#me an entire year and a half later: what if i just play nina

[vigilskeep]

I don't recall you nina posting before but [chinhands] please tell me everything about her she sounds amazing

nina was Just A Little Guy Doing Her Best. my original cadash i played after playing minerva and keir for the first time. she’s just a nobody lesser cousin of lesser cousins from the carta and she’s trying to crack jokes to pretend she doesn’t desperately want to believe she really is chosen. a very genuinely kind person but because she learned her morals from the wrong people she also just believes murder is basically okay. she’s kind of the lighter/funnier contrast to my blood mage warden and reaver hawke but it only makes the tragedy hit harder, ideally

i kind of got disenchanted with her playthrough for a variety of reasons, like, um, i meant her to be quite young intending her for the sera romance but then i wasn’t having fun with sera/cadash and because of the age i’d decided, all the other romances felt weird. i wonder if i could rewrite her aged up for maybe blackwall or josie

i also need to keep playing with the cadash backstory more so i can tie it into the lore i like best :) i like cadash for the inquisitor role soooo much but the game gives u so little i have to do allll the work

[soemthingsparkly]

you asked for prompts so uh. how did Boatem's first gig go? where did they play and how did they get it, considering finding a first gig as a small band of young adults would be very difficult.

i will love and cherish nina for the rest of my life. go queen!

Ahhh!! A prompt! Thank you :DD this is awesome!!

Okay.

Okay so, their first gig. Let's see...

I think their first gig would have to be something small and unpaid (obviously).

It wouldn't be until their second year, after they'd moved into Boatem together.

Mumbo had cooked a relatively simple pasta dish and he, Grian, Impulse, and Pearl had been about to eat when Scar enters and slaps a flyer onto the table.

"Battle of the bands!" He decrees. They take a look at the poster. It's pretty much exactly what you'd expect from a battle of the bands poster - a couple of overly pixelated JPGs of electric guitars imposed on a stadium crowd, with a pair of drumsticks crossed beneath a title in an aggressive font that was attempting to be somewhat heavy metal-esque.

Mumbo baulks. "Do you really think we're ready for something like that?" He asks, nervously twirling his spaghetti. His moustache twitches as his lips purse with uncertainty.

Scar brushes off his concerns. "Most undoubtedly! More than even. This will be no more than a warm up for our real gigs."

Impulse issues Mumbo a comforting smile. "We have been practicing together for over a year now. It would be nice to actually put all that work into... Well, practice."

Pearl slaps her hand on the table. "Well, I'm in. Sounds like a blast, if you ask me."

"Yeah, okay," Mumbo says quietly. "Okay, let's, uh... Let's do it then."

Scar cheers and he, Impulse, and Pearl begin discussing their line-up, costumes, set-pieces ("I don't think we'll have the budget for that one, buddy," Impulse says in an attempt to calm Scar down.)

And while they talk, Grian remains silent, eyes set firmly on Mumbo, who is sitting, anxiously, across the table from him.

The man keeps his eyes downcast and hums in agreement when prompted.

Yeah, this isn't okay, Grian thinks.

And he grabs the flier and takes a closer look.

"Hey, Scar?" He says.

"Yes, Grian?"

"Where did you get this poster?"

"The library, from the campus noticeboard, of course."

"Was it, by any chance, in the bin next to the noticeboard?"

There's silence and everyone is staring at Grian. He puts the flier down and shoves a fork full of pasta into his mouth. He jabs his finger at the date, written in small letters beneath the title. "Finals were yesterday."

And all eyes shift to Scar, who looks startled and confused. "What? No, no, they're not for another two months!"

Scar scrambles to take another look at the flier. But as Grian had pointed out, the date of the finals had been and gone.

"You read the date the British way. Finals were the 12th of October, not the 9th of December. Sorry."

And while Grian doesn't exactly enjoy the way Scar slumps in disappointment, he's glad to see Mumbo relax with relief.

"Oh... I guess that explains why they were taking it down then..." Scar mutters sadly.

They're quiet for a while, until Pearl says. "There'll be another chance, right?"

"Yeah," Scar says. "Yeah, of course." He puts on a brave face for his bandmates. "Something even better than a silly battle of the bands. We'll find something. We'll put Boatem on the map."

And Scar folds the flier in half and drops it in the recycling on his way out of the room. He says he's not hungry and disappears to his room.

Later, Grian asks Mumbo in private why he went along with it when it so clearly made him uncomfortable. Mumbo confessed he does want to perform with the band, but the competitive element of the battle of the bands made him want to throw up.

"If I mess up, I can't be the reason the entire band walks away feeling like failures. I just can't do that."

So with this in mind, Grian decides to scope out some alternative venues.

He goes out and returns a few hours later with a page of notes. He sits on Mumbo's bed and tells him about a small bar he found on the edge of town that has an open mic for up and coming bands on the last Friday of each month.

"That way, there's no competition, but the spotlight isn't solely on you or the band. It's just a warm up, yeah?"

And Mumbo is much happier with this. "Yeah, okay. Thanks Gri."

"Yeah, you're welcome, Mum."

"That's... No. Let's not. Don't, please."

When Grian tells Scar about the new findings, Scar is back on his feet in no time. It's kind of remarkable how fast this man bounces back.

"The last Friday of the month? That gives us, what, three weeks?"

"There abouts. If we want to do this month. We have to put a word in with the manager."

"Then what are we waiting for? Let's call 'em. Three weeks is more than enough time. Where's Pearl? I have costume design ideas."

"I'm not wearing a stupid costume!" Grian calls after Scar's back as he darts from his room to Pearl's. Grian rolls his eyes and chuckles. "What an idiot."

And he means it fondly, of course.

So that's how it goes. A little open mic in a run down bar on the edge of town. They get a smattering of applause from the few people that show up and Mumbo only misses a couple notes throughout the entire performance.

And for Grian, it's a lot of fun... He hadn't imagined playing music like this again. There's so few people there, it doesn't matter if he messes up, if he makes himself look like an idiot.

And with his bandmates on stage next to him?

Well, that was nice too.

Really nice.

Thanks anon 💛

[flipcitrus]

Has anyone else found themselves really intrigued wondering just how miracles are supposed to work/the nature of their limitations in this universe given some of the events of S2?

Good Omens Season 2 Spoilers and incoherent ramblings below the cut.

I do have to preface this by saying I’m certain I am waaaaaay overthinking things and I’m incredibly rusty with fictional analysis (If English literature A level classes from 10 years ago count). A part of the reason I’m posting this is I’m hoping someone a bit more coherent and clever might have more articulate thoughts on the subject. I only got into the show a month ago so I’m also still catching up on a lot of series associated material/fan based analysis.

What got me stuck on this particular train of thought was Crowley’s question to Aziraphale in episode 2 along the lines of asking why he didn’t just cast a miracle to ACTUALLY make Nina and Maggie fall in love to cover their backs…I thought Aziraphale would say that if it were picked up upon to do so could potentially indicate he was lying about the ~Jim Miracle~ but he doesn’t, he responds that that’s “not how miracles work” instead. So how do they work?

There seems to be implication there that Aziraphale’s powers are more limited than Crowleys (for example instead of doing so himself in episode 3 he asks Crowley to freeze the surgeon in the minisode so they can talk/whisper in his ear - that just being a minor example vs eg. Crowley stopping time in S1) and I’m in half a mind as to whether that’s literal (crowleys more powerful than Aziraphale / heaven puts a block on certain miraculous acts) or more that he feels more constrained in how he can use them as a representative of heaven (or both)- whether he genuinely can’t perform certain miracles or if he personally avoids any that fall into a category of being a bit morally questionable and lets Crowley do them instead. I feel even more so torn when thinking about Crowley and Aziraphales “half a miracle” between themselves being so notably powerful (though not gonna lie I’m a mushy sod that likes the thought that the power of being besties4life amplified that miracle)

Last off - the ball. Aziraphale goes through the pain staking effort to go around each and every shop to convince the owners to attend the ball meeting later that evening, even offering to part with really valuable books. No miracles, literally just convincing people. Either because he wants them there off their own back or he can’t persuade them via miracle working I assume?

Then, later we see each and every attendee affected by Jane-Austen-itis, knowing dance moves they’ve never learned, their entire mannerisms and vocabulary changing and I wonder whether that was a direct or even Concious effort of Aziraphales to pull off or a subconcious side effect of his being so excited by the whole arrangement especially considering all that build up with the scenes before (If he wanted the shop keepers to attend for their own back and went to all the trouble; why then “hypnotise”/change their behaviour to play characters in the ball once in the shop? If Aziraphale has the ability to make his neighbouring shop keepers play characters in a ball why did he need to go through all that previous build up convincing people to come along? I don’t recall that we’ve ever seen Aziraphale hypnotise and/or wipe a humans memory before (we see him unsuccesfully try to do so later to Maggie and Nina) and you’d think to get a whole room like that reannacting pride and prejudice would take a good bit of power.

I could get into this more - but I’m sure to get off track and start pulling the tin foil hat on about semi related speculative stuff so for now I must snooze. Either way would be cool to hear other people’s thoughts.

[usmsgutterson]

BESTIE HEAR ME OUT. inej soulmate au. thats it. LIKE the colour thing where everything is black and gray until you see your soulmate for the first time, having the same tatto, the first thing they are going to say to you written on your skin (my personal fav), ANYTHING. im a sucker for soulmate au i have so many ideas😫

Monsters- Inej Ghafa

Hi! I can absolutely write this one for you, as a matter of fact, I think it’s quite the adorable request and it just made my brain explode with ideas, so thank you! 

the gif in the fic has nothing to do with the fic, by the way, but I just love it, and I wanted to use it, so I did!

Also, I put a little bit of a spin on the quote: “When everyone knows you're a monster, you needn't waste time doing every monstrous thing.” from the first book, I believe? I can’t quite remember the page number but I’m fairly certain it’s in Six of Crows, if not it’s in Crooked Kingdom!

Fic type- fluff

warnings- mentions of blood, mentions of knives, mentions of guns and slight hinting toward a toxic relationship with your father

It was rumored that everyone in the entire existence of the universe had a soulmate. That the saints at the beginning of the earth found one human too strong, too intimidating, too capable, and thus, split their heart in two, giving each soul a body with two arms, two legs, two eyes, ten fingers, ten toes and half of the soul that they used to have. 

Some called soulmates twin flames, some called them the Kerch, Ravkan or Fjerdan variations of the words, but Inej called them terrifying. The words etched like ink into her wrist, the first words her soulmate would ever say, were daunting ones. Scary ones, ones that made her wish she’d met her soulmate already, simply for the prospect of wrapping them up in a hug and just refusing to let them go. 

“They’re probably fine,” Jesper would assure when he’d catch Inej rubbing the skin on her wrist, tracing the words over and over almost methodically. “I mean, all things considered, they’re probably doing all right for themselves.” 

The words haunted her each and everyday; she’d go to sleep thinking of them, reading them over, wake up and instinctually repeat the process. She’d read them whenever her wrist was in her eyeline, praying to her saints that her soulmate was okay.

“If your soulmate is in any real danger, we’ve got Milo!” Jesper said. “I’m willing to share my emotional support animal.” She was the only one in their tight knit group who’d not found her soulmate yet. Jesper had Wylan, Nina had Matthias, and Kaz didn’t have a soulmark anywhere on his body, as far as anyone knew, at least. 

But one day, Kaz had walked in with someone new at his side. He took the time to introduce you by name as he got you set up alongside Jesper at one of the gambling tables, telling you to keep a watchful eye on the hyperactive crow whilst you played a couple rounds of Makkers Wheel, and you nodded, said you would.

