#linda is in a special group all of her own called ''i want you to leave your husband for me''

[mydaroga]

hi! your tags on that paul and mick post about the thing that ppl cant handle about paul is that he doesn’t really need you, i was wondering if you could elaborate more on that?

Hello nonny! Thanks for asking. I'm going to of course say up front that I am not Paul McCartney, nor do I know him, and all this is pure speculation/interpretation on my part and others might be equally valid. But!

My overwhelming impression of Paul is that he does not let people close easily. We hear this from many quarters, that his friendliness masks an intensely private nature. By his own admission, he is not free with his emotions; there are even times he calls his relationship with John into question and implies it was more proximity/accident than not. When Jane broke up with him, even with as far apart as they'd grown as people, he was left without an emotional confidante. This implies he didn't really avail himself of the multitude of people around him for emotional support. He is intensely loyal to a core group of people, but that circle is fairly small.

Ugh I am so wordy apologies, I'll make a cut for everyone's convenience...

I'd have to look up the quotes and I'm not sure where to begin, but we hear from later colleagues that the intimacy fostered by working together didn't really extend, for Paul, into a real emotional bond. I say this because we've heard from Wings members over the years who complained/lamented that they thought they were closer to Paul than he was to them. Many of those who worked with him, like Elvis Costello, saw their relationship sort of disappear without leaving much of a lasting trace. There is nothing wrong with having working relationships with no fuller emotional bond--my point is, over the years people seem to have thought they had more of one than they did. I suspect Paul being eager to seem open and friendly, his ability to listen and draw you out, could lead to an impression you were closer than you really were.

As for his social life, while obviously there are friendships Paul maintained for long periods of time, and while he always seems to like having someone there, he feels like an out of sight, out of mind sort of person. He and John are very close when in proximity. But when John moves to Weybridge, Paul goes over to work, but we don't hear about them really socializing (until John is practically living with him). With his girlfriends, like Maggie, he'd disappear for awhile and then just sort of turn up when he wanted her. Francie reported Jim asking her to convince him to call home more often. Even as a child, Paul's need for friends was noticeably low, and he relied primarily on Mike and his family for society, despite being chummy with other boys.

What the Mick story brings home, for me, is that while Paul is capable of maintaining friendships and relationships and obviously cares deeply, and he's happy to enjoy your company and indeed wants some company about, he's not going to seek you out specifically. I think he's an intensely private person, and his requirement for close relationships is lower than that of some people. For example, once he's with Linda it's clear his need for anyone else goes way down. And he keeps her within arm's reach until her death.

Where this gets him--or others, really--"in trouble" is where his sociable and gregarious nature might be seen to imply a closeness that is not actually being offered. I think it's easy to fall under his spell and think, "oh I'm special to him" when really, he's just being charming. So he's not going to Mick Jagger's house because he doesn't particularly care about Mick or Marianne. He doesn't dislike them. But he can't be bothered to go out of his way, because it's not their company specifically he's seeking. And if company comes to him, it's just as well because it doesn't really matter as much who it is.

This is way too long, I'm sorry, but as usual I want to make sure I'm hitting enough points to make an argument. My point is, there's nothing inherently wrong with Paul being charming and sociable, but I think with most people it's impersonal, and if you're on the wrong side of that and think his friendliness is an invitation, it might be easy to get hurt. John is similarly known to move on from certain people, but I think it feels different because John is not invested in making it seem like he likes everyone.

Of course, I could be making some unwarranted leaps, so as always I invite you or anyone to weigh in!

[talagirl]

the characters i like can be sorted into a venn diagram with three circles labeled "intp with an excitable freckled rival who drives them to do better" and "crazy bastard" and "househusband" and they do not touch

[boldlyvoid]

Amoreena | chapter seven

Chapter Seven

main summary: Heaven is a real place and it's located exactly 14.6 miles away from the FBI, Quantico Headquarters. Off behind a small park, under a fantastical willow tree surrounded by wildflowers, in every colour young minds can imagine. Don't forget, heaven also comes with angels. Chapter Warnings: major fluff word count: 3.9k From the beginning <3

Spencer wakes up to the sound of Amoreena calling for her mother and the feeling of Y/N’s arms wrapped around his middle, finding her way to being the big spoon during the night.

“Dad? Where’s my mom?” Amoreena calls again from outside Spencer's door.

“She’s in here, but don’t come in yet, give her a minute to wake up,” he calls back, hoping she listens and doesn’t come barging in.

Y/N lets out a deep sigh as she sits up, still naked under the covers from the activities from the night before but not concerned in the slightest. She gets out of bed and grabs some fresh shirts from the closet before finding both their underwear on the floor, tossing them at Spencer and telling him to put everything on.

Once they’re finally dressed she opens the bedroom door and scoops up the little one, bringing her back into the bed with them so they can all cuddle.

“What the heck?” Is all Amoreena can ask, “why are you in here?”

“We had a sleepover,” Y/N explains softly, holding Amoreena closer to her and Spencer snuggles in too. “I’m thinking about moving my stuff into here too, so that me and your dad can share and we won’t wake you up by talking at night.”

“Is that why GG’s dress is hanging up there? Are you getting married?” She was full of questions, as always.

It makes them both laugh, “what if we already got married?” Y/N teases her, poking her side lightly.

She starts to pout, real tears forming in her eyes as she pulls away from them to sit at the foot of the bed, “why would you do it without me?” they both rush to console her, wrapping her up in a group hug.

“Not for real, we were just pretending to be married honey, I promise,” Y/N tries to explain softly, “did you want me to have a wedding?”

She nods softly, “like in Enchanted, but I’m your daughter and you marry Spencer and you can have a big puffy dress and I can get one too, can I be the flower girl?”

“Of course we’ll get married for you, just the three of us can plan something okay?” Y/N compromised, making a reference Spencer didn’t understand.

“We have to do it in New York like in the movie,” Amoreena was very serious, looking at them with a stern gaze.

There was a whole world of movies and music that built Amoreena’s personality that he was going to have to learn, he was going to be spending a lot of late nights on Disney+.

“We’ll find a way,” Y/N agreed before kissing Amoreena’s forehead.

“Okay,” she smiled nice and wide, wiping her tears away and cuddling in-between Spencer and Y/N.

She turned more towards Spencer, placing her head on his chest while Y/N spooned into her. The three of them cuddled up in one knot, and Amoreena was a snuggle bug. She cuddled right in and made a tiny home in his arms and he was going to hold her for as long as she wanted to be held.

Y/N couldn’t stop smiling at him, he’d glance to her every few minutes to see her gaze hadn’t moved; she was so content seeing the little family they made, all together and happy as they snuggled up closer and closer till Amoreena felt like she couldn’t breathe anymore and pushed them both away.

“I need to go feed the chickens,” she whispered, still on Spencer’s chest as Y/N got out of the bed, “would you like to help, dad?”

He kissed her little forehead before she sat up, “I’d love to, can I put some jeans on and meet you downstairs?”

“Sure!” She cheered, jumping off the bed and running out the door. Her feet smacking the hardwood floor, making the floor creak and pop as she marched down the cold wooden steps.

“How are you feeling this morning?” He asks Y/N with a small smile, remembering what happened the night before.

She nodded softly, smiling while she suppressed a laugh, “I feel like a teenager again, like my mom's going to know I lost my virginity the second I see her.”

Spencer laughed too, “you haven’t?”

“I said again,” she laughed again, sitting back down on the bed and laying her head in his lap, “I wouldn’t say I’ve been celibate all this time, but yeah no one’s done that with me in a while, it’s normally just me and these bad boys.”

She put both hands in the air, doing jazz hands as she raised her eyebrows, “I love you,” the words had their own agenda as he said them unconsciously.

“I love you!” She wrapped her hands around his shoulders and pulled him down into a big kiss, making the classic smooch noise as they pulled apart and smiled.

“Can I take you on a date this week? Maybe Thursday night, because you don’t work on Fridays?” he felt nervous as if she wasn’t pretending to be his wife currently like she’d reject him for some ungodly reason.

“Yeah, I’d love that, my mom won't mind doing Amoreena’s bedtime routine, she’d probably love to have a sleepover at their house,” Y/N’s eyes were gleaming at the prospect of spending more time alone with him.

He placed his left hand on her stomach softly, staring at the ring on his finger before letting his eyes trail her body. She was in just a pair of underwear and a shirt that used to be her grandma's, beautiful as ever as the sunrise cast an orange glow over her.

His wife.

“Thank you,” she cut into the moment of silence, “for last night.”

“You don’t have to thank me.”

She got up and sat in his lap then, straddling his hips and holding his face in her hands so she could get a good look at his chocolate eyes, she ran her thumb over his cheeks, kissing the freckle on top of his eyebrow and the tip of his nose gently, “she has your nose.”

Knowing she saw it too made his heart physically burn, it caught fire in his chest and he felt like he couldn’t breathe “yeah?”

“My mom said she looked like a Who when she was born,” she pushed his nose up with her finger like he was a pig, “it’s so perfect and cute.”

“Thank you,” he can’t help but feel emotional.

“Hey,” she teases him again, “It was my turn to say that, so bear with me for a second before I get too emotional at 7 in the morning.”

“Okay,” he whispered, ready to listen intently to how she felt about him.

“You told me something very difficult for you, that was a secret I’m sure no one else knows about, I can tell by the way you panicked last night that this is a serious anxiety you have about never being a father,” her voice was soft as she brushed his hair behind his ears, running her fingers through the curls ever so gently. “You’re a father, hopefully of two”

It made him laugh as a tear trickled down his cheek, pressing his lips together as he listened, not wanting to disrupt all the thoughts she was going to unload on him because it was a ticket into her mind. He was finally learning her feelings and what she thought about him, not just in a fairytale glow, but in the ugly as well.

“If you ever want to talk about her we can,” she changed the subject.

“Maeve was probably a wonderful woman if you loved her enough to wish you had kids with her, she’s technically the reason I have Amoreena, you wouldn’t have donated again without what happened to her,” she made a great point, bringing a positive light to the worst day of his life.

“You’re a wonderful man and I love you very much, being open with me was really appreciated, getting to do what we did last night was very special to me, so thank you,” she smiled softly before kissing him on the lips again.

“Thank you for being the person I can talk to about this stuff, it’s been really scary,” he admitted softly about to cry when they heard the front door slam close.

“And she’s off,” Y/N smiled again, pressing their noses together. “You need to go with her, she’s very impatient.”

“I know,” he smiled. “But I need to tell you that it runs a lot deeper than what you saw last night. I’m a mess in here and it’s not going away overnight because I’ve found my family.”

“I know,” she nodded ever so softly so their noses brushed again. “I am always here to talk, or we can get you a therapist or sign you up for groups, anything you need to feel better, I’m here to assist in making this beautiful brain feel more loved.”

“Thank you,” he whispered again. “So, if I planned a big date night and requested that you wear your best princess dress and meet me at the door for 6, you’d be down?” He teases her.

She couldn’t help but laugh, “sure, cutie, any colour dress do you want me in?”

“I think red would fit the theme I’m thinking of,” saying a little of his plans and not too much, unsure exactly what he wants to do with her first.

She pinched his cheeks as he smiled, “I don’t get any hints?”

“Nope, and I have chickens to feed,” he said, moving her off his lap and getting ready for the day finally.

—

They both sent Amoreena off to school with a hug and a kiss at the bus stop, exchanging I love you’s and saying they’d see her once she got home. Then Spencer kissed Y/N goodbye as she got ready for work, heading to the main house to talk to her mother about Thursday.

He knocked on the front door, being told to come in, he was family now after all.

“Good morning Spencer, would you like some breakfast?” Linda offered with a big smile, exactly like Y/N’s.

“I’d love some,” he gladly followed her into the kitchen, taking a mug of coffee and a homemade cinnamon roll from her. Amoreena already had one this morning before the bus, leaving a single missing spot in the middle of the pan.

“Would you be able to watch over Amoreena on Thursday night so I can take Y/N out on a real date?” He asks with all the confidence in the world, knowing her mother would say yes regardless.

“Oh absolutely!” She beamed, “what were you planning?”

“Can you keep a secret?” He asked before picking up his coffee with his left hand.

“That’s her grandfather's ring,” Linda pointed it out with a smile growing on her face, it was motherly pride if he’s ever seen it, “she finally did it.”

She must have told her mom the plan, her long-time dream of marrying a good person in that field. Someone to have a family with, someone to give Amoreena siblings and all the extra love in the world, and she picked him.

He nodded softly, “last night we got pretend married, and Amoreena got very upset when she learned we did that without her.”

Linda nodded with a soft smile, “they’re attached at the hip, sometimes I think Amoreena is just a clone of her and then I met you.”

He laughed through his nose, eyes wide as he smirked, “well, actually I might be her father.”

Linda sprouted the same expression Y/N had last night when she found out, “huh?”

He sighed, “I donated sperm the month before she got pregnant with Amoreena, my friends said there should be more geniuses in the world and it’s not like I was getting married any time soon.”

Linda just smiled and shook her head with that same sigh of love that must run in the family, she walked over to him and gave him a small hug as he sat at the kitchen table.

“So, Spencer, tell me about yourself?” Linda asked as she sat down beside him with her own coffee and cinnamon roll, getting to know her son-in-law for the first time ever.

He was in there, laughing and bonding with her for over an hour, seeing Y/N drive down the driveway towards work from the kitchen window with a smile. Discussing his ideas for the date, telling her about his family and the dream he always had about running away to a place like this.

“Fate is funny like that, she knows what you need and when you need it,” Bob cut into the conversation, listening from the back door for a few minutes. “you're here for a reason, Spencer.”

He felt like he was on the set of an old movie about family love that always had a happy ending, he didn’t believe that any of it was real. For a second he wondered if he’s been in a coma for the last week, that this was all just a fever dream after crashing his bike on the way to the park, it was all too perfect.

He thanked them for breakfast with a hug, becoming a hugger to fit into her family and he didn’t even mind it. It was nice to be loved truly, not just because they were obligated to, but because they wanted him in their family.

—

His next stop of the day was Penelope’s apartment, he knocked on the door softly and waited patiently for her to answer, smiling wide at the surprise of Spencer behind her door.

“I need your help,” he says before she can even welcome him.

She was still in her robe, a sleep mask over one eye and her hair standing in every direction known to man “what did you do?”

“Nothing, I need a womanly touch for the date I’m planning,” he admitted, turning pink at the embarrassment of coming to her for this.

“What’s the plan?”

“Can I tell you on the way there?”

She raised her eyebrows, “come in and give me a few minutes, you can explain why you’re wearing a ring while I change…”

“For not being a profiler, you sure are good at this,” he avoided her question as he walked into her apartment, sitting right by her bedroom door so he could talk to her through the door.

“It’s a really long story, but essentially her fiancé died when she was 23 so she’s terrified of real weddings and wanted to just tell me she loves me and call me her husband without waiting or making a big fuss about it all,” he explained it as simply as possible. Not sure if he should tell her about the chat he had with Derek. “And we found out I might be Amoreena’s real father anyway.”

She peaked her head out the door, nothing on now and not wanting him to see. It wasn’t like she got naked when she was drunk and shown him everything before, he just laughed as she smiled at him. “If you need help tracking down any other kids, I can do it?”

He felt a little betrayed but he understood, Derek and Penelope had a bond where secrets never slipped out but they did tell each other everyone else's, “he told you?”

“No, I knew you donated because they did a background check into you at the bureau, and I was the one who had to send them the files,” Penelope admitted. “I wanted you to be the one to tell me, but I don’t think you ever would have.”

He shook his head softly, “I just wanted a family one day however I could get one, and when Rossi met Joy I knew it could bring me the same kind of happiness he has with her and Kai."

“You’re going to be a wonderful dad Spencer,” she tried to not get all teary-eyed as she stood behind the door with nothing on, “anyway continue?”

She slipped back into the room and the two of them continued to yell their gossip back and forth through the door before she finally walked out in her most Penelope outfit to date, “and we’re taking my car. It’s top-down weather, finally.”

It’s not that she was a bad driver, it’s just she barely followed any rules. She drove too fast and passed people when she shouldn’t and it stressed Spencer out, but he was too in love to really be bothered by it today. Taking an hour-long journey to Richmond, pulling into the Edgar Allen Poe Museum.

He was a member here, paying them every month to take care of the grounds and the cats, even tracking down some rare pieces from Poe’s collection to donate to them. He was their favourite customer and patron, and they were very excited for him to finally introduce his new love to one of his favourite places ever.

He rented out the Enchanted Garden for Thursday night, being trusted there alone after hours and granted a key to lock up before he left. Penelope and he picked out lights and blankets, what kind of dinner they’d have and drinks.

“So I’ll make sure your picnic basket is all ready and here waiting for you to arrive,” Penelope planned, reading through the list of things she was going to do to help on Thursday afternoon. “What kind of wine does she like?”

“Oh,” Spencer took a second to think, she might want some wine but she’s also hoping to get pregnant, it could help but it could be a hindrance, he didn’t know how to reply.

“Does she not drink?”

“Can you keep a secret?” The second time he asked that question this morning.

“No fucking way,” she whispered, smacking his arm. “Already?”

“No, I’m not sure, we only tried yesterday,” he feels the anxiety in his chest as he explains it, “It doesn’t work that fast which is why I don’t know if we should.”

“Believe me, wine is a good baby-making tool,” she smiled. “I’ll add some anyway and if she does, she does, if she doesn’t oh well, you know where I live.”

It was so easy with Penelope, she understood everything he did without questioning him. Rooting for him and his future family behind closed doors, always trying to get him with someone in the years she knew him, wanting him to get all that “sweet, sweet loving” Derek raved about.

“Do you think she’ll like this? Be honest.” His anxiety slipped back up his throat and past his vocal cords.

Penelope wrapped him up in a big hug, remembering the statistic that people with Autism and anxiety sometimes relaxing better when held with a certain pressure applied. It worked every time.

“She loves you, you wouldn’t be trying for a baby or wearing that ring if she didn’t,” reassuring as always.

“Do you know anything about Taylor Swift?”

It makes her laugh as she pulls back, “why?”

“She’s Y/N and Amoreena’s favourite person on the earth, I know nothing about celebrities, you know that, and I was thinking about getting them tickets or something this summer if she’s doing anything?” He was desperate to do anything to make his girls smile. “I need a Taylor Swift crash course, is there a new Taylor Swift fan for dummies book?”

“Spencer Reid, do I have news for you,” Penelope wrapped her arm around him once again as she rocked him back and forth with glee, “Rossi’s stepdaughter is her is a socialite in New York and one of miss Swifts friends… let's see what we can do.”

And with that, they left the museum with Penelope's arm still wrapped around him as they went back to her car, listening to Taylor Swift while she spat facts out to Spencer, helping him learn everything he could for his wife and kid.

—

He was the only one home when Amoreena got off the bus, running into his arms and giving him a big hug, “Dad!” She cheered the second he held her, kissing the top of her head as he carried her back to the house. “Where is mom?”

“She’s out buying a new dress for a date we’re going on,” he couldn’t help but over exaggerate his voice when he talked to her, it made it more magical for her little world. “How was school?”

“Awesome!” She swooned, “we started our fathers day presents early cause we won't have class after next week.”

He playfully gasps, stopping abruptly in his tracks to look at her in shock, “You can’t tell me anything about it, they’re supposed to be surprise gifts!”

“I know,” she laughed wrapping her arms around his neck and leaning against his shoulder while they walked, “I just wanted you to know one is coming, you always tell me about your gifts early, like at the museum.”

“Well, thank you for telling me,” he kissed her soft forehead softly before smiling.

She was so smart, her mother had raised her to be the most caring and considerate child. She picked up on everything, she wanted to please everyone, she was the sweetest ever.

“Do you have any homework tonight?”

“Nope! Can we watch a movie?”

He just held her cheek to his in a hug while they walked, “of course my sweet Amoreena, what would you like to watch?”

“It’s a surprise,” she whispered, struggling out of his arms and to the ground before running towards the house without him.

He walks in to see her standing in front of the tv with the remote, flipping through the channels and opening Netflix. Going to her mom's profile, down to the watchlist and clicking on the Taylor Swift Reputation Tour before taking off up the stairs to go get something.

“We made this a few months ago,” it was a piece of paper that she handed to him. “It’s the rules for when mom finally got a date, you’re her boyfriend right?”

He opened the folded lined paper, “I am,” he smiled.

Boy/girlfriend rules:

Must be royalty of some kind (or smart like a wizard)

Has to know all the words to Taylor swift’s songs

Likes to read books all the time

Have to like all the candy Amoreena doesn’t so that someone can eat the leftovers from her Halloween candy bag.

Has to be able to name all the Disney princesses

Must like cats. No if’s and's or butts.

It made him laugh, every rule was clearly Amoreena’s idea and Spencer must have ticked off all the boxes if she’s calling him dad already.

“You have to learn all the words to Taylor Swift, then you’ll be her boyfriend for real,” Amoreena informed him. “We have to follow the rules.”

“Well then, put the captions on so I can sing along,” Spencer compromised.

She hugged him with a big smile “you’re the best dad in the world.”

“You’re the best daughter,” he whispered as he held her back. “You make every day better by just being here.”

“So do you,” she replied before kissing his cheek softly and settling onto the couch beside him. “Thank you for wanting to be my dad.”

“I wouldn’t want to be anyone else’s.”

tag list: @shemarmooresfedora @spencers-dria @spookyspence @reidsfish @manuosorioh @mochionly @samuel-de-champagne-problems @jswessie187

[egcdeath]

checkmate

summary: you’ve always refused to lose, and love was no exception. (gone girl-ish au)

pairing(s): ransom drysdale x dark!reader, a special mystery guest ;) 

word count: 3.7k

warnings: 18+ because of heavy themes! faked death, framing of crimes, manipulation, alluding to sex, alluding to cheating, terrible relationship dynamic, very loose usage of the word crazy/psychotic, implied mention of self harm, brief choking & slapping (in a non sexual way lol), pregnancy trapping (idk if thats the right term), the reader is a very bad human being, overuse of italics  *please let me know if i’m missing any warnings!

author’s note: this is my 2nd submission for @stargazingfangirl18’s 5k soft dark challenge, i decided to make the reader dark >:) but ransom is also not a good person. I used these prompts: “I’ve waited a long time for this, sweetheart.” & The town golden *girl isn’t as sweet as everyone thinks.

this is definitely the most unhinged thing i’ve ever written, but blame @literate-lamb for making me write this because when i pitched this to her and said that i’d probably never write it, she enabled me. 

okay that's enough from me. join my taglist if you want :D

“I know women whose entire personas are woven from a benign mediocrity. Their lives are a list of shortcomings: the unappreciative boyfriend, the extra ten pounds, the dismissive boss, the conniving sister, the straying husband. I've always hovered above their stories, nodding in sympathy and thinking how foolish they are, these women, to let these things happen, how undisciplined. And now to be one of them! One of the women with the endless stories that make people nod sympathetically and think: Poor dumb bitch.” Gillian Flynn, Gone Girl

Your whole life, you’d considered yourself a competitive person. Constantly overcompensating for one thing or another, whether it was the chronic desire to achieve perfection that had been installed in you since you were a little girl, or your persistent internalized sense of inadequacy. You realized early on that it was much better for you to win than for you to lose, no matter the physical, emotional, or mental cost of the prize of perfection.

For the most part, this mindset worked out for you. You graduated as Valedictorian from your high school, neared the top of your graduating class at Harvard. God knew you earned it, all those tears you shed into overpriced textbooks, all the popping of unprescribed Adderall, and robbing yourself of the parties and social events that the rest of your peers gladly indulged in. 

You were just different, which was why you gained a job nearly immediately after your exit from school, quickly climbing to the top at the Blood Like Wine publishing company after only a few years of being there. 

And one night, at the party celebrating the release of A Thousand Knives when you laid your eyes on Hugh Ransom Drysdale, the grandson of your boss, you knew that you needed to have him. Rich, hot, a bit of an asshole. You deserved to finally complete your image, and that socialite flavored eye candy seemed to fit the part perfectly. Luckily for you, he was desperate. It only took a few tugs on your dress’ V-line, and a number of knowing smirks to find yourself being finger-banged in his family manor’s bathroom.

From there, you wormed your way into his life. Leaving belongings at his place as an excuse to come back, and offering booty calls in the middle of the night. Ransom must’ve been much more desperate than you originally thought, as it really only seemed to take one night of stroking his hair while he vented about his family to make him want to be with you. Men with mommy issues were always so easy. 

Except, he wasn’t that easy. The longer you got to know Ransom, the more fucked up you realized he really was. He had no boundaries at all, became jealous and enraged at the drop of a pin, and occasionally told you things that made the hairs on your arms rise. 

This of course all came to a head after the night of Harlan’s 85th birthday party. When the news broke of his tragic death, you’d immediately known it was the works of your Hugh. If your intuition wasn’t enough, his confession in the shower, where he’d demanded you take off your clothes to display that you were without a bug, certainly was. 

You were completely devastated. The man that you’d invested so much into for years had thrown both his and your reputations down the drain in just a matter of hours. Of course, you felt bad for Harlan too. He was a good guy (when he wasn’t instigating a family fight).

Still, you showed up during the funeral in your best mourning clothes and dawning your biggest crocodile tears. You rubbed Linda’s back while she mourned the loss of her father, and the new truth about her husband. You played dumb when interrogated by some Southern private investigator, even giving Ransom an airtight alibi. You testified on his behalf in court with enough conviction to grant you an Emmy. 

You’d gotten so far, devoted so much energy into him, that you simply refused to lose now. 

To your friends, you’d seemed to lead a near perfect life. Dream job, dreamy boyfriend, dream bank account, but it wasn’t enough. You wanted more, you just didn’t know what. 

It dawned on you while sipping mimosas at the country club, Ransom playing tennis with his friends just a few yards away from you while Danielle showed off her brand new engagement ring, a .59 Carat Asscher Diamond, that if you heard her speak of again, would probably make you lose your shit.

You zoned out as she droned on and on about the shape, and how Matt proposed to her in their own private room in one of the most exclusive Parisian restaurants, instead focusing on how you could find yourself in the same position as that airhead next to you. In all honesty, you couldn’t stand the idea that someone was doing better than you, let alone someone in your own social circle. Dani got all the bragging rights of being engaged to the heir of some tech giant, being the first in your friend group to get eloped, and worst of all, Matt wasn’t even making her sign a prenup. 

You blankly watched Ransom from afar, taking occasional sips from your sweet drink, while you thought of how you deserved all of that and more, and you were going to get it one way or another. 

——

It didn’t take much to come up with something, your first and most obvious plan being to simply ask Ransom when he was going to propose to you. Of course, this wasn’t the first time you’d tried to approach him about this subject, you just wondered if maybe this time things would be different.

Panting heavily after a rather rough night in bed, you rolled off of your boyfriend’s chest and gave him a messy, yet sincere kiss. You knew your man well, and if there was any time to pop the question, it was in his post-nut haze.

“Baby,” you said breathily, “I wanna ask you something.”

“Shoot,” he responded casually, glancing over at you. 

“When’re you gonna propose to me?” you hummed.

