#just think it’s silly because he’s the only one i’ve had actual contempt for

[motherfuckingbrad]

it’s like every season of mq i go from fucking hating ian so bad to liking him and thinking he’s a nice guy in the last episode and i just think that’s so white man of him

[iloveitwhen]

You want angst i have arrived!!!

Please can Adrian find a lost child turms out the child belongs Damien and mari extra salt if the child looks more like mari

So like Adrien doesn't find Marinette's lost child.... I totally forgot about that part of the ask....😭😭 Sorryyyyyy, i hope you still like it!

10 years ago

“I’m fine,” he snaps, “stop dotting on me, what are you, my mother?” He turns and storms away instantly regretting his words but not as strongly as he was annoyed by hers. 

“I don’t understand,” Marinette says so softly that Adrien slows to a stop. “Why are you acting like this?” Marinette walks around to face him, trying to catch his eye. “I mean I thought we were happy, I thought you were happy?”

Adrien can’t look her in the eye, he can’t tell her he only started dating her to get over Ladybug, which had been failing miserably for months. At first he was happy, well she mostly just made him feel not so alone and that was everything he could have asked for, until he realized that that wasn’t enough, it wasn’t love, only comfort. Isn’t love supposed to hit you like a ton of bricks? Isn’t it supposed to take your breath away? Make you feel an abundance of emotions like nothing else ever could? Ladybug took his breath away, made him feel things, and Marinette? She was just a placeholder, he was trying to shove her in the hole that Ladybug had left in his heart, but she didn’t fit. 

“Look at me.” Marinette doesn’t sound angry, just sad, defeated. 

“I don’t think this is going to work,” he blurts, finally looking into Marinette’s eyes just in time to see her breath catch, her hand to fly to her mouth in shock, and her eyes water. Just in time to see her break. 

“What?” she chokes out, “why?” 

He shook his head, he knew even before they started dating it wouldn’t work but he “tried” anyways for Marinette’s sake, even though the object of his affection was really Ladybug. And of course he knew it was bad to flirt with another woman while he was dating Marinette but it wasn’t like it was hurting anyone. Besides, if he actually was able to pull Ladybug then it wouldn’t really matter in the end, sure Marinette would be a little hurt and he’d feel bad about it but it never would have worked out between them anyways.

“I’m in love with somebody else.” Adrien may not be the best person in the world but he at least can be honest, he really does appreciate Marinette, but the longer he stayed with her the more she reminded him of Ladybug, only driving the stake deeper in his heart that he wasn’t with her, only Marinette. 

“Who?” she demands. 

Adrien laughs, even he could hear the arrogance in the sound. “Why? What are you going to do, attack her?” For a moment she looks shocked but it quickly morphs to anger. 

“I would like to know, Agreste, because I think I deserve it after all this time we’ve been together. I can’t believe that you’d really think that I’d-”

“It’s Ladybug,” he cuts off her inevitable rant but immediately regrets it. 

“What?” 

“I’m in love with Ladybug.” No turning back now.

“Adrien, you don’t know Ladybug, how the fu** are you in love with her?”

“We used to meet up,” well it’s not necessarily a lie, “she would always be there for me, she made me feel special, like I was her favorite civilian. We would have long talks about everything and nothing,” that’s how it used to be anyways. 

“You’re lying.” Marinette is no longer crying but her eyes are red and she looks. so. angry. 

Adrien shakes his head even though he is partly lying, “I’m not, but she told me how she was in love with Chat Noir,” oh how he wished that were true, “so I pushed myself away, but clearly it didn’t work. I’m still in love with-”

“Stop. Just stop.” This time Marinette cut him off. Looking up from the ground Adrien sees an expression he’s never seen on her face. Disappointment, contempt, just like the way his father looks at him. “I can’t believe this,” she laughs, empty of any humour, and shakes her head. Heading back over to the table she left her things at, she continues to laugh while repeating, “I can’t believe this.” Swinging her purse around her shoulder she grabs her keys and turns back to him. “This whole time. I can’t believe I've never seen it before now. I was so blind. So blind.” 

“So you believe me?” Adrien knows it’s not really important but she was acting weird, crazy even. 

“Do I believe that you’re in love with Ladybug. No. No, I don’t think you’re in love with her, I think you’re obsessed with her. I think you need therapy. I think you need to take a look at yourself and realize that love goes both ways, Adrien. Ladybug doesn’t love you back, never has, and never will.” Anger swelled in his chest but she yanks the door open and looks back one last time, “I can’t believe I gave my heart to a psychopath. You know, I really hope you get over her, Adrien. Because she will never. Ever. have you and you will never be happy with anyone else.” She scoffs and rolls still red eyes, “turns out I was blinded by you like you were blinded by her,” she says before stepping out and slamming the door shut. 

Marinette never looked at him the same way again, gone was the soft adoration in her eyes and replaced with disgust and anger and disappointment, much like the way Ladybug did, if only she could get over her unnecessary negative feelings over him and love him as he loved her. 

--- 

It was amazing how lonely one person could be, Adrien had only returned to Paris for the 10th anniversary of Hawkmoth’s defeat and it was a bigger celebration than usual and festivities were already beginning; but Adrien only felt a gaping hole in his chest from the memories of broken relationships with friends, his only sense of family, and regret. He took in the decorations hanging above doors and the happy squeals of the children in the park. He sat on the end of a nearly empty bench, flashing the pregnant woman on the other end a quick, polite smile not bothering to really look at her, only to reassure that he only meant to sit and not have a conversation with a stranger. 

As he settled and saw all the happy families bustling about the familiar thought of being alone re-emerged, Adrien had simply accepted that he was built and born to be lonely and had accepted that a long long time ago. He accepted it the night Ladybug and Chat Noir defeated Hawkmoth and out of necessity he had revealed himself to the world to avoid suspicion of any involvement of his father’s crimes. Now he was invited every year to give a speech but every year he declined, holding out that Marinette would join him, would reveal to the world that she was Ladybug, but she had dropped any and all communication with him so he always said no. It was silly thinking back to that night, at first he was confused why Ladybug wasn’t surprised in the slightest when he revealed himself and, according to her, only by the goodness of her word revealed herself to him. Although he suspected it was more to watch him suffer than anything else. 

“Oof!” Adrien’s thoughts scatter when a little girl trips and falls right in front of him. 

“ARGHH I coming for youuuuu!” A man’s voice growls out in a playful manner and Adrien turns his head to look at the source of the sound, it’s a rather handsome man with green eyes that were striking against his dark skin. 

The little girl giggles profusely and scrambles up, quickly hiding behind the arm of the bench and using Adrien as a shield from what he assumed was her father. 

Adrien chuckled and glanced over at the girl, about to make a comment to her when his words died in his throat. The girl had a familiar splitting smile with twin pigtails and blue blue blue eyes. Save for the tan skin she was the spitting image of one Marinette Dupain-Cheng, of Ladybug. 

Adrien is staring at her and she notices and her brow furrows. 

“You’re not my mommy,” she says as if he had somehow replaced her or she was considering her mother really was him and had disguised herself somehow. 

A giggle sounds from the other side of the bench. Adrien whips his head to the woman to find her laughing into her hand. She looked different than he remembered but it was unmistakably Marinette, she had a bun atop her head with bangs that framed her face and a sundress with a very pregnant belly. 

“Marinette?”

A happy squeal right in his ear sounded, he flinched and looked over to see the man had snuck around the bench and scooped the girl up in his arms. “No! Papa put me down! Put me down!” she laughed, trying in vain to get out of his grasp while he placed obnoxiously loud kisses all over her face. The man turned to Adrien with a laugh and an easy smile on his lips. 

“Sorry about that-” recognition flitted across the man’s features as he cut himself off, his face falling to a sneer, as if Adrien was scum of the earth, as if the man could not think of a better pass time than to kill Adrien. It was a terrifying change of demeanor, Adrien desperately felt the need to get out of this man’s sight before he got murdered. 

“Damian,” Marinette’s melodic voice sliced through the tension but the man only walked towards her, not dropping his gaze from Adrien. 

Adrien tried to look anywhere else but unfortunately found that the mini-Marinette had developed the same look and was glaring at Adrien. 

Marinette had stood and placed a hand on the arm of the man to placate him before turning to Adrien with a small smile. 

“Hello, Adrien.” He had imagined this moment so many times. So many times. And this was never in any of his imaginations. Marinette with a family that wasn’t his. “It’s good to see you.”

“Really?” he blurted, he needed to know if it was true, had she really thought of him as much as he thought of her?

“Of course.” 

Of course. Of course. Of course. 

“This is husband, Damian-”

“Damian Wayne,” Damian shifted his daughter to his left hip and thrust his hand out. Adrien reached his hand out and the other man practically crushed his bones with an unnecessarily strong grip. 

“-and our daughter, Bridgette.” Adrien glanced at the girl to give her a polite smile but she was still glaring at him the same way her father was. It was quite unnerving. 

“She’s the spitting image of you,” he tries awkwardly. 

“And she’s got her father’s glare it seems,” she chuckles and Adrien tries to laugh along but it sounds much too forced. “I really do hope you’ve been doing well, Adrien. I know we didn’t leave on the best of terms but I hope you’ve been blessed with happiness as I have.” She contemplates him for a short moment. “We both deserve it after-” she waves her hand through the air gesturing towards the festivities, “-everything.” He knew she was referring to their time as Chat Noir and Ladybug but he only thought of how much he couldn’t have happiness after all the things that happened in his life outside the suit. “We have to get going but it was nice to see you.” She sends him one last smile and turns away, easily slipping into her husband’s side, who was Damian freaking Wayne, CEO of a multi-billion dollar company, and walks away. Again.

Adrien could never compare, and he knew it. 

He lamely calls out, “It was good to see you too,” before collapsing back onto the bench and takimg a deep shuddering breath. 

Ok i know he didn't find a lost child but I don't want to rewrite it😭😭 I hope it still checks the rest of the boxes!

[ihatetaxes99]

A Little Rant

Okay, so I've been mulling over this for a long time and I have decided, fuck it, I want to talk about something that has been on my mind for a long time. Specifically, how much I just really, really dislike Katsuki Bakugo as a character and to do so, I'm going to compare him him to my favourite character... Well, technically, second favourite, since my overall favourite doesn't quite fit the discussion (Sorry, Sako-kun, I swear I'll give you the acknowledgement you deserve another time.)

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

So, uh, before I start, probably a good idea to mention that I am going to be very harsh to Mr. Bakugo here, so if you like him, I'd advise not reading for your own sake. I know that a lot of Baku stans tend to prowl the anti tags, and this isn't for you. However, if you think you can handle it, be my guest; Just don't get pissy at me if you don't like it.

Let's get started. Where to begin, where to begin? Well, we all know the characters of Katsuki Bakugo and Tomura Shigaraki, two of the most integral characters in the series and, as far as I am concerned, two rather noteworthy pieces of shit. For the latter, this is no surprise to anyone, Shigaraki is the main bloody antagonist. He's terrorised the world of heroes for around a year by the most recent point in the manga, has murdered dozens during the MLA confrontation alone and ultimately aims to wipe everyone out. At his purest form, he is an agent of chaos and nothing less. A young man who was driven out of society and forced to indulge in his own rage. He's very clearly a character beyond redemption, and even attempting to do so would just be silly. And yet, I love him. Easily my second favourite character, at some points, he has weasled his way into first place.

Then, we have Bakugo. Beloved by all, both in universe and in the fandom, Katsuki is an explosive, ill-tempered brat with a dispositon as childish as Shigaraki's was earlier on in the series. I really do not like his character, but at the end of the day, he hasn't killed anyone and hasn't committed any crime, so why should I?

Well, that second part is technically a lie. Yeah, we all like to forget the suicide baiting scene, even Horikoshi. But simply put, it cannot be forgotten and that is my big issue with Bakugo. Everything he has done both past and present is swept under the rug. He has acted absolutely abhorrently towards a Quirkless little boy who just wanted to be his friend for years, constantly belittled and in some cases assaulted this boy. During the initial training, he nearly blows Deku to kingdom come. And why? Because he doesn't like feeling inferior. Well tough shit, the little bastard has gotten his way all his life, and coming to UA was the perfect opportunity for him to put on his big boy pants, grow a pair and actually mature as an individual. Surely, an institution such as UA would not ignore or even reward his behaviour?

....

Yeah, UA deserves all that is surely coming to it following the end of the war, purely because of how they let Katsuki slide. Keep in mind, Nedzu and Aizawa fully acknowledged that his tempermental behaviour made Bakugo a target for the League of Villains. And yet, upon recapturing him, no attempts are made to actually nurture him into dropping this egocentric shit that makes him such a target. 

And of course, it's Katsuki who gets to learn about One for All first. Not Ida, the streadfast, loyal friend, not Uraraka, who has often been Izuku's closest confident. Hell, even Mineta, for all his faults, is more friendly to Izuku than Bakugo has ever been. And yet, it's good old Katsuki who gets to learn about it, the same Katsuki who didn't believe it at first, mocked the dead users of One for All and was generally a horrible, spiteful little shit. He even somehow has a friend in Kirishima, which frankly astonishes me. I am aware that 1-A don't know about Bakugo's past, but who would ever be attracted to his completely unstable personality?  

And of course, he's ended up calling himself DynaMight as his hero name. First off, my darling Mister Compress is right, that's so fecking tacky, even by BNHA standards. But secondly, what the actual fuck? Okay, so the actual disciple of All Might gets stuck with a hero name that everyone knows is meant to humiliate and tear him down while the cocky little bugger who has shown nothing but open contempt to the very nature of One for All gets to ape on All Might's name? Remember a very early chapter, that had a flashback to Midoriya's potential hero names and they were all intentionally childish and cringe? Yeah, this is quite literally that but unironic. God, I hate Bakugo.

And that's really it, what separates two deeply unlikable characters. Shigaraki is acknowledged by the writing as an awful person with a scant few redeeming qualities. His backstory never tries to excuse his actions, only explain them. And so, this ragtag violent scumbag ends up as a better character than the violent scumbag that we're supposed to root for. Because I cannot root for Bakugo no matter what. He deserves the full Endeavour treatment, frankly. Because at least Enji is finally receiving what he deserves for his actions (Even if the absolutely God-awful chapter 301 has muddied that a little by portraying him in a positive light for some reason.) Bakugo needs consequences, he needs intervention and he needs to actually fucking apologise with some sincerity before I'll ever accept him as an even halfway decent character.

Blegh. Sorry for this long, boring and ultimately pointless rant. I know that literally no one cares what I have to say on this internationally beloved character, but I needed to share my two cents. 

[ourloveisforthelovely]

HP A Working Progress (one shot)

Harry Potter Marauders Era 

Request Fic from @vacantpage0910

a regulus one shot where he’s paired with this other slytherin girl in class and she’s very friendly and inviting, but he keeps his cold demeanor the whole time. (Inside he’s melting as times goes on though) regardless of his hard exterior and his seemingly annoyed stature, once they’re done being partners he seeks her company out (totally by “accident” and not precise planning or memorizing her time table 😉) and the rest is up to you. I would like a fluff ending though. Maybe she could be a Potter too?

Pairings: Regulus Black x Reader 

Rating: T 

_______

“This day!”

You snapped before throwing your bookbag on the table in front of you and plopping down across from your best friend. Winter looked up curiously from the books that she was hovering over.

“Rough day?”

Winter questioned as you looked up. You made a muffled “umhm” sound before looking up. Winter smiled, hoping to ease whatever tensions that you had.

“What’s wrong?”

You glanced over your shoulder in the direction that Regulus Black had stalked off in before turning back to your friends.

“McGonagall paired me up with Regulus Black for a project.”

Winter frowned.

“I thought that you fancied him.”

You laughed. There was no “thought” to it. You were simping for Regulus Black hard. That didn’t mean that he liked you, however.

“I do but he thinks that I am the most annoying creature known to wizardkind. Like he genuinely hates me.”

Winter gave you an amused smile. She had known about your cute little crush on Regulus Black since 2nd year.  

“He doesn’t hate you. Regulus just doesn’t know how to show any emotion other than loathing. If you had a mother like him, you would be a miserable git too. Lucky your mother is so charming.”

You had to agree with that one Euphemia Potter had to be the most wonderful mother ever! Granted, she was older than most of your friend’s mothers but that didn’t matter. You contributed that her age helped with her “mothering” style.  

Walburga Black was no source of secrecy for you. After Sirius moved in over the summer, you learned all about that “charming” woman. Regulus’ sullen and moody disposition suddenly made sense.

“He sure has a funny way of showing that he doesn’t hate me.”

You grumbled, taking a sip of the water that Winter pushed across the table. Winter smiled.

“Tell me what he said to you before you explode.”

You groaned.

“Well, there I was just minding my own business being my super friendly self when McGonagall paired me with him. He didn’t say one word when he sat down. He acted like I had some kind of cooties or something. His only words to me were you better not let me fail, I don’t like your chattering, and why do you talk so much? Tell me how that is nice? If that is nice then I must be like some kind of deity for not smiting him. Look, I get that I am a chatterbox but that’s my appeal...go ask my brother. When I stop talking that’s when he knows that there is a problem.”

Winter had to agree with James Potter on that one (what a rare occurrence). You were the girl that could sit and be nice to anyone about anything. When Winter first met you, she couldn’t help but wonder how in the hell you had been sorted into Slytherin. You seemed more like a Hufflepuff yet here you were dressed in green and silver. It didn’t take Winter long to be over the moon for you. When she had a nasty letter from home or something else was bothering her in the slightest, you were the person to go to.

“You are not a chatterbox.”

“Come on, Winter. This is me that we are talking about.”

Winter rolled her eyes.

“Shut up, smart mouth. I was simply saying that you are an enjoyable person to talk to. You have a very nice refreshing outlook compared to the rest of us in this house. Yes, you're sassy but that adds to your appeal. What did you say to him?”

You scowled over at Regulus who was talking to Evan Rosier about something. Neither boy looked in your direction for a moment. It was Evan that turned to you first. You quickly turned back to Winter. The last thing that you wanted was for Evan to think that you were looking at him. That boy’s head was big enough as it was. He didn't need any help from you.

“I just muttered rude under my breath. Now I am stuck with him for the next two weeks.”

Winter smiled.

“Just go snog him and get it over with. I see how he looks at you.”

You started dying laughing at that. Winter sat looking at you with a look of contempt as you continued to laugh so hard tears streamed down your cheeks.

“Are you done?”

You shook your head as Regulus walked over. Winter smirked as you continued to laugh hysterically.

“What did you do to her, Winter?”

Regulus questioned as your laughter suddenly stopped. Your face reminded Regulus of a little strawberry as you turned to look at him before turning back to your friend. He was feeling a bit guilty about being such a dick in transfiguration. It wasn’t like you were being rude or obnoxious. Regulus simply didn’t know how to deal with people asking him questions or his opinion on something. He was the one that most people ignored and forgot was there.

“If that is what you think, Winter then that makes me an astronaut.”

“I’m not joking. Hi, Regulus. Do you need something?”

Winter continued, for the moment ignoring Regulus who was clearly trying to put everything together.

“Yeah, Y/n, we need to start working on that project.”

You scooted over to give him enough room to sit down. Winter stood to pick her books up.

“I have to get to potions. See you later, Y/n.”

You nodded before turning to face Regulus. His dark eyes were focused on the table in front of him. This was going to be an awkward project if you were going to be the one doing all of the talking.

“What days do you want to work on this?”

You questioned as Regulus looked up finally. Why was being nice so freaking difficult? Regulus wasn’t for sure why he had to be so snotty toward you. Maybe it had to do with James being your brother? It wasn’t your fault that James Potter was your brother. Just like it wasn’t his fault that Sirius was his older brother.

“Most of my afternoons are free. I have quidditch in the evenings during the week. Would you meet me in the library?”

You nodded in agreement. The inner girl in you was thrilled with the prospect of spending your afternoons with the boy that you had a crush on. If you could get him to talk things would be even better.

“That sounds fine to me.”

Regulus took a breath before turning back to face you. You reminded him of James (just a James that he didn’t want to smack.)

“About earlier...I’m sorry….I was kind of a jerk. Apparently, I’m not much of a morning person.”

Regulus was relieved when you smiled.  

She’s smiling because of me. Merlin, I made a girl smile...I can do it!”

Regulus couldn’t help the thoughts going through his mind. Other than Ambrosia Parkinson, who only liked him for his family name, no other girl looked at him like that.

“You’re in luck to have me for a partner. I can make dandy coffee.”

Regulus smirked.

“Will it take the paint off of the walls?”

You liked “this” side of Regulus. This boy seemed happy.  

“If that is what you want.”

Over the following week and a half, the two of you spent every free moment together. Regulus wasn’t for sure when it happened but he realized that he was falling for you hopelessly.

I need to stop...I have to stop. It wouldn’t work. My parents would never agree to this...but I don’t care. Today is the last day of the project. I have to talk to her today. If I don’t do it then I will spend the rest of my life regretting being a chicken. What if she doesn’t like me? She’s sweet to everyone...what if she is just being nice to get through this project?

Regulus thought as you put the finish touches on the project. He watched as your nose scrunched up as you looked everything over once more.

“Regulus?”

You saying his name didn’t get Regulus’ attention right away. Turning away from the paper, you turned to look at the boy beside you. Regulus’ eyes were locked on the table in front of him. Over the past few weeks, you had gotten used to Regulus’ hard exterior but had found ways to break through it leaving you with the boy that you liked the most. It didn’t happen often but when you did it felt like a small victory.

Reaching out, you snapped your fingers in front of his face. Regulus blinked a few times before quickly grabbing your hand. Whether it be the shock of him moving so fast or the fact that he was holding your hand, you sat staring at him as Regulus smirked.

Neither of you was ready to admit that there was clear chemistry going on. If Regulus kissed you in this particular moment, you wouldn’t have fought back.

Come on, kiss me….be nice...do something...please

You screamed in your head as Regulus continued to hold your hand in his.

“You think that you are clever, don't you?”  

You grinned.

“I would like to think so. Considering that we are in 5th year and I never have had to hex anyone...I think that I am doing downright nifty.”

Regulus didn’t want to but he slowly let your hand go.

“I’ve actually had a nice time working with you on this.”

He commented. That was the first compliment that he had let slip the whole time. You couldn’t help but be flattered.

Regulus, meanwhile, watched as the strawberry hue returned to your cheeks. He was going to miss seeing you blush over something that he said or when you knew that his eyes were on you.

I’m going to miss this.

As the next week began and life returned to normal, Regulus found himself missing spending every afternoon with you in the library. He had returned to his normal “life” of tagging after Evan and not trying to murder Barty Crouch Jr but it wasn’t the same. It didn’t matter how many stupid “dad” jokes that Evan came up with, none of them were funny as the silly childish ones that you could come up with a moments notice.

“Why don’t you go talk to her already?”

Regulus looked up from the breakfast that he was pretending to eat. He had been pushing food items around for the past half an hour and finally caught Evan’s attention.