But that was just the first interaction, and Inej hadn’t even introduced herself, didn’t feel like it, simply put, and there were many after. 

But the one that mattered most was when you were in the middle of a plan to rob a wealthy merchant of all that he had going for him, every bit of his money. This merchant happened to be your father, one who worked alongside Jan Van Eck, the very reason you knew Wylan and thus met Kaz and quickly eased into the trusted circle. 

“He’s not a monster,” he was. Inej knew it just as well as you did, knew that you were lying straight through your teeth. “He’s not a monster, Kaz. He’s not you.” There they were. The words inked onto Inejs wrist, the letters she’d traced over a million times before. 

“Monsters don’t always do monstrous things,” you realized it then, too, eyes flicking to your wrist in a quick, almost unnoticeable second. “Some of them look like princes or kings, but really, they’re law abiding criminals.” Ones that give their children gifts meant to belittle them, ones that shoot off backhanded compliments like bullets out of a gun, ones that do monstrous things that don’t seem so monstrous until they’re tallied up on a scoreboard. 

“So we take him down?” You asked. Kaz gave a simple, short nod.

“I’m assuming, since he’s your father and all, you’d like the final kill?” You nodded in turn, thinking it odd of Kaz’s courtesy. He liked getting his hands dirty, from what you knew, hence the nickname Dirtyhands, but you were grateful nonetheless. 

Inej grabbed at her belt. A moment later, she pulled a knife out, pressing it into your hand and offering a smile. “Sankta Lizabeta, for good luck.” You smiled, putting the knife into your coat pocket and bending slightly to give one last hug to Milo the goat--honorary member of The Dregs, per Jespers insistence-- before turning up, offering a smile to Jesper.

“Am I the only one who just witnessed that?” He questioned. Inej and you turned, at the same time, to Kaz, who had the ghost of a smile written on his normally intelligible face.

“You’ve got to go,” he dismissed. “Get the job done tonight, we’ll raid his house tomorrow, and take Inej with you. She makes for good protection.” He’d known the words on Inejs wrist just as well as she had, having watched her run her fingers over them many times over.

Hesitantly, you and Inej began moving slowly for the door, grimacing as you heard Jesper shout: “Speaking of protection, make sure to use it, you two!” followed immediately by the sounds of Nina and Wylan chastising him for the inappropriate comment.

The two of you made your way out of The Slat, slowly growing more comfortable with each other as the minutes drew past. “You’ve named all of your knives after saints,” you mumbled. “Sankta Lizabeta, Sankt Valdmir, Sankt Petyr, even Sankta Alina, and, from my recollection, she’s barely been considered a saint for two years.” Inej just nodded.

“I’m not a very religious person,” you warned. “I won’t go to church or worship anyone too strongly, but if you ask me to, I’ll do it.” 

“Do you name anything of yours?” she asked. “Your weapons?”

“I had a dagger I called Morozova,” you admitted. “I still have it somewhere, I’m sure, but that’s the only weapon I’ve ever named.”

“Ilya Morozova,” she murmured. “Wasn’t he a little insane?” You laughed, daring to reach over and intertwine your hands. Inej almost grew giddy, but contained it within herself by simply moving a fraction of an inch closer to you. 

“I mean, yeah, but don’t judge me! I was thirteen, the Fold was still around! I’d not even glimpsed his journals then!” In those moments, you felt safe and sure that Inej would always protect you, and you knew you always would her. 

[ifuckinglovestvincent]

THE FORTY-FIVE: ST. VINCENT

Sleazy, gritty, grimy – these are the words used to describe the latest iteration of St. Vincent, Annie Clark’s alter ego. As she teases the release of her upcoming new album, ‘Daddy’s Home’, Eve Barlow finds out who’s wearing the trousers now.

Photos: Zackery Michael

Yellow may be the colour of gold, the hue of a perfect blonde or the shade of the sun, but when it’s too garish, yellow denotes the stain of sickness and the luridness of sleaze. On ‘Pay Your Way In Pain’ – the first single from St. Vincent’s forthcoming sixth album ‘Daddy’s Home’ – Annie Clark basks in the palette of cheap 1970s yellows; a dirty, salacious yellow that even the most prudish of individuals find difficult to avert their gaze from. It’s a yellow that recalls the smell of cigarettes on fingers, the tape across tomorrow’s crime scene or the dull ache of bad penetration.

The video for the single, which dropped last Thursday, features Clark in a blonde wig and suit, channeling a John Cassavetes anti-heroine (think Gena Rowlands in Gloria) and ‘Fame’-era Bowie. She twists in front of too-bright disco lights. She roughs up her voice. She sings about the price we pay for searching for acceptance while being outcast from society. “So I went to the park just to watch the little children/ The mothers saw my heels and they said I wasn’t welcome,” she coos, and you immediately recognise the scene of a free woman threatening the post-nuclear families aspiring to innocence. Clark is here to pervert them.

She laughs. “That’s how I feel!” From her studio in Los Angeles, she begins quoting lyrics from Jimi Hendrix’s ‘Red House’. “It’s a blues song for 2021.” LA is a city Clark reluctantly only half calls home, and one that is opposed to her vastly preferred New York. “I don’t feel any romantic attachment to Los Angeles,” she says of the place she coined the song ‘Los Ageless’ about on 2017’s ‘Masseduction’ (“The Los Ageless hang out by the bar/ Burn the pages of unwritten memoirs”).“The best that could be said of LA is, ‘Yeah it’s nice.’ And it is! LA is easy and pleasant. But if you were a person the last thing you’d want someone to say about you is: ‘She’s nice!’”

On ‘Daddy’s Home’, Clark writes about a past derelict New York; a place Los Angeles would suffocate in. “The idea of New York, the art that came out of it, and my living there,” she says. “I’ve not given up my card. I don’t feel in any way ready to renounce my New York citizenship. I bought an apartment so I didn’t have to.” Her down-and-out New York is one a true masochist would love, and it’s sleazy in excess. Sleaze is usually the thing men flaunt at a woman’s expense. In 2021, the proverbial Daddy in the title is Clark. But there’s also a literal Daddy. He came home in the winter of 2019.

On the title track, Clark sings about “inmate 502”: her father. He was sentenced to 12 years in prison for his involvement in a $43m stock fraud scheme. He went away in May 2010. Clark reacted by writing her third breakthrough album ‘Strange Mercy’ in 2011; inspired not just by her father’s imprisonment but the effects it had on her life.“I mean it was rough stuff,” she says. “It was a fuck show. Absolutely terrible. Gut-wrenching. Like so many times in life, music saved me from all kinds of personal peril. I was angry. I was devastated. There’s a sort of dullness to incarceration where you don’t have any control. It’s like a thud at the basement of your being. So I wrote all about it,” she says.

Back then, she was aloof about meaning. In an interview we did that year, she called from a hotel rooftop in Phoenix and was fried from analytical questions. She excused her lack of desire to talk about ‘Strange Mercy’ as a means of protecting fans who could interpret it at will. Really she was protecting an audience closer to home. It’s clear now that the title track is about her father’s imprisonment (“Our father in exile/ For God only knows how many years”). Clark’s parents divorced when she was a child, and they have eight children in their mixed family, some of whom were very young when ‘Strange Mercy’ came out. She explains this discretion now as her method of sheltering them.

“I am protective of my family,” she says. “It didn’t feel safe to me. I disliked the fact that it was taken as malicious obfuscations. No.” Clark wanted to deal with the family drama in art but not in press. She managed to remain tight-lipped until she became the subject of a different intrusion. As St. Vincent’s star continued to rocket, Clark found herself in a relationship with British model Cara Delevingne from 2014 to 2016, and attracted celebrity tabloid attention. Details of her family’s past were exposed. The Daily Mail came knocking on her sister’s door in Texas, where Clark is from.

“Luckily I’m super tight with my family and the Daily Mail didn’t find anybody who was gonna sell me out,” she says. “They were looking for it. Clark girls are a fucking impenetrable force. We will cut a bitch.”

Four years later, Clark gets to own the narrative herself in the medium that’s most apt: music. “The story has evolved. I’ve evolved. People have grown up. I would rather be the one to tell my story,” she says, ruminating on the misfortune that this was robbed from her: a story that writes itself. “My father’s release from prison is a great starting point, right?” Between tours and whenever she could manage, Clark would go and visit him in prison and would be signing autographs in the visitation room for the inmates, who all followed her success with every album release, press clipping and late night TV spot. She joked to her sisters that she’d become the belle of the ball there. “I don’t have to make that up,” she says.

There’s an ease to Clark’s interview manner that hasn’t existed before. She seems ready not just to discuss her father’s story, but to own certain elements of herself. “Hell where can you run when the outlaw’s inside you,” she sings on the title track, alluding to her common traits with her father. “I’ve always had a relationship with my dad and a good one. We’re very similar,” she says. “The movies we like, the books, he liked fashion. He’s really funny, he’s a good time.” Her father’s release gave Clark and her brothers and sisters permission to joke. “The title, ‘Daddy’s Home’ makes me laugh. It sounds fucking pervy as hell. But it’s about a real father ten years later. I’m Daddy now!”

The question of who’s fathering who is a serious one, but it’s also not serious. Clark wears the idea of Daddy as a costume. She likes to play. She joins today’s Zoom in a pair of sunglasses wider than her face and a silk scarf framing her head. The sunglasses come off, and the scarf is a tool for distraction. She ties it above her forehead, attempts a neckerchief, eventually tosses it aside. Clark can only be earnest for so long before she seeks some mischief. She doesn’t like to stay in reality for extensive periods. “I like to create a world and then I get to live in it and be somebody new every two or three years,” she says. “Who wants to be themselves all the time?”

‘Daddy’s Home‘ began in New York at Electric Lady studios before COVID hit and was finished in her studio in LA. She worked on it with “my friend Jack” [Jack Antonoff, producer for Lana Del Rey, Lorde, Taylor Swift]. Antonoff and Clark worked on ‘Masseduction’ and found a winning formula, pushing Clark’s guitar-orientated electronic universe to its poppiest maximum, without compromising her idiosyncrasies. “We’re simpatico. He’s a dream,” she says. “He played the hell outta instruments on this record. He’s crushing it on drums, crushing it on Wurlitzer.” The pair let loose. They began with ‘The Holiday Party’, one of the warmest tracks Clark’s ever written. It’s as inviting as a winter fireplace, stoked by soulful horns, acoustic guitar and backing singers. “Every time they sang something I’d say, ‘Yeah but can you do it sleazier? Make your voice sound like you’ve been up for three days.” Clark speaks of an unspoken understanding with Antonoff as regards the vibe: “Familiar sounds. The opposite of my hands coming out of the speaker to choke you till you like it. This is not submission. Just inviting. I can tell a story in a different way.”

The entire record is familiar, giving the listener the satisfaction that they’ve heard the songs before but can’t quite place them. It’s a satisfying accompaniment to a pandemic that encouraged nostalgic listening. Clark was nostalgic too. She reverted to records she enjoyed with her father: Stevie Wonder’s catalogue from the 1970s (‘Songs In The Key Of Life’, ‘Innervisions’, ‘Talking Book’) and Steely Dan. “Not to be the dude at the record store but it’s specifically post-flower child idealism of the ’60s,” she explains. “It’s when it flipped into nihilism, which I much prefer. Pre disco, pre punk. That music is in me in a deep way. It’s in my ears.”

