#maybe once i finish it i’ll see some redeeming qualities. but i can’t really get over the thing.

[livvyofthelake]

struck fear into my soul. tee don’t do it… don’t do it you don’t have to do this…

[bytheangell]

Truth Be Told

( @shadowhunterbingo​ square: Two-Person Love Triangle) (Read on AO3)

Magnus can pinpoint nearly every moment he made a decision that went entirely against what he’s supposed to be doing right now. He was aware of each of them as they happened, but he did them anyway, bringing himself closer and closer to the point of no return he faces now.

What he’s supposed to be doing is getting close to Alec Lightwood. Close enough to get him to slip up and share any information about his father, Robert, that might help Magnus and his team build a case for a formal indictment against him. Magnus made some social media accounts under the alias ‘Bane’ with the tried-and-true plan of bonding with Alec over some shared interests, then gently prodding for more personal info once they were ‘friends’. He meant to stay detached, uninvested in Alec outside of his usefulness in potentially taking down Robert. It was meant to be easy because Magnus couldn’t imagine there were many redeeming qualities about a doubtlessly repellant brat raised by the Lightwoods.

What Magnus should have done was pull himself the moment he noticed he was starting to develop feelings. Or the moment he started casually reading up on archery because Alec mentioned it was a hobby of his. Or the moment he stopped pushing Alec to talk about his dad because Alec was uncomfortable with the topic. Or the moment he realized the only person he’d been messaging daily for the past few months, more than his own family, or his boss, or even his best friends, was Alec.

What Magnus actually did was allow himself to fall for Alexander entirely, growing fonder with every conversation they had, becoming more endeared with every new detail he learned about Alec, like his volunteer hours at a local youth club, or his basic knowledge of medicine from helping his sister study for med school and how he gets a constant stream of caffeine from his brother’s coffee truck.

And what Magnus does now is take the empty seat next to Alec where he sits at the bar while his friends dance to some mediocre DJ. He says hi, and makes small talk, and flirts like he has no idea who Alec is - because as far as Alec knows this is the first time they’ve ever spoken.

“Sorry,” Alec says, making a face at the sip of Magnus’ whiskey he tries. “I’m just not a big drinker.”

There goes his plan of getting Alec drunk enough to spill the beans on his dad’s private dealings. Magnus should be disappointed but isn’t surprised to find that he’s not, not really. He can be honest enough with himself to admit the ‘plan’ was just an excuse to risk meeting Alec face-to-face: to hear the voice he only imagined for so many months and appreciate the occasional nervous stutters and the flush that creeps high on Alec’s cheekbones when Magnus compliments him.

Magnus grins. “Well, lucky for you I am, which means I know there’s something out there for everyone. We just need to find yours.”

The two of them have an immediate spark. It’s undeniable, and the conversation flows so easily that Magnus loses track of time entirely until Alec’s friends come back to see if he wants to leave, and he tells them to go without him. The conversation is wonderful but it’s the moments that Alec smiles, the ones where he laughs freely and lets go almost in spite of himself, that Magnus loves the most.

Everything seems to be going well until Magnus starts to notice Alec talking less and less as the night goes on. Finally, Alec sighs, and Magnus allows his current story to trail off at the sight of the frown on Alec’s face.

“Is everything alright?”

“I’m sorry. I can’t… I shouldn’t be doing this. It isn’t fair to you,” Alec says suddenly.

Magnus raises an eyebrow at that. “What isn’t?”

Alec hesitates. “It’s going to sound stupid, but… there’s this guy I like. Someone I met online.”

Oh. Magnus shouldn’t feel the sinking, crushing disappointment he does at that moment. After all, this isn’t meant to be a real date. He shouldn’t even have the feelings he does for Alec. This should be good, it should mean he can just get whatever information he can on Robert and leave with no guilt. Because of course, Magnus isn’t the only person Alec’s friends with online. Of course, Alec’s meeting and flirting with other people.

“That doesn’t sound stupid. People meet online all the time,” Magnus says, trying to sound nonchalant. He doesn’t remember Alec ever mentioning anyone, but maybe they weren’t as close as Magnus let himself hope.

“Yeah, but you’re… well, I mean, look at you. You’re gorgeous, and you’re here, and I should want to give that a chance. I’ve never even met Bane in person, and he probably doesn’t even like me back - we aren’t actually dating or anything, but-”

Oh. Magnus can practically feel the swoop in his chest at the realization that Alec can’t bring himself to get invested in him because… well, because he’s already invested in Magnus. He just doesn’t know it.

Magnus’ disappointment shifts suddenly to elation, and then just as quickly to guilt. He barely hears any of Alec’s continued rambling explanation, the words drowned out by his thoughts which now swirl with a panicked rush of possible responses to this unexpected turn of events. He should leave. He should take the easy out and leave. He should walk away before he says or does anything he’ll regret later. Hell, he should go home and delete the accounts and pretend that none of this ever happened.

There are a million and one things he should do… but none of them are the one thing he wants to do.

And he hasn’t done anything he should’ve since this all started, so why start now?

“-anyway, I’m sorry. But I’m sure you don’t deserve to try and date someone who’ll spend half their time hung up on someone else,” Alec finishes.

There’s only one thing he can do that leaves him any chance of ever seeing Alec again - and he very much wants to see Alec again.

The decision Magnus makes next is impulsive. Magnus pulls out his phone, brings up his Bane account, and looks over at Alec with what he hopes is a look of genuine remorse. “No, I’m sorry. And I’d really, really like it if you gave me a chance to explain, but I understand if you don’t want to.”

Magnus watches the confusion on Alec’s face shift to recognition, then surprise, then a flash of anger as tense hands push his phone back across the bar top to him, teeth clenched as he speaks.

“Glad you understand,” Alec says, his voice suddenly cold - and god does it hurt Magnus to hear that shift in tone, however deserved it is. Magnus can only sit and watch as Alec pushes his stool back to leave, then pauses and turns back to Magnus, the anger back in place. “No, you know what? I do want to know. I want to know what explanation you could possibly have for not telling me who you are when you knew... “ Alec’s words trail off as he takes a deep breath to collect himself, but doesn’t continue talking as he sits back down to wait for an explanation.

“I want to start off by saying that everything I ever said to you, I meant. All our conversations, everything I told you - from how terrible I am at playing string instruments to my fear of drowning - none of that was an act. But... when I started talking to you, it was because I was hoping to get information on your father.”

“My father,” Alec huffs out a laugh. “Of course. I should’ve known someone like you would never actually want to talk to me-”

“But that’s just it - I did! I do. I realized ages ago I wasn’t going to get anything out of you about Robert, but I didn’t care. I just liked talking to you, and getting to know you, and… you. I like you, Alexander.”

“Forgive me if I’m finding it difficult to take anything you say at face value right now,” Alec mutters.

“That’s fair,” Magnus says, sighing. Maybe he should let things sit for a day or two, and try messaging Alec to explain once the anger settles a bit. That’s if Alec doesn’t block him the first chance he gets. Either way, it’s obvious nothing he says now is going to matter. “I should leave.”

Magnus doesn’t wait for a response before he’s already standing up to go, his back turned to Alec when Alec speaks again.

“What information did you want about my dad?”

Magnus shakes his head, still not turning back around. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It does,” Alec insists. “Because if you haven’t figured it out yet, he and I don’t exactly see eye-to-eye on a lot of things. Or anything at all.”

Magnus winces. “Yeah, I gathered as much.”

Alec frowns. “You did, didn’t you?” Alec’s entire face scrunches up in concentration as he thinks back on something. “I told you I didn’t like talking about him weeks ago and you dropped it, and never brought him up again. Why would you do that?” Some of the harshness is gone from Alec’s tone again.

“Because I realized talking about your dad upset you, and I didn’t want to do that,” Magnus explains. Against his own better judgment Magnus latches on to the small bit of hope he feels from the subtle shift in mood.

“Because you like me,” Alec repeats, not quite a question, but the disbelief behind his words prompts Magnus to answer all the same.

“Yes,” he says, the single word pleading, willing Alec to believe him.

There’s a long stretch of silence and it takes all of Magnus’ self-control to not break it. Instead, he hovers where he still stands next to his chair.

“What if I help you?” Alec finally says. “What if I tell you whatever you need to know about my dad?”

Magnus sits back down abruptly, mostly out of shock. “What?”

“Robert isn’t a good person. He doesn’t tell me a lot, but I hear things. I’ve seen some stuff snooping around places I shouldn’t have. I’ll help, as much as I can,” Alec continues.

Magnus should be thrilled. It’s everything he could’ve hoped for when he started, even if it isn’t how he imagined getting it. But the idea of the information coming at the cost of the friendship and connection he’s made with Alec over the past few months leaves an empty feeling in the pit of his stomach.

“But I need something from you in return,” Alec adds, causing Magnus’ gaze to turn up from where he’d been looking down at his hands to avoid looking into Alec’s eyes.

“What’s that?” Magnus asks, his curiosity piqued.

“There’s nothing between us until after I tell you what you want to know. Once you have what you need on Robert… if you’re lying and this is all just a ploy to get information from me, then you have to promise to leave without a word: delete your online accounts, and I never want to hear from you again.”

“And if I’m not lying?”

Alec takes a deep breath. “Then you promise to take me on a proper first date and we start over, with all the cards on the table.”

Magnus smiles. “That,” he agrees easily. “Is a promise I can absolutely make, darling.”

[darkdevasofdestruction]

Primum Non Nocere ~ Gregory House x Katrina Black

This may or may not be a personal fic I make for myself, that everyone is welcome to read in case they miss House or sth, so yeah, enjoy the clown fiesta.

There are many words that can describe Doctor Gregory House, all of them ranging from “Brilliant Doctor” to “The Biggest Asshole”...However, there is one person who ever called him “Sweet”, and each time, she got called insane.

Even Stacy, who dated him for so long, looked at her as if she suddenly became a chimera or something, which speaks volumes for his character as a whole.

It’s been 15 years since Katrina moved to America, and 15 years since she begged Lisa Cuddy to allow her to practice Medicine and learn directly from the hospital itself, even though she barely finished highschool and was beginning Medicine University.

Lisa had no reason to accept her, but she was much too sweet and convincing, doing everything asked, from cleaning, to nursing, helping her with management stuff, and then, as years passed, she started clinic duty and steadily, but fast-paced, she achieved her dream of becoming a successful cardiologist, going as far as becoming the new head of the department, since the old one retired.

Just as expected, she became friends with Lisa, James and Greg very easily, and each of them treated her in their own way - As her mother, as her confidant...And as her Mentor, of sorts - As Gregory House was the harshest and biggest jerk in the world, but not even the coldest man alive could resist her weirdly innocent charm.

She was the one to remember the gruff man’s every birthday and give him gifts she made herself - Nothing big, but always meaningful, like a winter scarf, or cute little decorations, engraved medical things and so one - And of course, on every Christmas, apart from gifts, she would bring him marshmallow hot chocolate and other festive decorations for his office, so he won’t feel lonely or bad.

Sometimes he didn’t even realise it, but every time he needed a proper diagnostic opinion, or his interns screwed up, he’d page her, not exactly caring if she was busy with clinic work or with an important surgery, and he’d make fun of her for rushing for “No reason”.

Life is definitely difficult for a shy, young foreigner, all alone in the world, but somehow, with the help of this few people, she managed to find something that she lacked her whole childhood - A true “Family” and a place to call “Home”.

But for Gregory House, this woman, Katrina Black, has always been an enigma he couldn’t deduct - The greatest mystery that crossed his path - He wanted to know her, to understand her, to learn about her and her pain and maybe, for once, he won’t feel as miserable.

The past 5 years especially, after Stacy left him and he ultimately had to live in pain, addicted to pain killers, and while he got more and more bitter, he also began to appreciate, at least in his heart, the unconditional kindness and attention he receives from her

And so, here we are, 15 years after the moment that changed everything in their lives...

“It’s not inflammatory process. It’s not a clot, because Chase’s angio says so. And it’s not cancer, because her tush is perfect. Anybody else got an Aunt Elyssa with weird stuff?” House limped into his office, looking at the three subordinates that were sitting around aimlessly. “...Maybe it’s worth looking into-” Cameron began, but was quickly cut off by the elder one, who looked at the angio once again. “I though you said Carly’s angio was clean.” Gregory blinked, putting both angiograms on the board for a better peripheral view. “It WAS clean.” the Aussie insisted again. “You guys see the problem here?” House asked in his usual over the top way. “There’s no indication of any abnormalities, no lesions, no spurs, no mastis-” Foreman got up to get a better look at the pictures better. “Well, if you guys don’t know, how about I call for the help of our lovely foreigner? I bet she’s gonna be angry for getting her out of whatever surgery she has, but...It’s in the name of science, after all!” he gave a mocking smirk at the trio as he hit CodeRed on the pager.

As expected, it didn’t take long for the girl to arrive, despite being in full surgical outfit, blood still on her gloves and her scrub cover, panting from having to run all the way there.

“What happened?! Are you okay?!” she tried to speak, despite barely being able to catch her breath. “Nothing really. Nothing that would result in the immediate death of a patient, clearly, and as you can see, I’m perfectly fine as well. Why ever would you hurry up like that out of a surgery?” Gregory fooled around, watching the crestfallen expression on her face, as she took off her gloves and scrub covers, revealing the cute and childish green scrub that had foxes on the top. It was her signature style, really - Always wearing the cutest, most childish scrubs, with various animals or flowers, and she was the only one who did that, despite her age, and didn’t care about anyone’s opinions. In fact, others kinda found it pretty nice too, almost giving off a more light and hopeful approach to a hospital. “So...Let me get this straight...I was in the middle of an open heart surgery...And you paged me while I was stitching it back together...With a code red, nonetheless...And I put my subordinate to cover for me, thinking that something happened to you or whatever patient you have...And instead, I find you here with no problem, loitering around with the three stoogies - No offense -...Having a party. Woaw, Greg, be careful, you are overshadowing yourself with every passing day.” Katrina groaned, throwing in the bin the discardable surgery objects and  hopped on his desk, crossing her legs together nonchalantly. “Awwww, you love me, don’t you?” he retorted in a fake sweet tone, making the girl shake her head and chuckle. “Yeah, of course, who doesn’t?” she could barely keep herself from grinning at his silly self. “So what’s the real problem? What did they do?” “We are trying to see what’s wrong with Carly’s angiogram, and I figured perhaps the gorgeous eyes of an exotic, successful, intelligent woman, would be able to see the problem of another successful and intelligent woman.” he tried to speak with more honey than he ever did, just for the laughs. “The girl kissed by fire should dye her hair again. Also...It came to my understanding that most people have...A left and a right leg, right? Why does the angio have two left feet?” she asked, taking her hair out of the ponytail and messing it around. “Et voila! Without even knowing the patient’s problems properly, you saw the wrong when these guys didn’t. See, I told you the foreigner would get it faster than you.” House limped back to pat her head, looking at the three with judgement. “So...Who screwed up something so basic? I wouldn’t have expected someone that works under you to do such a stupid mistake -... No, wait, it was Chase, wasn’t it?” Kat smirked, looking at the Aussie with a playful glint in her eyes. “Wh-What?! Why did you think it was me?!” Chase looked at her with revolt. “Are you trying to tell me it WASN’T you?” she pressed on, watching him blink and get back in his chair. “How did you know?” Greg challenged her, only to see her shrug. “He seems like the only one to screw up something like this because he was trying to charm the pants off some nurse.” she spoke as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “You are absolutely correct! Oh, and, stop messing with your hair, you’re leaving strands everywhere.” he grabbed her wrists, and just for a split second, his beautiful icy blue eyes peered into her fawn-like green ones. “Well...Every fire has cinders and ambers, doesn’t it. Now that you basically dragged me out of the surgery room, you have to keep me around for the case. I’m sure you wouldn’t mind me purrrowling around, would you?” she joked around, just as Chase got up, staring at the angios he screwed up in complete disbelief. “Yeah. Sure. You do that. At least I’ll have someone competent around.” he nodded his head, a bit awkwardly. “That’s impossible! It can’t be - “ Chase tried to defend himself, despite having no excuse. “Or maybe it was Jenny. How come some resident signed this radiology report? Were you even in the room?” House reprimanded the blond doctor. “I’ll redo her angio- “ Chase tried to defend himself, but was quickly shut down by his superior. “You’ll do nothing!” an angry House was a scary House, which made the room atmosphere tense as hell. “Eric, go do the angiogram, please.” Kat muttered, simplifying the problem. “...I can’t believe I did that.” Chase turned around to look at his fuck up, making the red haired girl sigh. “That’s what happens when you think with the wrong head at the wrong time.” with that, she flapped her hand to dismiss both of them, dragging House to sit down, worrying about his leg. “I am surrounded by idiots.” he dragged a hand down his face in anger. “Yeah, I know what you mean...But they are not stupid, in the long run. Just...Distracted sometimes...At the wrong times, sure, but...They have redeeming qualities too.” she tried to defend them a bit, while also calm him down, knowing very well that nobody can think straight while angry. “Yeah, I know. But neither you, nor I, have ever been distracted by trivial things like this. Speaks volumes about someone’s priorities.” he retorted just as tauntingly as before. “Well...He’s still young...And he knows he’s attractive for most people...I don’t know. I can’t really defend him for this one.” she looked down, sighing. “Then don’t. It’s not your job to defend everyone or try to make me feel better. Look at you. You’re young, beautiful and smart, but not once did I see you being distracted by some boy. Chase has no excuse.” he cut her off, making her smile in understanding, nodding blankly. “Yeah...But you’re the only one who sees me that way. You...And James and Lisa...You’re the only ones that I trust to tell me the truth and be genuine with me...And you’re the only ones who talk to me or hang around me without wanting something out of me. Sometimes things are more complicated than you see at the surface.” her voice became softer, almost melancholic, something that was completely out of character for her, or at least, that’s what he thought.

House was about to open his mouth and interrogate her, in his own weird way, only for his office room to get opened and have Vogler and Cuddy walk right through. With an ever so quiet curse from the girl, she bit her lip and raised her head, trying not to look worried or intimidated.

“What a pleasant coincidence, finding both of you here. I see neither of you conformed to the rules yet. Are you trying to have an anarchy together? Not wearing proper clothing?” Vogler look down at the two of them, which made House blink in confusion at the girl sitting on his desk. “Well, I know I don’t wear a coat ‘cause it’s itchy and tacky...But as far as I’m aware, if my eyes haven’t gone wild from the LSD, Katrina’s wearing a medical scrub.” the man started playing with his cane, only to see the girl shoot him a warning look, mouthing for him to shut up. “Animal scrubs are unprofessional. Nobody in the hospital wears them, and there is no benefit to them.” the businessman refuted with ease. “The benefit is that I make them myself, they are comfy, and people find them nice to look at. My patients feel calmer and more reassured seeing cute things. It makes them see past their health issues, even by a few seconds. And children and teenagers especially love it.” the girl explained herself calmly, before biting her lip and speaking a bit lower. “I’d recommend you wear a cute scrub too, I’m sure they are more comfy than your business suits. Maybe you’ll lighten up and realise we are in a hospital and we work with people, not with documents and money.”  “Haha, you’re pretty funny. Now I see why the two of you are always together. You have a knack for breaking the rules. Or, better said, you completely disregard the rules as if they don’t exist at all for you.” Vogler’s voice seemed to get darker and more threatening. “It’s just a coat and a scrub. House works from his office, and he wears suits, I don’t see how that’s a problem, the same as my scrubs, there’s no rule anywhere saying I am strictly forbidden from wearing cute tops. Do you really feel your authority so undermined by two people in this huge hospital wearing different things, despite not getting in the way of their pristine perfect work? Or perhaps you feel some kind of weird...Inferiority complex that you must hide and keep in check by walking all over everyone as if we are doormats?” Katrina spoke without even looking at anyone, only staring ahead, coincidently, at the messed up angiograms, and for a few seconds, she could almost feel her own legs getting screwed up from the malicious vibe emanating from the businessman. “Katrina...” Lisa brought her out from her trance, sharing a look of worry together, knowing very well they’re screwed either way. “It’s not about what rules are out there or not. It’s about the rules that I make, and making sure you are team players. If you are not, then...I believe we won’t be able to cooperate for much longer. Especially if Dr. Cuddy isn’t able to keep you in control.” Vogler threatened, before turning away and leaving, while Lisa gave her a pitiful look, following behind him. “...Fantastic day, isn’t it?” Katrina put her hands on her face, sighing in frustration. “Do you really make your own scrubs?” Greg asked, making her turn her head to look at him, before nodding. “Yeah. Want one? I can make you a pink one with lots of flowers and smiley faces.” she joked half-heartedly, which made him realise the annoying businessman was affecting her more than him. “Don’t be ridiculous.” he shook his head, getting up, patting her head. “What else do I have left after what just happened.” she stretched, cracking her fingers and spine, as she hopped off the desk, just as her pager started ringing. “Good luck with your patient, Greg. I have to go. If anything happens, page me...But no code red during surgery this time, please.” she gave him a tender smile, leaving the room, making him look after her.

What was it about her today that made her seem off? It has to be only Vogler, right? What else could it be.  The patient, however, has many many symptoms, and no actual disease yet. Fascinating!

As time passed and he got to treat his patient, and even lied to the transplant committee so Carly would get a new heart, and nobody, except for Wilson and Black, who were there, knew about that felony he committed.

On the other hand, during this time, Katrina has been working day and night with barely any rest, other than the tons of coffee she had to down to keep herself awake. There was something very uplifting about overworking, and no, not only your heart rate.

“Hey, Kat.” Wilson raised his hand up to salute his friend, which made her stop in front of him, albeit a bit spazzic like a meerkat, but nothing too out of the ordinary. “Hey, James, how are you?” she smiled at him, walking slowly together to whatever place he was heading to. “Pretty good. Wanted to grab lunch, how about you?” he asked politely, putting his hands in his coat pockets. “It’s lunch already? How time flies...I forgot to eat again. Too bad.” she chuckled sheepishly, grinning at him. “Anyway, have a great meal, I have a surgery to prep for.”  “You should still eat something, you can’t live on coffee alone.” James muttered with concern. “Thank you for your concern, James, I appreciate it. I have to hurry now, eat for me too.” she chuckled, stopping in her tracks, waving him goodbye. “Wait, hold up, I wanted to ask you something.” he stepped closer to her, bending a bit so he could speak without anyone lese hearing. “Do you know what House lied about? At the committee? I know he lied, but I don’t know what about.” he asked, making the girl sigh and shake her head. “No, sorry, I don’t know. If you want, I can ask him when I’m done with the surgery.” she suggested, seemingly interested herself. “If he tells you, that would be great. He seemed to stop himself from telling me because I am a member of both the board and the transplant committee...Which you are as well. Good luck.” he points out, both curious and frustrated with his friend. “Well that’s interesting...Okay, you’ve got me hooked, I’ll see what I can do and I’ll tell you as soon as I find out. Laters.” Kat winked at him, rushing to do the surgery.

However, she didn’t have to do much work, for when she was almost done with the surgery, House himself made his way into the room, examining her working, before speaking.

“How would you fancy dinner tonight?” he asked, which made her look at him, raising her eyebrow in confusion. “Did you talk to James by chance?” she questioned right back, doing the finishing touches. “Yeah, how’d you know?” he asked jokingly. “Oh, you know...Just the usual thing of me forgetting to take care of myself. So, where do we go?” she asked, finishing the sewing and turning around to exit the room. “My home. We get take out, fall asleep since it’s already past midnight...I came with the motorcycle, I even brought your cat helmet, come on, I’m hungry, don’t question so much.” he put his arm around her shoulder, bringing her to the parking spot. “No room to complain much, is there? Is it really past midnight? I feel like I just talked with James a little ago...” she muttered, taking the helmet and putting it on. “Time flies fast when you’re having fun, they say.” House pointed out, starting the engine.

For the rest of the night - Or early morning rather - They finished eating and were relaxing by the piano, playing “My Way” by Frank Sinatra and other fun, classical, beautiful songs, humming the lyrics and reveling in the fact that there were no cases for a while, and no worries, at least for what Vogler is worth.

“Say, mind if I ask you something?” Kat asked, turning her head to look at him. “Yes, a hooker came by just yesterday, how did you know?” he gasped dramatically, looking right back at her. “Oh, just a lucky guess. However, my question was going to point more towards the patient you just had, who needed a heart transplant. I and James were curious about your little white lie.” she chuckled at his jokes, which made him blink at her and frown. “Sorry, doctor-patient confidentiality makes me unable to say anything. As well as ethics. Those are very important rules that everyone must follow for a better place to live in, don’t you think?” she never really understood why, but those back and forth playful banters always made her laugh. “Oh yes, of course...Ethics...How could I possible forget about Ethics? Perhaps you have a dictionary so I can look it up once in a while. And now, for the real reason...I can assume it was something psychological? Some mental illness that nobody was supposed to know about?” she smirked right back at him, only for him to look at her for a brief few seconds and nod abruptly. “Bulimia and self-harm.” Greg answered, which made the girl smile sadly. “Figured it would be something like this...Many women like her have self-issues and they get desperate and lonely to the point where they find the only relief from stress and self-hatred in overworking and terrible coping mechanisms. Buuuut she proved to you she wanted to live, and you fought for her and saved her. That’s amazing. You...You are amazing, you know that, don’t you?” she praised him, a soft smile on her face of something that may or may not resemble admiration. “Where are you getting at with that? It’s almost like you’re praising her...For something.” his voice lowered a bit, almost as if he was interrogating her. “Praise is a big word...Although she is a great woman, without a doubt. I was actually praising you, above all else...And...I was just wondering...Would you...Would you do the same for me? Should I have been in the same position as she was.” she asked, as a matter of fact, which made the other doctor raise his eyebrow at her. “Why would you be asking something like that?” it was clear that by now, the atmosphere got a little bit tense, until she started randomly playing “Carol of the Bells”, such a beautiful, uplifting Christmas song, yet House could almost smell the nostalgic undertones it had. “You are being very weird, Katrina.” “Oh, come on, lighten up, it was only to satisfy my scientific curiosities. Christmas is coming, I haven’t slept in two days, I’ve been drinking so much coffee that I think I’ve transcended into another universe altogether...And everyone is weird in their own way, you can’t tell me otherwise. Now come on, answer me, don’t be such a killjoy.” she grinned, nudging him playfully with her shoulder as she got closer to him, trying to get him to stop thinking it was some greater problem. “...No.” he answered solemnly, which made the girl blink and tilt her head to the side like a confused puppy. “No...You won’t do the same for me, or No...You won’t answer?” Kat asked softly, hoping to get a straight answer out of him, but that’s never the case with House. “Figure that out when you go to sleep tonight. Good night, Kat.” Greg said, getting up from the piano and making his way to his dormitory, leaving the girl alone.

Sighing, she continued to play “Summertime” from Gershwin to calm herself down, before getting up herself and walking all the way to her home, albeit not a long walk, yet still relaxing thanks to the cold outside that relaxed her.

The next day, Katrina walked in around the clinic with her big Triple Espresso Caramel Latte cup, going around to do her clinic duty, only to get paged by House once again, most likely to help with another diagnostic, or point out some obvious idiocy one of his subordinates has done.

On the way there, she spotted the big bad wolf, so she hid behind numerous people and quickly ran up the emergency stairs to escape her fate, until she got to the diagnostician’s office, catching her breath.