“Who?”

Regulus questioned as Evan rolled his eyes.

“Potter. You’ve been acting like a heartbroken 19040’s housewife since that project ended.”

Regulus rolled his eyes.

“A 1940’s housewife?”

He questioned. Evan nodded. Over the past week, he had caught Regulus looking in your direction with a sad look on his face. It didn’t take Evan long to figure out just what was bothering his best friend.

“Yeah that or a stalker. You have been watching every move that girl makes and if it makes you feel better she is doing the same thing to you in return. She has had you wrapped around her finger from the day McGonagall set that essay. You may want to write her a thankyou note.”

Regulus’ frown deepened. Had he really missed you liking him in return? Was he that clueless that he missed everything?

“She probably thinks that I’m a jerk. I wasn’t all that friendly.”

Evan closed his book then focused his attention back to Regulus.

“What does she do at 12:30 every day?

“Goes to the lake.”

Regulus commented before his mouth dropped. How did he know this? Had he been watching you this closely?

“And you aren’t watching her.”

Evan muttered as Regulus stood up.

(meanwhile)

You sat by the lake focusing on a novel that Winter had given you to read. Typically, you weren’t one for romance novels but this one was too crappy. It seemed the closest that you were ever going to get to a romance was by reading these shitty books.

Someone sitting down across from you pulled you away from the story. Looking up, your mouth nearly dropped seeing Regulus sitting across from you.

“Hi, Regulus.”

You said with a smile. This had been the first time that the two of you had spoken since the essay ended.

“Hi, Y/n.”

You quickly reached down in your bookbag and pulled out the essay.

“Guess who got the highest scores in our class?”

Regulus smirked. He didn’t doubt that the two of you would have the best scores. It always seemed like it was the two of you trying to outdo each other when it came to grades.

“I’m guessing us.”

Regulus commented. You nodded as he looked at the book on your lap.

“Why do you read those things? My mother reads them.”

You blushed.

“Well, it's the closest to a relationship that I think that I will ever get. I know that real relationships are nothing like these books but...it's nice.”

Regulus was going on pure adrenaline at that particular moment. Where this sudden surge of bravery came from was yet to be determined.

“Stand up.”

You slowly did as you were told. Regulus stood up and took his place in front of you.

“Those books can be right...you just have to find the right person. Let me guess this is some story about a princess looking for a prince charming that doesn’t know what the hell that he’s doing?”

“Something like that.”

You muttered. Something was different in Regulus’ eyes as he looked into yours. The moment that his mouth was on yours, you didn’t know how to react. When he pulled away you stood looking at him with wide eyes.

“Whoa. Can you do that again?”

Regulus shook his head.

“In a minute, I need to tell you something first. First, I’m sorry if I was a jerk to you at all over the past few weeks. You’re a really nice girl and I have really grown to like you. I just don’t know how to do all of this love stuff…”

Wrapping your arms around his shoulders, you smiled.

“Kissing me again would be a great place to start.”

________

@amelie-black @truly-insatiable @realgaytrash @spiderxalmighty @acciosiriusblack @quuenofblacks @fandomsxxregulus @jessyballet @knreidy1 @whymyparentscheckmyphone @hazncalsgal @bennyberry @criminalyetminimal @lucasfilms77 @exhsle @brokencasbutt67-writer @authoressskr @fandom-trash-worth-it @hankypranky @summer-novak @shaylybaby2032 @emiwrites3reads @li0nh34rt @tas898 @marichromatic @maggioli-m @stuckinsaudi1 @shadows-and-padlocked-hearts @knight-of-gleefulness @untoldshortsofthefandoms @sprnaturallover @deanwherescas @shitfaceddaniel @wontlookaway @mycuddlycorner @rubyroscoe1

[ssson-of-sparda]

Two Dresses (Dante x Fem!Reader)

Summary: Patty desperately wants to know what happened between Dante and Y/N. Hopefully, Morrison is here to help. (Part 3 of A Tab To Erase) (Part 1) (Part 2)

Tags: Pre DMC3 Dante / Dante is Tony Redgrave / Love / Fluff / Slight ANgst / Implied Sexual Content / Explicit Language

Author’s note: Part 3 is out. Sorry for keeping you waiting. The story is coming to its end. Only one or two chapters left.

MISSION 3

Indifference is the worst form of contempt. But how can you be indifferent when a squeaking tiny voice as unbearable as fingernails on a chalkboard constantly splits your ears with endless whining? Dante wished to know.        “Pleeeeaase Dante. You promised.” Patty begged again as she almost sprawled on the man’s desk, strangely not caring about the grease or the tomato sauce that were disgustingly splattered on the wooden surface.      “I didn’t do such thing.” Dante nonchalantly took a bite of his pizza, trying to ignore Patty’s pleading blue eyes and her feeble attempt at convincing him to tell her the rest of his ‘love story’ (she had decreed it was one) with Y/N. “Come on, Dante! You have to tell me!” The frustration in every single word coming out of her mouth was growing stronger. You could hear it in the way her voice was becoming more and more piercing by the minute. And in spite of all the time spent with Patty, Dante had never succeeded in really ignoring her childish whims. “Don’t you watch TV shows?” She added. “You know full well I don’t.” And it was the truth. Except for adults programs once in a while, Dante cared less about television, contrary to Patty who was a professional binge-watcher capable of watching a dozen of episodes a day and still yearning for more.        “Well, even if you don’t, haven’t you ever experienced the frustration of a cliffhanger? Like, in Bolero in Spring, when Jenna has a car accident right after she decides to run after Josh to finally tell him he is the love of her life and that she loves him too and you know you’ll have to wait a whole week to know what happens next?”                Dante’s brain shut down after the first question, or maybe even before that, finding a not-so-surprising fascination for the slices of salami on his pizza and their perfectly round shapes. “Like I told you, I don’t watch TV.”      “Haven’t you ever longed for anything?”            “Yes actually. Right now, I long for peace … and quiet … and for you to finally shut up.” The girl glared at him, shooting daggers at him as sharp as a thousand Rebellions.

“What’s going on here?” Relief immediately shone in both Patty’s and Dante’s eyes when Morrison pushed the door of Devil May Cry, replacing the tension in the room with paternal warmth that was so like him.                 “Morrison! You got to help me. Dante doesn’t want to tell me what happened between him and Y/N” She complained with her small fists clenched tightly, a childish attitude that would have made Morrison smile if it hadn’t been for his surprise.“ You told Patty about Y/N? How weird of you.” “Not for free.”  “You know her, Morrison?” There was a gleam in Patty’s eyes, one only curiosity and excitement could create.       “By reputation. Everybody in the mercenary business knew who she was and was aware not to touch a hair on her head. I bet even demons knew. Y/N. Tony Redgrave’s beautiful girlfriend. And probably the only girl that could make Dante act somewhat … mature.” He said as he chose his words wisely, though he wasn’t sure they were fit for the memories of Dante he had in mind.                  “ What are you talking about? I’ve always been mature.”        “ Yeah. Because eating strawberry sundaes and pizza everyday is very adult.” Dante frowned, pretty sure he had once heard a similar reprimand coming from someone else’s mean mouth. His mother? No … but close. “Have you been spending time with Trish lately?”           “ Stop changing the subject and tell me the story!” Dante eyed at Morrison with an insisting look that meant ‘Get me the hell out of here.’ but today, he would not receive any help from his friend. “You know she won’t let go, Dante. So, should I tell her or should you?”              Dante sighed. “Two dresses off my tab and it’s yours.”

TWO DRESSES

Two star-crossed lovers in fair Redgrave City, where we lay our scene …

Are you kidding me?! What? I thought you loved that kind of lovey-dovey crap. Dante! Fine …

The rest of the story was no Shakespearian play. There was no betrayal, no sword fighting, no friend or parent tragically murdered, no forbidden love, no unfair ending, no … Who was Dante kidding? There was all that and worse. Another reason why he hated Shakespeare so much.                But when love started to bloom and with it the chances at a normal peaceful life, Dante never considered those dramatic events. Not even a slight second. After all, he was an overly enthusiastic nineteen year-old with the girl of his dreams on his arm and a long-awaited roof above his head. What could go wrong? Especially when all he thought about, all he imagined were simple mornings waking up with the one he loved so dearly and nights with his silver head in between…

“In between what?” “ Y/N’s fingers... Y/N’s fingers of course.” “ You’re not so good at making this story family-friendly you know that, Dante?” “I’m doing my best here, Morrison.”

And his epicurean – though quite lewd - plans were all shared to the utter despair of Y/N’s parents who constantly reminded Y/N of the big mistake she was making in getting involved with a boy like ‘that vermin Tony’.                 “What about college? What about that confortable life we wanted for you? How can you throw all this away for that boy?” Dante remembered the time Y/N’s mother had said that with a menacing finger and a poisonous tongue. That and the infamous “Is breeding with that trash and raising his filthy bastards truly what you want Y/N?”    So long the time that family had generously taken him under their roof for a few days. Guess money does make you stuck-up assholes after all. That’s what he had wanted to reply. But instead, he had just stood still, arms crossed over his chest and had remained silent, out of respect for Y/N and also because, deep down, he was sometimes thinking the same.

He wanted the best for Y/N. He wanted to give her the best life had to offer, all the things she wanted, all the things she needed but he only had a few dollars in his pocket and a list of debts he didn’t really know how the erase. And even though she seemed like she didn’t mind now, what would happen in a few years, or even just a few months. What would happen when the little he had to offer would not be enough anymore?

“Will you love me all the same in a few years?” She asked him, soft hands placed over his strong naked chest and (colour) eyes staring deep in his looking for the truth. “I’m sure I will love you even more if that’s anything possible.”               “Then stop worrying and stop with the silly questions already.” And she kissed him with all the comfort and the love she could gather. She kissed him like there was no tomorrow, like there was just them, only them, together, on that mattress on the floor in this furniture-less and decaying shop he had just been allowed to rent for an astronomical amount of money. “A neon sign.” “ What?” Dante asked a bit confused.                  “You should get a neon sign, like the one my parents had at the restaurant.” She added with a soft smile. “You want me to get a pink neon sign?” He joked and took delight when she laughed. She was so insanely beautiful when she was laughing. “It wasn’t pink. It was red.”                “ My coat is red. That sign was definitely pink. And pink doesn’t scream ‘menacing devil-hunter in the house’?” “Menacing devil-hunter?” She repeated, arching an eyebrow suspiciously. “Where?” Dante looked at her smirking mockingly at him. “Watch it you!” He pushed her on the mattress and went to lie his burning yet still sweaty body over hers to place a multitude of hungry lovely kisses on her neck, wishing this moment would never end.

But it ended, as all good things end eventually. Thanks to Enzo Ferino, once again. That piece of shit had the knack to ruin things after all.                “Tony! Per l’amore di Dio! Tony!” He shouted from downstairs, visibly alarmed if not terrified. “Speaking of the Italian midget.” Dante sighed, his lips still on Y/N’s skin, thinking that maybe ignoring Enzo would make him leave. “Tony!!!”           “Damn it.”          “Pretty sure the menacing devil-hunter hiding in this shop will scare him away?” Y/N taunted again and Dante grinned before pressing his lips on Y/N’s one last time. “Oh, he sure will. Wait here. I’ll be right back.” Dante said as he reluctantly left his girl’s loving embrace to put on a pair of pants and go welcome his unwanted guest fidgeting in the hall.                    “ You’d better.”

“It better be important, Enzo.” Dante demanded as he lazily walked down the creaking stairs to show him how annoyed he was to see him here. “You’ve just ruined a perfect moment with my girl.”               “Y/N? Y/N is with you?” The man’s eyes were widened with fear and distress and even though Dante knew how much of a coward Enzo was, he had never seen him that way. “How many girls do you think I have?”  The short man leant against the wall and took a deep sigh. “Well, that’s relief I guess.” Dante frowned, unsure if he should remain annoyed or start asking questions. Hell, why not both. “Will you tell me what’s going on?”     “A man came to Bobby’s Cellar. Looking for you.”          “Not a first.” Dante walked pass Enzo to grab a bottle of whisky he had left early on on one of the many boxes he had not yet unpacked. “One of Denvers’ goons presumably.” He leant against the wall and took a mouthful of amber alcohol, thinking about the girl waiting for him upstairs and how he should have never left her.        “No. Not Denvers. That man was working alone and he asked about a certain Dante.” The half-demon froze for a second and his blue eyes darted a brief astonished glance at his partner. A man looking for Dante - Dante, not Tony - was no good news. “I said I didn’t know any Dante but then he described you and I thought che cacchio è. Then he threatened me and … He was scary, Tony”     “What did you tell him?”  Dante frowned. He had the feeling Enzo had fucked up. He could feel it in his guts. Otherwise he would have never rushed to his new place in the middle of the night to warn him. “That you weren’t here. That you certainly were with Y/N. And then he had me, Tony. I …” “ You mentioned Y/N?” Enzo took an immediate step back when he heard the anger in Dante’s voice. “ I … I’m sorry. He … He tricked me.” Then he took another step and another one, trying to stay as far away as possible from Dante, until his back bumped against the door and he was able to spot a terrifying red flame burning with rage in the mercenary’s eyes who was towering him menacingly. “What did you say about Y/N?”                           If the weird man in Bobby’s Cellar had scared the shit out Enzo early on, what he had felt back then was nothing in comparison to he was feeling right now. Paralysed with fear, he couldn’t move anymore, couldn’t speak. He could only stare at the raging fire in Dante’s eyes and feel a burning warmth emanating from the young man’s body against him. Were those the flames of Hell? Was he about to be punished for his sin? For betraying his partner?    “What did you say?” He shouted and Enzo trembled and squealed like a pig, arms covering his face to protect himself. Yes, his man Tony was about to flay him alive. He was sure of it. “What are you?” He mumbled.

“Tony.” Enzo thanked all the gods for that divine intervention. Though whom he should have truly thanked was Y/N and her soft reassuring voice that had miraculously pulled Dante from his dark rage.

I like her. Dante smiled.

“Stop please.” Enzo felt Dante calm down and when he finally walked away from him, the small man took a deep breath. “If something happens …” Dante didn’t finish the sentence. He didn’t need to and Enzo was already nodding furiously. “I know.” He blindly grabbed the handle behind his back and quickly opened the door to run away as fast as he could.

Dante watched him running in the cold night with a frown until he couldn’t see him anymore. Then he swiftly strode back to Y/N waiting for him on top of the stairs to pull her in a strong protective  embrace. And when his lips pressed in her silky hair and she realized he couldn’t let go, she started worrying. “What is it?” She had never felt him like that.                  “It’s nothing.” He replied softly even though the voice in his head was screaming things like Don’t you get out of my sight, even for a second. I can’t lose you. Not like my mother. I love you so freaking much. “Stay with me tonight.”

But deep down, Dante wasn’t sure this was the smartest decision.

***

“And so was it?” Patty curiously asked as she stared at Dante with her big blue eyes. “ Was it what?” He replied, pretending not to understand. He loved teasing her. “ The smartest decision?” She clarified with an enthusiasm that clearly showed her interest and her will to know more. “ I thought you loved cliffhangers.”

[peakascum]

The Room Where It Happens

Request for: @slither-in-a-half I know this is a bit different than what you asked for and it’s way different than what I originally intended to write, but I really do hope you enjoy it!

Two politicians stand on opposites sides of each other for a Charity event, something to do with children or painting the Parliment’s ceiling. Thomas Shelby sips a chilled Merlot as he eyes the posh MP’s that mingle alongside him, noses turned up and head in their ass. In front of him lurks another MP, a much snobbier one at that, whom galavants his wife like a bloody medal. You don’t mind, at least not publicly. Always playing the trophy wife, always sporting a smile, always curtsying a ‘What a lovely evening’. Thomas knows he’s playing a dangerous game as he eyes your cherry red lips gulp down yet another glass. It’s the urgency in which you consume the devil’s drink that always catches his attention. He knows how soft your hands are and how delicately you maneuver them from the countless times you've touched his.

The condition of being stuck in a loveless marriage would drive anyone mad. Add a little bit of brute force and a make-believe smile, and that would be enough to send cries for help. Which you had done so on several occasions, but no one took them seriously; instead, they deemed you as a bored housewife. You had heard the tales, everyone had, of the countless wives of esteemed families that suddenly had public outbursts which were deemed as hysterical. You were familiar with the stories, about Mrs. Dormer’s dull complexion and Mrs. Hastings’ scarred wrists, all whispers of misfortune were now your reality. 

Tommy and your husband had never seen eye to eye on any particular topic. Both were stubborn men who belonged to different political parties and lived completely different realities. Your husband was born with a silver spoon in hand while Tommy built his kingdom out of wooden sticks and cut stones. But those eyes, those adoring blue eyes wrapped you in from the first time they met. It started with stolen glances and escalated to a passionate night shared in his office as you delivered some papers on behalf of your husband. He decided you had the loveliest broken smile he had ever seen. The most delicate laugh and the wittiest humor, one he would not mind hearing time and time again. 

‘Did you listen to a word I said Mr. Shelby?’

‘I- I don’t believe I did, no.’ He remarked, clearing his throat.

She smirked. ‘I-I-I’ She mocked. ‘Stuttering is for children and tight-lipped fools. Are you a fool Mr. Shelby?’

You exhaled words of pleasure in each others ears. Bodies molding together like clay and fingertips eager to explore. Exhaustion came after and a simple kiss was placed upon his lover’s lips as if it were already a routine. Both clinging to the affection you so desperately craved.

Months of passion were spent in secrecy up until the moment your husband caught on, almost crushing your wind pipe and blinding you out of rage. Not because he loved you, oh no, but because he craved power and dominance. A poor little rich boy does not share. So when the venue and seating were arranged for the gala he made sure to have Thomas Shelby in front of him, to taunt you, to dangle his prized possession in his  opponent's face. To give you a glimpse into the life you wanted, yet gripping your thigh beneath the table as if saying ‘Don’t you dare’. 

The torrid affair you shared with the Shelby man had ended a few weeks prior with a handwritten letter, but your absence from such events told him what he couldn't decipher from your words. 

‘Dear sir, 

It is with a heavy heart that I write this letter. I hope you understand my reason for ending this relationship. I love my husband, you see, and the idea of breaking this marriage is enough to make my heart weep. My whorish ways have brought misery to my house, but be not alarmed by this, for my husband is very generous and will gladly offer you a sum of money for your silence. You must excuse my behavior these past few months and, therefore, understand the severity of the situation. 

Best wishes, Y/N.’

The letter sat in his pocket weighing heavily against the floor. He rejected the money, of course, but it didn't save his heart from breaking any further, and his mind from wandering to the atrocious acts your husband performed out of hatred. Thomas was a dangerous man, but your husband was worse, and his wrath would treble his political career, crease his business, and ruin his family. Polly had warned him many times about the dangers of thinking with his cock, but it was more than that. Arthur had payed for other whores to keep him company, but he could bed no other. It was the way you said his name in wonder whenever you saw each other after weeks apart. You were a wondrous creature shrouded in a mysterious, yet inviting, aura. One who sported a smile, such a sweet smile on those cherry red lips that made his own twitch and heart clench. 

It was the way you grimaced as your husband squeezed your arm that made his feet have a life of their own. He marched confidently up to you both, eyeing him with brutality, but switching to you with softness. Your eyes widened pleadingly at him to stop, to stop at once, to turn around and save himself from trouble. 

“Ah Mr. Shelby, what a pleasant surprise.” Your husband said, sporting a tight smile and a poised stance. Tommy nodded, “Mr. Crooke, Mr.s- Crooke”. Your eyes bore daggers into his. Your husband shook his hand firmly in a weak attempt to exhume further dominance, when, in truth, all of them knew who really owned the room. 

“Excuse my wife’s appearance, say. She’s not been her best these past few weeks, isn't that right darling?” Your husband said as he ran the back of his index finger gently over your cheek. Your once shimmering eyes appeared lifeless under the yellowish glare of the chandelier- a shell of the woman you had been, the woman you should be. “Wonder why that is sir,” Tommy bit back. Your husband chuckled, “You’re a bold man Mr. Shelby.” The men stared down at each other down as men tend to do.

“So they say.” Tommy replied.

“You've caught my attention, Mr. Shelby,” your husband started, “and in a most ill-manner may I add.” Tommy quirked a brow and urged him to go on. “Mr. Shelby I do not think it is in anyone’s best interest for me to comment on my wife’s extra curricular, is it not?” Your posture remained stoic, eyes trained to the expensive champagne in your hand praying that somehow you could shrink ten sizes and bathe in it. Stretch your arms and do laps on the clear glasses that British aristocracy drank in sighs and content giggles. You had silly daydreams like these. Some not so silly. Ones drenched in crimson liquid as if you were a butcher at the end of your shift, only to look around and see your husband’s body displayed in all his fat glory. 

You sucked in a breath and uttered, “Gentlemen you must excuse me, I need to use the powder room.” Your husbands hand stopped gripped your forearm as you made your exit, “Don’t be long dear.” He uttered menacingly. 

You leaned up against the green wall that lead to a long corridor, away from prying eyes and the clink of heels against expensive tiles. Lungs heavy, hands trembling, and mouth parting like a fish out of water. You felt foolish. You had lived years below your husband’s scrutinizing thumb, surrounded by words of empty headed strangers on how lucky you were to have married such a bright and clever man. A man who rejoiced at the sight of her trembling figure and got off on her agonizing screams that left her feeling like a vegetable for days. A man who curiously spit false facts with such emotion that caught the ears of the rich and the weak. And then she met him. And then life ripped that away. 

As if on cue, Tommy hurried towards her with that ever prominent scowl on his face, “Y/N, love-“

“No! No Tommy we cannot speak!” She pushed his hands away, further encouraging the scowl to become two tattooed lines in between his eyes. “Listen to me Y/N, stop fighting and fuckin’ listen ey?” He grabbed her trembling hands in his careful not to hurt her further. “What? What could possibly be so important to tell me right now that would make tonight’s punishment worth it?” You growled in contempt. 

“In about three minutes I will go into a room with your husband to bargain your freedom.” He grabbed your plum face in his hands, urging for your eyes to meet, for a reassurance, a peace of mind, a promise.

“He won’t give me up Tommy, he won’t.” You noticed his eyes waiver in a way that only a heartbreak could cause. They were filled with urgency, a sense of dread, because how could you not trust him? How could you not see that everything he is and everything he does is for you? 

“The greatest grief in my life will come if I leave you in the hands of that monster. All of this,” he said gesturing around him, “all of this is collateral, Y/N. I’ve accepted that risk of dying, I do it every day for stupid shit Y/N, for really stupid shit.”

“Oh God! Oh God!” You moaned, crying in despair. You shook your head as tears coated your frosted cheeks, unable to comprehend the thought of freedom and actual love. 