Ransom groaned and shook his head, rolling his eyes, “this is about Matt and Dani, huh?” he tutted, then extended a hand out to your warm cheeks so he could gently caress one with his thumb. “Thought we agreed marriage is just a piece of paper and it’s stupid.”

You huffed in response.

Of fucking course.

“I never said that,” you muttered, setting a hand on his broad chest. “Besides, it’ll be good if you get pissed and decide to like, kill your dad or something. Y’know, spouses don’t have to testify against each other in court.”

Ransom chuckled as if this whole thing was funny, like your feelings were some kind of sick joke to him. “You know my lawyers, babe. They could prove that bees don’t make honey. That bears don’t shit in the forest. I appreciate your attempt, though. This has been some really nice pillow talk.” 

“Whatever,” you muttered, pinching his nipple in retaliation before turning your back to him and yanking the blanket onto your side. 

You weren’t sure why you were so surprised that he was being stubborn, most of the time you felt like you were pulling teeth from the man. But that’s why you had a backup plan! You always had a backup plan. That’s what separated you from your boyfriend. Where Ransom was extemporized and impulsive, you were calculating and prudent. 

Although you devised your plan that very afternoon while watching your partner backhand small green balls, you were going to need some time to get everything in order, to prove Murphy and his stupid law wrong in making sure that everything that could go wrong wouldn’t. 

After all, love was a game. And you sure as hell weren’t losing to Hugh Drysdale. 

——

You sacrificed too much to have your plans ruined by some trust fund baby with impulsivity issues. You deserved your dream marriage, the stability you wished you had as a child. You wanted the white picket fence, and everything that came along with it. Your desire to be the best, to be perfect was what drove you to poke holes in every condom in the box, what led you to draw liters of your own blood in hopes of staging a fake crime scene, to buy a cheap getaway car and burner phone off of Craigslist, and reach out to a high school boyfriend who you knew was in a position as desperate as you. 

You planted seeds of doubt in your friends throughout the following weeks, feeding them lies about Ransom’s behavior, how you were afraid of telling him that you did in fact see two faint red lines on that damn plastic stick– only half of the statement truly being false–, telling them that he was behaving erratically lately.

It all was going without a hitch. Ransom didn’t seem to notice anything was off, despite your frequent visits to the bathroom and newfound affinity for true crime documentaries. 

You almost felt guilty, knowing the world of pain you were about to throw the man into. Granted, he deserved the pain. You were in a relationship with a genuinely terrible person, and that person had made a conscious effort not to commit to you. You tried to make this easy for him, give him a chance to say a few words to you and slide a ring on your finger, but no, he always seemed to take the hard route.

You slept like a baby the night before you were setting your plan in action. You made sure to uphold the facade of everything being fine, making Ransom a nice breakfast before sending him halfway across town to the hardware store with an oddly incriminating list.

Once he was out of the house, you hurried off to the fridge in the garage where you’d been keeping a small stash of your own blood. It wasn’t pretty, but it had to be done. You poured the blood throughout the kitchen, splattering bits of it on the counters and cupboards. You poorly cleaned the mess, just as he would.

You put your next move in motion, falsifying a home invasion. You tossed over a table and some chairs, throwing books and photos onto the floor, but left some aspects slightly untouched, like an upright picture frame to give yet another hint that things were not exactly what they appeared. 

You left a tiny blue post-it note on the nightstand of Ransom’s side of the bed, a quick and simple doodle of a ring along with the first initial of your name inked onto the tiny piece of paper. 

With that, you were off. Technically missing, soon-to-be presumed dead.

----

 The days following your disappearance had gone even better than you’d initially planned. Local news coverage had been all over you, search and rescue groups were assiduously looking for you, your parents had opened a tip line, and begged for you to get home safe on news segments. But the best part of it all was that Ransom had been briefly found himself in police custody, only to be released shortly thereafter. His past of an accused murder quickly made your disappearance even more of a national story, and you watched the whole thing unravel from the safety and comfort of your high school boyfriend, Andy Barber’s Newton home. 

Of course, you fed him the same lies you’d given to your friends, and seeing the rather lonely position he was in, he gladly let you stay with him. You were absolutely having a hay-day with it all, dedicating hours of your day to watching Ransom slowly unravel. Maybe it was a bit sadistic of you to enjoy torturing your partner so much, but he needed to learn his lesson. You deserved better. You needed Ransom to rise up to your level, allowing you to finally complete your image. To let you two appear to be the perfect couple. Really, this was all on him.

Andy, for the most part, had been a good host. He was gone for the majority of the day, dedicating himself to his work while you lounged around on his dangerously cozy couch. Around two weeks into your stay, you were sharing a box of pizza in the living room with your old lover when something interesting on the television caught your eye.

Ransom, broadcasted on CBS, being interviewed on your disappearance. 

You watched with wide eyes as Ransom begged for your return on national television. It was one thing seeing your mother plead for you to come back, the same woman who had installed such toxic behavior in you sob for your return, but Ransom. You’d never loved him more than in that moment.

“Hugh, if you could tell Y/N one thing, what would it be?” the interviewer asked.

Ransom turned, looking straight at the camera, directly into your soul, “Y/N, I love you so much. More than you’ll ever know. I need you to come back safely, to see you, to hold you again. I’d give anything in the world for that right now,” he looked down, a tear falling down his cheek. “I can’t live without you in my life, I-”

His sentence was cut off by Andy grabbing the remote, and turning off the TV. You turned your head and frowned deeply at him.

“Why’d you do that?” you asked with a bit of a pout.

“I just couldn’t stand listening to him talk about you like he hasn’t treated you like shit for the past few years. C’mon, let’s get ready for bed.”

Your blood boiled. Andy was once a means to an end, but now he was interfering. He was clearly much too selfish to see that you and Ransom were quite obviously soulmates. A match made in hell. 

You followed him to bed regardless, curling up on what had been your side of the bed for the past few days, and staring at the wall until Andy’s breaths moved from a soft and rhythmic pattern to loud snores. God, those snores were obnoxious. 

You slipped out of bed and to his dresser, grabbing two soft ties from the drawer, and daintily tying his wrists to each side of the bedpost.

“What‘re you doing?” he mumbled, instinctively yanking both of his wrists as he awoke.

“I’m going back home,” you whispered.

“You can’t be serious,” Andy huffed, tugging on the restraint attached to the headboard.

You shook your head, “I am.”

“I should’ve known. Why would you do something like this? Do you know how much trouble you’ll be in with the law?”

“Do you know how much trouble you’ll be in when the world finds out that you kidnapped me?” you retorted.

This threat seemed to wake him up right away, “what about this was kidnapping? I gave you a nice home, fed you, I didn’t even make a pass at you. I didn’t do shit to you,” he hissed. “You think I can’t prove that? I’m a lawyer, for god's sake!”

You nearly laughed, “Okay, Andy,” you paused for a moment, “As a lawyer, who do you think everyone’ll believe? Someone who the world was on a wild goose chase for in the last two weeks? Or the man with a family history of violence? Must I remind you that your father and your son have killed people?”

Andy shook his head, face pinched in sorrow at the mention of his deceased son, clearly a low blow. “You’re insane,” he muttered.

“Swear to god that you won’t tell a soul what happened here,” you leaned over him, getting right in his face. “Or I promise, Andrew Barber, I will ruin you. You’ll spend the rest of your life behind bars, or disbarred, or whatever the hell I decide to do with you. So keep your goddamn lips shut.” 

You pulled away and he solemnly nodded, not bothering to put up a fight. You loosened the fabric around his left wrist and walked out of the room. You picked up the keys to Andy’s Audi on your way out, checking the time as you adjusted the driver's seat. 

9:45 PM. Fatherhood really changed the man.

You pushed that thought aside and began your drive home, which turned out to be a surprisingly short trip. When you pulled up in front of your home, you were met with a slew of reporters outside of the house, along with a police car that seemed to be permanently camped there.

As you slowly got out of the car, a gasp, followed by a loud silence fell across the crowd. You limped for dramatic effect up the driveway as cameras followed you, and glanced back at them pathetically. From your peripheral view, you noticed the officers get out of their vehicle.

You finally got to your door, ringing the doorbell and waiting. You blinked harshly a few times, conjuring up the tears you needed to really make a spectacle of the event. After a few minutes, Ransom opened the door, eyes widening as he looked at you. He stepped out, and you wrapped him in as big of a hug as you could manage, genuinely missing his embrace. It was possible that you even let out a few real tears in the moment.

Your emotional embrace was interrupted by the man you recognized as Lieutenant Elliott, the same officer who’d been assigned to Harlan’s case. 

“Ma’am,” he began, only to be shut down by you. 

“Please, just let me be with my boyfriend,” you pleaded, crocodile tears streaming down your face as you spoke with the officer. You still needed time to get your story straight.

“Just give us the night, Lieutenant. We’ll come in first thing tomorrow morning,” Ransom added, furrowing his brows at the officer that he’d come into contact with far too many times. 

He looked to his partner, who shrugged, then to you, “enjoy your night.”

Cameras flashed around you as civilians, journalists, and newscasters alike attempted to catch your attention. You grabbed Ransom’s hand and dramatically pulled him inside, insincerely attempting to hide your face by ducking and covering half of your face with your arm. 

As soon as you were in the privacy of your own home, Ransom threw you against a wall. 

“Why. The fuck. Would you pull a stunt like that,” he hissed through gritted teeth, eyes wild, and a hand around your throat. 

You whimpered as he tightened his grip, rage clearly flowing through his system uncontrollably.

“Do you know what you did to me? You almost had me thrown in fucking jail. Do you understand that?”

You nodded weakly, “Ran,” you whispered, “the baby,” you glanced down at your stomach.

He paused, dropping his grip on your neck and staring at you in awe, “no…” 

You nodded again. 

“How…? You told me you were on the pill… You- you made me use protection…”

“Surprise?” you said weakly. 

“You’re a psychotic bitch.”

“I’m your psychotic bitch. And no child of mine will be born out of wedlock,” you taunted. 

“That’s what this is about?” Ransom laughed manically. “You did this all because I won’t fucking marry you?”

You didn’t even have to respond.

“I should send you to the loony bin right fucking now.”

“What happened to all those things you said to me on TV?”

“You’re fucking delusional. I can’t do this.”

“Yes, you can. And you will. I’ve had to put up with you and your stupid little antics for way too long. How do you think I felt when you killed your own grandfather?”

Ransom scoffed, throwing his hands up in exasperation, “you are so fucked up.”

“I’m the fucked up one? You killed your own blood in cold blood! You’re unhinged!” 

“You faked your own death for attention, and got pregnant while doing it! Is that baby even mine?”

“The fuck are you trying to say, Hugh?”

“I asked if it’s even mine.”

“Really. You’re accusing me of cheating on you. That’s rich considering Mia, Layla, and whoever the fuck else. You’re being ridiculous.”

“I’m being ridiculous? You couldn’t have a normal adult conversation with me!”

“Are you kidding me? I asked you time after time to marry me and it was always some bullshit excuse!” you wagged a finger in his face as you spoke. “Oh, commitment scares me, oh, marriage is just a piece of paper, oh-“ you mocked his voice in a deeper tone before you were cut off by the sting of his hand against your cheek.

“Can you shut the hell up?” he growled at you as you held your own cheek, before you reached out and slapped him back, “I can’t believe that I’m stuck with such a deranged bitch for the rest of my life.”

“Maybe work on your vows a little, dear. I don’t think that those words are as charming to me as they’d be to the rest of our family and friends.”

“You can’t be serious,” he groaned.

“But I am,” you hummed, rubbing your cheek softly once again. “Look at how fast your life fell apart without me here. How quickly the public turned on you. Imagine how upset they’d be if you left me. I love you, Ran. I really do. You and I are perfect for each other, can’t you see that now?”

Ransom took a step away from you, pacing slowly in front of you. He ran a stressed hand through his hair, and took a long and drawn out breath, clearly at a loss for words.

“So when should we have the wedding? I’ve always wanted a Spring wedding, and I know it’s a little short notice, but I don’t want to be showing too much in my wedding dress,” you grabbed Ransom’s bicep gently, as if you were just having a regular old day with him, as if you hadn’t been choked and slapped moments ago. “But we can make it work. We always make it work, right?”

Your now fiancé stared vacantly at the wall ahead of him, giving you a slow, empty nod of agreement. 

“It’s settled then,” you smirked. “I’ll start looking at venues. You find me a nice ring, okay Honey? One that puts all those other bitches’ rings to shame,” you sighed pleasantly to yourself, “I’ve waited a long time for this, sweetheart.”

You pressed a soft kiss to his cheek before hurrying up the stairs and into your bedroom. You heard a distant shriek of  “fuck,” from Ransom, but you truly could not care less. 

You hopped into bed, grabbing your laptop from its charger and promptly opening it. You couldn’t help but to smile at your own reflection on the empty black screen. This wasn’t how you imagined your engagement, but you did the impossible. You tied yourself down to Hugh Ransom Drysdale, he went down kicking in screaming, and you were likely in for a lifetime of cheating and resentment, but you did it nonetheless. 

You finally won.  

[jodibodie]

I Have Some Feelings

To start let me just emphasize how much I love and adore this show and always will. This was my covid show. Both of my kids loved “Lucifer” and always said I should watch so at the start of covid I binged it and when I say binged, I mean all 4 seasons in a few days and have rewatched so many times I’ve lost count. I think it is timeless, engrossing, original and all around amazing. The writing and the cast were all excellent. The writing was smart and consistently strong and that is so rare.  Funny, sad, poignant, it hit all the notes with very few plot holes or missteps. There is not one episode in the entire series that was not engaging. Even if I didn’t like an episode, it was still well done. What a rarity.

The cast is scary good. Completely underrated. Just all phenomenally talented.  I don’t remember the last time a cast was this strong.  From the core group to both reoccurring and guest stars, the cast was just fantastic.  

Tom Ellis, no words.  The man deserves to choose whatever he wants to do acting wise. He should have people breaking down his door. He can truly do it all and do it all well. He took a character that if portrayed by a lesser actor could have come off as a complete asshole and made him one of the most sympathetic and loveable characters in recent history. Ellis made a crime solving devil, a promiscuous man-child that occasionally breaks into song and the evidence room into a beloved character that has become an icon.  

Lauren German, WOW.  She is just so damn good. She can break your heart one second and have you laughing the next. She makes Chloe real, and people don’t realize how hard that is. Chloe is smart, kind, tough and gorgeous but she’s also an insecure dork.  She’s us and German just brings it.  

DB Woodside I’ve loved since “Buffy”.  He is a phenomenal actor and who knew he could bring the laughs so well? His expressions were classic. Clueless angel indeed. Amenadiel could have been very one-dimensional but because of Woodside’s talent he became fully fleshed out and full bodied.  

I have no doubt Lesley-Ann Brandt has a huge career in front of her.  She took a character that very well could have been hated, a demon and made her into one of the most human characters on the show. Kudos to her for taking a tough role and making it her own.  

Kevin Alejandro is another actor I’ve loved for a long time.  He also took a character who if we’re going to be honest here did so many unlikeable things that he should have been truly despised but because of Kevin’s portrayal he was beloved. Great actor and a terrific director.

Rachael Harris IMO is the downlow MVP.  She was literally the rock and again, with a lesser actress the role could have been a throwaway. The normal human, the sounding board but Harris imbued her with so much more.  Her spit takes, sarcasm and her obvious compassion was what made Dr. Linda an unforgettable character. Once again just perfect casting.  

Aimee Garcia was a great addition. She made Ella a fan fav and put so much heart, joy and sincerity into Ella never once did you doubt that she would prevail no matter what was thrown at her.  Garcia was just fantastic, and I want her skin care regime.  

Scarlett Estevez pulled off the one thing I thought almost impossible.  She took the role of a young child and made it so I didn’t want to cringe. She portrayed Trixie so beautifully from day one that she was a true pleasure to watch.  Even though Trixie was super precocious Estevez never made her obnoxious. I loved Trixie and I have never said that about any child character in an adult show.  She was wonderful and has an amazing career in front of her.

That said, I’ve got some feelings now that I’ve seen the finale and have had some time to digest it all.  I love that Chloe and Lucifer had eternity and I agree that they had to be separated for Chloe’s lifetime. Didn’t like it but it’s the logical path. She’s human, he’s not. The ageing thing alone necessitated them not being together long term on earth and that’s just to start the list. They had to had to be apart for the short term to get their eternity but the duality of Lucifer's ending and Amenadiel's didn't sit right. Amenadiel as God got to have it all. His calling, his family etc. while Lucifer had to give up everything.  I also don’t buy the “If he came up from hell, he could never leave them again” defense.  I call bullshit.  Amenadiel managed, plus, missing out on the day to day is a huge sacrifice and by Lucifer missing out on the day-to-day Rory could still have had the hatred she needed to drive the story.  Popping in for birthdays, graduations, weddings, etc., the big stuff does not a father make.  Not being there for skinned knees, first heartbreaks, and all the little things a daughter needs her dad for can build up tons of resentment.  Boom, absentee father, just like his dad was. That provides all the millennial angel angst you could ask for. I have a daughter; it doesn’t take much.

The Trixie issue was huge for me. Can Chloe see her in Heaven? Will she be able to travel to Heaven and visit Trixie, Penelope, Dan, her father?  Chloe hesitated leaving Heaven in 5x16 because she couldn’t bear saying good-bye to her dad again. It seems as if Chloe sacrificed everything for Rory including Trixie. I want to preface this by saying. I liked Rory and loved the actress. I didn’t however like how it was as if she were their only child.  When Lucifer spoke of family Trixie was not mentioned. Their family day, the same thing. She didn’t need to be there, I get that the explanation regarding Rory would have been way too much to get into but just a mention of her, how awesome it would have been to share this day with her would have worked. It seemed as if Lucifer went from, “I would do anything to protect that little Urchin” to “Trixie who”. Trixie was a character that we watched grow up and she meant something to us. I hate to say this, but the writers did Trixie and the viewers dirty in this regard.

This show was built around a few premises.  Free will, honesty, redemption, sacrifice and family, both blood and made. The ending completely negated almost all of these.  Chloe and their entire family were made into the one thing Lucifer abhorred the most which are liars. Their daughter was brought up surrounded by lies. What did they tell Trixie?  The poor kid just lost her dad, and she was pissed at Lucifer when he went back to hell the first time. Did she grow up hating him because as far as she knew Lucifer left her mom again without saying good-bye and this time it was even worse because Chloe was pregnant.  I get that the actress who plays Trixie had limited availability but seriously. A quick good-bye.

“Hey Urchin, you won’t understand why for a long time, but I have to leave. You know I never lie so I can’t explain why but know that I love you and your mom and one day I hope you can forgive me.”  

A 30 second scene would have worked.

As all the characters learned throughout the series, omission of the truth is just a form of lying and there are always repercussions i.e., Chloe and Father Kinley, Dan shooting Lucifer, Maze finding out about Lilith and even Ella not being told. As far as free will, both Chloe and Lucifer had their free will taken from them in the end. By Rory forcing them to abide by her wishes, their free will was forfeited. It was a huge manipulation on Rory’s part and considering how much Lucifer hated manipulations it just didn’t sit right.

Parents making huge sacrifices I get. Chloe and Lucifer sacrificed everything for their child. Unfortunately for me this sacrifice, the way it was written seemed contrived to pull out maximum and IMO unjustified angst. I love angst.  Hell, this is my favorite show.  I thrive on the angst. But as I wrote earlier, all the anger, angst and hatred towards Lucifer could have been achieved without having Lucifer completely out of the picture. I have two kids and my husband, and I have made huge life altering sacrifices for them as many parents do but being there for the day-to-day little things was what made the difference in their lives and cemented the close relationships we have with them.

“Yeah, dad you were great. Showing up for the fun stuff, always swooping in for the big finish to play the hero then ditching us when things got tough. When Grandma was dying where were you?  Nice that you showed up for the funeral but the six months leading up to it…we needed you and once again you weren’t there. When T got sick, when Jen broke my heart, blah, blah, blah…”

Even the whole Chloe dying scenario. They could have written it that rage Rory traveled minutes before Lucifer got there. Have him pop in right after Rory comes back. There were so many ways to achieve the end game they wanted other than the way they went. It seemed contrived and as if they took the easy way out to get where they needed to go. The Rory rage that was the catalyst for her traveling back in time and Lucifer finding his calling could still have been accomplished without the whole Lucifer disappearing storyline.

Now that I’ve finished my diatribe there’s a couple of additional things I would like to say.  Lucifer is and always will be one of my favorite shows of all time. There are not enough words to describe the comfort and enjoyment this show has brought me. Thank you, thank you, thank you to the producers, cast and crew. You truly created something special.

To the fandom. Please do not let a polarizing conclusion rip apart the fandom. The only other fandom I was a part of tore itself apart so badly that the FBI got involved.  Hence why I waited for 15 years to dip my toe in again. Everyone invested in this show has the right to their feelings.  Debate is fine, baiting and bullying are not. The Lucifer fandom like the show is very special. Without the fandom we wouldn’t have gotten any conclusion so don’t let opposing viewpoints tarnish what has been a magical journey.  

[guessimwritingficsagain]

To be seen, part One (Frankie Morales x reader)

Summary : Usually, you’d be babysitting your friend Jessie’s son but you had to come into work. Your colleagues are really excited because “the boys” are here, so you get the chance, for the first time, to see what the fuss is about. You probably need to get laid. 

Author’s note : This is gonna be a four or five chapter story, not clear on that yet. Frankie isn’t here much but the endgame is Frankie x Reader. This chapter is really here to set up the reader’s relationships and workplace.

Warning : Harassment 

____________________________________________________________

Chapter One :

« Yup, they’re here, » confirmed Anna, with a wink in Jessie’s direction, before she closed the kitchen’s door and went back to wait on the patrons. You were confused for a moment, but Jessie was jumping up and down in the small space, almost knocking over a bunch of plates she had been cleaning just before. She was vibrating with excitement. 

« You’re finally going to see what the fuss is about ! » She all but screamed. It dawned on you, then. 

The boys. 

So, here’s the story : once in a while, always on a Saturday, four dudes come in, sit down, drink a few beers, chat for a bit and call it a night. There used to be five, apparently, but one of them must have been kicked out of the group, according to Jessie. One of them is usually a little banged up - always the same. One of them always makes a point to flirt with whoever is waiting on them but it’s harmless. They tip well. Nothing special, right ? Except apparently, they’re hot. And Jessie juggles with this job and the kid, and she’s on her own, has been for a while now, so it is a big deal. Apparently. 

You’d been a bit worried with all the fuss she made about those guys, but then you remembered that her last date had been months ago and had ended with her coming home in tears, self-depreciating bullshit spilling out of her mouth, about her life, her failed mariage, the state of her car and the way she drank beer instead of wine and she shouldn’t because wine is more refined. 

So. You’d been worried. But you figured that nothing seemed wrong with those men, and that a little fantasy was harmless and sometimes needed. 

You’d never had first-hand experience with the four guys, though. You worked every other Saturday night but Jessie and you had an agreement with your boss, so you could babysit her kid the Saturday she worked since she couldn’t afford to pay someone. This Saturday, though, you had to make do and find someone to mind Clara because Phil, the cook, was sick and someone needed to replace him. 

You couldn’t cook for shit and Jessie could, so she was in the kitchen, you tended the bar and Anna waited on the patrons. You let her friend get a well-deserved sneak-peek at the table before you made your way back to the counter, making an off-hand, harmless remark that she needed to get laid as you walked through the door. Once you got behind the counter, you took a deep breath and looked around. 

Time to see what all the fuss is about. 

The place wasn’t overly crowded for a Saturday evening, but it was still early. You spotted the table pretty easily. It was one a bit away from the others, isolated, separated from most of the room by the pool but far enough from it not to be disturbed by the players and-

Oh. 

Oh. 

Maybe you needed to get laid, too. 

———

You were staring. You knew you were staring. Hard. But then again who on earth allowed those four men to look that good. Men should never look that good. Men that looked that good were trouble. And three of them definitely looked like trouble. It was written in the way they sat, like they were at home and not in a public space with other people, legs spread wide, radiating confidence. The last one, the one with a cap on his head, was on the shyer side, but still-

Trouble.

Here’s the thing. That dating thing, that wasn’t on your mind. You gave it a shot a few years back. You’d met her in college, and when you’d both ended up with an art history degree that proved to be useless, you’d moved in together, and you’d tried to open a bookshop that crashed and burned in less that two years, and all of your savings with it. Something had cracked in your relationship, then, and you’d both tried to fix it because you’d had a good thing. The break-up hadn’t been ugly, but mending both your broken hearts had taken time. You still called each other from time to time, true to your last promise : when things get easier, let’s not be strangers. It had been her - Linda - who had said it. You hadn’t had the heart, then. Now, five years later, you were glad she had. 

Five years later, you found yourself back in your home state, bartending on a Saturday night, that art history degree still useless but no longer leaving a sour taste in your mouth, a bitter sense of waste of time and money. You hadn’t had a date in three years - he had been nice, really pretty, you’d dated for a while but he’d wanted to become a big Wall Street boy and you just weren’t into that. It might be time to reconsider getting laid if you couldn’t look at a bunch of hot dudes without your brain turning to jelly, though. 

Somebody cleared of throat right in front of you and you snapped out of it, apologizing before getting the man’s order, good that his presence would prevent you from drifting away too much. Then the rush came, and you forgot about the table for a while. 

———

When Anna came back to give you a bunch of orders, she did so with an eyebrow slightly raised in expectation. You knew she wanted your feedback on that table, but you didn’t want to agree with Jessie and her, so you shrugged in a way you hoped looked casual and unaffected. She saw right through your bullshit. 

« Fine », you whispered. « They’re hot. Hot. » 

The patron at the barstool turned his head towards you and you felt your face burn. So much for whispering. Anna only laughed, head tilted back, her blonde hair waving as laughter shook her body. She was 25, beautiful in a traditional way. She was genuinely nice, and always saw the good in people. She was to this world what Jane was to Pride and Prejudice. 

Which is why, when the man sitting on the barstool leaned and said to her :

« You’re a pretty one, too. »

She just smiled and thanked him. Of course, he had to take that as an invitation. This could have been the beginning of a very beautiful story if not for the fact that he was old enough to be his father, knew it, didn’t care, and that this beer obviously wasn’t his first one. You hadn’t noticed when he first sat down but now that he had leaned in, you could smell it. He reeked of alcohol. 

« Wanna grab a drink sometimes ? See where that leads us ? »

Anna politely declined, and made to leave, but he grabbed her arm. You could tell it wasn’t meant to hurt her, just to hold her back, to prevent her from leaving, but you felt yourself tense. 

« Sir, » you said in a tone you hoped sounded firm and steady, « I’m going to ask you to leave my colleague alone. » 

He turned his head towards you and Anna took the opportunity to free herself from his grasp. She looked at you a second, a silent question (are you gonna be okay ?), and seemingly satisfied by your slight nod, she took off. 

« You’re not bad yourself, you know. » 

Steeling yourself, you turned to the patron. 