On ‘The Melting Of The Sun’ she has a delicious time creating a psychedelic Pink Floyd odyssey while exploring the path tread by her heroes Marilyn Monroe, Joni Mitchell, Joan Didion and Nina Simone. It’s a series of beautiful vignettes of brilliant women who were met with a hostile environment. Clark considers what they did to overcome that. “I’m thanking all these women for making it easier for me to do it. I hope I didn’t totally let them down.” Clark is often the only woman sharing a stage with rock luminaries such as Dave Grohl, Damon Albarn and David Byrne, and has appeared to have shattered a male-centric glass ceiling. She’s unsure she’s doing enough to redress the imbalance. “There are little things I can do and control,” she says of hiring women on her team. “God! Now I feel like I should do more. What should I do? It’s a big question. You know what I have seen a lot more from when I started to now? Girls playing guitar.”

If one woman reinvented the guitar in the past decade, it’s Clark. Behind her is a rack of them. The pandemic has taken her out of the wild in which she’s accustomed to tantalising audiences at night with her displays of riffing and heel-balancing. Instead, she’s chained to her desk. Her obsession with heels in the lyrics of ‘Daddy’s Home’ she reckons may be a reflection of her nights performing ‘Masseduction’ in thigh highs. “I made sure that nothing I wore was comfortable,” she recalls. “Everything was about stricture and structure and latex. I had to train all the time to make sure I could handle it.” Is she taking the heels off when live shows return? “Absofuckinglutely not.”

Clark is interested in the new generation. She’s recently tweeted about Arlo Parks and has become a big fan of Russian singer-songwriter Kate NV. “I’m obsessed with Russia,” she says. In a recent LA Times profile, she professed to a pandemic intellectual fixation on Stalin. “Yeah! I mean right now my computer is propped up on stuff. You are sitting on The Gulag Archipelago, The Best Short Stories Of Dostoyevsky andThe Plays Of Chekhov. I’m kinda in it.” The pop world interests Clark, too. She was credited with a co-write on Swift’s 2019 album ‘Lover’. At last year’s Grammys she performed a duet with Dua Lipa. It was one of the queerest performances the Grammys has ever aired. Clark interrupts.

“What about it seemed queer?!”

You know… The lip bite, for one!

“Wait. Did she bite her lip?”

No, you bit your lip.

“I did?!”

Everyone was talking about it. Come on, Annie.

“Serious? I…”

You both waltzed around each other with matching hairdos, making eyes…

“I have no memory of it.”

Frustrating as it may be in a world of too much information, Clark’s lack of willingness to overanalyse every creative decision she makes or participates in is something to treasure. “I want to be a writer who can write great songs,” she says. “I’m so glad I can play guitar and fuck around in the studio to my heart’s desire but it’s about what you can say. What’s a great song? What lyric is gonna rip your guts open. Just make great shit! That’s where I was with this record. That’s all I wanna do with my life.”

More than a decade into St. Vincent, Clark doesn’t reflect. She looks strictly forward. “I’m like a horse with blinders,” she says. She did make an exception to take stock lately when the phone rang. “I saw a +44 and that gets me excited,” she says. “Who could this be?” Well, who was it? “Paul McCartney,” she says, in disbelief. “Anything I’ve done, any mistake I’ve made, somehow it’s forgiven, assuaged. I did something right in my life if a fucking Beatle called me.”

Now there’s a get out of jail free card if ever she needed one.

Daddy’s Home by St. Vincent is out May 14, 2021.

[broughttoyoubytheletterf]

Telling the Family (ficlet)

At one time I was going to write an entire series of how different people react to finding out Elizabeth is running for President but this is the only one I ever finished. I’m cleaning out old files, so here have it. 

“You have to talk to your family you know.”

“Hmmm?” Henry continues to keep his eyes on the book in front of him.

Elizabeth plops down on the other side of the bed, disturbing Henry and causing him to give her an annoyed look. “I’m just saying, you should have a conversation with them.”

“What are you talking about?”

“The campaign,” she responds simply. She settles into bed, pulling the covers up to her waist and grabbing a policy book from the floor.

He stares at her, agape, “Really? You’re just going to throw that out there and leave it to me? Isn’t it a little early to tell them anyway?”

She avoids his gaze and flips open the binder. “Give them some time to process everything, you know Maureen will have thoughts she needs to share. Plus, it’s going to be an invasion of their privacy as well.”

He huffs. “Well shouldn’t you be there when we talk to them then?”

“No.”

When she doesn’t elaborate further, he tugs her reading material out of her hands. “You’re telling me that you’re ready to face the scrutiny of the entire country but you won’t come with me to talk my family.”

“Yes,” she says blithely. She looks thoughtful, “What do you think the chances are that Maureen votes for me?”

He laughs. “Eh, I’d say about 75%, she’s mellowed out a bit since Dad died. So there you go, another reason to come with me, get some experience stumping for votes with intransigent constituents.”

Mulishly she says, “I don’t wanna.”

“Petulant isn’t a good look on you Elizabeth.”

She side-eyes him. “I’m not being petulant, I’m being realistic, I think the chances are better that she votes for me if I’m not there. Also, you’re lying, you like all my looks.” She laughs and straddles his lap.

He grips her waist and smiles. “You’re right.” He leans forward and blows a raspberry on her neck. “But you are coming with me.”

Two weeks later she is sitting on a couch next to Henry at Maureen’s house. She is bouncing Maria on her knees and the four-year old is squealing in delight. She still doesn’t know how Henry conned her into coming and got it to actually happen. She’s dealing with no less than three separate international incidents that could spiral into crises at any moment, but Henry hadn’t let her use that as an excuse. She’s dragged half the State department with her it feels like, Jay is in DC holding down the fort but she has Blake, Kat, Nina, and Daisy in the motorcade out front and Matt is down the street at a coffee shop feverishly writing a speech.

Henry is tapping his feet next to her. He had been uncharacteristically quiet on the drive here, though that could have been because she spent most of the time on the phone, doing her best to restrain herself from yelling at her entire Bureau of East Asian Affairs. She’s not usually a yeller, so maybe Henry is not the only one nervous about this conversation.

Maureen comes back into the room, balancing a tray of glasses. “I have coffee for everyone, but I’m afraid I only have regular creamer, none of that flavored stuff.” She looks pointedly at Elizabeth as she sets her load down. Elizabeth barely keeps herself from rolling her eyes, she asked for vanilla creamer once, a decade ago, and Maureen still likes to act like it was the height of privilege. The child on her lap is getting restless, so she puts her down and she runs off to play.

After everyone is settled into their seats with their drinks of choice, Maureen breaks the now heavy silence. “So is there a particular reason you gathered us all here? Is one of you dying or do you just like to see your subjects scurry?”

Elizabeth lets out a breath, clearly Maureen is feeling particularly intractable, which does not bode well for this discussion, but she also knows that the other woman mostly gets that way when she’s scared. She responds quickly, “Both of us are fine, as are the kids, they send their love by the way.” It’s almost imperceptible, but Maureen relaxes. “The reason you wanted to talk to everyone, all at once, is because…” she rehearsed twelve different was to say this but she still feels unprepared. Henry reaches over and squeezes her hand.

As if saved by the bell she hears the front door open, and when she looks over Kat and Blake are standing there, wringing their hands. She looks at them expectantly. Kat grimaces, “Apologies all for interrupting,” she focuses her attention on Elizabeth, “Ma’am, I’m sorry, but we just heard back from Chen’s office, he says they’re moving forward with their plans, immediately, they’ve already started..”

Elizabeth interrupts, her face turns murderous, “Get me Chen on SVTC now.” She might yell that last word. She stands up, “I swear, China is going to be begging us to sell Taiwan drones by the time I lay out the alternatives, which reminds me, Blake let Russell know I am 100% behind repositioning the fifth fleet, maybe some military posturing is just what we need, remind them that we have our own array of antiship missiles and that they do not want to get into a damn shooting war with us. Especially over some fucking drones.” She stalks over to the doorway. Kat looks taken aback, Elizabeth rarely curses at work, or ever. She doesn’t even want to look back and see what Henry’s family looks like.

She purposefully softens her tone, though she feels like preventing World War III, for the fifth time this year, merits some coarse language. She gestures towards Blake who is already on the phone, “Tell Russell I think Conrad should call Li. Ask if he wants me on the call.” Blake nods. “And I swear if this is the Assistant Secretary’s fault again, I’m firing her, I don’t care whose niece she is.” She slams the front door behind her.

Henry stares at the closed door for a moment, and sends up a quick prayer for peace, both for the world and in his family. He turns back towards his family, who look a little aghast. He’s not surprised, Elizabeth has done her best to not talk about work around them, and she definitely never lets her temper show like that. He smiles in what he hopes is a disarming way. “So, that might take a bit, so why don’t we talk about something else? Shane, how’s the new job going?”

Shane starts to respond, but Maureen stops him, “I’m not going to wait around while Elizabeth is off starting wars, so just tell us whatever it is you wanted to tell us Henry and then you can both gallivant back to DC.” Maureen’s husband squeezes her shoulder in support and Erin and Shane are purposefully avoiding his gaze so he imagines that he isn’t going to be able to put this off until Elizabeth gets back.

“This is really more her thing than mine, so it would be best if she could tell you.” Maureen glares at him. “Okay, okay, we just wanted to talk to you guys about some changes in our life, changes that might effect you, though we’ll do our best to prevent that.” They all shift nervously. “Well you’ve probably heard the rumors and speculation, but we wanted to let you know it’s true, Elizabeth has decided to run. She won’t be announcing for a while yet, we’re thinking in about four months, but we wanted to let you know now.”

They stare at him blankly, until Erin asks, uncertainty in her voice, “Run for what?”

He almost laughs, because he forgot for a moment that there is a whole world that doesn’t follow politics obsessively, that doesn’t spend every second enmeshed in world affairs. “President,” he responds simply.

That sends them all atwitter and there’s lots of cross-talk and yelling and accusations. He spends the next 45 minutes fielding questions, from Elizabeth’s position on abortion (he tells them they’ll have to ask her, he’s well aware his wife is ardently pro-choice, but he’s not stepping on that landmine before it’s necessary) to, once the kids wander back in, whether that means they can get free tickets to football games.

Elizabeth slips back in, she looks marginally more relaxed, so he takes that to mean there are no nuclear missiles currently incoming. Maureen spots her first and pins her with a glare. “So I hear you’ve decided you want to be an actual queen.”

Elizabeth moves further into the house and resumes her seat on the couch next to Henry. “Well democratically elected is the plan,” she says lightly and reaches forward to grab her now cold coffee. Maureen guffaws. “And really that’s only if I win, which is still a relative long-shot.”

“Once again you’re only thinking of yourself.” Oddly, Henry notes, Maureen’s voice doesn’t have its usual venom.

Elizabeth takes a sip out of her cup. “I like to think I’m thinking of the greater good, how to ensure a better future for our country and the world. Believe you me this isn’t something I sought out, I never thought I’d do this.” Henry struggles to hide his smile, because Elizabeth sounds exactly like a politician, she doesn’t think she’s ready, but in moments like this he sees it. And if he calls her a politician to her face he won’t have sex for a month.

[inthelonelycoolbeforedawn]

tw: mentions of past animal abuse (nothing graphic and not portrayed in the fic itself)

Harringrove April Day 10: Peaches

Steve couldn't contain a smile as he stepped out onto the deck. Billy was sprawled in their double lounge chair, sunglasses on, Lemmy and Cookie flopped next to him.

"Hey," Steve said. "You gonna sleep all day?"

"Got bored waiting for you." Flashing a grin, Billy hooked his arm around Steve's waist and tugged. "C'mere. Celebrate with me."

"Nuh-uh," Steve said, planting one hand on the chair to regain his balance. "Dogs in the house, then I'll celebrate with you."

Billy heaved a dramatic sigh. "Fine. Hurry up."

Laughing, Steve called Lemmy and Cookie inside and slid the door shut. He felt a bit guilty about disturbing their nap, but he and Billy hadn't had much time to themselves in the last couple of weeks.