The orchestra started playing in the dining hall soliciting the guest’s attention to a melodic grace. The violins struck their cords in an unruly manner, insisting on being heard. Your husband whistled as he came toward you both making you separate. “Mr. Shelby, I believe we have pressing matters to attend?” He said. In his shifty brown eyes lied an expression you could not read. And so both men entered the room with the big fireplace and oak chairs. The mahogany door closed with a thud that coincidentally resonated beautifully with the melodic sound of the band. 

The doors opened just as quickly as they had closed. Or had the hours flown by? You couldn't tell. In the torturous time you had been left outside, a small crowd had gathered around you. Whispers of ‘mistress’ and ‘foes’ and ‘ruins’ had been said, but most just repeated the few phrases that could be heard from inside the room. The two politicians stepped out having reached a mutual decision. One having lost a sum of money that would leave him in financial ruin for the rest of his life. The other with promised assets that would change his family’s fortune and the value of his name. 

Your eyes met the Shelby’s blue ones, a smirk adorning his features as he stared at you. His woman. “Now, what’s this I hear about you doubting me love?” He murmured. You shook your head in disbelief, a small smile itching to be seen as your eyes darted over to your husband. “I don’t- I don’t get it Tommy, what did you do?” You asked grasping the lapels of his evening suit. Your hands tugging and caressing them ceremoniously as anxious tears pooled in your eyes. 

“Don’t concern yourself with business Y/N-“

“No! No, I will most certainly concern myself with business. Business that involves me. Business that has a means to freedom and life- a life Tommy, a-a life without fear.” She insisted, but he only smiled and kissed her lips gently, ignoring the ever growing fight that surrounded them. Your husband had drawn a gun in contempt, only to be tackled by Tommy’s men. He never was quick on his feet. 

*

It happened months later in the middle of an uncertain spring, when his face popped in your mind again. You had seen him in the shadows and in every drunk that passed you in the street. You saw him beneath the knife of the butcher, when rain fell from parted skies, and in the ominous sound violins made when played. But worst of all, you had seen his face in Arthur Shelby’s as he screamed at you yet again for getting in his way. Most of the family had accepted your relationship, as they pitied your cold sweats and silent demeanor, but mostly because the deal didn't ruin the Shelby empire. 

Once home, you stared aimlessly at the crackling fire, allowing the warmth to envelope you like a protective hug. Tommy made his way towards your figure and sat cross legged, whisky in hand. “Where’s your mind today, bird?” He whispered, tenderly stroking your pinned hair. 

“Thinking about the night my husband sold me like cattle.” Tommy side eyed you, clearly tense about the topic. “Did he?” you pressed again, “no one’s ever told me anything about it. I know we technically won, b- but Arthur’s been up my arse again and I can’t, not for the life of me, continue to be a prisoner of utterly worthless and untrue remarks!” She grew agitated withe very word, but all were true, and he knew this. His hand continued rubbing circles in the back of her neck and chuckle, a small one, escaped his lips. 

“Do you take me for a fool Tommy? Because I assure-“

“I don’t.” He cut her off. “You're no fool. I think you've proven that a few times now, right? You weren't a fool when you were with him and you're not one now.” 

“Then what, Tommy? What could have possibly been said that guaranteed my freedom and his ruin?”

He sighed sensing her desperation, but he couldn't possibly tell her. In fact, he hadn't even told his family. Arthur’s distaste for Y/N was shrouded in mystery itself, more so a rendition of the protective older brother, a one man play. Any other man would have disclosed the information to a close confidant, but not Tommy- never Tommy. It is why under the fire’s glow and the tenderness of your flesh beneath his fingers, he promised himself yet again to never speak a word of it to anyone, not even you. It would remain an active memory buried in the inner, darkest corners of his mind. Each time he visited Mr. Crooke, in a most disclosed location, he would remember to discard the clothing used and have an alibi prepared. A pesky little thing he was, a washed up creature that would receive every punishment he gave;  but no one should know, least of all her, because just like that night, no one else was in the room where it happened. No one knew the words that were spoken or how the deal was made. 

Only assumptions were made. And with one last stroke of the cheek and a light kiss to the lips, Thomas Shelby and Y/N stood up in silent agreement and retired to their newly marital bed. 

[pointnumbersixteen]

My Personal Ranking of Ghosts Episodes and Why

So, here’s my personal order for all the current Ghosts episodes, from best to worst, with a bit of an explanation as to why I think so. I included who wrote each episode because the writing pairs tend to have consistent strengths and weaknesses that affect my enjoyment. These are, of course, just my opinions, and I recognize that different people have different tastes.  

1) Moonah Ston (Larry and Martha)

This episode is hilarious and it continues to be hilarious through multiple viewings (some of the jokes in other episodes start to wear thin after multiple viewings, but this one remains entirely solid through dozens of rewatches). Barclay and Bunny are my favorite guest characters throughout the show. Also some of my all-time favorite bits are in it: Cap stealing Thomas’s role doing the reading, the shooting of the pheasant with Cap, everything to do with Mary and the cooking of the pheasant, the way Alison yeets the pelaverga as soon as it’s handed to her, the juxtaposition of the eclipse ritual and the dinner party, Bunny’s ‘sobriety test.’ Also, there’s a strong A plot and a strong B plot that tie together, and all of the characters are fit into these two plots well, which is something the creators sometimes struggle with.

2) Getting Out (Mat and Jim)

I love everything about the Captain’s portion of the plot and it’s a nice big portion, too. His scene with Kitty is one of my favorite scenes in the show, brilliantly written, well-acted, and gorgeously shot. I can feel for Mike and Alison in it. Fiona’s another really funny guest character. My only major complaint is that the plot with other ghosts after the Captain’s left the group starts to drag after enough re-watches, particularly Thomas’s bad erotica and the jewel scene. I found both very funny on the first several watches, but the payoff to both is ruined with enough rewatches. With the first, the payoff is with how surprisingly bad for a ‘professional’ writer his story is, but after you’re well aware that Thomas is a bad writer, it’s just listening to bad writing over and over again. And the bit with Fanny’s jewel has such a long lead up, to get to the surprise payoff that the jewel was secretly pawned by George forever ago, but once you know the jewel is gone, the long lead up gets progressively more tedious with every watch. At least for me.

3) Reddy Weddy (Ben and Simon)

I’ve written extensively about this one before, so I won’t include much, but: I love everything having to do with the Captain in this one, particularly the completely wonderful flashbacks with Havers. Mike and Alison were very well done, and I enjoyed Martin as a guest character. But I really didn’t like the whose-turn-is-it-to-pick-the-movie subplot, it just seemed sort of unnecessary to me and detracted from the tone of the rest of it. I assume they just had trouble finding a better integrated role for Pat, Thomas and Julian, which, as I said under Moonah Ston, is an occasional weakness the creators had.

4) Gorilla War (Larry)

I love Cap’s campaign of attrition. And his singing. Everyone had solid, funny bits, all tied into one main plot in it. Mike and Alison are both well done in this episode. It’s the first episode where Alison is able to interact with the ghosts and I think they did a great job capitalizing on her coming to terms with it and Mike’s such a supportive husband in it.  

5) About Last Night (Mat and Jim)

I love the spat between Cap and Pat in this one, because the focus of their subplot is their relationship dynamic and I enjoy their relationship dynamic- even though it’s close to the breaking point in this instance, all is well because they make up in the end. Everything about the state of the house and trying to remember what happened to it-as well as the flashbacks to the party- is pretty funny. The bits with Dante were very funny as well. The Robin-Mary subplot was a bit meh for me, but I didn’t dislike it, I’m just not sold on the idea. I didn’t enjoy Mike being sidelined on the roof for most of the episode when Alison needed his help and all the criticism he got from the other characters for not being around to help Alison, though.

6) Who Do You Think You Are? (Mat and Jim)

This is a really strong introductory episode with some good, funny bits in it, but it doesn’t rank higher since the ghosts can’t interact with Alison yet and Mike and Alison don’t know they’re there, which is where a lot of the fun of the concept of the show comes in to me.

7) Bump in the Night (Larry and Martha)              

The robbers were funny as were the ghosts’ utterly inept attempts (save Robin) in stopping them. I loved music club, particularly the Captain’s performance. I appreciated the return of Barclay and his bitches. Humphrey was actually reasonably included in the plot, which is always a nice change. There weren’t any bits I found particularly outstanding (except maybe Cap’s musical performance) but there weren’t any major bits I disliked, either. Everyone’s included in one main plot and it continues to be just as enjoyable on rewatches.

8) The Thomas Thorne Affair (Mat and Jim)

I greatly enjoy examine-the-story-from-multiple-viewpoints-to-illustrate-unreliable-narration plots, so that went well in this episode. I also really like regency romances, so this ticked another box for me. Humphrey was given an important bit again, which I appreciate. The bit about Francis was a nice twist at the end, because otherwise it would have been a bit too predictable, with Thomas being shot in a duel over a romantic misunderstanding- that was the most obvious solution to his death, after all. It felt a bit contrived, though, that the characters who died after Thomas all went to the group meeting on time, while the characters who witnessed Thomas’s death were all still wandering around upstairs and just happen to wander into Alison’s room in time to contradict the last telling of the story and provide the next. And of course, the fact that half the cast is just sort of sitting downstairs waiting for a significant portion of the episode always seemed a bit lacking to me. Also, Mike starts the episode being unusually stupid (not knowing Elizabeth II is the current queen- at least in the US, not being able to answer who the current President is frequently used as shorthand for ‘having brain damage’) and spends the rest of it being insecure about Alison’s ex (this seems to be a Mat and Jim thing).  

9) Perfect Day (Mat and Jim)

I loved all the Cap bits in this. Pat’s plotline was good, too. Humphrey actually had a substantial role, which I appreciated, and more so since he actually managed to bring Fanny around to the gay wedding. I was of course thrilled that it was a lesbian wedding. But I’m not a fan of ‘miscommunication causes drama’ plots in any medium and I disliked how once again how insecure Mike is in this episode (Mat and Jim again) and how poorly he handles it.

10) Happy Death Day (Ben)

I love all the Pat bits. I liked the interactions between the Captain and Julian, they had a really enjoyable dynamic in this one, although they’re being rather disappointing human beings in their plotline. I like Kitty’s plotline, too, and the garden scene between her and Fanny is very funny and beautifully framed. I don’t think this episode did a particularly good job with either Mike or Alison, though. Mike ditches his probably still concussed wife who is plagued by ghosts to manage the building work he started because he’s spending hours a day out of the house because there are too many people in it and he’s apparently potty-shy and Alison thinks trying to convince people to do probably thousands, if not more, pounds worth of free labor by making them tea is both a plausible idea and an appropriate thing to even try (it’s bad enough when the people asking you to do free work for them are actually your friends, contriving a friendship in order to do this just sort of seems a bit contemptible to me). Some of the jokes get less funny with time- Fanny with the butt cracks, for instance. I considered the Thomas subplot another weak ‘well, something needs to be done with this character’ subplot and I can’t even remember off the top of my head what Mary was doing most of the episode despite having seen it at least a dozen times, besides the bit where Alison throws the teacup at her head (and if I were Terry, I would have called it quits then).  

11) The Ghost of Christmas (Ben and Simon)

Mostly fluff, and a decent amount of it was rather predictable fluff, but I’ve written more on that elsewhere. Mike’s sisters were the worst. I was hoping Ben would write himself a bigger role and he didn’t. In the Bleak Midwinter was gorgeous, though, and there were enough smaller bits that I found endearing to prop it up over the next two.

12) The Grey Lady (Larry and Martha)

I enjoy the ghosts’ routine as shown at the beginning of the episode. I found Pat’s radio show amusing. I liked the basement scene with Nigel. I wasn’t a huge fan of the Captain’s ‘stretching’ subplot (although I do greatly enjoy his  ‘for king and country’ running), it just seemed a bit silly to me, like they couldn’t decide what to do with him for most of the episode, so went with ‘eh, squats, I guess.’ Also, I feel like they had trouble placing Mary and Kitty, too. Mary spends a lot of the episode staring at a wall and Kitty spends all of it just following the group and occasionally wailing about the ‘ghost-ghost.’ Also, I think Alison went a little too far with her simulated haunting when she dressed up as the Grey Lady; it wasn’t smart because there was no way she was going to get away with it after anyone turned on the lights and it seems a bit more like attempting to defraud people than the rest of it did.

13) Free Pass (Mat and Jim)

Alison actively puts people in danger for money, misrepresenting the house as structurally sound in order to get a movie contract, when in fact the floors are held up by hope and happy thoughts and could (and eventually do) cave at any moment. If the floor had fallen through in the letter scene, before Mike braced it, when they were using the heavy equipment, there likely would have been serious injuries. Also: Toby Nightingale is the worst. Also: the solidity and supportive nature of Mike and Alison’s relationship is the best part of it and I dislike the choice (Mat and Jim again) to make him so insecure in this episode (this was the first in the episode order to do so).

To speak on general tendencies, though: I’m not a fan of doing morally questionable things for monetary reasons unless the situation is life or death, so all of the episodes where that’s Alison’s primary purpose get major demerits from me. That’s a matter of personal taste, but there I am. As for the writers (I recognize they all come up with the general story arcs together, but the writing pairs are responsible for execution), everyone struggles a bit sometimes to get solid roles for everyone into the plot, to be expected when the cast is so large, but some instances are worse than others. I think Larry’s (well, Larry/Martha for most of them, but they’ve both joked that mostly she drinks and he writes when they’re working on their episodes) still the strongest writer in terms of having mostly cohesive plots that standup consistently as solid to multiple viewings, but he also has the most experience as a writer, so that’s probably to be expected. Ben and Simon have both stated that they like jig-sawing a bunch of little plots together to make an episode, and while it is a bit impressive that they can make episodes with like, nearly as many plotlines as characters come together to make one reasonably sane episode, I find this strategy detrimental in that to me, when they do this, there’s always one or two plots that are really, really good, a few plots that are pretty good, and then one or two plots that I just don’t enjoy, that to me drag down the rest of the episode (most apparent in Reddy Weddy, but it happens to some degree in all of their episodes). My major criticism of Mat and Jim is with the way they write Mike. I actually really like Mike when he’s well done, but his portrayal seems to vary a lot between episodes, and (with the exception of Ben’s Happy Death Day, but his problems in that one are different) the episodes he’s written the weakest in are all written by Mat and Jim. They’re the only ones who I think write Mike as insecure in his relationship with Alison and his most incompetent and/or useless moments also tend to be written by them. I don’t know if they have a slightly different concept of Mike’s character than the other four or what, but I think Larry/Martha and Ben/Simon’s portrayals of him tend to be significantly more flattering.

[pochapal]

I hate doctor 11 but ive never been able to explain why in like words lmao. He feels like such a mary sue character imo and like theres something about his characterisation that was always just really ineffective (like the stuff about fishfingers and custard or whatever it was). Imo i'd love to hear you give top 5 worst things about the 11 era because i rlly just love when it gets torn apart

i hold nothing but a seething contempt and loathing for that man. every time he appeared on screen i felt ready to snap like a riled up chimpanzee in my enclosure. i am frothing at the mouth and overcome with a desire to start flinging heavy objects. this might be incoherent and inconsistent but i started this rewatch in feb 2020 and only finished this week so i got through 11′s episodes last august/september time and i refuse to revisit it to jog my memory or fact check anything i’m saying here because this man does not deserve the space in my mind for that.

the first thing is i can’t fucking STAND the quirky whimsy timey wimey bit he has going on all of the time. i can’t even say this is because this is a kids show and i was a teen and then adult when i first properly watched him but actually!! when i was eleven years old i’d sleep over at a friend’s house most weekends and it always coincided with the airing of a new season 5 episode and i remember we watched the finale with the dumb time hopping to get out of the box prison that was never explained and didn’t make sense and i thought at the time “this is really stupid”. and before that my only other doctor who exposure was watching the david tennant christmas specials with another friend and throughout childhood my only opinion on doctor who was “this is a tv show that is not for me but is one that all the boys i am friends with like so i will put up with it to maintain our friendships” but at least those episodes were both suspenseful and engaging enough to keep me watching all the way through. like who the fuck does an end of the world sci fi plot and approaches it with an “oopsy woopsy i am a funny little alien man who is going to stop you all by making you do a hecking silly” like it’s unneeded and self-parodies an already cheesy show to the point where it becomes unwatchable and makes it impossible to ever take this man seriously.

next thing that downright sucks ass so badly is the stupid fucking overwritten constantly escalating plotlines. like everything from season 5 up until his regeneration at the end of season 7 is meant to be this grand interconnected cosmic plot about how...the doctor trying to bring back his planet will end the universe or something so all the top powers across all of reality tried again and again to stop him from doing that except he doesn’t know what’s going on so he keeps thwarting these people who supposedly mean good?? i mean i sure don’t fucking know what they were trying to say!! like for some reason we never get the doctor suddenly becomes this superdemon that threatens everything so these people (whoever they are) decide to, in sequence: suck him through a time rift to erase him from existence, trap him in a prison and remake a universe without him, take his companion’s baby and turn her into a perfectly trained doctor killer, form two(!!) secret societies to hunt him throughout history that are only stopped by his companion splintering herself across his personal timeline to protect him, and repeatedly cause reality collapsing events because it’s a kinder outcome for the universe than what he will do. this grand and terrible event turns out to be...he spends a few hundred years chilling by a rift that leads to his home planet and protects a few generations of children from monsters which convinces them to give him infinite regeneration power then fuck off back to their pocket universe. and it’s like!! what is the point of anything that happens in this man’s era when everything is always “the darkest moment” or whatever the fuck!! i don’t care!! we never get a compelling reason to believe this bumbling clown of a man could ever be a universal threat!! the whole thing is so dumb i hate it!!!

thing number three i hate is how the eleventh doctor is ALSO characterised as this abrasive egotistic male supergenius to the point where he becomes genuinely indistinguishable from bbc sherlock. genuinely who enjoyed seeing this guy constantly tell people their tiny human minds can’t comprehend what he’s doing and then basically just wave his magic wand to solve whatever problem each episode is facing. 2012 is the year of human sin because this fucking shitsmear character archetype somehow became both a redditor role model AND a tumblr sexyman and it’s like!! nobody is enjoying this stop making this seem cool! him saying timey wimey thing any time he does anything is frustrating and dumb and locks the viewer out of giving a fuck about anything that is happening! smartest man in the room syndrome is a disease and the eleventh doctor is terminal with it. like remember how they established river as an accomplished scientist (when she wasn’t being a child soldier or a time paradox or whatever the fuck) and every time that came up mr doctor eleven man was like “oh this thing is obvious because i’m a genius and you didn’t realise because your brain is tiny so get out of the way and let the grownups think” or that time it turned out amy had been replaced with a slime clone for half the season and the doctor chewed rory (audience surrogate) out for somehow not realising this fact we didn’t know right from the start and like. this served no purpose other than to draw into severe question why the doctor is also this super beloved magical figure implicitly trusted by all children everywhere like. mr steven moffat is totally allergic to writing and solving mysteries in his tv show and fuck you for wanting to figure things out as you go along based on the new evidence you uncover at strategic plot intervals just let this asshole man use magical thinking to reveal he knew the answer all along and you’re a fucking idiot for not also realising this thing which had no basis or precedent anywhere else in the show.

speaking of dumb things let us not forget the absolute shitshow that was minority representation in this era. i’m not even talking about the low hanging fruit of how genuinely unironically sexist amy and clara were written where each episode moffat either seemed to loathe them or was incredibly horny over them and they had no character growth or arc or fucking anything. i’m talking about how fucking shit terrible the incidental representation was. god remember how every single fucking gay person who appeared in this era was written as one incredibly fucking stupid joke and how the women were all either sexy dominatrix, feeble girl in love, or Mother (or all three in some really terrible cases) and i’m not qualified to talk about this but also how incredibly white this era was and how on two separate occasions we had monarchs reimagined as sexy girlbosses with a gun played by black women who the doctor leched over. nothing about any of this was good ESPECIALLY coming off the back of rtd who was surprisingly forward thinking for 2005 and did a really good job of positing travel with the doctor as queer allegory. in comparison moffat gave us THE MOST heterosexual shlock i’ve ever had to endure. amy and rory could have been interesting characters were they not hemmed into this domestic bickering young straight married couple bullshit that was in no way changed or altered by traveling with the doctor except for the quasi incestuous river song reveal that was dumb and bad and stupid.

the last major mega gripe i have with the series is moffat’s fucking jingoistic boner for british military aesthetics. this carried over throughout his entire tenure as showrunner but was super terrible vomit inducing in eleven’s era. the unironic admiration for ww2 britain and winston churchill is downright wretched. are you incapable of telling a second world war story outside of churchill’s london and plucky blitz fighters. shit gives me hives so badly. and then!!! that weird church owned army that features in the future that end up being bad not for the concept of what basically amounts to an imperialistic intergalactic rendition of the fucking crusades but because they’re part of the nonsense go nowhere puzzlebox narrative that says the doctor is a not good man who will do bad things to the universe :(. remember how rtd’s doctor was a freshly traumatised man hot off the war criminal press who time and time again vehemently refuses to engage in military violence, but who tragically inadvertently turns every one of his companions into soldiers in his own personal army, and he has this moment of complete horror at the realisation and it is this which causes the downward spiral that ends in 10′s regeneration. and then how there’s this cringe line about how there’s a force of people who are “the doctor’s army, always ready to fight his battles when he’s not around” or some shit and then it turns out this is actually massive literal military operation and we’re meant to celebrate this. fuck off.

bonus round because this needs to be said but i have never hated anything like i hated that fucking human tardis episode. everything about it induced violent anger in me from the sickening overindulgence of that softgoth dark whimsy helena bonham carter tim burton aesthetic to the bafflingly terrible evil carny stereotype of those junk scavengers to the overblown sudden tragic shipbait romance of human tardis and the doctor. every word out of her mouth was trite shit and the fact that the death of her body was presented as this super emotional dramatic scene despite there being no buy in or incentive to care and the fact that every single person on tumblr in 2012 ate that shit up like it was fucking gourmet. i loathe every single thing about that episode so much.

[soyeahitsmiddleearth]

Hush Now

I accidentally deleted the request, but anon asked for “Kili saving human Reader who’s usually very brave from something which terrified her a lot.” I changed it up a bit and its story heavy. But here we go!

Kili x Reader

Trigger warning: Mentioned character death

Throughout your life you’ve always had to be strong. 

When your father died, you stayed strong so your mother didn’t have to.

When your mother fell to sickness, you stayed strong so your sister didn’t have to. 

When your sister sold you out for a reward of 200 gold pieces, you stayed strong so she wouldn’t have the satisfaction of knowing that she completely destroyed you.

After you and your sister were left as impoverished orphans, you took to a life of crime to make sure she would always have something to eat. Not just crime, though, for you also sold your services as a mercenary amongst… other things. 

You had learned how to kill at the prime age of 15, and very quickly after that did your skills polish into something that even a grown man would fear if he knew what you were capable of.