« This is inappropriate and I’m not interested, Sir. » 

But the man was relentless. When you said no for the third time he started muttering to himself, something about women all being bitches to him. You were getting really tense, and looked around to see where Anna was. She was at the boys’ table, watching you. Actually, the whole table was watching you as one of the men - the beat up one, your mind registered - was walking your way with purpose. 

— —— 

You were staring again, you realized. The man had taken a barstool too, right in front of you, and was waiting for you to say something. Probably a sentence. A coherent sentence. 

« Hi, what can I get you ? » 

Nice. One word at a time. You could do it. 

« Nothing, I just wanted to introduce myself. I’m Benny. » 

He offered his hand. You took it. He was all sharp angles and there was something wild and dark in his eyes, but he had a nice, warm smile. Your hand seemed tiny in his. After a beat, you told him your own name. He gestured behind him, towards the table, still looking your way.

« My pals over there and I were wondering if you were new. Never saw you around. »

« I’m not. I guess I’m not around when you guys are. » 

« That’s what your colleague said. »

Bullshit.

He knew you saw right through it, and you tried to convey the fact that you appreciated the gesture without saying anything too obvious. There was no doubt that Benny would have no problem getting physical with the other guy at the counter if needed. But the man in question was standing awfully still, like he got the same vibe off of Benny you did. He’d stopped muttering and was looking very intently at his bottle. Benny kept going, and you soon saw what he was doing. He slightly turned and pointed towards his friends. You noticed Anna had gone back to work. 

« See the blonde guy over there ? That’s my idiot of a brother, Will. Guy with the cap is Frankie. Last one is Pope. » 

You raised your eyebrows at that. 

« Pope ? »

« Sorry, force of habit. His name is Santiago. Santi for short. We used to serve, Pope was his call sign, and I guess it stuck. » 

He shrugged, keeping the conversation light, but the mention of four ex-military casually sitting there and checking on you was enough for the other patron. He got up and left without a word. Your sigh of relief didn’t go unnoticed. 

« Santi saw something was off a while back with that guy, when he grabbed your colleague … »

« Anna », you automatically corrected.

« When he grabbed Anna, » Benni obliged. « She confirmed when she came to take our orders. » 

« Thank you. » 

You were used to dealing with that kind of stuff, but it was nice to have back-up, especially when the usual one wasn’t there. Normally, you’d go to Phil in the kitchen, but today, Jessie wouldn’t have been much of a match against a drunk guy would wanted some. Jessie, who was standing, you saw, right outside the kitchen door, gaping at you. 

« I never got your order », you stated, turning your attention back to Benny. 

He gave it again and you smiled. 

« It’s on the house. » 

———

« So his name is Benny. The blonde one, Will. That’s his brother. Then Santiago and Frankie. »

« Yes but which one is Santiago and which one is Frankie ? » all but whined Jessie. 

You were closing the place. Anna wasn’t saying anything but you could tell she was listening intently. 

« A bit too old for you, aren’t they ? » You quipped. 

She just laughed. 

« No harm in looking. » 

She was right. No harm. Meanwhile Jessie, arms waiving all around, complained :

« How come I tried to get their attention for weeks and something happens the first time you see them ? » 

« Yeah, it was a real pleasure to get harassed. I made sure it happened for the attention. All part of a very good plan. »

« Oh come on, » she shoved you playfully « you know what I mean. » 

The parking lot was empty. The cool air around you was quiet except for the occasional sound of a car going down the street nearby. The three of you fell silent, walking to Anna’s car. You kept silent during the drive, too, exhaustion settling in your bones. You knew you were lucky : tomorrow was your day off. Neither Anna nor Jessie had that chance. You’d be sleeping on Jessie’s couch tonight, just so you could babysit Clara. Your foggy brain betrayed you, then, and a bad thought came to you like a stab in the back :

When was the last time you saw a movie ? Went to an exhibit ?

You buried it, like you did every time you reminded yourself you were not where you thought you’d be at your age. When Anna pulled over in front of Jessie’s house, you thanked her and waited, silent again, as Jessie thanked her babysitter, winced as she paid her - you knew that was not something she could afford - and went to check on her sleeping girl. You were making yourself at home, preparing the couch for the night, thoughts of Benny and other hot dudes, ex-military guys entirely forgotten when you heard, soft and broken :

« I know it’s silly. This whole thing. I just … I wish someone would look at me, you know. » 

`

Jessie was standing in her living room, lost and desperate. You stopped, right then. The bags under her eyes were dark. She wasn’t going to cry, you knew that. The way she spoke, with finality, like she was convinced no one would look at her ever again, made your exhausted body tremble with anger. You closed the space between the two of you and held her for a while. 

Later, as you were plugging your phone, you saw a text from Linda. 

Hey, just checking on you. Everything good, these days ? Saw that French movie you told me about. It’s great ! Seen it yet ? I know you were excited. Don’t be a stranger ;)

You thought back on Jessie’s words. Somebody, at some point, had looked at you. Had seen you for who you were and had embraced every one of your qualities and your flaws. You didn’t miss it. It didn’t hurt anymore. But you remembered how beautiful it had been. Jessie’s marriage was never like that, from what you could tell. If you picked up the phone right now and called Linda, she would be there for you. If Jessie picked up the phone, all she’d get would be a reminder that her ex-husband had changed his number and couldn’t be reached in any way. 

You were lucky, you realized with a sharp sense of guilt. 

You were lucky that you’d had that, with Linda. And you were even luckier that you didn’t need anyone to look at you. You didn’t need anyone to see you for who you were. 

You didn’t. 

You didn’t.

[the-hidden-writer]

And Into The Fire

Chapter 14: Choosing Sides

Summary: Months after the Mitchells saved the world, Linda gets a phone call asking if she’s seen two defective Pal MAX bots. Powerful people are after Eric and Deborabot 5000, and it’s up to the Mitchells to protect them.

Taglist: @squidsushi , @astro-aye , @shitmyex, @sharks-are-friendly, @snakeguy99

Check reblogs for AO3 link!

Choosing Sides

So Mark was having a pretty eventful night as it was, ever since the Evil Warden came back and Katie Mitchell was thrown into his office-prison with him. Not to mention those damn bots turning up earlier. That was a pretty huge development too.

And then the other Mitchells showed up out of nowhere, acting as a perfect distraction to allow the pair of them to escape.

As he watched Katie reunite with his family, Mark had a million thoughts swimming through his head. His own family had practically cut him off since Pal went haywire, and though he could probably patch things up with them, it was going to take some time. He couldn’t help but feel jealous at how the Mitchell family supported one another without a second thought. They had to have a pretty strong bond with one another to be able to do that.

But hadn’t Katie said those bots were part of their family, too..? They even had names: Eric and something-or-other. Were they really that trusting to accept murderous robots into their home?

And, more importantly, whose side was he safer on? The American government or one simple, loving family?

“Get them.” Ward ordered, her voice cold and menacing- nothing like the deceivingly polite woman who’d first marched into his office many months ago.

That’s when Mark made his decision. Despite the fact that they’d just broken into his building, he’d much rather side with the Mitchells. Besides, they saved the world once- they could do it again, right? And if Ward’s ultimate goal really was to mass produce a robot army… the Mitchells were definitely the safest bet.

He couldn’t have another worldwide disaster looming over his conscience.

He’d brought the Mitchells into Lab 3. Not only had it been abandoned since Ward took over, but it also had no security and a small service staircase in the back. A perfect escape route.

And because there was no security, the door was designed to be impossible to break into when locked. Without special equipment, at least. That bought them some time.

As Katie told her story to her family, stuff she’d already told him, it suddenly occurred to Mark that he had nowhere to escape to. Ward would find him straight away if he fled to his house, and his family were off the table at the moment.

...Would the Mitchells take him with them?

“-Hey, Dr Bowman!” A finger was snapped in his face.

“Huh? Yeah?”

Katie sighed in frustration. “Where’s Interview Room 7?”

Oh yeah. Mark had almost forgotten about the bot still sitting in there. The Mitchells probably wanted to rescue it too, but that wouldn’t be easy since…

“It’s right next to the balcony.” He explained. “You can see it from the entrance- it’s basically impossible to get into without being seen and caught.”

“Dangit.” Katie’s Mom, Linda Mitchell, swore. “Are you sure? No secret back-entrance to that room, either?”

“Apart from a mirror attaching it to another room, nope. Sorry.”

Linda groaned in frustration, and their weird little dog let out a yelp.

The room fell into a tense silence. The Mitchells must’ve been thinking about a way to reach the Pal MAX bot, though Mark was perfectly content with just focusing on escaping. At the end of the day, it was just a robot. Robots could be replaced.

“...Those things are really freaking me out.”

“Huh?” Mark looked up to see Rick Mitchell staring at the holograms at the front of the lab. “Oh, those.”

“They’re so realistic!” Rick continued in astonishment. “I thought we were done for when we first came in.”

Katie’s brother whimpered for some reason.

“Well, thanks. They were designed to be realistic.” Mark said, walking toward the four tall figures. “We were planning to use them as an upgrade to the Pal Maxes. As a, y’know, ‘design your own robot helper’ sort of thing, so the hologram would get projected over the bot’s base.”

He smiled wistfully. He’d dreamt about that upgrade being the one that boosted sales tenfold, and the one that would win him all sorts of awards that he didn’t already own.

“But, uh… when all the Pal MAX bots got destroyed, we started repurposing the technology to be made from hard light. So that it didn’t need a base and can be used in escape rooms and haunted houses and stuff to stop actors from getting hurt. That’s why these four look so scary.” He let out a nervous chuckle as he gestured to the costumed holograms. “We, um, didn’t get very far with that though, since Ward showed up…”

Katie slowly walked toward the holograms, seeming to be in awe of them. And though he wouldn’t admit it (being a fan of her work) Mark secretly felt very proud that she was taking an interest in them.

“Are the designs based on real people? Or are they custom-made?” She asked as she pushed her arm through the one in clown attire.

“They’re custom.” He answered. “Every single feature is designed individually. From the hair to the nose to the body type...”

“And they were made to go over the bots?”

Katie was asking very specific questions, and Mark couldn’t help but feel more than a little nervous. She was a bright girl, after all. “...Yeah, the hard light ones are. The ones at the front are just for show, but we manufactured a chip that would let the bot download the update for custom designs. We tested them on spare VR bodysuits first though. Why?”

Her eyes were sparkling with excitement.

“Do you have an idea?” The little boy asked his big sister- who looked as if she was about to burst.

“I think I know how we can get out of here!” She cried.

“How?” Mark asked at the same time as Rick.

After a brief pause, Linda gasped. “You don’t mean…”

“I do mean!” Katie grinned. “It’s perfect, especially if they’re all waiting for us outside the front while we sneak out from the back.”

“Are you sure it will work?” Linda continued with concern. “If the technology hurts him… or if he’s being guarded… and what about Er-”

Rick put a hand on his wife’s shoulder. “There’s nothing we can do about him right now, remember? As long as we escape, we can always come back when he’s in one piece.”

At first, Mark was very confused about who they were talking about. Were there secretly more Mitchells?

Then it hit him.

His entire conversation with Katie earlier, she said they thought those damn robots were family. And if they were talking about his hologram technology and escaping at the same time then that meant…

“Wait, hold on-”

Katie rushed back over to the group in order to hug her Mom. “I think it’ll work. But there’s only one way to find out!”

Comments make my day! :)

[forestlingincorporated]

Bernard Dowd

DC made me do it. Fandom made me do it. So here it is, the character retrospective I never thought I’d ever write. 

Bernard Dowd was introduced on December 17th, 2003, in Robin #121. Tim has recently transferred to Louis E. Grieve Memorial High School, his fourth school since his introduction when he was 13; Tim is 16 now, and was recently forced to drop out of Brentwood due to his father’s bad investments loosing them their upper class status. Jack and Dana Drake are still alive. 

Bernard Dowd is the first person Tim meets when transferring to this new school. Bernard picks him out of the crowd as new, and immediate tries to determine what Tim’s clique is, only to determine, as we all know, Tim is pretty much impossible to cleanly box. 

Bernard thinks very highly of himself. He views himself as also being above cliques, and wants to give Tim the impression that he’s “runs the school.” He thinks of himself as a cool guy, and he doesn’t like to be called “Bernie.” 

His attempts to befriend Tim are rather presumptive in a way that comes off as rude. He treats Tim like a lost little lamb in need of guidance. 

So, Tim ends up casual friends with Bernard. In fact, at this point in time, Tim says he’s his only friend at school. 

Bernard has a crush on fellow classmate and lowkey daughter of a crime boss, Darla Aquista. (Yes, that Darla Aquista, of TimSteph relationship drama fame.) He is the one to introduce Tim to Darla, and Tim embarrasses him by calling his bluff over whether or not he’d actually ask her out if her jock friends were removed from the picture. This is when you start to get the feeling Bernard might be all talk and bravado. He’s not the cool, confident, popular guy he makes himself out to be. 

After Tim looses Robin, he invites Bernard over for dinner with his family. His and Tim’s relationship seems... complicated. On the one hand, Tim likes him enough to invite him over to his house, and he’s probably Tim’s closest friend during a period of time when his other relationships are distant (friends at other schools) or cut entirely (the hero community). That said, Bernard is CLEARLY depicted as... skeezy, and skeezy about people in Tim’s life, in a way Tim doesn’t appreciate. 

Months later, if the passing of seasons is to be believed, Bernard is the person to inform Tim that there’s a new Robin. Tim seems to have a larger friend group at Louis E. Grieve, he’s worked out a friendship with Darla even though she still seems to have a slight crush on him, and seems to be friends with several of the footballers, but he still has time for Bernard. 

Bernard believes wild conspiracies that Batman works for a shadow government and owns secret orphanages full of Robins that only last for about three days before they die and get buried in secret government graveyards. 

We don’t see Bernard for a while after this. Darla Aquista is shot at school, dying in Tim’s arms. Stephanie Brown’s death is faked. Tim’s father dies, and his stepmother is in such mentally bad shape she has to be checked into a special clinic in Bludhaven, so Tim transfers to John Wayne High School, his fifth school since he was 13. 

A lot of shit goes down between the school shooting and the next (and last) time we see Bernard in Robin #140. He’s meeting up with a girl named Linda, when his vehicle is destroyed by none other than Darla Aquista, back from the dead as Warlock’s Daughter, who is looking for Tim. 

After she scares the shit out of him, they go to Gotham Grille for age-appropriate drinks, and Bernard tells her that the high school closed down after the shooting and all the students’ families received settlement money. With that money, Bernard attended an unnamed private school. 

He offers to help her become a superhero, which she turns down. While he’s pretty rude to Linda over the phone, he’s depicted softer here, He seems earnest in his desire to help Darla, even if he still has an underlying bit a selfishness. I personally feel like he comes off a little less like the Annoying Try Hard he started out as, and has a bit more Booster Gold-esque charm to him. 

But, we never see him again, after he helps her track down Tim’s new address with his Fake Uncle, so he was lost to the pile of Tim’s former normal boy friends to be forgotten. 

UNTIL BATMAN: URBAN LEGENDS! 

Right now, everyone is excited because Batman: Urban Legends #4′s been released and Tim Drake has some strong Might End Up Coming Out As MLM Soon? vibes. He’s got this Discovering New Things About Himself arc in this comic that’s framed in a very Gay Coded way. Focusing on a gay male couple with the dialog box “like me” over it, Barbara talking about how he’s afraid looking too deeply at himself might “change” him, stuttering over how his old friend “looks,” and of course this pseudo date he’s goes on with Bernard. 

I cannot actually analyze the whole comic in depth, because I don’t own it; I ordered the trade, so I won’t be receiving it until December. This is what I’ve gathered from screen shots of this comic alone. I don’t think Urban Legends is technically in the main canon, but I would not be surprised if this was a test to see how audiences respond - like Joker shooting Barbara Gordon in The Killing Joke (which isn’t canon) resulting in Barbara Gordon’s very canon paralysis. 

There’s some speculation at the moment that Bernard himself might actually be evil, or working for the bad guys. I think it’s equally possible he might be targeted by the bad guys, and not necessarily evil himself. But neither scenario would particularly surprise me, it seems unlikely he would be reintroduced as solely a potential love interest for Tim, if that is indeed the route they’re going down. Consider old flames of Bruce’s that get reintroduced, they’re often connected to the plot in some way. 

I... have not exactly sugar coated that I don’t like Bernard. Honestly, I AM trying to be fair. THIS Bernard seems lovely, from the screen caps, but my most recent experience with Bernard was a recent reread of the Robin series, and I just don’t find him historically likable. Some people may disagree, but I personally think some of those some people are maybe going back after reading THIS comic and rereading him with rose-tinted glasses he hasn’t quite earned. 

So, I personally am not going to start shipping this, at least not right now, though I am putting on my clown make up getting my hopes up that Tim might come out as gay or bi. I’m personally hoping he’s gay, but that’s just me seeing a lot of myself in Tim, and projecting my own experience with compulsory heterosexuality onto him, and I think it would be interesting to explore that with an established character. I would still be happy with bi/pan Tim Drake, and I think that would probably make the most people happy - fans of Tim’s opposite-sex ships get to win, and fans of Tim’s queer ships get to win, and bi/pan people would get a big name character as representation. What would make the most people angry, is if this ends up as a queerbait during Pride Month of all things. 

I... have no hope they might make him demisexual, I don’t know if DC even knows what that word means. 

[michaelgrayyy]

One of us (9)

Michael Gray x Reader/ Peaky Blinders x Reader 

Master list - https://michaelgrayyy.tumblr.com/masterlist 

As soon as Michael was out the door you took a swig of you drink before following him out, Tommy gives a sigh as you pass him but doesn't stop you. You see Michael just about to get in the car before you call out to him, his face flashes with hope as he takes his foot from the step walking back towards you. Now he’s here again you don’t know what to say, you were hurt about the information you’d been told, you’d have been devastated If Tommy had been shot. But mostly it scared you, thinking back to how loyal Michael had been to Tommy during your time in the village when you used to refuse to go see Tommy and he always tried to convince you.

“Come with me” he breaks the silence seeing your internal struggle, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I can’t. You know I can’t” you reply looking at the ground not wanting to see his expression, he grabs your chin tilting your face up to look at him.

“I mean when this is over, when you’re beat the Italians. Come to me in New York, we can start a new life” he pleads with you and you feel guilty seeing him genuinely vulnerable and not afraid to beg you. You shake your head not trusting your voice and his shoulders drop as he looks at the ground letting your  chin go. With the last bit of courage you can gather you surge forward catching his lips with your own, not caring about the pain in your side knowing its going to hurt more letting him go. He kisses you back urgently, gripping your side as you hear the cane drop to the floor, he pulls away when he feels your tears drop down on to his shirt. He looks at you with creased brows as he wipes your cheeks and you step back.

“Sorry” you whisper out stepping back further out his reach, he looks at you hurt before looking behind you and picking his cane up and walking towards the car. With one last look back at you, he climbs into the car leaving. You turn behind you to see Tommy stood in the doorway, you rub your hands over your face letting out a sigh before carrying on down the path away from the house, Tommy watches you letting out his own sigh. You head to the Garrison, seeing Isiah already at the bar as you raise your hand to the bartender and he pours you a glass of Tommy’s gin that was always kept behind the bar for you. Later, Polly comes to take you home after Isiah sends someone to get her after you throw a glass at some guy you hear laughing at a nearby booth. She takes you back to the house where she helps you sober yourself up with herbal tea she’s made, before telling you to go bathe before tomorrow. 

You wake the next day feeling rested, clearly the herbal tea did its magic as you don’t even have a slight headache. You sit up on the small bed before starting to get ready, today is Arthur’s funeral, you pick up the black dress hanging on the door and place it over your head. Brushing your hair and placing some lipstick on before walking downstairs, still moving slowly with you sides but noticing its getting better, or you’ve just gotten used to the aching. Polly greets you fixing her make up in the mirror, you go make a pot of tea needing something. You pour her a cup taking it over to her, she smiles at you leaning over to give you a kiss on the cheek, you give her a small forced smile back. Finn walks in wearing a suit and his peaky hat, you and Polly head out with him. When you make it there you see the rest of the family all in black amongst the gypsy carriages, you pull out the hip flask you managed to grab before you left but it gets plucked from your hands by Isiah. 

“What the-” you turn to him glaring as he helps you out the car

“Not yet” he replies pocketing the flask as you frown, you all walk over to the others Tommy and Ada walking over to you all. Ada hugs Polly before coming over to hug you, you return the hug giving her a small smile. You walk away from the group heading over to the carriage Arthur’s in, placing your hand to your lips to kiss before placing your hand on the carriage and bowing your head as you say a little prayer for him. You weren’t especially sold on any religion but give him a prayer out of respect for his beliefs. Not wanting to talk to anyone you head over to the horses at the side of one of the other carriages, you stroke their neck as they try to nibble at your dress. You bend down picking some grass up for them as they take it from your hands, thinking about days in the countryside you used to be able to enjoy with Tommy, Arthur and John. You don’t notice Tommy walking over to you stood alone with the horses until he’s at your side scratching one of the horses necks, you look over at him.

“Will it ever stop, losing everyone we love?” you ask him and he carries on stroking the horse not looking at you deep in though as usual. He looks over at you seeing your watery eyes.

“It’ll be okay, he’s here” Tommy says looking at you as if trying to tell you something, but you just think he means the usual Arthur will always be with us. You nod not understanding before walking back with him over to the others, you stand beside Finn and Isiah watching Charlie and Curly pouring petrol around the carriage. You all look over when you see a women approaching with a white flag, Tommy walks over to speak to her before heading back over so you can finish the ceremony. He goes over to light the fire as you all stand watching the flames all in silence, you hear Linda praying and you turn to Isiah reaching into his pocket to grab your flask before taking a swig. 

After the funeral you head back to the house to speak to the women, who you now recognise at Luca Changretta’s mother, with Tommy, Finn and Polly. 

“Your note talked about making terms for peace but my son says there are no terms. You took my husband and my son. We took two of your brothers” she says 

“The vendetta is done” Tommy replies

“We say the vendetta is won. We will take everything you have. All your businesses, signed over to us. You agree to this or my son will kill you all. One by one.” she carries on as you share a look with Finn. Tommy nods not giving an emotions away.

“The vendetta is won. No more killing.”

“Who did you think you were, Mr. Shelby?” She gets up heading out, she passes you and you want nothing more than to put a bullet between her eyes but you don’t move as she passes. You turn to the others.

“Can I have a word with Tommy, please?” You ask the others, Tommy nods for the other two to leave and you sit across from him where Luca’s mother sat.

“What is it, y/n?” He asks pulling out a cigarette lighting it and passing it to you before getting himself one. 

“I know you have a plan, that you aren’t just rolling over like you claim you are...I know you and I trust you. I’m not asking to know the plan, honestly I’d rather not know, but can you please remember the promise you made me. I want to be there when he comes here, its only a matter of time” he nods his head, he clearly already had the intention of letting you join him to meet Luca. You both sit in silence for a few minutes just allowing the peace, neither of you moving except to smoke your cigarette. You finish putting out the end out on a nearby tray before breaking the silence again. “Alfie sold us out didn’t he?” you ask already knowing the answer.

“He’s left town” he says nodding and you sigh getting up, you know he already knows where he’s gone as he doesn’t make an attempt to find him. You walk over to him as he still stays sat placing a hand on his shoulder he looks up at you.

“We can’t lose anyone else” you say before walking out.

As the next few days pass you hear about the Italians taking over Alfies and Sabini’s, you wait for news on the plan from Tommy as you take care of you work at Shelby’s limited taking over Michaels accounting works and trying to sort through some of Arthur’s. The phone on your desk rings and you answer. 

“Y/n” your breath catches when you hear Michaels voice on the other end of the line

“Michael.... are you okay?” you reply back keeping your voice low he doesn’t respond for a moment. “Is everything okay? Are you hurt?” you worry 

“I’m okay. Just calling to let you know I made it, can’t talk long” he says and you sigh in relief.

“I’m sorry, that you had to go, but it’s for the best. The Italians are taking over the city” you mumble out not knowing what to say to him, you were sad he’d left and you missed him more than you thought you would. You try and keep yourself talking knowing if you go quiet too long he’ll know you are struggling with everything going on and you don’t want to worry him. You quickly talk to him about the business and he tells you a bit about his place in New York trying to describe the fast paced city to you, but then you both fall silent not knowing what else to say.

“I’m sorry, about Arthur” he says quietly and your chest tightens, you don’t respond and you hear him sigh on the other end. “Stay safe, y/n” you nod but remember he can’t hear you.

“I will. You too” you reply and you both hang on the line a little longer both waiting for the other to add something else on, but neither of you do. You hang up the phone, trying to get back to work with a troubled mind. 

The next day you are stood behind Tommy, beside Finn and Polly as they walk in, Luca Changretta and his men. He laughs when he walks in seeing you all stood there, a special smirk forming on his face when he see’s you are still recovering from his beating.

“All that's left of the Peaky fucking blinders” he says walking over to stand in-front of Tommy, you stare back at him not moving. He clicks his fingers and his lawyer walks over to the table placed in the centre of the room, he sets out paper work and Luca walks back over. “I’ve had my lawyer draw up these papers. They cover, every enterprise in your possession. Bars, restaurants, warehouses.. every fucking thing that you’ve taken all these years to gather together. You will sign them all over to my family or, you're going to die, right here, right now.” He walks back over to Tommy. “I would have buried you all. But, my mother, she knows you. She said it’ll be worse for you if I let you live and take away everything that you have.” he opens Tommy’s jacket looking for any weapons. “Search ‘em”  he says pulling out Tommy’s gun. He moves over to Polly and you move closer to Finn out of instinct. “Especially don’t trust this bitch” he says ripping Polly’s blouse. He looks over at you with a smirk, he motions for you to walk over to him and you look at Finn before walking over to Luca. He smirks at you as you stop in-front of Polly. “Come on” he says and you. walk towards him trying to hide the slight shake in your hands. The men step over to search Polly and Finn, as Luca searches you over in front of Tommy. Making a point of being disrespectful, he rips your blouse as he did with Polly and you keep a poker face but feel your lip tremble ever so slightly. He spins you around so you are facing the others as he traces your legs checking for weapons, you keep your eyes locked onto Tommy as Luca’s hands roam over you. You bite your lip and Tommy clenches his jaw but you keep eye contact with him, keeping you calm as Luca pushes you away. You make a point not to stumble as you walk back over to Finn’s side, he reaches for your shaking hand behind your backs giving you a reassuring squeeze as the men walk back over behind Luca. 

“So...Sign. Every fucking one of ‘em” he says throwing a pen on the table looking at Tommy. “You can sign them on your knees, on the floor” he says pushing the papers on the floor. Tommy doesn’t move, so he flips the table over. “Get on your fucking knees and sign!” Tommy starts to bend down, getting on his knees. 

“A friend of mine once said, big fucks small. So I had to find someone bigger than you. Now, you may know there are two families in Brooklyn who want to take over your monopoly on the import of liquor into New York.” Tommy starts to say.