Besides, they had a lot to celebrate.

After eight years in L.A. they were both ready for a change. They weren't sure exactly what they wanted, but when they found a house away from the city on three acres of land, with a big yard for the dogs and an easy drive to the beach, they decided to buy it. They cashed in their savings and the last bit of settlement money from Starcourt, signed the papers making the house theirs, and officially moved in two days ago.

"Sorry, guys," he said, scratching the silky black-and-white fur between Cookie's ears. "We'll make it up to you. You want some treats?"

Both Lemmy's and Cookie's ears perked up at the word treat. But where Lemmy's bright eyes and barely wagging tail were his only indications of excitement, Cookie was practically bouncing up and down on her three legs, her entire body wriggling. Steve laughed and gave them both another pat before reaching for the box of dog biscuits.

A flash of movement by the window caught his eye, and his grip on the box instinctively tightened as he looked out to see what it was.

There was a small brown-and-white pony in their driveway, its thick mane flopping into its eyes as it snuffled at the ground.

Steve watched it for a minute, then went back to get Billy. "Um, Billy? Come see this."

Billy pulled his sunglasses off. "What?"

He hurried after Steve, and Steve pointed out the window.

"The hell?" Billy said.

"We should try to catch him," Steve said. "He could get hit by a car or something if he's running around loose like that."

"Yeah," Billy said. "I guess we can get him tied up somewhere and call animal control."

They went out the side door so they were ahead of the pony. It ignored them, taking a few steps and dropping its head again to mouth at some weeds.

"Here, uh - " Steve frowned. "Boy? Girl? Horse? Here, horsey, nice horsey."

"It's not a dog," Billy said. "Let's just try grabbing him. He doesn't look very fast."

They took a few cautious steps towards it. The pony lifted its head, nostrils flaring, but didn't move.

Steve and Billy inched closer.

The pony snorted and broke into a trot. Steve and Billy lunged for it, but that made it run faster. They stopped so they wouldn't chase it onto the road and watched it.

"Maybe he's hungry," Billy said. "Do we have anything he would eat?"

"Oh, yeah!" Steve spoke louder than he'd meant to. The pony looked up and moved farther away. "Oops." Lowering his voice again, he continued. "Carrots. I think horses like carrots. Go get them, babe." 

Once Billy returned with their longest dog leash and a bag of carrots, they each took one.

"Here, pony," Steve said.

"You hungry, little guy?" Billy said.

The pony looked at them, tail swishing.

They crept towards it, getting closer than they had before. The pony was watching them intently.

"Nice pony," Steve said, almost whispering. "Who's a good pony?"

"Steve," Billy said, his own voice quiet. "Go right."

They split off, approaching the pony from both sides. The pony stomped its foot but didn't move. They were almost close enough to grab it.

Holding his breath, Steve stretched his arm out a little farther. The pony snorted again, then reached out to take the carrot from his hand. Billy grabbed its halter while it was chewing.

"Got you," he said.

The pony flinched and quickly backed up a couple of steps, but when Steve grasped the other side of its halter, it stopped and stood, trembling.

"Hey, it's okay," Billy said. "You're okay."

"Good pony," Steve said.

Slowly and carefully, they looped the leash through one of the halter rings and secured it with the clip.

Now that it was caught, the pony seemed willing to follow them. They led it to the deck and tied the leash around a post.

Steve gave the pony a tentative pat on the neck. "One of us should probably stay here. Keep an eye on him."

"I will," Billy said. "Just, maybe grab some water for him? And the carrots?"

"Oh, yeah," Steve said. "All that fur, he's probably thirsty."

Billy grinned. "You know, he reminds me of Henderson, with all that hair in his eyes."

"He does not look like Dustin," Steve said, although he secretly agreed.

He retrieved the bag of carrots, then filled a big cooking pot at the kitchen sink and managed to carry it outside without spilling any. The pony stood quietly as Billy worked at a tangle in its shaggy mane.

"Wow," Steve said. "He's really calmed down."

"Yeah," Billy said.

"Well." Steve paused, not sure why he suddenly felt like he was doing something wrong. "I'm gonna go call. I'll be back soon."

Lemmy and Cookie crowded around him, and he petted them absently as he flipped through the phone book.

"It must have an owner," he said. "I bet it belongs to some little kid who'll be really happy to see their pony again, right, guys?"

Cookie licked his hand and Lemmy's tail beat against the floor.

Steve sighed. "Right."

He lifted the receiver and dialed the number for animal control.

A few phone calls later he headed back outside. He found Billy sitting in front of the pony, stroking its nose, a soft smile on his lips. The pony's head was lowered almost to his lap, its eyes half-closed.

It reminded him of the times he'd come home to find Billy and Lemmy, napping or reading or watching TV, Billy's hand resting on Lemmy's scarred side and Lemmy's massive, brindled head resting on Billy's scarred chest.

He stood there a minute, watching, before sitting down next to them.

Billy glanced over. "I gave him more carrots. Guess he's happy."

"Yeah, looks like," Steve said. "Oh, and uh, it's actually a girl horse. Her name's Peaches."

"Peaches?" Billy repeated. "Figures it'd be something stupid."

"I don't know, it's kind of cute," Steve said.

Billy stopped petting Peaches and turned to face him. "So. I guess that means you found her owner?"

"Yeah." Steve picked at the hem of his shorts as he spoke. "Animal control said there was a missing horse reported, and put me in touch with her, and - anyway, she's coming to pick her up."

"Oh." Billy looked away. "That was fast."

They sat in silence until the dogs barking and tires crunching on the driveway alerted them to Peaches' owner's arrival.

Steve squeezed Billy's hand, then got up to greet her. He came around the corner of the house just as a young woman climbed out of a pickup truck with a trailer attached, holding a halter and a thick, neatly coiled rope.

"Hi," the woman called. "I'm Nina. I'm here for Peaches."

"I'm Steve." He shook hands with her, then gestured towards the yard. "She's out back."

"So, you're new here?" Nina said as they walked.

"Yeah," Steve said. "We just moved, actually. How'd you know?"

"It's been empty for a while." She smiled. "I drive this way a lot. Our place is only a couple miles from here."

Billy was still sitting with Peaches when they rounded the corner, but he stood up when he saw them. Steve hurried to his side as Nina introduced herself to Billy, then turned to the pony.

"Peaches!" she said. "Hi, sweet girl. Oh, you scared us."

She gave the pony a quick once-over. Satisfied, she clipped the rope to Peaches' halter and handed the dog leash to Steve.

"Thank you for taking such good care of her," she said with a warm smile. "We were worried sick when she got loose. She's had such a tough time, poor girl."

"What happened?" Steve asked.

Nina's smile faded, her lips tightening into a thin line. "Her last owners weren't very nice to their animals. She developed back problems and couldn't be ridden anymore so they just threw her out in a pasture and left her to fend for herself. Luckily someone called us before it was too late."

"She's a rescue?" Billy said softly.

"Yes," Nina said. "Honestly, I'm surprised she let you catch her. She's still skittish around strangers." She patted the pony's shoulder. "She must like you two."

"Well." Steve ran a hand through his hair. "At least she's safe now, right?"

"Oh, she'll for sure have a home with us if she needs it," Nina said. "But we're a horse rescue. New horses are always coming in and space can be a problem. So ideally our goal is to get all our animals adopted out." She gave Peaches' shoulder another pat. "It might be difficult to find a good home for Peaches, though. She's a sweetheart, but most people want a horse they can ride."

Steve glanced at Billy, who was fidgeting with his ring and staring somewhere past Nina, jaw clenched.

"Hmm." Steve tried to sound casual, fighting to hold back an eager smile. "You know, I think I might know a place."

*

Steve and Billy stood at the fence, arms crossed over the top board, watching Peaches graze while Lemmy and Cookie frolicked in the far corner of the pasture.

Nina had agreed to let them adopt Peaches on the condition they volunteer at the rescue to learn how to take care of her properly. Nina, her family, and the other volunteers were glad to help with everything from answering questions to building the fence and a small barn on their property. They'd made several new friends by the time they were ready to bring Peaches home.

She'd settled in quickly, making friends with the dogs and spending her days grazing and playing. She loved being groomed, and Steve had teased Billy a few times about him spending more time on Peaches' hair than his own now.

Steve and Billy had settled in too. They'd used some of the extra land to plant a garden. Steve converted the garage into a woodworking shop and with a bigger space to work in, he started experimenting with larger pieces. Billy still surfed whenever he could. They took the dogs to the beach and discovered a few new favorite restaurants. It was everything they'd hoped for when they bought the house.

"I was talking to Mrs. Cooper today," Billy said, breaking the silence. "Her goats are having their babies, and I guess there's a lot of them this year. She said we could have a couple if we want."

"Goats?" Steve was so surprised he wasn't sure what else to say.

"Yeah," Billy said. "We've got room. They'd be buddies for Peaches, and we could sell goat milk and stuff eventually."

"Huh," Steve said. "Goats." He shrugged. "Why not?"

Billy grinned. "Great. I'll tell her we'll take 'em."

Steve grinned back, and surrounded by their dogs and their pony and their own happily-ever-after, he and Billy kissed in the soft spring twilight.

[pakchoys]

on that note, do you have any edling fic recs? 👀

this would be a lot easier if i bookmarked all the fics i read. huh

i haven’t actively read any since the days when i consumed edling at a horrifying rate to ease the suffering of being fifteen. obviously there are the ones i wrote as noodlebunny on ao3, but those are a dumpster fire, good god

the ones i saved are probably ones you’ve read if you’ve spent any time on the edling tag at all, soooo……… can i interest you in some meagre edling dug up from my old fma files? it’s a modern au where ed adopts nina, alternatively titled Ed Fights A Twelve Year Old Then Meets His Future Boyfriend

Words: 1.6k

TW for implied child abuse

Edward watches Nina from a bench at the edge of the play park. He shifts his grip on his paper cup while Nina moves from the slide to the monkey bars. There was a time where he would have been up there with her, arms raised and ready if she fell; now that Nina’s seven years old, however, she’s a self-proclaimed big girl who can tackle the monkey bars herself. It’s good, seeing her so independent.

If only Ed’s heart wouldn’t plummet into his stomach every time she so much as slips.

It can’t be helped. Al calls him an over protective mother hen; Ed calls himself sensible, thank you kindly.

Nina clears the monkey bars without a hitch. From the top of the unholy metal playpark structure of death, she gives Ed a winning smile and a wave, sending her two braids flying. Ed waves back, adding a thumbs up for good measure.

His phone pings. Ed fishes it out of his jacket.

Al’s texted, Want to see the cat I saw on campus today??? followed by a string of cat emojis dispersed with hearts.

not really, Ed replies, a smile tugging at him because he knows Al knows he’s lying.

Oops, too late, Al says. The cat’s cute, sort of. Ed doesn’t really get the beasts, but Al’s crazy for them and so is Nina, which means it’s such a damn nightmare when Al encourages her.

demon gremlin creature, Ed sends.

He’s so preoccupied with watching the dots as Al types that he doesn’t hear Nina until she’s crying.

His phone is left abandoned on the bench as he sprints towards her, and oh god, she’s on the ground—what if something’s broken? What if she hit her head, what if—what if she’s hurt bad just because Ed couldn’t keep an eye on her, not for five damn minutes—what if they take her away—

Not until he’s stopping next to her does Ed realise that there’s another girl there too. She’s already helping Nina sit up, her crying has already beginning to taper into little sniffles.

“Nina,” Ed says gently, “Are you okay? Where does it hurt?”