You’d done everything for her. You’d sold yourself, your dignity, your innocence of the blade, everything. And after you had no more to give, she tossed you aside for barely enough to last her 6 months. 

The look she gave you that day, that apathetic stare as you were dragged away, shattered your heart into a million pieces, and it wasn’t until later when you’d killed the guards and fled from the city that you actually sat down and cried.

Despite the tragic nature of your past, though, there is no dramatic revenge plot or motivation to hunt her down. There is no desire to make her pay or see her suffer, for you released all of these feelings of contempt years ago.

A part of you wonders from time to time if she knew you would escape. If she, perhaps, sold you out for such a small amount so you would be freed from watching over her and catering to her. That, maybe, if you were to search for her, then she would smile and tell you how much she missed you, how sorry she was for not telling you of her plans. 

You know those are just the fantasies of a foolish girl holding onto the image of a sweet 9 year old, clutching your leg and asking when your next meal will be and telling you how she never wants you to leave her. It’s just your mind clutching onto the past, wanting to smooth over the trauma and pain that you go through thinking of her every day…

Though, in another regard you might also thank her. 

If it weren’t for her treachery, you would’ve never met him. 

After you abandoned your home town and became a full time rouge and sword for hire, you were sought out by a greying old man who claimed to be a wizard named Gandalf. 

He offered you a 15th share in a mountain full of riches and the opportunity to help reunite a king with his castle. 

It all seemed far fetched and kinda ridiculous, but he paid you a handsome amount up front so you agreed. And then it turned out that he wasn’t lying, for not even a week later do you meet this king in a wonderful town called the Shire. 

This Thorin was reluctant to allow you on the quest, but upon the instance and praise of Gandalf, he agreed. 

His youngest nephew, Kili, caught your eye right away. 

He is, not only, rather tall for a dwarf, but he’s quite cute by human’s standards too. Not to mention the fact that he approached you first with a big goofy smile on his face and curiosity in his eyes. 

The two of you got along rather easily, and for the first time since you became a devout mercenary and rouge, you found that you could trust someone. 

Trusting someone other than yourself is not easy, though, and there are many moments in which you doubt that trust when the more paranoid part of your mind whispers how he’ll betray you; but your fondness for this dwarf wins out for you in the end. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you cry or heard you complain before.” Kili comments suddenly, successfully snapping you out of your spiraling thoughts. 

You look down at him from your horse and raise an eyebrow, “Are you saying you wish to see me cry?”

“N-No, that’s not what I meant at all!” He stutters when you seem to take his words the wrong way, “I only meant to say that you… come across as very impassive and restrained. Like when you got stabbed in the arm, you didn’t so much as utter one ‘ow’." 

He has a point, you realize, but it’s only become so natural for you to keep it all inside that you barely noticed, "I’ll have you know I did cry, it was just very quiet." 

It looks like he doesn’t believe you. 

"Really, it’s true. It hurt horribly, but I waited until Oin was done so my tears wouldn’t bother him.” Saying it out loud makes you feel silly and a little weird, and you wonder why you even told him in the first place. 

“Are you telling me you didn’t cry because it would unnerve our healer?” He asks incredulously, his eyebrows knitting together in confusion. 

“Well when you say it like that…” You grumble, unconsciously reaching up to rub where the healing wound is. 

“I don’t mean to judge you, Y/N, I’m only curious.” He adds quickly, having his pony move a bit faster for a moment so he can get a peek at your face. “You seem to be rather fearless, I don’t think even my uncle could intimidate you." 

His words draw a laugh from your lips, and you look down at him with amusement sparkling in your eyes, "Everyone is afraid of something, Kili." 

"Then what are you afraid of?”

An innocent question, but one you don’t much want to answer. 

You force your smile to stay on your face and reply rather slyly, “Nothing other than Dwalin’s smell." 

"I heard that!” Said dwarf grumbles angrily not too far behind you. 

Kili stares at you for a few moments, clearly not believing you but not pressing on it any more. 

Honestly, you have no idea how he does that. He can read you like a book; somehow always knowing when you’re holding something back while also being able to tell what you’re feeling at any moment. 

But for some reason, you don’t really dislike having someone know you so well. 

“We’re going to be at the Misty Mountains soon enough, do you think we’ll get a chance to stop at a town?” You ask suddenly, looking down at him again. 

“Yes, actually. My uncle had this part mapped out with Gandalf.”

Well, that’s a relief. 

—

The group did end up stopping at a town, and let me just say, finally getting a chance to sleep on a soft, warm bed after being condemned to the ground for so long is a glorious experience. 

You slept pretty well that night, and at around 5 in the morning you get up as per usual. 

You’ve always been an early riser, or maybe paranoid sleeper is a better way to describe it. Your body has adapted to less sleep, and it got to the point where you just can’t stay asleep much later than 6 on any given day. 

Anyway, you get up early and decide to browse around the town for anything you may want or need, and for the better part of the next hour while you wait for your friends to awake, you idly wander and enjoy the tranquility of the morning.

Everything is wonderful and calm… until it isn’t.

At first, you thought you had imagined it. 

The sudden flash of a figure in your peripherals, but when you turned there was nothing. And then when you turned a corner, there was a flash of familiar (h/c) hair that whipped past. Your hairs began to stand on end, and you knew right away that you were being watched. 

You thought that perhaps someone saw you and was planning to rob or assault you, but you knew you could take whoever it is if that were the case. 

And then you saw her. 

For real this time, head on with no blur or fuzzy images. 

There she stood in front of you, her expression blank and body frozen in place, her face the exact same as you remember it from all those years ago.

You breathe her name in disbelief, taking a few steps back. It can’t be real, maybe you’re still dreaming? 

“You’re a hard woman to find.” She states softly in that sweet voice you could never forget. 

“Y-You were looking for me?” You stutter with, dare you say, hope, hand falling from your weapon while you look on in shock. 

“I was.” Is her only reply. 

It’s as if your brain has stopped working and you can no longer form a coherent thought or phrase, but you do eventually stammer out, “It’s been so long…" 

She doesn’t reply, and you suddenly feel unnerved. 

"Why were you looking for me?" 

She still says nothing, her gaze burning into you like the sun on a hot summer morning and her face unmoving.

And then she steps forward, but you don’t move and let her get close. 

"I’m going to get a lot more than 200 coins for you, this time.” She whispers, reaching up to press her palm to your face.

You know what she means, but for some reason your feet won’t let you move. It’s as if your feet are glued to the ground and knees locked tight. You continue to stare into her eyes, seeing nothing there like the day she let those guards drag you away. 

Her movements are fast, and before you can even open your mouth her dagger is sticking into your neck. 

-

You sit up with a loud gasp, hand flying to your throat as you frantically look around the room. 

It all floods back to you, and you realize that it was only a dream. That you made it out of the town with your throat intact and never having seen your sister.

That you all faced those god awful goblins and ended up here at some point.

For the first time in your 10 years of isolation, you want to cry.

To scream and break things, to pull out your hair and hurt someone. 

To find her and hurt her for what she did to you all those years ago. 

This line of thinking shocks you to your very core, and you reach up without a second thought and rub your face roughly, willing the thoughts to disappear. 

You haven’t had a dream like this in years, and you have no idea what’s prompted it now. 

When your eyes begin to burn and a lump settles in your throat, you jump to your feet and hurriedly go to another room so you can sort it out away from prying ears and eyes, only your sudden jerking awake alerted someone else to your state of distress. 

Once you’re isolated in another room, you begin to pace back and fourth quickly with you hands tangled in your hair. 

No matter how much you will the tears to evaporate and for your breathing to calm, though, they remain. Very soon do those unshed tears begin to stream down your face in long wet streams, and your breathing becomes more ragged as hyperventilation starts. 

And then you hear someone call your name. 

“Y/N…?" 

Your shoulders stiffen and you resist the urge to turn towards that ever familiar voice, your hands shaking at your sides as you clench them into fists. 

"You shouldn’t be here, Kili.” You say softly, your voice thick with emotion and not as strong as you’d like for it to be. 

There is no response, but you hear him approach carefully. He’s very good at keeping himself quiet, you’ve noticed, but your ears are trained to hear every little thing, so naturally you can hear him quite clearly. 

“Are… you crying?” He asks slowly, now standing right next to you. 

“No.” You deny a bit stronger this time, turning your face away sharply so that he won’t get a peek at your tear stained face. 

Once again there is silence (a much longer stretch of it this time), and for a moment you think he may have even left without you noticing; but when you look back, he’s looking at you with an unreadable expression on his face, 

Right away you reach up and rub at the tear streaks staining your face, and a deep set frown settles on your face, “I’m fine." 

Pain flashes across his face at your assurance of being alright, and if it weren’t for the fact that he could see you, he probably would’ve believed it too. 

"You don’t really expect me to believe that, do you?” He asks just as quietly, placing a hand on your arm lightly. 

“…No.” You mumble after some time, sighing heavily as you move away to settle into a pile of hay with your back to the wall and your arms wrapped tightly around yourself like a shield or self hug. 

Kili follows you without hesitation and sits next to you, his leg pressing against yours while you both descend into silence once more. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” He offers in that same soft, sweet voice of his, reaching up to rub your arm reassuringly. “You don’t have to." 

For some reason, you actually kind of want to. 

"I told you about my upbringing, didn’t I?” You answer his question with a question and feel no remorse for it. “And of my sister?" 

He nods his head and drops his hand back into his lap, looking up at you with the smallest of smiles on his face. 

"I haven’t really thought about any of that in a while, you see. Not to say that I don’t think of it every day, but I more so mean the feelings I had then, how it felt and all the anger I once had.” You pause and shake your head, “I’m not making any sense." 

"No, I understand. And even if I didn’t, it’s your story to tell, so you tell it how you wish." 

You nod your head at that and continue, "I had a dream…,” you begin with a softer voice this time, your fingers digging into your arms while you huge yourself, “Of my sister. Of her finding me, having fallen onto the same wretched path as I, and killing me. Sticking me in the throat with a knife like a pig being bled out for a feast, telling me that she’ll be awarded much more for me this time around as if I were some sort of merchandise that she was selling.” You spit out the similes like they taste bad in your mouth, and you unconsciously hold yourself tighter as you remember the night terror. 

Long silences are very quickly becoming a trend, for once more the only thing filling the air at the moment is the quiet that wraps around the both of you. 

“That’s why you’re crying?" The dwarf inquires compassionately, looking over at you with a frown of his own and sadness shinning in his eyes. 

"I’m not crying anymore.” You grumble, only to realize that tears have, in fact, begun to shed tears once more. “O-Oh…" 

Before you can reach up and dispel the salty droplets of your sorrows from your eyes, two hands come up to cup the sides of your face while two matching thumbs smooth across your wet cheeks to do it for you. 

This time he wears a small, sympathetic smile, and once he wipes all your tears away he keeps his hands as they are. "I cannot pretend to know what you go through or how that night terror made you feel, but… I do understand. What you’ve had to endure throughout your life has shaped who you are now, and while I would not trade who you are for anything, I do wish that I could do something to ease your pain." 

His fingers continue to smooth along your cheek gently, and you find that you can’t help it when your eyes slide shut and you lean into the warmth of his hands. 

With delicate movements, you reach up and place one of your hands over his, sighing through your nose before opening your eyes again to look at him. 

"Thank you for saying that, Kili.” You breathe with a small smile upturning the corners of your lips.

When you smile his own brightens and he says more joyfully this time, “Of course. And know that I meant every word of it." 

Slowly you slot your hand against his own until you’re holding it, and then it rests between the two of you while you engage in some sort of odd, intimate stare down.

And then you lean forward and press a light kiss against his cheek, brightening when you see his face turn slightly red. 

"I meant that, too.” You reply cheekily, forgetting your sorrows for a moment while you just enjoy the company of this wonderful dwarf. 

“And I mean this.” He shoots back before pecking your lips gently. 

This time it’s your turn to become flustered, but you still smile and allow yourself to laugh. 

“Thank you." 

[inkribbon796]

Like a House of Cards Ch. 11: Opposites React

Summary: The heroes go looking for Dark and Logan’s group.

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13

As they stood on the street, the Anomaly that would appear in a bank vault gone from the Host’s hands, they had to recover from the power of the Anomaly coursing through them for a second time.

Chase collapsed onto his knees, feeling just a soul-deep sorrow. He was crying from memories and loss he couldn’t remember. “Fook.”[1]

“Chase?” Jackie dragged his feet over, he was feeling sluggish but it was thankfully easing from his body quickly.

“I’m fine,” Chase wiped his face with his arm. “I’m fine.”

“We can stop fer[2] a bit,” Jackie promised, helping Chase up.

“I’m grand,”[3] Chase promised.

“The Host and Chase will form one group, and Silver, Ethan, and Jackie will form the other as they try to find Dark’s group. “He asks that the heroes get their outfits back on, and for Silver and Jackie to try not to get themselves into trouble.”

“Ehh, we should be fine,” Jackie promised. “So long as Chase is gonna be okay.”

“We gotta talk anyways,” Chase nodded at the Host. “Try not ta[4] fight a hoard ‘a[5] bears.”

“No promises,” Mark smiled, and then the three of them left.

Silver, Crank, and Jackie waited in the alley for almost five minutes, getting bored. Ethan’s ADHD kicked him in the teeth before Mark’s did. Then a shootout started next to them. Several people were screaming and someone that the heroes thought looked a lot like Dark when he was pretending to be Damien. Except he wasn’t in his typical outfit, his hair was wild, and there was a streak of blue in his hair.

Ethan immediately cloaked them with his invisibility. They began to approach.

Two guys jumped on him and dragged him away. And then someone who looked almost exactly like Chase passed by the mouth of the alley.

“Don’t fookin’[6] let that arsehole[7] escape again!” Chase shouted.

The heroes got closer as the men used magic to tie “Damien” up.

He looked down at the bonds and then smiled at “Chase” which made the other man groan, “Dames, Don’t.”

“Kinky,” Dames smiled, his smile huge, leaning forward as much as the bonds would let him. “Chase. How’s life, doll?”

Chase glared at his captive before leaning in to get close to his face. “What the fook is wrong wit’ yeh?”[8]

The bound man just smiled, shrugging, “You’re going to have to be specific?”

“I meant Marvin, yeh mad fook, are yeh tryin’ ta kill my kid?”[9] Chase spat.

Dames’ only answer was, “If you wanted to get rough in bed, we’d need a bed for that.”

Chase grabbed him by the front of his shirt, “Keep yer[10] brat away from my kid, I don’t want the General killin’[11] him.”

“What’s with all this “killing” business,” Dames chuckled. “You and Gen are worried so much for your little games. They’re old enough to make all kinds of decisions.”

“Yeh taking the boys ta’a whorehouse isn’t a good choice, ya nutter,”[12] Chase spat.

“True,” Dames agreed, “they really had more fun with each other.”

“Fook this,” Jackie finally decided, as his whole body began to shake.

Silver grabbed Ethan and flew up, Ethan keeping them invisible as Jackie punched one of the thugs and then grabbed Dames, racing off with him. Silver flying in to keep up.

“What are you doing?” Silver demanded. “We’re supposed to be laying low.”

“I don’t know, I’m makin’[13] this up as I go along,” Jackie yelled, tugging Dames with them as they ran.

“What are we doing?” Dames asked. “Are we playing tag?”

“Yes!” Jackie yelled before anyone else could speak. “An’[14] Brody back there’s it.”

“Oh,” Dames said with a soft realization, then he smiled and grabbed them. “Well, we won’t win like this.”

Then they suddenly found themselves being slammed into the concrete wall of an alley, Jackie taking an especially hard hit because of his momentum.

Dames was looking them up and down as the heroes regained their composure, the corner of Dames’s mouth twitching a little bit. “You three aren’t from around here.”

“How’d yah[15] guess?” Jackie smiled as he got up, Silver floating before he was able to stand.

“Silly cheaters,” Dames laughed. “Couldn’t win your own game so you jumped to a new board.”

“It is so weird seeing you like this” Silver set his feet on the ground.

Dames shrugged, and then a portal began to twist open. It wasn’t quite like Dark’s dark purple-black Void magic. It was a deep red-magenta that felt more like hands ripping their way free.

Ethan tried to shield them but Dames couldn’t be cloned and excitedly stepped free to meet the man who stepped out of the portal. He had a sharp black suit and a bushy black mustache. A red and magenta aura coming off of him like Dark’s red and blue aura. He had dark red and magenta after images that echoed and stuttered off of him.

“Gen,” Dames smiled excitedly, holding his arms out.

“Where’s Junior?” Gen asked.

“I don’t know,” Dames denied, his good mood quickly starting to evaporate. “Ask your little trackers you put on them.”

General glared at Dames, “What were you two doing?”

“Nothing,” Dames almost giggled.

Dark’s glare became more baleful and he grabbed Dames by the front of his jacket, Dames giggling in response. “Don’t give me that bullshit, Dames. Did you let Bim go off with that hooligan?”

“Mayhaps,” Dames’s smile became almost giddy.

“Dames!” the General pinned him against the closest wall. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten what you did,” Gen spat. “You can waste your time at brothels and clubs all you want, but you leave Junior out of it.”

Dames began giggling, “You have to admit, yours and Chase’s faces when you saw they were gone was pretty hilarious.”

“This isn’t funny!” the Entity snarled. “Bim is impressionable, no thanks to you. It burned down with them still in it!”

“At least I show him how to have a good time,” Dames dared. “You’d have him at a desk working papers until he died. He’s a kid.”

“Not anymore,” the General warned. “He stopped being a child when he turned sixteen. They all did.”

Dames rolled his eyes, “Ughh.”

The General stepped closer, “You cannot insist on treating them all like children, they are not.”

“Only because you wanted them to grow up, they never got to be children in the first place,” Dames argued back.

“You’re absolutely insufferable,” the Entity scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Why is being alive and safe so unfavorable to you.”

“You’d have him die in an office,” Dames spat.

“No I’d have him alive doing something,” the demon spat. “You insist on treating all of them like children. They are not, nor have they been for years.”

“I want my babies back,” Dames looked away, clearly upset. “What was so wrong with them being my babies? You said I could keep them.”

“They are safe, that should be enough. Do I make myself clear, Doomstrum?” Gen spat, his aura coiling just a hair too tight around the mad mayor.

Dames struggled in his hold for a bit before stopping, clearly refusing to look at or answer him.

Mark would have forced himself out of Ethan’s invisibility bubble, but the hero watched the demon’s expression soften for a couple seconds and then sighed before opening up a massive portal to show a relatively spartan office except for a very nice looking desk and a couch that looked extremely comfortable to sleep on. He let Dames go. “Let’s go Dames.”

The madman frowned and took a step before turning around, a smile spreading on his face again, “Oh, Gen, I have to introduce you to my new friends.”

“Your what?” The demon growled in frustration.

“Yeah they’re just,” Dames began, pointing to the three heroes at the end of the alley right before a portal ripped open behind them and a dark purple aura pulled them in and swiftly closed before the General or Dames could really react in more than surprise.

The three heroes landed on their backs around Dark’s feet in a dimly lit room.

“There we go, problem solved,” Dark announced.

“How does this solve our problems, you’ve led him straight to us!”

Jackie looked up in confusion, Virgil didn’t come with us?

When he looked up at Virgil however he was in a huge dark grey-black overcoat. His hair was different, but the eyeshadow still darkened his face.

Dark brought his aura up in time as a red-magenta magic tried to get into the room. He threw his aura against it and it was gone. “Nonsense, I can cloak areas to keep 

 magic from getting in.”

“Andy,” someone in a black beanie insisted, tugging on “Virgil’s” coat. The Side had some vitiligo marks on his face and hands, his eyes a deep golden yellow.

“Dee, not now,” Andy hissed.

“But they’re telling the—” Dee tried to report, before he was protectively pushed behind Andy.

“No,” Andy nudged his companions back and pointed to Dark. “I don’t trust you.”

“I don’t trust you,” he pointed to Wilford.

“And I sure as shit don’t trust you,” Andy spat at the Host. His voice was practically dripping with contempt.

“All we need to get to the next rift and we’re gone,” Dark scoffed. “We don’t need your trust.”

“So what’s the actual plan for getting home?” Silver asked the Host. “Seems like they’ve got a lot to deal with right now.”

“Simple we go into what is probably a horribly designed version of my office, and activate the Anomaly so it takes us home.” Dark dusted off his suit with his aura. “The plan’s already been made if you want to talk to the others.”

The Host dispelled an illusion and they saw the three Sides talking to Glitch Logan, and J.J peacefully napping in the corner. There was no sign of his double anywhere.

“I will have everything under control,” Logan spat at his doppelgänger.

“I don’t need to be reassured of anything,” Glitch Logan dismissed. “I have made redundancies and failsafes to ensure they do not die. If I was not certain, I would have raised my complaints. You will protect them, that is the only objective I need to give. If you work with the heroes, or with Google, I care not. Roman, Virgil, and Patton’s survival is all I care about. We spent a year’s worth of time working for it and I have come too far to fail now.”

“I will do so without needless killing” Logan promised.

Glitch Logan gave an inhuman smile, “We shall see, either way it’s inconsequential to me.”

The Anomaly glowed and it engulfed the two Logans completely before just Logan was standing there. He gave a shudder and a bunch of nanites fell to the ground around him, twitching once and then going offline, their components frying themselves so they couldn’t be used by anyone else.

Logan stiffened and Roman raced in to catch him.

“Lo, sweetheart?” Roman pleaded desperately as Logan blinked and coughed as air returned to his lungs.

The Host used a couple words from his narrations and the nanites were all gone from the floor.

Janus briefly checked on Logan before clearing his throat and drawing attention to himself, summoning his staff.

“The Host allowed us to speak with the other Sides, we got but a minute but we’ve come up with a plan,” Janus reported. “There is one fusion we have that enables us to make as much noise and commotion as possible, while showing that we are different people. I have spoken with this world’s Deceit and they cannot fuse—”

“Please don’t call me that, that’s not all I do,” Dee asked.

Janus paused, looking at Dee, “Of course do you have a preference?”

Andy was just watching Janus, staring at him.

“Dee,” Dee told him.

“Alright,” Janus agreed. “Anyways, I have spoken with Dee and they can’t fuse so it will be the easiest way to get the message across.”

“So we’re gonna use Remy?” Jackie asked.

“No,” Logan cut in. “Even before the merge I was not in the right emotional or mental mindset to fuse. My fusions are impossible without that mindset. My future self hinted the feeling would get worse and unfortunately he was right.”

“Okay, you’ve never exactly told us how fusion works,” Ethan reminded. “But I’m guessing that I’m gonna take a group in?”

“The heroes will not need to cause a distraction because the fusion will be enough to convince the General that they are different. Besides, the General will wish to speak to the Entity.”

“Will he?” Dark asked. “Last time he saw me he tried to take my head off.”

“Maybe we should talk to him,” Wilford smiled. “We never gave them a chance.”