“Why did you run? There was no code red this time.” he asked, wagging his cane around. “Yeah, well, code V from Vendetta spotted me, so I had to pretend I didn’t see him. The emergency stairs are a blessing, sometimes.” she chuckled, leaning, on the glass wall, taking big sips from her coffee. “Have you thought about what I said last night?” he asked, and by then, the eyes of the onlookers seemed to go back and forth between those two. “I would have...But as you can see, I didn’t exactly sleep last night. Again.” she gave him a sarcastic, exaggerated grin. “Yeah, I can see that. You look dreadful. Do you make it your personal mission to go in the Record book for the idiot who refused to sleep the longest?” he limped in front of her, making her sigh and roll her eyes. “It wasn’t for lack of trying, okay? I go to bed, it takes hours to fall asleep, and when I do, I have nightmares and sleep paralysis, I wake up startled and restless, and there is that, I can’t fall asleep back again because of overwhelming anxiety. Are you happy with my answer?” she looked up at him with an almost annoyed look in her exhausted eyes. “...Nope.” House dragged his answer a bit, as if he was thinking over some rationalisation of her behaviour. “Are you taking pills?” he asked again, popping a Vicodin pill. “Uh...Should I?” she muttered, blinking questioningly at him. “Maybe. If you don’t already. I’m not entirely sure if you are or not, unless you tell me.” he pointed out as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Or maybe I need a long vacation in the Maldives. Or to go back home in Europe. Who knows, maybe sleeping in the Sun, on a beach chair, hearing the ocean waves would prove to be a great way to fall asleep and actually...You know...Sleep!” she shrugged and turned around to leave, but he hooked the semi-circle part of his cane around her neck, bringing her back, making her yelp in shock. “Are you sure you’re alright? You’ve been acting off recently.” he limped in front of her, blocking the exit. “Ah, yes, of course. An anomaly in an otherwise boring human who is bound by routines. How could I forget how much you love solving these anomalies? But, you see, I’m not your patient, so I have to ask you to refrain from trying to diagnose me, and return to whatever your guy has.” she tried to push him away, but he wouldn’t budge, which only made her sigh in aggravation. “I think...You are hiding something.” House pushed her with his cane just enough to look at her better.  “Yeah, you’ve got me. Something completely unexpected...Like...Vogler giving me a hard time and threatening to fire me, despite being the head of the Cardiology department...And Christmas is approaching and I’m as lonely as always...Oh, and, how could I forget, my family wants to visit. My family. Who hasn’t contacted me in like 15 years. Suddenly wants to visit me. I’m SURE they want to have a very nice, lovely chat with me. Now that you know how miserable my days have been lately, can I go back to being miserable in my own department, where I can actually do something productive with my time?” it wasn’t often when she got so worked up, but it was clear she was stressed out and needed some way to vent or relax. “Don’t you want to know the answer to your question?” he looked down for a few seconds, before looking in her eyes, noticing how her eyes were puffy and droopy, and her bottom lip was quivering lightly. “...I don’t know.” she muttered, moving past him and going back to the clinic to do her job as she’s supposed to.

Of course, Vogle continued to be a problem for everyone, Christmas passed and she was just as lonely as every other year, so she drunk herself to sleep while listening to old school songs from her native country, because no matter how silly they were, they still made her feel happy and nostalgic.

Things continued to go array for everyone in the hospital, so bad and so hard that the evil businessman called for a board meeting to fire House, which caused a shit ton of problems for everyone, especially Kat, Wilson and Cuddy...But the only ones who refused were the first two, which escalated to another meeting right then to fire them...On her own birthday, barely a week and a half after Christmas.

“Doctor Wilson, Doctor Black. I was hoping you were gonna miss this one.” Vogler said as soon as the two entered the office room and sat on their chairs next to each other. “A man is the sum of his actions. Here are a few of Dr. House’s. He violated a D.N.R. and was charged with assault. He brought a termite into the O.R. and spat on a surgeon. He accepted a Corvette from a patient who was a known member of the New Jersey Mafia.” the businessman began, only to get stopped by one of the surgeons. “Ed, look-” he tried to reason, but was harshly cut off. “Edward.” Vogler looked sharply at him. “Edward. You look at anyone’s career, you can find things that are-” the surgeon began to speak again, only to get quickly shut down. “These are the last 3 months! He’s personally had more complaints filed against him than any department in this hospital.” Vogler continued, and James tried to reason this time. “Okay. He’s screwed-up. He’s miserable. And he should probably re-read the ethics code, but it works for him. He’s saved hundreds of lives.” Wilson explained, but it was clear Vogler was on a war path. “He is a drug addict who flaunts his addiction and refuses to get treatment! He is a disgrace and an embarrassment to this hospital.” this statement made the red haired girl groan in annoyance and let herself fall back on the chair. “No, he’s not a drug addict, that’s what YOU want to see. How would you feel if your leg was in excruciating pain because of a surgery choice you had NO choice over, and yet, you still had to work, save lives, and think properly? House MAY look like he’s some kind of insane jerk, but he is known all over America for being THE best diagnostician and was able to save people that otherwise, in the hand of ordinary doctors, would have died. Oh, and, those complaints have always been revoked or solved once the patient...You know...LIVED! You just want him fired ‘cause he’s not being your obedient lap dog. If you are so brave to speak ill of a person when he’s not around, why don’t you also have the guts to speak the truth?” she leaned forward to glare at her enemy, as Wilson put his hand over hers, trying to calm her down. “Says the one who’s always by his side, helping him indulge in his nefarious medical fantasies. Let’s keep this simple. Either he goes, or I go.” Vogler spoke, making Katrina rest her chin on her hand, watching him closely. “You shouldn’t personalise this.” Lisa tried to reason, but this guy was over the limits. “And by I, I mean my hundred million dollars. How’s that for personalising?” he started at poor Lisa, who was in a huge dilemma. “Who knew adults could be so petty? You give us money for a reason, and then you threaten to take it away because one doctor, the only one who cares about his patients more than anything, does his job as he is supposed to. Very mature.” Kat sneered at him, rolling her eyes at him. “Gregory House is a symbol of everything wrong with the health care industry. Waste. Insubordination. Doctors preening like they’re kind, and the hospital is their own private fiefdom. Health care is a business, I’m gonna run it like one. I hereby move to revoke the tenure of Dr. Gregory House and terminate his employment at this hospital, effective immediately.��� Vogler declared, which made the red head jump up from her seat and slam her hand on the desk. “Since when can you decide for everyone? Are you some sort of God or what? You are WRONG Ed. First of all, Gregory House is the ONLY doctor in this hospital who is capable of being perfectly objective and save ALL his patients, even from the weirdest, most unexpected diseases! Secondly, yeah, we ARE Gods, in a way! We actively get ourselves in the line to save hundreds of lives, we...We HOLD their fates in OUR hands! He is not the problem, and Health Care is NOT supposed to be a business! This is not a business corporate, this is a HOSPITAL! A place where we, DOCTORS, save lives! You wouldn’t get it, you’re not a doctor! You didn’t have to see people in agony, begging to be killed, nor did you have people crying in happiness for being saved! You know absolutely NOTHING of medicine! You have NO right to fire Gregory House, just like you have NO right to tell us, who spent over 10 years of our youth studying constantly, and more than 10 years having this healthcare as our everyday life style, that we should do this for money, and not for the people!” the room went silent from the shock of her outburst, since nobody, in 15 years, saw her so agitated, and yet, she was right...Against the wrong man. “Fascinating and touching speech, I must say. Now I know what I have to deal with. Now then, let’s resume to our votes. All in favour of firing Dr. Gregory House?” Vogler asked, cheekily raising his own hand, which was slowly followed by everyone, except for Katrina and James, who looked at each other with worry, letting their arms fall back from the table and holding hands for comfort. “Dr. Wilson? Dr. Black?” Vogler tried to nudge to give in, but it was for naught. “Opposed.” both of them answered in unison, knowing that either way, they’re screwed. “The...Motion is defeated.” the business man sighed, letting silence hang in for a few seconds, before speaking again, in a chirper voice. “Dr. Wilson, Dr. Black, would you mind leaving the room, please?” “Excuse me?” James asked, frowning in confusion at his words. “We’re going to take another vote.” Vogler explained, as if it was nothing. “We are board members. We have to be here when you vote. You can’t void our votes by making us stand in the hallway. And, as far as I’m aware, you need notice and at least one business day before you can reconsider any matter.” James continued, knowing very well that he can’t prolong the agony. “We’re voting on a different matter, which you are conflicted out of.” Vogler stood up, looking solemn over everyone. “How can we be conflicted out of? What is that even supposed to mean?” Katrina asked, looking at Lisa, who seemed to have an apologetic look on her face. “This vote is whether to dismiss Dr. James Wilson and Katrina Black.” everyone looked down hearing that...Katrina and James were a completely different matter, compared to House... “Oh, great, yes, fire everyone who is speaking the truth and doesn’t go by your stupid business idea. Newsflash, not everybody is a greedy fuckass like you are. Some of us are here because that’s why we wasted our life for! Saving! LIVES! If you guys, after so many years of working together, think that I and Wilson should leave, then fine, sure, vote yes. But if you’re doing it because of this guy...Then congratulations, welcome to communism. Trust me, I’d know, I’m Romanian.” looking with disgust at that guy, she grabbed her friend and left the office without another word, and when they got far enough, she slammed her back on a wall, pulling at her hair. “At least I know why House likes you. You were right. You have always been an admirable doctor. I hope one day he will appreciate you as he should. Its not like he has many people who actually tolerate him...” James put his hands on her shoulders, trying to calm her out of having an anxiety attack, until Vogler came by, looking as menacing and narcissistic as usual.

He threatened both of them, saying they have the option of leaving the hospital, otherwise he will destroy them...Which means that there was at least one person who voted to keep them there.

There was no point in trying to comfort each other, so instead, they went to their own offices, packing up everything they owned.  However, instead of packing, Katrina stood criss-crossed on her desk, looking at her prized possessions on the shelves, including her awards, diplomas, random little plants and flowers, cute decorations...And a fox that had a heart in its mouth, that she received as a gift from House, Wilson and Cuddy when she became the head of the Cardiology department.

She didn’t even realise how tears were falling down her face, she almost felt numb to it all, but in reality, her heart hurt like hell and she couldn’t imagine how life would continue to go on from now on.

The sound of the door softly opening was blocked away by her personal phone ringing, and with a lethargic move, she raised her phone, without looking at the caller ID, and answered.

“What do you want?” Kat sighed on the phone, not having the strength to fake cheerfulness as she usually did. “Oh, sweety, hi, how are you?” ...it was her mother...What a coincidence. “Why are you calling? You haven’t contacted me since I left the country. I’m not sure you realised the passing of time, but it’s been over 15 years.” the girl sneered over the phone, clutching her grip on it. “Don’t be like that, darling, I just wanted to see how my eldest daughter is doing! You see, we want to visit you tomorrow, and -” her mother began, but was quickly cut off by her daughter. “You’re in America?! Why in the world are you here?! You NEVER left the country!” her alarmed reaction was rightfully explained, as her mother only laughed fakely. “Well, you see, your sister is very sick and she needs organ transplants and...You are a perfect match! Your sister really, really needs your kidney, liver and heart, and -” of course the only reason she’d call is because she needed her... “You...Called...So that I would kill myself...And give my organs to your precious daughter...Because I don’t deserve to live, but she does...Sorry, you might not have been informed, I’m a stone cold bitch without a heart, and I’ve always been. If you want organs, beg to a transplant committee, otherwise, I’m not giving my life to some stupid bitch who thinks she’s better than me. Oh, and, by the way, in case you’ve forgotten, you already disowned me long ago, so there’s no reason for you to call anymore. And don’t call me to the funeral, I won’t come. Bye.” Kat aggressively slammed the phone lid close, before throwing it on the ground, putting her head on her hands and finally breaking down to cry...

But there were no tears.

There was only exhaustion.

“Hey.” the low voice of Doctor Gregory House echoed through the room which made the girl squeak in surprise and turn back to look at him with wide, frightened eyes. “Don’t you know it’s rude to sneak up on people?!” she accused him, clutching her blouse where her heart is supposed to be. “I knocked. You didn’t answer, I let myself in. I...See you’re not having the best day.” Greg pointed out, which only made the girl roll her eyes and turn back to look at her shelf. “Yeah, no kidding.” she snorted, her hands grasping her ankles as she looked down. “Why did you come here? Did Wilson tell you what happened and you came to throw some pity words and say how you saved the patient? If yes, then go ahead, I’m listening...As always.” she waved her hand around, urging him to talk and stop being so awkward, but the silence seemed to cut them with a laser. “...Thank you.” the words she never heard uttered from his mouth before shocked her so much that she turned around to look at him, holding the eye contact that she was barely able to hold with anyone. “You...You? Gregory House? Are...Thanking...Me? For what? You never thanked me for anything I did to you, so why the change of heart? Did Wilson’s golden tongue melt your heart and mellowed you?” she taunted him to get him talking, but his expression didn’t seem as harsh or condescending as it usually did, instead, he seemed to be...Almost apologetic? As if he realised that his actions of being himself hurt the people he cares about. “Do you hate me?” Greg asked, which made the girl frown and blink in confusion. “You...Think that I gave up the best thing I’ve ever had, which is my job here, because...I hated you? I loved this place because you were here...And James and Lisa...But now that it’s all over...What are the odds of someone hiring all three of us at once, and...Lisa miraculously becoming the head of another hospital and...Yeah, I’ve got nothing, it’s all ruined. Guess I can finally get a vacation. Anything else you want to say before I fuck off completely out of your life, just as you wanted to?” it was clear that she was exhausted and just wanted to go home and be herself with no more veil of lies covering her. “You...You are too good for jerks like me, Katrina. You should hate me. I repeatedly ruined your happiness time and time again.” House muttered, looking down at the floor. “Right...I’m sorry for caring about you, I guess...If that’s what you want me to say. Stupid Katrina, huh? Always caring about others and forget about herself. Always so miserable and helpless, but nobody seems to notice. Stupid, lonely Katrina, who has no friends and no relatives to care for her...Who only want her alive to donate all her organs to her sick sister and she can just die for all anyone cares. Now, thanks for telling me that I should hate the only person I actually gave a damn about and trusted whole-heartedly. You made your point, as usual, you want me out of your life, I will do just that. Have a not-so-miserable life from now on...At least you.” she wiped her face from the tears, waving her hand for him to leave her alone already, as she looked at shelves again and hugged the fox tightly to her chest, burying her face in it. “The answer is yes.” was the only thing House said as he left her office, his head hung, and for the first time in ages, he felt his own heart aching at the sight of the girl crying.

While he did as he usually does, spending all his time saving his patient, she drank herself to sleep, day and night, listening to sad songs, singing them at the top of her lungs, hoping it would be therapeutical, but at some point, she forgot what it meant to be properly rational, and she touched the forbidden stash she was never supposed to use.

And in the end, at whatever god forsaken hour of the early morning, she called someone, and dearly hoped they would answer. She had no idea why she called this person...Maybe because he was the first person in the calling list, or maybe there was some other underlying reason that she didn’t want to accept.

Apparently, being drunk out of your wits out on the terrace of her penthouse, while singing at the top of her lungs some silly or depressing Romanian songs, as outside was freezing cold and snowing heavily...But she didn’t feel the cold, despite how light she was dressed...It wasn’t enough make her feel something again.

“Katrina? Do you know what time it is?” a gruff, sleepy voice asked on the other end of the line. “N-No, not really. I wasn’t even sure who I called. Sorry.”  she sighed, as she started to cry. “Are...You crying?” a rustle from the other side resembled House getting up rapidly from the bed. “I-I think so, y-yeah. I...I didn’t realise I was crying. I-I don’t even know why I called you.” she gasped, taking another shot of vodka mixed with chocolate bailey’s. “Are you drunk?!” House spoke in a higher voice, obviously shocked, putting on his coat. “You don’t even drink!...I’m coming over.” “N-No, y-you can’t! You can’t see me like this! And...And I have to know something very important from you! It’s VERY important! Life or death important!” she raised her voice into the phone, unkown to him, as she was fidgeting back and forth on the couch, which made House stop in his tracks just as he touched the door knob. “What is it?” he asked in a way so she would try to calm down. “D-Do you...Do you hate me?!” the desperation in her voice was something so foreign for him to experience, but something so usual for her. “What?! What’s that question, why in the world would I hate you?! Katrina, what did you do?!” he slammed the door shut, rushing towards his motorbike. “I NEED to know that! Just answer this simple question! Please, Greg, just answer!” her voice became more strained and desperate. “...Of course I don’t hate you. I couldn’t. Not you.” he sighed, getting up on his motorbike. “No matter what I did?” she started sobbing by now, which really worried the man. “Yes, of course, now hang in there, I’m gonna be there in a few minutes.” Greg put his phone on speaker, in his jacket, so he could still talk to her, as thankfully, their homes were pretty close to each other. “Greg...I-I’m...I’m afraid...I...I did something bad...Something very bad...” she turned around on the couch she was lying on, watching the sky as she shivered, snow falling on her, as she took another shot. “Katrina, I’m waiting at the elevator. What did you do?” House kept tapping his foot until that dreadfully slow elevator pinged, showing it got to the bottom floor, then got in, waiting to reach the pent house. “I...Took pills...” she muttered, clutching the box of pills. “How many?” he asked urgently. “I-I don’t know! I’m drunk, I’m hurting, I’m desperate, I’m lonely and I had a bottle of pills...One, two, three, four, five...And then it’s all blurry...But the bottle seems pretty empty...And I’m scared of an OD...” she explained over the phone, and then, she heard the front door slam close, and next thing she saw was a tall figure rushing in front of her, then he crashed on the couch on the terrace, and he pulled her to his chest, putting his jacket around her shoulders, his hands on her face, trying to warm her up. “You...Absolute...Idiot!” Greg scolded her, which only made her chuckle weakly. “I really am, aren’t I?” she said as more tears fell down her face. “You really don’t hate me, do you? Now that you know?” she clutched tightly to his Tshirt, as he could only sigh and hold her tightly. “No. I don’t hate you. I can’t...Now show me the pill bottle.” he told her, and suddenly, he felt her fall limp in his arms, just as she pointed to the empty, knocked down bottle of anti-drepressants. “What did you do...” Greg muttered in horror as he dragged her to the bathroom, getting her in the bathtub, completely dismissing his aching leg, as he used the shower tap to get warm water on her, while he made her vomit all the pills she downed, hoping she wouldn’t need to go to the hospital, and obviously, that nothing would happen to her.

For the whole night and morning, he didn’t move from there, only holding the girl, checking on her at regular intervals of time, making sure her vitals were still normal... Until she heard a string of incoherent mutters, begging him not to leave her alone and that she doesn’t want to to be away from him.

Oh, Kat, if only you knew what kind of effect you had on him...What kind of pain you were making him feel...The grief of being betrayed by Stacy, the one he thought was the love of his life, and then the painful leg...And now you, someone he cares so much for...

She deserves so much more...She is so much better than he is, House thought, and yet, the selfish part of him, the one that was quickly beginning to gain terrain against his sensible one, desperately wanted to cling onto her and have her be his lover together.

Funny how the ones who look to be the healthiest and happiest are in reality the best actors and nobody knows if there’s ever anything wrong with them.   Which only made her kindness and feelings towards him more genuine, he thought. She’s in constant pain, just like him, it was no wonder she could sympathise so well with, unlike everybody else...Or maybe she was just empathetic enough? More like Pathetic, she’d say, no doubt.

Time passed at an irrelevant pace, until she finally began to stir in her unconscious state, and finally, she fluttered her eyes open, making Gregory sigh in relief, and as soon as they made eye contact, her cheeks began to turn a hue pinker.

“Greg...? Why are you...? What happened...?” Kat muttered, clutching her head in pain. “You don’t remember anything from last night?” he asked, frowning in confusion. “...Sorry. I know I was pretty sad...And I was listening to music from my childhood at home...And I started drinking...And I remember the bottle of pills taunting me...And from then on, it’s all blank. Did I...Did I call you...?” she clinged on his shirt to get into a sitting position. “Yeah, something like that. Can you stand? You need to change into dry clothes before you catch the Rhino thing.” he joked, making the girl smile softly. “Oh no, not the Rhino thing!” she chuckled, and with a bit of help, she got up, and was able to change into proper, warm clothes. “I’m starving, wanna go eat something? I have some coupons for the Chinese restaurant just down the street.” she hooked her arm to his, leaning her head on his shoulder. “Sounds like a plan, let’s go. But before that, you must promise me never to do something like that again.” House looked at her with seriousness in his eyes. “Okay. I promise. I...I don’t know why I caved in like that. I always promised myself I’d never go that far...I fucked up once, but in a different way...And...I guess in my drunk state I didn’t realise that no matter how many pills I take, the pain won’t go away...Drunk people are really stupid, aren’t they” she chuckled awkwardly, lowering her head in guilt and shame as she used her chopsticks to get some noodles. “...People in pain do stupid things sometimes.” Greg muttered, letting silence take over them for a few minutes, before speaking again. “Happy late birthday, Katrina.” his words made her look at him with eye, confused eyes, before taking out her phone at looking at the date, realising she spent her whole birthday drinking. “I...Completely forgot...Guess now we’re even, huh?” Kat smirked, pointing her chopsticks at him in amusement.

Not much time later, House called Kat over to his office at evening, and everyone dear to her was there, celebrating that Lisa managed to get rid of Vogler once and for all...Of course, of the 100 million $ too, but that’s besides the point. They were back in business, the shock family, ready to save more lives again!

Everything went back to normal - Or well, the normality that was entrapped in their weirdness - But it was THEIR normality. A chaos of going back and forth, arguing, almost killing patients, and then, saving them miraculously.

However, nobody is safe from illness, and one day, during some diagnosis discussion, Kat was pacing back and forth, thinking and saying her ideas for the others to refute or agree to, only for her to abruptly stop in her tracks, her back facing everyone as she coughed.

“Haemoptysis.” she muttered, only for House to grimace. “Haemo-what now? Last time I checked, our patient didn’t cough nor spit blood.” but instead of answering, she coughed up a bit more, her hands covering her face. “Vertigo...” she spoke again, in a much fainter voice. “What the hell are you babbling about?” he hit his cane on the ground, only to see her taking a few steps forwards, albeit, a little wobbly. “I’m...Gonna...” and just as she uttered those words, her legs gave out, and she fell, the only reason for not hitting the ground being Greg’s Godly reflexes which ensured he caught her. “Damn it, not again...What are you three sitting around for? Get a crash cart and a nurse!” House scolded his interns, who rushed to do just that. “What did you do this time, Kat...” he shook his head in disdain as he brushed her gorgeous crimson hair out of her face.

She looked so peaceful now, unconscious, were it not for the blood on her chin and hands, but now, unlike last time, she didn’t look like some kind of undead who was ready to give up her life at any given moment out of sheer misery and self-hatred.

As soon as she was taken away from his arms, he refused to go look over her...He didn’t want to admit it, but he was afraid that, since he cared so much about her, he would become unreasonably subjective and he may completely screw up her diagnosis. Greg hoped with all his heart that it was nothing life-threatening, but blood in her lungs was no easy, nor simple thing.

Wilson visited her and held her hand, Cuddy visited her and kissed her forehead, even his subordinates went to check up on her because they wanted to...Even her cardiology colleagues went to see how she was doing...

But not him. Never him. Because if he did, he was screwed for life.

No matter how much he wanted to deny himself, however, he couldn’t help but find himself in her room, in the middle of the night, sitting on a chair besides her, holding her hand in both of his, kissing it and thinking of her diagnosis.

That is, until her hand suddenly started to shake, startling the doctor besides her, as she opened her eyes, panting for air.

“Hey, you okay?” House asked, squeezing her hand gingerly. “Urgh, yeah...Just had a nightmare...Followed by sleep paralysis. Again. Nothing new, here. Uhmm...It may sound as a bit of a deja-vu,  but what in the world happened?” she sighed, getting into a sitting position, looking at him. “You tell me. You coughed blood, got dizzy and fainted. Did you take anything? Felt bad or something?” he asked, making the girl scratch the back of her head awkwardly. “Nothing that I haven’t felt before, really. I have anxiety, I frequently experience restlessness, problems with breathing, arrhythmia, sometimes dizziness and stuff. It’s inconvenient, but you get used to it, so I didn’t took any pills, especially not after that scare a few days ago. Do you...Think it’s because of...My fuck up?” she looked worriedly at him, but he only looked down, thinking. “Not so fun being on the other end, huh?” House smirked before shaking his head. “I have no idea. We need to do some tests on you before we can confirm anything. But you’ll be fine, that much I can guarantee.” he promised, which made her smile sadly, leaning back on the pillow, squeezing his hand back. “Can you stay with me a bit longer? I, uhm...You know...Problems sleeping...When I’m with someone...I tend to sleep better...And a close to a full night. I-I don’t know why, but it’s always been like this.” she brought up the hem of the blanket to cover her face. “Then get a boyfriend and sleep with him. You’re young, smart and beautiful, there’s nothing stopping you from that.” Greg muttered in a low voice, almost self-deprecating. “Yeah, that’s easy. If men actually went out of their way to talk to me...And that hasn’t happened in 15 years, so, as you say, Mazel Tov. That, and I’m afraid of people.” she sighed, biting her lip in embarrassment. “Whaaaaaat? No boyfriend in 15 years? No action? I don’t believe you.” he took off the blanket from her face, only to see her blushing face. “You’re the only person that I never lied to. I’m great at lying and deceiving and all that...But yeah, I know, I’m pitiful, don’t have to remind me. Why do you think my life is mostly spent in the hospital. I’m not as lonely as I’d be at home.” she looked away, snatching her blanket back. “You don’t have to stay. It’s much more comfortable sleeping in a bed, especially with that leg of yours.” “Yeah, it would be. Now close your eyes and get some sleep.” and so, he didn’t budge from her side the whole night, and she didn’t wake up from nightmares or restlessness. 

Days went on, and she kept on getting tested, and House was beginning to get more and more angry at the fact that he wasn’t able to properly diagnose her faster, and he was becoming unbearable for everyone around him.

On the other hand, just as Lisa and James were visiting her, trying to keep her company, when the two people she never expected to see again burst into her room with wide grins on their faces...Which in turn, made Kat drop her phone on the ground from the shock.