“‘M fine, big brother.” She looks up at him through her tears, as stoic as a seven year old in yellow dungarees can be. Too brave, too willing to hide her pain. “I fell off the climbing wall. It’s just a scrape.”

He gingerly checks her knee over and, yeah, it’s just a sluggishly bleeding cut but there’s sure to be bruising. The plasters and disinfectant are all back at the apartment.

“Oh, here, I can help!”

In what Alphonse fondly dubs as Big Brother Panic, Ed had completely forgotten the girl who helped Nina up. She looks maybe a few years older than Nina, but she’s short and her black hair is in two massive buns so it’s hard to tell. Rifling through her pink backpack, she pulls out a box of plasters and antiseptic salve.

“You just carry that around with you?” Ed asks flatly.

The little girl, previously so sweet to Nina, shoots him a cold glare. “What’s it to you, shortie?”

“Wh—Hey! You’re like, ten! Shortie! Shortie?! I’m a damn giant next to you!”

“Yeah, next to me.” She rolls her eyes. “Not saying much, is it? And I’m twelve, so watch it, or I’ll cut you down another inch.”

Ed’s in half a mind to pick Nina up and nope the fuck out of here. ‘Roasted by a twelve year old’ wasn’t on his schedule. He does the roasting, dammit.

“Big brother, calm down,” says Nina. “You’re being silly.”

Oh, Ed woes the day this doe-eyed girl wrapped him around her little finger.

“Right. Sorry, kiddo.”

“Anyway, I’m Mei,” says the demon in the body of a girl with a pink backpack. “I’m gonna be a doctor someday, so I can help you out.”

“I’m Nina! This is my big brother, Edward. He’s grumpy right now but he’s really the best.”

“Hm.” Mei narrows her eyes at him. “We’ll see.”

He will not stick his tongue out at a child. He will not stick his tongue out at a child.

To her credit, Mei is efficient and gentle about dressing Nina’s cut. She’s got excellent bedside manner too, and by the end of it Nina’s tears are all gone and she’s warmed to Mei like a new best friend. Not all kids are good with younger kids, and Ed’s silently impressed.

“Are you out here alone?” Ed asks as he helps Nina up. Not that Central in the middle of the day is especially dangerous.

“Naw, I’m with my brother. He went to get us ice cream, and then I saw Nina fall down, so I came over to help.”

“Nice of you.”

“Yeah, I’m a nice person.” Mei shrugs her backpack on. “We can’t all be, I suppose.”

“Hey kid, is that supposed to mean something—“

“Big brother Ed, can we get ice cream?” Nina clings very suddenly to Ed’s automail arm, tugging enthusiastically. She’s always been casual about his prosthetics. It’s nice to have someone who doesn’t give it a second glance, even if that someone is a tiny child begging for more sweets.

“I guess so,” ponders Ed, pretending to debate it. “You have been pretty brave today. And it’s hot out. But try be more careful playing next time, okay?”

“‘Kay! Ice cream?”

“Sure.”

“Yay! You’re the best, big brother!”

Ed can’t help but notice Mei watching them strangely. He’s sure they must look strange and not related at all, what with Ed’s Xerxian complexion. Whatever.

“In that case, come meet my brother,” Mei says. “He’s probably waiting for me at the ice cream place. Havoc’s, you know the one?”

“We went there for my birthday!” Nina’s bouncing now. Ed’s whole arm shakes.

“Well, come on then. I have a feeling my bro’s gonna like you.” Mei looks at him funny as she says it. Ed does not like this child.

It’s busy out on such a sunny day. Ed gets a few stares at his arm, and he almost, almost regrets going out in a t-shirt. Then Nina holds his hand tighter, beaming up at him, and he breathes easier.

Now if only he could bring himself to wear shorts too.

“There he is,” says Mei as the ice cream place comes into view. “Ah, jeez, he’s shirtless again.”

“Wait, what?” says Ed.

Mei ignores him in favour of stalking up to a guy about Ed’s age, nineteen or maybe older, who is indeed entirely shirtless. Ed looks furiously away.

“Hey, you dolt!” Mei near-shouts, drawing looks from bystanders. “Put your shirt on in public! You’re so embarrassing, Ling, I can’t believe we’re related.”

“Aw, is my baby sister embarrassed?” Ling chuckles and ruffles her hair, wincing as his hand is slapped away. “It’s hot. I’m just airing out!”

“It’s public indecency, if you’re looking to get arrested again. Where’s our ice cream?”

“Oh, that. It’s a funny story, you know…”

“You ate it?! Again?”

“Ahahah…”

“Buy me another!”

“I would, I would! But that was the last change I had…”

“Ugh! Next time I’m going with Lan Fan and you can’t come.”

“Hey, hey, it’s not my fault you took so long! Chill!”

“I was helping out a girl with a cut knee, so don’t give me that crap.”

Ling seems to notice them, then. He pushes his floppy black hair away and gives Ed a winning grin, sticking his hand out to shake. Ed cringes; he’s gonna have to use his automail hand, and that makes people act so annoyingly awkward.

Ling just grips his hand without missing a beat, shaking firmly.

“I’m Ling!”

“… Ed. This is Nina.”

“Hiya, Nina!” Ling bends down slightly to wave. “Wow, I love your braids. Stylish.”

“Thanks!” Nina chirps, encouraged out of her shell by Ling’s friendliness. She’s not what Ed would call a shy child, but there was a period where she was so withdrawn Ed worried she’d never recover from what her bastard of a father did to her.

Tried to do.

“Your sister’s right,” says Ed to Ling. “You should put a shirt on.”

Way to make friends, idiot. So friendly and approachable.

Ling stares; Mei snorts. Ed contemplates his own terrible, off putting personality.

Then Ling waggles his eyebrows and says, “What, don’t like what you see?”

“Wh— Hey—!” He’s spluttering and bright red and say something! “No, it’s terrible! I hate it! Put a damn shirt on!”

Not that!

He doesn’t dare look Ling in the eyes as he briskly scoops Nina up, much to her indignation, and escapes into the ice cream parlour. He just knows the shirtless idiot is watching him.

“Big brother, can we see them again? They’re so cool!”

“No, they’re not, Nina. They’re the worst and we hate them. Pick a flavour.”

“But what about Mei? She doesn’t get any ice cream!”

“Too bad.”

Oh, no. He’s done it now. Nina’s eyes begin to water and Ed’s heart clenches, already knowing he’s done for.

“Hey, kiddo, I’m sorry.”

“If Mei doesn’t get any, I won’t have any. ‘S not fair if I’m the only one…”

Ed closes his eyes. His counts to three. He faces the facts.

“If that’s the case…”

—

Later, when they all have ice cream out of Ed’s pocket and stupid Ling is wearing a stupid shirt, Ed adamantly pretends not to hear Mei lean over and say,

“See, I told you my brother would like you.”

—

A/N: ED STOP CUSSING IN FRONT OF CHILDREN

[irwingiggling]

friends of friends. | pt. 1

A/N: Sooo guess who’s back with a new fic?! Please let me know what you guys think, and if you want me to continue this - I have lots of ideas for it! If you enjoyed it, please give it a like so I know people are interested in reading more :) The band does exist in this fic, but it’s more of a casual thing and none of the boys are famous. In this fic I tried to really focus on the characterization and in improving my writing, so yeah this is my little passion project rn while I’m in quarantine. [Also a little shoutout to @cakesunflower​, I don’t know her at all but her fics (wglylm, quiet hours, etc.) and her writing is honestly incredible and she was one of the many awesome writers on here who inspired me to start this. :)]

Word Count: 2,100+

Rating: PG-13 (mentions of alcohol, swearing)

---

"Who's Calum?" Audrey was perched over a tall wooden stool, hands around a mug of steaming hot coffee. Her short brown hair landed just above her shoulders, cascading perilously towards her coffee as she stared down her friend, a sly smile on her face.

"Just a friend of a friend," Rose replied with a shrug.

Audrey's eyebrows arched in response, unsatisfied with Rose's answer.

"No seriously. I barely know him, I met him the other day at some get together Nina dragged me to."

At mention of the other girl, a smile crept onto Audrey's face. "Damn, Nina. How's she doing?" The three were close friends back in university, sharing a dorm for two years. But after school, they'd all started to go their separate ways. Nina was in public relations. A true socialite, she loved meeting new people, and could keep up conversation for hours. Since landing her new job as an assistant for some small music company, she'd managed to drag Rose along to various parties and social gatherings with increasing frequency. The two lived on opposite sides of town in Boston, but remained decently close despite this. On the other hand, Audrey had moved back home to Michigan after school, and the two didn't see her very often at all.

"She's good. Still a true extrovert." Rose said with a gentle shake of her head.

"Gotta love that girl. She was always a go-getter." Audrey laughed, taking a sip of the creamy drink.

In contrast to Nina, Rose would describe herself as a simple person. She had her little apartment, her work, a well-stocked supply of coffee, and her dog, Olive - who she'd somehow managed to sneak under her apartment's 60lb weight limit. Everything else was extra, but as long as she had those few essentials, she was perfectly content. Though as a recent university grad who was still working part-time at a coffee shop, and taking whatever freelance work she could on the side, she didn't have a lot of room for extravagances anyway. In contrast, Audrey found a job as a radio broadcaster back home right out of school, and could now afford to make the flight down to see her girls.

"Anyways don’t try and change the subject, you haven't had a man in your life in ages!" Audrey exclaimed, teasingly poking a finger against the arm of Rose's blue sweater.

Rose gave her head a faint shake, smiling gently. She had no doubt Nina had already recounted the entire work gathering to Audrey over one of her long-winded FaceTime calls. Nina had a way of getting carried away with the stories she told, which likely meant their distant observation of Calum had morphed into a much closer brush than it actually was.

----

She vaguely remembered him from that last work event. He was easily recognizable by his dark curly hair, tanned skin, and youthful appearance, especially since the vast majority of others mingling looked to be in their late 30s. Rose caught drifts of conversations about sales and pitches and various public relations-related stuff. She had caught him looking over at her during one of the speeches. When she met his gaze he'd turned away.

"Who's that?" she asked, tugging lightly on Nina's arm. Nina was in the middle of rambling about some publication technique to boost online views.

"Oh, him? That's Calum. He's a member of one of the newer bands the company's signed. Seems decent, haven't really had a chance to chat with him yet."

Calum.

She never got the guts to go over and talk to him that night, even though he looked like one of the only people who was actually having a decent time, chatting animatedly with an equally tall guy around his age, drink in hand. Instead, she stayed by Nina's side, letting her talkative friend fill the silence and introduce her to many people whose names she would inevitably forget.

---

It was two weeks later, and Nina had caught Rose off guard yet again, getting her to agree to another one of her work parties before Rose even really knew what she was saying yes to. The term ‘party’ was an exaggeration, to say the least. Only the watered-down drinks and the 70s hits playing at a whisper in the background gave the faintest suggestion that this was a party. Rather, it was a way for people at Nina’s company to schmooze with those from other nearby labels and PR companies, collaborating on techniques, getting insider information on new signings and album releases. And Nina was so thrilled at the prospect of sharing her knowledge and making new friends, that Rose felt obligated to say yes. However, not knowing a thing about the music industry or public relations made it difficult to relate to any of the conversations, so she often found herself glued to Nina’s side, maintaining an appropriate amount of nods and smiles to the people Nina talked to, waiting for the agonizingly slow clock to tick down. She sharply reminded herself to not give in to Nina’s pleas again, that this would be the last time she would let her Friday nights turn out like this.

Letting her thoughts wander, she remembered catching a vague glimpse of the dark-haired man earlier on in the night, but she hadn't seen him at all in the past half-hour, and figured he'd gone home. She wished she could leave too, but sadly Nina was her ride, which meant she'd be here for a while longer. By this time Rose was frankly sick of Nina's incessant chatter, and with feigning enjoyment in meeting random people she truly had no interest in.