“It is so weird seeing him in pink,” Andy commented.

“Why, what’s wrong with it?” Wil frowned. “Pink is a lovely color.”

“Nothing wrong with it, it’s just you’d rather set yourself on fire than wear pink,” Andy explained.

“No I wouldn’t, I’m wearing pink right now,” Wil gestured to himself.

Dark rubbed at the bridge of his nose, “This is going to take forever now.”

“No, I meant the other you, the douchebag in Armani,” Andy explained.

“Well then he should wear pink too,” Wil decided.

Andy let out a snorting chuckle, “Oh, trust me everyone in this city would love to see that.”

The group started to plan a bit so that Silver and Jackie knew what they were doing, and during that time, Janus leaned over to Roman.

“This means nothing, I’d rather Remus was here,” Janus told Roman.

“Well I'd rather Patton was here,” Roman agreed, emotions still running high from the mess with the doppelgängers.

“Good,” Janus spat.

“Good,” Roman glared at him.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Accessibility Translations

1. Fuck

2. for

3. I’m alright

4. to

5. of

6. fucking

7. asshole

8. What the fuck is wrong with you?”

9. I meant Marvin, you crazy fucker, are you trying to kill my kid?

10. your

11. killing

12. You taking the boys to a whorehouse isn’t a good choice, you nutter

13. making

14. And

15. you

[chasseurdeloup-retired]

Steady As She Goes || Bea and Kaden

TIMING: After Cabin in the Woods and before Kaden got shot LOCATION: The woods PARTIES: @beatrice-blaze and @chasseurdeloup SUMMARY: Kaden tries to teach Bea how to use a gun. It goes as well as all his other shooting lessons have gone.

Without her fire magic, Bea felt vulnerable. The weapons that Felix had given her helped ease some of the anxiety she had struggled with. While he was teaching her to use them, Bea was sure it couldn’t hurt to ask other people for help as well. Kaden had led her into the woods and Bea had to force down the anxiety building in her. She had once claimed these woods as a place of sanctuary and now she looked over her shoulders for monsters, human and otherwise. As she shook the tension out of her shoulders, she looked over to Kaden,“So where do we start?”

Kaden never had trouble picking through the woods to find the clearing in the woods by the outskirts. It was a near perfect spot for training, but it was becoming more and more loaded. Blanche, Mina, and now Bea. There was no way this was going to go smoothly and easily. At least this time he expected it to go poorly. He was ready to stop training and go get some food at any minute. But Bea asked him for help and as sure as he was that this would go south or derail, he was going to help her as best as he could. “Well first off, I think we start with a pistol. You know how to load it? All that? If not, that’s where we start.” Every part of him wanted to ask how she was, talk about… everything, but that’s not what she came here for. He could tap into hunter mode for her if that’s what she needed. It wouldn’t be like Blanche.

There was only so much in the world that Bea could control. For years she had clung to this false sense of control she had over people and the world. She had thought that nothing bad would happen if she was the one pulling the strings. And yet she had still died. Bea still struggled with that control, she still wanted it so badly. This was one of her ways to control things around her. She could control what she was able to do and had to hope that everything else worked out in her favor. “Felix showed me when he gave me my gun, yeah. I figured coming to you would be a good idea too.” Why not go to all the people she knew to help her when it came to protecting herself. “I haven’t gotten much practice though. Not with everything that’s been happening the last few months, Felix and I have been so busy.”

His brow raised when he heard that she already had her own gun. Kaden didn’t know a whole lot about Felix but he supposed it wasn’t too hard to imagine the man knew where to acquire a gun and had no qualms handing one to Bea. He had helped them blow up a restaurant and had easy enough access to supernatural (and likely non supernatural) drugs, made sense he was comfortable enough with firearms. “Good, guess we can skip those basics, then.” He led her over to the line up of bottles and got her set up to start. “Yeah, makes sense. Look, at least I know this can’t go as badly as when I was out here with Blanche. Right after--” The words caught in his throat. He’d almost forgotten why he crumbled the last time he had been out here teaching someone to shoot. It was almost easy to do so when part of the reason had seemingly been erased and was standing right next to him.

“Don’t make that face,” Bea laughed. “He gave me a knife too. It makes me feel safer when I’m out without him, my sisters, or you.” She couldn’t spend her whole life attached at the hip to one of them. She was far too independent for that and she refused to be a burden to her loved ones like that. Bea watched Kaden with rapt attention as he helped her set up. She had been taught some things, yes, but she wasn’t comfortable with a gun in her hand yet. She was sure that would come with time and practice. As he cut himself off, she turned to look at him,“Right after what?” Her chest tightened as she wondered if she had been the reason that things had gone poorly last time. It worsened when she thought that maybe he hadn’t been telling her things because he didn’t think she could handle them anymore.

“Sorry, I’m used to you requesting my weapons at the door and shit. This is new.” Kaden didn’t know if that meant it was worse. Hell, he was different than he was when they first met, there was no denying that. And he didn’t fucking know if that mad him better or worse yet. Guess they’d find out together. Kaden was prepared to get lost in training, just sink back into his old rhythm, no emotions, just everything he knew black and white. That was until she pressed him. He froze and clenched his jaw, trying to keep back the lump forming in his throat already. Maybe this clearing was bad luck. “You know,” he said. He didn’t want to say it aloud. But no, he had to. Because it wasn’t just her death, that wasn’t the only weight that had crushed him those few weeks and it came rushing back like a tidal wave. He let out a breath and elaborated. “Right after I had to banish my mother’s spirit. And then you died. And then Celeste died.” The words hung in the air a moment, nothing but silence around them. Not even the birds seemed to cut the quiet. “Come on. We came here to shoot things.” He refused to break down here a second time.

“I might still request that if you annoy me,” Bea replied with a smirk. She knew for a fact she wouldn’t. No, now weapons weren’t just annoyances that she wanted to avoid, they were security and a way to feel safe. She didn’t look at a blade with contempt any longer, now, as long as it was held by a trusted friend, she saw an out. She had come unprepared to that fight with the Hunter and if she had had a gun on her rather than relying on her magic solely she might have survived. She reached out to him, a hand softly placed on his arm. She hadn’t touched him so freely in months. It had felt unnatural to her then, but she had slowly started to come back into herself. “Right after you lost everyone,” She summarized after a moment. “Thank you for coming back here then.” She didn’t want to consider how much it took out of him to be here after all of that. She nodded, “Right, we’re here to shoot.” She made sure that everything was out of the way before going for her first shot. As the ring of the gun rolled through that clearing, Bea couldn’t help but think over Kaden’s words again. She had never considered owning a gun before. She had thought of them as loud, inelegant things. Now she clung to one as a lifeline. Blinking rapidly, Bea tried to ignore the burn in her eyes. She hadn’t come here to mourn over parts of herself she had lost.

“Sure. I think you just want to be the only one with a knife at dinner.” Kaden wasn’t sure the joke landed. Dinners at the Vural’s hadn’t happened since, well, since any of it. It made sense. But it was a clear line between before and after. That line that was always drawn between memories. Before and after loss. It was like the color was different in his mind every time. The memories before with Bea had been warm tinted, nothing but warmth. Things had changed. He thought he was just imagining it, simply remembering some moment until he noticed that her hand was actually on his shoulder. He felt tears pricking the corners of his eyes already. It was still strange to remember all the grief of when she was dead when she was standing there in front of him. Honestly, it made him feel  a little silly, like he’d wasted time being upset when-- “It’s the best place I’ve found to shoot,” he replied simply, swallowing it all back, the lump in his throat, any threat of tears, any uncomfortable emotion. Deep inhale, slow exhale as he watched her set up. Funny, she should be the one trying to clear her head, she was the one shooting. She squared up, took a decent shot. “Not bad. You need to watch your stance, though,” he said. All he could think of was his mother, her words and how she would shut down and mask any feeling when it came time to perfect hunting skills. And she did in fact expect perfection or something close to it. Did he really want to be that? He tried to roll his shoulders back, push it away. Then he saw Bea. Properly. “You alright? We can stop at any time.”

“Can you blame me for that?” Bea asked with a grin. She hadn’t had anyone over for dinner in months and at the mention of it, she missed it. She missed making their favorite foods and forcing them to take home leftovers so they didn’t have to cook the next day. “I should have people over for dinner soon,” She said quietly, half to herself. It would be nice to have people in the house again. Maybe it would get rid of the cold feeling that had taken over the house. If she was lucky, it would start thawing out the relationships she had too. She had noticed, of course, how people interacted with her now. How they saw her as someone new and didn’t know how to be around her anymore. Kaden had gotten better as they saw each other more, but she had felt it the first time they saw each other after everything. She felt it with so many people now, even those who didn’t know. She lowered the pistol, looking at the bottles she shot at. “I never wanted to shoot a gun before,” She said softly. “Now I own one and I didn’t even think about it until now.”

“You should,” Kaden replied. It rang a little hollow. The last time he’d been in her house was when Nell told him. He hadn’t believed it. Putain. He thought he was over it. He should be over it. She was back. It was fine. So why did the thought of stepping back into the Vural house, seeing her kitchen, hit him like a ton of bricks? He sniffed and brushed off his cheek. He knew it wasn’t raining, but he was going to pretend that was the reason for the drop there. “It’d be good to, uh, you know, reset or something. Replace all the negative moments that happened when you were gone.” He knew she’d been a ghost but he had no idea how much she had really been around, how much she had really seen. This was a bad idea. This whole endeavor. Everything was too emotionally charged. He should have known better. “Hey. It’s alright.” Kaden reached out and touched her shoulder, hoping to steady them both, ground them. “Things change.”

“It’s hard to know how to start with that. Blanche hasn’t seen me in months, we used to be close you know? Lots of people have these memories of mourning me and I don’t know how to stop that. I don’t know how to fix it anymore.” Hadn’t she always been able to find a way to fix things? Bea was stuck, not knowing where to begin when it came to reintroducing herself to people she loved. There was no handbook for dealing with the trauma of being dead for weeks, of mourning yourself. There was no road map for her friends and family to know how to deal with her being back. So instead of anything being better, they were all stuck stagnant hoping that one day things will feel better on its own. They all ignore the implication that these things took work and contact, unwilling to be the first to reach out and force something that was once natural.

It took cool, measured movements for Bea to place everything down safely. She wasn’t going to sacrifice gun safety just because she was feeling a little bit bluer than she anticipated. She had thought that this would make her feel powerful, make her feel better than she had walked in with. Yet, here she was, hands shaking as she realized just how charged the air had become after a single shot. She looked toward Kaden, one of the only people who knew and still tried to make this work. “Do they usually change this much? I know I’m like a different person. I know everyone’s been thinking it. I’m a stranger to everyone now,” Her lips pressed, eyes filling up again as she blinked angrily. “I used to be warm and alive.” How one sentence, thought but rarely spoken aloud, could make Bea feel like the world was pressing down on her shoulders was a mystery. She sniffed, trying to ignore the ache of her chest. “I thought I was getting better,” She whispered, sorrow pouring over each word as she looked down at her hands. She had been smiling more, laughing more, and a single shot brushed it away. It nearly brought her to her knees.

“She hasn’t?” Kaden couldn’t imagine. The first thing he wanted to do when he heard about Bea coming back was see her. Then again, he hadn’t seen her since before she died. And wasn’t there for the hard part. Of any of it. Maybe it did make some sense that Blanche needed time. “You can’t stop it, Bea. And it won’t--” The mourning had happened and it was confusing to have to step back, forget it. It couldn’t be erased. Standing where he had collapsed so soon after she-- It couldn’t be erased from his mind nor the pain scrubbed from his heart. Her sisters had to have felt it all, stronger and deeper. Still, the mourning hadn’t hit him as hard as one word, one singular word she’d said. The same stupid word he kept saying, kept promising. “Fix.” How did she fix this? “You don’t need to fix it, Bea. Sometimes you can’t--” Kaden wasn’t sure what pain was pooling up from the depths, which stupid shit was punching him in the gut. He told Regan he’d help fix her. He told Nadia he’d help fix her. Could he lie to Bea, too?

“I don’t know. Most times I lose people and they don’t come back.” It was meant to be a joke, but the tears burned his eyes almost instantly. He blinked them away as best he could. He shook his head and met her eyes. “I don’t give a shit if you’re the exact same person, Bea, I don’t. You’re here. You’re still here and, and--” Kaden reached out to take her hand, turning it over in his. It was shaking, he could feel it, but he also held his hand to her wrist and pressed against her pulse. “You feel that? You’re alive. You’re alive.” Something he could still barely believe. He could feel more stupid tears tumbling down his cheeks and he wished he could just look at her and see his friend and not have to be reminded of all the fucking trauma that they’d all gone through. “You’re not a stranger, Bea. You’re not. You-- you were there for me every time I asked. Sometimes when I fucking didn’t. So maybe now it doesn't show up the same.” Like her magic, it was changed, there was no denying it. “But I haven’t doubted that fact once. Not once. Tell me if I’m wrong. Fucking tell me if you don’t have my back anymore. But I have yours. I’m not walking away because shit’s a little different.”

“I can’t blame her for not wanting to see me. I asked way too much of her with everything. I promised to never be one of those people who put that much pressure on her, but I ended up breaking that promise.” Bea got flashbacks every once in a while of Blanche asking her not to do something as a ghost and Bea ignoring her. She knew that Blanche was under so much stress already and she had still pulled her into the mess. So many people had disappointed Blanche and Bea had never wanted to add her name to that list, but she had. She took in a staggering breath, “I have always been able to fix my mistakes. I’ve been able to fix how people look at me, how they see me, but I don’t know how to anymore and I’ve always had to.” How many times had her mother drilled it into her head that she had to be perfect to everyone? Bea’s entire life had been built upon always fixing the mistakes that made her appear weak or flawed. Now for months she had been that to everyone around her. It was easy to forget sometimes, easy to slip into this person that didn’t care. She couldn’t decide who she was anymore, between those people. Caring what they thought had shaped her entire life, but letting go of that and being someone that could be feared instead of loved had become something of an armor. There were days where it felt like there were two Beas, both trying to control her body and she didn’t know what to do or even who she was.

According to the Council, she never should have come back. To them, she should have moved on and never brought people into her plan. She didn’t know if that would have been easier for everyone, but there was no going back. She couldn’t fix the fracture she had created in her family. Her eyes squeezed shut as he held her wrist, tears slipping from between tightly held lids. She could feel it. She could feel her heart. She could feel his fingers pressed against her skin. “I’m alive. I can feel it.” She was alive, so why didn't she feel like it. Why did she feel so strange? This had gotten better in last month, but still there were some days that Bea felt as though she could fade away if no one was looking. She leaned her head forward as sobs started to shake her. “I have your back,” She told him, her voice choked. “I have everyone’s backs. I do.” She would do anything for the people she loved. She had always been willing to do anything for them. It was perhaps the only thing she had in common with the woman she was in May.

The words hit him like another gut punch, of a different variety this time. Kaden couldn’t argue with her. But he also couldn’t say he didn’t put too much on Blanche either. Hell the last time he was here, he’d put way too much on her. All his grief had come spilling out and she was left to pick up the pieces. “Maybe so but I doubt she’d ever take it back.” Kaden would have to remember just how much of a break Blanche needed, maybe force her to take it. For now, he had his friend in front of him, desperately hoping for a way to fix things, a feeling he knew all too well. But he didn’t have a clue where to start. He tried to let the words sink in. “Had to,” that’s what she’d said. All he could remember was her obsessing over what to wear to the Silver Bullet, how concerned she was about how people saw her, even just to go visit a hunter bar. “You don’t have to be perfect, Bea. You can make mistakes and let the cards fall.”

Kaden had every intention of dropping his hand from her wrist, but it lingered. Feeling her heartbeat beneath his fingers, pulsing through her skin, it was something so simple, but god it was unreal right then. He knew before it that she was alive and back, sure, he knew, Something so simple as a pulse pulled things into perspective. Reminded him that it wasn’t a dream. “Good. That’s good. You-- you believe it, right?” He gave her hand a squeeze before letting his own fall away. “You know if you fall, I’m going to be there as best as I can. I don’t know much, but I know that. Your sisters will be there, too. It doesn’t matter if you’re perfect as long as you’re here. It’s enough, Bea. You’re enough.” Kaden was damn sure she didn’t need to hear it from him of all people, if at all, but here he was in the middle of the woods telling her anyway like some big idiot. He’d be fucking lying if he said he didn’t wish he could go back to having the Bea who had never died, had never had to go through all that, come back from the dead, have his friend back. The one who was able to pull him off the edge, force him to see the bigger picture. But he didn’t honestly believe there was nothing left of her, nothing of her that wasn’t his friend before. If he was the one to have pull her off the edge for once, so be it.

Kaden was right and Bea knew it, no matter what had happened she was sure that Blanche wouldn’t take it back. The medium was the type of person who gave far too much of herself to the people around her. Blanche was far too good for a person who struggled like she did. Bea hated that she had put anymore weight onto Blanche’s shoulders. Her mouth tightened, flattening into a line. She had always needed to be perfect. Even as a child she had woken up hours before school just to perfect the way her hair fell, by twelve she had been using makeup. There had been little room for anything less than perfect. She had obsessed over it, just to make her mother happy. And even though she had been as perfect as she could be, there was nothing that stopped the way her life had gone. She had still died and she was still kicked out of her coven, even though she had tried to seem perfect. “I don’t just let things fall, Kaden. I’m meant to be the one who doesn’t make mistakes. I should be the one fixing things for my sisters, not the other way around.” She had never been the person who needed this much help and she could barely understand that she was the person she was. “My mistakes ruined my sisters’ lives. We were excommunicated because of the ritual.”

She nodded. She did believe she was alive, but she didn’t know how long that would last. She didn’t know what next would set her off or if anyone would be there to help ground her. As much as she tried to do it herself, without someone else it was so difficult to remind herself that she wasn’t going to fade away. But even when she knew that she wasn’t going to fade away, she felt like an imposter. Trying to fill your own shoes was much harder than anyone had ever said. Being enough didn’t sit right with her, not when she wanted to be more, but her options were limited, especially with how she was now. A comparison struck her and a watery, half-hearted laugh broke out, “I’m having a fucking mid life crisis right now, aren’t I?” The humor of the thought warmed her chest slightly and slowed her tears, but didn’t rid the field of the melancholy feel. She cast her eyes to the sky, humming softly in her throat. “There are these parts of myself that are broken apart and I don’t know how to bring them back together. I don’t know where the whole me is and for now all I have are these fragments of what I am.”

“Says fucking who? Who told you you can’t make mistakes? Fuck them. They don’t--” The words excommunicated cut through his tirade like a knife, the word hanging in the air, almost ringing through the silence of the forest surrounding them. Kaden had lost his family through unfortunate circumstances. They didn’t choose to leave him, not really. He knew that hunters stuck together through thick and thin, short lived as their lives may be. He couldn’t imagine choosing to cut ties, purposely giving up on someone for their choices, choices that seemed like the sole choice available. “You didn’t ruin their lives,” was all he could mumble. “I saw them when you were gone, Bea. They didn’t-- Coming back didn’t ruin their lives.” He wasn’t sure what it did ruin fully yet, it definitely disrupted things, but ruin? It was the wrong word, he felt that deep in his core. It was the wrong word. Bea being alive couldn’t ruin anything. “I’m sorry.” She didn't deserve this, not from family. None of the sisters did. They needed support, not abandonment.

Watching his friend break down, Kaden felt picks sting at the corner of his eyes. Shit like this he always wished he could be more helpful, say the right things, solve problems. He was never sure he quite managed. “I think technically speaking it’s a post-life crisis,” he added with a half hearted smile, glad for the momentary respite from the heaviness. Kaden reached out and gripped her shoulder, hoping to steady both of them a little more. He could feel the warmth of her skin, her pulse pumping through, much faster than Regan’s did now. Funny how despite dying, she felt more alive than his own girlfriend. And here she was questioning that fact. “I don’t think I’m the one to tell you how to solve all that,” he said with a sigh. Her words sounded all too familiar. “Hunting used to make sense. It’s, I mean everything is confusing now. And I feel like who I want to be isn’t who I was. Or am. Or wanted to be before or--” He shook his head, trying to find what he was even saying anymore. “My point is I’m fucking lost, too. I think-- I think that’s okay. Pick the pieces you like. Leave the rest.” He knew it was easier said than done, but it sure sounded nice.

Silence had become an unfortunate companion of Bea’s. As a ghost it had been the only thing that kept her company and now it stretched between her and the people she loved. There wasn’t much anyone could say when Bea talked about how far her life had crumbled. As Kaden’s silence sat between them, her heart began to ache for him. He was trying so hard to make her feel better about something that only she could fix. Laying her hand on his arm, she squeezed softly, knowing that it would do little to rid the sorrow she was sure he was feeling for her. She couldn’t agree that she didn’t ruin her sisters’ lives, but she decided not to argue now. Not when the energy she had left in her was waning. “They basically called me a monster at the trial and my mom let them.” Her mouth was dry,“She used to call me her star and she let go of me so easily. She wasn’t always good to my sisters, but she had always been good to me.”

It took her a moment, but Bea let out a loud, watery laugh. “Post-life crisis. Holy Hell, I’m having a post-life crisis,” She got out between her laughter. As heavy as she felt now, at least she knew that she wasn’t the only person who wasn’t sure what to do with their lives now. The unending loneliness she had felt when she was dead, and had carried on as she finally lived again, had slowly begun to peel away. “Well, at least we have good company for this. Good to know that neither of us are sure who we are anymore,” She tried to say it lightly, but the crack in her voice betrayed how hard that was to say. Leave the rest. She wasn’t sure she could do that, she hadn’t ever been good at just leaving things be. It felt impossible to admit that things would never be the same again, but maybe one day she would be able to. She had conquered the impossible before.

“I’m so sorry, Bea.” As she gave his arm a small squeeze, Kaden wished with everything he had that he wasn’t complete shit at comforting people. All he could manage was to place his own hand on top of hers and squeeze it back. He couldn’t think of his friend as a monster, not ever. The thought that her mother could even imply it was, it was unfathomable. For every piece of his parents that he had begun to pick at in his mind, he never once doubted that they loved him. Disappointment, that he could predict form them, even disowning him. But he felt deep in his bones they’d try to bring him back into the fold before abandoning him. Given the choice. “None of you deserve that. Not after--” Not after the harrows they went through. Her mother wasn’t even there to see it, to feel the pain and the loss. Maybe it was better she didn’t. He didn’t know. He supposed it didn’t matter much now how well or how little he knew her mother, she wasn’t going to be a huge part of their lives much anymore, was she? “Just because she-- I’m not letting go that easily, got it? I don’t have--” He couldn’t say it. He didn’t want to feel the sting of the words piercing through him, saying aloud that he didn’t really have any family left. And it felt almost cruel to bring up in comparison. But still, all the dinners at Bea’s house, it felt like so long ago now but some part of Bea felt like family. He couldn’t explain it. It didn’t matter if he could put it into words, though. He could feel it. “You’re just stuck with me, alright. You made the mistake of making me give a shit. No getting rid of me now.” One more squeeze before he let his hand drop.