“What the hell...?” the red haired girl’s bottom lip quivered in anger. “Kitty-Kat, darling, we missed you so much! You haven’t come home in 15 years!” the mum stepped forward, ready to throw her arms around the girl, but she was met with hostility as Kat dragged herself backwards in the bed, away from her, pure disgust glowing on her face. “Don’t you dare touch me! And don’t you even think about calling me that nickname! I don’t care if you’re my parents, you never gave a damn about me, so don’t pretend to do now that THE perfect daughter is terminally sick and needs a quick organ donation that would ultimately KILL the useless, unwanted, worthless daughter!” Kat sneered at them, untangling the respiratory oxygen tubes who got knotted in her sudden gesticulation. “Kat, are you alright...?” James walked next to her bed, trying to calm her down, only to get yelled at. “No, I’m not! Get them out of here before I get a restriction order!” she continued to glare at them. “Come one, Kitten, don’t be like that, we came all the way from Europe to see you, when you didn’t even give us a call! I don’t know why you hate us.” the dad gave an awkward smile, as if he was embarrassed by his problematic child. “You didn’t call once to tell me Happy Christmas, or...Or Happy Birthday...You didn’t congratulate me on finishing University or on...Literally anything. And now, you come to me only to make sure that I actually die so you could take away my organs and make sure your favourite daughter keeps on living...And you’re actually...You really...Have the guts to ask me WHY I hate you? I hate you because you never cared for me, that’s why!” she gripped the hand grasps of the bed, not realising that House also got in the room. “No need to be so selfish, darling, it’s just a few organs that you could live without! We managed to find a heart transplant, we just need a kidney and part of your liver!” the father tried to negotiate, only for her to grit her teeth. “You know what? I hope my sister dies the most painful death there is, and that you go off after her. We may be blood related, but I was never your daughter. And you know what? Just to make sure...You think you can get my organs? Here’s my response to that!” in a fit of rage, she ripped her oxygen tubes, which continued with violent coughing and some blood. “Why the hell do you even want me to treat you when all you do is get yourself in self-harming situations? First, you OD on anti-depressants while drunk, and now you’re cutting off your oxygen supply to prove your point that you have mummy and daddy issues and that you’d rather die than...Die? You’re just a selfish, immature girl with suicidal tendencies whenever things don’t go her way. You think I’m gonna lie to the transplant committee for someone like that? Because the answer is NO!” House limped in front of her, speaking with so much hatred that it made the girl cry and shake, crestfallen at the words she heard. “And you just had to go ahead and tell everyone that I’m fucked in the head. I wonder how much that is gonna up my chances of actually...Making friends and...A boyfriend...Y’know...Literally anyone who’d actually give a fuck about me. So...Yeah, thanks, you’re right, I’d rather die than being humiliated by the only person I ever actually had any genuine feelings for, because I’m sort of a sociopath with relationship traumas. So, if you could do me a favour, before I pass out, pick these two idiots and get yourself out of this place before I call security, okay? Thanks, bye.” and just like that, she started coughing up more blood, and fainted.

Seeing her being a reckless idiot drove House through the roof, and he realised that maybe, his dad wasn’t the only one to need a “Parent Of The Year” award, but even so, the fact that Katrina was so angry that she felt the need to be so overly dramatic to prove a point, and to have Cuddy kick them out of the hospital, sure was meant she was desperate, and for good reason. No wonder she never spoke about her family, or about anything about herself, unless it meant some nostalgic things about her country and other things that could come up as funny when told properly.

But why the hell does she have to make everything so much more complicated to him, especially now that he completely screwed up everything and she hates him.

How the hell did he manage to fuck up like that, just when he finally got ready to tell her how he feels...How he GENUINELY feels, without having to get full-sarcastic-jerk mode, and just telling her that he’s over Stacy completely and he’s ready to commit to her...And he just ends up basically telling her that he hates her, which is a complete lie.

Great job, Gregory House. The only thing you’re capable of doing is diagnosing and saving people, and sometimes, even that fails. Good thing she was okay, and with some anti-coagulant medicine, the clot that was causing her pulmonary embolism completely disappeared, and she was all ready to go.

Ever since that day, House didn’t visit her, her parents completely disappeared, and James and Lisa were completely pitiful, which only made the girl miserable. Thanking whatever deity existent that it was the last night being stuck in the hospital as the unfavoured party, so she went up on the roof, sitting on the little wall edge, looking up at the starts on the sky, putting the saddest song she ever knew to play on her MP3 player, which was “Daca ploaia s-ar opri” from Cargo, and as she softly sang the lyrics, the door opened and the sound of tapping cane was heard, 

“I have no idea what the words are, but he song seems pretty sad. What gives?” House limped towards her, which only made her groan and roll her eyes in annoyance. “Aaaand you had to ruin the most emotional song as well. Great, what is next on your long list of destroying? I have no dignity, no pride anymore...My health you can’t legally screw...And there’s nothing else on the table is there? I have no heart anyway. So why are you here?” she asked, not even bothering to look at him. “Would you believe me if I said I came here to apologise?” House asked, getting closer to her, then turning his head to look up at the stars as well. “After what you pulled in that room...No. I don’t believe you anymore. You’re a jerk. You’ve always been one, but not to me, and not enough to actually hurt me. Now you did. Congratulations. You lost a friend...Not that you’d care, anyway. You’ve proven me that enough. You can go now.” she sighed, hugging her knees to her chest. “Yeah, I know, I fucked up. I got scared when I saw you pull that stunt, I panicked and...That happened. And I’m sorry about that. I admit that much.” he said as he put his coat around her, hoping she wouldn’t die of cold or something. “Fantastic, the asshole knows how to apologise. Congratulations, you are amazing. Now, do you actually expect me to believe you, or what are you trying to accomplish?” Kat asked, giving him a sarcastic smile. “Before you got sick, I was...I was going to ask you out. But then you got sick, and in turn I got worried sick.” Greg began to explain, only to get cut off. “No, you’re lying or pitying me. You don’t like me. I’m not...I’m not Stacy, or...Or Lisa. I don’t challenge you with every turn you take, I’m not a jerk to you, I am...Practically nothing like the women that you have been interested with, so excuse me for not believing a word you say. I was sick, vulnerable and pitiful, you were miserable, you heard that I haven’t dated in 15 years, you thought I was desperate for love, but trust me, after what happened when I was 17...I don’t think I want anything like that again.” she tsked, looking away from him, laying her chin on her knees. “I know I’m a jerk, but does that really sound like something I would do?” his voice sounded almost hurt at the implication. “...No, it doesn’t. But I also don’t believe that you like me and you’re not saying that just because you heard my dying words...Allegedly. You’ve said your speech, now you can go, and we will continue our work as it always was, without having to see each other, so no more paging me when it’s convenient to you either. Goodbye.” she waved her hand to dismiss him, but he didn’t budge. “What will it take for you to believe me? I will give up my parking spot for you. I will play the guitar for you. I...Will convince Wilson to give me his stupid dog so you could visit him more often. I don’t know, you know I’m horrible with these things called emotions. But I want you to know that what I say its genuine...And apart from what I said today, I never lied to you. So, if you ever have it in your heart to believe me and give it a chance...I’ll be waiting. And...I’ll be here to listen to you talk about your pain as well.” he confessed, and as soon as he turned around to leave, she quickly extended her arm to grab his wrist. “You...Really...Mean it?” she muttered, not daring to look at him. “Because if you fuck up, I swear I’m going to do something completely unethical and against the Hippocratic oath. Primum non nocere, they say. First of all, don’t do harm. I’m completely fine with killing you, because, in case you don’t know, I’m a sociopathic, heartless foreigner with no morals or ethics.” she smirked at him in amusement. “There’s nothing wrong with a bit of Nocere, if you have the Vicodin for it. Fire-Kissed girls are said to kiss the best. If we test that theory and it’s true...Then I think we both know we’re gonna work pretty well. If you want to.” he looked at her, putting her hands of her face, looking at her tenderly. “I really hate that I was made broken from the making in factory to be completely unable of hating how big of a jerk you are. Why is it so...Endearing, when it comes from you, but completely repulsive when it comes from anyone else? I can’t tell, and it’s annoying, because I can read people to a T. On the other hand...There is another saying...Vixens always get what they want. Maybe I finally scored the big jackpot.” she chuckled, pulling him down in a soft kiss, the feeling of warmth and love lingering on, intoxicating them even after they parted. “Yeah. I was right. You’re like my own fix of Vicodin or Amphetamines, and I’m completely addicted to you.” he flashed her a charming, playful smile, before kissing her with even more fire and passion than before. “Careful, you don’t want to OD, do you? You’ll need a detox or rehab.” she laughed at him, putting her hands over his, kissing the inside of his wrist. “Oh, please, I’d OD on you ever day, as many times as you want, and I’d have no regrets. You know what they say...Tout le monde necessite La Petite Mort.” he retorted just as cheekily, which in turn, made her laugh merrily. “I can’t believe-! You just...You just said that-...! You’re an incredibly, annoyingly good flirter, especially because I told you those pick up lines before...But don’t forget about me.” she shook with laughter, winking at him mischievously. “Wilson’s ex-wives always praise him for being the best. I’ll prove him I’m better than him at everything. Especially this.” he chuckled, sitting next to her, putting his arm around her shoulder, pulling her into his chest, kissing the top of her head. “You better not talk about...That...To Wilson...Or Lisa...Or anyone, for the matter, or I swear, that little death you’re talking about, will be more literal than metaphorical.” she threatened him, poking his sides. “Oh, no, I’m scared of a little fox biting my nose while I’m asleep. Whatever could I do?” he mockingly called for help, which, as usual, made her laugh. “Jerk.” she grinned, hugging him tightly, cuddling closer to his side. “Yeah. I’ve been called that a lot.”

[kiruuuuu]

Smoke/Mute in which ten cups of coffee change Mute’s life. (Rating T, slice of life/fluff/budding romance, ~5.8k words) - written for none other than @nutbrain​ for being a remarkable human being and an even better friend 💖 Please enjoy!

.

Mark eyes the shopfront before him with suspicion. His safe haven apparently gone, a flashier version has taken its place some time during the semester break, keeping nothing but the location and the proffered goods. Instead of the old-fashioned, thick-cushioned chairs and dim lighting, the new café shines with an open-floor concept, simple wooden furniture and an overall dark look with specks of gold to brighten it up. Leo Coffee, reads the sign next to a golden logo displaying a roaring lion. What big cats have to do with coffee isn’t obvious to Mark, but he overcomes his initial distaste and steps inside nonetheless.

As visible from outside, the place is deserted. The previous coffee shop was frequented by businesspeople and students alike, located halfway between the campus and Mark’s dorm – on rainy days, people often took public transport and bought their coffee elsewhere, but even on those occasions, it’s never been as empty as this.

Not that Mark is complaining. If the coffee is good, he’ll continue frequenting the new shop, and being able to work in peace would be an added bonus. He is quite fond of Julien and Timur, but even so, they’re not the… easiest to live with. To say the least. A quiet place would be very welcome.

He sets his books down on the table furthest away from the counter, slings his bag over the back of a chair and approaches the empty void where an employee should be standing. This is when he notices another curiosity: there’s no menu board. There isn’t even a menu card by the counter or anywhere, really, only a glass case with a handful of baked goods inside, most of which look like a child made them. So far, the only redeeming quality is the delicious dark smell of roasted coffee beans lingering in the air.

After another minute, still nobody has appeared, so Mark checks his phone for reviews. If the place has less than four stars – alright, three, he’s giving them the benefit of the doubt purely because of their convenient location and quietness –, then he’s out of here. He can’t even remember the last time he had to wait this long to -

“Are you going to order or what?”

Nearly dropping his phone in the process, Mark jumps at the sudden gruff voice and looks up to find himself face to face with a grizzled man. The black apron is all that betrays him as an employee as the unimpressed glare and casual attire do nothing in his favour. “Uh”, he replies eloquently and vows that he’ll never set foot in this place again if this is how he’s going to get treated.

The old man’s expression melts into friendliness. “I’m sorry, I just wasn’t expecting anyone. Welcome to Café Leo – it’s your first time here, so have a loyalty card, lad.”

Mark accepts the piece of paper without thinking, still thrown off by the bloke’s sudden appearance (how does he move completely silent like that), and at least has the presence of mind to inspect it. Its contents are so absurd that he forgets to ask how the man opposite him knew he hadn’t been to the shop yet. “‘After 10 coffee purchases, you’re eligible for a free wish’”, he mumbles, reading the text printed white on black aloud. “‘This offer is not transferable.’ What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that only you can redeem your reward, not anyone else. Would you like some coffee?”

He blinks at the bearded man, trying to ascertain whether he’s being serious, and is met with an almost bored stare. Weighing his options, the scales are only slightly tipped in favour of staying, but only because he knows Julien has a ‘visitor’ over today and there’s no other place he can study – the library is overrun by frantic procrastinators who left finishing their coursework assigned over the break to the absolute last minute, and Manu is coming back tomorrow. Apart from her and his roommates, there’s no one with whom he’s comfortable enough to invite himself over.

Especially not him. God knows why Mark even considered him for a brief second.

Looks like he’ll have to deal with this awkwardness if he wants to get any work done whatsoever. “Alright then. What do you sell?”

“Coffee”, comes the curt answer.

Mark rubs his eyes in exhaustion. He’s beginning to understand why there’s no other customers here. “Sure. Yes. A coffee, then.”

“That’ll be…” The employee trails off while frowning down at his wristwatch. “…um, about £7.92.”

“For one coffee?”

“It’s free refills, son.”

Oh, so maybe this is an American chain. That would explain quite a bit. Mark considers whether he’s staying long enough to get the most out of his money, but seeing as the bloke doesn’t seem the chattiest type and he’s unlikely to get interrupted, he decides it’s worth it. Still, there’s something he simply can’t let go. “… what do you mean, ‘about’ £7.92?”

“Are you paying cash or card?”

Alright then.

The next ultimatum: if the coffee turns out dogshite, he’s never coming back. He’d rather travel an increased distance to a normal coffee shop than to have to deal with this nonsense. Wordlessly, he sets down a £10 note and scoops the change into his wallet before watching the obviously American guy (and maybe the chain imports all their workers, who knows) pour a cup of the darkest coffee he’s ever seen. He unceremoniously sets it down in front of him and makes no indication of mentioning neither cream nor sugar. He’s lucky Mark prefers his energy supply as-is.

“Ta”, Mark mutters and scurries away, glad to escape that hard stare. To make sure he’s not being scammed, he takes a quick sip of the fragrant liquid and is surprised at how pleasant the taste is. Minimal bitterness, a gentle, almost floral note, and just strong enough to satisfy his craving.

Well, crap.

Looks like he’ll have to come back after all.

.

~*~

.

“Did you guys know the old coffee shop closed?”, Mark voices his thoughts into the middle of a medium-sized food war between Manu and Timur involving entirely too many packets of salt.

“The one on campus?”, Manu asks and accidentally elbows Julien in the ribs, causing him to actually look up from his phone for once.

“No, the one halfway to our dorm.”

“I was there last week”, Timur pipes up, making him furrow his brows. A week can’t be enough to refurnish the entire café, let alone switch owners completely. “Is it closed now?”

“There’s a different one instead. It was dead when I went, but the coffee’s good. The bloke serving me was weird.”

“Look at you, stringing multiple sentences together”, Julien chimes in, grinning. “Something novel must’ve happened for you to even bring it up. Was the dude hot?”

“Because that’s the only reason anyone would ever get excited about anything”, says Manu drily. “We can check it out if it’s good, even if the employees suck. Not like we have to socialise with them.”

Mark shrugs and regrets mentioning the café in the first place – it feels somehow personal, whether it’s to do with the odd experience overall or the fact that he ended up staying more than three hours. His productivity was through the roof, the calm atmosphere helped immensely and the thought of his loud friends – as much as he appreciates them – invading his newfound hideout isn’t one he particularly enjoys.

It turned out that the employee wasn’t so bad after all: as soon as Mark considered asking for more coffee, he appeared right by his side and filled his mug again, without bothering him at all. Still, Julien would complain about him and Timur might agree and Manu is likely to judge his impolite manner, and Mark wouldn’t be able to defend him. Even if he doesn’t mind the silent company.

For the moment, he needn’t bother with these thoughts as his friends are wholly occupied with arguing over some internet memes (and Mark remembers vividly how they all had to talk Julien down from nibbling at their laundry detergent pods), so nothing could be further from their minds than sitting down and actually studying for their degrees.

Not that they’re bad students, quite the opposite, they’re just not as… ambitious as Mark. Some have called him obsessed, yes, and he can’t quite refute it, but he prefers to call it ‘determined’. There have been few who are able to keep up with him, which is probably partly the reason why he’s made friends with people from completely different departments. He tends to be a loner in most classes, which suits him just fine.

Well. Most classes.

.

“I would give my left bollock for you.”

Mark certainly doesn’t appreciate the imagery. He hands over the photocopied sheet to the bloke nearly bouncing in delight before shuffling after his fellow students into the lecture hall. Closely followed, of course. “Make sure to change enough details”, he repeats the reminder, earning a scoff.

“I’ll make it illegible, babe, don’t worry.” James plops down next to him, stretching and taking up too much space. “You’re the only reason I’ll actually get credit for this course.”

Oh, Mark is very aware of this fact. He lets his seat neighbour prattle on as he takes out his materials, lines up his pens, and waits for the lecture to start. If he were pressed to explain how he ended up in this position, with a chatterbox glued to his side too lazy to do any of the coursework, he wouldn’t have a concise answer. Other than his inability to say no.

The problem is that James knows exactly who to befriend. Mark is naturally drawn to the overachievers in each class and carefully selects his group for projects, going by people who do put the time and work in to get a good grade – anything where students are meant to collaborate is 30% actual work and 70% politics. The right people tend to listen to him whenever he knows better, because they’re interested in improving and learning, they tend to go along with his division of tasks, because he distributes them fairly and suited to everyone’s skills, and they tend to work best independently, so they can get it done even without excessive communication.

And James? He follows the same strategy as Mark, except that he’s a leech. He latches onto the teacher’s pets, chooses the easiest tasks, always volunteers for presentations (meaning he’ll just have to regurgitate what his group produced), and bribes his groupmates so they don’t throw him out. Whether it’s snacks or drinks after class, whether it’s attention and compliments, or playing matchmaker: he knows how to make himself useful in all aspects other than his studies.

He’s a clown. He makes everyone laugh and worms his way into their hearts so they would feel bad about calling him out. Not having to do any work is his reward for asking questions everyone’s thinking but doesn’t dare ask for fear of looking stupid in front of the prof.

Obviously, James has latched onto him ever since they crossed paths in chem last semester, and Mark considered dropping the current class when he found out that he was in it as well. Even worse, James began asking him for homework, giving excuses like having had no time, not being able to write it down concisely, and so on – and though Mark initially refused, classmates approached him and gently nudged him towards sharing his results with James. Just to be nice. Just to help him. He’s such a good guy after all.

So Mark’s homework gets copied and passed along. And James’ fondness of him only grows.

During the long, meaningless rant interspersed with an impressive amount of curse words, he perks up at a quiet: “Wait, this one doesn’t make any sense.”

His pride won’t let him ignore it. “Which one?”

James points at one of Mark’s answers, a complicated equation. “Shouldn’t that be on top?”

“The denominator?”

An uncertain glance. He points again. “This.”

“You mean the bottom fraction? That’s the denominator, yes. And it is where it should be.”

James frowns, indubitably not content with the reply but possibly unsure how to voice his dissatisfaction.

“Trust me, it’s correct. Just copy it.”

“But I want to understand it.”

Fat chance. No way did he get any of the previous homework without having engaged with the subject matter at all, so it’s impossible for him to work it out, even if Mark explained it. Which he doesn’t want to. Because he figures it’d be like explaining string theory to a brick wall. He’s saved by the prof’s entry, knowing James at least has the decency to shut up during class, and hopes he can simply slip away afterwards.

It turns out, however, James is fully aware of his biggest weakness. “Do you have a bit of time after? You think you can explain it to me? Please?”

Yikes.

Not only is Mark burning to show him how wrong he is, he’s also entirely unable to refuse a plea for help. And there’s no doubt James knows this. He can’t keep getting away with it, he’s exploiting Mark enough as it is without offering much – if anything – in return, plus it’s obvious the endeavour is futile and doomed from the start. And this is disregarding the possibility of James suggesting more meetings in the future. So, like the reasonable adult he is, Mark replies: “Sure.”

And has never wanted to kick himself more.

.

If this bloke really is the only employee they have, it’s no wonder the place is dead yet again. They stare at each other, unblinking, and seem equally dismayed about each other’s presence. “Hi”, says Mark after a few seconds of tense silence.

The old man is wearing the same clothes as last time, apron and jeans – even his disinterested expression hasn’t changed. “I’m Sam”, he offers completely out of the blue, surprising Mark with how unexpected the introduction is. “I figured you shouldn’t have to keep calling me ‘this bloke’ in your head.”

“… Mark”, he responds hesitantly.

“Is that a threat?” Sam barks out a brief, mirthless laugh. “I know. You wrote it on your loyalty card.”

He most certainly did not, but only because the card is solid black with white text. “Look, I’m just here to buy coffee.”

“You brought a friend.” Sam indicates James who already sat down by a window and is absorbed in his phone for the time being – and for all his faults, Mark has to admit that at least his (limited) attention is always on the person he’s talking to; he’s never seen his fellow student even checking for messages during a conversation.

“Not really”, he says nonetheless and is reasonably sure they’re out of earshot. “We just have chem together.”

“You have chemistry, hm?”

He wonders if it’s possible to set someone on fire with a hard look alone. “Just sell me the bloody coffee.”

“For the both of you?” Sam turns around and studies the clock on the wall behind him, whispering to himself for a few seconds before announcing: “That’ll be roughly £15.84.”

“Fine.” He holds out a card, scowling when Sam makes no move to take it.

“No complaint?”

“Is it gonna be cheaper if I do? Besides, he’s paying. So I don’t care.”

“Oh. Then it’ll be £22.43.”

“Why is it -” As quickly as his annoyance spikes, it ebbs again. It’s obvious there’s no logic behind all this nonsense, yet he still tries: “If it’s cheaper for me, I’ll pay and get the money back from him.”

“That’s illegal. You’ve already told me he’s paying.”

“I’m not trying to buy liquor, why would it -” Deep breaths. He already told James about how good the coffee is, and if they go anywhere else, someone else might see them. He’s strongly incentivised to stay. “Fine. Here.”

Sam runs the card and, as last time, pours two very unimpressive mugs before, to Mark’s horror, reaching into the display case and pulling out two slices of cakes on their own respective plates. The chocolate one is drooping and threatening to fall over if anyone looked at it wrong, and the sponge cake seems suspiciously wet. There’s no telling how long they’ve been sitting there. “It’s on the house”, Sam says, almost begrudgingly, as if he was the inconvenienced one.

Mark considers asking for forks or napkins but decides that the shorter their interaction, the healthier his sanity. “Ta, mate. Do you need my loyalty card?”

“No need.”

Fair enough, though he’s not sure what the point of it is, then. He carries the coffees and cakes over in two trips and wonders how he’ll get rid of the sickly-looking bakeware without Sam noticing. When James eventually tries his piece and doesn’t keel over immediately though, Mark gives his own a try.

It’s the best chocolate cake he’s ever had. And he’s never been madder in his life.

.

~*~

.

At some point, it turns into stubbornness. There’s a few mannerisms, the odd hobby and some of his preferences which started out as either ironic, as guilty pleasures or as things he actively disliked, but the more he engaged, the more he developed the attitude of: you know what? This is mine and I don’t care what anyone says about it.

He’s starting to adopt Leo Coffee. The awkward vibe about it, the indecipherable employee, the delicious food and drinks – it holds its own charm in a way, and he’s stopped wondering about being the only patron. It’s perfect for studying or unwinding, and does wonders for his stressed soul. He’s been returning regularly now, about once a week, and even brought James with him a second time to argue about yet another homework he criticised. The atmosphere renders Mark calmer, more patient, and so he endured the other man’s presence for much longer than he would’ve thought possible. They stayed for almost three hours the first time, even longer the second.

Just to make sure he’s not being a nuisance, he tried to check the coffee shop’s opening hours and wasn’t even sure what he expected to find. They’re listed nowhere, of course, and Sam switched topics the instant he brought it up.

So now the only people he has to drag in here are his friends, who have somehow evaded his efforts so far – but not today. Timur and Julien promised to come even though Manu has to go to some recital or other, meaning she’s excused. For now.

Eyes idly following pedestrians outside, he’s resting his chin in his palm and waiting. Being the only punctual one has always meant boredom, so he’s lucky his mind is imaginative enough to keep him occupied in the meantime. His train of thought meanders through all the topics occupying his brain recently, how the new guy Julien is seeing is basically moving into their apartment, how Timur keeps hanging around the wrong crowd, how unfair it is that Manu aces all her courses with so little effort, how he happened to run into James during his break today and almost suggested spending it together -

His phone buzzes, interrupting his aimless daydreaming and prompting him to check the colourful screen.

I got ambushed, writes Julien and it’s unclear whether he’s being cryptic on purpose. Mark sends a question mark and has to wait a minute or two for the explanation: Sudden date night, looks like Netflix & chill boys ;) sry for ditching you but the shop isn’t gonna go anywhere right?

An eye roll later, Mark responds with a simple TMI.

I don’t think I’ll make it either, adds Timur, a friend wants to yarn bomb the stature by City Hall and they need me as lookout.

This one gets points for creativity at least. He sighs and reassures them with a quick sure, no problem before commending himself for not going home first to drop his bag off. Now he can just study instead. Woohoo.

Another brief vibration, this notification from a completely different group chat, one Mark apparently forgot to leave once the project was done: @Mark: are there carrots in carrot cake?

The number is translated to ‘GirthControl’, so there’s just one person this could be. He stares at his screen. Is that a trick question? Yes, he feels confident enough to affirm to James.

Ah okay. Thanks babe.

This is when it occurs to him: Wait, why did you only ask me?

Silence. Whatever quest James is currently on, it apparently required Mark’s input and Mark’s input only.

He can’t help but laugh at the absurdity and suddenly feels a lot less abandoned. In the grand scheme of things, it doesn’t matter whether his friends don’t rank him at the top of their priority list as long as he’s on it somewhere. And knowing that he’s left a lasting impression on James beyond being the lad who supplies him with homework is oddly reassuring.

When he approaches the counter, Sam once again materialising out of nowhere (at least that’s what it feels like – he’s always there when Mark needs him and never at any other time), he’s decided to not get weirded out by anything today. “A coffee”, he orders confidently and inspects the haphazardly thrown together bagels featured prominently in the infamous display case. “And a bagel.” He doesn’t bother specifying, Sam will choose for him anyway.

After peering at the digital alarm clock on the counter, Sam announces the approximate value of the aforementioned items and then squints at him. “Weren’t you going to meet with somebody?”

Mark half-shrugs. “Kinda. They’re busy though.”

“Mind if I join you?” He must notice Mark’s surprise because he adds: “It’s your ninth time here. Would be a shame if we didn’t get to talk before you’ve filled up your loyalty card, don’t you think?”

“Alright”, he agrees and waits until Sam has poured himself a mug as well before they sit down at Mark’s usual table – tucked away in a corner but close enough to the windows to be able to do people-watching if his eyes need a rest from staring at textbooks or screens all day long. It’s the first time he examines the man opposite him more closely: the distinguished features, greying beard, wild mane of hair. He looks too… important to be working in a coffee shop, like he was destined for greatness. Mark can’t picture him angry even if he exudes a bitter, cynical aura which he’s likely to hide behind sarcasm.

“How did you end up here?”, he wants to know, genuinely curious.

“Good question.” Sam takes a few sips of his excellent coffee as he ponders how to reply. “It’s a temporary thing, that’s for sure.” He leaves it at that. “What do you study?”

Mark eyes the disorganised heap of books keeping his bagel company and sighs. “At this point, I don’t even know anymore.”

“Sounds fun.”

“It is”, he emphasises. “I love studying.”

“Where’s the problem then?”

There is none, he wants to say yet his mouth refuses to comply. He stares into the dark liquid, running his thumb over even porcelain and then decides to sod it – he asked, right? And somehow, it’s always easier to unload on a complete stranger. “I feel like it’s all I’m doing.”

“You keep others at a distance on purpose.” He nods, even though it wasn’t a question. “So don’t be surprised if they do the same.”

“I’m not.” The warmth seeps into his palms as he wraps his hands around the mug, providing as much comfort as Sam’s gentle tone. “I just want it to be different.”

“Make an effort. It’s never to late to change. I’m sure your friends will appreciate it. Put some trust in them, they’re your friends for a reason.” He nods again, lost in thought. “Have you figured out what you’re going to wish for next time?”

He scoffs, amused. There isn’t a single thing he can imagine himself wanting from the old man before him, so he’s unlikely to wish for anything at all. “No. Not yet.”