She politely excused herself from the conversation, and made her way towards the kitchen, in the hopes she could scrounge up another drink to get her through the night. Taking a look around the kitchen, she let out a small sigh when she didn't see any alcohol. However, her eyes landed on the same curly-haired man from earlier. So this was where he'd been hiding out. His cheeks flushed a vague tinge of pink at seeing he'd been discovered, but he let out a relieved breath when he saw that it was her. One of the only other people here around his age, who didn't seem like she'd want to chatter endlessly about the management side of music.

"Hey, I remember you." He stood facing her, a gentle smile on his face. "Calum," he introduced, taking a hand out of his pocket and extending it towards her.

"Rose," she replied, lips curving into a smile as she shook his hand, his larger one temporarily enveloping hers.

"Nice to meet you," he nodded. "Do you work here?" He was sure if he'd seen her before that he would have remembered.

"No, I'm actually a struggling arts major," she confessed with a small chuckle. "My friend dragged me here. Nina."

"Oh," Calum nodded, eyes flashing lightly in recognition of a name he couldn't quite place. "The really… social one?" He asked hesitantly towards the end, unsure exactly how to phrase it.

"Yeah, you can’t miss her,” Rose said, giving her head a small shake in amusement. She felt a sense of relief as Calum's light chuckle flooded her ears.

"So I'm kind of hiding out here right now," he began, looking past her for a second to the crowd of people mingling past the doorway, a sigh of relief leaving his lips as he confirmed none of the guests were interested in pulling him into another conversation.

She chuckled lightly, moving to place her empty glass near the sink. "Do you come to these kinds of things often?"

"Not really," he shrugged, taking another sip of his drink. "But the label wanted me to make an appearance. Somehow I keep drawing the short end of the stick this month for that kind of stuff."

She laughed, glad she didn't have to pretend this was an enjoyable party.

"It's kinda.. stuffy?" he added, nose scrunching at the word.

She nodded in complete understanding. "Yeah. A lot of middle-aged record and publication people. Not exactly my crowd either."

"Tell me about it," Calum sighed, taking a long sip of his fruity drink. "And this was all I could find," he added half-heartedly, raising the glass.

She chuckled, trying to muffle her amusement at the strange drink that didn't seem to quite fit with his look. The vividly coloured mini umbrella and bright purple liquid contrasted sharply with the metal rings that adorned his tanned fingers and the tattoos peeking out from his shirt collar.

Noting her amusement with his drink of choice, his eyes began to light up, and he chuckled along with her.

"I figured," she said, fighting to contain her smile. This only served to make him more amused, a full-blown laugh bubbling out from his full, pink lips. His laugh seemed too pure, too alive for this subdued party.

They stood in silence for a couple beats, letting the low buzz from the various people in the room flood their ears again, before Calum drained the rest of his drink in a gulp. "Did you wanna get out of here?" He asked, setting his empty glass down on the counter beside hers, gesturing vaguely to the direction of the front door.

"Oh!" She wasn't able to mask her surprise, eyebrows rising and a faintly amused but apologetic look on her face. "Wow, um… I think you're great, I really do, but that's just not quite something that I'm-"

His eyebrows furrowed in confusion at her response. He tilted his head slightly to one side, lips parted, as he tried to figure her out. Eventually his lips curved into a smile and a gentle laugh erupted from his mouth as he realized where she was going with this. "Shit, I meant food. My bad."

And then she was blushing profusely, wanting to melt into the floor in embarrassment because how could she fuck that up? She sighed, letting out a small whine of contempt, and when she finally got the courage to look back up at him, he was watching her, eyes sparkling. He dragged his bottom lip between his teeth, trying half-heartedly to contain the smile that still graced his face at her expense.

"Yeah, ok." She nodded, letting out a small chuckle. "I can do food."

---

She didn't quite know how she ended up at the fast-food place at 10pm, seated in a tiny booth across from Calum, watching the curly-haired man munching happily away on fries, their knees occasionally knocking against each other.

When he looked at her it was as if he was looking into her. His dark curls cascaded over his forehead, a hint of stubble on his jaw. His eyes were soft and dark brown. They crinkled around the edges when he laughed and they felt like home. It was weird for her, to feel that way with a stranger. But in many ways Calum felt more like an old friend. Like someone she'd known all her life and was just reconnecting with. At this point in the night he was beginning to look tired and sleepy, but just when she thought he was losing interest, his eyes would light up at a funny comment, and it would bring her in closer, creating the most comfortable, at ease feeling deep in her stomach. That night she learned Calum had a wicked dry sense of humour, and that his warm laugh sounded like honey.

They were there for over an hour, long after the remnants of their burgers had gone cold. Only the buzzing of the neon sign in the front window, and the quiet shuffling of the lone staff member were background noise to their conversation.

Eventually they decided to part ways, both tired and content from the night. They put their empty trays in the garbage, and left. Outside they stood only a few steps apart, trying to use each other's bodies to evade the cold wind blowing through the empty parking lot. It was already April in Boston, but some nights still felt like winter.

"Alright," he said, tugging the hood of his jacket over his head so only a few curls poked out. "Get home safe, ok?"

"I will. You too, Calum."

She turned to leave, but his fingertips brushed across the fabric of her jacket. She looked up, the movement garnering her attention. His tongue darted across his bottom lip, brown eyes searching her own.

"We're doing a little show at The Reign next Saturday night. You should come, if you want."

"Yeah I'd love to. I'll be there."

And then he was smiling, hands buried in his pockets. She took a step back and gave him a wave, which he returned, watching her for a few moments before turning in the direction of his own apartment.

[sandalaris]

LATE! but for the fandom asks: BtVS and Shadow and Bone? 💖💖💖

BtVS

my favorite female character: At the moment it’s probably Faith. Her journey and her approach to slaying has always been fun and interesting, but I’ve been thinking more about the things that lead her there lately. The bad choices she made and what could’ve gone differently with a nudge here or there.

my favorite male character: Xander Harris. I know he’s grown some hate over the years, but I love him dearly. He still one of my favorite characters of all time to this day.

my favorite book/season/etc: Season five is the best in my opinion. I’m not even sure why, but its just so good. Or maybe it’s just the last really good season of BtVS, because I feel like the show went down hill after that.

my favorite episode (if its a tv show): Hush is just an amazing episode. They do a lot with so little spoken dialogue, and the misdirect with Tara was just awesome.

my favorite cast member: Anthony Stewart Head, I always like him in whatever I see him in.

my favorite ship: I have my OTP, Spike/Xander, but at the moment my favorite ship is Angel/Willow. Every now and then I get back on them and need content, I’m just so damn picky about them and they’re on the rarer side ship-wise in the fandom that I hardly ever find anything I like. :(

a character I’d die defending: Xander! >:( He gets way more hate than he deserves and I am not here for it. I won’t got into a big defense now, many people have done a better job than me at it anyways, but the amount of blind hatred he gets is staggering.

a character I just can’t sympathize with: Warren. It’s not just that he killed Tara, but he entire storyline is basically just him being bitter and angry that life isn’t “fair.” I’d argue that he got way more than deserved from life to begin with.

a character I grew to love: Cordelia Chase. During my first watch through, I didn’t care for Cordelia until about season three. I loved her after that, and she was probably my favorite part of AtS. 

my anti otp I will call it notp until I die!: Spike and Buffy. I shipped them for a half a moment when I stumbled across a random season five episode before I ever started watching the show. Then I actually watched the show and just wasn’t into them at all. It’s not that I don’t see the appeal they could hold for others, but they hold absolutely no appeal to me and I really don’t like the subplot of Spike being in love with Buffy that happened in season five. 

Shadow and Bone, possible spoilers ahead! You’re getting multiple answers for almost all of these, btw :P

my favorite female character: 

In the Shadow and Bones trilogy it is my girl Genya. She had some amazing lines/moments and she put with so much all for the chance at a better life. And she was this subtle badass, fighting back in her own small ways, like the method she used to poison the king. I’m a little disappointed they didn’t show the Queen all fake and plastic looking in the show considering how Genya would purposely tailor her just a little off as revenge. I still like her in the show, but she hasn’t yet grabbed me the way she did in the books. I actually don’t think I have a favorite female character in the show at this point.

Nina and Inej mostly tied as my favorites in the Six of Crows books, but Nina made me laugh more which gives her just a little bit of an edge. She’s fun and flirty and doesn’t let anyone, even Kaz, keep her from being herself. She’s also a pretty good grifter, able to use her skills with languages and her ability to read people to get what she wants. 

I didn’t actually like Zoya all that much until later on in the series (a mistake on my part because Zoya is awesome), but King of Scars made her one of my favorite characters. Yes, she’s prickly and prone to jealous sniping when her position is threatened, but she’s also unapologetic in who she is and genuinely wants what is best for her country and people and will do whatever it takes to get it. She learned a hard lesson at a young age that being nice won’t protect her and has fought to keep herself and those she loves/are loyal to safe.

my favorite male character:

I’m not positive he fits the label of “favorite” but I certainly found the Darkling the most compelling male character in the books, and he’s pretty far up there in the show as well. I probably enjoy watching him on screen the most as well, although I feel like in the show Jesper was my actual favorite male character. He was certainly my favorite in Six of Crows books, and the show version of him captures book!Jesper perfectly. 

I wanna say that Nikolai is my favorite somewhere, because I love him so much (he’s funny and sarcastic, which I’m always a sucker for in a character), but I feel like he doesn’t quite count for reasons I can’t put my finger one.

my favorite book/season/etc

Out of all of the Grishaverse, Six of Crows is hands down my favorite. It’s a heist! With young morally-gray criminals who don’t all have this nice heart of gold under it all, who break into-and out of -an unbreakable prison while spouting off witty dialogue! 

There’s only been a single season in the show so far, but I’m excited to see more!

my favorite episode (if its a tv show)

Probably the episode two. There’s something about the way things were revealed and the subtle unfolding of many of the characters that I like. 

my favorite cast member: 

The only one’s who’s name I know is Ben Barnes and I only learned that when he was announced as the Darkling and Tumblr had a meltdown. *shrug* I mostly was like, “that’s the guy from The Punisher. He’s good at playing the villain, so yay.” 

my favorite ship

I don’t want him redeemed in the slightest, nor do I particularly want a happy ending for them, but I love the dynamic between Alina and the Darkling. That push/pull they have, how very alike they are even as they are very opposite, and how she just can’t shake her draw to him and him to her, although he doesn’t try as hard as she does. They have this connection, are insanely compatible, and part of this tragic appeal of them is that in another life they could’ve had that happy ending together. It’s beautiful and tragic, to see how you’ve broken something before you even had it. And there’s something so appealing for me in that, in how their feelings are this tangled mess that can’t be undone and the way they really are the only people who can fully understand the other and the bond that forges between them. 

On a lighter note, Nina/Matthias was my favorite ship in Six of Crows for a long time, but I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention how much I love Kaz/Inej.

a character I’d die defending

Zoya maybe? Or Matthias? 

a character I just can’t sympathize with

The apparat. I kept waiting to see if his motives were something I could relate with in the books. They weren’t. He’s just a creepy old man who wants Alina to die and become a martyr so he can lead the church in her name. 

a character I grew to love

Probably Zoya. She seemed to be such a stereotypical mean girl in the first book, there only to make things hard on the main character, and I fell for it. She really is so much more than that.

my anti otp

I will accept the term anti-otp just this once because I don’t really have a notp for the show or books. The closest I have is Alina/Mal in the books. In the show I can actually see it and will probably aw over them when they get together, but in the books? He doesn’t seem to care of Alina at all, even as a friend for most of the first book, and gets downright petty and bitter when she’s revealed to be the Sun Summoner. But I can see their friendship in the show, on both sides, and that’s gone a long way for me. It’ll probably never be a ship I love, but I think I’ll probably grow to like it well enough.