“But if they move against you in New York they’ll start a war between the families.” Polly joins in.

“But, if you were to die in a vendetta with some fucking bookmaker in Birmingham, they could take over your business without a war”

“We also contacted a businessman in Chicago. He's also interested in moving into the liquor business in New York.” 

“His name is Alphonse Capone” Tommy reveals. You can see how rattled Luca is and you almost want to smirk knowing Polly and Tommy would have a plan, but you aren’t out of it yet. 

“You've been talking to that fat fuck?” Luca asks trying not to show emotion.

“See all the blood relatives you brought with you from New York, they're all dead, Mr Changretta. And these men here, they work for money, for the highest bidder.” he motions to his men behind him. “They now have new order”

“Is that right?” he turns to the men behind him. “Is that right?” the men shrug and he turns to the man as his second, he looks away. Luca turns back to the four of you. “Very, fucking smart..” he says before trying to pull out his gun, Tommy knocks it out of his grip with a pipe on the ground before standing up to wrestle with him. They fight amongst each other and you go to jump in when he gets a few good hits in on Tommy but Polly stops you. Tommy recovers throwing him onto a table where bottles of gin were as he starts smashing his face into the glass covered table you see the door open in front of them. You let out a gasp when you see Arthur and a sob of relief follows, you can’t take your eyes of him as he walks in flanked by two peaky men and shoots a bloodied Luca in the head. 

“Tell your people in Chicago that Michael Gray will sign the import license to New York. 300 barrels of English Dry Gin a month.” Tommy speak to the men. 

“Leave! All of you. Tell your boss what you saw here today...” Arthur starts telling them as they start leaving.

“Wait!” you call out surprising everyone, Tommy turns to look at you. “You wait a minute” you say pointing to the man who helped beat you, he blinks. “You owe me before you leave” you say walking over to him, he looks past you to Tommy and Arthur but they don't stop you. You pick up the metal bar walking closer to him and you swing at his side with all the strength you have, you swing a few times not stopping till you hear a familiar crack as he groans before coughing and holding his side. You drop the metal bar at your feet as he looks at you with a strained face, you can see his struggle for pain free air as the vain shows in his forehead. You step back showing you are done. 

“Tell him, you don't fuck with the peaky blinders” Arthur finishes as the man walks out of the building slightly hunched over. You walk over to Arthur hitting him in the shoulder before hugging him, he hugs you back patting you on the back. Finn walks over to him next and you step away, stepping over Luca’s body over to Polly as she gives you a smile wiping your fallen tears away. Tommy walks over to you with a open bottle of gin passing it to you as you let out a little laugh mixed with a cry and he leans over to give you a kiss on the forehead before you take a swig. This is what he had been trying to tell you at the funeral, but you didn’t get it. 

[mystewion]

are gay people real

in short:

South Park Elementary School Cafeteria, day. The kids are seated for lunch. At the center table are Stan, Kyle, Kenny, Token, Clyde and Craig. Cartman runs in from the hallwayCartmanFELLAS! Fellas!StanWhat?CartmanYou'll never guess what happened. Butters just beat up Scott Malkinson!KyleButters? [He and Stan look puzzled] Why?CartmanIt was crazy! Scott was just talking about how he needed to take his insulin shot, and out of nowhere Butters said he's sick of people with diabetes feeling sorry for themselves. Scott told Butters to shut up and Butters just started whaling on him!StanYou're talking about Butters.CartmanDude, I'm telling you! Butters beat the crap out of Scott, and then he locked himself in the bathroom! [The other boys get concerned and leave their tables to go to the restroom]The restroom around the corner from the cafeteria. Jimmy has joined the boys. Stan bangs on the doorStanButters?ButtersLeave me alone!StanButters, come out here.ButtersGet out of here, all of ya! [Stan turns to the other boys and shrugs]KyleButters, people can't just go around beating up people who have diabetes! Now whatever your problem is, you just-Butters[Runs out of the restroom up to Kyle and points at him] You just think you know everything, don't you Kyle?! Every little thing you gotta shoot your mouth off like you're the frickin' expert! Well you don't know everything because [walks to Stan and points him out] your best friend is a kid who thinks the entire planet revolves around him and he only cares about HIS image! [runs back inside the boys room, then turns around and runs to Cartman] You guys think Cartman is the only selfish piece of crap in this school? You're all fake and stuck up [moves over to Jimmy], and none of you have the courage to tell Jimmy that his jokes aren't funny! [moves over to Kenny] The only kid here with any sense of dignity is Kenny, and the rest of you have your heads up your butts! [Runs back into the restroom and locks himself in. The other boys are stunned and silent]CartmanWell. Apparently Kenny is Butters' best friend. You guys gonna make out, Kenny? [Kenny flashes an angry look]Butters[Runs out of the restroom again and storms up to Cartman] And that's another thing! You're always trivializing everything I say by gettin' the last word! [Cartman looks stunned]Well you're not gettin' the last word this time! [Runs back into the boys restroom and locks himself in]Cartman...Wow.Butters[Opens the door and peeks out] Double wow! [Closes the door and locks it]The principal's office, Day. Principal Victoria is talking to Butters and his parents.Principal VictoriaI'm sorry, but your son is distracting the other students and his attitude is just getting worse.StephenButters, what on earth has gotten into you?!Butters[In a gruff voice] I don't know, Dad, ah I was just pissed off, I guess!LindaDo you think this behavior is fair to your teacher and classmates?!ButtersI don't suppose it is, but I don't give a darn!StephenDo you have any idea how grounded you are about to be, mister?!ButtersWhy don't you shut up, Dad, and stick it in your ear, for cryin' out loud! [Both parents look taken aback as a moment of silence follows]Linda[looks at Stephen] Stephen, are you thinking what I'm thinking?StephenYes. Our little Butters is flowering. He has reached the age of panua.Principal VictoriaEh-excuse me?StephenPrincipal Victoria, this isn't Butters' fault.ButtersIt's not?!StephenIt has to do with... biology. [turns right and walks off a bit] You've... maybe noticed that Butters isn't... exactly like other kids.ButtersYeah?StephenYou probably think Butters seems somehow... different.Butters[normal voice] Hey yeah, all the time.StephenIt's because he is. [Turns around and faces Principal Victoria] His mother and I... his whole family were... we're not of this place.Principal VictoriaAh I'm sorry, I really don't understand.StephenPlease, just try to understand that for our people it's a very private matter. He can't be helped by your discipline; this must be dealt with by his own kind. If it's all right with you, we'd like an extended leave for our boy. Please. It's a cultural thing.The Stotch house, day. Stephen and Linda argue as Butters sits on the couchLindaI don't want him to go, Stephen, he's too young!StephenIt's our people's way, Linda, you know that better than I do!LindaThen we can go with him.StephenYou know that's not allowed!ButtersWill somebody tell me what the frickity fookshmere is goin' on?!StephenButters, you've reached the age where you must journey to your birthplace for the ceremony of hapa noa.ButtersUhbu-but I'm from here.StephenNo. We moved here just before you started pre-school. You were born in our native land, Butters. [Walks to a bookshelf and grabs a scrapbook] A distant and very secluded island world called... Hava'i.ButtersWe're from Hawaii?Stephen[Sits on the sofa next to Butters. Linda sits to his left] Only haoles pronounce it Hawaii, Butters, but those of us from Hava'i are a very special people. We have many customs and traditions to keep our culture alive. [Opens the book and points some pictures out to him] We drink chi-chi's from the coconut. We eat poke that the Safeway provides. And when we've chosen a mate, we marry at the fern grotto, as your mother and I did so... very long ago. As a Stotch, Butters, you are actually Hawaiian royalty. Your grandma and grandpa were there at the time of the King. [Flips backwards a few pages and shows him a picture of Elvis Presley playing a ukulele with a picture of Diamondhead in the background.]ButtersBut what does being Hawaiian have to do with me acting like an emo chick on her period?StephenNot an emo chick on her period, Butters. Like a salmon needing to swim back upriver. All Hawaiians feel it. It is called "hapahui apahoha", and it means it's now your time to make your trip to our island home. You must do your walkabout to your homeland, Butters. And you must do it alone. [Linda stands up and starts crying. Stephen stands up and takes out his wallet] Take this, son. It is our Mahalo Rewards card. It will provide you with all you need. And now I must turn my back on you. [He turns his back to Butters. Linda weeps silently. Butters is speechless]The neighborhood park, day. The boys from the table are playing basketball, and Jimmy joins in. Kenny tosses the basketball at Kyle, who makes a shot, and Cartman runs up to them from the sidewalk. Stan catches the ballCartmanHoly shit balls! Holy shit balls! Guess what, you guys? Holy shit balls. [The other boys gather around him]KyleWhat?CartmanButters just got on a bus with his backpack and said he's going to Hawaii.StanHawaii?CartmanHe said he had to go back to his homeland, and then told me it was none of my business and to keep my fat mouth shut.KyleDude, what the hell? Somebody's gotta stop him.Stan[Turns to the basket] After all the things he said to us, he can go ahead. [Makes a shot at close range]KyleKenny, you're clearly his best friend. Go stop him.Kenny(I'm not his best friend.)CartmanYeah, Mr. Perfect, go rescue Butters so he can lick your balls some more. [Kenny sighs and walks away with his head down.]The airport, day. Kenny arrives and walks into the Alpha Air terminal. He sees Butters seated on a seat in an empty row, with two suitcases at his feet. He's sobbing. Kenny walks overKenny(Butters, come on.)ButtersThey won't let me on the plane. Why, I can't do anything right! [Kenny takes one suitcase and Butters' right hand, Butters takes the other suitcase, and they walk. Suddenly Butters stops and pulls his hand away] No, no! I have to go to Hawaii, Kenny! I have no idea what's waiting there for me, but I guh, I can't go on like this! [Kenny sighs, then takes Butters to the teller]Kenny(Excuse me, he needs to go to Hawaii.)TellerI already told him, I can't allow anyone on the aircraft who appears to be intoxicated.ButtersI'm not intoxicated, you skank! I'm just "deligerent" because of my hapanuanalua!Kenny(Please, could you just let him on the plane? It's really important. Please?)TellerTell you what: there's plenty of points on his Mahalo Rewards card. If you wanna fly with him, I can let him go.Kenny(Me?)ButtersCan't you see I'm in horrible pain?! Do you have any idea what-?!Kenny[Puts his hand over Butters mouth to shut him up] (Okay, okay! I'll go.) [Scene cuts to the plane flying towards Hawaii]Lihu'e Airport, Kaua'i, Runway B-5. The plane lands and Butters and Kenny enter the terminal. Butters has picked up his bagsButters[Slowly, as he looks around] Well, we're here, now what do I do? [Kenny points to the information officer nearby, and they walk to him]OfficerCan I help you with anything?ButtersUh yeah, I uh, I'm not sure where I'm supposed to go?OfficerOkay, were you with a cruise ship or land tour group?ButtersOh, ah, I'm not a tourist. I'm a native Hawaiian. [The officer just looks at him. A group of Americans approaches him]Blond ManButters Stotch?ButtersYeah?Blond ManWelcome home, young keiki. Your parents said you would be coming for your ceremony. [Notices Kenny] Ah- uh, who's this?ButtersOh thi-this is my friend, Kenny.Older WomanButters, native Hawaiians don't really approve of haoles coming to their ceremonies.ButtersOh please, i-if it weren't for him I couldn't have come.Blond ManVery well, we shall speak with the chief of our island and see. Come now. [Everyone leaves]En route to the chief, day. They go down the road, all packed into an SUV.ButtersYou folks are all native Hawaiians too?Older Man[Driving] Yes. My wife Patty and I have been coming to Kaua'i for almost five years, and Bill and Donna actually own a time share in Poipu.DonnaYes, but Poipu is getting pretty overrun with tourists, I'm afraid.Blond Man[Leans to the right, behind the older man] Let us eat.Older ManOh yea, let us eat. [They stop at Kuwahara Saimin's drive-through] Aloha, five order of saimin, please.ButtersWhat's "saimin"?PattyIt's one of the foods of our people.Older ManOh, I get 20% off, I'm a native. Here's my Mahalo Rewards card. [The cashier notes the card and takes the cash, the older man takes the food, and they're off.] Mahalo. [They soon find themselves behind a slow car with the passenger taking pictures of the scenery. The older man honks.] Come on, you frickin' tourist! Jesus, buy a post card! [Stops and points out a building] These are the ancient ruins of our ancestors. [It's the Coco Palms, long abandoned.] They say the spirit of the king is still in there.Blond ManYou must stay away from this place. It is kapu.Brunet ManKapu. that means "taboo", [points to Kenny] especially to haoles! [they drive off]Older ManUh that there is Bubba's Burgers. [Scene shows Bubba's Burgers] In Havai'i us natives say "Bubba's Bruk". [they pass by a big hotel] Here's the Sheraton, just another megahotel for the throngs of tourists. Here's where many of us natives live. The Sheraton Residences. [A gated community is shown. The Older Man flashes his Mahalo Rewards card to the guard] It's all right, we're natives. [The guard opens the gate and lets them in. They arrive at the chief's residence and step out to talk to him] Protector and Chief, I present to you the keiki, Butters Stotch.ChiefAh, Stephen and Linda's child. Last time I saw you, you were the size of a coconut. Who's the haole?Kenny's room at the Residences, night. He sits by the open window with a lit candle, a pencil and a sheet of paper. He begins to write.KennyMy dearest friends,:I am living amongst the natives in the remote and tiny island of Kava'i. What can I tell you of this mysterious island and its people? It is a place of wonder, and yet to the outsider like me, a place of odd tradition. The people here are peaceful and joyous, and seem to care little for the rush and worry of the outside world. Their diet is mostly an odd mixture of coconut milk, pineapple juice, and vodka, which they call the chi-chi. As for Butters, he is quickly learning the ways of his ancestors, and seems to be feeling better with every passing day. He still seems quite angry at times, but luckily his ceremony will finally take place on the morrow.As he writes, the following scenes are shown: First, the Safeway supermarket. The people greet each other with a fist, with pinky and thumb extended. Next, three kids are playing in a pool while Donna enjoys her chi-chi and the older couple sit on chaise longues in the background. Next, Kenny is at the bar order a chi-chi. Next, Butters learns how to play bocce ball. Next, Stan reads the letter to Cartman and KyleStan[reading the letter] "On the morrow"? What the fuck is wrong with Kenny?KennyTo wit, I have found nothing wrong with this remote place, and I must admit it will be with some melancholy that I will leave this island and return home.

I saw this chick in a bikini on the beach too. She had the nicest boobs ever. Humbly yours, Kenneth.

A luau, day. All the natives are in line for lunch before the ceremony begins. Butters stands on a platform before the chief while Kenny watches onChiefIn the time-honored traditions of our ancestors, we honor the native Hawaiian Butters Stotch with his hapa noa. [everyone cheers and and woman slips a necklace onto his neck] The shark-tooth necklace represents your connection to our island. [a horn blower comes in with a conch shell and blows into it... badly] Now drink the chi-chi! [Patty walks over with a glass of it and gives it to Butters, who begins to drink it through a straw.]Butters[turns right and coughs, then] Whoa, it's like gasoline!ChiefDrink, young keiki, and you will feel the last of your aggression melt away.Butters[Finishes the rest of the drink, then stumbles just a little bit and smiles] Hey, uh now I do feel butter, uh better.ChiefO spirits of ancestors, we ask that you bless this native Hawaiian with his hapa noa! We ask that you-Blond Man[runs in] Listen! [climbs onto a table] Listen everyone! I have terrible, horrible news!ChiefDo you realize that you are interrupting a hapa noa?Blond ManI've just come from the front office! The Mahalo Rewards card is... [chokes]ChiefWhat?! What has happened? Speak!Blond ManThe Mahalo Rewards card is being eliminated! They're trying to say our points are... are... no longer going to be accepted.Chief[Rises from his chair and walks to his left] I knew one day it would come to this.PattyTo what? What does this mean?ChiefThe haoles are trying to do away with us.Resident 1With no rewards program, there will be no distinction between who's a native to this island and who isn't!Resident 2Why can't you people respect our island? Why do you always want nore?!ChiefI'm sorry keiki, your hapa noa will have to wait! For we must unite together as never before! It is time to show the haoles that this is our island! [this draws cheers from everyone]A seaside golf course, day. A cruise ship is some distance from the shore when it blows its horn. A group of natives stand by their golf ballsChief[Yelling at the ship] Stop ruining our island, haoles! FIRE! [The natives fire away into the ocean. Some of the golf balls land in the water, some of them reach the ship]First MateWhat are they doing? [The passengers are being pelted with golf balls.]Chief[Walks over to Butters and gives him a club] Take a swing! Let them know they are not welcome!ButtersI've never done this before. [Gets into position]ChiefIt's all right. Just try to tap into that anger that's inside you.ButtersAim... my anger! Stupid [Swings successfully] Ben Affleck! [The golf ball sails through the air and enters the bridge, smashing through the window and the captain's binoculars. The first mate shrieks] Waaah! [The captain stumbles onto a controller and breaks it with sheer momentum. The ship begins to pitch back and sink. Passengers begin to tumble towards the water. Butters is dumbfounded. The ship breaks in two]ManHold on! [The golf club just falls out of Butters' left hand] Hold on!WomanOh I can't! I can't! I can't hold on!ManI love you! I love you!WomanNo! I love you! I love you back! [The ship vanishes below the water]Breaking NewsAnnouncerThis is breaking news!AnchorAn insurrection in the Hawaiian Islands has escalated to war! After sinking a cruise ship, the natives of Kauai continue to go berserk, forcing all tourists off their island.Man 1They just pushed us onto airplanes and said we weren't welcome anymore!Woman 1Then a little boy called me a skank.Anchor[A picture of Barack Obama appears over his shoulder] The President says he will send the Coast Guard to take the island back, though he sympathizes, being a native Hawaiian himself. [Thinks about it for a second] Hm.The ceremonial plaza, day.ChiefAre all the tourists gone from our island?Resident 3All but a few who are hiding out at Duke's Restaurant. We sent Bob and Trisha Turner to smoke them out.Resident 4What about him?Kenny(What about me?)Resident 4He's a tourist and he knows everything! We have to kill him!Butters[Jumps in front of Kenny to shield him] No! Kenny's my friend! He's the only kid at school I actually like, you buncha jerks!ChiefBe careful young keiki, your anger still controls you because we were not able to finish the ceremony. Perhaps we should finish it now.Resident 4Finish his ceremony?! We are at war, David! I have lived on this island for ten years. Ten years! Every July and part of August! And I can tell you all that what we are about to face from the haoles is nothing short of genocide!Resident 5He's right, David. We can't trust any tourists.ButtersHe won't betray us! Will you, Kenny?!Kenny(No, I'm not going to fucking betray anybody!)Resident 6Then let him prove himself! Trial by opahika'a!Chief DavidHe's only a child!Resident 4If he wants to be one of us, then he must face the challenge!Chief DavidVery well. [The horn blower, Resident 5, returns to blow the conch shell]On the bank of a river flowing by the Residences, day. David and Butters are there with the rest of the residents in the background, and Kenny is...Blond ManThis isn't right! He's not a native! He's gonna get killed!ButtersKenny, be careful!Chief DavidQuiet. He must face this challenge alone. [Kenny is on a surfboard on the river using a small paddle to get somewhere]Resident 1By the gods! Perhaps he has the heart of a native after all!Resident 4He still has yet to make the turn! [Kenny reaches a buoy in the middle of the river and paddles around it, then makes his way back to the riverbank.]ResidentsHohhh!Resident 7[A little tipsy from his drink] That's pretty good. [Kenny slows down, then loses his balance and falls into the river]Kenny(Whoops!)ButtersKenny!ResidentsAwwwww. [A second later they all turn away and leave. Butters stays at the riverbank.]Resident 4[To another Resident] I told you a haole couldn't do it!Chief DavidDid you make the turn your first try? Did any of us? [Kenny pops up behind them and floats down the river]Resident 8[A woman, walks up to Butters] Don't worry, Butters, your friend will find a way back to his kind. The gods will protect him. [She extends her left hand and guides him away]Kenny looks downriver and sees a waterfall. He panics and quickly dog paddles away from it, but the current overwhelms him and he goes over. He bumps into several rocks, each bigger than the last, on his way down, head firstSmith's Tropical Paradise, day. David has assembled the residents into this building and now talks to themChief DavidWe have called for this great meeting because if we are to survive this war, all the native Hawaiian tribes must join as one!Resident 9We're not joining the people of the Hyatt Grand Vacations! They have no rights to call themselves natives!Vacationer 1Oh and you do?! Your ancestors came on an airplane six months ago! Our ancestors sailed here! On a cruise ship! Nine months ago!Chief DavidLook, if we are to fight the haoles, we have to allow all natives to stay!CanyonerIt doesn't matter how many tribes we have, we can't win! We are but a few against the haole's military might! We may have passion, but passion does not win wars!Chief DavidOh no? Come up here, keiki. Come on. [Butters gets on stage with David] This child sunk a cruise ship by himself! Tell them keiki. [Hands the mic to Butters]ButtersWell I don't know about the rest of ya, but I'm sick and tired of bein' pushed around all the time! I came all the way down here for my hapa noa ceremony, and I can't even have it, 'cause the fucking haoles have to ruin everything!Resident 9Yeah!Vacationer 1Screw them!ButtersWell if you ask me, the only good haole is a dead haole! With a, with a stick up his butthole, and his wiener cut off! Rraahhhh!Chief DavidLet us make a pact with more chi-chis!Resident 10[goes to serve himself some more chi-chi from the barrels, but finds there isn't any] Um, we're... we're out of chi-chis.Resident 11Oh, right, we've closed off all the ports.Resident 12But they're still letting vodka through, right? Uh... they can't cut off our chi-chis.Chief David...Oh my God.Downriver, day. Kenny crawls onto the riverbank, coughs, and looks up. He's across the road from Coco Palms. He stands up and walks towards it. He looks around and heads in, but first waits for a bunch of bats to fly out of the cavernous entrance. Meanwhile, offshore, the U.S. Coast Guard shows up in force to deal with the nativesCaptainThis is the U.S. Coast Guard! We have instructions to take you by force, if necessary!Chief David[heading up a large group of natives] Ready? Fire! [the natives fire off their golf balls, but none of them have any effect on the Coast Guard]Captain[Lowers his binoculars, then flatly] Fire. [The ships' guns fire away and decimate many of the natives]Chief DavidArm the bocce balls! [Surviving natives arm bocce balls into slingshots stretched between palm trees. One of them lands on the main ship with a heavy thud]CaptainGod damn it.Chief DavidKeep fighting! Stand your ground!Resident 4We can't fight without chi-chis!Chief DavidYou can and you MUST!Butters[He has six golf balls in front of him and he hits each one towards the Coast Guard] Stupid! Greedy! Haoles! Kill! Them! All!Kenny walks through the Coco Palms, which is dark and spooky. A voice is soon heard, and Kenny stops in his tracks. He turns and runs away, but steps onto a patch covering a hole on the floor and falls in. He recovers and looks up to see the shining ghost of Elvis Presley. He beckons Kenny to follow him, mumbling just like Kenny does.The KingCome on, come on. [Mumbles a few more things as they walk towards a door. Elvis stops and pulls a lever, and a wall rises to reveal loads of absolute vodka, pineapple juice, coconut milk, and macadamia nut liqueur, all the ingredients needed for chi-chis. Elvis walks up to the doorway and motions to Kenny] You know what chi-chis are, right?The Residences, day, on the ceremonial plaza, Chief David admits defeatChief DavidListen everyone, we gave it all we had. It's over. We must go down to Nowiliwili Harbor, and surrender to the American government.Butters[Runs onto the plaza] Surrender?! No, the heck with that!Resident 4We can't hold out here any longer!ButtersWell I won't do it, you hear me?! I'm not licking anybody's... testes!Chief DavidYoung keiki, try to control your anger.ButtersNo! This is our home! And I'm sick of everyone who thinks they're better than me just 'cause they've got good looks, and just 'cause, even after massacring Daredevil, they happen to come back and hit a home run that everyone likes! You shouldn't be able to be good-looking and be with Jennifer Lopez and be a good director! [Turns around and walks away] All right all right fine! Argo is a good movie! There, I admitted it! I told people that it didn't hold up, but it holds up god darn it! Ben Affleck has everything, GRAGH!Resident 13Everyone! Look, I say! [Everyone comes to see, and it's Kenny coming back with a raft full of absolute vodka, pineapple juice, coconut milk, and macadamia nut liqueur. Everyone cheers him on]Resident 14The haole did it!KennyMy dear friends of the mainland,:What adventures I have found on the tiny island of Kava'i. I have truly become one with the natives, who found new courage to fight their oppressors.Chief DavidWe are not surrendering today! Go back and tell your leaders that we will fight them until the end! [Everyone cheers]CaptainYou people just don't give up, do ya?KennyThe American government finally gave in to the natives and had the Mahalo Rewards cards reinstated. Our two cultures, it appears, will once again live in peace.Everyone cheers, even the Coast Guard captainKennyWith the war at an end, our Butters is able to have his hapa noa ceremony. And with any help from the gods, become his old cheery self again.The hapa noa ceremony, day. Butters will finally become a full-fledged member of his tribeChief DavidAnd so it is with great honor that we recognize these two natives with their hapa noa. Take your cards, boys. [Two women come up and give them their cards] Apuiloa hapnanoaha! Hapa'a'a hohaaa! [Resident 5 returns to blow the conch shell a third time.] It's finally over, young keiki. Is your anger at rest?Butters[He thinks for a moment] Yeah, I guess so. Except it still doesn't change the fact that Ben Affleck gets to be handsome, talented, and then gets to go home and kiss Jennifer Lopez.Resident 15Ben Affleck isn't with Jennifer Lopez anymore, he's married to Jennifer Gardner.ResidentsYeah, it's true, uh huh.ButtersWhat? Really? But I thought I was totally jealous of him. He's just married to Jennifer Gardner? Oh my God, I feel so much better. [smiles with relief]Kenny(You do?)ButtersYeah, ogh, I like that Ben Affleck guy. He's a good filmmaker. Come on, Kenny, I guess I owe the kids at school an apology. [He and Kenny walk off into the sunset] Did you see Argo, Kenny? It's a pretty good movie. Ben Affleck has a lot goin' for him. Not everything, but a lot. Whoopie!

[buzzdixonwriter]

The Purple Monster Strikes

Recently in an online discussion of 1950s sci-fi films, the old Republic serial The Purple Monster Strikes came up.

Why is came up I’ll mention later, but first let’s note it: 

was made in 1945 

was the last 15 chapter Republic serial

is awful

Not eyeball gouging / brain melting / soul scorching awful the way The Lost City or Gene Autry And The Phantom Empire or Captain Video are awful, but awful enough…

…yet at the same time, worthy of comment (as we’ll soon note).

1945 is a crucial year.  Despite the Nazis last ditch Battle of the Bulge, WWII is clearly winding down to an Allied victory in both Europe and the Pacific. 

American audiences feel tired of the war wand want something else in their entertainment, even low brow / low rent entertainment like movie serials.