“You sure are,” he said, laughing with her, drinking in the short lived moment of relief from the heaviness of the rest of their exchange. He knew damn well that if a younger version of himself saw who he was now, he’d be confused and shocked. No doubt it would be worse for her. “Guess so,” he said, exhaling, hoping it would mask the small pricks of terror in his voice at the thought of changing so much. “You think I can blame this on you?” he said, nudging her with his elbow. “I mean, you had me real confused in the beginning, thinking you were a werewolf. I don’t know, maybe this whole change shit is your fault. Ever think of that?” He played but honestly? She was part of it. Not as directly as some, but having people that he cared about it-- well it was different than his life had been before. He let out another deep sigh and rubbed the back of his neck. “What do you say we try this again another day and just go to Al’s or something? Blanche swears the milkshakes help. I think she just likes tormenting me.”

When thinking of her parents, Bea was getting used to disappointment staining the edges of good memories. If she had known that her life would lead up to this, she wasn’t sure she would have tried so hard to be perfect for her mother. She watched as Kaden tried to collect his thoughts and say something to her, sympathy and guilt mixing in her stomach. His parents were gone and she was sure it was hard for him to understand what was happening to her and her sisters. She let out a soft, surprised laugh,“I’m not sorry I forced you to be my friend.” Kaden and her, in some ways, became friends at the perfect time. They needed each other, to understand the path they walked and to call out the bullshit they tried. She was lucky he decided to stick around after everything. “You know, I’ll take the blame,” She answered, her voice finally losing it’s watery edge. She had certainly been blamed for worse things. The change he was going through wasn’t a bad one, but she understood how absolutely terrifying it was to feel yourself morph into something you never imagined. “Milkshakes do help, Blanche is right. Leah and I get milkshakes all the time.” She paused for a moment, a sad smile playing over her face once again,“Thanks, Kaden, for being here.” She had lost parts of her family, but she had so many people who never gave up on her. There was power in picking her own family, she just had to get used to it.

[ultramaga]

Thoughts on Baldur’s Gate 3

The romantic interests so far are awful. While I think the two women in the test version are not repugnant physically, I certainly cannot say they are beautiful as corresponding characters in other games are.

If I saw her in real in life, I would think ... “meh”.

Vastly inferior technology but Morrigan’s sexy outfit works for the character.

Viconia, in BG2, looked gorgeous. In fact, the downgrade in this sequel is staggering. If you look at the fan art for those two characters, it is prodigious, and often shockingly erotic. You see a lot of women cosplayed as Morrigan too.

Viconia is a bit trickier as you have to be careful that SJWs don’t crucify you for ‘blackface’. The weird thing is, they decided that Giths can be love interests now?

She’s ok I guess? Sort of ugly-cute? It’s so bizarre to compare her to the depiction that Gith had originally.

Gith were hideous.

Which was fine. There are plenty of pretty races. Having them as skeletal serial killers with unexplained goop oozing from elbows worked pretty well.

Githzerai weren’t as nasty and looked more human - probably because they didn’t mess with the same demonic forces.

For some weird reason, Githyanki were changed by Wizards of the Coast to make them somewhat more appealing.

Don’t ask me why. I mean, I can find some nonhuman women appealing - elves are basically humans+

Galadriel is a sexy bitch an’ no mistake. Even dwarves got all silly around her.

Even evil, she was totally bodacious. From the baldur’s gate series:

Aerie was gorgeous, yet a little alien. Ok, so that’s looks. What about the other factors? Well, Morrigan was a total bitch, and Viconia was evil, so why do the female love interests in bg3 repulse me? They are both just unpleasant. Viconia was complicated, and would explain why she did what she did, and didn’t just assume you would lick her boots. I haven’t played a female character, but I can say the BG3 love interests treat males just like feminists do - contempt and narcissism seem to be the only emotions. Maybe they are just like that with everyone. But Morrigan had a sense of humour, and Viconia was weirdly innocent. Both acted the way she did because everyone she had ever known acted that way, and when Viconia tried behaving better, she still copped it from the other races, who didn’t make an effort to reform her, but just wanted to murder her on the spot. Also, Morrigan had an unfair advantage in that the voice actor already had an audience who associated her with sexual attractiveness.

Pretty sexy voice in any case imo. With Piper in Fallout 4, I couldn’t say the looks were all that great, and unless you mod her, she isn’t wearing a sexy outfit, but the VA made sure that I and many others found her appealing.

And I’ve seen cosplay of hers that is gorgeous...

But the voice from the computer game is what sealed the deal for me, plus the personality. Piper isn’t just a “good person”, she tries to do good but she has flaws, she’s bubbly but gets depressed, she comes out with the odd sexual comment but then acts rather chaste. She’s interesting as a person, which makes her sexy.

She puts her foot in her mouth sometimes. She is social, but socially awkward. Pushy and shy. She’s three dimensional, ironically.

I don’t get that impression from the BG3 lot. Lae'zel doesn’t want to talk to you, and just wants to kill everyone else she meets except for the Githyanki, who just want to kill her - oh, spoilers, that’s the twist. Her Chaotic Evil people would kill her rather than cure her, because it is easier. Who could have seen that coming? I wonder. It is a mystery. Actually, there’s no way she wouldn’t have expected her own people to regard her as expendable because that is how she treats EVERYONE ELSE. And the other love interest?

Yup, sneering contempt is her usual expression. She’s probably heard about a male suicide prevention conference, and is on her way to sabotage it. I just think that they received a directive to make these characters unappealing, because ... male gaze ... misogyny ... rape culture! Here’s a list of the best selling computer games.If you ever see a gamer stereotype in media showing gamers as only interested in big titty girlies, have a look at how far down the list the titty titles are. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_best-selling_video_games I guess Skyrim sort of counts, because if you know how, you can mod it to be sexy, but out of the box, it isn’t really.

So Skyrim sort of qualifies, in that there is a niche of modders who are really dedicated to making it work for romance/sex. Hmm. I haven’t played “The Witcher” but apparently the community is really ... dedicated.

I am told the unmodded game has a bit of sexiness to it, but i haven’t watched or played. Looking at PC games - The Sims technically has romance although I couldn’t say the characters matter imo. Again, modders put a lot of sex into it. Starcraft - one of the most popular games - had a weird romance with a character that was transformed into a monster.

The game devs really understood how to play with the line of repulsion vs attraction. Kerrigan can be quite flirty.

Some days she just wants a hug. Some days, a planetary bombardment of her enemies. She’s complicated. “ After the battle, Raynor found himself in Joeyray's Bar on Mar Sara, reminiscing on the past. At this point, he saw (or believed he saw) Kerrigan return, appearing as she had prior to her infestation by the zerg. Whether real or not, Kerrigan asked him whether he was ready to "get out of here," to which Raynor responded positively, he exited the bar and was never seen again.[174] “

Romance matters, Romance is a primal human drive. Computer games don’t have to be romantic, but if they are going to try, I hope they do a better job than what I have seen thus far of BG3, because it really does give the impression of Social Justice misandry instead.

[miss-choco-chips]

Put a ring on it

I’m not sure what this is, everyone. Had it on my docs for a while, got bored during work and thought ‘what if I just post this?’, and here we are. Basically the Core Four being loving and caring (and spiteful).

Shout out to @animemangasoul who pumped me up about this and @the-quiet-carrotcake and @iphoenixrising for letting me cry to them the Titans loving Tim.

Can be read as either ship or friendship

------.------

When shit went down, Wally and Roy made sure they were nowhere near the planet. A nice little interplanetary fuckery called for anyone free, and both of them had magically clean schedules, so off they went, praying to every god they knew about (and, with how many holy disasters they had faced between them, there were a lot) to be back after the worst of the mess had blown over.

Even if it meant missing the undoubtedly hilarious face Batman would make when he found out. Not even the chance of witnessing that was worth staying and waiting with bated breath until someone pointed out that, in the end, it was both their faults.

-So let me get this straight.

-Difficult for me, but go on.

Wally rolled his eyes, chucking a pillow at his little dude, wondering how Nightwing could do this with not one, not two, but three badly adjusted little brothers (and that without counting the girls, though, to be honest, they already had Babs). Truly, a hero of the ages. Arsenal just cackled from his place in front of the coffee table, where he was keeping them company and cleaning his equipment.

-I’m serious. I’ve never seen you this mad without a bad guy to blame for it.

-Well…

-As furious as you are at them, Bart, they are still the good guys.

-Debatable.

Wally threw another pillow, and Bart, arms crossed and all but vibrating on the couch, didn’t even bother on dodging. Just moved his particles quick enough that the thing went straight through him. 

Arsenal raised an eyebrow at them- It’s scary when you do that. Like a freaking ghost.

-It’s scary that Tim’s whole family can be this level of neglectful, but you don’t see me bitching at them.

-Only because you know they’ll give you your ass back to you in a silver platter after they are done whooping it -interjected the older speedster, snack bag on his lap, a few more by the ground at his feet, sitting as close to Bart as the whole ‘don’t touch, I bite’ aura he had around him would allow.

-Kinky.

This time, Wally’s pillow was aimed at the archer. Roy just dodged without looking, still cross legged on the other side of the little table facing the couch.

-Real talk now, it’s not like they are jerks on purpose. We all know the Bats are on a whole new level of ‘always busy’, it’s to be expected they wouldn’t have time for social niceties.

Wally winced, scooting a little further away from Bart when he looked up to glare at Roy. That wasn’t a nice look. That was a ‘I can take you to someplace no one would hear you scream in less than ten seconds’ look.

-My seventeen year old best friend managed to finish high school after having to take a year off to go look for his missing mentor, going through several different mourning processes and dodging a frankly creepy cradle robber of a ninja terrorist, all while kicking ass and taking names, taking care of a huge as hell company, and keeping up the intel guy work for the rest of his shitty family. And he still graduated early. The least they could do after the fuckery he was put through by their collective stupidity would be go as moral support, but no. No, other things are more important than such a big milestone on his life. Fuckers.

Wound down after the rant, Bart dropped back on the couch, shrinking in place, oozing contempt from every pore.

Roy raised his eyes to share a look with Wally. Even if the bro code meant they were contractually obligated to defend their respective best friends, there was undeniable truth to Bart’s statement. Jason had gone on killing sprees for far less than Tim’s situation, and God knows Dick would have showed a big  middle finger at his mentor and go off world with the Titans as a protest at the slightest fight. All in all, Red Robin was taking it like a champ.

-Jason’s busy with the Torinelli drug cartel thingie -tried Roy nonetheless, loyal as one could be. 

Wally nodded- And Dick had already promised Damian to go on a camping-training trip that weekend...

-Great. So criminals that aren’t going anywhere and the ‘favorite’ demon child are more important than my best friend’s graduation, which isn’t even a long thing, just a couple hours and a few photos. Awesome. Do you happen to know Batman’s excuse? I mean, I’m sure is equally as shitty as his sons’ excuses, but, you know. Variety and stuff.

Wally sighed, because yeah, point. Were it Bart’s graduation, nothing short of the end of the world would have kept him from going, but, again, he only had one little dude to worry about. Dick’s house was full.

-You’ll be there -tried Roy, dropping his arrow back on the table and resting his crossed arms next to it, leaning forward to look straight at Bart-, you and the rest of the brats, right? Supes and Diana’s babies. You guys may not be related like that, but that’s not necessary for you to be family.

Like the Teen Titans were, went unsaid- the older heroes exchanged a glance, reminiscent of their days fighting side by side under Dick’s unwavering leadership. No matter where they were now, that’s where they both came from.

-Yeah -accepted Bart, but the frown hadn’t left his face-. It’s just. His parents are dead, his ‘foster’ bat-family are dicks. He has us, yeah, but… I wished he could have his family there, you know. Like, if I could adopt him, I would, just so he can have that.

Wally dropped the empty snack bag onto the ground and took a new one, tipping it in Bart’s direction as a peace offering- I mean, it’s still a month away, maybe one of them would clear his schedule and go? Probably not all of them, but anything’s better than nothing, right?

Bart harrumphed, hunching even lower in the couch, pout still present.

-If anything else fails -joked Roy, going back to cleaning his stuff-, I hear Kara’s single right now, and Tim’s an emancipated minor. Get them to marry each other, and then your Super friend is technically his brother- or something like that. Political families still counts.

Bart went still for a second, and if Wally were less invested in his snack and more on the thoughtful expression on his face, he might have known ahead of time that his next words were a bad, bad idea.

-And if she’s not on board, you could always ask someone else on your team. Team as family and all that shit, Tim would literally be marrying into the fam. Want some chips?

But Bart was already gone.

-Huh? -blinked Roy- Where'd he run to?

-...

-...You don't think he…

-What? No. No, of course not, they aren't so dumb...

For a horrible second, Roy and Wally crossed eyes again, both remembering the stupid shit they got up to when they were seventeen, and replayed the conversation. Their jokes, that anyone with half a brain would take as that, as silliness. Then came the thought that being stupid was almost a requirement for being a Titan. 

With the kind of synchronicity one could only have after fighting side by side for years, they both jumped to their feet at the same time.

-I’ll hit Kori up, maybe she has some alien fuckery to deal with and we can tag along.

-Imma call Supes and let him know we’ll be off planet for a while. Shit, Dick’s gonna flip. He was the big B for a while, he knows stuff. Painful stuff.

-Dude, he at least doesn’t kill. Jay has guns, and it’s his favorite brother we’re talking about.

A shiver went through them when Batman’s reaction came to mind.

-If Kori’s not dealing with something, I’ll ask her to start shit up somewhere far, far away to give us an excuse to leave either way. She’s a goddess like that, she’ll help.

-Good thinking. I’ll start packing.

---.----

The secret meeting was held at one of Tim’s safe houses, because it had enough lead on the walls there was no risk of Superman overhearing them. Not that the owner of the place was aware of it; no one was, besides Cassie, Kon and Bart themselves. Keeping it hush hush was vital for the success of the mission.

-All on board then?

Kon’s smile could light up a town- Hell yeah dude. I’ll take care of getting Tim time off from work. Tam knows me and I’m fairly sure she doesn’t hate me as strongly as she does the bats. Fair warning though, she might ask to come with.

-She’s cool, so I’m in. We’re gonna need a witness anyway.

Cassie nodded, fierce smirk and challenge in her eyes- This is gonna piss so many people. Hey, do you think if we let Oracle in the know she’ll give us footage of the bats' faces when they find out?

Bart bit his lip- As crash as that would be, I don’t think it’s worth the risk.

Cassie deflated, but then shrugged it off- We’ll ask Tim, then. He’s as good as her with hacking, I’m sure he’ll figure something out.

-If he doesn’t kill us first, you mean.

-Don’t be a coward, Kon. I thought you were in.

-I’m not saying I’m backing down, just that we should put our business in order in case he snaps and murders us in cold blood. I know he has it in him, if pushed the right ways.

She nodded, because point. The almost feral look on her face wasn’t gone, though- Worth it. I'll be in charge of clothes. You reckon there's any chance I can get a dress on him?

-Sure, if you want him to actually break his no kill rule. 

-Fine, but he's wearing white anyway. It goes well with his skin tone.

Bart extended his first for her to bump- Now you're talking. I'll be the extraction man and take him to the place.

Kon crossed his arms, looking conflicted for the first time- We can't go the classic way about it, because a fake name would mean he won't take seriously what we're trying to do, and if we use his real one in a formal document, it'll hit the news before the ink has a chance to dry. And then he'll kill us for sure.

-You're awfully worried about him drawing blood, Blue. What gives?

-He's scared shitless of Cassie and you're too adorable to hurt, but me? I'm the one he's gonna focus his rage on, and you know how he gets when at his limit.

Cassie snorts- He can't live without you, you dork. I think we are all safe. And anyways, the plan is to make him too drunk to walk on a straight line, he wouldn't be able to hurt us.

-You say that -interjected Bart, getting up from where he was crouching above their carefully spread, color coded sheets of plans; Tim would be so proud- but I've seen the dude drop kick someone with a broken leg once. He can fuck shit up no matter the situation.

-True… still, we are doing it, right?

-Oh yeah, for sure, I just wanted everyone aware that it might be our last big bang.

-Then we better make sure it's one hell of an explosion, am I right?

-Hell yeah.

-This is gonna be so crash!

----.----

The entire thing had gone something like this.

On friday, Tam made Tim turn around and head back home the second he showed his face at the office, claiming the bags under his eyes clashed terribly with her new Prada handbag and she’d rather had it than him around. In Foxspeak, it meant ‘go the fuck to sleep or so help me God’. Tim would have fought back just on principle, but Tam had him at a standstill, because the spleen thing could very easily reach Alfred’s ears if he crosses her, and no one (him) wants that. As if to make sure he would obey, she demanded they share the car that would take her to the airport (did she have some meeting out of Gotham? He couldn’t remember) and dropped him at his Perch on her way there.

He wasn’t actually planning on sleep, maybe work some of his cases from home, start patrol early, possibly tracking Jason down to offer his help for the drug cartel thing. Confused by the unexpected way his morning had gone so far, he was woefully underprepared for a flash of red and yellow to whisk him from his living room the second he put his carrier bag on the ground. 

It was only years from using his team as glorified uber drives what kept him from nerve striking Bart on reflex. Knowing whatever he asked would be lost to the background sound of super fast travelling, he merely slumped over the thin shoulder he was thrown over and waited till they reached their destination.

Which… he wasn’t expecting Vegas.

The next few hours were a blur of his team explaining they had planned this gateaway as an early graduation party,  hugs and a few grateful tears on his part, and booze. So much booze. He was trained by Batman, he had a bigger than average resistance to… well, everything, and still, he got so, so wasted. 

Saturday’s hungover was cured with more booze. They hit casino after casino, danced over tables, payed a bar owner to close for the night and let them work their way through his entire supply, went to some neon party at someone’s exceedingly large hotel suite (the guy wasn’t getting his deposit back), his cellphone was thrown on a fountain after Cassie got sick of it going off again and again with Dick’s predetermined ringtone, drank some more, were kicked out of yet another casino... 

At some point Tam appeared (a very drunk Tim had hugged her and spun her around so fast her stilettos went flying and almost blinded someone), and they all went back to the hotel, where  Kon basically manhandled him into a white suit. More booze when Tim started asking questions, followed by a  two hour long stay at some park were Cassie, Bart and Kon took turns holding his hand, and then each others’, with Tam saying something about bonds, and family, and sickness, and health in the background, Kon muttering something in kryptonian and making Tim repeat it, Cassie dropping to one knee and sprouting some Amazonian speech, Bart jumping on his back after his own speech (futuristic laws and all) was done, then more booze, partying and….

Well, everything was a blur, before and after that.

They woke up saturday morning with the worst headache, in a undignified puppy pile back at their suit, minus Tam who apparently had her own room. Kon’s TTK took care of the blinds and Tim blinked awake at the sound (Robin instincts), looked at his sleeping friends and then went back to sleep, head pillowed by Bart’s butt, with Cassie’s knee denting his ribs and Kon’s arm thrown over his neck, completely disregarding the three rings hanging from his shiny new necklace.

That was a problem for sober Tim to solve. 

---.----

Monday morning, Tim went back to the office, Tam by his side, acting like everything was perfectly fine. 

Dick called after lunch asking about his whereabouts that past weekend, claiming he was missed during patrol, but backed down when informed he was actually relaxing with his friends. Bruce didn’t ask, probably had tracked him down the second he couldn’t find him and let him be after realizing he was at Las Vegas.

Everyone that saw them walking down WE’s hallways would have swore a trail of classic music followed them, graceful and elegant.

In Tim’s mind, however, the background sound was the kill bill sirens and blaring red lights.

Tam felt like a queen, coming back after conquering treacherous lands.

Tim felt like Jason may have been onto something when he died.

----.----

When the Big Day (capital letters included) arrived, and Tim got into the stage to accept his diploma (Honor Student, of course), his eyes automatically went to the loud, rowdy teenagers, sitting as close to the front as possible, cheering and smiling.

He was far enough that it could’ve been a trick of the light, but he thought he could see all three of them going misty-eyed. His own eyes watered when he shook the headmaster's hand and posed with his diploma for the cameras (Wayne Heir Graduating would be trending on every magazine by dinnertime), his friends never stopping yelling his name.

When the time came to throw the little hats, he catched by the corner of his eye how Bart held both Cassie’s and Kon’s hands, keeping them from flying in their emotion. If one paid close attention, their feet actually were floating juuust above the ground. They were just so genuinely excited for him, it was… it was amazing.

After as little smalltalk as possible with his classmates, he sneaked away into some hidden spot, away from prying cameras, and waited. Sure enough, his best friends were there barely ten seconds later, and using that same speed, they swept him off his feet. Bart was the first, latching to his front, Kon a close second jumping on his back and hugging his head. Cassie, ever the showoff, threw her hands around the three of them and spun them around as if they weighted nothing to her. That was probably the case.

-You did it, you did it, you did it!!!! Oh my god, this is so crash!!!

-Not that we had any doubt, with that big brain of yours. Making a girl so proud.

-Speak for yourself. Personally, I feared the worst. This is Gotham, after all.

-But nothing happened! And you GRADUATED!

Tim let out a laugh, allowing himself to just feel joy. Letting them see him like that, as payment for being the most awesome friends (family) in existence, he returned the hug, squeezing back as strongly as his non meta arms could.

Then, a voice behind them that he absolutely didn't expect- Congratulations, Master Timothy.

Without letting any of them go, Cassie turned around, so they could all see Alfred Pennyworth, in his Sunday’s best, looking proud and warm, his eyes glazed over with nostalgia when they landed on his young charge. One of the young men he had the honor to watch grow into the amazing person he was today.

Even more surprising, he held a tablet on his arms, screen facing them, with a familiar figure there, white streak and leather but no firearms, probably cautious of possible civilians around.

-Hey, baby bird. Sorry ‘couldn’t be ther’ p’rsonally. Hope ya don’t mind me an’ Alfie crashing like this.

-A-Alfred? Jason? What… I thought you were in Russia!!

The man on the screen scratched the back of his head, visibly uncomfortable but determined.

-Am, actually. But it’s yer big day, babybird. Wouldn’t missit for the world.

Tim’s already watery eyes just overflowed.

-----.----

It took a month for shit to hit the fan. Tim was honestly impressed, because things rarely went his way, and getting more than a few hours to mentally prepare for Disaster? Unheard of. What a shocker.

When it did went down, it was in large part because he was milking the ‘no metas in Gotham’ rule that kept his team at bay and allowed him to go days without sleeping. Kon would say it was karmatic retribution for ignoring their orders to relax and take it easy. He would protest, but really, how to deny the truth; if not for his sleep deprivation, his secret would have gone a lot longer without being unveiled.