[barnesandco]

Little Hands (2)

Bucky is woken one morning by a small girl hammering on his door and crying her eyes out. He takes her to Child Protective Services only to be called back and informed that he is in fact, the father, and the mother a murder victim from the night before. What happens when he now finds himself a father, and the daughter in question becomes inexplicably, irrevocably attached to his neighbor who lives across the hall?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of murder, war injuries.

A/N: Thank you for the tremendous response on this series! I’m so excited that so many people are enjoying it. Tags are open, let me know if you want to be added. I’d love to hear what you think!

“I'm glad you came, Buck. Everyone's been trying to get to know you better, and hopefully this will help. You need to get out of your apartment more.” Steve murmurs across the table to Bucky, leaving the boisterous collective conversation momentarily. Bucky doesn't know how he got roped into team lunch at the Barton farm, but here he is. Eating apple pie at the table that is meant to fit half the people it's currently accommodating, as some Christmas musical rerun plays in the background. If it weren't for Nate dancing in front of the TV and singing at the top of his little lungs, someone would have asked to turn it down or off already - it's not even Thanksgiving yet.

Grateful that Steve has stopped the mother-henning for now, Bucky turns back to the pie, and then to the other Avengers. Some of them, at least. Clint looks immeasurably happy as Nat discusses target practice with his daughter, Lila. On his other side, Laura and Sam are engaged in a fierce debate on the best sides for Thanksgiving meals. The Avengers with families of their own - Scott and Tony - are notably absent, spending free time with their children, making it seem as though Clint has taken in a collection of strays. 

He looks past the table and out the window, where the remaining few leaves are falling down in an early winter breeze. It's grey, but then, everything feels grey compared to Wakanda. Ironic coming from a man raised in the smog and fog of Brooklyn, he knows, but his life is just one color after the other. Phases passing like the seasons.

After Brooklyn, it was the trenches of the war, where Bucky knew nothing but brown for months on end. Then the sterile silver of Zola's equipment, followed by the consuming black of his cell. When he finally got out, the most dominant color was white. Agent Carter's perfect teeth, his cold knuckles around a rifle, the snow-clad mountains he fell between during that awful train-ride. Red followed - the bloody stump where his left arm used to be, the gunshot wounds that blossomed wherever he went, the star on his shoulder. His stupid fucking Henley, even the robe in green, green Wakanda. He's sick of red, longs for blue, now. 

That's the crux of his problem, at present. Those blue eyes from yesterday, glittering like the moon, distant, but ever present. And oh, so familiar. Unrecognizable, whenever he tries, and he doesn't think any of his memory lapses have frustrated him like this one. He should know where he's seen Nina's eyes before. He doesn't, though, cannot. Pressing his brain has yielded no answer, not as he saw her staring at him from the rearview mirror on the way to drop her off. Not when she started tearing up again when it was time to leave, not when she watched you as you reassured as she clung on to you. Not when she almost glared at him, as if for a betrayal, over the shoulder of  a social worker that carried her way. He thanks God that childcare workers have weekend shifts, because he wouldn't have known what to do with Nina for a second longer, with or without your help.

He had dropped you at your intended grocery store with too many thank-you's and awkward blushes and red stutters. Almost smacked himself in the forehead after you left the car for his total and utter inability to be coherent around you. He knows he isn't who he used to be, doesn't expect to be the ladies' man Steve tells him about, but he wishes he could at least put on a facade. At least appear sane and capable of basic human interaction. You never seem to mind, though, always offering a friendly giggle and gentle patience as he stumbles over his words. He wonders if that's a facade, too. If you're not as willing to put up with him as you appear to be, the way you were with Nina yesterday.

He could tell you were out of your depth, but you handled it like a champ. Handled her, rather. All his thought processes are circling back to Nina, and he doesn't understand it. One child, left alone on his doorstep in the dead of night. The mystery of it is most inconvenient. Bucky shakes all thought of it out, and decides to participate in the conversation at the table, and jumps, to find Wanda staring at him.

She smiles as if it's not an issue, as if she hasn't been watching him for who knows how long, and reaches for another piece of pie. 

"Are you okay, Mr. Barnes?" She asks when he doesn't stop looking at her and Steve looks over. Bucky resists the urge to roll his eyes at the concern that immediately overtakes his features.

"Yeah, Buck, you look a little out of it. Everything alright?" Steve leans on his forearms, ready to do whatever is required to put Bucky at ease. The others start to get up as lunch is now over. Bucky begins to answer Steve as he makes his way past him with a plate to put away. 

"I'm fine, Stevie. Don't wor-" Ring. Saved by the bell. Bucky puts the plate down and pulls his phone out of his pocket and looks at the caller ID; it's an unsaved number. His teammates are bustling about, getting ready to settle down in the living room, and he mutters a generic excuse me and answers the call. While holding the phone to his ear, he accidentally presses the speaker button.

"Hello?" He says gruffly, standing in the foyer.

"Is this Sergeant Barnes?" A woman asks from the other end. The TV has been turned off, Nate's attention diverted. The four-year-old runs out of the room, barely missing Bucky's legs, and rushes up the stairs.

"Yeah, who's askin' ?" Everyone in the next room has gone quiet, and he - super senses and all - does not know it yet, back to the door, eyes on his socks scuffing against the worn floorboards, and ears on the professional, straight-cut voice on the phone.

"It's about the girl you brought in to our Brooklyn office yesterday morning. Nina?" Bucky holds his breath. He had given the CPS office his number to let him know when they found her parents. Something in him, maybe the forgotten big brother part that still holds on to Becca, feels a responsibility towards the girl. And he can't get rid of the niggling question that asks: why would someone go to all that trouble to leave her on his doorstep?

"Yeah? What about her?" He shifts his weight, tucks a hand in his pocket, clenches and opens his fist. "Have you found her parents?" 

"Sir, you're the father." Bucky's heart stops. He freezes, blood turning to stone and muscles to glass. The anger floods his cheeks red. Steve stands, cup of coffee neglected on the table.

"Is this some kinda joke? 'Cause I don't find it funny. That's impossible." He fumes, now pacing, assassin-silent stalk abandoned in favor of heavy treading across the planks. His hair curtains his face and he pushes it back as he listens closely to her response.

"Sir, we conducted a DNA test to see if there was a match in the system, and you are the father." Bucky ceases pacing when he meets Steve's eyes through the doorway, tunnel vision excluding the others' stares. 

"Did you find the mother?" He asks, hand no longer raking through his hair, but pulling at the strands.

"That's the second cause of concern, Sergeant Barnes. The mother was found murdered in Bushwick on Saturday morning." She replies, apology now saturating her tone. Bucky can taste the sympathy through the phone, and he doesn't know whether to swallow it up or vomit. 

"What's her name?" He manages.

"Irene Petrov." 

"What's going to happen to Nina?" Bucky asks, not accepting this result, but retaining some semblance of pragmatism. He doesn't have a daughter. He can't have a daughter. The name Irene rings no bells, and there's no way, even with his bruised, battered memory, that he would forget making a child with someone. The idea that she's dead sends a jolt to his gut, and he staggers. The nausea that comes with the gut feeling that something is not right tastes like metal and bile in his throat, and he heaves in deep breaths of clean country air in order to listen to the woman answer his question.

"You have custody, unless you decide to give it up, in which case she'll enter the foster system." Clint is now on his feet, too; Wanda's taken to biting her nails. 

"Okay. Okay, alright. Can you send me the results? I'll pick her up soon." Bucky wrings his free hand, asking for some sort of verification. He needs proof. Evidence. Something to hold onto as the world swims around him, buzzing ears barely perceiving the woman's promise to send him the documents, and subsequent good-bye. A headache builds between his eyes as he turns back to Steve, holding his phone like he doesn't know what it is, or what it does. 

"Buck? What was that all about?" Steve speaks first, walking up to him, audience forgotten. Bucky looks over his shoulder to realize they heard the entire conversation, but finds that he doesn't fully care. He told them about finding Nina earlier, and now they know everything. Just as well, he would have had to tell them anyway.

"You heard everything, Steve. Don't know what more there is to say." He chuckles, shaking his head in disbelief at the phone in his hand. The phone buzzes, signaling an email. 

"These are the DNA test results. Got no idea how that's possible, but there you go." He shows Steve the phone screen, still shaking his head, unsure whether to laugh or scream. A daughter. 

An hour later sees him standing inside the reception he dropped Nina off at yesterday, not knowing that her mother was dead in a proverbial ditch a stone's throw away. Irene Petrov. The name means nothing to him, but he can't trust his mind, based on the events of late. 

Sam is standing on his right, and Steve to his left, both silent and in wait. After verification of the results through a quick phone call with F.R.I.D.A.Y., they had left Clint's house together in Sam's car. Both men had insisted on joining him, noticing his evident despair, and wanted to be by his side. A social worker holding Nina’s hand emerges from a hallway, and Bucky moves forward. It’s the same woman who coaxed Nina away yesterday when he dropped her off. 

“Sergeant Barnes. Nice to see you again.” She says, smiling, but Bucky suspects she’s disgusted. Suspects that he tried to abandon his daughter - his daughter? - and was found out. He forces a stiff nod in response.

“Hi.” He says, then looks at Nina, whose gaze is defiant, chin turned up. She’s angry, as angry as a child can be, anyhow. 

Before he can address her, however, the social worker gestures for him to follow her to a seating area nearby, still holding Nina’s hand. They sit, and she opens a slim manila folder, showing him the documents within. Rather, the alarming lack thereof.

“Nina has no record, Sergeant Barnes. No birth certificate, in the US or otherwise, as far as we can see. No passport, medical records, any official documents of registration. We’ve just registered her here, though, and it’s on the basis of that registration that we’ve made the papers assigning you to have her full custody. Please sign here.” She hands him a pen, turns the page towards him, and he reads through it. Lifts the paper to see copies of the DNA report underneath. After mere moments of deliberation - wasted moments, it’s not like he has a choice - he signs the fateful paper. Wipes his palms on his thighs anxiously, looks at Nina but talks to the social worker.

“Can we go now?” He asks, like a teenager excusing themselves from the dinner table. Nina’s watching him, curious, piercing blue eyes fixated on him. Perhaps he recognizes them because they’re her mother’s, who he doesn’t recall meeting, but his subconscious does. Is that why they’re so startingly familiar? He shakes the query out of his head, once again, and stands when the woman does. She nods, wishes him well, and hands Nina over, points out the car seat and backpack that has now been brought out. She waves goodbye, and Nina watches her go, patiently, unmoving. Bucky bends down, rests one knee on the beige carpet, and looks at her.

“Hey, Nina, remember me? I’m-”

“Bucky.” She blurts out, and he is taken aback. Didn’t expect her to remember his name, and he knows she only does because of the conversation between you and him on the way here. You had introduced him. This is my friend, Bucky. He’s nice. He smiles at Nina, nods, and holds out his hand out to shake hers. Almost withdraws it when her eyes widen, and he prays she doesn’t cry again. Calmer than yesterday, having had time to come to terms with this horrible predicament, she doesn’t cry. Instead she shakes his hand, and he releases the breath he was holding hostage in his chest, pressure from his lungs relieved but the pressure on his hand remains. She has a firm handshake.