Republic produced three serials that year:  Federal Operator 99 proved surprisingly good, Manhunt Of Mystery Island (their next to last 15 chapter serial) tried some new ideas that while interesting didn’t prove interesting enough to be tried again, and The Purple Monster Strikes brought interplanetary thrills back to the theaters, only this time instead of visiting Mars, Mars (at least two of ‘em) came to Earth.

As noted in my overview of Federal Operator 99, Republic serials of that year looked…inexpensive.* 

This is especially true of The Purple Monster Strikes which really needed a bigger budget, a better script, and adequate production time for the type of story it was trying to tell.

That story?

In a nutshell:   The Purple Monster is a one-Martian invasion come to steal the secret of the “jet plane” (the script uses the term interchangeably with “rocketship”) from Earth and take it to Mars where it can be mass produced and used to attack our world (Why?  WTF knows or cares?).  To achieve this The Purple Monster bumps off the scientist in charge of the project, physically possesses his corpse by turning into a ghost-like entity, and tries to kill a nosy investigator and the late scientist’s niece.  In the end The Purple Monster tries to escape Earth only to get blowed up real good (Did I mention this is silly, stooped, and trite?  I did?  Good).

So why am I interested in The Purple Monster Strikes?  Well, for two reasons, the second and more important one we’ll save for the end, the first is that when watched with fully informed eyes, it’s a testament to the single greatest contribution the serials made to filmmaking:  The production board.

Lemme ‘splain what that is.

In the old days of movie making it was a folder with slots for narrow strips of colored cardboard to be slid in.  The strips were color coded for interior or exterior scenes, night or day, specific locations, second unit or special effects, etc.

These strips were grouped together on the production board so all the exterior day shots at one location could be filmed back-to-back, followed by all the night shots there before moving on to a new location.

The colored carboard strips were further broken down to match production numbers in the shooting script (“Scene 37:  The bandits take the town”), key props and costumes, stunt work, but most importantly actors / characters in the scene.

You want all your most important / expensive / difficult stuff grouped together…but you also need to figure out what you didn’t need so you could pare down your budget.

For example, if you need someone to play a policeman in Scene 1 and in Scene 12 but those scenes are shot two seeks apart, maybe it’s cheaper to have two different actors playing two different policemen for one day each than keep one actor on call for two weeks.

Likewise, if you’ve got an actor in a key supporting role, put all his scenes together.

This necessitates shooting out of sequence, but shooting out of sequence is now pretty much the industry norm for any filmed or taped production.

The serials invented the production board and the rest of the industry speedily glommed onto it.

Once you know what to look for in The Purple Monster Strikes, you can pretty much break down which scenes were shot when.

Case in point: Masked heroes and villains aside, serial characters rarely change costume except to match stock footage from earlier productions.  It’s not especially notable for male characters but females typically wear The Same Damn Dress in Every Damn Scene.

So when heroine Linda Sterling gets dunked in a water tank midway through The Purple Monster Strikes, you can bet that was her last day of filming since they were no longer worried about ruining her costume.

Likewise when a female reinforcement from Mars arrives, the exact same location right down to the same car parked in the same spot are used even though the female Martian doesn’t arrive until 2/3rds of the way into the story.

You wouldn’t notice this week to week in a movie theater, but they’re painfully obvious when bingewatching.

Case in point: There are never more than four characters onscreen at any time; this was all the production could afford on any given day.  If a fifth character showed up, one of the others needed to be knocked unconscious (if they were lucky) shot and fall off camera (if they were unlucky), or disintegrated (if they were really unlucky).

For example, the hero and heroine could be talking to a scientist (day 1 / shot 1) when three baddies show up at the door (day 2 / shot 1).  The first baddie shoots the scientist, who falls off camera then enters the frame and knocks out the heroine, who conveniently falls behind a counter (day 1 / shot 2).  The other two baddies enter and a huge brawl erupts (day 2 / shot 2).  The heroine revives (day 1 / shot 3) and shouts a warning at the hero.  The hero blasts a minor baddie who falls off camera as the other two baddies flee the scene (day 2 / shot 3), then the heroine rejoins the hero (day 1 / shot 4).

Binge watching also reveals a lot of sets and props reused again and again.  The same footstool is used as a weapon more than once, a prop valve in one chapter serves an entirely different function in another, and while serials frequently reused stock special effects shots, The Purple Monster Strikes doesn’t just use the same exploding car shot twice in the same serial, not just twice in the same chapter, but twice in the same car chase!

(Speaking of which, whenever they get in Linda Sterling’s car you know the odds are 50-50 it’s going off a cliff in a big flaming fireball.  The Purple Monster Strikes has her going through so many identical make automobiles you’d think she owned stock in a car dealership.)

Anybody familiar with Republic serials is going to find a lot of reused sets and props here.  Having seen Manhunt Of Mystery Island recently, I immediately recognized their ubiquitous warehouse set, the Republic Studios loading dock doubles as two different factory exteriors, and having lived in Chatsworth several years I can practically name each and every rock in the exterior scenes.**

On the plus side, bonus points for some impressive looking props, including a rocket test engine that provides the explosive cliffhanger for the first chapter, a double-barrel disintegrator that looks like a giant set of binoculars (I wonder if it was originally a military surplus training aid), and a spaceship seen under construction for most of the serial that proves to be the most striking design the redoubtable Lydecker brothers ever created (a pity it’s glimpsed only briefly before being blown up in the last chapter; Republic should have reused it for their later sci-fi serials instead of the dull unimaginative designs they went with).

Fun factoid: Mi amigo Donald F. Glut, filmmaker / NYTimes bestselling author / film historian, knew The Purple Monster hizzownsef, Roy Barcroft, and reports Barcroft had the wardrobe department sew a secret pocket in his costume for his cigarettes! 

Speaking of Barcroft, he’s the best thing in this serial and he ain’t that good.  A perennial bad guy in serials and B-Westerns, he normally turned in a satisfying performance, but the script for The Purple Monster Strikes gives him nothing to work with.

I mentioned previously how Federal Operator 99’s script works more often than not and gives its characters something the actors can work with, but The Purple Monster Strikes?  Nada.

Every line is a clunky flat declarative sentence exposition dump of the “I’ll take this strange medallion we discovered to Harvey the metallurgist to analyze” variety.

Even Linda Sterling can’t do anything with this though she tries to find an appropriate facial expression for whatever scene she’s thrown in.

As for nominal star Dennis Moore, I won’t say he’s wooden but in one of the innumerable fight scenes Barcroft hurls a coatrack at him and for that brief moment the coatrack delivers a far more memorable performance.

Sidebar on the fight scenes: They are choreographed expertly, among some of the best Republic ever staged, but directors Spencer Gordon Bennet and Fred C. Brannon -- both serial veterans who could do much, much better -- really dropped the ball in shooting them.  They’re shot almost entirely in wide angle longshots using slightly sped up photography instead of intercutting to keep the pacing fast.

The rest of the cast consists mostly of stuntmen carefully enunciating their one line before the fists start flying, or older male actors who deliver surprisingly good performances compared to everyone else.

But that script -- oh, lordie, that script!  This was made in 1945 and they’ve got a damn organ grinder in it!  Organ grinders vanished from the public sphere with the damn of movies; by the 1940s they were found only in comic books and animated cartoons; in other words, kid stuff.***

It’s clear the writers on The Purple Monster Strikes (Royal Cole, Albert DeMond, Basil Dickey, Lynn Perkins, Joseph Poland, and Barney Sarecky) considered this mere juvenile pablum, not worthy of even the smattering of sophistication they sprinkled on Federal Operator 99.

An adult can watch Federal Operator 99 and at least feel the story makes some kind of sense and the characters, however imperfectly enacted, at least offer adult motives and behaviors, but The Purple Monster Strikes is just insulting to the intelligence (I mean, they call the female Martian invader Marsha.  Seriously?).

Okay, so why do I think this is worth writing about?

Because The Purple Monster Strikes is the bridge between WWII and the Cold War.

Most of the major tropes of 1950s sci-fi are reactions to Cold War anxieties, and those anxieties are transplanted WWII anxieties.

Before WWII, American moneyed interests waged a relentless PR campaign against communism, socialism, and labor unions (sound familiar?).

Forced to make peace with the Soviets during WWII, these moneyed interests -- now heavily invested in what Dwight D. Eisenhower called the military-industrial complex -- bit their lips as US pop culture portrayed the Russians as gallant allies against fascism (and they were; credit where credit is due).

As soon as the war ended, however, and in fact, even a little before the end (see The Best Years Of Our Lives; great movie), they were already recasting the Russians as treacherous authoritarian atheists out to conquer the world.

As noted earlier, American audiences felt weary of a relentless diet of war related entertainment and in the waning days of the war turned eagerly to non-war related stories. 

Likewise studios, not wanting to get caught with rapidly dating WWII related material nobody wanted to see began actively developing different kinds of stories.

After four years of intense anxiety, the country needed to come down but couldn’t go cold turkey.  Science fiction (and hardboiled mysteries and spy thrillers) provided safe decompression.

1945 marks a significant sea change in Republic serial production.  Sci-fi would become a more predominant theme, infiltrating other genres such as the ever popular masked mastermind (viz. The Crimson Ghost).

Federal Operator 99 would be the last highwater mark for more plausible serial stories, but crime and undercover espionage remained serial staples to the bitter end.

Only Manhunt Of Mystery Island seemed a misfire and even in that case it only meant the masked mastermind returned to more traditional origins instead of the inventive backstory created for Captain Mephisto.  

What The Purple Monster Strikes did was take a very familiar set of WWII cliches and stereotypes then recast them in a (relatively) safe science fictional context.

The closest prototype to The Purple Monster Strikes is Republic’s G-Men Vs. The Black Dragon, as racially offensive as you could hope to imagine, and turn the inscrutable “yellow” villains into malevolent purple ones (later green when colorization was added).

By making the literally other worldly alien the “other”, 1950s sci-fi sidestepped the worst implications of their own themes:  

Invasion 

Subversion 

Fifth columns 

Loss of soul / identity / individuality (personified in bodily possession by alien intellects)

Paranoia

The Purple Monster Strikes lacks the wit and wherewithal to fully exploit these ideas, but it sure could hold them up for everyone to get a quick glimpse.

As childish and as inane as the plot may be, by the end when hero and heroine realize there is literally no one they can trust, The Purple Monster Strikes dropped a depth charge into preteen psyches fated to go off six years later with the arrival of The Thing From Another World and countless other sci-fi films and TV episodes afterwards.

Did The Purple Monster Strikes create this trend?  No, of course not – but as Stephen King pointed out in Danse Macabre regarding the incredibly inane The Horror Of Party Beach’s selection of nuclear waste dumping as their raison d'être for their monsters:

“I’m sure it was one of the least important points in their preproduction discussions and for that reason it becomes very important.”

King’s point is by not giving the matter much thought, The Horror Of Party Beach’s producers simply tapped into a subconscious gestalt already running through the culture and said, “Yeah, nuclear waste, wuddup widdat?”

Likewise, The Purple Monster Strikes’ producers / directors / writers didn’t sit themselves down to analyze Orwell’s Nineteen Eighty-Four but rather picked up on the forever war current already moving through the American body politic.

War without end, war without ceasing.

And if we can’t define an enemy by name or place, so much the better!  The war on crime, the war on poverty, the war on drugs…

The war on terror.

The forever war thrives on the faceless unknowable enemy with the unknown but clearly malevolent anti-American agenda.

“Them”…against…U.S.

As an artistic achievement, The Purple Monster Strikes is sadly lacking in nearly all aspects, but as a cultural artifact, it’s still a clear warning.

Only not about “them” but about…us.

  © Buzz Dixon 

  *  read “cheap”

** Republic’s low budget backed them into an overlapping series of sci-fi serials, loosely referred to as the Rocket Man / Martian invasion serials by fans.  The Purple Monster Strikes’ costume was reused for Flying Disc Man From Mars (which featured a semi-circular flying wing already featured in Spy Smasher and King Of The Mounties) and again for Zombies Of The Stratosphere, but between those two serials the wholly unrelated King Of The Rocket Men was released.  Zombies… is a sequel to both Flying Disc Man… and King Of The Rocket Men but Radar Men From The Moon introduces a new character -- Commando Cody -- who wears the same rocket pack as the heroes of King… and Zombies… but faces a lunar, not Martian menace then he spins off to become Commando Cody:  Sky Marshall Of The Universe in a quasi-serial (i.e., no cliff-hangers, each chapter a complete adventure) fighting a third alien invasion!

***  Or the works of Bertolt Brecht, but that ain’t what Republic’s going for here.

[sparkles-and-trash]

stuff about Bob’s Burgers that makes me soft af

idk this is my fav show and I’m re-watching and I wanna praise it okay here wo gooo

- first of all, this show has really evolved from the first episode, from the pilot using the autism joke that made some people uncomfortable, they took that to heart, and never touched that subject again 

- this show has so much good lgbtq+ rep? 

- in one of the earliest episodes, Bob’s starts diving a cab at night to get extra money for his oldest daughter, Tina’s, 13 birthday party (how fucking sweet aaah), and he meets a group of trans hookers, and nobody, except them, made a comment or deal about it, Bob just thinks they’re cool and end up as their friend

- they also introduce Marshmallow, who’s a black trans woman, and everyone loves her and treats her wonderfully 

- at one point someone calls her “tall, dark and handsome” and Bob goes “Marshmallow isn’t handsome, she’s beautiful!” and it’s so soft and good 

- there’s also a gay raccoon in their ally, his name is Little King Trashmouth and he just got married! 

- the way they portray family is wonderful, truly wonderful 

- like they actually like each other, want to be around each other and love each other so much 

- Bob and Linda aren’t just husband and wife, they’re best friends who respect each other and have a lot of fun 

- when Linda gets a job at a supermarket to make some extra money and have “her own thing” Bob isn’t upset about her independence, he’s upset because he misses his wife and recognizes how valuable she is to both him and their business, but he still doesn’t ask her to come back because he sees how happy she is 

- and the kids, aah the kids! 

- first of all, Bob and Linda aren’t all “ugh these little shit why did we have them ugh”, no, they love these kids, they hang out all the time, they’re interested in their lives, and both the parents have special relationships with each and every one of the kids 

- and the kids love each other a lot, they enjoy each others company and supports each other in school and with other problems 

- they have their fights and shit ofc, they’re not perfect, but it’s very realistic and good 

- the voice actors records together at the same time, to get realistic conversations an reactions, and then they animate around that, and it works wonderfully 

- Gene, the middle child, is very gender non-conforming and it’s never ever made into a joke, or a big deal 

- Tina, the oldest, has a very sexual fantasy and loves boys, but it isn’t made into something gross or weird because she’s a girl, which is GOOD because girls should have their sexual awakening in peace 

- Louise, the youngest, is very interested in Japanese toys and culture, like her fav toy, Kuchi Kopi, and her family tries to follow and understand it  

- and she is perceived as tough and a little crazy, but she also shows weakness and her softer side, and it makes her feel nuanced and idk I just love her a lot 

- the small details and continuation is what I life for 

- like the background characters, or the ones of smaller roles, they keep showing up at the same jobs, with the same personality, outfits and memory of the things they have done with the main characters before 

- in one of the episodes that parodies the MLP fandom, Bob goes undercover as one of them to get back a toy one of the men tricked from Tina (adorbs), and gets a tiny tattoo on his back, but the family stops him 

- but every time you see him without a shirt after that, the little tattoo is there 

- SO MANY GOOD SONGS and most of them are on Spotify!!! 

idk guys I just love this show so much and I might keep adding to this list because aaaah

[addictofsupernatural]

Spidey Senses (pt. 6)

Peter Parker x reader

Summary: Having to keep up a lie is hard for Peter when you're trying to help him.

Word Count: 3366

Chapter 1 • Chapter 5

"What do you mean finally?! This is bad. Really, really bad Ned. I shouldn't be thinking about her like that!"

"Dude, it's your feelings. You're gonna feel whatever way you do. You can't control that stuff."

"But this could ruin our friendship. I don't want that." Peter whined over the phone as he put his hand over his eyes, laying on his bed.

"Or~ maybe this could all work and you could score a girlfriend." Ned suggested, amusement laced in his voice. "I mean, I didn't want to be the first one to say this, but..."

"What?"

"Let's just put it this way. She's always had a cute heart. Over time, her heart got cuter and went straight to making her face kinda hot."

"Ned." Peter frustratedly said.

Ned gave him a goofy laugh. "You sound like your getting jealous or something."

Peter quickly sat up. "Do you think that'll happen?"

"Probably." He said nonchalantly. "All seriousness Peter, you should go for it. I always thought you two would be good together. There's just something there, trust me. And hey, you two could be the amazing spider couple. That'd be awesome."

"Spider couple." He smiled and laid back down. "You think people would make that, like, a ship name for us?"

"Dude, you could have a super girlfriend. How awesome does that sound?!"

Peter let out a chuckle. "That does sound pretty cool. Okay, thanks for the therapy session. Night Ned."

"No problem. Night." And with that Peter stayed up to think about you some more.

The next week at school went horribly. All Peter wanted to do was spend more time with you, but you kept pushing him towards Liz at gym class and in Mathletes. He felt so jealous whenever he saw you goofing off with Ned. You were a very touchy person, and every warm hug to Ned felt like Peter's arms were getting colder.

When Liz was finally busy, he went over to you and sat a little closer to you than usual. "Hey Peter." You greeted brightly. "Any progress?"

"On what?" He asked dumbly.

"Liz." You said quietly.

"Oh!" He voice cracked and cleared his throat. "Oh. Um, not really. I think I'm done for the day."

"Aw, Peter!" You rubbed his arm. "You shouldn't give up on stuff that's important to you."

He sighed, glancing at Ned's confused face. "Can't I just spend the rest of the day with you?"

You smiled and nodded, patting his cheek gently. Peter's phone buzzed and it was a text message from Ned.

Not Guy in the Chair: Why didn't you tell her how you feel?

He glanced at you working on your notes.

SM: I don't want things to be weird.

Not Guy in the Chair: The truth will set you free 🕊️🕊️

SM: Shhhh

You then took out left over brownies for Peter. He gladly took one as Flash came over, taking one out of the container as well. "Hey babe."

"Don't touch my stuff and never call me that." You closed your container and put it in your backpack. "What do you want Flash?"

"Just making sure you got a hot outfit for the party. Finally gonna show some skin?"

"I do have a costume. Peter was with me when I got it too. We had a lot of fun." Peter looked at you and smiled.

Flash then rolled his eyes. "Really? How could anyone ever have fun with Penis Parker?"

"Well we do." You tugged each boy at your side into a side hug. "Do you have a special trio that would do anything for you?"

He nervously scoffed. "I have more than two friends. Does every friend seem special to you when you're not popular?"

"If you called one of your friends in the middle of the night and told them to come over cause you're sad, would any of them do it?" He was silent as he looked down. "That's a special friend. Now goodbye."

"Y'know—"

"Good. Bye." You pressed, frowning.

"I—"

"Dude," MJ interrupted. "Know when you've been beat. Walk away."

He then did so, stomping away. You smiled and looked over to MJ. "Why do we not talk to each other?"

"Cause you're a loser." She said, matter-of-factly.

Though Ned and Peter have her a confused frown, your smile only widened. "What are you?"

"Friendless."

"Not anymore!" You exclaimed. The teacher then announced that the club session just ended. "We'll see you at lunch tomorrow then."

She stared at you for a moment. "...Okay, I guess. Bye." You could tell that she held back a smile as you excitedly waved at her before packing up.

You and Peter were walking home, when he asked about MJ. "I don't know." You said, shrugging. "I just feel like she's cool. My spidey senses can feel it."

"You say that about everything." He laughed.

"Because I'm always right about everything. It's a given." He chuckled again. "C'mon, don't you ever have intensified feelings about some things or people?"

He awkwardly smiled and nodded, looking away from you. "More than I should." He mumbled.

"Hm?"

"I said I should hope so."

"Well then, see? I'm right again." You grinned.

"Did your spidey senses feel that too?"

"Yup." You both chuckled.

Over the next few days MJ began to directly hang out with you and the boys, and she said that she would be going to the party as well. "I don't believe in stereotyping geeks out of parties, which is why I'm supporting you guys tomorrow." She explained with an almost unnoticeable smile.

"So generous." You teased back, Ned and Peter smiling as well. "What'll you be going as?"

"Oh, I'll be going as part of the impartial generation of today." She gave a sly smile.

"Nice, nice." You nodded contently before Flash came up to your table again. "Holy crap man, are you sure you even have friends? Why do you keep bugging me?"

"Just wanted to see what the new member of the Penis Parker group was like." He then nodded to Mj, to which she didn't respond. He then rudely waved his hand over her face. "Hello?"

She backed her face up as you smacked his hand away. "Leave her alone."

"What? This is probably the most exciting thing to happen to her. It's not like you guys have interesting lives." You and Peter looked at each other. "I'm guessing that's a no?"

"Well Peter and y/n know Spiderman and Spidergirl!" Ned blurted out.

Flash then did a breathy, wheezing laugh. "Are you kidding me? How would they know them?"

"The Stark Internship!"

"Ned, stop talking." You mumbled. Ned nodded and put his head down. "We met them a few times, so we don't really know them or anything, and even if we did were aren't supposed to talk about it."

"Well Peter," he ignored you. "If you're actually cool then why don't you invite them the the party?"

"Cause we wouldn't want to waste their time by having them go to some fanboy's party." You argued, knowing Peter would choke up if he answered.

Flash shrugged it off. "That's what I thought." He said as he left.

The next day you were talking to Linda while in your costume with your mini backpack slung over your shoulder. She was telling you about the job interview she's getting and how she's saving up the money from Tony's watch to rent an apartment in the building you live it. "I'm so happy right now Linda! You could totally be one of those super nosey neighbors, and I would pretend to be okay with it!"

"That would be a dream come true." She said as you both turned your heads to see Peter coming, also dressed up. "Just a few years older, and I would totally go for that."

You sighed. "You're such a creeper Linda."

"And you should loosen up and be more of a creeper." You gave her a look, and she only shrugged. "Just saying. Press on and go for it."

"Hey guys." Peter greeted with a smile. "Everything okay?"

"Yup!" You hopped off the steps you were sitting on. "Let's go."

"Okay. Bye Linda." Peter politely waved.

"Don't acknowledge her Peter, it makes her weirder."

"Don't be jealous that I'm more fun." She called out, smiling.

Peter chuckled and tried to put his hands in his pockets, only for his hands to slip from there being none. He didn't know what to do with his free hand that wasn't carrying the shield. He probably looked so awkward in front of you right now. This was so nerve wracking.

"Peter calm down." You suddenly said, causing him to jump a little. "It's my first party too, but we got each other. And we know Ned's gonna be there to be a dork, and Mj will be there to remind us how stupid we look. It'll be great."

He nervously laughed, scratching his head. "Yeah, I guess." He then became nervous just thinking about what would happen if you discovered this crush, especially at the party with Flash. "Y/n, what do you see in men?"

The question was unexpected, and your face felt like it was in flames. "What would you ask that?"

"Just wondering. I don't think I've ever seen you flirt with someone." He mentally sighed at the save.

"Mm, I guess he has to be nice, for starters. I'd want him to make me laugh, and care about me. I don't know, that's really it."

"Really? Only that?"

"Yeah?"

"Nothing with looks, or..."

"Peter!" You lightly smacked his arm and giggled. "You know I don't care about that stuff."

"You care about your own looks." He said quietly.

"That's different though." You grinned and tugged on his wrist. "We're here. C'mon."

Ned was waiting on the steps, looking up at you two in major relief. "Guys, tell me you brought the suits."

You both nodded. "Our suits aren't party tricks." You said. "This feels way too wrong."

"Yeah, I'm with y/n. Those suits are worth way too much to use for something like this." Peter added.

"Only for a few minutes. This is our chance for Flash to stop messing with us." Ned whined.

You huffed. "Okay, but only if Flash is being extra annoying."

The three of you walked inside and saw Flash trying to be a DJ, playing some basic techno music. He saw the three of you, and brought out his mic. "Hey Penis Parker, where's your superhero friends? That's not Spiderman, that's Ned in a onesie."

People began laughing, and you pursed your lips. "I'll be right back."

You left and went behind a building, opening your backpack and quickly changing into your hero outfit. You took a deep breath, and was about to swing in when you got a call from Peter.

"Dude, tell me she's doing it." You could hear Ned say.

"I don't know, I'm gonna ask her. Y/n?"

"Yeah?" You laughed out.

"Did you really put it on?"

"Yeah. Are you gonna join me or do you just want me to do it?"

"This doesn't feel right."

"Peter doesn't know what he's saying." Ned called out in a child-like tone.

"Ned's being mean to me." Peter responded in the same tone.

You giggled. "Look guys, I don't feel great about it, but Flash needs to be knocked down a peg. It hurts to see him treat you guys like crap. This is just gonna be a one time thing, right?"

"Right." Peter confirmed.

Ned remained silent, but Peter nudged him. He huffed. "Right."

"Okay, I'll be down in a bit." You then ended the call.

"So, I've been meaning to ask," Ned said. "But why does y/n still think you like Liz? I thought you were gonna tell her yesterday."

"I didn't know how to tell her the truth! I panicked!"

"You're hopeless." Mj said as she walked up to the two boys. "What happened to y/n?"

"She went to go get Spidergirl." Ned nodded for way to long as he said this.

"Wait," She looked genuinely surprised. "So you guys, like, actually know the Spider heros?"

"What was that?" Flash asked over his mic. "Is Penis Parker actually going to bring Spiderman and Spidergirl here?"

"Actually, um, Spiderman couldn't make it." Peter said before clearing his throat awkwardly. "But Spidergirl said she'd make an appearance."

Flash obnoxiously laughes into the mic. "Can anybody believe this guy?"

You then swung in. "I do." You raised your hand playfully as everyone began cheering. "You guys were expecting me, right?"

Everyone cheered again. "Oh my God." Flash said in a high pitched manner.

You grabbed Ned by the shoulders. "It's Ned, right?" You asked over the music, loud enough for everyone to hear. "I've heard good things about you."

"All true." He showed his goofy smile.

You patted his cheek. "I bet!" You turned and walked over to Peter, giving him a big hug. He returned it, finding the hug oddly comforting considering everyone was staring. "Peter! It's been a bit, huh?"

He awkwardly chuckled. "Yeah. Thanks for coming."

"Of course! When I heard from SM that the Peter Parker finally had time for a party, I knew I had to come and see it for myself! Maybe my partner could join in next time, yeah?"

"We... Um..." He kept doing his little pant–laugh thing that he does when he doesn't know what to say. "Yeah."

You moved over to look at Mj. "You go by Mj, right?" She nodded. "Y/n tells me you're super opinionated and awesome."

She smiled and shrugged, tucking back some hair. "I just kinda say whatever comes to mind. I don't really think before I talk sometimes."

You tapped her chin. "I love it. Never change." You then clapped your hands. "Now! Where's Flash Thompson?"

Everyone pointed to Flash, who quickly turned down the music. You swung to him quickly and caused him to back up into a small table, awkwardly steadying it. "H... Hi."