“Well, think about it. I believe in you, son.” With that, Sam downs the last of his own coffee and gets up, ready to walk back behind the counter and only stops when Mark calls his name.

“Is there someone you care about?”

It’s the first time he sees Sam smile. “Yes. There were two, but I lost one – so I keep the other one twice as close without trying to be suffocating. It’s hard. But remember, Mark, it’s never too late to tell the people in your life how you really feel.” And then he’s gone, disappeared into the back, leaving behind a faint nostalgia tinted with hope.

There’s no challenge from which Mark has shied away in his life, and this one isn’t going to be his first.

.

~*~

.

The word fuck on his lips, Mark bursts into the café like a panicked chicken. He’s juggling two bags and his phone, his frantic typing only interrupted by the need to breathe now and then, and nearly drops it when he slams his book bag to the ground at the counter. “Sorry, one sec”, he addresses an unimpressed-looking Sam as he dials a number and curses once more when it’s not immediately picked up. “Can I get a coffee to go?”, he asks, out of breath, as the dial tone beeps in his ear.

“I don’t serve people who are on the phone”, Sam replies, as calm as ever.

Mark mentally increases the number of people who’d be dead if his looks could kill by one. “This is the worst thing to ever happen to me”, he says gravely and hangs up after thirty seconds have passed. “I’m gonna fail this class.”

“An event without precedence, I assume?”

“You have no bloody idea. But yes, a coffee please, I need to go back to the library and get an entire semester’s worth of material because I’m too fucking dumb to read a syllabus correctly. This has never happened to me, I have one day to write this assignment and I’m lacking so much -”

“Can you give me the time?”, Sam interrupts him nonchalantly and stares at the screen of Mark’s phone as he holds it up for him to read. “Thanks. Let’s say £2.63.”

“And I can’t study at home because Timur has his friends over, and Manu is in a panic herself, and I know the library is going to be overrun by people who treat the study rooms like their social media accounts by loudly oversharing all the time, and I have no idea how I’m supposed to do this. Maybe I’ll just accept fate and fail. No clue how I’m gonna tell my parents.”

“Your loyalty card.”

Distracted, Mark fishes it out of his wallet and puts it on the counter. “And the other people in chem aren’t answering or are no help at all, I don’t get it, I’ve done group projects with them and still they don’t have the courtesy to help me out in this. It was a genuine mistake, as stupid as it is, and I’m just -”

“You need to write it down.”

He’s briefly interrupted in his rant to frown at the black paper card. “Write what?”

“Your wish.”

“But you won’t be able to read it. I only have black or blue pens.”

“Doesn’t matter. Write it down.”

With an irritated sigh, Mark takes out a pen and thinks for a second, the majority of his attention elsewhere still. Eventually, he scribbles someone who cares, not that it’d be legible in any way, and hands it to Sam. “That’s it? I’m not sure this reward system is going to pay off in the long term, you know.”

Sam holds the card up to the light as if he was inspecting a bank note and nods, apparently satisfied. “You’re all set. Good luck.”

“Ta, I’m gonna need it.” Mark shoves all his belongings in various pockets, hoping he’ll remember where he put them, and grabs the to-go cup. And then, without so much as a goodbye, he storms back out, steeling himself for an all-nighter certain to mess up sleep schedule for days, if not weeks.

He ascribes it to his flustered state that he doesn’t look up as he exits the coffee shop, and promptly runs into someone, collides with what feels like a solid wall. His coffee gets squished and sloshes over, soaking the front of his clothes – fortunately, it’s not hot at all, more like lukewarm which is odd in and of itself. He swears again, yanking his phone out of his pocket before it gets wet also and it’s only due to another hand grabbing the device that it doesn’t plummet to the ground straightaway.

“Oh bollocks, I’m so sorry”, says the wall he ran into which turns out to be none other than James. Of all people. “Are you alright? Is it hot?”

“No, no, I’m fine”, Mark presses through clenched teeth, the stress slowly overwhelming him. “But now I have to go home and change before I can start on this stupid fucking -”

“Babe. Calm down. What’s wrong?”

He takes a deep breath and ignores the quickly cooling wet patches on his clothes for the moment. “I still have to do the report. I didn’t realise we were meant to -”

“Oh, you haven’t done it? At all?”

“No! No, I didn’t, and everyone else is partnered up so I can’t just join someone else, so I’ll have to -”

“I’m not paired up.”

“Sure, once I’m done I’ll put your name on there, whatever, but that doesn’t -”

“Babe. Mark. Listen to me.” James waves in front of his face with a slight grin. “I did it. It’s almost done. I’ll put down that we did it together and you’re good.”

He stares at James, mouth open, for several unflattering seconds. “Wait – you… how?”

“I can show you, but it’s at my place. My roommate is around your height, he can lend you some clothes. Let’s go.”

And yet again, Mark finds himself unable to refuse. He drinks what’s left of his coffee in one go (and it really is tepid, he must’ve gotten really lucky), tosses the cup in the nearest bin and leaves Leo Coffee behind without a single glance back.

.

James’ flat looks exactly like Mark would’ve imagined it, only louder. Double bass and epic vocals are permeating every room, and all available horizontal surfaces are littered with stuff. The walls are plastered with posters, some funny, some pretty, some morbid, and it reeks of weed.

A small part of Mark feels right at home, oddly enough.

“Turn the fucking music down!”, James yells at the top of his lungs, throwing him an apologetic look, clearly uncomfortable with the state of it all and ignorant as to Mark’s growing amusement.

Somewhere, a door opens and the shrill guitars become clearer. “Whot?”, someone replies just as loudly.

“Exactly!”, is James’ deafening reply, and a few seconds later, the melodies decrease to a reasonable level. Another bloke joins them, tall and well-built with an unkempt beard and a band shirt as well as no socks.

“Who’s that? Is he allowed to be here?”, asks James’ roommate and regards Mark with suspicion.

“That was Sabaton, wasn’t it?”, Mark inquires back. “Primo Victoria?”

The dude’s entire face lights up like a Christmas tree. “Oh, a connoisseur. He can stay, James, I like him already.”

And while the two of them exchange more words, Mark goes exploring. He ends up in what must be James’ room which is covered in paper, be it books or hand-written notes, and most of it seems related to chemistry in some way. Curious, Mark looks around until he finds a spiral-bound notepad titled with the name of the course they’re sharing this semester. Contrary to his expectations, it’s far from empty – not only does it contain copious lecture notes, it also features every assignment they’d been given since the start of the course.

Solved differently from Mark’s own answers.

Confused, he checks more closely and finds a recurring pattern: equations that are struck-through, calculations lacking several steps in between which wouldn’t be accepted by the prof this way, and very little text. It looks like the writings of someone who certainly understands the material but simply has a hard time putting his thoughts in order, putting his ideas into neat writing.

He’s been immersed for several minutes when James finally joins him, and when he does, Mark holds up his notes and greets him with a simple: “What the fuck?”

James doesn’t seem to realise where Mark’s problem lies and shrugs. “Yeah, I’m a hopeless case, I know.”

“No. No, you’re really not. This is – look here, if you just shift this around, you end up with the correct result. You’re like 95% of the way there, you just didn’t finish it.”

“Oh.” James blinks at him. “I guess. It’s kinda like that with the report. I was hoping you could help me write the conclusion, I’ve got the rest, but -”

“Sure. Yes.” Mark’s agreeableness seems to astonish his host. “That’ll take an hour, maybe two. And I won’t have to pull an all-nighter. James, you have no idea how much you saved me.”

And James, bless his soul, is blushing. “Well. No problem. I owe you anyway. Right?” He suddenly remembers he’s holding spare clothing and vaguely gestures in Mark’s direction. “You, uh, you can change in the bathroom. Don’t mind the cat, she just loves staring at naked people. Dom found out the hard way.”

Twenty minutes later, Mark is reading through James’ report with a ball of fur purring on his lap, faint metal playing in the background. There’s a lot of grammar and spelling to be fixed, as well as phrasing, but content-wise, it’s near flawless. He’s smiling to himself, enjoying the way James turns almost bashful whenever he compliments his work, and remembers Sam’s words from the second-to-last time he visited the café: it’s never too late.

He’s definitely treating James to dinner after he’s saved his arse like this.

.

The next time Mark passes by that familiar spot, the next time Mark develops a craving for caffeine and some peace and quiet, the next time he plans to go to Leo Coffee, all he finds is the same coffee shop which has been here for years already, the afternoon crowd populating the tables and several diligent employees taking care of the customers.

Somehow, Mark isn’t the least bit surprised.

[let-it-raines]

your wonder under summer skies (10/?)

Summer in Storybrooke, Maine means one thing for its residents: tourist season. This year, for Emma Swan and Killian Jones, it means relationships ending and friendships changing all the while they attempt to figure out just what their relationship is. It’s somewhere straddling the line between friends and lovers, and there’s no guarantee of a soft landing if they fall into new territory.

rating: mature

ao3: beginning | current

tumblr: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 |

-/-

“Swan? Let’s do what?”

Emma’s lips are parted, and he keeps waiting for her to finish her sentence, to say something. He was rather interested in hearing what exactly she was about to suggest that they do, but she’s no longer paying him any attention.

What could have possibly gotten her attention?

Killian twists his head around to look behind him, and it would be impossible to miss Neal.

Neal and Tamara and the way that they’re standing hand in hand in line for the Ferris wheel like some kind of cliché out of a bad movie that plays on TV every Saturday night.

Well, fuck.

Killian’s hands fall from Emma’s hips before he moves them to her shoulders, tugging on them and trying to get her attention. It doesn’t work at first, but then she’s blinking and shaking her head before snapping her mouth shut, her lips pressed into a firm line.

“Hey, let’s get back to my place, yeah? The fireworks will be soon, and we don’t want Liam and Elsa to get the good spots. Liam’s got that huge head, so he might block the view.”

Her laugh in response is pathetic, and she obviously knows it from the way she overcorrects and attempts to make her laughter genuine. It falls flat. She’s an open book to him sometimes, he wishes all the time, and right now, he knows the path her mind is about to take.

He would know. He’s pretty much paved the damn path for her.

“What the fuck is he doing here?” she hisses, eyes slanting.

“It’s a holiday. Everyone here spends it at the pier.”

“Not Neal. Never Neal. He told me every year that he would never come with me. That asshole.”

Emma pulls away from him, and he loses his grip on her shoulders as she storms off toward Neal. Her swan falls off, and he has to lean down to pick it up.

Bloody hell.

Is he ever going to get to quit chasing this woman?

“Emma,” he shouts before cursing under his breath. He doesn’t need to bring attention to them. “Swan, hey.” He has to jog to catch up to her, tugging on her wrist and pulling her back and away from the main path until they’re standing between two booths.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m going to go yell at that fucking bastard for showing up here with her.”

“That is not going to make you feel better.”

“Really? Because I think getting to tell him that I absolutely despise him would make me feel a hell of a lot better.”

“For a moment, yeah, but then it all goes away and he gets the satisfaction of knowing that he is still affecting you like this.”

She scoffs and rolls her eyes. He may be a stubborn ass, but she’s the exact same way.

“Really? You’re telling me this? You, who if I remember correctly, had sex with me to forget about your ex when she showed up, is preaching about momentary satisfaction not being good enough.”

Killian flexes his hand and tries to keep it from balling up into a fist. He’s got the stuffed swan in his left hand, and it’s already straining from how he’s clenching it. Damn thing. He hates how easily it hurts now.

He hates that this is the way Emma is about to be, but if she’s going to have to realize that he’s more than capable of giving what he gets.

Stepping closer to her, Killian dips his head down until his looking into Emma’s eyes. “Aye, that I did, but I was not the first to do it and I also regretted treating you like that. I think it may be smart for you to remember that before you decide to throw stones at me because you’re upset with Neal.”

Her jaw clenches, and her eyes cut away from him. He can feel the heat radiating off of her, and her chest heaves as she breathes. There’s this part of him, something he knows is primal, that can’t look past the way her breasts look as they move or the way that he can see her stomach when he looks down. She’s been wearing a bloody bikini all night, the flannel shirt on top of it not at all buttoned, and he’s tried not to think too much of it.

He has spectacularly failed. The woman is a temptress.

But she is also his best mate, and none of that is what he should be focusing on since it doesn’t even make the list of his priorities at the moment.

“I think I need to be alone.”

“Swan – ”

“It’s…you’re fine. We’re fine. I’ll be on the rooftop at ten like I’m supposed to be so we can all watch explosions in the sky. I just need some time to breathe.”

“Emma.”

She finally looks at him. “I’m not going to talk to Neal. I promise. See you later, okay?”

“In half an hour, love. I’ll save you a seat.”

“Good.”

And then she’s walking away and turning in the opposite direction of Neal and Tamara. Killian, however, can’t seem to do that.

He’s seen Emma upset more times in the past month and a half than he has in the past five years. There have been times when she’s broody and annoyed and mad as hell, occasionally at him, but it’s never been like what he’s seen lately.

It’s never been heartbreak that she’s been attempting to hide.

If he’s honest with himself, he’s never cared this much either.

Right now, though, all he can think about is what a fucking idiot Neal has to be to cheat on Emma and to keep doing things that are going to upset her.

She doesn’t deserve it. No one does.

Well, Neal Cassidy might.

He and Tamara are still standing in line at the Ferris wheel, but Killian now realizes that they’re not in line at all. They’re simply standing there talking with Neal’s hand on Tamara’s ass as she throws her head back in laughter.

If Emma wanted Neal to come here every year, Killian can’t understand why he wouldn’t. They were together for half a decade, and the man couldn’t come once? It’s not asking much. Hell, it’s barely asking anything.

But he’s here with the woman he was sleeping with behind Emma’s back?

Maybe he should have let Emma tell him off because that would feel so damn good right now.

Breathing in, Killian pushes down the urge to walk toward Neal and decides to walk past him. Momentary satisfaction, he reminds himself. If he discouraged Emma from doing it, he can’t be the hypocrite.

Damn does he want to be.

Fortunately, or unfortunately really, for him, Neal seems to want to let him have the opportunity.

“Hey, Jones.”

Fuck.

Killian stops walking and slowly turns on his heels. Cassidy is walking toward him, his girlfriend staying back where they were standing, and Killian is definitely going to rip the head off of this swan before the night is over.

Better it than Neal, he guesses.

(Logistically. He would much rather rip the bastard’s head off, but he doesn’t want to spend the rest of his life in prison.)

“Cassidy,” Killian greets, but he doesn’t offer anything else.

Neal smiles and laughs before sticking his hands in his pockets and shrugging. Is he trying to look nice? Because it sure as hell isn’t working.

“Can I talk to you for a minute? In private.”

“You can talk, but you can talk here. I’ve got somewhere to be in a few minutes.”

Neal’s eyes narrow, and he looks down at Killian’s hand. Out of instinct, Killian wants to pull his shirtsleeves down and cover his scars, but that’s not what Neal is looking at.

“Look, man,” Neal sighs, that same, insincere smile on his face, “I saw you walking around earlier with Emma, and I feel like I’ve got to warn you.”

Oh, this asshole definitely deserves to have his head ripped off.

“Pardon?”

“You and Emma.” He shrugs again while Killian straightens his shoulders. “I always kind of knew you two had a thing going on, but I didn’t believe it until I saw you walking around with her earlier. I’m cool with it and all, but I don’t think you know what you’re getting into with her. There are a hell of a lot consequences when it comes to choosing to be with Emma, and they’re not good ones.”

Killian swallows as his teeth start to grind. What kind of bastard is this man? Who the hell does he think he is to tell Killian that there are consequences to being with Emma? Killian wants to laugh, he really does. He wants to laugh and tell Neal that he has no idea what he’s talking about since Killian is most definitely not with Emma.

Mostly, he wants to knock the man’s front teeth out and break his fucking nose. He used to not be this bad. Killian was rarely a fan, but Neal had his redeeming qualities. They could have been friends in a way.

He doesn’t mourn the lost opportunity there.

“What could you possibly know about choosing Emma?” Killian sneers, stepping into Neal’s space. “Because it seems to me that you didn’t, that you did the opposite of that, and for you to think that you have any right to what she does with her life has got to be the most idiotic thing I’ve ever heard.”

“So, you are fucking her then? I was right.”

It’s like he’s just been slapped across the cheek.

“What could possibly make you think that?”

“You wouldn’t be defending her like that if you weren’t.”

He scoffs and closes his eyes, his breathing heavy. “You said there were consequences to choosing Emma, aye? Well, I would still choose her every damn time even though I’m not with her. You, on the other hand, left, and the consequences of that mean I never want to hear about you trying to interfere with her life again. Go spend time with your girlfriend, Cassidy. I’m sure she’d love to know that you’re still hung up the woman you left to be with her.”

“Fuck you.”

Killian bites his tongue and focuses on the feel of the stuffed swan in his hand to keep him from doing something stupid.

“Emma has always deserved better than you. It’s a shame it took you hurting her to see it. Fuck off, Neal. I think it’s time that you moved on.”

“Neal?” Tamara calls from behind them. “Is everything okay?”

Neal blinks, slowly, and then the smile on his face transforms from sinister to charming. “Just catching up with an old friend.”

And then he walks away and goes back to Tamara.

Killian has no idea what just happened. All he knows is that he’s pissed off, still desperately wants to break Neal’s nose, and he doesn’t know how he’s going to act normal around everyone when they’re watching the fireworks.

He just really needs a damn drink.

But he is not paying for an overpriced one when he’s got perfectly good rum at home.

It’s easy to get back to his apartment once he gets out of the crowd. It’s quieter, too, and he can hear voices coming from the rooftop already. The darkness of the night makes it impossible to tell who’s up there, but he’ll find out soon enough. When he walks inside and makes his way upstairs, Skipper is asleep on the couch. He doesn’t bother to do more than lift his head when Killian comes in. Some guard dog.

Killian puts the swan down on the kitchen island, reaches into the cabinets for a bottle of rum, and takes a long sip. He doesn’t need a glass, not yet.

“You planning on sharing that?” Emma asks.

Shit. He didn’t even know she was here yet, but she’s sitting in the dark corner of the living room with her knees pulled to her chest.

“Do you want some?”

“You don’t have my wine, so yeah, yeah I do.”

She stands from the chair and walks over to him, grabbing the bottle out of his hand before taking a long, slow sip. She’s usually not much of a rum drinker, but it does happen on occasion.

“Why aren’t you up on the roof with the others?”

“Didn’t feel like climbing up there yet. You know, it’s really a shame that the fire escape is not on the side of the building that your room is on. Would have saved me once or twice.”

“I’ll have a talk with whoever built this place a few decades ago.”

She huffs and takes another sip before putting the bottle on the counter. “I wasn’t ready to see everyone. I don’t know. I felt like maybe I couldn’t keep it together, and I…well, I felt really damn pathetic.”

“Hey, hey, no, don’t do that. I – ” Killian sighs and reaches forward to put his hand on her shoulder, squeezing. “Do you want to go to my room and talk? I know we don’t have our slushies, but I think it can still work.”

“To talk or to…”

His lips press together. “To talk, love. Come on.”

Killian gently pushes Emma out of the kitchen until she’s walking toward his bedroom. He grabs the swan off the counter as a last-minute thought before following her. She doesn’t turn on the lights, so he doesn’t either. Instead he moves to open the curtains on all of his windows so that moonlight filters through. The fireworks will be starting soon, and he doesn’t want to miss them. He’s got a pretty good feeling they won’t make it up to the roof tonight, but he’s fine with that.

His mattress squeaks as Emma settles down, and it shifts when he joins her, the both of them settling against the headboard and under the comforter. It’s silent for awhile, and while Killian thinks Emma is going to take the lead, he finally realizes that she isn’t.

For once, it might have to be him making the first move.

Out of the corner of his eyes, his scars flash silver in the moonlight, and all of the sudden, Killian has this unbelievable need to share something he hasn’t talked about in years.

Something he’s never wanted to tell Emma before, but now, it’s all he can think about.

“Do you know how I got the scars on my arm, love?”

She twists her head. He’s not looking at her, but he can feel her gaze on his face instead of his arm. “No.”

“I was in an accident.”

“When you were in the Navy?”

Killian clicks his tongue. If only.

If only it had been that. He imagines that might be easier to deal with when it’s all said and done, but that’s not at all what happened.

“It was a car accident, actually.” He swallows and braces himself. If he focuses on simply staring at the painting of a sailboat hanging above his television, he might be able to get through this. “I was with my girlfriend at the time. Her name was Milah. We’d been out to dinner, and I was driving us back to my place. The roads were empty. I swear, I’d never even seen them that empty, and our light turned green so I started driving when an SUV ran a red light and crashed right into us in the intersection. I don’t actually know what happened after that, but the police report said we flipped several times before hitting a tree.”

A soft, small hand brushes against his own, and he spreads his fingers so Emma can twine hers together with his. It’s the most comfort he’s felt in ages, so he doesn’t stop himself when he brings their joined hands to his lips.

“Milah died in that accident, while all that happened to me was my hand getting caught in the door and shards of glass leaving some pretty nasty scars. I don’t even know how I stood up again after Liam told me she was gone. I didn’t think I would survive. I was so young and in love, and I thought she and I had the entire world in front of us.”

Emma squeezes his hand, and really, it’s better that way instead of her trying to say anything.

That’s not why he’s sharing this.

“I was so heartbroken. I’d never felt pain like that before, but then, as I started to make funeral arrangements, I got a call from her husband telling me that I was not welcome. I didn’t know she had a husband, that she had a son either, and it was like I was grieving two different things: the woman I’d lost and the woman I thought I knew.”

“Killian.”

“Don’t,” he whispers, pulling their arms over Emma’s shoulder and tugging her closer. “Don’t say anything. I don’t want pity. I simply felt like you deserved to know this about me and to know why I am so unbelievably fucked up when it comes to relationships. I loved a woman who lied to me for years, and I loved her still even after I knew about it. That anger you feel toward Neal? The one that’s mixed with betrayal and sadness and this underlying love, I have felt it. Sometimes I still do, and you are not pathetic for feeling anything that you’re feeling. I don’t care how many times we have to have this conversation. I will tell you the same thing every damn time.”

“Maybe one day I’ll actually be able to listen to you and believe it.”

“It takes time, and while I’m sure one of our friends is much better equip to understand emotions, I know that I understand you, Emma. I always have, and though you piss me off half the time, I’m never going to judge you for anything.”

She sighs, her shoulders moving with it, and then she leans her head over to his shoulder, strands of her hair tickling his chin, and Killian tugs her closer before brushing his lips against her forehead. There’s a loud whistle outside and then an explosion of light that flickers down over and over again as the fireworks show starts. the view isn’t quite the same from in here, the height of the windows not quite right, but he’s not going to complain. There are things much more important than lights in the sky.

“Do you want to hear something stupid?” Emma suddenly asks.

“I always want to hear something stupid.”

“I’ve never won a stuffed animal before. Hell, I’ve never even had one as a kid.”

Suddenly, he gets why it was such a big deal to Emma that Neal come with her to the festival. He understood, partially, but sometimes he forgets that Emma’s childhood wasn’t ideal. It was hard and painful from the few things he’s been honored to hear from her, and even with how much his sucked, it wasn’t like Emma’s. He at least had a few good experiences before his mum died and before his father became one of the biggest asses in the world.

It’s not a competition in who has had a shittier life, but it does help him keep on understanding her. A few days ago she made some off-hand comment about having a few minor run-ins with the law as a teenager, something about stealing food from convenience stories, and it clicked in his mind why she doesn’t like when Neal works at the pawn shop.

She doesn’t want to fall back into her past, and she doesn’t want to take any risks that are going to lead her there.

Knowing that and knowing that Neal must have known too, makes Killian seriously regret not breaking the man’s nose.

“It’s not stupid, love. If it’s important to you, in any way, it’s important to me.”

Her laugh is lost amongst the sound of the fireworks, but he still hears it. It’s a good sound to be able to hear.

“I always wanted to get to play the games as a kid, but I didn’t have the money. So, I don’t know. It was nice. It was stupid, but it was nice. I’ll have to find a place to put it in my apartment even though I’m not sure where in my apartment it would go.”

“On that chair in your bedroom where you put all the clothes you’re supposed to put up but never do.”

“Shut up. Just accept that I’m thankful for it. Don’t make fun of my laundry habits.”

“Sweetheart, I’ll win you however many stuffed animals your heart desires. No questions asked.”

“Then I expect several next year.”

Killian laughs into her hair as something unfamiliar settles in his stomach. “It’s a deal.”

-/-

-/-

@qualitycoffeethings​ @mrtinski​ @klynn-stormz​ @scarletslippers​ @jonirobinson64​ @snowbellewells​ @therealstartraveller776​ @thejollyroger-writer​ @sherifemma​ @galaxyzxstark​ @galadriel26​ @idristardis​ @karenfrommisthaven​ @teamhook​ @spartanguard​ @searchingwardrobes​ @jamif​ @shireness-says​ @ultimiflos​ @nikkiemms​ @resident-of-storybrooke​ @onepunintendid​ @bluewildcatfanatic​ @superchocovian​ @killianswannn​ @carpedzem​ @captainkillianswanjones​ @mayquita​ @mariakov81​ @jennjenn615​ @onceuponaprincessworld​ @a-faekindagirl​ @scientificapricot​ @xellewoods​ @ultraluckycatnd​ @stahlop​ @kmomof4​ @tiganasummertree​ @singersdd​ @tornadoamy​ @cluttermind​ @lfh1226-linda​ @andiirivera​ @elizabeethan​ @captain-emmajones​ @csalltheway​ @itsfabianadocarmo​

[herohotline]

Bean Boy (Midoriya x You)

A/N: Future/Coffee Shop!AU where Midoriya is the number one hero getting coffee in your run of the mill cafe. 

Pairing: Izuku Midoriya x Reader

In modern society, heroes came in all shapes and colors and they were actually fairly common. How they came about is still a mystery- especially to you since you never studied the subject- but they were an everyday occurrence and common idol now. And, well, you were no hero. Just a barista in a family-owned shop. But, you’d argue, working in customer service was sort of a heroic act of its own. Maybe your hero name would be “Bean Boy” or something.

Scratch that, that was a terrible name.

Working in a coffee shop wasn’t all that bad. The fact that it was family-owned sort of made it better- you weren’t family but you may as well be at this point with how well you knew the staff and owners and how kind they were to you. It was definitely better than working at a chain or somewhere so busy that you'd never get time to relax.

Rush hour for your little shop ended about an hour ago- so it was right before noon. Even rush hour was pretty small, it wasn’t something that two workers couldn’t handle. Your co-worker, Aiko, actually just left for her lunch break, leaving you alone in the shop for now. You had been idly washing dishes and keeping things tidy when the distinct sound of the shop bell rang. It was either a customer or it was Aiko with her lunch and your drink you gave her money for.

(You hope for the latter- you’re sick of just drinking coffee and bubble tea when you're thirsty at work)

Looking up, it definitely wasn’t Aiko. Instead, it was a tall, beautiful man with unruly green locks and charming emerald eyes.

Looking down at his t-shirt, it reads “sweater”. You want to laugh. What sort of humor does this guy have?

“Welcome, sir. I’ll take your order when you’re ready.” You notice he’s staring at the menu and you don’t want to rush him, so you continue to work on things behind the counter once he gives you a small smile.

His smile is too cute.

The wait isn’t long until he tells you he’s ready to order and you’re not surprised- there’s not a lot on the menu to look at other than your lunch and snack options. You go toward the iPad on the counter and smile at him.