 Between hacking into Lexcorp, running the dna samples he took during patrol half an hour ago on the database and finishing his report of the night, he was out of fucks to give. Damian bitching on his ear was the last drop.

-...And your mere presence here is an insult to Grayson's legacy. He founded it, Todd died for it, what did you even contribute to it?

A slow blink. Tim was aware his brain to mouth filter was as good as gone, but tired as he was, he just didn't care.

-Besides providing the brains on this whole fucking operation? Pants, I guess. Common sense. Ninja skills commended by your own grandfather, the king of ninjas. Virtue, too, since Dick is a verified hoe and Jason slept with your/

-C'mon Timmy -cut in Dick, Nightwing suit halfway down his chest, when Damian's face was turning an alarming shade of blue- aren't you a little old to be fighting a kid?

-Who are you calling kid?!

Typical, big bro to the rescue. Tim was too tired to be disappointed that once again Dick was siding with an eleven year old bully that kept harassing Tim. Never mind that he had been minding his business before Damian came to bark at him.

-Boys -chided Bruce and, huh, Tim had said that out loud. Whatever, not like it wasn't true. Fuck them.

-Fuck you -he told… Bruce? Dick? Definitely Damian, too- all.

-Tim! -gasped Dick. Still half naked. Standing right by Damian's side. 

That kid was going to have a very uncomfortable sexual awakening any day now.

-SHUT UP, DRAKE! YOU ARE DISGUSTING!

Wow he really needed to stop talking out loud.

-Tim -And now Bruce was walking towards them, frown firmly in place- you are obviously too tired, if you can't control what comes out of your mouth. Go to sleep.

Tim hissed at him. Dick looked too shocked to answer but Bruce, somewhat used to that reaction of the sleep deprived teen, loomed even more.

-I'm an emancipated adult. I control your company. I live on my own. You're not the boss of me. 

Now even Damian was looking at him open mouthed. Whatever. The computer pinged with his results, just as his phone did with his  'The hubbies and waifus' group chat.

-What's gotten into you, kiddo? -now Dick was worried, throwing an arm around his shoulders. Still half naked, that was an important detail.

Tim shrugged him away.

-Fucking demon spawn coming from nowhere to fuck with me just for the hell of it puts me in a bad mood, I'm weird like that -he deadpaned, replying to the group chat one handed- And the rest of this fucked up team siding with him just because he's a bad word away from a violent psychotic break doesn't help. Fuck off and let me do my shit, and I'll be out of your hair before you know it.

And then, with a sneer, ignoring both Bruce's and Dick's flabbergasted expressions, Damian said what would be Tim's down fall.

-Go to hell, Drake.

A ping made Tim look down at his phone and he replied without thinking, one hand tapping away at the screen- Wait, let me ask my wife.

A beat of silence. One sneer, one grunt, one surprised gasp.

Bruce made a half step towards him- Tim, what/?

A ping.

-She says no. Hang on, let me get you a second opinion, just to be safe.

-Timmy, what do you mean/?

Another one.

-Husband number one says no, too. Husband number two hasn't replied, probably asleep or traveling somewhere, but two already win by majority. It seems it's a ‘no’ on going to hell for me. Bummer, it would have been funny seeing your homeland, brat.

-...

-...

-...

-Aaaaand that’s my cue to interrupt -announced a new voice above them all. Kon, phone at hand, looked down with half amused, half guarded expression-. Someone hasn’t held their end of the deal and slept eight hours, huh, bud?

Tim, ignoring his family that hadn’t yet recovered from the bomb, shrugged- I slept eight hours. This past week. You never said they had to be consecutive hours.

The super just sighed and landed long enough to haul a too tired to resist bird in his arms- I can see you aren’t getting any sleep in Gotham. Let’s go back to the Tower, Cassie wants us to see The Princess Bride with her again.

-Don’t lie to me, you liar.

-Bart wan/

-Look at my face and tell me the truth.

-Okay, I want to see The Princess Bride again -he conceded, taking flight towards the closest exit, sleepy bird cocooned in his arms and TTK- Later, bats!

-...

-...

Finally, Dick snapped back to reality, although the background noise in his head was one would expect in suspense movies right before the assassin jumped a unsuspecting protagonist- ...did he say ‘husbands’? As in, married?

-...

-AS IN MORE THAN ONE?

----.----

[artificialqueens]

Makes Me Wonder (Biadore)- Ortega

a/n: hey hey! happy holidays. i thought i’d write a lil somethin to get me back into the swing of writing since i’ve had a couple months off. it’s an idea i’ve had running around my head for a good good while, at least a year, and now it’s finally down so pls let me know what you think! this is set within the Just the Game We’re In universe but can absolutely be read standalone. title from the song of the same name by Ella Mai which really sums up what this fic is all about (issa vibe). is it too early for a new years’ eve fic? have it anyway, ya filthy animals xo

summary: Adore is a civil service comms girl in a government department who’s meant to be out with her friends. Bianca is the director of communications for the entire country’s government about twenty ranks above her who has no plans for the night other than getting the Prime Minister out of trouble. Tonight, they’re two women sharing a bottle of prosecco in an office high above the city on the last night of the year.

***

It’s eleven at night, and the glass frontage of the offices makes all the darkness flood in. Too high for the reach of the streetlamps, Bianca can see the tiny twinkly lights of the city below in the distance. From the position of the building most of London’s landmarks are hidden from view: the Eye, St Paul’s Cathedral, she knows that the Houses of Parliament are on the other side of the building, not that she’d want to see them. Bianca doesn’t mind. She became disillusioned with London in 2008, when she was presented with her third Prime Minister that didn’t have a clue what he was doing and it slowly dawned on her that maybe all you needed to get ahead in politics was a dick and a Ted Baker suit. Or to be a dick in a Ted Baker suit.

And now here she is running after yet another enormous man-child, pre-emptively doing a mop-up job that she knows she will be tasked with when government returns in the New Year. She knows that a supposedly off-the-record journalist ambushed him at a New Years’ Eve party about an hour ago, asked him something about immigration figures that if he didn’t know sober he’d know even less after six sherries, so Bianca knows that all the papers will be primed to really go in on that subject next time they have a chance. She needs a file, she knows exactly the one- a huge blue lever arch with all the figures needed to sound like the government expert on immigration. It would’ve helped if the actual government expert on immigration was in the country, but the Secretary of State for the Department of Social Affairs and Citizenship (or DoSac, as those in Westminster called it) Sharon Needles is still in Spain with her family and her wife, coincidentally the second government expert on immigration by proxy. Bianca shakes her head derisively as she makes her way to the lightswitch. What the hell is Sharon thinking, swanning off on holiday at a time like this? Alaska’s no better, she knows there’s going to be an election in Scotland in six months’ time and whether they give a shit or not they still have to make the party seem likeable down in London and that’s her job as an MP. Bianca had heard it all from Sharon, “it’s Christmas for Christ’s sake Bianca, I’m not asking for a week in Amsterdam during a reshuffle”, and she likes the fucking woman so she’d let her, but one of her parting comments still stings, “I don’t think you got enough cuddles as a child”. Bianca had wanted to snap at her that her childhood had been fine, it was her adulthood she needed to worry about. She brings her thumb up to her palm and touches the bottom of the fourth finger on her left hand self-consciously. It’s been…God, twelve years now. There can’t still be a dent. Perhaps Bianca is imagining it.

Bianca imagines a lot of things.

Blinking as if to hit refresh on her mind, she flicks the lightswitch and is surprised when she hears a thud and an “owch” come from underneath one of the desks in the department. Narrowing her eyes, she casts a glance over the huge room. There are Willam and Courtney’s desks, both with photos of them at Sharon and Alaska’s wedding on each. Blair’s is chaotically tidy, piles and piles of documents that Bianca knows all have their place. Violet’s and Jinkx’s, both neat and orderly, and then Bianca’s gaze sweeps quickly over Trixie and Katya’s desks to come to rest on a huge pair of hazel eyes blinking at her with wide-eyed surprise. Bianca is disarmed, only able to blink back at her in a way she hopes is intimidating and not intimidated.

“Bianca!” Adore gasps, sounding shocked as she rises from behind her desk. This reveals a black sparkly lace and velvet dress with beads and sequins threaded all over it, so much so that it looks as if Adore is dressed in the night sky. Bianca elects not to speak, scared in case she tries and nothing comes out. She maintains her stare instead. Adore’s red lips, set in an O of surprise, start to move. “Fuck, I’m sorry…I was out in my heels and never had flats with me and I knew I had my work boots under my desk so I just got an uber here and the place was still open and, uh…yeah. Sorry for saying fuck.”

Bianca cracks a small smile as Adore scrunches her straight dark hair in her hands at the scalp, an embarrassed smile on her own face which turns into an awkward bite of her lip. She’s beautiful. Bianca’s always thought so, in the same way she can admire a bouquet of flowers or a sunset or a member of the opposition getting absolutely annihilated in a debate. Adore is beautiful, and that’s just a fact. Nothing more. It doesn’t need to be anything more than that.

Bianca sometimes wonders, though.

“Uh, how come you’re here? Busiest woman in Westminster, you don’t have, like…some sort of New Years’ Eve party with the Prime Minister and all the cabinet and…stuff?” Adore concludes  sheepishly, scuffing her foot across the floor in a way Bianca wishes she didn’t find so charming. For her part, Bianca narrows her eyes.

“For your information, I’m trying to find a file,” she rolls her eyes, walking past the comms girl and trying not to inhale too much of the perfume she’s wearing that smells all too much of candyfloss and jellybeans. It shouldn’t smell as nice as it does.

“Government secrets. You’re gonna kill someone,” Adore nodded, following Bianca over to the filing cabinet, crossing her arms and resting them on the top.

“You, if I’m lucky,” Bianca keeps up pretences and pretends that Adore is too young, too silly and idiotic to be worthy of her time. It’s a dance they’ve been doing since Adore started as an intern for Darienne Lake back in the day, back when the whole thing had some integrity and Bianca genuinely held more contempt for Adore than a smear of shit on her shoe and Adore presumably thought Bianca’s entire personality was modelled on Meryl Streep in The Devil Wears Prada. It’s more than that now though. Bianca knows it, Adore knows it. It’s been more than that for a while. Years, definitely. How many, Bianca doesn’t know. Certainly since Adore had been dating that journalist Laila McQueen who ended up breaking her heart and very nearly brought the department down with all the secrets Adore had inadvertently leaked to her. Since Adore had found love in a new relationship with a girl from the hospital coffee shop, when Adore had been telling the rest of the civil service girls about her and had stopped when she caught sight of Bianca walking in, her excited face faltering only a little. It’s definitely been since Bianca, exhausted and caught off guard by a stressful day that happened to fall on an all too painful date (Bianca touches her ring finger again) allowed her shoulders to slump and a tear to fall from her face in an empty room in the DoSac offices. Adore had entered the glass-fronted office, uttered Bianca’s name gently, crossed the room to face her. She’d wordlessly caught the tear with an impossibly gentle acrylic-nailed finger and it had disappeared from her face as if Adore was a magician. Then she’d left, returning with a cup of hot coffee and a touch of Bianca’s hand and vanishing from the empty office as if she’d never been there.

Bianca wonders if it would’ve been easier if she hadn’t been.

“What’s your plan for tonight, anyway? Westminster’s number one Amy Winehouse tribute act,” Bianca continues, frowning as the lever arch file isn’t in the place it should be. She slams shut one drawer and tries the next one down.

“Number one! Fuck, that’s high praise from you. I’m sure you said Courtney was, like, the number fifteen Kylie Minogue tribute,” Bianca hears the smile in Adore’s voice, internally yells at herself as loud as her mind will allow that this is not, not, not flirting.

“Only because I’m hoping you decide to really commit to the gig and overdose over the holidays and I won’t have to see you eating all the croissants meant for Sharon day after day next year,” Bianca raises her eyebrows at her. Completely nukes any hint of anything playful. But of course Adore bulldozes that idea immediately with a huge snort of laughter and a smile that exposes her beautiful teeth, impossibly white given all the smoking she does.

“Huh. So you do notice me,” she ponders, her voice small and tinged with a dangerous hint of curiosity.

“Hard not to with that hideous vocal fry. Helluhhhh, you’re through to Dosac commmmmms?” Bianca mocks, drawing her voice out and allowing herself a grin at the way Adore’s face lights up in a self-deprecating laugh. Bianca, for a moment, truly believes the whole room gets brighter.  

“I’m out with the girls,” Adore explains on the tail end of a laugh, finally answering her question. “You’re not having much luck with that file.”

“Listen, Wednesday fucking Addams! Enough sass from you, alright? I can still sack you, holidays or no holidays,” Bianca snaps, not meaning a single word of it. She can practically hear the smug smile of disbelief on Adore’s face. She looks up and sure enough, there it is. “What the fuck’s that look for? You look like the cat that got the cream then ate the shit.”

Adore shrugs lightly. “I just don’t think you’d ever sack me, that’s all. You’re too nice.”

Bianca is knocked for six by the compliment. For a moment, forgets how to react. She straightens up and tries the shelves for the file. “You’ve seen me fire about ten people since you started working here, you’re clearly an idiot with a horrendous judge of character or you’ve got early-onset dementia.”

Adore laughs. “I think I’m both. Although you’re in the dementia pit with me, sister.”

“How fucking dare you, I’m forty two. I’m reporting you for ageism,” Bianca snarls at her, but they both know she doesn’t mean it. Adore shrugs, stretching out against the wall.

“All I’m saying is, I think you’re forgetting I’m one of the only people in the country who’s ever got a Bianca Del Rio apology.”

Bianca shakes her head, tries to ignore how good her name sounds in Adore’s mouth. She remembers that day, remembers it well- absolutely ripping through Adore because she made a mistake and watching her tear up, spending the day being eaten up with regret and then sheepishly going to say sorry at the end of it all, watching her bashful expression become mirrored on Adore’s face as the girl had told her not to worry about it and that these things happen. Bianca looks again at Adore, the playful and lighthearted expression on her face now one of trepidation. Bianca knows what she’s thinking, and she’s wondering if she’s taken the whole thing too far. So Bianca does the only thing she can do at this point in the conversation and turns danger to derision.

“How’s being out with the girls working out for you?”

Adore puffs out a load of air, twirls an end of her long hair around her finger. “Not too well because there’s an old woman with alzheimer’s that I have to look after who’s wandering around the office muttering obscenities at me and searching for a piece of very important government information.”

Adore notes Bianca’s unamused expression and hollers out a laugh, Bianca unable to hold hers in any longer either. Smiling, Adore continues. “At least, that’s what I’ll tell the girls when they ask me why I’m late.”

Bianca sighs, shakes her head in disbelief. “Adore, I’m not going to shout at you if you want to leave. You got what you came here for, so-”

“Oh, I mean, yeah, of course. But winding up my boss’ boss is just as fun, actually is more fun, than sitting in a crowded pub with my friends yelling in my ear because the twelve men out on their Christmas piss-up are singing Fairytale of New York loud enough that their lungs are gonna pop, so…” Adore trailed off, punctuating her sentence with a shrug. She pauses a second. “Hey, what does that file look like?”

“It’s lever arch…blue, really full, probably has bits of paper sticking out of it…Christ, this is the most boring conversation I’ve ever had,” Bianca rubs her face with her hands and forgets there’s makeup on it. Adore laughs, scans the room, then immediately marches over to Courtney’s desk, moves some paper aside and returns with exactly what Bianca had described. Bianca, for her part, is stunned.

“How in the hell did you-”

“Sometimes sitting doing fuck all all day has its uses. Court took the file to update online Census data before she went off for her holidays, tried to get ahead on her work for coming back. I remember ‘cuz she asked me for a cup of tea to get her through it,” Adore smiles, her brazen confidence hidden under a shy smile. Bianca takes it from her and thanks her, regret tingeing her voice as she realises this leaves neither of them with an excuse to be in each others’ company any more.

“You know,” Adore drops into conversation nonchalantly, just as Bianca is about to cut her losses and say goodbye. “If I leave now I probably won’t get an Uber in time for the countdown, and if I do the girls’ll have probably moved on, and, like, the city’s gonna be mobbed…and, uh, there’s a bottle of prosecco that Trixie won in the raffle that she put in the fridge and never took home. So, like, if you want, we could just, uh…have, like, a…”

Bianca tries so, so hard to ignore the way her heart is soaring like a helium balloon. “See in the New Year with a bottle of fizz and a better view of London than half the city’s going to get?” Don’t sound too enthusiastic. “Well, looks like I’ve not got much better to do.”

Bianca doesn’t miss the triumphant smile Adore shoots her way as she dashes off to the tiny office kitchen to grab the promised alcohol. Left to awkwardly shuffle her feet, Bianca decides to cross the office and open the door to the meeting room. The city lights immediately flood her vision as she perches gingerly on the desk in the middle of the room, foregoing the uncomfortable office chairs. As she sits and waits, her mind races in time with her heart. It’s not a big deal, stop reading too much into it. It’s a New Years’ Eve drink with a coworker, people do that all the time at this time of year. Except Bianca knows it’s different, because Adore is not her coworker. She’s her inferior in every way- wage, status, power, everything probably except kindness of heart and beauty. Don’t think about Adore’s beauty.

All of a sudden the office goes dark, as dark as it can with the bright lights and the big city underneath it, and Adore softly pads into the room a few seconds later with two mugs, a bottle, and an excitable grin on her face. “Okay, now it’s actually like we’re in a London Eye pod. Don’t you think?”

“I think the London Eye has proper champagne flutes,” Bianca quips witheringly, hoping it disguises the fact that her heart is beating nearly out of her chest because it’s dark, and it’s New Year’s Eve, and it’s magical, and for now they’re two women drinking prosecco together with no prior agenda or obstacles.

Adore holds out one mug to Bianca. It says “Don’t talk to me until I’ve had my second morning coffee!” and for a moment Bianca wants to burst into hysterical laughter at the ridiculousness of it all. She doesn’t. Instead she smiles slightly as Adore pours the fizz into the mug with all the skill of a toddler, watches as the bubbles climb up to the rim of the porcelain until Bianca has to jump in and inhale them away.

“Wish!” Adore beams excitedly, and Bianca, hunched over the mug, launches her a quizzical look. Adore is patient with her. “You caught the bubbles. Now you make a wish.”

Bianca briefly rolls her eyes, but obediently she squeezes her eyes shut. Wishes for something wildly illogical and fanciful because it wouldn’t be a wish if it wasn’t. Bianca can set goals and achieve them, she’s been doing it all her life. Wishing for something she could easily make come true on her own is a waste of a wish. When she opens her eyes she finds Adore grinning at her moronically.

“What did you wish for?”

Bianca sips a bit more of the bubbles, as if to strengthen the wish. “If I told you that it wouldn’t come true, would it? Is that not how wishes work? Or did they change the contract?”

Adore raises her eyebrows at the woman long-sufferingly, pouring enough prosecco into her own glass that the bubbles spill over and land on her sparkly dress, a splash more constellations added to the night sky. She sips at the popping and fizzing froth on the top of the mug, locks her eyes with Bianca. “I guess we’ll need to wait before we get an answer to that, won’t we?”

Bianca coughs, fixes her eyes on a particularly glittery set of buildings in the distance. She doesn’t tear her eyes away from them as she speaks again. “Where’s, uh. Are you not meant to be with your girlfriend tonight or something?”

“You’re pretty fuckin’ out of the loop. Me ‘n Aja’ve been done since before Christmas,” Adore replies, her voice light but her tone dead, and Bianca wants to leap from the building.

“Fuck, sorry. I never knew.”

She hears a snort from beside her. Adore’s looking at the table and smiling. “Shit. Now I got two sorrys from Bianca Del Rio, fuck knows what I’ll do with all of those. Open a shop?”

Bianca humours her and laughs back in lieu of making a silly quip, she’s loath to make things worse than she already has. Adore looks back out of the window and Bianca looks at her, the view better than anything behind that pane of glass.

“We didn’t know what the hell we were doing. Either of us,” Adore continues. The city lights are reflected in her eyes, dark and beautiful and capable of making Bianca say things she might regret. “Suddenly it got to two years and we both, like…died laughing at the thought of being ready to settle down any time soon. She’d kissed other girls. I’d slept with somebody else. Just to…fuck, I don’t know. Like, I wondered if I was actually in love, wondered what it was all meant to feel like. Wondered if I’d feel anything before, during, after.”

Bianca is taking this all in her stride despite the fact her mind is moving about the same rate as Adore’s lips and with each new revelation there is something new to get her head around. She somehow coughs up a question. “And did you?”

Adore laughs completely humourlessly. It doesn’t suit her. “Good question, girl. I’ll come back to you when I have an answer that makes any fuckin’ sense to you. Right now I don’t even have one that makes sense to me.”

Bianca crosses her legs and is deep in thought. She doesn’t know if she ever had Adore pinned as the type to cheat on a girlfriend, then immediately thinks she is silly to consider such an action as being attributed to a type of person. You can never really ever know a human, and with each new day someone can surprise you with the mundane or underwhelm with a revelation. Still, she reminds herself, she thought she’d known…

Never mind.

Point is, nothing shocks or fazes her any more. She considers herself an expert in human nature simply by following one simple rule; never assume.

“You probably think I’m an awful fuckin’ person now.”

Bianca turns and looks at Adore as if the eye contact will answer her question without having to say anything. This already doesn’t seem sufficient to either her or Adore, so Bianca follows it up anyway. “You honestly might as well do whatever the fuck you want in life, Adore. Half the world’s out there doing that already and not giving a single shit about the consequences.”

Adore narrows her eyes at her, quirks a smile that doesn’t quite meet her lips. “That’s a very…world weary answer.”  

“I’m a very world weary woman,” Bianca sips her prosecco. It tastes absolutely fucking horrible out of a mug. Her mind must have been playing tricks on her, as Adore seems to shift closer to her until she is right bang next to her sitting on top of the table. There is no space between them- no hands, no cups, no air, and the sheer possibility and risk of it all makes Bianca shiver.

“I think you’re a very complex woman,” Adore murmurs delicately. Bianca doesn’t dare meet her eyes, instead electing to look down at where the hem of Adore’s dress meets her black tights with a small ladder. “I would kill to read some form of, like…autobiography.”

Bianca laughs, reaches out and starts fiddling with a small sequin on Adore’s dress in spite of herself. “It would be a very fucking short autobiography. I was born, I grew up, I got this job, I died. The end. Four pages at most. Five including a contents page.”

“There’s more to you than that.”

“No there isn’t.”

Bianca feels Adore tense up beside her, is frightened into dropping the hem of her dress and to stop picking at the stitching. She’s an idiot who went too far and got caught up in the night and has probably ruined the poor girl’s dress. Adore speaks. “People’ve told me that you used to wear a wedding ring, and now you don’t.”