"Hi Flash. I wanted to let you know that me and Spiderman keep tabs on our friends, to make sure they're okay. We're pretty protective, y'know?"

"Yeah, yeah. I totally get that." He kept awkwardly nodding.

You nodded and patted his cheek. "I knew you would, so I need you to keep an eye on Peter and Ned while me and SM can't. Can you do that for me?"

"Yes, yes I can. I could do anything for you."

"Thank you Flash." You patted his arm, to which he looked at his arm in amazement. "Amazing. Okay, I gotta go. But remember, I keep tabs on your school, so I'll be watching!"

You then walked around for a bit taking pictures and talked to some people. You suddenly felt goosebumps all over and excused yourself, flying out and looking around. You saw a small blue explosion in the distance and quickly texted Peter.

He came as soon as he could and you explained the situation. Unbeknownst to the two of you, Mj noticed Peter leave quickly after you did. She also noticed that you weren't in sight while Spidergirl was here.

"Okay, okay. I, I need to change!" He then quickly took off his shirt and started unbuckling his pants, looking up to you dumbly staring at him. "Uh..."

"Sorry!" You quickly turned around and look off your mini backpack, plopping it down next to yourself. It had Peter's suit folded inside. "That was partially not my fault. You gotta warn somebody before you start stripping next time."

"Next time?" He asked teasingly. "You say it like you want it to happen again."

Truth be told, neither of you knew where this new found confidence of Peter came from to tease you like that. It was almost like he was flirting. You liked it though; it was as if he was becoming more confident and mature with himself.

Your face was hot as you grinned at the ground. "Well, you gotta pay for whatever expensive college you're gonna get into somehow. And I'll come visit at the strip club to support my best friend."

He hugged you with one arm from behind. "So supportive. Maybe the reason I'm a stripper is to support the both of us."

You chuckled and rubbed his arm. "My hero."

He turned you around and handed you your backpack. "This is a cool backpack, by the way. I like the mini things of Thor."

"Thank you." You said, awkwardly taking the backpack. "Now let's go."

Neither of you could get some webbing to hold onto any tree in the area, so instead you both ran across a whole field, looking kind of comical. By the time you two got there this one man was showing another some high tech weapons. You were getting closer to listen in, and it sounded like the guy wasn't interested in what the others were trying to sell.

"Why you trying to upsell me man?"

The other two guys didn't like this, and were slowly getting angrier. You tried to get closer, but Peter's phone went off from Ned calling him. You both hid as Peter fumbled to end the call, and the two merchants assumed the buyer was setting them up because of the noice. In an instant there were two guns pointed at the buyer.

"Woah, woah!" You yelled as you and Peter came out, hands up. "C'mon guys, I promise he wasn't turning his back on you two. And I'm a good guy; good guys don't lie."

"Really, if you guys are gonna shoot at anybody, shoot at me." Peter said with seriousness. "I'm the real threat."

The two guys looked at each other and pointed their guns at the both of you. "Okay."

You both dodged their shots and flung their guns away with your webs. You tried to shoot at the wheels of the car but the man with an electric glove shot at you, causing you to fling back. You noticed that the buyer hesitated to go and help you, but decided not to and instead hopped in his car and drove away.

When you got up they were getting in the car so you and Peter shot a web to the door. The door broke off, but Peter shot another web to the car to have you two ride the door.

"Hey, I got a really stupid idea!" You yelled out as the guy in the back of the van was reaching for a gun.

"Go for it!" The van hit a sharp turn, and you took this as chance to let go of the door and leap to a tree, using your strength to push and dive head first into the van.

"Woah, I did it!" The shocker guy tried to punch you with his electric glove, but you dodged it. "Someone's bitter!"

You began to go on a defensive position and dodge his contact hits and fires in the narrow van, until Peter shot a web at him that pinned one of his hands to the side of the van. He used the other hand to shoot at Peter, blasting him into a backyard.

"I'm okay!" You heard him yell out from a distance.

You slammed the shocker guy to the ground and pinned his hands and feet to the ground. You stood and shot web to cover his mouth as well. "That was a pretty rude thing to do, but I guess two v one isn't fair. Then again, you're are a bad guy."

You remembered that you had your backpack on this whole time, and took it off to hug it.

"Mh. Once again, Thor backpack comes in clutch. Odinson, you can me do no wrong." You opened your backpack and put some small weapons in it, zipping it up and putting it back on. You looked outside before turning around to talk to the man pinned on the ground. "I wonder where Spiderman went. It's all good though, I'll stop the car—"

You were cut off by something grabbing you and yanking you back. You yelped as you were whipped into this huge lake. The water hit you painfully and you began to see spots, seeing a flash of a man with mechanical wings. You almost didn't feel something bring you up.

"Thanks ma..." You looked up and winced. What was carrying you was the Iron Man suit. "Uh oh."

"I have some words for you two."

---

Tag List:

@flawlessapollo6 @them-cute-boys @lunawndrlnd @the-greatt-perhaps @babebenhardy @sofisofi1602 @smilexcaptainx @herondalism @coni-martina @youvebeenlizzed @melanisticroyalty

[welllpthisishappening]

One Foot In (4/7)

The facts were these.

Killian Jones was dead. This much Emma knew, standing in the middle of the funeral parlor staring at him. What she didn’t know was why. Or how. Or what she would do when she touched him.

Because Emma Swan had a gift. Touch a dead thing once, bring it back to life. Touch it again, dead forever.

And the last thing Emma could do was bring Killian back to life, talk to him for the first time in years, only to watch him die all over again. Not when she’d spent the better part of those same years being in love with him.

—–

Rating: Teen, but eventually they’re going to kiss Word Count: 9.3K and I seriously don’t remember writing all of this AN: This is the part where we kind of deviate from Pushing Daisies (although there are some jokes from other episodes) and move into magic and meaningful conversations and it’s going to get relatively exciting from here on out. I hope, at least. Thanks for reading this. I think you guys are swell. 

@shireness-says​ @optomisticgirl​ @nikkiemms, @teamhook, @dayo488​, @greymeetsblue​, @jennjenn615​, @heavenlyjoycastle​, @klynn-stormz​, @superchocovian​, @onepunintendid​, @jonesfandomfanatic​, @lfh1226-linda

Also on Ao3 if that’s your jam. Or, you can take it from the top. 

—–

Emma Swan is twenty-nine years, six months, twenty-three days and, approximately, twelve hours and forty-two minutes old when her shoulder is nearly ripped out of her socket.

“Ow, jeez, what the hell, Ruby?” she hisses, gaping at her partner as soon as she tightens her hold on Emma’s wrist. “My health insurance is garbage. I can’t get injured here.” “Don’t you think we could sue the town of Storybrooke? I think you’re technically on city hall property at this point.” “Town hall,” Killian corrects. He’s leaning against the back door of Emma’s car, feet crossed at the ankle again which is only kind of infuriating in the way it makes Emma’s heart jump, but he’s also got a pinch between his eyebrows that wasn’t there when they left the restaurant. 

It’s because Emma made him sit in the backseat. 

And Ruby agreed. 

His arsenal of curses has gotten far more creative in the past two decades. One of the more nautical ones even made Ruby blush. 

Emma didn’t think she was capable of that. 

“Storybrooke is a town,” he continues when Ruby quirks a vaguely annoyed eyebrow in his direction. “If you want to get technical. The state of Maine is weird like that. Anything can really be a town, but a city has to be incorporated by a special act of the state legislature.” “Why do you know that?” Emma asks. “And, really? Anything can be a city? There’s not like...a population requirement.” “Usually. But Maine’s a strange place with strange laws and as discussed before, I’ve read some things in the last few years.” “That includes the requirements for a city to be formed?” “Incorporated.” “What a ridiculous word.” Killian hums, but the pinch between his eyebrows is still there and he looks a little cautious. Or nervous. That’s really the word for it. He looks nervous, as if whatever they’ll find out from Cora Mills at the Storybrooke Town Hall is going to change everything. 

Ruby still hasn’t let go of Emma’s wrist. 

Emma is slightly concerned about the blood flow to her hand. 

“The specifics of any of this could not possibly matter less,” Ruby hisses. “Jones, I need you to take a walk towards those very high bushes.” The pinch between his eyebrows is never going to disappear. “Excuse me?” “Did none of these encyclopedias you’ve read teach you how the English language works?” “Why do you think I was reading encyclopedias?” “Were you not?” “I mean,” he shrugs, “maybe at one point. Nemo had some really old ones that were mostly focused on the naval history of the world, but those weren’t very interesting and the pages were really fragile and—” “I do not care,” Ruby shouts, and Emma blinks at the absolute acid in her voice. She tries to yank her arm back to her side, but that works as well as trying to understand the absurd inner-workings of the Maine census bureau and only ends with Emma elbowing herself in the ribs. Ruby huffs dramatically, lips pursed. “A walk,” she repeats. “Towards those bushes where, presumably no one can see you and realize you’re breathing.” “Why are we yelling this?” Emma mumbles. Ruby’s answering glare could probably melt several thousand diamonds. 

Her grip could certainly crack them. 

And Emma isn’t really sure what’s changed in the car ride from her restaurant to the Storybrooke Town Hall, but there had been a lot of cursing and mumbling about acting like I’m a little kid and sounds like Liam and that second one had made her breath catch in her throat and Ruby was always very good at reading her face. 

Which she could see perfectly. From the front seat of Emma’s car. 

Oh, damn. 

“Maybe just one second,” Emma says, glancing at Killian to find him staring at her like it’s the first time he’s ever seen her. Ruby squeezes her nails into Emma’s wrist. “Or,” she amends. “Like thirteen seconds. Just...to come up with a plan of attack.” Killian clicks his teeth at that, eyebrows lifting, which doesn’t do much to help the very obvious whatever that settles on every inch of his face – something that looks like surprise and feels like disappointment and the buzzing in between Emma’s ears sputters into nothing. He’s chewing on the side of his tongue, a nervous habit he picked up when he was seven and Liam let them watch Friday the 13th on Halloween with the lights off and enough candy to make Emma regret her distinct lack of dental insurance again. 

“Huh,” he mutters, barely audible over the sounds of the town. 

They’re familiar sounds – a few cars and some kid riding their bike because it’s August and there’s a hint of humidity in the air that’s already starting to make the ends of Emma’s hair curl. She can hear an ice cream truck a few blocks away and mosquitos and someone needs to get their air conditioner checked out because it can’t be good for it to be that noisy. 

Emma shifts awkwardly on her feet, trying, and failing, again, to regain control of her right arm, but Ruby must have been a wrestler in another life because she’s got some kind of choke-hold and, clearly, no intention of letting go. 

“It’s just thirteen seconds,” Emma says, but her voice sounds like the lie it is and her own nerves are obvious in every single syllable. Killian’s lips twist. 

“At least. For your plan of attack.” “We just...you know, we like to be prepared going into stuff like this.” “Murder investigations.” “Well, to be fair, I’m not usually dealing with people who are alive. We’ve got more time and I don’t want to, you know, waste that.” “Seems impossible when you’re used to only a minute,” Killian says, and Emma is single-handedly digging herself into the world’s biggest ditch. She’s a little worried Ruby’s nails have cut her arm. 

“You don’t actually have to stand in the bushes.” Ruby scoffs, her own mumbled curses, and Killian’s lips twitch. “I had no intention of standing in the bushes. You better attack though, Swan. Lucas looks like she’s growing talons.” “Claws, honestly.” “I am standing right here,” Ruby seethes. 

Emma shrugs, glancing over her shoulder and she hadn’t realized she’d moved away from Ruby. Or closer to Killian. Honestly she’s going to write a twenty-seven page research paper on the possibility of magnets in the real world and how goddamn inconvenient they are. 

“And whose fault is that?” Emma asks. “Alright, I really do have garbage health insurance, so if we could avoid bodily harm before we deal with a maybe murderer, that’d be great. C’mon.”

She, finally, regains control of her arm, moving a few feet down the sidewalk and leaving Killian with the car and the anxiety practically radiating off him. 

And, really, Emma has every intention of controlling the conversation from the get-go, a determination that’s almost impressive because she’s having a very difficult time remembering to breathe consistently, but then Ruby is in front of her and the sun appears to be reflecting off the highlights in her hair and she’s doing that foot tapping thing. 

Emma hates that foot tapping thing. 

“Is this where you yell?” Emma asks, Ruby already shaking her head. 

“No, this is where I do the asking several very important questions and you tell me the God’s honest truth or I swear to God I will push you in traffic.” “In traffic?” “Is that not threatening enough?”

Emma makes a contradictory noise in the back of her throat. “I feel like people would probably stop their cars. Or I’d still have the ability to dodge. I think I could dodge.” “Your reflexes are not that good,” Ruby promises. “And we are wasting time. Also, do you think Jones knows how to read lips?” “I’ve got no idea.” “What do you know about him?” The question seems unfairly large to start with, but Emma’s got a sinking suspicion that’s not actually one of Ruby’s questions and the weight of disappointment that settles in her gut at the realization that she may not actually have an answer is somewhere close to horrendous. 

“Your silence is overwhelming.” Emma blinks, trying to push impossible tears back in their ducts and she’s going to chew her lower lip in half before the day is over. “It’s not...ok, I know that’s not what you wanted to ask, so can we get to the point of this—” “—No, no, I wanted to ask that. Because I think there’s some seriously shady things happening here and a group of goons on some tourist cruise who call some other dude master is a little terrifying, don’t you think?” “I don’t think Killian was working for that guy.” “Do you know that for sure? Can you know that for sure?” Emma bites her lip again. There’s blood in her mouth. It’s disgusting. And Ruby sighs. “All I’m saying is maybe we should be careful and I…” She exhales, eyes going dangerously thin and Emma braces herself for the riot act. What she gets is almost worse. “Are you in love with him? Is it that brand of stupid?”

Emma’s right knee gives out. Only her right one. It’s kind of weird, but that seems to just be the sub-headline of her life now. And, at least, she doesn’t fall down. 

So, comparatively…

“No,” Emma says, but the word feels heavy and incorrect and Ruby’s head tilt is almost vibrating with judgment. “No.” “No?”

“No.” “I’m going to tell you that I don’t believe you, but—” “—I killed his brother.”

The words fly out of Emma’s mouth, her eyes widening with her own surprise and the noise Ruby makes is not of this world. It sounds like an alien has settled into her body and realized what a god awful race humans are and then decided, unequivocally, that Emma is the worst of the worst and is now desperate to get off this planet. 

The greenhouse gasses are pretty horrible anyway. That’s probably Emma’s fault too. 

Ruby brings both her hands to her temples, blinking far too quickly to be anything except jarring and Emma is running out of lip to bite. She moves to her cheek. 

“Ok, hold on a second,” Ruby mutters. “That is...when? Recently? I thought he said his brother died when he was ten.” “He did.” “And?” “And what? I…” Emma trails off, yanking on the ends of her humidity-ruined hair. They are going way over their thirteen-second limit. “The very short story is that the EMTs said Ingrid suffered a brain hemorrhage. Incredibly rare, immediately fatal and I...didn’t know that. So—” “—Oh my God, you touched her,” Ruby finishes. This is not the first time she’s heard this particular part of the story. Emma nods. “And that meant that…” Her hand flies to her mouth, but it doesn’t do much to silence the gasp she makes. Emma swats at both of her arms, desperate to quiet her or silence whatever guilt is bouncing around her skull and neither thing works. She can feel Killian casting curious glances their direction. 

“I am going to push you in traffic,” Emma warns. “And you will trip over your own heels.” Ruby scowls, absurd with her hand still plastered over her mouth. “You are questionably obsessed with my fashion choices. But Ingrid died. That’s why you had to leave Storybrooke.” “I know. But, ok, you cannot make any noise, do you understand me?” Ruby nods slowly, and there will probably be handprint marks smearing her lipstick. “I came into the kitchen and Ingrid was dead. Sudden and real and I was nine. I didn’t think...I just reacted and then she was alive and I was so happy, but then...well, the universe is a dick and—” Emma can’t bring herself to finish. 

The tears on her cheeks are distracting.

Ruby pulls her hand away from her mouth – lipstick somehow in place, which is actually almost comforting – wrapping her fingers around Emma’s wrist in a way that’s even more comforting. “Does he know?” 

Emma shakes her head. “No. I didn’t know at first. I had no idea what the rules were or are and I wasn’t trying to do that. I...I loved Liam too and he was so good for Killian and Killian...oh, he idolized him. But then I was leaving and he kept saying I was going to come back and—” “—You didn’t ever come back.” “No.”

“Did you want to?” “Every single day.” Ruby exhales through her teeth, and they’re all going to need extensive dental work by the time this is over. “Ok, so, uh...that leads us almost directly to my number one, top of the list, most important question of all time. Who died to make sure Killian Jones didn’t?” “I have no idea,” Emma admits, those particular words far more difficult to say than a secret she’d like to kept under metaphorical lock and key for the rest of her mortal life. 

“Yeah, I figured you were going to say something horrible like that. How does that even work? Is it an age thing? Does it have to be relatively similar.” Emma shrugs. “I think it’s a general proximity thing.” “I was like twenty feet away from you!”

“I wasn’t really thinking,” Emma reasons. “That’s not an excuse, it’s just a fact. I would have been upset if you died.” “Wow, your charity is overwhelming, Em. You know what, I’m going to take all of your reward. Screw that. I didn’t realize I was playing with fire here.” “Metaphorically, I guess.” Ruby kicks at her ankle, nose scrunched. “You make jokes when you're nervous. It’s a coping mechanism.” She grits her teeth, more exaggerated breathing that Emma supposes is warranted in the moment. “And you know what this means?”

“Should I?” “There’s another body somewhere with no reasonable explanation for its death.” Emma’s left knee gives out. “Oh, well, shit.” “That’s eloquent.” “You have something better to suggest?” “Nah,” Ruby says, a grin that feels wholly out of place in a conversation filled with so much death. Emma wishes there weren’t always so much death involved. “But I bet if you ask your boyfriend he’d be able to help. I think he was using some pirate ones before. He seems like a practical treasure trove of frustrated curses.” “Are you making jokes now?” Ruby shrugs, hand moving to Emma’s shoulder. “It’s an observation. And you didn’t contradict boyfriend, just for the record or whatever.” “I don’t have time to be worried about antiquated relationship qualifiers,” Emma mumbles, but the butterflies in her stomach have returned and she wants to know every single thing Killian has learned in the last two decades. 

She really doesn’t want to tell him she killed his brother. 

On accident. 

Kind of. 

She wouldn’t mind kissing him again. 

“Yeah, sure you don’t,” Ruby laughs. “Alright, well, we’ve got a serious check-list of things we need to accomplish before anyone else realizes we’re trying to accomplish them. No time like the present, right?”

She’s gone before Emma can begin to formulate a response – a twist of red and hair that doesn’t appear prone to humidity and a very particular shine to her shoes that Emma is almost certain she’s developed on her own. 

And Killian is exactly where they left him. 

He licks his lips as soon as his eyes dart towards Emma, eyebrows raised in silent question. They’d always been very good at that, silent communication that used to drive Ingrid and Liam insane in equal measure until Liam threw his whole head back and taught them morse code so they could at least learn something practical and they used to flash lights at each other from across the street when they were supposed to be asleep. 

“Everything alright?” he asks, and Emma makes a noise that is the audible version of the worst lie she’s ever told. “That so?” “I didn’t actually say anything.” “Yeah, you didn’t really have to, did you?” “The mind reading thing isn’t nearly as cute as you think it is.” The tongue stuff has got to stop. It means Emma keeps thinking about Killian’s tongue and that’s a dangerous line of thought and maybe they should get him some new clothes. Seeing him in the clothes he was supposed to be buried in is disconcerting. 

“So you think I’m dreamy and cute?” Killian asks, pushing off the car at the same time his eyebrows defy several laws of gravity. Emma swallows. She wonders how much it would hurt to have to get stitches in her lip. “That’s quite a tandem don’t you think?”

“I think you’re way too confident for your own good and it’s going to get us in trouble.” “What other trouble could I possibly get into, Swan? I’ve already been dead once in the last forty-eight hours, seems to cover most of my bases doesn’t it?” Emma sighs. “Can you pull your hat down? There’s too much of your hair showing.”

He does as asked, tugging with almost too much force. “No one is going to notice me,” Killian says, a promise he can’t possibly make in the middle of a town that knows far too much about both of them. “It’s the middle of the day, anyway. Cora’s probably the only person in the building. You know how she hates to delegate, works through lunch and—” “Yeah, uh,” Ruby interrupts, moving back towards the sidewalk and Emma hadn’t even realized she’d gone into the building. “No one’s really doing anything with lunch in there. Or doing much of anything. At all.” “What does that mean?” Emma asks. 

“This creepy Cora? She’d likely be at a desk that says mayor on a very fancy plaque? Dark hair? Suit that costs more than my yearly rent?” Killian nods. “All of the above.” “Yeah, she’s very dead.” Both of Emma’s knees give out – and she knows Killian moves, an immediate reaction that is equal parts dreamy and cute and absolutely impossible because she’s not wearing nearly enough clothing and there are rules and he can’t catch her. 

She stumbles forward, balance no more than almost precarious as Ruby’s fingers curl around her elbow. “Deep breaths, Em. It’s fine. It’s...you know, it’s fine.” “That was almost as bad as Swan,” Killian mumbles, arm still outstretched like he’ll be able to do something. It takes them all a moment to realize it’s his left arm. He grimaces as soon as his eyes land on the skin there, the sleeve of his shirt hanging over the edge and Emma wants a lot more than she should ever be allowed to even consider, but more than anything she wants to pull his arm into her hands and hold him there and promise it will be ok because he’s ok and it doesn’t matter, none of it matters, them or him or whatever they may be dealing with in the moment, because he looks at her like nothing is wrong. 

He looks at her like he’s been hoping to find her every single day he’s woken up and it’s a feeling Emma understands and wants and maybe Ruby is right. 

That’s kind of annoying. 

Emma hates when Ruby is right. She’s a bad sport about it.

“Did it...well, what do we do?” Killian continues. 

Ruby grins. “What we normally do.” “You want to—” He glances at Emma, mouth hanging open. She tries to smile. It fails miserably. “Oh, yeah, ok,” Killian nods, sounding as if he’s trying to convince himself. “Is that ok, Swan?”

She wishes things would stop surprising her. It can’t possibly be good for her blood pressure or the apparently shoddy state of her knees. But he says it with such sincerity and that hat looks absolutely ridiculous, makes the slight point of ears Emma always teased him about when they were little even more obvious, and he keeps having to push the sunglasses they found in the glove compartment up. 

Emma nods brusquely. “Yeah, of course. I mean...that’s what you were saying before, right? This is kind of my schtick.” “That’s not what I meant. I just...you were plotting.” “I wasn’t plotting without you.” “That’s not what it looked like.” “Ok, we genuinely do not have time for this,” Ruby says, cutting in before Emma can say something absurdly sentimental and decidedly out of place for what has just become another crime scene. “We have negative amount of time for this. Let’s go talk to creepy Cora Mills and get the hell out of here before someone realizes the lurker in the weird hat is dead.” “He’s not dead,” Emma growls, but Ruby just waves her hands in her face and nods as if that word isn’t kind of offensive. 

Killian smiles at her. “It is a kind of weird hat though, Swan.” “It’s not a weird hat! And you’re not dead. Can we please stop using that word? It’s--it’s messing with my head and, like, my lungs and—” “—You’ve got to breathe, love.” “How are you so calm about this?” 

They’re frozen in the doorway of the Storybrooke Town Hall, far too close and not close enough. Ruby is tapping her heel on marble tile now. “I’m not,” Killian says with an ease that belies the look on his face. “I’m frustrated and annoyed and pissed off. At the world and Cora Mills and goons one through six and kind of at you for never coming back because I always wanted you to come back and I wondered and—” She can see every single one of his teeth when he cuts himself off, and Emma wishes he’d stop doing that, but she figures it’s kind of unfair to demand proper sentence structure at this point. 

“I was dead, Swan,” he says, expression softening when Emma makes a face. “That’s a fact. But then you showed up and changed that and I...well, I wasn’t...if this is as dangerous as it might be then I don’t want anything to happen to you.” “Oh.” It’s the worst response. It’s an absolutely lame response, but Emma’s always been a little worried that she’s missing some fundamental piece of her empathy chip and she twists her arms behind her back again to stop herself from touching him. 

“Oh?” “Oh,” Emma repeats, whatever disgusted sound Ruby makes at their distinct lack of conversational progress bouncing off the far too ostentatious walls around them. “I—well, that was kind of nice.” “That was kind of the goal.” “Right. Right, well, mission accomplished, I guess. And, uh...that hat came from a baking contest a couple years ago.” “You were in a baking contest?” “You were making jokes about award-winning pie, but it’s almost true. The five-berry one was described as something close to life-changing.” “Seems to be a trend,” Killian mutters. He moves his hand again, a quick brush of fingertips over the curve of Emma’s shoulder and he shakes his head as soon as she tries to tell him to stop that, God. “That was the last time. Just...making sure.” Emma doesn’t have to ask what he means – knows he’s making sure she’s there and real and this would almost make more sense if it were some very lucid dream. But she figures she wouldn't want to torture herself even in a dream and Emma’s inability to touch a guy she maybe hopes could be referred to as her boyfriend in regular conversation is something she’ll have to contend with eventually. Once they solve his murder and the trail of bodies that seem to be piling up behind him. 

“Let’s go,” Ruby groans from the other end of the hallway. 

“It’s not like Cora’s getting up and walking away,” Emma mutters, working a laugh out of Killian. 

“At least not yet. C’mon, love, I’d rather Cora’s assistant didn’t find us while we were in the middle of this.”

Cora Mills, mayor of Storybrooke since, quite possibly, the dawn of time, looks almost exactly the way Emma remembers her. 

There’s more gray to her hair, a few more wrinkles around her eyes, but she’s still got an air of superiority around her that sets Emma’s teeth on edge. Her suit definitely cost a ridiculous amount of money and the manicure looks nearly immaculate – except on her right hand. It’s not the whole thing, but three of her fingers are missing nails and—

“Oh my God, Cora Mills gets acrylic nails,” Emma laughs. 

“Is that a clue of some sort?” Killian asks, earning more laughter for more sincerity and it is really getting very difficult not to hold his hand. 

“Ah, I like that you said clues. And, no, well, maybe, but...I guess it’s just funny. Acrylic nails are so...tacky.” “Ok, that’s not true at all,” Ruby argues. She’s already picking her way through piles of paperwork, a determined look on her face that usually ends in several stacks of bills untraceable by the IRS. “These aren’t just acrylic. They’re gel and hard gel at that.” “I feel like she’s speaking in code,” Killian says, perched on the edge of Cora’s desk. 