“Great! What can I get you?”

“A medium mocha and… you serve soba?”

You laugh. “Yes, surprisingly enough. I know it’s odd for a cafe, but you can really get creative if you’re a small shop.” You think for a moment before you add- “it’s only cold soba, though, so if you want it hot I can… microwave it?”

The green-haired wonder actually laughs- you can’t believe your weak joke made him laugh. He smiles so easily- so happily- you feel like you’re going to melt. “Cold soba is actually perfect. It’s how my friend prefers it.”

“Wonderful. I’m assuming this is a to-go order, then?”

“You’d be right.”

“Alright. That’s a total of 1,300 yen.”

He hands you the money, a little extra in his hand, and you quickly make the change and offer it to him before he stops you. “Keep it. For making me laugh.”

You blush. “Oh- thank you, sir!” You certainly won’t say no to a personal, nice tip. “You can sit anywhere you’d like- since I’m making a new batch of soba, it will be 10 or so minutes. I’ll bring out your drink first, of course,” you can’t believe how much you’re flustering around him. You’re so weak…  “Is that alright?”

“Absolutely.”

He takes his seat and you get to work. You brew the coffee first, as you said, and once you deliver it to him you quickly get to work on the noodles. The kitchen isn’t exactly private- the cute boy can easily see you as you work since there isn’t a separating wall from the dining area and the kitchen. The only thing that separates it is the small counter where the iPad and baked goods are at.

The television on the wall plays as you work, and it seems to have your customer's attention. Right now all that’s on is a news channel, and when you try to listen in, you think they’re talking about heroes. When are they not, though?

“What’s your opinion on heroes?” The customer asks you suddenly. You're surprised he’s making conversation- not a lot of them do. You hum as you strain the cold noodles.

“I think they’re great. I mean, who doesn’t? There’s the whole Stain group, but even those people like heroes. They just like different ideals for them, I guess.”

“That’s true,” he says. “Have you ever thought about being one?”

You laugh sarcastically. “Maybe when I was a kid. But when I grew up, I thought about the world a bit more realistically.” You start to put the meal in a to-go container- not forgetting the dipping sauce. “Being a hero is a dangerous job. It’s an uncertain job- you never really know what you’re gonna get. I guess I like a bit more stability. Plus, I’m working at a tiny cafe. I think you can tell I’m not very suited for celebrity life.”

You put the box together and place it on his table. “Your soba,” you say and smile at him. “Plus, sometimes I like to think I’m a special type of hero. I mean- Hero work is basically a fancy and glittery version of customer service. I’m halfway there if you think about it.” Oh god oh god shut your mouth.

He laughs again and you laugh along with him, your heart soaring. You like him- why wouldn’t you like someone who’s so cute and likes your jokes? “You’re right- thank you for the meal, hero! What’s your name?”

“Bean Boy,” You blurt without thinking and he laughs even louder, his head thrown back. Your cheeks burn as you frown. “What?! It’s catchy!” Oh god oh god OH GOD.

“It’s memorable, that’s for sure,” he stood from his seat, taking the coffee and noodles in his hand. “I’ll definitely remember you, Bean Boy.” The damn guy actually winks at you. You’re positively flushed by now, you know it.

He leaves the store after that, and while you’re reeling from the experience- your heart sinks an inch. You never got to catch his name.

Now you sort of wish you did work at a busier place that took names with orders.

—-

Eventually, he does come by again, this time with a familiar face beside him. Color you impressed, fucking Shoto the number 2 hero is in your cafe!

“I didn’t know you were a big shot who hung out with heroes!” You greet the familiar man with an impressed eyebrow. He grins.

Shoto looks surprised and looks down at his friend. They’re exchanging some sort of secret conversation in their eyes- what could it be?

They break it up quickly and Shoto approaches the counter with the nameless wonder. You notice that today, his white t-shirt reads "turtleneck". How many of these shirts does he have? “He really liked your soba and wanted to come here himself.”

“Really? I didn’t think our dish was that good…”

Shoto hums with a nod. “It was nice. I’d like to get it again.”

“Of course,” you take the order on the iPad. “Anything for you- uh,” god, you don’t know his name. “What is your name, anyway? It’s driving me nuts.”

He smiles and actually takes a second to think about his answer- you have a feeling he’s not going to give you his real name at all. “Midoriya.”

The now-named Midoriya snorts at the look Shoto gives him.

“Right. Anything for you, Midoriya?”

“I’d love another mocha, Bean Boy.”

“God.” You groan. “I hate you. That’s not my name.” You flash your name badge and he deliberately ignores it. You hate him. Groaning again, you give him the same price as before and he gives you the same amount- same tip.

Once you get to work, Shoto and Midoriya seat themselves at a table and the ice and fire user speaks. “I’m surprised they don’t know you.”

“I kind of love it.” Midoriya shrugs. “No special treatment. It’s nice.”

“To be fair, though… they didn't really react to me at all.”

“Yeah, true.” He speaks louder for you to hear. “You don’t really freak out around celebrities or heroes, do you?”

You answer from the kitchen. “Not really. I don’t want to be annoying and just say the same shit I know everyone has heard before.” You finish the drink and walk over to the two, setting it in front of your green-haired acquaintance. You look towards Shoto. “Unless you want me to grovel for you?”

Shoto snorts with a smile. “You were right. They are funny.”

“It’s my one redeeming quality,” you go back to the kitchen.

“So if that’s the case- why not tell them? It might be interesting to see if they’d get embarrassed or not,” Shoto whispers to his friend. Midoriya just shakes his head.

“Just wait.”

Soon enough, you come out with Shoto’s cold soba. He smiles brighter than you’ve ever seen him smile before as he thanks you genuinely and then digs in. You're about to ask if they want anything else before Midoriya speaks up.

“Huh. Would you look at that.” He’s pointing towards the television. Interest piqued, you take a look and don’t notice the eye roll Shoto makes at his friend across the table.

There, on the modest-sized TV on the wall, is the number one hero. He’s dressed in full costume- rabbit mask over his head. You don’t see anything special about it other than the fact that he saved a good amount of people again. “What?” You ask. “Is he your favorite or something?”

Shoto chokes on his noodles.

“Oh my god, are you alright?!”

Midoriya is grinning ear to ear. “He’s fine, just a little shocked. I am too- I mean, do you not like him?”

“I don’t not like him,” you continue to worriedly eye Shoto. He gives you a soft wave as he coughs to try as if to tell you, yes, he’s fine, but you’re not convinced. Why would he suddenly choke like that? “He is the number one hero, after all. I guess I’m just confused why he made his suit into a bunny.” You look back at the television screen. “Hey, since you’re Mr.Big Shot and you hang out with heroes, why don’t you tell him to get a fluffy tail? It’d pull the outfit together.” When you look back down at him, you're surprised.

Midoriya stares up at you with an emotion that’s akin to wonder. “I will absolutely do that for you,” he wheezes and you realize he’s shaking. Holding back laughter? You squint your eyes at him with a suspicious frown.

“...Thanks.”

——

You’re at home, lounging on the couch and watching the news with a cool drink in your hand when it happens. There’s an interview being held with Deku- someone you’ve been keeping an eye on since your request to Midoriya. There hasn’t been a costume update yet, and you haven’t seen the familiar mop of green hair since he and his friend left the cafe cackling. They were an odd pair, that's for sure.

“-I heard that you were thinking about a costume change, why is that?” Oh, fuck yes. You lean forward as you watch, the camera switching to Deku who’s been sitting down this entire time. Is- is it there…?

“Well, I was talking to a fellow hero I know, and they mentioned that getting the update might be beneficial. It’s not as much a fighting thing as it is an aesthetic choice. Would you like to see?”

“Oh- it’s already on?”

Deku grins from behind his mask. “Yes.”

And then he stands, turns around, and there it is. A fluffy, perfectly cute bunny tail. The camera pans up to Deku’s face and he winks. “This is for my favorite hero, Bean Boy.”

...oh my god. Oh my GOD.

You were so stupid! Midoriya was Deku! God- he was just- staring at you and waiting for you to make the connection but little did he know- you were an idiot. You can’t believe he actually got the tail?!

You quickly shut off the TV and curl into yourself, stewing in your embarrassment. If Midoriya was the kind of person you thought he was- he would definitely make an appearance at the shop tomorrow. He’s going to rub this in.

God, who knew that great hero Deku could be such a little shit?

——

You see him from the glass windows as he approaches the shop, confirming your suspicions. He’s here to rub it in. You grip the paper towel roll in your hand tighter.

The door opens and you throw with all your strength. Which isn’t a lot, but you’ve got good aim, and it hits him right on the head. “You’re a little shit, you know that?!” You yell and he immediately begins to giggle, throwing his arm over his head in defense. He grabs the towel roll with his free hand as he keeps laughing. “Stop laughing!” He doesn’t.

“I thought you’d figure it out the last time I came,” Midoriya lowers his arm once he realizes you aren’t going to throw anything else and he grins at you.

“And I can’t believe you told the whole world about Bean Boy. How dare you. Bean Boy is an undercover vigilante and you’ve ruined their career.”

“Have you seen the rumors?” He tosses the roll to you and you catch it easily with a loud groan.

“Of course I’ve seen the rumors. ‘Who is Bean Boy?’ ‘Deku’s secret affair with Bean Boy!’ It’s all I see on my phone.”

“You’re officially a hero! Your name is up there!”

“I told you I don’t want to be a hero,” you roll your eyes. Midoriya- if that was even his name- leans on the cashier counter and looks up at you with those gorgeous eyes of his. Sure, he's a little tease, but you can't deny how beautiful he is. Maybe that's why you didn't piece it together right away- you were to busy looking at Midoriya that you couldn't think about anyone else.

You don't know why you're attracted to someone who would wear a white tee that says "flannel shirt", but it is what it is.

“Then what do you want to be?”

You purse your lips. “I’m not looking for a sugar daddy if that’s what you’re implying- like a ‘make your wish come true if you ride me’ situation.”

A shocked laugh leaves him, his face tinging red as he smiles. You relax your shoulders a bit- because you were a little honestly worried that might be the case. Why was he talking to you still? You really don’t know. “Of course not. I just want to know more about you.”

“Why?”

“Come on, I thought you treated heroes like people,” he leans off the counter. “I think you’re interesting, like a person talking to another person. I want to know more about you.”

“Yeah, but you’re also a stranger,” you reason. “So there’s your reason for wariness. Plus, you’ve proved that you can be a dick- but whatever. I want to animate or something like it.”

His interest is piqued. “Yeah?”

“I just- want to contribute to animated movies. Be that storyboarding, or designing characters, or making the models- I want to make stories and help develop them. I’ve been drawing since I was a kid.”

“I actually drew a bit in middle school and high school,” Midoriya smiles. “I wasn’t very good. But it helped me with my hero studies.”

You hum. Abruptly, you change the subject. “So is Midoriya something people actually call you?”

He smiles. “Yes. It’s my family name.”

You can’t believe he actually gave you a bit of personal information. Whoever Midoriya is, he’s kind of a mystery. His actions are borderline unpredictable so far.

“Well, Midoriya. You want to be friends? I’ll bite. We can talk more when I’m not working, though. Plus, you don’t want to be talking to me and then have a customer come in and totally ogle you.”

“You’re right,” he nods. “When do you get off work tonight?”

You raise your eyebrows with a smirk. “Am I that interesting to you, Midoriya?”

His eyes sparkle as he grins. “Fascinating.”

Needless to say, you meet him that night at 6 o'clock.

[legendarypizzaalpaga]

Here are my thoughts on Frozen II

(and it’s going to be terribly long, I’m sorry)

Actually I don’t think anybody reads my articles (well, I might have written 3 in the past 5/ 6 years with like 4 years of inactivity so ahem) but I really need to share what I think about this movie.

I am a Hans fan AND a Helsa shipper. Or course I was disappointed by him not being in the movie, by knowing his useless appearance or all the punch in the face from the writers to Hans and Hans’ fans (that seem both to be hated by them for some reason? Even if we are part of Frozen fandom too?). Of course, I can’t totally enjoy it because of that, because it feels that there is something “missing”, because it really feels that we, Hans’ fans, are being made fun off by wanting him being redeemed. Disappointed, but not surprised, actually.

BUT you know what? I accepted it. I can deal with it. I can find all the Hans and Helsa content I want here, so even if I am genuinely sad that Hans doesn’t appear in the movie, I thought that I might be able to like the movie like everyone else. I was not waiting for it regarding all the spoilers I read, but after reading a lot of positive comments, even from other disappointed Hans’ fans, I changed my mind.

Believe it or not, I am not a hater, I wanted to like this movie. I wanted so badly to like this movie, I swear. But I didn’t, not only the end, but from the beginning to the end. I dislike it to a point I envy people who liked it because I felt so bad during the entire movie when I wanted to like it like the first one.

Long story short, I didn’t like Frozen I neither the first time I watched it. The only thing I liked was Hans, because he was handsome and a ginger (true story). I thought him turning a villain was stupid and terribly written. But after that, I was still thinking about it. I re watched it, started to like Elsa, Anna, started to ship Hanna and finally Helsa. I even started to like Hans being the villain, because his back story with him bullying by all his brothers was really interesting. Shipping Helsa made sense and after six years I’m still in. Frozen is a beautiful movie with very likable characters in their own ways.

But I still think Frozen I is not amazingly written. It has a lot of flaws, but every movie has, so I didn’t make a big deal of it. I waited six years for Frozen II, which can probably explain why I don’t like it to that point. I spent six years discussing Frozen and realizing that the writers’ idea of it is totally different of mine is quite weird, even if its is not their fault. Disney owe Frozen, not the fans, they can do anything they want with it. I hope in the future I’ll start to like Frozen II like I did for Frozen I, seeing its quality. I am not a negative person and I don’t want to hate or roast anything.

But I can’t help but think that Frozen II has a pretty terrible writing and a lot, A LOT of flaws, plot holes and things that made me wonder if the writers even watched their own first movie. Even fans have different points of views, but really, I just don’t get what the movie was trying to say.

Still, I want to start with all the things I appreciate in it, because a lot of persons worked on this movie and sometimes did a pretty amazing job.

The songs are amazing. I want to put this one first because, as someone who don’t like Disney’s songs (even as a kid), me liking the songs is pretty rare. All the lyrics are beautiful, “Show Yourself” is now my favorite Disney song of all time and I’m going to listen to it over and over for the next six years. Unpopular opinion but I liked Kristoff's song too, being very kitschy, but I think that was the point. And Panic at the Disco’s “Into the unknown” is the best, really.

The movie is beautiful. Do I need to say anything more than that? I like the autumn theme of the all movie, with a lot of beautiful images. Frozen I was already really beautiful but, whoa, this one is amazing.

The new characters are enjoyable. Especially the lieutenant Destin Mattias (I had to google his name...). I regret they don’t have a lot of importance in this sequel because they had a lot of potential. Elsamaren shippers, you know what I mean.

Some scenes are really emotional. Elsa and Anna’s separation, Elsa being about to cry in “Show Yourself” when she sees her mother, Olaf’s die, Anna’s “The Next Right Thing” and everything about her in the end of the movie.

Anna being the amazing person she is. I am a Helsa shipper but did I ever say how much I love Anna? Anna who saves the day, as she always does, Anna being so strong and doing the right thing, Anna’s becoming queen (again I know it’s not a really popular opinion but I love Anna being queen and I would DIE to see her having powers too). She was a way more relatable character in the all movie than Elsa in my opinion, unfortunately. The only time I get a little emotional in the movie was for her, and even before, I always thought that Anna was the true heroine of all the Frozen franchise.

Elsa’s being super powerful. I have to say I didn’t like it, for a lot of reason I’ll discuss later, but I understand why a lot of persons like it. In six years, Elsa became a symbol, of what can be seen as a weakness could actually be your strength. In that sense, the fact that she is so powerful, so sure about herself, can be a fantastic message, especially for young audience, and having Elsa (or Anna) as role model seems really positive to me.

Kristoff’s positive masculinity. The line “My love is not fragile”, just that. You’re a cool guy, Kristoff, I like you. You deserve a happy marriage. That being said, I had to continue with what I didn’t like. I have to say first that I watched this movie only once, not in my mother tongue, and I didn’t watch Frozen I since a long time go. So it might containes mistakes or things I simply forgot. I am sorry for that. Again I don’t want to roast this movie, and I am really happy if you liked it, I wish I had too, I don’t like to be that negative but I have to take this out of my mind. (I’m not going to discuss Hans’ not being in the movie, as I said I accepted it)

I’ll start with “minor problems” really subjective and finish with my biggest issues about this movie.

Olaf was never funny to me. Unpopular opinion again, I don’t appreciate Olaf, I barely think him being a bit funny in the first movie, but in this one... I didn’t even smile once, except maybe with him explaining Frozen I’s Plot, but that was an easy one. His song is the only one I totally dislike and all his “I’ll understand when I grow up” well... I didn’t get it. When he admits he is angry at Elsa is the moment that made me him like him a little more. But, yeah, no, Olaf is not my cup of tea.

It’s the first time in my life I think animated characters are bad at acting. I am sorry but some lines where... like... I don’t know. The one I have in mind is especially when Kristoff is trying to propose once again and talks about “being crazy” and Anna responds with “Do you think I’m crazy??” with crazy eyes like... she NEVER acts like that! It seems like the animators wanted so badly to show how many facial expression the were capable of that they wrote those weird lines where the character changes their expression in a couple of seconds. The same goes with all the times the characters talk to themselves so the audience can understand what’s happening (ok it’s a kid’s movie but they’re not stupid...). Sometimes it made sense but sometimes it was just like a Korean drama, really (I love Korean drama but that’s not a compliment). I think it’s more a problem of writing, but sometimes it just made me feels that I was watching bad actors, that was so weird.

All the “water has memory” stuff. I am sorry but it doesn’t make sense, even a little. I know it’s a movie and I shouldn’t care, but the boat scene just killed me. Elsa has ICE powers, not WATER (I know ice is from water but if it’s the same, why is there a water spirit while Elsa is the fifth one?), so HOW DOES THAT WORK? HOW? EXPLAIN, MOVIE, PLEASE. Elsa can take water in everything (wind, earth, boat) and can create “memory” because it’s made of ice? Is that her special ability that nobody else has? But the water spirit also have a form of an horse so you can create things with water too? I don’t get it, not at all, sorry, I just don’t. It’s just lazy writing, in my opinion. It shouldn’t be a big deal, but that fact that it is used at EVERY single moment of the movie made me cringe, especially because of the next problem I have:

The characters understand everything too fast. All the “water has memory” bullshit is an easy way to allows that. The fact that the sisters immediately recognized their young father is a thing, but just by seeing a scarf they immediately understand that their mother is from here? Ok, why not. But Anna, just by seeing a sculpture of her grandfather trying to kill someone, she immediately understands that the dam was a trap???? HOW DID YOU MANAGE TO GET THAT? It could have been BILLIONS of reasons to her grandfather to kill the chef of the tribute, like conquer their forest, stealing their stuff or whatever. How does she know that the dam was a trap when it could have been a real sign of peace but then their grandfather becoming a douche after that? Again, it’s so lazy writing. Just by the tribe explaining to her that the dam was bad for them, but Anna continue to believe her grandfather was good, before understanding by the statue he was not could have been ENOUGH. And again, HOW does she know that breaking the dam is going to solve everything? Because the tribe lives with the nature, so what’s again the tribe is against the nature, so the spirits are mad, so they blocked the forest, but still what does that have to do with the damn fifth spirit? I don’t get this movie.

Elsa’s earning spirit’s friendship by fighting them. This one really made me wondering if I was watching the same movie as everybody. The spirits seem to be positive figure, because they represent nature. They don’t want intruders, so they attacked the group... why did they suddenly started to like and help Elsa when all she does is fighting them? Because they understand that she is like them? Because she is too powerfull, they finally decide to help her? What made them change their mind? If the writers tried to do something like Moana, well... that was better done in Moana, because she failed when she tried to attack but succeed when she decides not to, because you can’t fight nature, that’s the message. Again, I don’t get what this movie is trying to do. (oh and I especially hate the scene with the water horse, just by jumping on a horse doesn’t mean it suddenly loves you being there...)

The fifth spirit. Do I need to say anything else? All the fifth spirit stuff didn’t make sense and was totally useless in a movie that could have worked without. Honeymaren saying to Elsa that she belongs to the forest was... like... you BARELY know her, how do you know that? It was like they needed to have a reason to make her stay in the forest and “be free”? When she could just have given the crown to Anna that deserves it and being free... with her family? (her REAL family she needs not her mother’s tribe...)

Elsa and Anna abandoning their kingdom for the second time in two movies. Ok you did it to save Arendelle but, still. And after that people still complain about Hans not being a good leader? Again, not a big deal, but my girls... don’t do that often please.

Elsa’s journey. That’s a big no no for me. Did the writers of this movie watched the first one? Because she just seemed like a totally different character to me. I understand she grew up, and I could have accept that she wanted to be free, that it was her journey. But, again, it was not brightly written. In like the five first minutes of the movie, we are introduced to Elsa hearing voices and... that’s it. She hears voice. If it was supposed to be symbolic or her wanting to go for an adventure instead of having a boring like in Arendelle, well, that was absolutely not necessary. Why didn’t they show her not enjoying her life? Like doing queen’s tasks she doesn’t enjoy, talking to people that continue to judge her for her powers, showing that Anna is naturally a better leader than her. It could have been very interesting that even being that powerful, she still has flaws, visible flaws. The only thing we see is her life with her family, but if the message of the movie was that the sisters have to learn how to live separately, again it wasn’t clear AT ALL. And thinking that the message of the first movie was that love from your family can save you, it’s a quite weird message for a sequel in my opinion.

At the end of the movie she is supposed to be free... free from what? By not accepting herself? While we see her being so confident about herself during the ENTIRE movie (yeah she “died” at one moment but it just made her realize that Anna is strong enough to help her to, which is totally different from accepting her own flaws). She finally found the place she belongs... again... a forest? Because her mother come from here? ??? I don’t get this movie.

And finally... my biggest problem... the HUGE issue I have with this movie. The only thing I just can’t ignore. The thing that made me cringe to HARD during the ENTIRE MOVIE.

Why is nobody discussing Elsa’s parents attitude during the first movie?

DID THE WRITERS WATCH THEIR OWN DAWN FIRST MOVIE??? DID THEY?

Don’t get me wrong, I do think Elsa’s parents loved her. I do think they thought they were doing the right things for her and their other daughter. I do think they had the best intentions. I do things parents with good intentions can f*ck up their kids so badly it will follow them forever (well, not forever in the case of Elsa, because she is perfectly fine now as if the first movie never existed... mental health, not a big issue).

BUT WHAT THEY DID TO HER WAS WRONG.

To be honest I would have LOVED if Elsa’s arc was about understand and finally forgive her parents about what they did to her. It would even have made sense with her grandfather being a douch, convincing his son that magic is dangerous. It’s normal that Elsa and Anna love their parents, I mean, just because your parents did something wrong doesn’t mean that you won’t love them anymore. But all the “Let it go” song was about not listening to her restrictive parents anymore!! They erase her from her beloved sister’s memory and caused her terrible anxious issue that was basically THE PLOT OF THE FIRST MOVIE.

Elsa’s parents f*cked up EVERYTHING and you can’t change my mind. The fact that this is NEVER, not A SINGLE TIME, discussed in the entire movie was unbearable for me. And worst, the fact that they are shown as heroes really disturbed me. Again, I would not mind if this was the consequence of an all “redemption” arc for them, by Elsa finally understand her parents, why they wanted to restrict her true self (the f*cking thing she is singing about in “Show Yourself” with her MOTHER, yeah movie, that makes totally sense), why they thought it was the right thing to do when it wasn’t. Iduna’s being the voice Elsa hears could have been her wanting her daughter’s forgiveness and encouraging her to be 100% herself after years saying her not to be. But no.

The worst for me was the boat scene. So Elsa’s parents are the true heroes of the story, for some reason, AND they died because they wanted to help Elsa ? I swear, when Elsa started to feel guilty of their death I wanted to leave the theater so bad. AGAIN, if she had discovered that after an all movie being mad at them for restraining her true self for so long, it would have made sense. It could have help her understand that they did love her too, that they did wrong but wanted to help her in the end. Elsa could have grown from the bitterness of the past, and her thinking that she is so powerful she could do everything could have been her way of emancipation from her parents, when she finally learns that she still needs her sister's help.

This is all I see with Frozen II: a lost opportunity. A lost opportunity to have a better journey for Elsa, than just... being powerful, always powerful, being saved by her sister again and becoming a god-like powerful after that. A lost opportunity to show that good parents can be wrong thinking they are doing what’s right for their children. A lost of opportunity to show a character who wants to break free, not from something not even explicitly shown in the movie, but from the regrets of the past that we can all understand (because it was IN THE FIRST DAMN MOVIE).

A lost opportunity of a good sequel. Maybe Frozen II is a good movie, I don’t know, but it’s a really weird sequel in my opinion. The story makes no sense, the characters have really strange evolution, and some message are questionable. Again, I am really happy for you if you like it, and I even envy you for that. Waiting six years for a movie you almost wanted to leave the theater at, that’s harsh. I thought I was only going to be disappointed at Hans’ missing, but with all the plot holes and the weirdness of the story, I’m not even sure it would have been better with him anyway. Maybe you did dodge a bullet here, Hans...

So... fandom team. Whenever you liked the movie or not, like me, please let’s create some cool content. That’s what fandoms are made for and made off. I don’t want to leave the Frozen fandom, because I still like a lot of things about it. I am just sad this sequel was not worth the patience for me. I hope I didn’t make any Frozen II fans feel bad because of this post. I just wanted to share my thoughts. It took me hours but I needed to.

Now all I can say is: disappointed, but not surprised.

[musicalmontgomery]

Letters

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings: angst, swearing, brief mentions of billy’s abuse 

Pairing: billy hargrove x reader

on the day Billy Hargrove leaves his small town of Coastalside, California for Hawkins, he makes fast friends with y/n, promising to write her while he’s away

loosely based on ‘Travelin’ Soldier’ by Dixie Chicks // there will be more parts!

The bell on the diner door rang as the newest customer entered into the french fry aroma of the mom and pop restaurant. You kept up with your sidework, polishing the cutlery and folding it into napkins while the patron got sat into one of the red and yellow leather booths.

The day dragged on just like every other as the minute hand schlepped around the seashell clock hanging above the bar. This was only supposed to be a summer job, taking orders and serving burgers for the locals while the tourists stuck to the patios along the beach. But here you were as September was coming to its close, still trying to get the water stains from the damn dishwasher out of these knives.

After allowing the customer a moment with the menu, you finally turned around to see him sitting there. In all his glowing glory, was Billy Hargrove. The king of Coastalside, California. Grabbing your pad and pen, you sauntered over to the small booth he sat in. For the first time in all the time you’d seen him around town, he looked small. The tall seat towered over him and it reminded you of a child pretending to be a grown-up.

“Good morning, can I get you started off with something to drink?” You politely asked, carefully avoiding eye contact.

“Just, uh, a-a coffee please,” Billy stumbled. You looked up from your pad where you had scribbled ‘coffee’ in loopy handwriting. A single bead of sweat on his upper lip could have easily been attributed to the sweltering Californian heat that lasted into late fall, but the anxiety written on his face told another story.

“Yeah, no problem. Any food or just the coffee for now?” Your eyes finally meeting his, you felt your heart break a little. The once bright blue that shone like the sun in the sky seemed a muted tone as they watered.