Now it’s Bianca’s turn to tense up, and she does her best to give Adore a run for her money. Freezes in place so quick it puts her in mind of a childhood game of musical statues. Adore recoils quickly as if she’s been burned; Bianca is a sparkler she’s let linger in her hands for too long. It becomes a game of who will break the silence first. Adore wins. Or loses. Bianca supposes there are no winners in this conversation.

“Bianca, I’m sorry,” she whispers, closes the gap again and touches her hand. She seems to have second thoughts and removes it again, and Bianca wants to curl her fingers around Adore’s and not let go. “Shit, fuck, this was so above my station…I’m so sorry, Bianca, honestly-”

Bianca can feel the woman getting stressed out next to her. She never thought she’d be referring to Adore as a woman, but there’s a first for everything. She looks grown up and confident and self-assured with her dark hair (she got rid of the blonde and Bianca thinks it suits her), her perfect red lipstick, her sophisticated dress. Except now she looks every inch the panicking intern Bianca first knew her as, and she decides to swallow her fears and take Adore’s hand, laces their fingers together like she wanted to earlier.

They’re holding hands. The director of communications for the government of the entire country is holding hands with a comms girl endless fucking pay grades below her, and there is so much wrong but yet so much that just seems correct. It’s two hands linked together. That’s all.

“Like I said,” Bianca smiles sadly at the carpet, deciding that particular story can wait until she’s six feet under. “Half the world’s doing whatever the fuck they want and not giving a shit about the consequences.”

Adore strokes her thumb at the knuckle and Bianca is lost for words, a rare occurrence in her life. “I’m so sorry, Bianca.”

“Well. We’ve both put our foot in it now, so,” Bianca drops their hands, decides it’s probably a good place to end whatever the hell this is. She picks up her mug and tries to ignore the feeling that Adore looks disappointed at the lack of contact. “To being untactful shits incapable of emotional intelligence.”

Adore gives a small laugh, clinks her mug against Bianca’s own. There’s a moment of silence before she speaks.

“I’ve never told anyone about cheating on Aja. Apart from her, obviously.”

“Well now I have some serious dirt on you,” Bianca raises her eyebrows in an attempt to make light of the situation. She is rewarded by a laugh from Adore.

“I guess I did it because…well. There’s like…always been a third person in my relationships. No, fuck, that sounds weird and intense, but…ah, it’s hard to explain,” Adore hisses through her teeth, and Bianca is intrigued. The entire opening hangs heavy in the air, and Bianca doesn’t want to think about the possibilities it holds. She can feel her heart speed up, and she takes a too-big gulp of her prosecco and feels the bubbles shatter like ice down her gullet. Adore is looking at her, she knows, but Bianca holds her gaze on the city. “Do you ever, like, think about how there could be a right person, but the wrong place and wrong time? Wrong universe, even. Like they could be so gorgeous and funny and warm and you just know they’d be great to talk to if you ever got a proper chance, but you’ve never had the chance, and you know you won’t ever get the chance? So you just make peace with it, except, like, you’re never really at peace with it because with every new relationship you get into it’s just taunting you, the what if, the wondering?”

The air is spitting and crackling with electricity. Hot oil on a pan. Bianca shakes her head. “Adore, I haven’t been in a relationship for, literally, years.”

“But you still know the feeling though, don’t you?” Bianca is suddenly electrocuted, thousands of volts running through her as Adore takes her hand and gives Bianca no choice but to turn and face her, the city lights ripped from her eyes as Adore gazes into Bianca’s own, nothing to reflect in them, just black. Bianca’s heart goes from racing to flatlined. Adore doesn’t break eye contact. “Bianca…I know you know the feeling.”

And this is it. It’s out in the open, the tension between them that’s lingered for years like somebody’s taken a knife to a huge helium balloon. Bianca almost wants to laugh. There is no point protesting, or trying to tell Adore she’s got it all wrong. Adore is headstrong, has always been headstrong, and she knows, and she knows that Bianca knows. The situation is funny. They’re Christ knows how many feet up in the air, in the offices in the dead of night on New Year’s Eve. Bianca knows whatever happens this evening that the second she steps out of the building and into the freezing cold air, the magic will be gone. Because that’s what this is- magic. It could only be magic that Adore is making Bianca confront all of this before the entire slate gets wiped clean, the biggest cliche in the book.

“Fuck,” Bianca just laughs, the resigned exhalation of someone who has no energy left to deny it. “You’re literally…you’re just a kid-”

“I’m twenty fucking eight, Bianca,” Adore snaps, as if she’s had that excuse used against her for the entireity of her life and has had enough. Bianca is suitably admonished.

“Right. Sorry. Ignore me, I’m old. Which begs the question…” Bianca realises they haven’t stopped holding hands yet. “Adore….me? Really? Me? Why me?”

“I think you’re beautiful,” Adore shrugs. Her matter-of-fact-ness makes Bianca blush as if she’s back in high school. “And there’s, like…always been something about you that’s just drawn me to you. I don’t know. It’s like I said, I think we’d get on if we’d let ourselves get to know each other. I think we’re similar.”

Bianca paused before replying, taking a moment to just look into Adore’s eyes. She sighs heavily.

“There really is nothing about this that is any fucking fair at all.”

Adore laughs, neglecting to break eye contact. “How come?”

“Because there’s absolutely no way that we can pursue any of this. And it’s almost more cruel knowing we both want to,” Bianca snorts sardonically, refills her and Adore’s cups. Adore pouts. She’s showing her age.

“But we could if we wanted to. We could at least try,” she pleads, hope in her voice that makes Bianca want to wrap her up and take her home with her. Bianca laughs. Someone is going to have to be the voice of reason in this conversation.

“Adore, there’s a reason my marriage ended. There’s a reason I’ve not had a relationship for twelve years. There’s a reason I haven’t acted upon any of my feelings towards you,” she says, her voice coated in thick regret. She gives Adore’s hand a squeeze to soften the blow. “This job is my relationship. This job is my marriage. I barely have time for three meals a day- I don’t have time for three meals a day. I mean, fucking look at me. I’m at work on New Years’ Eve.”

“I’m at work on New Years’ Eve,” Adore gestures at herself, as if that simple fact is enough to convince her. Bianca laughs. She is the sweetest fucking person to ever exist, she fully believes that.

“There’s fourteen years separating us. I’m head of government communications, you’re a civil servant. That’s madness. We wouldn’t work.”

“No, probably not. It probably would just all end in tears. But at least we’d know. Which is, like, better than where we are just now, where we don’t know,” Adore shrugs, but the expression on her face lets Bianca know she thinks it’s a lost cause too. Bianca feels sad for her, feels sad for them both. She shuffles closer.

“Look. You know that I like you, and I know that you like me, and at least we don’t have to suspect it any more. We know. And it doesn’t matter that nothing’s going to happen, because…oh, fuck, what’s that saying? The possibility far outweighs the outcome, or some shit like that?”

Adore cracks up laughing. “That phrase doesn’t exist.”

“Yes it fucking- Christ, the point is that this night…” Bianca rubs her head in exhaustion. “…this night is like a microcosm of the universe. You were saying we’re in the wrong universe, well, just for tonight, this office is the right one. Just for now. A weird purgatory.”

Adore smiles, brushes a bit of hair out of her face. “So you’re, what. Confucius now, right?”

“Something like that.”

The chimes of Big Ben cut through the office and fireworks spring to life across the city below. Startled, both women spring away from each other. Bianca watches Adore check her phone. “Oh, shit.”

“We missed the countdown,” Bianca mutters sheepishly, suddenly ashamed of the whole conversation. Adore snorts.

“No, I just have, like, fifty voicemails from the girls,” she shrugs lightly, putting her phone face-down on the desk and facing Bianca once more. She holds out her mug and smiles gently. “Cheers, then.”

“Cheers,” Bianca says quietly, like she doesn’t want the office to hear. She taps the porcelain against Adore’s mug. They are close, their knees touching, and Bianca flicks her gaze up from the mugs to Adore’s eyes.

“Fuck it,” she whispers, before setting her mug down, bringing one hand to rest on Adore’s waist and the other to gently tilt her chin up before closing the gap between them.

If talking to Adore on New Years’ Eve in a dark office with the city lights reflected in her eyes is magic, then kissing Adore is the best kind of witchcraft. It’s a hesitant kiss, the fault of both of them as neither of them really know what they’re doing or what they’ll do once it’s over, so they carry on. Adore has brought a hand up to rest at Bianca’s jaw, her thumb stroking her cheek gently, and Bianca never wants the sensation to stop. She wants to freeze the entire moment in time but she is aware she can’t do that, so focuses on committing it to memory; the way Adore tastes like sparkling prosecco, the scent of her perfume, the way they both seem to just fit together and the whole exciting unfamiliarity of it all.

Just when Bianca seems to be getting used to things she feels Adore tugging away, and she in turn doesn’t resist. She can’t help the disappointed slump of her shoulders as Adore is once again in front of her, bashfully smoothing down her dress. All at once Bianca is swept up in complete fantasy. Maybe she and Adore could work. There might be a way to make it all doable, even if she only gets to take Adore out to dinner once every couple of weeks, something like that. Adore makes the decision for her, putting her empty mug down and standing up from the table, taking Bianca’s hand and giving it a squeeze.

“Happy New Year, Bianca,” she smiles softly before turning and opening the heavy glass door, managing halfway through it before turning and looking back at her. She wants her to say something, Bianca can tell, and there’s so much she could say. She decides not to ruin things. This night has been enough. It’s a new day- a new year now, and everything is fresh and new, a blanket of freshly fallen snow without any footprints. She decides to smile and give Adore a small wave.

“Happy New Year.”  

The door swings shut, and the magic is over.

[fuckyeahscootmcnairy]

Scoot McNairy On Lightening Up In HBO Max’s ‘Love Life’ And The Making Of A Great ‘Narcos: Mexico’ Scene

By Kimberly Ricci

The first few times I interviewed Scoot McNairy, I got a little aggressive with rampant questions about his righteous mustaches. In my defense, these discussions of facial hair often lightened the mood as we discussed his recent heavy roles on True Detective‘s third season and the most recent round of Narcos: Mexico. Scoot’s always a good sport about answering the most bizarre of inquiries, but for his latest project — an HBO Max dramedy, Love Life, starring Anna Kendrick — no such lightening was required.

Don’t get me wrong, it’s not that there isn’t a mustache present with this Scoot project. There is one, although it’s not as plentiful as those that he sported in the above two projects and Godless. So, the Halt and Catch Fire actor was off the hook (this time) for any facial hair talk. Fortunately, he’s still gracious enough to discuss this latest role (a wealthy entrepreneur and slightly older man who plays a key role in helping Kendrick’s character develop) with us, including how much of a relief it is to step into the shoes of a less-stressed-out character. I also wished to discuss the latest Narcos: Mexico season finale, which ended with a fantastic, fictionalized, and quiet confrontation between his DEA agent character, Walt Breslin, and the drug lord (portrayed by Diego Luna) that he put behind bars, and Scoot was game for that, too.

Love Life is a nice piece of an escapism. Would you characterize it as a romantic comedy or dramedy?

I haven’t seen the project as of yet, but after reading and talking with [showrunner] Sam Boyd, it feels like it’s more of a dramedy, and also a sort-of slice-of-life over the course of ten years, well, basically a decade.

Even though it’s not 100% cheery, this role’s definitely more lighthearted than anything you’ve done lately. Did that feel like taking a load off?

You know, it was a lot of fun. I started in this business twenty years ago, and for the first ten years, mostly what I did was comedy, and I haven’t been able to do that in eight or nine years. So, I was really looking to try and find something to do, comedic-wise, and Sam had this project that I really liked. So yeah, I really enjoy doing comedy or dark comedy, so this was really fun to step back into that — a lighter role.

Whenever I think about artists switching up genres and entering different phases, I think of an old Ethan Hawke interview, where he expressed his surprise at how shooting horror movies was a lot more silly and less terrifying than he expected. Was making a romantic comedy the same or different than you expected?

That’s a really great question, but you know, it just felt familiar. Comedy is something that I’m somewhat uncomfortable with but obviously very, very scared of and stuff, and it’s also about challenging yourself with something that you haven’t really done in a long time and something you really enjoy doing. And also just moving around, switching it up, and trying not to get pigeonholed into a sort-of genre, just to stretch your wings, I guess.

I don’t know if you’re aware, but one of the Love Life promo shots zeroes in on your character, Bradley, with a martini. You’re playing a character who drinks martinis!

Yeah! He’s a New Yorker, really into art and very motivated and ambitious. That being said, there’s also a lighter side to the character. I just hadn’t done comedy in so long, so I was really itching to do it. And Anna Kendrick is genius, and incredible at what she does, and I was really looking to work with her on something that was comedic and in her wheelhouse. She’s incredible in this, and it’s such an amazing project for her and role for her, so I was really excited to just be a part of that.

And the writing feels realistic and without too much reliance upon clichés.

Sam Boyd, the creator, he’s a really really smart guy. He was incredibly great to work with and collaborative and all that, but he wrote an incredible story. Really heartfelt and funny and sad at times, so I think it should be a really fun, wild ride.

Do you have a favorite romantic comedy?

Some of the older ones like When Harry Met Sally and Richard Linklater’s earlier stuff, including Before Sunrise. I loved those movies and the big, broad comedies like the Will Ferrell stuff.

Producer Paul Feig’s helming of Bridesmaids might bring a lot of curious eyes to this project. There are some similarities.

Yeah, definitely, I hope so. It’s really special and unique and also brings us back to movies like Reality Bites. It’s kind-of like a version of that for the newer generation.

That newer generation has been embracing romcoms on Netflix. Do you have any take on why those movies are doing so well there?

I don’t, to be honest, I didn’t know that. But as of right now, in the position where people are in quarantine, romcoms are movies that make you feel good, so maybe we’re seeing a lot of that just because of the times we’re going through.

Talking about your Love Life character any more would lead to spoilers, so do you mind if I ask you about the Narcos: Mexico season finale?

Nope. You mean the one we last finished?

Yes, and specifically, the conversation between Walt Breslin and Félix Gallardo. I’ve been comparing it to other great confrontations like Pacino and De Niro in Heat and FX’s Justified ending.

Wow.

Did you draw inspiration from any movies or TV shows, or was it solely about those two characters to you?

Oh, I was terrified to do that scene, to be honest to you. A lot of what you’re seeing is just terror, but I know that there’s always, in these sort-of male-driven shows, there’s always this reference back to Heat. You know, Carlo Bernard, one of the creators of the show, he worked with Michael Mann and actually worked on Heat, so we’re always throwing that around and stuff, so yeah, in so many ways, it’s going to resemble that scene. But I don’t speak Spanish, and that whole scene was in Spanish. It was a long one, so I am very glad to hear you say that it turned out so great because it was a very nervous one for me.

Aren’t you a Texas native? I grew up in Oklahoma, and Spanish wasn’t required but strongly encouraged. I can’t imagine going into that scene dry.

I learned a little bit in the time that I had, but even as a kid, I never picked up much Spanish living in Texas.

So when you think about Walt and Félix, do you sense any admiration there as well as contempt? Or was I reading too much into that?

Oh for sure! You develop, in law enforcement, when you’re going after a case for X amount of time, I’m sure you develop a relationship with that person, and you know so much about them that there is a sense of admiration and respect when you’ve kind-of got your guy. The very thing I think about that scene is that, like, there’s this idea that Walt got his guy, and he’s won. And throughout that scene, he [realizes] that’s he’s only created a worse problem. And I love the sort-of dynamics that shift in that scene. And him going through what is to come because of what [he’s] done. Like, [he] didn’t do anything but cause a worse problem.

And on a personal level, Walt didn’t even get the closure that he wanted.

Yeah, neither one of them. It feels like they both lost.

Have you heard anything about another season?

No, I would gladly be open to doing more. I had a wonderful time on the show and loved working with the crew down there and all the people on the show, executives and Netflix. It was a dream job, so I would happily jump back down there.

The first three episodes of ‘Love Life’ premiere on May 27 with the launch of HBO Max.

[x]

[peri-2f5l-5xg]

     What blob thing? Peridot didn’t get the chance to finish that thought.

     The little technician’s tablet clattered to the floor, a sharp yelp escaping her lips as something lashed around her middle abruptly, lifting her into the air. “WH-- HEY--” Her struggle didn’t last long; all at once she froze, face-to-face with none other than Lapis Lazuli herself. The gem had come down from the second floor, descending the ladder behind Peridot while she was preoccupied.

     Normally, Peridot would’ve laughed this off, maybe called her a clod and demanded to be put down. This was her best friend! A dork who prided herself in ‘whispering to frogs’ and parroting bits of Camp Pining Hearts dialogue and still didn’t quite get the concept of money. Lapis was ridiculous, and silly, and sometimes incredibly sweet... And against all odds, there was no denying that the pair of polar opposites had forged an incredibly strong bond.

     But in that moment Lapis was staring at a total stranger, and Peridot felt the disconnect immediately. Her friend had no idea who she was, or what she was doing lurking around the pair’s house. And why should she? Peridot didn’t exactly look like herself right now. The cold judgment in Lapis’s eyes sent chills straight down her spine.

     It was just like that first day at the barn, only even worse.

     The last time Peridot felt this mortally terrified, she’d been facing down a timeline devouring eldritch nightmare... Not her own roommate.

     An unfamiliar pounding beat in her ears; was that her heart? Were hearts supposed to be audible? Stars, she felt like her breath was caught in her throat, but there was nothing actually obstructing the former gem’s airways. Her chest was so tight, as though the visceral sense of fear had clamped around her abdomen like a metal vice.

     Every tiny animal instinct in her body was screaming at her to run, hide, escape, but that wasn’t much of an option at the moment.

     The gold-streaked gem was glaring at her grimly, expression charged with a vague sense of annoyance and contempt. Three of her wings had curled around from the left, wrapping around Peridot’s middle and holding her aloft; her limbs dangled helplessly, entirely out of reach of the floor. She kicked a few times furiously, but to no avail. Lapis’s expression didn’t change at all.

     “Are you done? I could put you in a timeout bubble until you cool off, but I hear humans need air.” Peridot immediately stiffened.

     “Yes, I’m ‘done,’” she replied meekly, struggling to find the right words. This definitely had to look pretty bad. As far as Lapis knew, the terrified human was a home invader at best. Gems didn’t just turn into humans, this was entirely unprecedented-- and she didn’t even have an explanation for it! Stars, what was she going to do?! Peridot was pretty sure Lapis wouldn’t actually hurt her on purpose, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t by accident.

     Wow, it was weird actually being nervous about those violent jokes that the duo had previously tossed around like they were nothing. They were just jokes, right? Peridot suddenly wasn’t as sure of that as she’d have liked.

     “Good.” Lapis scrutinized her a moment, eyes scanning over her as the blue gem picked up on a few details in sequence... Then focused very specifically on the necklace, or rather, on its crystalline adornment. Her gaze darkened, and Peridot felt that fear grip her all the more tightly as she realized this looked even worse than she’d initially thought.

     Oh stars. She thinks that’s my gem. It looks just like it.

     “What,” demanded the figure coldly, “Is that?” One sharp claw pointed straight to it, and the water tendrils around Peridot’s middle tightened abruptly-- she gasped in alarm, grabbing at them with her hands. It did no good, her fingers sliding through the liquid uselessly. Peridot was yanked closer, one of Lapis’s hands reaching out and grabbing onto the necklace to get a better look.

     There was a long, uncomfortable silence; she had just enough space to breathe, but not very deeply. Mostly it just hurt, her ribs tightly compressed under the heavy pressure. Is she actually going to crush me?! I can’t believe I’ve only been a human for 15 minutes and I’m already going to--

     “You have a really weird sense of humor.” The necklace slid from Lapis’s grasp, and the tendrils loosened. She immediately took deep gulps of fresh oxygen into her lungs, already feeling a bit better. The air definitely helped clear her head slightly, allowing for a few coherent thoughts to take form.

     ... Humor? What’s she talking about..?

     “Just-- let me down--!” It wasn’t the most eloquent reaction, but at this point Peridot wasn’t sure she could formulate anything better. “This isn’t what it looks like!” Lapis raised one eyebrow, clearly unimpressed.

     “Then what is it? Because right now, I think I’ve captured a member of Peridot’s weird fanclub that came in here looking for a keepsake. I guess you really do exist.” Peridot stared. That... Was not the conclusion she’d been expecting. Maybe the necklace wasn’t as exact as she’d thought; it wasn’t like Peridot could actually study the shape of her own gem while she was poofed. She might have laughed if this wasn’t such a tense situation.

     At the very least, the ridiculousness did manage to calm her nerves a bit.

     “Well,” she decided finally with just the smallest hint of smugness, “I guess that’s technically correct, I’m a very big fan of myself.” Lapis stared at her even more intensely; Peridot hadn’t even known that was possible. Maybe that had been a bit too bold. Suddenly she felt like a scared rabbit, wanting to just shrink and disappear down a hole.

     “... What.” She could practically see the gears turning in her roommate’s head; this was probably at least the third tensest silence of Peridot’s existence, and she really wasn’t enjoying it.

     Then finally it broke with a surprising sound. Snort. Suddenly Lapis was laughing, and although the water holding Peridot aloft didn’t release her, she did notice herself being lowered to the floor. She couldn’t have been more confused, did that actually work? It sort of seemed that way, though the gem-turned-human had a feeling it wasn’t quite that simple.

     “Okay,” Lapis stated finally, “Either you’re some sort of weird human alternate, or that was the best Peridot impression I’ve ever heard.”

     On second thought, that was actually a pretty reasonable conclusion.

     “Nyeheh,” she chuckled nervously, “Close. It’s...” Peridot paused, suddenly not sure how she’d even explain this. “It’s just me, Peridot, but somehow I’ve been transformed into a human. It doesn’t make any sense to me, either.” Judging by he look on Lapis’s face, that apparently wasn’t very convincing... Her green eyes scanned over the area; was there anything she could use to prove it? Wait, my tablet! She instinctively attempted to draw it to her hand, but to no avail; her hand lifted, but the device gave no response. No metal powers. Right. Ugh.

     “... Very funny. Now, what’s the real story? That’s impossible.” Lapis was waiting, but the look on her face wasn’t patient. Peridot cleared her throat; stars why was this so hard? She could hardly remember a time when Lapis was actually scary to her. It was like the technician was facing her own newfound mortality.

     “Okay,” she decided finally, “Just... Try the tablet. They can sort it out, probably. You can use my account, just make sure to introduce yourself so they know who’s speaking.” The hydrokinetic gem followed her gaze to the tablet, frowning. Finally she strode over, scooping the device up and taking a seat on the hammock nearby.

     The water bindings finally withdrew, releasing Peridot entirely. “I’ll try it, but don’t go anywhere.” Peridot nodded anxiously and seated herself on the bench nearby. Lapis promptly started tapping away on the screen, scrolling through posts and starting to type up one of her own.

     Now Peridot just had to wait. Hopefully this wouldn’t end with being chucked into the ocean; she was suddenly very aware of her inability to swim.