Emma lifts her eyebrows. “Should you be up there?” “What’s she going to do to stop me?” “Jesus,” Ruby growls. “The flirting is honestly disgusting. Also, I am not speaking in code. I am speaking in spa.” “What’s the difference?” “The difference is that hard gel eventually becomes, as its name implies, hard enough to basically be an extension of the nail. Getting those off is some kind of serious bitch. You’ve got to be totally committed to the color.” “None of this makes sense,” Emma fumes, bobbing on her feet and she’s unreasonably nervous to touch a dead person in front of Killian. “Can I just touch her so we can get out of here?” Ruby doesn’t look up from the papers she’s leafing through when she answers. “No one is stopping you, but you’re missing a very important point.” “You lord information over other people when you want to feel in control of a situation.” “And why do you think might I feel out of control in this particular situation?” “Oh, shit, no I get it,” Killian says, jumping off the desk with enough enthusiasm that Emma is really starting to wonder if time travel is possible. “Fuck, that’s not great, is it?” “We won’t know until Emma touches her.” Emma rolls her whole head. “What am I missing?” “Lucas is right, we won’t know until Cora tells us, but,” Killian starts, grinning like a maniac who just discovered what was underneath that one man hole on Main Street, “If hard gel requires a commitment to the color scheme, that means it would take one hell of a fight to pull the nails off, right?” Ruby nods, something that feels like PI pride hanging off her shoulders. “And that means that Cora didn’t just die under natural circumstances.” “I kind of figured that part was obvious considering your rather untimely murder,” Ruby muses. “But I wasn’t sure there was a fight until I noticed Madam Mayor’s rather grimy hands. She didn’t go down quietly.” “If you knew Cora, you’d understand that’s very in character.” “Well, I feel as if it’s time for me to meet the great and powerful Oz.” “That wasn’t funny,” Emma mumbles. Ruby laughs anyway. “Alright,” she huffs, jumping up and down as if that will work out her influx of nervous energy. Killian smirks at her. “I am nervous about this with you here.” “I’m going to take that as a compliment.” Ruby gags. Again. For at least twenty-one seconds straight. “There is a dead person here. Let’s try and keep some perspective. Also what did you say about that assistant?” “Aurora was terrified of Cora,” Killian reasons. “I doubt she’ll be back before the end of lunch. And you’ve got nothing to be worried about, Swan. It’s not going to change anything.” He can’t possibly mean it the way it sounds, but Emma’s brain doesn’t care. It latches to those words and that particular curve of his lips, confident in her and whatever magic she may be in possession of to fix things and control things she shouldn’t be able to control. Killian nods again when Emma wavers, his smile shifting slightly when he raises his right hand to cover his eyes. 

“That better?” he asks. 

Emma has to look down to make sure her entire body has not exploded into flames. It has not. That’s nice. “Yeah,” she breathes. “That’s...that’s good.”

“Can we get on with it?” Ruby drawls. She’s started opening drawers. 

“You may want to move,” Emma suggests. “Sometimes they can get a little flaily when they just wake up.” “Oh, yeah, good point.” She takes the whole drawer with her when she steps to the other side of the office. 

Emma takes a deep breath, tugging her phone out of her pocket and setting the timer and she’s almost pleased to notice that her finger doesn’t shake when she brushes over Cora’s hand. Killian’s fingers shift. 

He’s still smiling. 

And Cora does, in fact, flail. Her limbs are everywhere, impossibly agile and decidedly threatening, even with a few less nails than she’s normally used to. She jerks back as soon as Emma touches her, eyes crazed with a snarl on her face that’s only slightly intimidating. 

Her head snaps around, taking in her surroundings as if she’s surprised to find herself still in the office where she, presumably, died a few minutes earlier. 

“Oh,” Cora says, some of the fight almost visibly falling off her. “That’s—” She glances around again, and the curse she growls at all of them as soon as her eyes land on Killian is enough to make Emma’s hair curl without any humidity involved. ‘No, no, no,” Cora stammers. “What the hell are you doing here?” “That’s the million dollar question isn’t it?” Killian asks. “Who killed you, Cora?” “Where’s your hand?”

“Full of tact as always, ma’am.” “That’s not a question of tact, although if you’d like to discuss upbringing, I’d be only too happy to share some thoughts on your uncles and what they’ve done to that beautiful house.” “Did you think I had both of my hands when I died?”

“I didn’t think they’d take it, no.” “They?” “Listen,” Emma interrupts. “You’ve got like...fifty seconds to tell us everything that’s happened to you today and why you’re missing nails.” Cora blinks. “I wasn’t going to sit there and take it. That goon—” “—A goon,” Ruby cuts in. “What kind of goon?” “Is this heaven? Because that’s...well, that’s a little surprising, honestly.” “It’s not heaven,” Killian promises. “But there’s the possibility for some serious karmic retribution if you answer our questions. I make no guarantees about where you’ll end up, although I imagine not being a complete and utter harpy can only help you.” Cora laughs, dark and threatening. “Oh, you were always far too confident for your own good, Jones. I’d imagine the people who killed me are the same people who got rid of you. Although why they brought you back to Storybrooke, I’ll never understand.” “Is that why you offered the reward?” Ruby asks. “Covering your own ass?” “That’s a little crass, but sufficient.” “Who were these people?” Killian presses. “You never actually said.” “And yet you were only all too happy to agree weren’t you? Desperate to get out of this town and away from this life. It was the perfect opportunity for both of us.” “Explain that.”

Cora bristles at the command, Emma still sitting there silent and nervous and she hates how knowing the gaze that flashes towards her is. “Oh,” Cora says. “There’s something interesting about you, isn’t there? And it...it matches up with his.” Emma jerks her head up. “Who’s what?” “Jones. Can’t you feel that? Ah, well maybe you can’t, but that’s always been my own particular talent. That’s why they recruited me of course.” “Who?” Killian shouts, standing up and Emma hears Ruby’s breath hitch. He’s furious, that much is obvious, but it’s more than that, a hint of darkness and frustration that wasn’t there when they were kids and it makes him feel taller and more threatening than anything else in that room. “You’re running out of time here, Cora. Straight answers.” “Fine,” she snaps. “Sit down, you’re acting like a petulant child. I’ve...well, I’ve been endowed with several gifts in my life and one of my more...appealing gifts is the ability to see into someone’s heart.” “What?” “If you’d like an explanation, then it’s probably in your best interest not to interrupt.” Killian doesn’t sit down, but he doesn’t say anything else and Emma moves to the front of her seat when his fingers wrap around the back of her chair. “As I was saying,” Cora continues. “I’m rather good at seeing what people want. Deepest desires and darkest feelings, those hopes and needs we’ve done our best to hide away from the rest of the world. And our mutual employer found that very interesting. He wanted someone with your particular abilities to help him, Mr. Jones.” “I don’t have any particular abilities,” Killian says. Emma hopes she doesn’t crack the chair.

Cora shakes her head, smile turning mocking. “I believed that for a very long time too, but that’s not true. I can see it, Mr. Jones and I can feel it. It’s...not quite as strong as Ms. Swan, yes, I remember you too, but it’s there. And it seems to time up very well with hers.” “With my what?” Emma demands, almost too aware of the ticking seconds on her phone. 

“Why your magic, of course. Both of you. It’s admittedly unfortunate that you had to die for it, Mr. Jones, but I’d imagine you walked right into it.”

“There’s no magic here,” Killian says, but Cora is already shaking her head and looking far too smug. She narrows her eyes. 

“The darkness is always interested in finding more of us whenever he can.” Emma freezes, mouth hanging open and breath coming in decidedly unattractive pants. Killian curses – loudly. And they almost suffer another disaster, a case of proximity and the whims of the universe, but Ruby’s shrill Emma, fuck wakes her up and she more or less slaps Cora across the face. 

It’s oddly satisfying. 

None of them say anything. There’s not much to say. Magic is a child’s story, but Emma can wake the dead and make sure they stay dead and the buzzing in her head roared to life at Cora’s words, like it was reveling in them and there’s got to be an explanation for this. 

This explanation, however, only seems to spark more questions. 

That’s less satisfying. 

“So,” Ruby says, eventually breaking the silence and Cora looks worse now than she did when they first found her. “That uh...didn’t really help us much at all, did it?”

“None of that made sense,” Killian mutters. “That’s—”

“—You going to tell me that magic is impossible when you just watched your girlfriend undead and redead someone?” “There’s got to be a better way of phrasing that,” Emma mumbles. She lets her head drop forward, colliding with the wood of the desk painfully. 

Ruby makes a noise that is, hopefully, an agreement. “Yeah, probably. So, uh...you do anything magical recently, Jones?” “That’s the part that doesn’t make any sense,” he says. “I never even learned how to do card tricks. I...I wanted to get out of Storybrooke and Cora gave me an avenue to do that while helping Nemo. That’s all there was to it.” “Still doesn’t help us much as far as figuring out who you were both, apparently, working for.” “She said him,” Emma whispers, the realization striking her like lightning and several other natural disasters. She hears Killian shift, letting go of the chair to move around her and he’s crouched next to her when she moves her head. “Cora, I mean. Whatever she was talking about with magic. She said the darkness is looking for that, but she said him. As in a human male.” “Or an alien male,” Ruby suggests. “Let’s be as inclusive as possible. Could even be an animal, right? A really dangerous...dark cat? What’s a terrifying animal? Oh, God, what about an alligator? Right, right? Apex predator.”

“It’s a crocodile,” Killian mutters. His knees must be killing him. He doesn’t try to stand up. “Those jaws could snap a whole person right in half. Plus, they’re scaly, so that just makes them untrustworthy. Thoughts, Swan?”

Emma can’t shrug when she’s more or less draped across a dead mayor’s desk and they are pressing their luck staying that office with the same dead mayor, but she makes a valiant effort and that’s really all she can ask of herself right now. “You said it was shady, didn’t you? The whole thing on the boat—ship, yeah, God, that’s...it’s stupid that you keep doing that.” “It’s a control thing,” Killian admits with a smile. “But, yeah, it felt incredibly shady. And...wrong.” “What does that mean?” “I don’t know how to explain it without sounding like a complete and total crazy person. “Try me.” 

Killian sighs, but it’s not frustration. It’s more nerves and concern and Emma knows part of that, most of it really, is directed at her. She’s going to give herself carpal tunnel from tensing her fists so often. “It felt wrong,” he starts. “I don’t...it was like I could hear it.” Emma’s elbow falls off the desk. She’s very glad she’s already sitting down. “You could hear what? Exactly?” “Buzzing?” “Why was that a question?” “Because you seem to already have a very strong idea of what my answer was going to be, Swan.”

“God,” Ruby chuckles. “When this is all over, Jones, remind me to offer you a job. You’re incredibly good at reading people.” He shakes his head, eyes not leaving Emma. “Just her.”

The rush of everything that shoots from the top of Emma’s head to the very tips of her toes isn’t quite as overwhelming as it probably should be. She’s got her suspicions about that – the look on Killian’s face and how goddamn blue his eyes are and whatever his mouth does when, she assumes, he feels it too – but Emma’s never been very good at actually voicing her emotions. 

And Killian has always known anyway. 

Plus Ruby would probably make fun of them. 

“Did you feel that?” Emma asks softly, another unnecessary question. They need to get out of Storybrooke. She’s going to bake twenty-six pies. At least. 

Killian nods. “Did you hear that?” “The buzzing?” “The buzzing.” “Yeah, I did.” “Ok, good.” “Good?” Emma echoes, and her voice cracks traitorously on the word. Killian moves, shifting his weight back onto his heels as soon as she presses her lips back together. He wiggles his fingers, like he’s trying to stop himself from touching her and Emma is fairly sure she doesn’t imagine his mumbled fuck it before he reaches forward, stopping just short of the bend in her knee. He doesn’t touch her. 

That’s for the best. 

Or so she’ll tell herself on loop while she bakes those twenty-six pies. 

“It means we’re both equally crazy,” Killian mutters, Ruby cackling at the sentiment. Emma blinks, not quite crying, but drifting dangerously close and her shoulders droop when she exhales loudly. 

“Yeah, I think it might be exactly that.”

“Well, now that we’ve settled all of that,” Ruby announces, stuffing what appear to be a few receipts into her jacket pocket, “let’s say we evacuate the crime scene, do a little bit more research on some kind of mythical darkness from the outer reaches of space and then maybe get Jones some new clothes to wear?” "I really don’t think we’re dealing with aliens,” Emma reasons. 

“And where exactly do you suggest we get me new clothes?” Killian adds, holding his arm out when Emma moves towards the office door. She mutters gentleman under her breath and he winks at her. “I don’t know that some kind of makeover montage is really in order,” Ruby sticks her tongue out. “I have clothes.” “I’m not sure I’d be able to keep my balance in your heels.” “Yeah, yeah, you’re absolutely hysterical. And you couldn’t even hold your own in my heels. But you might be able to do something in some t-shirts.” “At least solve a few more crimes.” “I think we’re still just dealing with one.” “Small miracles,” Emma mumbles. “Although you should get some new clothes. These are…” She doesn’t finish – not sure if it’s offensive or just plain ridiculous, but they were also just talking about aliens, so Emma figures she’s well within her right when it comes to ridiculous. 

“Yeah, it is a little macabre, isn’t it?” Killian asks. 

“Good word.” “Voracious reader with a very smart vocabulary.” “Is that what you tell all the girls when you meet them?” He snorts. Ruby groans. “No,” Killian says. “That’s what Shakespeare used to say when I’d use that same smart vocabulary to tell him that no one was interested in hearing another soliloquy.” “Did he recite soliloquies often?” “Almost as often as he liked to critique my clothing choices. He was never very big on the leather jackets.” Emma’s reaction to that is one-hundred percent more ridiculous than the alien idea. “Huh.” The tips of Killian’s ears go red. 

“That was super smooth, Em,” Ruby mutters, ushering them both back into the hallway as soon as the footsteps in the hallway start to grow louder. “But I’m not super interested in getting arrested this afternoon, so, if you two would be so kind…”

Emma nods quickly, Killian tugging his hat further down and pushing the sunglasses back up the bridge of his nose. They’re back in the car, key turning in the ignition when they hear, what Emma assumes, is Aurora’s scream. 

“How did you decide you wanted to open a pie place?” 

Emma tilts her head, several hours after a fashion clinic in Ruby’s apartment and Ruby’s absolute refusal to explain why she had so much disposable clothing of the men-type variety. “Pie place,” she repeats slowly, stirring the mixture in front of her. 

Killian grabs a strawberry. 

“Ok, stop that,” Emma snaps, but there’s a distinct lack of annoyance in her voice. It’s almost too obvious how easily he’s charming her. “We’re not going to have anything to put in the pie. And this was your idea.” It was – laden down with at least a week’s worth of clothes and a few options for shirts because, you know, you need some extra shirts, Jones, Killian and Emma had walked back to her restaurant, slightly cautious steps because, for the first time since this had all started, there was a break in the action and a lull in the momentum and he asked if she’d bake something. 

“I can help,” Killian added quickly, flashing her a smile, her smile , and Emma couldn’t argue with that. He’d probably been banking on that. 

“And it was a very good idea,” Killian says. “I’m just trying to spark some conversation while you do whatever it is you’re doing. What is it you’re doing, incidentally?” “Making crust.” “You make your crust?” “Oh my God, that’s honestly the rudest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

Killian shakes his head, reaching forward to try and steal a handful of raspberries. “That can’t possibly be true.” “It is and then some,” Emma promises. “You think I...what? Use frozen pie crust in my actual pie restaurant? That’s ghastly.” He nearly chokes on his handful of raspberries. “Did you just suggest that frozen pie crust is ghastly? Did that really just happen?” “It is. It’s all processed and there’s way too much sugar in it and it’s not good. It’s...there’s no feeling involved.” Killian doesn’t freeze, exactly, but it’s awfully close and Emma wonders if, maybe, some of Cora’s claimed magic has shifted to him. Like a magical barnacle. She kind of feels as if he can see straight into her or through her, she’s not sure which is worse. 

“You bake with a lot of feeling, Swan?” 

“No,” Emma grumbles. She needs to find a whisk. And buttermilk. “Can you open the fridge for me? And if you try and steal any more of my filling, I’m going to hide all your clothes on you and then what will you do?” “That seems to suggest you think I won’t leave the apartment in your clothes.”

“I bet you a magillion dollars you would not do that.” His shoulders shake with his laugh – the sound finding its way to Emma’s ears despite most of his head pushed into the refrigerator. “How many zeros would you say are in a magillion? Also what am I looking for in here? You haven’t actually given me any instructions.” “Oh, uh, buttermilk and just like...as much butter as you can carry.”

“That is not very specific.” “I don’t need it to be specific.” Killian glances at her over his shoulder, a wry look on his face and the prickle of something at the base of Emma’s skull kind of feels like sticking her hand into a fire. It’s not uncomfortable, just little brushes of warmth and familiarity, but she’s a little worried about getting burned by the whole, entire thing. 

She wishes she’d stop thinking in metaphor. 

“Isn’t baking some kind of exact science?” Killian asks. “I always thought you had to follow a baking recipe to the letter.” “Whoever told you that was a great, big, enormous liar.” “Wow, that is just...a sweeping judgment.” Emma shrugs. “It’s true. Baking is, well, at least for me, it’s instinctual. God, did that sound as weird out loud as I think it did?” “It didn’t.” He has to bump the refrigerator door closed with his hip, which probably shouldn’t be as attractive as it is. “But it did sound as if you’re baking with a little bit more than feeling, love. So, let’s have it. Why’d you open the pie place?” Emma considers her answer for a moment – the idea of lying about it particularly appealing, but then he’s dumping ten sticks of butter onto her counter and there’s a jug of buttermilk pinned to his side with his blunted arm and anything except the absolute truth seems entirely unfair. 

To both of them. 

“It always felt like home,” Emma says. “And I’m...well, at the risk of sounding like a melodramatic idiot, this is something I’m really good at.” “That’s not melodramatic. It’s not entirely true, but it’s not melodramatic.” “You don’t know enough about me to know it’s not true.” Killian shakes his head, the smile on his face making it very difficult to come up with all those reasons Emma was so certain of a few seconds before. “I think I still know you pretty well. And I know you’re far too hard on yourself. It’s not necessary. Although,” he adds, grabbing a stick of butter and a knife, “you want these chopped?” “Yes, into, like...just, you know follow the lines on the wrapper? Was that your follow-up question?” “No, no, I just figured I should continue to pull my weight around here.” “It’s been kind of a ridiculous few days, I think you could get a pass.” Another head shake. This one is a little more tired and a little more anxious and several of Emma’s internal organs lurch at the sight. “I’d be very interested in knowing every single about you from the last twenty years.” She giggles. An honest to God, real life giggle. It feels like it bubbles straight out of her soul and explodes into rainbows and those little animated hearts that showed up on the Saturday morning cartoons they used to watch when they were kids, the ones that always showed how in love a character was. 

Damn, Emma hates when Ruby is right. 

“What do you want to know?” Emma asks, and Killian beams. While cutting up butter. 

They’re sitting on the floor of the kitchen twenty minutes later, pie in the oven and a bowl of berries in between them –  We’re getting real berries, Swan, if you’re going to bake the pie, the least you can do is eat it too – and Emma knows her teeth are stained blue. It doesn’t seem to be bothering Killian, who doesn’t seem to have an end to his list of questions. 

“Ok, what about prom?” “What about it?” “Did you go?” “And you dare to suggest you know me.” He rolls his head onto his shoulder, unimpressed. “I don’t need to rehash old points of the conversation, Swan. An answer, please and thank you.” “No,” Emma shakes her head. “I was...somewhere at that point, shit, when are you supposed to go to prom?” “I don’t know, I didn’t go.” “You didn’t go?” “Do you know me? It was far too middle America. I had no use for corsages or tuxedos or spending all that money on a limo to just stand awkwardly on a dance floor. Plus, you know, it’d probably help to have some friends who would want to go. Or a girl.” He mumbles the last few words, refusing to meet Emma’s gaze and she hates how stunned she is. She’s incredibly stunned. “God, what a bunch of idiots.” “Who? Me and you?” “No, well, yes, but mostly the teenage population of Storybrooke whenever you’re technically supposed to go to prom. Probably like sixteen, right? They’re the idiots. I bet you’d be a great dancer anyway.” Killian chuckles, soft and still a little nervous, which makes Emma’s organs react again, but she’s also pretty positive she can feel something in the admittedly minimal amount of space between them and it might be magic. 

She kind of hopes it’s magic. 

It feels a lot like what she thinks magic would feel like. 

“That’s an awful lot of confidence you’re throwing my direction, Swan.” “I’m not throwing it,” Emma argues. “I’m placing it. Lightly. At your feet. Which I’m sure are incredibly rhythmic.” “I’d at least be able to ask Shakespeare for some lessons. I’m sure he’s got tips.” Emma hums, not entirely in agreement, but mostly in contentment. “When’d you get your first leather jacket?” “I was fourteen.” “Wow, a bad boy from a very young age.” “Nah, a wanna-be. Mostly because I thought it’d make me look cool and, well...I remembered Liam having one when he was younger.” Emma doesn’t gasp. She’s proud of herself for that. She does, however, lick her lips and that might be worse because Killian notices and that means Killian is looking at her lips. It suddenly feels impossibly warm in her kitchen. 

“That must have been before I got to Storybrooke,” Emma murmurs, and Killian nods. 

“Yeah, I think it must have been. Ok. What about…movie...snack?” “Popcorn. With melted malt balls on top.” Killian makes a scandalized noise, complete with tongue and that only means Emma is also staring at her lips. Maybe they are the idiots of this story. “That is disgusting,” he proclaims. “How do you make that?” “Oh, it’s a very refined recipe. Lots of boiling and melting and—” She can’t help but laugh when he gapes at her, some of the tension twisting in between her shoulders loosening at the color of his eyes. “C’mon. I use a microwave. It’s the least complex thing I make.”

“That still sounds disgusting. It can’t be very healthy.” “Strangely enough I’m not thinking about my blood pressure when I’m watching movies.” “Favorite?” “Hmmmm?” “Your favorite movie,” Killian says, pausing between every word as if Emma is under oath and the fate of several different galaxies rests on her answer. They’re not actually dealing with aliens. “When we were kids it was—” “—Still is. That, uh...that hasn’t changed.”

He’s silent for a moment, another far too charged moment with irregular temperatures and the growing scent of a pie with way more berries than the recipe called for hanging in the air. And then he’s moving, reaching up towards the counter and knocking the roll of saran wrap on the floor, plastic spilling at his feet. 

“Ah, damn,” Killian sighs. “That’s not nearly as romantic as I was hoping it would be.” Emma clicks her tongue. “I think it went ok.” “Something about kissing, right? At the end? Most passionate, most pure...this one left them all behind. That’s how it goes?” “Yeah,” she breathes, yanking off a far-too-long sheet of saran wrap. “Is this a kissing book?” “I’d very much like it to be.”

Emma giggles again – straight into the plastic and against his mouth and she sees him shift, doing his best to keep any other limbs away from her and how much she wants to touch his goddamn hair. They stay in each other's space for a moment, quick kisses that turn back into longer ones that turn into quick and bruising and a slew of other adjectives that probably look ridiculous to anything else. 

It feels a little life-changing to Emma. 

Killian is the first one to make a noise that time, a victory of the make-out variety for Emma and her distinct lack of make-out experience. He opens his mouth against her, like he wants to tug on her lower lip or do something that involves the tongue that’s been distracting her all day, and both of those are impossible. Emma appreciates the effort. 

“I stole gloves from Ruby’s apartment,” Killian mumbles through the plastic against her chin, and Emma startles at that. 

“Is that code?” “We should come up with a code. I bet that’d infuriate Ruby.” “You’ve known Ruby for point two seconds and you’re already trying to infuriate her?” “Don’t forget stealing from her. That’s really the important part.” “Why’d you steal glove?” Emma asks, still a little breathless and a little giggly and a little something after all those kisses. And she kind of knows the answer. 

Killian kisses her through the crumpled-up plastic again. “To hold your hand.”

“Emma. Emma, are you there?” Emma blinks blearily, trying to take in her surroundings and there isn’t anything there. She’s standing on nothing, nothing but darkness around her and a distinct lack of anything. The voice yells her name again. 

“What the hell…” Emma starts, stumbling backwards when she blinks and there are two people standing in front of her. 

The woman is shorter than the man, dark hair in a pixie cut and a soft look to her eyes that feels like it could wrap around Emma and protect her for the rest of forever and, at the same time, cut down anyone who dared to threaten that. The man isn’t much taller than Killian, hair almost sandy in color and a set of his jaw that feels far too familiar. 

Emma curses. It’s distinctly piratical. 

The woman’s eyebrows leap. “Oh,” she mutters, but the man is laughing and he sounds kind of proud. “Well, that was...I mean, that’s fair.”

“What is going on?” Emma demands. 

“You have to listen to us, Emma. This is important and there isn’t much time. But...things are happening now that have been destined to happen since, well, the dawn of time—” “—What?” “Don’t interrupt,” the man chides. He’s smiling at Emma. And it all feels like déjà vu and answers to questions Emma’s never wanted to ask for fear of what she’ll find out. She bites her tongue. 

“It’s going to get difficult, sweetheart,” the woman continues. “But it won’t always be like that. You won’t always be like that. And, I promise, he’ll understand.” Emma blinks. “Who? Who will understand, what?”

“It’s going to be worth it, Emma. No matter what you think. Love is always worth it.”

Emma opens her mouth to ask what the hell are you talking about again, but she takes a breath and everything shimmers and her phone is ringing. 

“You’ve got to answer that, love,” Killian mumbles, back on the living room floor with a glove on his right hand and fingers brushing Emma’s forearm. 

Emma shakes her head, trying to get rid of metaphorical and possible literal cobwebs and she’s already having a difficult time remembering what she just saw. She grabs her phone off the coffee table, nearly hitting her head in the process and Ruby is already talking as soon as Emma swipes her thumb across the screen. 

“Em,” she says sharply. “You’ve got to get down here. They found another body.”

[ironwoman18]

We found love in a hopeless place part 19

Chapter 19: Some Family moments

Before the party Dom had a conversation with Max about staying that night at his house, he wanted to make sure nothing will happen to them, because they will return late that night.

He knew Spencer would protect her but he just wanted to take extra precautions. She, at first, seemed unsure about it but at the end she accepted these.

She told Spencer and he accepted this condition. He really likes the relationship between Max and her father so he could not say no to that. He put in his suitcase his pj's and a shirt and pants, next to the travel kit he use with the FBI.

So when they arrived at the Brenner's house after the party, Spencer got his case and walked in.

Max led him to her old bedroom and while she was in the bathroom cleaning her face and he changed his clothes.

"Thank you for accepting stay here at night" she said from the bathroom "it means a lot to me and him"

"You are welcome" he smiled "I just love how he cares about you and your sisters. It makes me think about my childhood and how I didn't have a father's figure back then" she looked at him and she dried her face then walked to him and sat on his lap.

"Do you want to talk about it?" She asked playing with the hair on his neck softly.

He looked into her eyes "he left me and my mom when everything was getting worst with her condition and after she helped a neighbor to kill a pedophile. After that I met him again and I discovered what I just told you" he looked down then back at her "he never talk to me again after that. Then the next father figure I had was Jason and he left too"

"So you lost your father and Jason" she said stroking his hair softly.