You gave a little smile as he took a moment to collect himself to spit out any words.

“Just the coffee, thanks. But hey, can I ask you something?” His eyes still boring into yours pleaded for you. You gave him a quick nod and smiled a little bigger. “Would you mind sitting down for a while? I could use someone to talk to, and you look like a good listener.”

You softly laughed, wondering where in yourself he saw that. You’d only gone to the same small schools together all your lives, but now, he sees it. Nonetheless, you accepted the compliment.

“Thanks. I actually have some extra work to finish up, but I’m off in an hour if you’re not in a hurry. I know somewhere we can go.” You tugged on the bow holding your ponytail, tightening it.

His face lightening up, he finally gave you a smile and took you up on the offer.

For the next hour, Billy waited patiently and watched as you finished up the polishing and served your other tables. Every time your eyes caught each other’s, you could see him delicately smile, and his tense shoulders visibly dropped as he seemed to remember how to breathe again.

Wondering why he seemed so distressed, you recalled hearing around the hallways that the king of Coastalside was leaving his kingdom. You hadn’t heard where exactly, but you knew it was somewhere in the Midwest. No matter where, there was surely no ocean for a nearly professional surfer like him. The demeanour suddenly made sense and you really felt for him.

Finally, noon hit and your shift was over. You gave Billy a nod as you disappeared into the back to discard your apron in favour of your purse. When you got back to his table, he was pulling out his wallet for the three coffees he’d consumed in the hour he waited for you.

“Don’t worry about that,” denying the cash he was trying to hand you. “It’s on the house.”

“Thanks. Where to?” You and Billy headed out the door, the bell ringing out behind you.

“The pier? It’ll be too hot for the tourists today, so we should be relatively alone.”

True to your assumptions, the pier and beach were nearly entirely vacated save for a few locals and truly brave visitors. The ride over was quiet but comfortable. You’d always wondered what it would be like to be one of the girls in Billy’s Camaro only to be moderately disappointed. There was less of a magical excitement than you imagined you’d feel, but you were also not riding around in the same pretext they did.

The two of you walked along the wooden boards, neither saying a word until you reached the end and sat on a bench there. The brilliant noon sun hung right above you, making you glad you’d carried your sunglasses along today. Billy, too, wore his you realized as turned over to look at. As if on a cue, a small tear gentled rolled out from underneath the shades.

“I’m sorry. This was dumb, I don’t know why I asked you here.” His voice cracked, and his shoulders shook. Your hands quickly reached up to his cheeks to wipe away the quickly fleeting stream of saltwater.

“No, no. Don’t apologize.” You didn’t know what to say or how to help him here. Though you’d known Billy most of your life, it was only distantly. You wanted just to make everything better, but you didn’t know how.

After a minute or two of just sobbing and weeping, Billy’s tears came to slow and eventually stop.

“I’m leaving today.” Finally, he broke the silence.

Still not knowing what to say, you offered a simple “I know.”

“I’m leaving my entire life here to go off to hell. Hawkins the Hellhole, Indiana in the county of Bum-Fuck-Nowhere. I’m gonna die out there, Y/N. There’s no way I can survive that long away from all of this.” He held his hands up as he turned around to the town behind you, gesturing at everything it was and stood for.

“What are you gonna miss most? Maybe it’ll help to talk about it and figure out how to get a sense of that out there.” You were just talking out of your ass now, unsure of what you were even saying.

“The waves and surfing. I was so close to a sponsorship too. By the end of the season, it would have been mine. I’m gonna miss the people. My neighbours, the Watsons, real sweethearts. They brought over a cake that Mrs. Watson made for me a couple of days ago. It was a birthday/going-away thing-“ He was quickly cut off by your interruption.

“It was your birthday?!” You asked incredulously.

“Yeah, I just turned 18 the other day,” he said shyly.

“Happy belated birthday! Okay, carry on.”

Billy laughed and continued on with his list.

“I’m gonna miss making fun of the tourists. Miss driving the Camaro on the rocky coastline. Miss the salty air. But one thing I sure as hell am not missing is Stella’s Diner. Those chunks of charcoal you guys call burgers are awful!” He laughed, sniffling slightly. “It has its redeeming qualities, though. The coffee, the fries, you.”

Holding a hand to your chest over your heart, you smiled as he looked down at you.

“God! I’m 18 years old! I’m old enough to go off to war and get shot, but I can’t even decide where I want to be.” Billy frustratedly ran his hands through his hair, combing through the mullet of thick curls.

“Indiana won’t be as bad as a warzone, at least,” you said, trying to find a positive in this.

“Indiana is a warzone for me! You don’t know what my dad is like.” You’d seen the black eyes, the cuts. The Billy you knew didn’t fight and the injuries finally made sense.

“You’re gonna be okay, soldier.” Billy chuckled at the nickname.

Resting his back on the bench again, you looked at him in silence. His signature half-buttoned shirt exposed the glowing tan on his muscular chest. Tensed from experience but relaxed in this moment, he looked comfortable to just be here.

“I don’t have anyone out there, Y/N. Susan and Max don’t give a shit, Dad is an ass, Mom is long gone. Don’t really have anyone back here now. It’s just me.”

“You got me.” You reached your hand over to his and held it.

“Yeah. Can I send you letters, maybe? I’ve got no one else to send ‘em to.”

Your heart swelled at the sentiment. You’d never pegged Billy to be an old fashioned, letter-writing romantic.

You told him you’d love that and pulled your notepad and pen from work, his order still on the top page. Below where you had written ‘coffee’ earlier, you scrawled your home address that he could send to. You tore the page off, and he tucked it into his wallet for safe-keeping.

The two of you sat and stared at the ocean, outstretched before you for a while. Billy soaked it all in, fearing it may be the last chance to see it before he leaves. The quiet between you, while mostly comfortable, was missing something.

You reached up to the back of your neck and gripped the clasp of your necklace, undoing it. You brought it into his hands, folding them around it.

“You got me here. I’ll be there with you, even when you can’t write.”

His eyes buried behind his sunglasses blurred with tears again as he opened his hands to see the necklace. A simple silver chain held a delicate pendant of the Virgin Mary. Ever so carefully, he placed it around his own neck. Thumbing the pendant, he looked back to you.

He was unable to get words out, but you could see how appreciative he was for this gift.

With one last good glance at the vast expanse of water before him, he began to get up.

“It’s time for me to ship out. I’ll drive you home.”

With a town as small as Coastalside, it only took a few minutes to get from the pier to your house. It wasn’t nearly enough time with him. As he parked the Camaro, you turned into him and softly smiled. One of Billy’s hands came off the steering wheel to gently grasp the side of your face. Pulling you into himself, your lips collided like waves crashing at the shore. The sheer intensity lit a fire in your ribs, and you sighed into the feeling. Like a delicate dance, your mouth moved with his in a choreography you didn’t know you knew. As your lungs burned for air, you separated from him but he maintained his soft grip on your jaw.

“I can’t believe I waited this long to do that,” Billy gasped through his swollen lips. “And now, I have to go.”

You pressed your lips together as if to permanently seal the feeling of his into them. Once both of your breaths were caught, moments soaked in, excitement inside you dying down, you reached for your door handle. He returned his hand to the wheel.

Now exited from the vehicle, you smiled down at him in the driver’s seat.

“See ya, soldier.” You called his new nickname while closing your passenger door. Without looking back, for fear of crying if you had to see him again, you walked inside. Once you shut the door, you leaned against it, the sobs finally making their way out. Years of loving him longingly and you finally had your chance. Only to have it ripped away by fate. Your heart ached for what could have been, what you only got a taste of as you carried yourself to your bedroom.

-

The first letter came a few weeks later.

Dear Y/N,

I was right about it being ‘Hawkins the Hellhole.’ The town is bigger than Coastalside, but somehow there’s still nothing to do for fun. It’s so cold here and it’s only October. The lake is just a puddle of brown sludge and it has nothing on my crystal blue ocean. I miss it.

I miss you. I know I should have told you a long time ago, but I’ve really liked you for years. I was a jerk of kid, I know. Even more of an ass when we grew up. An arrogant little shit. But you still showed me kindness. Like you knew something about me that I didn’t know about myself. I hope that’s how you feel anyway. I don’t know if I love you. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt that. But I think this might be it.

Write me soon. Your Virgin Mary and I are looking forward to hearing from you, no matter if you feel the same way or not.

Lovingly,

Your soldier, Billy

You laid in bed, reading and re-reading the letter for hours. It was as if your mind was unable to process the words he had very clearly laid out for you.

“I think this might be it.” No way. No way was the king of Coastalside thinking this might be love that he was feeling for you. It all felt too surreal.

“Hey, hon,” your mother leaned against the frame of your open door. “You gonna be joining us for dinner?”

Without looking up from the page, you replied with a simple “no.”

“Who’s the letter from?” she asked.

“Billy,” your eyes continued to keep their focus on the sheet of paper.

“Hargrove? I heard he moved away.” Of course, she did. Coastalside was so small that everyone knew. “I didn’t know you were that close.”

“We weren’t really until he left.”

“Maybe it’s better that he did, you know? He was such a rough kid, and you don’t get mixed up in that. I think this is a good chance to cut your losses and you’re so young. There’ll be more guys.”

Saying nothing, you dropped the paper onto your nightstand and rolled over to face away from her. She took the hint and left, closing the door on her way out.

‘She’s wrong,’ you thought. Billy is so much more than she thinks he is. He was sweet and kind. When he wanted to be, anyway. Other times, he was an ass who beat up anyone who looked at him the wrong way.

No matter what her mother thought, you knew in your heart that you felt the same way as he confessed in his letter.

You refolded the letter and tucked it back into its envelope. You pulled a fresh sheet out of your desk drawer and wrote.

[its-chelisey-stuff]

EY Episode 11 (21-22) reactions and thoughts

Wow. What an episode. I’m a bit sad that some of the adorable fluff, the blissful ignorance and the flirting between Haru and Danoh kinda finished and gave way to this mass of feels (ugh!! So.Many.Feels) and heartache but we’ve been asking for answers for weeks now and we finally got some.

I gotta say that the star of this episode was definitely Haru (and those acting skills by Rowoon that continue to amaze me).  Baek Kyung might be smart for putting the clues (and pieces of the Flower manhwa) together, but Haru is the  one getting the memories slowly and painfully. In earlier episodes he was just confused about the flashbacks but this week he finally understood what they meant and now gets the idea that something pretty ugly went down in the past, especially with Danoh.

Some interesting bits of the episode:

We got another version of the kiss scene *fans herself* how awesome is that? It was still the same camera work but different music. I’ll take it, because I have this suspicion that we might not get another kiss scene. I know, I know, it’s sad. But it’s still technically a high school drama and we got pretty lucky with that kiss already. Still, fingers crossed.

Ugh. I felt a bit bad for Baek Kyung this episode, but I’m also angry at the drama writers for making him a love martyr of some kind. Also, he had that moment at the cementery with Danoh, alone, without Haru; he totally had the chance to be human and vulnerable with her and confess or apologize. He did nOTHING! And I really can’t feel bad because of that. He had a chance. He just chose not to take it. Here’s more of what I think of him as a character.

Past Baek Kyung is a a bad bad bad namja. He is also a piece of sh*t. And that’s all that you need to know about him, pretty much. No redeeming qualities I suspect, in contrast with his present self.

Flower!Haru is a murderer, huh? Not really a shock, because we knew he was Kyung’s lackey (and like I said, he bad) but then I kinda of gasped loudly when I saw that scene. Still, that’s his character and we know the true Haru would never behave like that. He pretty much started rebelling against Kyung and changed the stage once he became self aware. Sadly, we know that that story ended tragically. I just wish that present Haru is able to forgive himself.

Danoh, my girl. I really hate to say it, because just last week I wrote a whole essay defending her. And I’m not taking back my words, but she really is in the dark right now and that makes me a bit frustrated, even more so when I realised it and didn’t even mind because I was in too deep with Haru’s story. The drama kicked in with her at the wheel, but she has taken a step back and Haru took that spot. I’m not mad because I think this is where the show wanted to go and I believe we will go back to Danoh being at the center, however I think we might still have to wait.

Ah. Haru. Love him to pieces. Let me just say that I knew the show was going to shift the focus a bit towards him because, well, you don’t spend a whole week without seeing the male lead’s face and then one more to fully introduce him and give him a personality if you don’t want to make it clear that he’s that important. And he freaking can change the stage! and has been said time and time again that he is the only one who can do it. Also, in some interview Rowoon said that he met the director 4-5 times for auditions. Clearly, the people who make this drama took this role very seriously.

Not enough Dohwa this episode, which is a crime. But he made his scenes count every second. 

Am I the only one thinking that the new girl is the manhwa’s writer attempt to give Dohwa another romantic interest? She is clearly inmportant and Haru remembers her and they even gave her a name. Yikes, things with Squid fairy could get ugly. 

Also, for the love of God, how long are we gonna keep pretending that Juda isn’t self aware? I need her to do something, whatever (be angry at someone, have a breakdown, just snap!) so that our already self aware characters realize that she is indeed awake. Hurricane Juda needs to happen.

I was hoping Namjoo was gonna wake up, but as each day episode passes, I think that becomes more unlikely and it’s only a bit dissapointing but most of all funny. This crazy world exists and he has no idea what goes around him. And maybe never will.

Namjoo’s mom was Squid Fairy’s mom in the freaking Flower!! WHAT?!

I know Squid Fairy is scared and has seen too many stories and truly to be cursed with knowledge is the worse. That has made him the way he is, but the only way I’m gonna forgive him for not telling the whole story is if it gets proven in the end that him telling it wouldn’t have changed things or helped in any way. Which I doubt.

LMAO. Who knew I had this much to talk about the episode? Took me by surprise, so I salute you if you stuck till the end of my rant. We still have another episode this week, so maybe some of my frustrations and theories will prove to be non existent... or right. ;)

[notbang]

that cat’s something i can’t explain

read on ao3

1.

“Rebecca,” Nathaniel says in surprise when he spots his girlfriend weaving through the Mountaintop lobby, flour-dusted apron and all, making a very determined beeline in his general direction. “What’s going on?”

As soon as he says the words, he expects her haughtiness—an affronted why can’t a humble pretzel maker visit her lawyer lover on the top floor, perhaps, or something equally colourful. The closer she gets, though, he can see she’s vibrating with something other than deliberately cloying indignation.

“What’s going on,” she says emphatically, dropping her phone on the front desk with enough force that its momentum slides it towards him, “is that if I had to be subjected to this monstrosity, then so you do you.”

He stops the phone before it can ricochet off the edge of the counter, eyebrows raised as he unlocks the screen.

“Now that we know a love of the theatrical arts is something which we both share—”

“Wouldn’t say ‘love’,” Nathaniel interjects.

“—we can have these very important cultural discussions together.”

He makes it approximately twenty seconds into the video before he turns it off.

This isn’t the first time he’s found himself completely miffed by one of Rebecca’s outbursts, but even in his bemusement it’d be disingenuous of him to paint it as one of her qualities he considers skewed towards the negative. There’s always been something so captivating in the way her feelings tend to command the entirety of her tiny frame, expressing endlessly outwards, always making her seem so much more than what she is.

Still, he’s at a loss for what to offer her in return for her obvious discontent, and he settles for stating the obvious, well aware she’ll hand him precisely the response she was looking for soon enough.

“Don’t see it?” he offers, tone tentative and polite.

Predictably, she scoffs at him, jabbing two accusing pointer fingers in his direction. “Ha. Don’t see it. I wasn’t planning on it, was I? But then they had to go and make it terrible, which is how they reel you in! And not just plain old terrible, either—it’s, like, the uncanny valley, haunt-your-dreams kind of terrible that cancels out how terrible the source material already is, because that’s how negative integers work, for some reason, and now it’s like this… furry train wreck I can’t look away from,” she finishes, gesticulating wildly and scrunching up her hands into frustrated little cat claws.

“Did Nathaniel finally admit he’s a furry?” Maya whispers with conspiratorial glee, popping up unannounced on Rebecca’s immediate left.

“Ugh, Maya, go away,” she groans.

“You don’t work here anymore—you can’t just boss people around,” Nathaniel says, before straightening his shoulders and adding pointedly, “Maya, go away. Please.”

Rebecca raises her eyebrows as the office assistant pushes her glasses up her nose, pouts and scampers away. She leans across the desk to give him a blatant up-and-down. “Wow, look at you—dolling out pleases like you’re Oprah or something. So cordial, yet commanding. It’s kind of sexy, in a Miss Manners kind of way.”

“Don’t you have a storefront you should be manning?”

“I’d be able to hear the fire alarm from here,” she defends, then pushes up on her tip-toes to plant a kiss on his right cheek. Nathaniel pauses in his photocopying, ears pinking, then reciprocates with a brief press of his open palm to the small of her back.

He clears his throat. “I’ll see you at lunch,” he calls after her, but he’s certain she doesn’t hear him, already having summoned Maya back, strangely intent on correcting her opinions on something involving, if he’s heard correctly, Taylor Swift.

2.

When he makes his way down the hall back to her bedroom, still towelling his hair, there’s a message notification waiting on his phone from Rebecca.

“What is this?” he asks, waving his screen at her.

She doesn’t even glance up from the novel she’s reading, a stray lock of her hair looping around her finger in an absent spiral. He watches the movement for a moment, transfixed, until she disengages the curl to flick the page over and finally responds. “It’s Hermione after she messes up her Polyjuice potion in Chamber of Secrets. Obviously.”

“Okay.” Then, after a beat, “Why am I looking at it?”

“Because Paula doesn’t understand musicals or Harry Potter or memes, so it had to go to you by default.”

“Do you understand memes?”

“Plus,” she says, ignoring him, “you’re, like, romantically obligated to find every message I send you entertaining.”

He plugs his phone into charge before joining her on the bed, shuffling as high up on the pillows as he can manage to keep his toes from skimming the end of the mattress when he stretches out. It’s not entirely successful, but if he bends at the knees a little and curls on his side, he knows from past experience he can make it work.

“Am I, just. Even the ones composed entirely of emojis?”

She grins. “Especially the ones composed entirely of emojis.”

Rebecca ditches her paperback in favour of wriggling into his warmth, murmuring her contentment when he slips an arm around her waist to draw her close and drop a chaste kiss onto the crown of her head. Her hair’s still damp and smells vaguely floral, like her shampoo, and he lets his lips linger there, breathing her in.

His phone vibrates twice on the nightstand.

When pulls back to peer down his nose at her, she’s not-so-subtle in her attempt to conceal what she’s cradling innocently between their chests. He sighs, feigning exasperation. “You just sent me a cat emoji, didn’t you?”

“I absolutely did not,” she says solemnly, then, dissolving into laughter under his scrutiny, confesses, “It was more like five. And I think maybe a llama by mistake?”

3.

“It’s like they didn’t even try,” Rebecca announces loudly in the vicinity of Nathaniel’s ear, rudely jerking him back from the precipice of sleep.

“Oh good,” he sighs, blinking his eyebrows higher up his forehead in the darkness. “This again.”

He grunts out his disapproval as the bedside lamp clicks back on, casting half the apartment in dramatic shadow as it burns his retinas with its unexpected blinding light.

“And I’m just saying,” Rebecca continues, oblivious or in the very least unconcerned with his state of obvious discomfort, apparently immune to any such adjustment period of her own, “did anyone consult TS Eliot before reinventing his heartfelt poetry as a vaginal yeast infection in musical form?”

Nathaniel’s nose wrinkles to match the pre-existing scrunch of his face. “What?”

“Never mind, it was a whole a thing. My point is, no film is an island unto itself. People signed off on this. Multiple people looked at those designs and said, you know what’s gonna add a layer of appeal to a musical that already has no plot? Stripping it of its one redeeming feature—AKA the crazy 80s hair—and replacing it with horrifying, humanoid heads that somehow manage to look furry and bald at the same time.”

Even if Nathaniel felt remotely qualified to comment on the topic—which, for the record, oddly flattered though he is at Rebecca’s pervasive belief that he might be, he decidedly is not—it’s late, it’s a weeknight, and he really just wants to sleep.

“If you hate it so much, rewrite it,” he says before pointedly rolling away from her with a yawn and yanking the covers up over his shoulders.

She follows him, flicking him hard in the back of the neck where his nape’s still exposed above the blanket. “Not cute, dude. You don’t get points for that one anymore. And you can’t ‘rewrite’ CGI. Even if you could, a thousand rewrites isn’t gonna change the eyesore that I—nay, humankind—have been subjected to.”

Nathaniel buries his face in the pillow and groans something that resembles her name before it gets jumbled in its muffled pass through the cotton.

“Rebecca,” he says once he’s resurfaced, trying again, tone still undeniably clipped as he scrubs a palm across his face. “I have a deposition first thing tomorrow. Do we really need to have this conversation now?”

She wilts visibly, chagrined, eyes flicking to the clock at his bedside that may as well have ABSURDLY LATE splashed across its interface in red LEDs. “Sorry,” she says meekly, officially rebuked, sinking back into the sheets and switching off the lamp.

The room is blissfully silent save for the collective electronic hum of his appliances, but despite the stillness, Nathaniel finds himself unable to drift back off. Without opening his eyes he pats around beside him until his fingers connect with the phone he’d known with every fibre of his being she was still holding, confiscating and discarding on his nightstand, out of reach.

“Go to sleep,” he admonishes.

“I was just—”

“Sleep,” he repeats, voice gruff with exhaustion, enfolding her firmly in his arms as a preventative measure, practically able to hear her calculating the device’s retrieval in the dark.

4.

“What are we dealing with, here? Minor song lyric alteration? Beloved song exclusion? Reinforced misogyny? Racially insensitive miscast?”

Nathaniel startles at the sound of the door opening, Paula spilling into Rebecca’s house like she lives there and depositing her bags in the entryway with a dramatic thud.

Rebecca, by comparison, is unperturbed by the intrusion, swivelling on a breakfast stool to look at her friend and shake her head. “We’re not talking misdemeanours here, Paula. We’re talking big league. Like, DEFCON-5.”

“Oh,” Paula says. She clucks in feigned sympathy and shoots a knowing glance in Nathaniel’s direction. “This is about the singing cats, huh.”

Even focused as he is on rinsing out her blender, he doesn’t miss the way Rebecca shrinks guiltily away from him in his periphery.

“Did you call an early morning emergency meeting of your girl mob to discuss a movie trailer you didn’t like?” he asks, careful to keep his tone light.

“It’s gurl group, but you know that, and no—Valencia is in town for her sister’s birthday and Heather’s working at this Home Base today and Paula’s new job means she has to like, actually do work now, so breakfast is the only time all of us were free.”

As if on cue, Heather and Valencia sidle through the open doorway.

“Oh, he’s here?” Heather drawls with an exaggerated grimace when she spots Nathaniel. “Looks like you’ve already found someone to rant about your dumb movie to, so I’m gonna just—”

Her attempt to pivot on the spot and leave is thwarted by the arm Valencia loops through her own, catching her before she can re-cross the threshold.

Nathaniel wastes no time in whipping his head around to aim an aha look in Rebecca’s direction, and she’s just as quick to defend, “Yeah, okay, so it’s on the agenda. Amongst other things.”

“Is that so. Like what?”

“Like… topics I don’t know about yet because nobody ever responds to my requests to send me their items for the agenda.”

“God, no more agendas,” Paula grouches, reaching for a mug from the overhead cabinet. “Or meetings. My entire life is meetings and agendas and scheduling conflicts. Can’t we just have a good old fashioned rendezvous? I feel like nobody ever rendezvouses anymore.”

“Ooh, or how about a tryst,” Rebecca suggests, waggling her eyebrows.

“Girl, you know I love you,” Valencia says, “but I’m not trysting with you. I have a fiancée.”

Heather hums, drumming her fingers against the countertop as she hoists herself up onto a stool. “So full disclosure, Hector and I saw the Cats revival with his mom last year, and I liked it. I think the lack of plot worked in Hector’s favour.”

“There’s no accounting for taste,” Rebecca says, wistful.

“You liked The Lion King,” Nathaniel feels obligated to point out. “That’s technically about digitally rendered singing cats.”

“I tolerated The Lion King because of my deep fondness of the original and because I knew I could bully you into seeing it with me because of its zoological themes,” she corrects. “Anyway, that remake’s issue was that it had no soul. This remake’s issue is that it’s, like, demonically possessed, or something. Which, to be fair, cats, as a species, generally are.”

“Rebecca,” Valencia begins, voice all saccharine and scathing, “need I remind you of one of the many occasions you broke up with this one—” She jabs a thumb in Nathaniel’s face, making him frown. “—with the intention of adopting an entire shelter’s worth of felines?”

“That was a different time,” Rebecca dismisses. “I was punishing a version of myself I wasn’t proud of by resigning her to the fate I believed she deserved.”

Nathaniel tilts his head, bemused. “Huh?”

“Oh, she wanted to be a crazy cat lady,” Heather translates, enunciating loudly, “because she couldn’t bone you in the stationery closet without feeling bummed about it anymore. Just, like. While we’re on the subject of trysts.”

“Heath-er,” Rebecca hisses, kicking her ex-housemate in the shin.

Parsing their less than stellar communal romantic track record with a group of women all too happy to gang up on him afforded the slightest opportunity isn’t high on Nathaniel’s to-do list for the morning, and a flick of his wrist to check his smart watch is all the excuse he needs to make a timely escape.

“On that note,” Nathaniel says, snatching his car keys off the counter, “I’m going to leave you ladies be.”

The conversation barely dips as he sees himself out.

5.

“So in between your being typecast as our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ, you didn’t happen to don, say, a unitard and leg warmers, did you?”

“What?”

He knows he should be used to this by now—this tendency towards unexpected tack-changing that he’d liken to a dog with a bone, if the cliche didn’t feel somewhat inapt, considering. It’s not like he’s unaccustomed, after all this this time, to Rebecca’s one track mind. It’s just that up until this point, most of the tracks she’s been fixated on treading have usually, admittedly, served his own interests as easily as her own.

“Just checking, because for the record, it’s kind of a massive deal breaker for me.”

She flops into his side, not entirely-unpleasantly sticky, or in the very least, skin virtually indistinguishable from the slick of his own. Rebecca’s ability to pick up intelligible conversation immediately post-coitus is a talent he does not share, and as the golden fog of afterglow suffuses through his bloodstream he takes his time meandering back towards the realm where articulation is possible, content in the knowledge his bedmate will happily barrel on without him until he catches up.

“Just kidding,” she seems to feel the need to clarify, even in the absence of any protest on his behalf. “The knowledge that you were a theatre kid is such an aphrodisiac to me that it well and truly trumps any potential feline faux pas.”

“Wasn’t a theatre kid,” he corrects, the response so automatic he’s not sure it counts as cognitive function.

“Agree to disagree,” Rebecca says, earning herself an exasperated sigh.

Once the drumbeat of his pulse has slowed in his ears, he cracks an eyelid, suspicious of the lack of movement and sudden cease in chatter from the woman sprawled out across his upper torso. Rebecca’s gazing up at him as if she’s been patiently awaiting his full attention, chin resting on her stacked hands, a lazy, satisfied smile stretched across her features.

“You know, for someone who claims to hate Cats,” Nathaniel tells her with amusement after stretching to peck her on the mouth, “you kind of talk about Cats a lot. Some might even describe you as off-puttingly passionate on the subject. Not me,” he backtracks at her incredulous glare, tucking her hair behind her ear with affection. “I find your aggressive diatribe charming.”

Suitably placated, she drops her head back down against his shoulder. “They do say there’s a fine line between love and hate.”

He skates his hand down the bare expanse of her back, letting it settle in the dip between her hips. She undulates with the caress, thighs parting and sliding to bracket one of his. If she’s gunning for a second round he’s still got his refractory period to contend with, but there’s always other ways to keep her occupied, his loose-limbed lack of focus notwithstanding.

She doesn’t push it any further, though, apparently content for now in her own come-down, and he’s just about to give in to the pull towards sleep when it occurs to him what he’s neglected to ask.

“Did you?”

Rebecca’s even breaths, which up until now have been fanning rhythmically across the damp of his throat, catch and falter enough that he takes note of their telling absence.

“Hmm? Did I what?” she deflects, and his eyes narrow at the way she doubles down on the suggestive patterns she seems intent on tracing across his pectorals.

Determined not to be swayed, he shifts beneath her, laughter rumbling through him and muscle mass quaking like tectonic plates beneath the surface of his skin. “Oh, you so did,” he grins, pleased to have been on the money with his flicker of suspicion, eager to bask, as always, in any correct insight he’s managed to garner into his girlfriend’s endlessly multi-faceted brain. “This whole time there’s been incriminating photos of you somewhere wearing tacky fake-fur and an unseemly wig. There’s no hiding your shameful history, now—the cat is out of the bag.”

Rebecca smacks him on the chest, unimpressed, and he can see every telltale corner of her mouth at which the scowl fails to conceal the twitches of her laughter. “So what if my vendetta is somewhat rooted in past trauma? It doesn’t change basic fact, which is that the mere existence of Cats—animal, musical or movie—is a plague against mankind. And for what it’s worth, I didn’t need the wig—my early adolescent frizz was unseemly enough all on its own.”

Where late-night exhaustion-fuelled irritation existed only a few evenings prior, Nathaniel finds himself suddenly capable of only overwhelming fondness. “I think you would have made a very fearsome cat,” he tells her seriously. “All feisty, and nimble.”

He takes two locks of her hair, twisting them up into faux-ears on the top of her head until she bats his hands away, failing miserably at stifling her giggles.

“Stop that. You’re one adjective away from me adding myself back into the Mountaintop text chain just so I can make Maya’s week.”

“Uh-huh. Because I’m the one between us whose levels of preoccupation are concerning.”

He rolls her beneath him, nuzzling his nose against hers in an exaggerated way he can tell irritates her to no end given the context, but muscle memory wins out and she melts into it, the frown lines easing from her forehead as she moulds her mouth against his.

It’s only a matter of time before she’s pressing insistently against him, appetite predictably reawakened, and every sordid pun he could torture her with right now tingles at the ready on the tip of his tongue. But then she sighs into him with a kind of giddiness that sends his mind shattering into static, and as he nips and noses his way down past her belly every teasing thought disintegrates into the ether as he touches her until she’s arching, unraveling, drawing out his name in what can only be described as a delighted purr.

[walkerismychoice]

Not So Different After All (Logan X Colt)

Book: Ride or Die

Pairing: Colt Kaneko X Logan

Rating: PG-13

Summary: Gabi can’t stomach tending to Logan’s injuries, so someone’s got to do it. Unfortunately for Colt, that someone is him.

Note: This is an alternate version of the scene in chapter 5

Tag List: @tmarie82 @boneandfur @lizeboredom @choiceswreckedme @debramcg1106 @choiceslife

Word Count: 1575

"Logan, I'm so sorry." Gabi ghosts her fingers over his face and he winces at the featherlight touch. "You didn't have to do this for me."

"Yes, I did." Logan replies affectionately.

Colt rolls his eyes, a little disgusted by the sappy display. "As touching as this is, you need to fixed up, man if you don't want those injuries to get worse. I'm sure your little girlfriend would love to play nurse."

Gabi glares at Colt but before she can say anything back, Logan jumps in. "Gabi, I've got a first aid kit up in the loft. Will you come help me out?"

Gabi shakes her head. "I wish I could, but I get really squeamish around blood. I'd probably pass out and get my own head injury. I'm sorry Logan."

"Ximena, Toby, Mona? Anyone able to help me?" Logan pleads.

The three of them look at each other and then Mona smirks. "I think it's best if the three of us stay here and run interference in case Kaneko comes back. Colt, looks like that leaves you."

Colt wonders if this is some sort if twisted conspiracy to make him and Logan get along, but if that's the case, they can forget it. No use trying to play nice with some punk kid who hopefully won't be around much longer, but he'll help just to appease them for now. "Fine. Let's just get this over with."

"Great." Logan says flatly, rolling his eyes. "Let's go, Nurse Ratched."

Colt follows Logan up the stairs. He's not trying to stare at Logan's ass hugged perfectly by his form fitting jeans, but it's right in front of his face. He almost forgets momentarily the cocky asshole it's attached to. So what if he's hot? That's pretty much his only redeeming quality.

Once upstairs, Logan flicks on an old lamp and retrieves the kit from a cabinet. "Here." He thrusts it roughly into Colt's hands and sits on the edge of the bed.

Colt sits on the couch next to the bed to survey Logan's injuries. He's got some good cuts and bruises on his face, and Colt notices a deep gash near his collarbone extending under his white t-shirt. "I think you better take your shirt off, so I can check everything out."

Logan smirks. "I usually require a litte foreplay before I start taking off my clothes."

Colt narrows his eyes. "Do you want my help or not?" He's so not in the mood for Logan's sarcastic remarks.

"Okay, okay." Logan winces as he lifts the dirty, bloodied shirt over his head. Colt doesn't fail to notice Logan's nicely sculpted upper body. A spark flickers in Logan's eyes as he looks back to Colt. "You can close your mouth now before you start drooling."

"I wasn't...whatever," Colt mumbles with no basis to protest further. He was totally gawking at Logan's shirtless body and he got caught. He realizes he's too far to reach Logan from the couch so he gets up to join him on the bed. "Don't worry, I'm not trying to make a move on you. I'm just too far away over there."

Logan chuckles. "That's too bad," he jokes, or so Colt thinks. It's difficult to discern from his tone. Logan hisses as Colt starts to dab the cut on his collarbone with peroxide saturated gauze. "Ouch!"

Colt eases up but continues to clean the cuts. "Sorry, but that's about as gentle as I can get. I'd kiss it better, but I'm not your mother."

Logan's expression hardens. "Don't mention my mother," he snaps, but then his features soften slightly. "It's a sore subject."

"I get it. Same here," Colt confesses.

Logan scoffs. "Like you have anything in common with me. At least you weren't living on the streets when you should have been in high school. At least have a parent who loves you and wants the best for you - who can afford to send you to college and give you pretty much anything you want. And you don't even appreciate any of it and would rather throw it away and come back here, for what?"

"Fuck this." Colt throws the bandage in his hand down on the bed. "You know nothing about me, and I don't need to listen to you telling me how good I have it. You can fix yourself."

"Colt, wait." Logan grabs his hand as Colt moves to leave. An unexpected tingle of electricity from Logan's touch travels across Colt's skin. "I didn't mean it like that. Can we please finish this?"

He's not sure what compels him, but Colt reluctantly sits back down. Maybe it's the vulnerability in Logan's voice, or that if Colt were in that position he'd need help too. He nods but doesn't say anything, and after an awkwardly long pause, they both seem to realize at the same time that Logan is still holding onto Colt's hand. Colt pulls away, clearing his throat and starts to bandage up the rest of Colt's wounds.

Logan is the first to speak again. "Not to dig myself a deeper hole, but I feel like I should explain a little better. Your father has done more for me than I could have ever hoped for. He took me in when I had nowhere to go, gave me a job and some direction, but still I am completely envious of you. He's been kind to me so far, but the second I mess up or put his crew at risk, he could cut me out for good, just like that. He's the closest thing I've had to a father figure in a long time, but I'm not going to delude myself into thinking we are family. That's what you are. He loves you unconditionally and wants a better life for you than this. I'd trade places with you in a second if I could."

Colt takes a deep breath and mulls over Logan's words. To hear Logan is jealous of him throws Colt for a loop. All this time he's been jealous of Logan for taking a place in the crew he thought should be his. But after Gabi at the drive-in and now Logan here basically saying the same thing, Colt might be starting to believe it. Whether he agrees with his father or not, deep down Colt knows Kaneko loves him. Colt tips his head up and looks into Logan's crystal clear blue eyes as if really seeing him for the first time. "Heh. And to think I was jealous of you too."

"Of, what? My devastatingly handsome good looks?" Logan laughs, trying to lighten the mood.

"Definitely not your modesty," Colt quips, choosing not to dispute Logan’s comment because he is fucking gorgeous. But Colt's been told more than a time or two how hot he is. "And for the record, I know I'm not half bad to look at either."

Logan's eyes darken as he keeps his gaze fixed on Colt. "No, no you are not." A wicked smile briefly flits across his lips.

Colts looks away as he rises in his cheeks and he checks Logans injuries over one more time and thinking of something to change the subject before he embarrasses himself further. "So...you and Gabi seem to be spending a lot of time together."

Logan frowns and Colt instantly regrets bringing her up. "Gabi's a nice girl, and I really do like her, but...I don't know what she's doing with a guy like me."

"Oh." Colt neglects to hide the disappointment in his voice. For a split second he thought he might say something cheesy like, 'she doesn't compare to a guy like you.' What the hell is wrong with him. He still hates Logan, doesn't he?

"She deserves to go to college and meet someone more like her...And I need someone who can keep up with me and really gets where I'm coming from." Logan tilts Colt's chin up, looking him straight in the eyes. "Maybe someone more like you."

Every sensible part of Colt is telling him to run down those stairs and not look back. He and Logan don't get along and would never be a good match in any way, shape or form. Logan probably has a concussion and doesn't know what he's saying. Any yet... Colt licks his lips and leans in towards Logan like a moth drawn to a flame. Logan closes the distance, his lips brushing against Colt's ever so softly.

"Logan!" Gabi's voice calls from the top of the stairs, suddenly jolting them apart.

"Hey, Gabi. What's up? Colt was just checking me over and making sure I'm good to go."

"Oh, are you done?" Gabi asks Colt. "I need to get going soon before my dad flips out."

Colt shakes his head up and down. "Yep, he's good as new. He's all yours." Colt starts to turn and then looks back at Logan blankly. "I've saved your ass twice tonight, you owe me."

"That you did." A sly grin spreads across Logan's face. "I'll definitely have to make it up to you. Goodnight, Colt."

A shiver runs down Colt's spine at the implication of Logan's promise, while Gabi looks on, seemingly none the wiser. "Goodnight." And with that he walks down the stairs not knowing if everything has changed between them, or if this is a momentary lapse in judgment that will be all but forgotten in the morning.

[dualitysdownfall]

Portal 2 turns 8 today, so here is the third and final-for-now android GLaDOS I designed. This is the first full piece I’ve done of her, and the most detailed. Many new things were tried as well.

But instead of talking about the art I’m going to talk about the game. It’s not the anniversary of my art after all.

I only discovered Portal a little over a year ago, through SnapCube on YouTube. (Go check her out, she’s wonderful.) I constantly watch her videos even if I know nothing about the game just because she and her friends are so great and funny. I figured the same would be the case when I clicked on the first episode of Portal 2. It was when I was having to re-watch the same part of the video, once to see what the game was saying and once to see what Penny and Ryan were saying, that I figured I should probably look further into Portal.

So I did. To this day I’m still not quite sure what about it captivated me so--it’s quite evident, to me at least, that it’s not as simple as how it appears to my brain at first glance. You can tell, because of how many comments and tags I’ve written about its complexity. I guess even despite being panromantic and nonbinary, I don’t work well with things that are ambiguous or not clear-cut. And a lot of Portal’s story and characterizations lie in gray areas. You could say GLaDOS is the villain, and maybe she is in the first game, threatening to kill Chell right up until she meets her own demise. But that certainly doesn’t remain the case. Would a truly, wholly evil villain grant Chell her freedom? I think for the most part she was misguided by the scientists who made her and affected by the circumstances she was in following her activation. But I still stand by the assertion I indirectly made over a year ago in starting to write Humanoid Nature; that being that at the end of the day, GLaDOS is, despite her appearance, far more empathetic and far more human than she cares to admit, and her refusal to embrace that even after the events of Portal 2 (see her comments in co-op) is doing her no favors. She’s hurt and killed numerous people, she’s hurt and almost surely traumatized her best and only friend (we all know who that line in Want You Gone was referring to, no matter how immediately you denied it, GLaDOS!), and she’s still trying to convince herself that it’s fine, that she doesn’t need Chell or anyone else. Maybe deeper inside she feels not that she doesn’t need Chell, but that she doesn’t deserve Chell. Sure, they’ve both done awful things to each other. They’ve been antagonizing each other this whole time. But Chell saved GLaDOS and brought her back to power. And GLaDOS let Chell leave the facility and find a new life on the surface. Maybe she thinks she doesn’t deserve Chell, or anyone, she’s hurt all these people, she deserves to be lonely, at least that way the only people she’s really hurting are easily-reassembled robots who don’t seem to mind all that much.

There’s a lot to analyze in Portal, and I can’t analyze to save my life, not this kind anyway. But that last sentence was something I came up with entirely on my own, not influenced by a fic or anyone else’s analysis, which is why I’m very self-conscious that it’s probably not as good or accurate as someone else’s might be. But carrying on.

No one in Portal is definitively good or definitively bad. They’ve all done some bad things. But they have their redeeming qualities, and I love them. 

I wanted to try to keep this thread going, about what I make of the game itself, but I lost my train of thought entirely and don’t know how to tie it to a new one. So I’ll just start talking about the community.

Uh, it’s great. Despite not having a canon release in 8 years, the Portal fandom (especially on tumblr!!) is still going strong and creating amazing fanworks. Though the dedicated Portal fan has become an endangered species of sorts, I see beautiful Portal art every day, and have read so many fantastic fics, that I was inspired from the get-go to start making my own. And honestly, it’s resulted in some of my proudest creations. We even have a pretty dedicated RP community. 

So here’s to the friends, mutuals, and acquaintances I’ve made through the Portal fandom @tacothehawko @cave-science-johnson @ask-glados @beth-the-robot-enthusiast @thevoidsflame @arya-skulblaka

So yeah, maybe I was so late to this one that I have to follow the glados, chell, wheatley, and chelldos tags to get the amount of content on my dash that I can for something more recent without following any tags, but the nice part about being in a fandom 8 years after its last canon installment is that you know the people you’re interacting with really care about it. Either they have for years, or they too are discovering how beautifully the series holds up even after so long.

I think that’s all I have to say for now. Portal really means a lot to me so it was only fitting that I do something for the anniversary of Portal 2. I might finish another drawing later today, if I do I’ll post that too, keep an eye out both here and on @melancholy-starlight-art. 

[thosekidswhohuntmonsters]

Keeping Your Promises 

Summary: Thor is more oblivious with one eye than he was with two, especially when it comes to realizing how the people around him feel about him. With a push from Loki will Thor finally realize how the reader feels about him?

Word Count: 1660

Authors note: omg my first Thor imagine!! If you guys want me to write more Thor just lmk!!

**if you reblog or comment on my fics there’s a 100% chance I’d now die for you**

      As Loki walked past your room he stifled a chuckle. Leaning against your doorframe he asked, “Could you be more obvious, and my brother more oblivious”. Picking up your head from your book you turned to face him.

Baby you’re like lightning in a bottle, I can’t let you go now that I got it

You raised one of your eyebrows, pretending to play dumb. He didn’t budge, the look he was giving you made you know he had seen right through you. As the song continued he smirked.

All I need is to be struck, By your electric love

Baby, you’re electric

Reaching for your phone you skipped to the next song on your playlist. Without looking to him you softly said, “I thought you were the god of mischief, not the god of smugness”. Loki’s smirk grew, you were the only one he’d let toy with him like that.

“And I thought you midgardians were desperate to fall in love, and here you are denying it”. With that he left your room and continued to walk to his own. It was hard to tell who was smiling bigger, you or him.

Shaking your head you closed your bedroom door, and the second it was shut your mind continued to think of Thor. It had been a year since they’d returned from Ragnarok and had decided to live in the tower.

And it had also been a year since you’d first developed feelings for Thor. He had always made your heart skip a beat, but now given how much he’d grown emotionally you just couldn’t help yourself.

Thor had lost the most he ever had, but his heart was so giving that you would never know it. He constantly spoke of friendship and that “home” was rooted within people not places. It was like after all these years he’d finally found himself.

Although Thor remained oblivious to your feelings, Loki picked up on them instantly. He was used to people fawning over Thor, but none had ever had the character that you had. You weren’t another maiden, you were more.

Loki considered you one of Midgard’s only redeeming qualities, which was why he was so supportive of your feelings for his brother. Loki knew that the last person Thor ever thought about was himself, so it was hard to see when someone truly cared for him the ways in which you did.

He’d always believed his brother to be oblivious, but now more than ever. To make matters worse Thor shared your feelings, but was too unsure to act upon them. You were both lucky Loki refrained from locking you in the same room for 24 hours.

“Brother you’re staring, and quite possibly drooling”. Instantly Thor stopped leaning against the kitchen counter and stood back up straight. He tried to look casual, “Yeah well you’re also staring..staring at me..”.

Loki rolled his eyes at Thor’s lame comeback. He leaned a little closer, “The men in this house wildly outnumber the women, might be time you remember that”. Loki motioned his head forward, leading Thor’s gaze to you and Bucky.

Bucky was pulling you out of your glum mood by forcing you to dance with him. He turned up the speakers, “You know doll, dame’s used to line up just to dance with me”. As Bucky watched you slowly smile he knew he was getting through to you.

“Just dance with you?”, you teased knowingly. His loud laughter filled the room, and he pulled you a little closer. With a smirk he said, “That’s why you’re my best girl, you catch on quickly”.

Quickly he spun you out from his body before pulling you back into his chest. Placing both of your hands on his chest you rolled your eyes, “Okay consider me cheered up Barnes”. For a moment he held you there, not letting you escape his grasp.

Softly he whispered, “Good, because Thor over there is about to smite me where I stand”. While shaking your head you playfully pushed him back. Smiling you added, “Actually…wanna know what would really cheer me up?”.

Bucky finished your sentence, “Joe’s Pizza on 7th?”. You nodded your head, your stomach already beginning to grumble. Bucky motioned you to follow him, you both moving to get your coats.

For some reason Bucky stopped in the kitchen before going to the hallway with all your coats. He sighed, “You know what doll, I forgot that I’d promised Steve we’d train today. I can’t go get pizza with you I’m sorry”. You knew exactly what he was doing.

Loki realized too, “I would accompany you (y/n) but I can only stand so many midgardians at a time…but I know Thor doesn’t share these feelings. He loves Midgard and many of the people on it”.

As Loki turned to Thor his grin was enormous. After glaring at his brother Thor finally answered, “I’d love to go drink pizza with you (y/n)”. Biting your lip you tried to hold back a giggle but you couldn’t stop yourself.

Thor was amazed how you made even the smallest actions so arousing. You smiled, “Alright then I’ll show you the best Pizza this city has to offer…and we eat it not drink it. I mean you could drink it but-”.

As he heard the door close Loki turned to Bucky, “I do have to say that was well done on your part”. Bucky grinned, his earlier smugness returning within seconds. He shrugged his shoulders playfully, “It was a team effort really”.

Thor looked down at the food before him quizzically. He looked around him to see how other people ate the food, hoping to copy them. Slowly he brought his hands to fold the pizza, wondering for a moment if it was still alive and this technique helped finally kill it.

When the pizza crunched he jolted back a little bit, and as redness seemed to ooze from it he was convinced it had been once alive. Your voice brought his head back up, “If you don’t like it you don’t have to eat it”.

With that you began to eat your food, savoring every single bite. He watched you, “I thought you didn’t eat animals (y/n)?”. You raised one of your eyebrows at his question.

“I don’t..this isn’t an animal..oh my god”. As you pieced things together you laughed loudly. Thor was slightly embarrassed, but as he watched that beautiful smile of yours form every other emotion except desire left his body.

He smiled too, “Maybe I’m not as versed in midgardian culture as I thought”. You shook your head at his cute naiveness. Without thinking you let it slip, “No you’re cute”.

Knowing that you’d never get those words back, and he clearly heard them, you were eager to quickly move things along. Hoping to push away the moment you began eating the pizza again.

Thor noticed the blush on your cheeks, it was as red as what you’d told him had been the sauce. He now understood why it had felt like such a shift, with how you were reacting over a simple compliment it clearly meant more to you.

He’d heard you call many things cute, even Loki’s threats to destroy everyone in his worst fits of rage, so this cute obviously represented much more to you. Suddenly it all started to click in his mind.

Thor regained his confidence, “Hmm cute? Like how you look right now all flustered? You can tell me if I’ve used the term incorrectly”. Smugly he watched you blush even harder, and he felt Loki would even be proud of his boldness.

You knew that Loki was adopted, but right now Thor was mirroring that infamous smirk of Loki’s. Fumbling you managed to get out, “Uh..no you got that one right Thor…”. He nodded his head, his smile only fading as he took another bite.

You went to take another bite of your food too, but you just shook your head. Smiling you sighed, “I guess there’s no going back now huh?”. Placing down his pizza Thor held your gaze.

His smile was enormous, “No”. As Thor watched you bite your lip in contemplation he felt his heart race. He had seen women do the most obscene things while trying to get his attention, but you nearly had him begging on his knees without even knowing it.

You thought over the past year, and how much you all had lost. If there was anything you’d learned it was that nothing was promised, not even your next breath. Thor clearly liked you, so you needed to stop the voice in your head and finally act on your feelings.

“You know Thor, one day I’m going to get you all hot and bothered and see how you like it”.

It was a little more daring than you’d planned, but you liked the immediate reaction your words had caused. He was a fucking god, and here you were making him smirk wildly with your words.

“Oh I think I’ll quite enjoy it love, I just hope you keep your promises.”. Thor ended his sentence with a wink and continued to eat his pizza. Quickly he looked up from his food, watching your cheeks flush with color.

Thinking over his words you nodded your head, there was no going back now. Summoning all your courage you looked directly into his eyes, “Don’t let my innocent eyes fool you, I’m a woman of my word”. It was your turn to wink before continually to nonchalantly eat your food.

“I swear on Odin’s beard you shall be the death of me (y/n)”. Thor groaned while taking another bite, and you wondered if it was because of the delicious pizza, or you. Smiling to yourself you realized that the next time Thor made that noise around you, he wouldn’t be eating pizza.

——————————————————————————

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*a line through your name means it won’t allow me to tag you*

[mss4msu]

We Never Go Out of Style

Summary: You and Steve are in a continual on/off relationship when you finally decide you need to get out of the vicious cycle. That is until he shows back up and convinces you that your relationship never goes out of style.

Pairing: Steve x Reader

Words: 2461

A/N: I wanted to write a fic using the lyrics from T. Swift’s “Style”. The bolded words are the lyrics, and they’re in order based on verse, so hypothetically you should be able to sing along. Also, this used to be a NSFW fic, but I’ve edited it to be clean.

Warnings: There is some angst bc it’s an angsty song. And there is “language”.

Photo Cred: http://alphalewolf.tumblr.com/post/128652676252 @alphalewolf

After a long and exhausting week of work, you decided you needed to blow off some steam. You called up Nat and Wanda and plan to hit the clubs. You spent the past hour dancing and giggling, and were somehow convinced that it would be a good idea to do shots in addition to the drinks you had already ordered. After your 3rd tequila shot you realize that maybe you should’ve just gone home and slept after work. The quality of the dance music was rapidly decreasing, and Nat and Wanda were busy flirting up guys to get them to buy them drinks. There were only so many random dudes you could feign interest in without getting bored. He was the only one on your mind.

“Hey, guys, this has been fun, but I think I’m gonna head home,” you tell them.

“You sure??” Nat asked, turning around from the bar with yet another free drink.

“Yeah, it’s been a long week and I just need to go sleep I think.”

“So it always goes with you. How are you getting home?” Wanda asks.

“I’ll just call an Uber, I’ll be fine! I’m going to run to the bathroom first though.” you respond.

While you knew you should just call an Uber, you also knew you’d rather see him. Although, the chances of him actually answering were slim to none. He was probably still on that mission to God knows where he had left on without telling you. You get into the bathroom and let out a sigh of relief to be able to hear yourself think again. You pull out your phone and check the time: Midnight. You find him in your contacts after a few minutes of searching. You had to stop changing his contact name every time he pissed you off. With each subsequent ring, your heart starts pounding louder and louder.

“Hello?” Your heart skips a beat as you hear his voice. “(Y/N)?”

“Steve,” you whisper. You realize you’re the only one in the bathroom. You clear your throat, cursing that tequila for making you think you should call him over a regular Uber. “Will you come and pick me up? I’m out at that dance club that we went to a few times. You know the one?”

“The one on 53rd? Yeah I remember it. Sure, i’ll be there in 10.”

“Yeah, that’s the one. Thanks,” you reply and punch the red button to hang up harder than you meant to. Why did you do this to yourself? He wasn’t even there yet and you already knew the night was going to end badly. To get your mind off of it as you wait, you decide to dance one last song with Nat and Wanda. Finally you feel the buzz of your phone.

“Alright ladies, that was my last song, my ride is finally here. I’ll see you later!” you see two new guys approach them as you turn to leave. They would be fine without you.

You get outside and see people stumbling around you. You look up and down the street, but see no headlights. You then hear a honk and your heart skips a beat. This was a big mistake, you think as you run over to his car.

“Hey,” you say as you slide into the passenger seat.

“Hey,” Steve replies. You hoped he noticed how damn good you looked. You had probably subconsciously planned to call him tonight, as you were wearing the shirt that best showed off your cleavage. “So you want to go home?” he asked

“Yes, please,” you respond, buckling your seatbelt and slouching into the seat. Your head was pounding from the silence after having spent hours listening to non-stop bass, and your heart was pounding to actually seeing him again.

“As you wish,” he said, turning the car back on.

“You finally got to The Princess Bride on your list?” you asked him. You had specifically requested that he watch it, but he had always put it off whenever you were together. You could never figure out why, as it was an iconic love story and the two of you had been in love once, at least you liked to think you had.

“Yup,” he curtly replied. From his short answer you could tell this was gonna be a long drive, but you noticed that what he lacked in words he made up for in the looks he kept giving you. He can’t keep his wild eyes on the road, you thought, feeling yourself start to blush. You could feel him undressing you at every stop sign and red light. At this point, you decided the night could end in burning flames or paradise.  

You jolt awake to the car coming to a halt and as your eyes fade into view, you see Steve reaching over and unbuckling you.

“Oh!” I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to fall asleep!” Wow, Steve is finally back and responsive, takes me home, and I can’t even stay awake for it, you began to internally yell at yourself.

“It’ fine (Y/N),” he answered, holding the door open for you. “You know, it’s been a while since I have even heard from you.”

“Well, I haven’t heard from you either,” you start fumbling for the light switch, taking the time when the lights are off to compose yourself.

“I’ve been busy. I haven’t had time for anyone anymore. It’s not easy being Captain America,” he says as he’s taking off his coat.

“Hmm,” maybe that was true, but it was a bullshit excuse. “Yeah, that’s why I quit.” Nat and Wanda had been trying to get you to tell him for ages, but you wanted to keep this little piece of information to yourself until it was convenient to bring it up. The fact that he had had little emotion all night, which is probably what made you fall asleep in the first place, made you finally decide to share.  

“You what!?? Since when?” he asks with shock in his voice and wide eyes. Finally, you got the satisfaction of an emotional reaction.