"Yes and when I see fathers worrying for their children, I just..." She hugged him tight and kisses his cheek.

"My father loves you like a son, he always talk about you when his friends and I think Michelle's husband is jealous" he laughed softly at that "so now my dad is yours too baby" she cleaned his tears "ok?" He nodded and kisses her softly.

"Thank you Max" he smiled and she stood up to lay next to him and they felt asleep almost immediately in each other's arms.

The next morning the couple got a shower and went down stairs to make breakfast. Max's father was already there making coffee.

"Good morning kids" he smiled at them "how did you sleep?"

"Really good thank you sir" Spencer smiled at him.

"Spencer remember that you can call me Dom, no sir" he laughed and handed Spencer and Max their coffee cups "I'm making pancakes, oh by the way Max, Michelle is coming tonight. We will have a Star Wars marathon before the premier of episode 8" he smiled "Sammy's dad haven't watched the movies and Sammy wanted him to check them out. You are invited too Spencer"

"I would love to. And I would like to do a horror movies marathon too since is October"

"Oh my...!! You are right! I have old horror  movies and maybe we can watch them after star wars"

Max watched them with a little smirk, remembering their conversation last night. He surely will adopt her dad as his own because they had so much in common.

"Max?"

"Umm?" She looked at her father.

"I asked you what did you think?"

"I love the idea. And I'm sure we will enjoy these movie nights" Dom smiled big and turned to cook.

"Are you ok? You barely talked" asked Spencer in a whisper.

"Yeah I was thinking about what we talked yesterday, and realized how happy you seem with him" she rubbed his cheek "I love see you happy and I will do anything to keep it there way" she smiled and kissed his cheek.

He hugged her and kissed her forehead "I love you and I feel the same"

She hugged him back and laid her head on his chest "Spencer today I was invited me and other art teachers to the Smithsonian, to check a place to book for special activities there. And after that we can stay in the museum so I was wondering if you would like to go with me?"

"Of course I would love to" she smiled and after breakfast the couple left the house to the museum.

There were lots of other teachers taking notes and asking questions about the place and the possible activities. The place was beautiful and the big enough for big groups.

Some even took photos of the place to show the principal of the school. And after the one hour tour and questions they were free to see the paintings and sculptures.

Max took the lead explaining things to him and he surprised her with his knowledge.

"Why so surprised? I'm dating an artist so I read about it" she laughed softly and hugged him.

"I'm surprised because you are the first boyfriend that showed interest in this world"

"I love to learn things and if it's something you love then I want to know it too" she kissed him quickly and wrapped her arms around him.

After that they were to a place to eat something and left the museum back to the Brenner's house to watch the movie.

"I missed you last week. I don't like those long cases"

"Me too and I'm thankful that there're not back to back cases like a few years ago. Even the BAU boss sent us home because we spent lots of days on the road"

"I'm glad those days are over" she laughed.

"Not over but not as usual"

"Ok I understand" she looked at him "then I will pray so that never happens again" he laughs and held her hand.

They arrived to the house and there were Michelle and her family waiting for them.

Sammy was playing with some Lego figures of the Star Wars collection while the adults talked.

When they arrived they joined the conversation until they were ready for the movie.

"Ok we will watch the movies in release date. So first A New Hope, next week will the The Empire Strike Back, then The Return of the Jedi. Then we will watch the prequels and we will finish with The Force Awakens and Rouge One. So on December we can enjoy Episode 8" finished Domband all of them nodded. Then he played the movie.

They ate popcorn and drank soft drinks. Then the adults watched an old horror movie while Sammy was sleeping.

Later that night Spencer, Dom and Phil, Michelle's husband, were talking random things about the movies. Then the other two men started to talk about sports, Spencer just added stats he read on the newspaper.

Meanwhile Michelle and Max were talking.

"How are things with you two?"

"Pretty good. He's wonderful and I just can't stop loving him more every day"

"I'm so happy about you Max..."

"But...?"

"But I'm worry because of his job"

"I understand that because I felt the same at the beginning but I know he will keep himself safe for us. But I know it's a risk"

"I'm just worry because I see you love him and I'm sure he does too" she looked at her "just know that his job is dangerous"

"I know Michelle" she held her hand "but I know he won't let anything happens to him"

The older sister just nodded and looked at the three men. Then each couple left the house after another hour of talking.

Spencer drove behind Max and when she walked in the building he drove to his house. Those few days were amazing and full of something he never had, real family moments, and he will do everything to protect those memories and to have more.

Max opened things he never had but were welcome.

OOooOOooOO

That's all for this chapter. I really love building cute moments for these two. I want to talk about some important moments in this season like when Linda sent him to be a full time teacher and forced Dave to retire. Or when he left the team to look for this agent kidnapped by the cult in the season finale.

So maybe I will speed up October and November. Then the wedding of Spencer's friend and I will start the situation with Linda.

Comment are welcome and if you have any ideas my inbox is open. Love you all and thank you for keep reading this.

[imaginedcreaderinsert]

Reader and her boyfriend get into an argument at the tower and he hits her? Dick is furious because he’s in love with her but the reader is just embarrassed?

Thanks for the request and I’m so sorry it took so long! But alas, here it is. I really wanted to write this one, as well as some other I have pending, but I just couldn’t find the words. I’m not 100% satisfied with this one (there’s no lemoney or anything unu), but I think I made my point across towards the important thing of this relationship. Don’t stay in one where physical abuse is condoned!

SUMMARY: As stated by ask, thought I think I took some liberties, Reader has been a Vigilante for some time in California, all on her own. The Titans arrive, and both join forces: Dick and Reader click specially well together, but to his demise, she is already in a relationship. A happy one? He cannot really say, specially when the red flags start to arise and a surprising discovery comes up.

WORD COUNT: 4780

TW: Swearing and past mentions of physical abuse in a relationship. It’s not hardcore, as always I try to make it somewhat vague, but I thought I should let my readers know. Oh, and warning, I THINK, Dick in this one is somewhat OOC. I think it might be due to my lack of sleep, but just beware.

Please don’t give it up — Dick Grayson x Reader

They all dealt with their own human affairs in the best fashion that they knew. The secret identities were given; it was something that no one was supposed to share unless absolutely necessary (which hadn’t been the case yet), and thus the exertion of powers was forbidden (unless, again, of absolute necessity). No one got into no one’s business, and as hard as it was becoming, Dick himself made that rule after having Kori meddled into his own private relationships. So now he couldn’t come between (Y/N) and his stupid human boyfriend, as much as he wanted to. It was stupid anyways – as much people liked him in, he was definitively not supposed to be there.

           But he should start from the beginning. (Y/N) had joined the group a little after the Titans had settled themselves down on the Tower. She had already been a Vigilante in San Francisco; thus “they” were the ones entering her territory. She worked the city alone, and as such received the help without resentment or suspicions. After all, all she wanted to do was keep safe as much as anyone else. It was her home after all. As a lonely vigilante (Y/N) tended to go on her own, and maybe that’s why she had such a crazy magnetism to Dick. She never spoke too much of anything unless questioned, she was intelligent and clearly knew everything she talked about. In that sense she was a bit like Tim: definitely not the star or talker of the room, but the most intelligent by far. She had started to join forces with the Titans before her official joining months before their first crisis on the city: massive bombings, attacks on civilian areas. It was pure terror, specially in the famous Golden Gate Bridge (who would have said they would be JUST like those superheroes in movies?). That was, if Dick remembers correctly, the first time he saved (Y/N)’s boyfriend. Now he wishes he would have just let his car sunk in the bottom of the ocean.

           The crisis had made them both coordinate; she had taken care of a certain area of the city all by herself (she had been backed up after with the help of the Titans, reluctantly he must said), while his group and some more had taken care of the other. They had been a good team, good leaders. (Y/N) accepted her place within them, as one more but always above everyone else. Dick and everyone else thought something would flourish between them that same night, when they got tipsy and drunk celebrating the latest addition: they had been a bit touchy, jabbing each other with witty jokes and comebacks, until… She had just excused herself, saying she had to go back to her own apartment. He perfectly remembers the conversation and the silence following it:

           “You know the Tower is just your home as much as-“

           “Yeah, no, absolutely. You’re the sweetest. Seriously, I just have to go check on somebody after the crazy day. And I should definitively feed my dog.”

           “Oh yeah? I had one too back in Gotham. Well, half. Ace was never really mine.”

           “Really? I’m sure he misses you. I would.” And yes, she must have been flirting; the rest of the Titans had given them space, moving towards the windows while they appeared to be exiting. Her small and hot hand had paused on his chest, maybe just trying to keep stable. “Byron is always like crazy when I get home. I really hope Daryl has taken him today to the vet, though. Ugh, who knows, he told me-“

           “I’m assuming Byron is your dog and Daryl your br-?”

           “Boyfriend, yeah. We’ve been now some time.”

           At that point they had been at the elevator, she almost in and him in a “suave” manner leaning into the iron of the doors so that the conversation could go in a little bit more. But he almost stumbled into it as soon as she said that: and everyone else could, seeing as there was a bit of a silence and after some not-so-glamorous half-laughing half-choking sounds from Wally.

           And that had been one of their last nights alone. At least for some time, seeing as Dick thought it would be just a momentary infatuation, a bit of a crush. Something temporary based solely on lust, seeing as he knew little to nothing on her. She was secretive still, quiet, as commandeering as she could be at times. She was an enigma that Dick liked to detangle and know more than he would admit to himself. It had taken months for him to finally acknowledge that what he felt was definitively something more meaningful that a simple crush or shallow sexual desire.

           That’s when he knew he was fucked.

           …

           “Oh, no, no, he is currently working at the San Francisco Chronicle. Yeah, he’s a photographer. Would you mind if maybe we… Posed sometime for him? Or gave him something exclusive? I mean, I would do it myself but he knows me too well. He would know it’s me.” Dick, Wally and her had been sparring for a bit. More concretely, she and Wally had been. He was correcting both of them from aside, seeing as it had become increasingly difficult to talk without actually falling for her. Wally honestly felt bad for him.

           “What do you mean? Haven’t you-? Does he know?”. Wally was probably the only one with a stable healthy relationship. Linda knew. They were perfect. Everyone knew they would get married, and that’s why Dick had backed off, thinking that was the case for (Y/N) and the nameless perfect boyfriend he had pictures in his own mind.

           “No! No, fuck, no. Daryl is… Difficult, to say the least. He thinks I’m working at some crappy editorial. He’s a bit protective. And a bit of an asshole.” It sounds slightly bitter, added in the last second, improvised. Like she didn’t mean to say it. Her eyes cross his, and she quickly averts it, going back to Wally’s. “We’ve been together for years, but it’s not the type of thing I would tell him”

           “Yes, I know. It’s the type of thing you tell to a stupid bunch of teenage kids with delirious dreams of sweet greatness and-OUCH. That hurts!”

           “Keep your head on the game, West.”

           He gains hope. That small breach he has caught you on, after some months half-ignoring you half putting distance between you both, he thinks he may be able to fill. He can be the glue. He will try, as douchey as it can sound.

           …

           “You are insufferable, Dick Grayson!”. She shouts, as they enter the kitchen. She is using a small towel to take off the sweat from her forehead. Wally had been more of a tutorial in comparison with Dick’s force. He had full on challenged her. “So smug, fuck… And now I have to go back home like this. I hate you.”

           “Can’t help it. You like to be riled up”. He is bold. Wally chokes on his water, and quickly excuses himself, probably knowing which way he was trying to take things to. And he definitively was not good at hiding emotions.

           “Oh, come on, like you don’t like to be defied and challenged. You have a huge masochistic streak, Grayson”.

           YOU DON’T EVEN KNOW, he screams inside his own head, smiling just a bit, in that way that makes her roll her eyes off. Even if she claims some kind of rush when saying she has to go, he can see she doesn’t want to. Her arms rest on the kitchen counter, cool marble that has her face in pure bliss, and her legs, he imagines, are jelly. She should just-

           “Why don’t you take a shower at the Tower stay? Or… At the very least I can call you a taxi.”

           “I don’t have clothes here, and it’s fine. I’m not spending much time at home anyways; I think it will be good…” There’s a small silence, where he thinks he might have fucked it up. Did it sound too forward? Could he ask how things were with the famous boyfriend? No, that was probably too petty, too jealous-“… But I won’t say no to the taxi. Just today, though.”

           “Sure. Let me call it up.”

           …

           That brings the problems.

           “I’m sorry, I will be back in a second. It’s urgent.” They were in the middle of a debriefing. Patrols for the week, which she takes more seriously than anyone – but the mobile had started vibrating like crazy, even she had it on silence. Apparently, that one contact was special and overruled every control and silent tone. Dick could only imagine who it was. “Just continue.”

           She takes it up, and her voice changes immediately: sweet, cheerful, giggly. Even as he continues talking, Dick can hear her feet on their way to the lounge, as far as possible. Is it that private? He can’t get distracted as he is giving out missions, but her tone makes all of them stop, stare at the door where (Y/N) is elevating her voice. Dick shushes the Titans up like a bunch of kids with the latest gossip and orders them to stay, as he gets out of the room towards her.

           “No! What the fuck is your problem, D.?”. Ouch. She had been using the same name with him in their latest sparring session. That fucking hurts. “No! Of course I’m not, how-! No, oh my God, if I have to repeat myself one more time, Daryl! I’m not cheating on you!”

           There’s a deafening silence, a small dance of victory in his own head. He knows he should be taking it more seriously (they might break up and he knows she loves him), but he can’t help but take this small point from Daryl’s ghostly presence whenever they talk and he gets brought up.

           “A friend, Daryl. He got me the taxi because I was tired, I had been at the gym, I told you! Fuck, you never listen to me. And after that I even had to take Byron out, even when you promised-“. She gets cut off, again. It’s annoying really, and she sighs, loudly and exasperatedly. “Listen, if you are just going to shout like a fucking caveman be my guest, but I’m not listening to anymore of this bullshit”.

           “(Y/N)!”. He shouts so loud from the phone he can even hear it. Then she hangs up and lets herself drop on the sofas. She looks tired; his smug and hopeful detective abilities tell him, shout him, it’s because this is not the first time you’ve had that conversation, at that level of heat or shouts. Has his name been brought up at any point? He feels really like a small kid, wishing for little and petty things like that towards her.

           “Eavesdropping is not very nice, Grayson. Care to come in or are you going to make me stand up?”. She asks, sarcastic as ever and inviting him to sit in the place next to her, patting the velvet slowly of the furniture. “Just come in. And don’t say anything. Just hug me.”

           He complies.

           …

           They have been flirting a bit more this time. (Y/N) is not sleeping there anymore, and from what Dick knows, they talk everyday for a couple of minutes, in an almost muttering tone, sometimes with too many silences and too many breaks on both behalves He wishes he could feel bad for her, she is suffering a bit after all, but every time they laugh together and she punches his arm, jokingly, he thinks he makes her forget about it.

           Until that happens.

           It’s a shooting in one of the top-rated working areas of San Francisco, where a lot of offices are conglomerated together. It is a panic. The fact that they have to deal with human weapons, rather than with some random and new alien race, makes it easier to control, but nonetheless it’s hard to see the blood, get in the midst of the terrorists. Especially when they get into the Chronicle’s tower where (Y/N)’s boyfriend is working at that same morning. None of them had truly made bonds with the city or its inhabitants, but she has been raised there. It’s her home. Without thinking, not too much, she gets midst of the flames, with all the smoke and possibility of collapse when Daryl tells her that he is still inside, trapped with some colleagues. There’s no time to do anything other than follow her; Wally helps, but he is the only one save (Y/N) and Dick to enter the building, save the civilians left inside and… Fuck, her boyfriend who immediately recognizes her. It was not too difficult, to be honest, especially when they know each other so well and with half a mask broken (bullets, fire, desperate attempts to get there as fast as possible).

           It’s a week after that and no one knows a thing about them. (Y/N) has completely disappeared from the tower, and save the occasional “I’m okay” texts he sends to Dick, just so that he can sleep, no one knows what’s going on… Until she appears in front of the doors of the Tower with him by her side. It sickens Dick to the pit of his stomach.

           …

           They are mostly staying there. He goes back for Byron, for work, for meeting some friends, but he waltzes around the Tower like he is one of them, when he isn’t. When he voices his concerns, he is met with protests and mumbles of him being too grumpy, too attached to the rules. He is not! But it is supposed to be top secrecy, and there they have a civilian who is… Too touchy for his own like. For anyone’s, really. Dick is not comfortable at his own home and that (Y/N) starts to notice. They still spar, talk until late, but it weird to have Daryl always gazing directly at him: he is sure, he knows. But he never says a thing, and thus it is… Okay. Until it stops being and the red flags appear. The incredible rage within Dick Grayson wakens.

           “You are just so controlling! All the time!”. She shouts. There’s no one else at that hour in the tower. It’s way too early, and his early-birds are already on patrol outside. “You don’t-can’t control me! Okay?! This was MY thing even before you knew about it! Nothing has ever happened to me, fuck, and if it were to happen-“

           “You are a woman, (Y/N). Biology-“

           “Oh my God. If you are going there Daryl Lane-“

           “But it is true! It’s just-!”

           “No, shut up or I’m going to punch you, I swear on everything!”

           Things are silent after that, but there’s an obvious tension on the room until he decides to leave, in a rush. Dick hides in the shadows, at a corner, hoping he won’t see in time, but he is too blinded by rage. He turns around, hoping maybe she will come to him. But he doesn’t know (Y/N) at all. She won’t come, specially not on a subject like that. And as he expects, he gets alone on the elevator before disappearing from their sight. He is tempted to go by her side, but she needs space. And more than anything, he doesn’t want to get accused of being a stalker.

           …

           Daryl stops coming. Fall passes, and winter comes in: thus the appropriate parties, alcohol, and inevitable encounters are to happen. Their final one is the night before Christmas Eve. They are celebrating, as usual, some white Christmas with a wave crime that has almost disappeared from California. They can actually take time for themselves, and (Y/N) and him are closer than ever; they talk until very late, then sometimes take it to one of their bedrooms, a midnight improvised snack, or sometimes marathons of stupid black and white movies (which she loves, adores. She is going to love her gift, he knows). Everyone knows they are crushing on each other hard; one would think that her boyfriend would be still an obstacle, but they are not talking anymore. She went to see him once, and that has been it since; after, she has just perfectly fitted into the Titans, like a second family. And of course, she has brought Byron with her… Who is the first that knows someone has entered the Tower.

           “B.?” She asks, confused as the dog runs from the table where they are all clinking their glasses. Dick doesn’t notice, hasn’t been paying attention to security these days, and that might have been his fault. It wasn’t supposed to happen. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

           The tone makes everyone turn around – and there he is, Daryl in the flesh, slightly drunk and freezing, it appears. He looks embarrassed, but confident at the same time. It’s strange. She gets up, in all her elegance, and grips Dick’s shoulder before going to him. She mutters, almost only to him: “Don’t come”. The rest will understand, but he knows she considers him the closest one. The only one who could actually come and intervene, if he wanted to. They are close friends, after all.

           “I’ll be back in a sec. Stay here”. He says, after a couple of seconds, getting up and coming onto them, the closest room where they have entered to talk in private. The door is slightly opened.

           What he sees shocks him. From his position, she is giving Dick her back, thus letting him see the tense and anxious lines of her shoulders and neck: almost scared, fearing the encounter. Her legs are in a battling position, even when he is not doing anything, just talking-

           “I’m sorry, you have to believe it. I didn’t mean to-I would never-you know I’m not the type. I didn’t mean to shut you. Slap you.”

           Out of everything, he did not expect that. If anything, he sounds honest, but his own blood is boiling and there’s nothing that can stop that for the moment. It is her business to deal with… But still, they had grown closer, she could have told him.

           “I don’t know what the fuck you are doing here, but you should go. You have no right over me, over anyone, woman or man, to put your hand on them like that. You are a piece of trash, Daryl.”

           “I know, I-“

           “No, you are scum, I-I don’t really know what you expected. That you would come here, sit with us for dinner and after-what? Go home, have sex and everything okay?”

           “(Y/N), I-“

           “No, fuck off! I have been hiding so much for your sake, so that you wouldn’t feel like less! I feared your reaction about my other life a lot, Daryl. I felt s bad because I know how much you hated lies, how you felt about it, and I loved you. I loved you so much, but you are just a piece of shit, trying to put me in your small traditional box! I am not going to do your dishes, clothes or work! I am not your sweet little girl for you to care and patronize-“

           “What, so you are his?! You are such a hypocrite, (Y/N).And the worst kind, a bitch. You are for his use alone or what? You never let yourself be pampered like that, treat like his own little princess-“

           “Who are you talking about?!”

           “Your friend Nightwing! Fuck you, you have been having these little chats, secret meetings… Have you fucked him? Have you sucked his cock while I was here, waiting for you on bed and cheering you on?”

           “You are piece of scum, Daryl! I have not been rejecting you these last months because of him. Yes, I do like him, but I would not go behind your back like you did! Fuck you!”

           “You are such a-“. His arm moves. His hand gets higher. He knows he has to act quick, and thus opens quickly the door, shoving her behind him, directly going against him to push him brutally into the wall against his back. It cracks behind them, pictures hanging on that same wall falling to the floor. The commotion makes everyone move, to their room, worried to what might be happening. “Fuck!”

           She gets in the middle, Dick already up and prepared to get into a fight at any moment, while the other is still confused on the ground. He can feel his own raged breaths: fury, instinct taking over rationality. He is destroyed on the floor but he still wants to annihilate him. How dare he, how would he-?

           “Dick, Dick. Hey, look at me. Richard!”. He looks at her, smaller in frame, tugging at his chest in the opposite direction of the room. She is trying to separate them. “Just go, please, don’t do anything else. Shut up, please, go and-“

           She seems to be close to crying, desperate in her voice and trying to get him out, as she is making him go through the door. Her eyes won’t even reach his, and he is now desperately trying to make contact, even as she shoves him out the door, with a whimper and finally closing the studio off. He is just as confused as the rest of them, but he won’t talk.

           …

           “Can I come in?”. Dick looks surprised. Did he not hear her? She had been looming around her own room for some hours now, everyone in their respective rooms after the night had been fucked up like that. No one felt like partying or drinking anymore. Still, his door had been opened, explicitly for her. He nods, and she finally comes in, closing the door behind them. “Okay, I’m going to talk, and I really don’t expect you to understand but… Okay.”

           >> Daryl and I had a very complicated relationships for some years. His family is fucked up and he had substance abuse problems in the past. I’m not excusing him, Dick, don’t roll your eyes. I just want you to understand where he comes from, why he is the way he is. He is not a bad person. No one is… But he thinks like that. He has to be the very best man, the most masculine out of everyone and always the best. It is his problem, but I tried to make it mine and help him. It did not work and it only put me in a difficult position, you know: always trying to be less so that he could be more. That’s partly why I never shared my secret identity with him. And why Cali’s own Vigilante was born. I needed something like this for myself. I was drowning, otherwise… And then you appeared.

           She laughs in pure incredulity; her hands gets buried in her own hair, as she brushes it off and goes to his bed, where he has been laying waiting for her. She sits down, her hand resting on his leg.

           “Okay, “you” as in “The Titans” appeared. That saved my ass because… Well, California is enormous. I could definitively NOT cover it all, so you all appearing was a miracle, honestly… But you appeared, Dick. You, as in Nightwing, as in Richard Grayson and the rawest “you” possible.” She looks at the door, almost embarrassingly, laughing a bit to herself. “I had such a big crush a couple of years ago I almost didn’t believe that you were right in front of me. Or that we got on so well, apparently… I kinda wished I didn’t have to go back home a lot of times, and… That’s because I felt something for you. And that was dangerous, because I had a boyfriend but-but things didn’t click with Daryl the way they dd with you, D. Really, truly. It is such a big cliché, but you made me feel seen, heard. You made me feel special, and I got hooked onto the feeling but-but I’m not like that. And I still had a boyfriend. Fuck, hell, I thought I was only lusting for you, but then-then months came by and it was still the same. And then we talked night after night, we cuddled under blankets, we took care of each other and… And things started going bad at home. He knew I was not in love with him anymore, and who could blame him? And while I didn’t want to act on my feelings with you, he did. Physically.”

           She sighs, like it’s taking a bit out of her. She frowns, looking at her own thigs as she gets both legs on the bed. Dick has the urge to embrace her.

           “The second time you offered me a bed here I wanted to take it in so badly, Dick. I swear to God I didn’t want to back there. No one had ever hit me, and-“. She chokes. She is… Strangely embarrassed, panicked. She won’t look at him, making herself small in the bed, vulnerable. “I didn’t know what to do. I still loved him; not like before, but wanted to stay true to him, be loyal, and he hit me. He said sorry after, he had been too drunk, but I knew he wanted to. And I just didn’t know how I could stay there after that, but still I-he promised things would get better, and I believed him, Dick. And then they didn’t.”

           She confesses she trusted things to get better because they normally did. She had been hit before, but she couldn’t tell anyone; she was alone, isolated from her family. And the Titans, they would mock her! Obviously not to her own face, but someone like her being slapped by her very normal and human boyfriend?! The laughing stock. She felt embarrassed by it, not being able to stop him, the red mark on her cheek, shameful and making her weak, less.

           He felt enraged. Not at her, of course not: at Daryl for making her feel powerless like that, stupid and less of the incredible woman she was because she was being hit. No one should feel embarrassed by it, much less be silenced for it. Dick embraces her, piecing the rest together all by himself. Things had started to go well, but the taxi had made him feel insecure, and thus they had exploited at each other not much later, resulting in a second slap in a short period of time which made her put distance between them. Intelligent. But then he had come and-

           “I’m so sorry. You shouldn’t have felt like that all by yourself… But I understand. It was your own struggle to deal with, and you didn’t want anyone else to know, but… There’s people here that love you, (Y/N). I love you, for starters.” He blurts it out naturally, taking both by surprise. He gets red, closing his eyes and trying to keep his cool. “I meant-What I mean is that I feel something strong, or rather strong for you. Since the start. Or something like that, fuck-I’m sorry, I didn’t want to come off so strong, but… But fuck yes, I-I do love you.”

           She climbs him. Slowly, almost torturing him in the silence of the room, sheets rustling as he moves his back up to straighten it. He is nervous, maybe as much as she is.

           They kiss. Lips trembling, fear still in he system, an intense desire to care for the other in his. It’s a long but caring kiss as he opens slightly his mouth and she enters his cavity, her tongue conquering space and his hands going for her hips, stabilizing them. He has been dreaming with that for at least three months.

           “Be my girlfriend.” And she can’t help but nod, as she kisses him up again. And again. And again, until they both are a mess of juvenile panting and squirming under the sheets.

           “Get properly into bed, I want to cuddle you.” She says, turning off the lights and getting closer to his face, climbing him up until her face can be buried in his neck. He kisses her forehead, heart beating fast but tranquil, at the same time. They have time, she loves him, and the only thing he wants now is to protect her between his arms.

           And she couldn’t feel any more secure, as she gets into bed and closes her eyes near his neck, protected and cuddled up by his strong arms on her waist.