“I got tired of all the drama, Steve. Saving the world every day takes a lot out of a girl.”

“What drama? Saving the world I get, I say all the time that it’s no easy job. But drama? I don’t know about that...”

“Don’t play dumb with me, Steve. I’ve heard that you’ve been out and about with some other girl. You obviously have time for someone.”

“Some other girl?” he asks and then pauses. Finally he says, “What you’ve heard is true, but I can’t stop thinking about you and I. Things didn’t really end well between us and I got lonely on that last mission, (Y/N). 3 months away from everyone I know and love and care about, and then one random person starts to give me some attention and I felt compelled to give it back. I’m sorry.”

“Steve, this is the biggest bullshit. Things didn’t end well between us because, yet again, Fury gave you an assignment and you just left without telling ANYONE. I swear, right now I should just tell you to leave ‘cause I know exactly where it leads...” but I can’t, you finish in your head. You couldn’t give him that satisfaction right now. You were too angry. “How many times will we let this relationship end and then stupidly decide to start it up again? I hate that I just watch it go round and round each time and never try to change it.”

“(Y/N), I said I’m sorry. I’ve been thinking about you a lot lately and I get that we are in this cycle of on-again off-again and everything you’re thinking, I’ve been there too a few times. I want to make this work though. I’ve had these past three months to really think about everything and I realized all of the mistakes I’ve made, especially when it comes to you and I’m ready to redeem myself. But, if you want me to leave, you got it,” he said with rejection in his voice.

You angrily look him up and down. You were extra pissed that he had that James Dean daydream look going on tonight. You felt your eyes well up with tears. No. You were not going to cry. He was not getting that satisfaction from you. He never understood that tears didn’t always mean sad. Right now you were pissed. You were pissed he’d gotten with another girl and you were pissed that he had cut you out of his life and you were pissed that he still looked so damn good.

“Something in your eye, (Y/N)?” he asked gently.

Shit. You were tired of him making you cry, and you had sworn to never waste your tears on him again.

“Steve, you’ve been gone for 3 months with no communication. No phone calls, no texts, not even a fucking letter. I know you know how to send a letter. That’s the only way you had to communicate ‘back in the day’!” you couldn’t help the sarcasm that came out.

His face fell. You would maybe have felt a little badly about it if you hadn’t been so heated it. Thank you tequila! you thought. You were finally going to get all of this off your chest and he was just going to have to take it.

“You’ve been gone for months and I still can’t forget you! Anytime I go out I got that red lip, classic thing that you like. I still dress like I’m trying to impress you even when you aren’t here. That’s fucking ridiculous. We just live in this fucking cycle of being together and everything going great and then you get some ‘super secret’ assignment and go away for months with no word and then, wouldn’t you know it, you show up again just as I’m ready to move on! I’m so exhausted by it! When we go crashing down, we come back every time and I just can’t take it! Plus, this time there was another woman involved. Like fuck, not only did you not make time for me, you somehow found time for someone else. Fuck you, Steve.” You were finally crying, you just couldn’t help it at this point.

“It’s ‘cause we never go out of style,” he says quietly to you.

“The fuck does that mean? Use modern terms, Steve.”

“I mean, we never go out of style. This relationship is one that will never get old, even when we do.”

“You know what does fucking get old, Steve? You leaving and me never knowing when you’re coming back or where you went, or apparently who you’re with when you’re there. I’m surprised you even answered tonight, let alone actually show up for fucking once.”

“I’m really sorry I’ve treated you this way, (Y/N). I really want to make it up to you.”

You stared him in the eyes and the softness in his made you take a deep breath and think about what he had said. Three apologies? In one night? There was no way that was what had been happening. In your anger you had probably imagined it. These things were never this easy. Any fight you had lasted hours if not days. He always fought you on any mistake you said he made, apparently his never giving up attitude applied not only on the battlefield, but in his romantic life too.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” you say, to which he just shakes his head. You’re so struck with disbelief by his apparent change of heart that you take his silence as time to regain your train of thought. This also gives you a chance to really look at him. Apparently his attitude was not the only thing about him that was different. His hair had grown since last time you’d seen him; you’d never seen it that long. You noticed he also had his hair slicked back. And he was wearing a white t-shirt that you could slightly see through. Fuck, this happened every time too. You’d get pissed, fight, and then remember how fucking hot his body was. The silence between you became more deafening than the music in the club.

He was the first to break the silence. “You’re right, I’ve been absent and it hasn’t been fair to you. I’ve never made the time for you that you deserve and I’ve always put myself first. I’ve really been re-considering my behavior and how I let my job get the best of me, and I got to thinking about how I let myself get the best of me too. You have always been the best part of my life. Everything about you is perfect for me: you are, or were I guess, in the same line of work, you’ve got that good girl faith that a God-fearing man like me looks for, and you look damn fine in a tight little skirt. And you’re right, when we go crashing down, we come back every time. So, let’s stay together this time. I’m telling ya’ gorgeous, I only need one more chance to prove it to you.”

“Why? Why should I think you have or will change? Why would I give you another chance?” you ask him, although hearing him talk about why you were perfect for each other had caused you to feel butterflies in your stomach. It had also caused your underwear to get slightly wet.

“‘Cause we never go out of style,” he repeated.

Your heart was racing. You had been avoiding eye contact during his whole apology, afraid that if you looked at him, you would give in too quickly. Hearing him talk about why he wanted to be with you and having him pledge to not break your heart again, caused you to finally look up. His blue eyes pierced yours and you felt a jolt in your gut.

“Steve, how can I be sure? How can I know you’ll treat me right this time? How can I trust you?” Tears began to sting your eyes

“Because, I love you, (Y/N). I always have and I always will.”

He stepped towards you, putting both his hands on your face, gently wiping the tears from your cheeks. You took a step towards him, feeling the warmth radiating from his chest.

You looked him straight in the eyes, “Always?”

“We never go out of style,” he replied, his fingers tangling in your hair as he put his hands on the back of your head, pulling you in for a kiss.

Tag List:

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[canaryatlaw]

Alright, it’s currently 8:53 pm Illinois time (we’re still in Indiana so my phone thinks it’s 9:53, it didn’t transition for the whole day until like now apparently and is probably supposed to have changed back by now but here we are), we’re in the car on the way home from the con and I’m starting to write now because I need to go to bed ASAP when I get home because I once again could not fall asleep FOR MY FUCKING LIFE last night and of course I had to get up early so we could road trip to the con so I got like an hour and a half of sleep??? The last time I remember looking at the clock was at 5:08 am and my alarm was set for 6:45 am, so....it wasn’t good. But yeah, today was really good despite my lack of sleep. I did wake up when my alarm went off at 6:45 am, I had a message from Jess saying to give her like 10-15 more minutes than we initially planned so I got ready and waited for her to come pick me up. We got gas and then McDonald’s, breakfast sandwich and coke if I wanted to stay awake all day lol. And so we were off to Indiana for the con. The drive there was fairly unremarkable, we stopped at a rest stop for a minute but that was about it. We made it into Indianapolis around like 11:30 their time, parked in the parking garage next to the con center and got to the con. Our drive through Indianapolis revealed that today was definitely their pride parade and with a little more research we probably could’ve done the parade and the con, but oh well, not much we can do about it now. According to the online schedule the photo op for the guy Jess had a photo with was at like 1:20, so when we arrived we had to wander through the giant con center at first and then redeem our tickets and actually get to the main hall, where we located the photo op people and asked about the schedule.

It’s a good thing we checked, because he was not in fact at 1:20 anymore, he had gotten to what was first 4:45 and would then move to 5:45 in not too long. So obviously this was a bit of a curveball, since according to the earlier schedule we probably would’ve headed out a lot earlier. So now we have some time to kill. Well we wanted to see the guests anyway, and the first I wanted to see was the kid from Shazam, Asher Angel, mostly because I wanted to go on about how much positive depiction of foster children in media means to the kids out there that are constantly thought of as a problem and nothing more. He was sweet, definitely a teenage boy lol you could tell it was one of his first cons, but he was doing alright and was nice to talk to. He definitely looked bored at other points throughout the day which I can’t really blame him for, he is a teenage boy and the amount of attention the celebrities were getting at this con was definitely less than expected. Like, there were pretty much no lines for everybody....the entire con was a lot smaller than expected. So that was interesting to deal with. After that though we went and said hi to the guy Jess wanted to see from Shield and she got a selfie with him, he was really nice too. At that point we wandered the show floor for a while, Jess unsurprisingly found some kpop merch (it’s generally among the anime booths at this point) so she bought some of that which was cool. We ended up leaving the con center to get some food because con food is always trash and overpriced, and we didn’t have anything else better to do lol.

So we ended up going to steak and shake, which was a giant joke because the last time we went to a con in Indiana we got into a fight that kind of climaxed in us ending up going to steak and shake for dinner despite my request that we go literally anywhere else because my acid reflux was really bad that day, but that’s a whole other story we won’t go into, just know the fact that we ended up there was a giant fucking joke. I got a cheeseburger and a strawberry shake, and we killed some time there for a while before finishing up and walking back to the con. We returned to the main hall and ended up saying hi to John Wesley Shipp, this con was like prime for just getting to say hi to celebs because so many of them were standing around lol. He was cool, we got back to the Shield guy to get an autograph for Emily, and right next to him was Dot-Marie Jones, and I recalled that she had been at Clexacon and afterwards her wife had posted about how awful the con had been to them on Instagram and she was free so I was like if we approach this correctly we could get some quality tea about Clexacon out of this interaction lol. She had stickers that they were selling for $5, so we bought a sticker (they ended up giving us two) and were like “oh we just wanted to say hi, we wanted to see you at Clexacon but we heard it wasn’t great for you guys?” and that basically worked perfectly and launched a like, 20 minute conversation that consisted of all the terrible shit Clexacon had done to them and like, it was bad. The biggest revelation was definitely that the con wasn’t paying any of the celebrities to be there (I realize a lot of people aren’t privy to how the financial arrangements for cons work so that might not seem like a big deal but it is HIGHLY unusual and I couldn’t believe they got that many guests without paying any of them) and on top of that wanted a cut of their autograph money and shit which is just.....wild. It was a really good conversation though, not just about Clexacon but on how the voices of actual queer women should be the ones being centered, not just straight actresses that portray them but don’t live the stories (and we all know I adore my actresses, but it’s not the same) and like Clexacon had just been so shitty to her when she was one of the only actual queer women there and they could’ve had so much more but they were clearly only motivated by greed. She’s a super lovely person too and it was just overall a great conversation and it was really a pleasure to talk to her.

After that, or some time around then, the timeline might not be perfect here but I’m doing my best lol. We basically had nothing to do but I wanted some water so we walked over to their food court area and got some water bottles with the intention of just sitting at the table there for a while, which we did, but they ended up doing some like, pre-podcast launch media session with these three ladies who are launching a cold case podcast about this case from Indiana where this little girl was killed and I mean I only listened to their info about the case but I’m pretty fucking sure the abusive stepfather’s the one who did it (let’s be real, if the kid of an abusive parent dies, there is an extremely high chance the parent did it, and that chance actually goes up further by the fact that he was a stepparent, this is the reality of child abuse that I work with) so idk how much of a cold case there is to investigate there but Jess found them on twitter and they currently had like 18 followers lol so I mean maybe they’ll find their stride and build up a fan base. After their presentation and a little while of more time chilling out we ended up going back to the con area and seeing John Glover, whom we paid $20 to get a selfie with, he was again so delightfully bizarre and just absolutely hilarious to interact with and talk about Shazam with. So that was cool, and after that we chilled outside the main hall for a bit until Jess decided it was time to line up for the photo op, at which point I wandered for a bit and eventually ended up at Vanessa Marshall’s table who I kinda wanted to meet, she’s a voice actress who’s been in a ton of stuff but most relevant to me was that she did Black Canary for Young Justice and recently did an interview with the young justice podcast I listen to that was just fucking amazing about self-acceptance and that really just made me want to meet her so I paid $20 for a selfie with her and ended up having a lovely conversation with her.

After that I wandered a bit more and ended up buying a $5 “damaged” piece of Wonder Woman fan art (it was in the damaged pile but I couldn’t see anything wrong with it and it was a damn good deal) and ended up buying an adorable print of Goose the cat that was $10 and is going to go great on my Captain Marvel closet door. After that I reunited with Jess after her photo op and waited a little while longer waiting for the print while talking with a nice couple we’d previously spoken to at a con at some point lol. Once we got the photo we headed out, left Indianapolis and headed straight to the Cracker Barrel we’ve definitely been to before lol. There was a little bit of a wait but we got in in like ten minutes or so. Got our classics but they sadly we slightly less quality than we’ve previously had, but still mostly good. After dinner I raided their candy section very lightly and Jess acquired a giant stuffed goat I said I’d buy her so we paid the bill and bought that and headed out.

From there we’ve been driving, stopped once to go to the bathroom in the rain, but it mostly stopped raining so we didn’t have to deal with too much of it. The highlight of the drive home was definitely realizing Jess’ nemesis who was at the con was actually in the car behind us, and we proceeded to cut her off like three different times and it was great, I’m pretty sure she was still behind us when I started writing this and she was behind us until we hit the greater Chicago area but now we’re pulling up to our neighborhood that’s having it’s massive Nordic fest right now (“midsommarfest”) which looks pretty wild right now, but I’ll be home in a second and probably finish this off right before I go to bed, after I shower. My phone now said it’s 10:47 pm, though it should say it’s 9:47 pm Chicago time, so we’ll have to see for how much longer we’ll have to deal with that. But I’m about to get out of the car so I’ll leave this here.

Okay, it’s 10:54 pm currently, though my phone still says 11:54 pm lol. But I’m all showered and ready to go to sleep, and boy am I sleepy, so I’ll be going to bed now. Goodnight my friends. Hope you had a lovely Saturday as well.

[fallout4holmes]

Journal 26

Dogmeat woke long before I did, I suspect with the first hint of food being prepared. I found him in the mess hall, begging from my two officers. Danse, sitting down and eating despite being in power armor, ignored the canine. Preston, sitting across from Danse, slipped something from his plate every third time Dogmeat nosed his knee.

“Preston, you’re spoiling him,” I said as I joined them.

“Morning, General. Can’t do too much harm, can it?” He turned to Dogmeat, “Not like you can get anything begging from him, can you?”

Dogmeat made a short sound between a whimper and an excited woof. Preston laughed, and scratched Dogmeat’s neck.

I smiled, “He doesn’t have to. The Minutemen recruiters and the Diamond City Guard all spoil him without my help. Not to mention Shaun. And I suspect Codsworth.” I frowned. “Valentine too, come to think of it, and I’m certain Piper does, if only just to spite me in good humor.”

Danse turned his laugh into a cough.

“Rebellion in the Holmes household,” Preston joked. “I’ll send over some troops right away.”

“I am perfectly capable of handling matters on my own, thank you,” I grinned.

A thrilled “Bonjour, Monsieur Holmes!” came from behind me, “And allô to Monsieur Dogmeat as well.” Dogmeat’s tail wagged as Curie scratched his head, and then went right back to focusing on Preston. “Colonel and Lt. Colonel, good morning!”

We all said our respective hellos, and Sturges appeared beside her with two plates of food. “Mornin’! Glad to see you, General. Mind if we join you?”

The answer was obvious, and soon Sturges was next to Danse, with Curie beside him. Even with Sturges between them, Danse seemed a bit ill at ease. My suspicion was confirmed when Preston leaned over to mutter softly, “Just found out about her… origins.”

“Ah.” A synth Danse could deal with, even one with such unique behavior as Curie. Finding out the mind inside the synth is actually that of a robot… that was a little too reminiscent of the technologies run amok he’d been trained to prevent.

Danse was watching Preston. He raised an eyebrow, and made a visible effort at relaxing. It didn’t quite work, but the effort was the important part.

Sturges and Curie wanted to know about Diamond City and the family, and I asked about improvements to the town and Curie’s continued studies. And then Mayor Hancock of Goodneighbor walked through the door.

All conversation in the mess hall went slightly quiet at the sight of a ghoul in eighteenth century red coat and tricorn hat, star-spangled-banner for a sash. Someone uttered a muted “holy shit the Mayor,” though I couldn’t tell who.

“Mayor Hancock!” I greeted him, “Help yourself and come join us.”

He grinned, devilish and preening, “Thanks, General. Don’t mind if I do.”

Discussion resumed. Preston frowned, doubtful. Danse scowled, and stood, “Excuse me, General, but I think it’s best if I return to duty.” He said, slightly louder, “If I reach the training grounds before my recruits, there’ll be hell to pay.”

Curie was puzzled. “Surely you will be hampered by the armor?”

“You ever seen him run in that armor?” Preston asked with a smile.

“No.”

“The recruits have.”

There was a sudden mass exodus from the mess hall. Danse looked pleased. “Gentlemen. Curie.” He followed his troops out.

Hancock sat down beside me, amused. “Crew-cut sure is the soldierly type.”

“More than you know,” I smirked.

We ate in silence a moment before Curie, unable to contain her curiosity, said, “You are a fascinating specimen, Monsieur Hancock.”

Hancock’s brow rose and opened his mouth, but before he could say anything Sturges said, “Honey, we talked about calling people specimens.”

Curie sighed, “I do not see why such a simple and general scientific term should be offensive.”

“Coming from you, it’s usually not, but some folks get touchy when you talk about them like they’re in a lab.”

“This is a struggle of mine,” Curie said to Hancock with an apologetic shrug, “adjusting centuries of programming for a precise vocabulary.”

Hancock blinked. “... Centuries?”

“Long story,” Sturges put out a hand, “Name’s Sturges.”

Hancock shook hands with an impressed, and bemused, smile, “Hancock.”

“Mayor Hancock. From Goodneighbor?”

Word of his fame, or infamy, never ceases to please him. “One and the same.”

“Huh. Ok. Well, I’m not sure how long the General’s staying, but if you want to lend a hand while you’re here, let me know. Always work that needs to be done.”

“And you’re the one that does it.”

“More often than not,” Sturges smiled. “I like working with my hands, and it’s not like everyone else doesn’t pull their weight. Everyone helps out.”

Hancock was skeptical. “Even the soldiers?”

“Especially the soldiers.” Sturges nodded toward Preston, whose frown hadn’t quite left his face yet. “Preston thinks it’s important the soldiers be as much a part of the settlement as everyone else that comes here, and the Lt. Col. agrees.”

“The guy in power armor,” Hancock clarified.

“That’s him. Curie here is the town medic, and if you need any supplies you'll want to see Al at the general store. He used to live in Goodneighbor, you might recognize his coat.”

Hancock was puzzled a moment before realization hit. “Wait. Yellow coat? That guy??”

“He sold my family our… room… in the Vault,” I said, “and then they wouldn't let him in. I understand he's set up some effective trade agreements for the settlement.”

Sturges nodded, “Nice guy. Well, I've got beds to build this morning. Young couple showed up a couple days ago, haven't said much, but they've got that look… I'm thinking Institute refugees. Past few months have been real hard for them. Dunno if they're synths or scientists, or maybe I'm way off, but that's the feeling I get from them.”

Hancock thought a moment, and then he shrugged and started rifling through his pockets. “Hell, Trouble here ain't gonna be much of it while he's playing General. Usually prefer a supervisory role myself, but I'm game if you want help.”

“Really? Well alright! Let's get to it, Mayor.”

Hancock found the canister of jet he’d been looking for, reconsidered, and stowed it away again. “Buildin’ shit, mentat’s better,” he muttered as he followed Sturges out the door.

Curie smiled, “I shall be in the medical facility - medbay. The Lt. Colonel calls it that, yes? Also clinic?”

“As it is your facility, you should decide what it’s called,” I said. “Danse will adjust.”

“Hm. I like this idea.” She smiled, and happily walked out of the mess hall.

I turned to Preston. His frown hadn’t lessesned. “You’ve heard of Hancock, I take it.”

He glanced away, and then attempted a nonchalant shrug. “I’ve never actually been to Goodneighbor before, but from what I hear it’s the sort of place you better watch your step.”

“That is accurate.”

Preston sighed. “Don’t let him talk you into anything you’ll regret later.”

“Honestly, Preston. Do you think that likely?”

He smiled, just a little. “Guess not. Still worth saying. If you’re finished, I’d like to go over some plans with you since you’re in town?”

“Of course.”

The rest of the day was spent “playing General,” as Hancock put it. The trade route north from Murkwater had to be re-routed around the Gunners headquarters, at least until a force could be mobilized to eliminate the threat. Stopping Gunners is always at the top of Preston’s list of things to accomplish, but he fortunately has enough sense to know Danse would be a more objective judge of Minutemen capabilities in taking on an entire Gunner stronghold. Our previously discussed plans for turning the nearby Red Rocket into an auxiliary settlement had come to fruition, with Sturges taking a special interest in the project. As Preston said, “The man built a teleporter. He wins all the arguments.”

It was later in the afternoon when Danse approached me. Sturges had somehow convinced Hancock to assist with further repairs. The Mayor of Goodneighbor was on a roof with a hammer, his coat hanging on the lone fencepost still standing in the yard beneath. I watched from across the street.

“A word, General?”

“Of course, Danse.”

“Permission to speak freely, sir.”

I was instantly a touch wary, though I suspected I knew what his concern was. “Granted.”

“I don’t think your decision to travel with a chem-addicted pseudo-anarchist dictator of a settlement of criminals and outcasts is wise.”

I blinked. “I’m proud of you, Danse, you didn’t mention the fact he’s a ghoul once.”

He frowned, “General.”

“Mayor Hancock takes great pains not to be dictatorial, actually. Though I’m not entirely clear what his day to day duties consist of beyond organizing the defenses against super mutant attacks.”

Danse scowled with a huff of frustration, “Holmes -”

“I’m taking you seriously, Danse. I know Hancock’s reputation does not inspire confidence, but do you honestly think I would travel with him if he was nothing more than what you have just described?”

He thought for a moment, “No, you wouldn’t. However I fail to see whatever redeeming quality you may have found.”

“He’s… how did he put it… ‘not out to hurt anyone that doesn’t deserve it.’”

“But he’ll stand by as people fall victim to crimes in his own town?”

“He doesn’t approve of cold-blooded murder. However, it doesn’t take much to justify violence, particularly against those who are oppressing others.”

“This is not reassuring. Who’s running Goodneighbor while he’s with you?”

“His second in command, a terrifying woman called Fahrenheit. He’s left town enough times they’re used to it. He says getting out keeps him honest, reminds him how the rest of the world lives.”

“You believe him?”

“I think it is both a sincere belief that no one in power should be comfortable for too long, and a desire for distraction.”

“Do you trust him?”

“I believe so. … you still aren’t satisfied.”

“I don’t think I’m ever going to be, but at least I am fairly certain my friend hasn’t gone insane.”

I scoffed. “That’s something.”

He sighed, “I hope you understand, you saved my life. I owe it to you to voice my concerns when I think you might be endangering yours. I know Garvey feels the same.”

“I understand, Danse,” I said, sincere. “Thank you.”

He nodded once. “You’re welcome.” We resumed watching the construction. Hancock was telling Sturges about a time Klio needed repair work done on her shop’s roof. Apparently the cause of the damage was a faulty weapon’s misfire… but he suspected it was actually the assaultron’s own laser, either fired in anger or frustration.

“An assaultron runs a weapons shop in Goodneighbor?” Danse’s question was mirrored by Sturges asking Hancock the same thing.

“Yes,” I said, and changed the subject. “I saw Nash and Crosby on their way to the Castle. They stopped in Diamond City.”

Danse was pleased - no, proud. “They performed admirably through training and I hope the Castle puts their talents to good use.”

“I hope they extend to all Minutemen the same loyalty they feel for you.”

Danse blinked. “For me?”

“There were Brotherhood soldiers in Diamond City’s marketplace the day they arrived. A Scribe insulted their training. They seemed to take it personally.”

Conflicting emotions fought across his face for a moment, “What happened?”

“Nothing, I stepped in when I saw the argument, set both parties aright and sent them on their way. They were reluctant, but they followed orders.”

“The Minutemen, or the Brotherhood?”

“Ha, both. You should be proud of the work you’ve done.”

“I am.” He hesitated, “Garvey worries I'm going stir-crazy. It's been a long time since I was in the field. Yet, he also says it's too much of a risk.”

“Hm. Is he worried about the truce, or is he worried about you?”

“He is more concerned with the possibility that I may be killed than he is with the idea of fighting the Brotherhood. In fact, he'd probably welcome the opportunity to test his precious artillery on the Prydwen.”

“This is a point of contention between you?”

Another hesitation. “Not exactly. I don't understand how someone so forgiving in general is able to hold such a grudge against an organization he's never had contact with, apart from me.” He scoffed, “Clearly I underestimated how distasteful the experience of meeting me was.”

I chuckled, “His opinion of you is not the same as his opinion of the Brotherhood. Not anymore, at least, and hasn't been for some time.”

Danse nodded, “I know. When you were last here, the night after you left he stood in my doorway and asked how I could think the Minutemen would let me die without a fight. I told him I wasn't worth anyone dying for, much less starting a war over.”

I cocked my head, studying Danse’s face, and thankful he dislikes wearing a helmet outside of combat. “Preston disagreed.”

“Strongly.” Danse remained expressionless for all of five seconds before a sort of embarrassment came over him. It was the same look I saw every time he told me something personal about himself back when he wore Brotherhood colors. “We've spoke a great deal since then. Neither of us quite understands the other, but at the same time there are some things we understand better than anyone else.”

I thought I understood, and the sight of Preston visiting Danse in the middle of the night gained new significance. “Nightmares.”

He watched me closely. “… yes. When did you arrive last night?”

“Just in time to see him go inside your quarters.” Danse blushed, which was not quite the reaction I expected. “And now my suspicion it might be more than talking about nightmares is confirmed?”

“It isn’t… not last night, most of the time not, but… ugh.” He clearly wished the conversation wasn’t happening.

I shrugged, “Honestly, it wouldn't matter to me at all if that were the case, as long as you are both happy and it doesn’t interfere with your work… though I suppose that is somewhat hypocritical of me. I'm hardly making regular patrols.”

Emotions vanished, the soldier gratefully declaring, “Neither are you commanding from behind a desk.”

“Kind of you to say so.”

His brow furrowed. “You answer when we call, no matter how trivial the matter. We value your advice, and will follow your command. Though,” he amended, “perhaps you should make an appearance at the Castle once in a while.”

I grinned, “You’re right, I should.” A thought occurred to me. “Have you ever been to the Castle, Lt. Colonel?”

“I have not.”

“A terrible oversight. It seems to me the man in charge of training my troops should at least be familiar with the facility he’s sending them to.”

The slight shift in his expression was almost mischievous. “I concur.”

“Could Col. Garvey continue training in your absence for, oh, a week or so?”

“Affirmative. However, he may be resistant to the idea.”

“I anticipate as much. Let’s go talk with him.”

Preston was indeed resistant, and understandably so. However, he also knew Danse needed some time outside Sanctuary, just for a bit, and he couldn’t argue that the third in command of the Minutemen, and the man in charge of training new recruits, needed to see the ‘official’ headquarters at least once in his life. It would take some arranging, so I planned to continue on my tour of settlements with Hancock and meet Danse in Diamond City before travelling on to the Castle together. He would escort the next traders passing that way, providing a convenient excuse for a man in full power armor to be on the road.

Sturges said he had an idea for making it clear Danse was ‘Minutemen’ and hopefully decreasing the chance of a hostile confrontation with the Brotherhood. I’m not sure what he has in mind, but I’ll find out the next time I’m in Diamond City.