“Yeah, I’m gonna be taking care of you. Is that okay?” He asks, fully aware of Steve and Sam’s stares burning into him. He can see a smirk and a dropped jaw from his peripherals, and feels like pumping a fist in the air just for Sam’s awestruck gaze. Internally thanks Steve for having more faith in him than he does himself. He’s not the only one, because it seems that Nina is starting to trust him, too. 

“Yes.” She says, voice a whisper, gliding around him. He stands, and holds out his hand. The feeling of her small fingers wrapping around his large, calloused ones is indescribable. Soft, warm, they fit in his perfectly, and unbelievably, inexplicably, Bucky’s heart soars. His stomach is still in knots, the thought of Irene Petrov doing somersaults in his abdomen, but for the first time since yesterday morning, he thinks something feels right. Her hand in his is comfortable, and he doesn’t want to let go. Stifling the smile, he finally gets to where Steve and Sam are.

“Nina, these are my friends.” She doesn’t respond, looks up at the men unimpressed, and he smiles again. “This is Steve, and this is Sam.” He says as each man kneels down to say hello.

“Where is the lady?” She asks, her r and l pronounced as w’s, and Bucky blanches. Thinks of you, doing more than you should have, kind mind and sound heart, helping him drop Nina off with your shy smile and glinting eyes. Wonders if you’ll understand his situation, even though he knows he has bigger fish to fry than worry about his chances at taking you on a date when he now has a girl, a whole person, to take care of. So he tells that girl the only thing that comes to mind.

“She was busy, honey, I’m sorry. Hey, do you want to get ice-cream on the way home?” He says, and changes the subject before she can react. She frowns, then perks up slightly, nods for ice-cream. Unfortunately- 

“Ice-cream in November, Buck? She’ll get sick before you’ve even brought her home” Steve points out, and she glares at him. Bucky very nearly laughs at the look on her face, and Sam grins.

“Okay, okay, ice-cream in November.” Steve actually laughs, holding his hands up in surrender, waving away the distrust on Nina’s tiny, chubby face. Bucky’s gaze goes to her little hands unclenching from the fists they were in.

“Alright, man, let’s go.” Sam says, picking up the car seat and patting Bucky on the shoulder as he leads them out. Bucky grins, if only for a moment, watches the beginnings of a smile on Nina’s face as they leave the building.

---

Kamenev holds two empty glass vials up to the flickering lightbulb suspended from the ceiling. One used to contain hairs belonging to the Fist of Hydra, proof of DNA just in case. The other held a fingerprint mold of the same man - biometric identity. He smashes the vials in a tissue, flushes it all down the toilet of another dirty motel bathroom. 

He’s sick of these dingy, disgusting places, knows he deserves better. He deserves the world at his feet, after his scientific accomplishment, the only evidence of which is the child itself. The child that has been slipping out of his grasp like sand through his fingers. She manages to evade him, even when her mother could not. However, he is sure he will find her soon. He must.

Taglist:  @suz-123 @mermaidxatxheart @buckyreaderrecs @shield-agent78 @corneliabarnes @readerandcinephileingeneral @stevieboyharrington @captainchrisstan @mickmoon @notsomellowmushroom @alyxkbrl @mcueveryday @jennmurawski13 @hailqueenconquer @luckyfiction17 @veganfangirl5

[purplesurveys]

1195

survey by n0b0dysp3rf3ct

—:: Who ::—

... was the last person you saw face to face? I passed by my brother last night when I had to go to the kitchen to fill up my tumbler.

... was the last person you texted or messaged online? Angela; I was just asking her for the difference among A4/A5/A6 since I’m now planning to buy a binder and sleeves for my rapidly increasing collection of photocards and postcards. It really frustrates me that A4 is the biggest one and A6 the smallest :((((

... was the last person who asked you for a favour? Kata, my manager. She filed a half-day leave last Friday to get herself and her family vaccinated in her town, so she had sent me over a very long to-do list of deliverables that she asked me to fulfill while she was out. Eventually she ended up filing a whole-day leave since she felt feverish after being under the sun all day, and also possibly from side effects of the vaccine, so I ended up carrying the entire workload for the day. I like Kata and she’s a very easy person and superior to work with, so I honestly couldn’t complain about it.

... was the last person you lent something to? Ooh, I don’t remember. I don’t really lend people things.

... was the last person who told you a secret/confided in you? Andi was just sharing to me their worries about taking the LAE (scheduled for today) and how they’ll be okay if they don’t pass.

... is the tallest person you know? Jo is like 5′7″ and we all look like beans when standing next to her. One of my uncles is also very tall; around 5′10″ or 5′11″ if I’m not mistaken.

... the shortest person you know? I think Aya? That’s just a smart guess, though; I haven’t seen most of my friends in more than a year.

... your oldest (in years) friend? Mik is turning 28 this year. Sometimes I forget just how much older he is than me since we vibe really well together during the rare times we did get to hang out. I’m still bummed we never got that smoke break we wanted to have.

... is the oldest (in length of time) friend? Angela.

... is your youngest friend? Hannah was born in 2000. Peter was born in 2001 but we aren’t that close yet.

... is your newest friend? I haven’t made any new friends recently. Stan Twitter is lonelier than I thought it would be; everyone is already friends with everyone so it’s hard to break that space. Not to mention everyone is also grossly younger than I am – I keep seeing profiles with ‘2004′ on their bio :/ I should start making an effort to look for older ARMYs lol, I definitely feel like I’d have more fun that way.

... is your closest relative? My eldest cousin on my mom’s side, my Kuya.

... was your favourite teacher? My music teacher from high school. I neeeeeever liked music as a subject and it was never a priority of mine, but she always kept our classes something for me to look forward with her advice and the way she was always able to make lessons interesting.

... was your least favourite teacher? Those who made it clear they didn’t like me, even though I didn’t do anything to deserve such hostility.

... did you spend the most time with when growing up? My siblings and cousins since we all lived together at one point.

... knows you the best? My two best friends.

... always beats you in games or sports? Andi would probably be able to beat me in any game. They just let me win because they know I can be a sore loser.

... who is the most creative of the people you know? My family is pretty artistic and I have a lot of talented relatives - my sister and my cousin Maggie paint and draw; my mom can make any kind of craft she wants, with her hnds; and one of my grand-aunts regularly does paintings. I think all of them are amazingly creative in their own way.

... is the funniest person you know? Probably Andi. Hans makes me crack up too.

... is the most organised that you know? My mom.

... that you know has travelled the most? My dad. Both our fridge doors are filled from top to bottom with magnets from places he’s travelled in due to his line of work. He’s toned down quite a bit in the last few years and has taken to staying within Asia, but back then his traveling history was super expansive – Germany, Jamaica, Italy, Belize, Aruba, Italy, France, Monaco, Denmark, Norway, the UK, US, Estonia, Portugal, etc.

... has always been there for you? Angela never left my side.

... has given you the most personal gift? I can’t possibly pick, my friends are pretty good at giving me gifts...like Andi getting me a Petals For Armor CD and a Punk shirt that hasn’t been produced in a while, and Angela giving me a personalized Friends mug because she knows I like my coffee and she knows I like Friends.

... has an annoying laugh? I don’t think anyone I know has an annoying laugh.

... never forgets a birthday? That would be me.

... do you live with? My parents, my two siblings, and our two dogs.

...,do you have the most in common with? I’m not so sure about this one, actually. I share bits of my personality with a lot of people - like me and Jo liking BTS, me and Andi liking wrestling, Blanch and I having similar personalities, me and Laurice being super meticulous when it comes to our work, etc. - but I haven’t met anyone who’s virtually a duplicate of mine when it comes to my traits and interests.

...is the sportiest person you know? I’m also not sure. Most people I know are into watching a bunch of sports, but none of them actually play.

...was your last missed call? It was an unknown number that I kept ignoring because THEY WOULDN’T TEXT WHO THEY WERE. If you have enough load credits to call me multiple times, then surely you can text me and introduce yourself first, and maybe then I can pick up the phone.

...did you last open your door for? My sister knocked last Friday because someone wanted to talk to me via landline. It was weird since no one calls via the phone anymore, but I have a gut feeling it was that ^ same person who had been trying to call me through my phone but never texted me. Eventually I learned it was one of the bloggers I’m talking to for work who just wanted to ask a few questions about our ongoing engagement.

... has your heart? Kim Taehyung. Expect the same answer for this type of question moving forward.

... has your respect? I gotta hand it to Tina for consistently doing well in her studies and excelling in every subject while doing photo and video editing for two orgs, working on her thesis, and being a board member in our mutual org, all while living alone. She does so well I wish I can tell her to give herself the occasional break to avoid burnout.

...do you share a special song with? I don’t think I have that with anyone.

...do you miss right now? Literally allllllll my friends.

...last made you angry? It’s been a while since I’ve directed my anger towards another person. When I get pissed off these days it’s usually over a situation that goes awry or out of my control.

...did you last buy a gift for? So this was not technically meant to be a gift, but what happened was I accidentally secured two orders of the same poster set, which was a part of this new BTS photobook coming out later this month, from two different shops. One of the shops merely posted an ‘interest check’ for the poster set so I signed up for it thinking it was harmless, but when they got back to me they already attached an invoice :/ I ended up having to pay for it just so things won’t get complicated between myself and the shop anymore; and I told Angela she can just keep the extra set I bought and that she can consider it a gift.

...did you celebrate your last birthday with? My family and technically my workmates since I didn’t file a leave that day. I also had food delivered to their house so I guess that can count as my ‘celebration’ with them.

...have you gone to a concert with? I went with Angela for my first Paramore show.

...can make you laugh? Anyone can tbh. It’s not very hard to make me laugh.

...has taught you how to do something? Nina taught me how to embroider and do basic needle/thread skills back when I was still getting into the hobby.

...has lost something of yours? I am almost certain my ex never kept the handwritten letters I used to write her. She never seemed to remember or bring up the things I wrote.

...has broke your heart? Gabie but I’m over it.

...has stood you up? Hasn’t happened to me before.

:: What ::

Is your favourite colour? Pastel pink.

Can you do that most your friends can’t? Type fast, apparently.

Is your birthday? April 21.

Colour eyes do you have? Dark brown/black.

Form of transport do you take to work/school? I work from home. But under normal circumstances I would drive my car.

Music do you like to listen to in the car? I connect my Spotify to the car’s Bluetooth and listen to whatever artist or playlist I’m into at the moment. The music I put on could also depend on my current mood for the day.

Languages can you speak? Filipino and English. I’ve also been able to pick up looooots of Korean phrases and expressions because of the amount of content I watch. I’m nowhere near fluent, of course, but I’m increasingly able to pick up what people say based off a few Korean words I’ll hear in a sentence.

Was the last thing you drank? Continued from idk. I finished off my glass of water from dinner.

Was the last thing you ate? My mom made pasta.

Time did you wake up this morning? Depends on how late I slept the night before and how tired I was, but it usually ranges between 5:45–7:30 AM.

Colour are your bedroom walls? They’re white.

Drink do you usually order when eating out? I never order drinks unless I’m at La Creperie, in which case I always get their San Gines hot chocolate; for everywhere else that isn’t a bar, I just get water.

Food can you cook well? ...I can’t cook.

Animals have you had for a pet? Dogs, rabbit, lovebirds, goldfish, and technically a cat but she was mostly Nina’s.

Are your initials? RC.

Kind of activities do you like to do on the weekends? I’m still kind of stuck at home during the weekends :/ so I can’t do much, but I’m not complaining since I actually prefer staying in these days. Anyway, most recently I’ve taken to catching up on BTS content I’ve missed over the last 8 years, so I like watching shows they’ve done like Bon Voyage, Run BTS, etc.

Movie do you know line by line? Two for the Road, TITANIC, and probably most of White Chicks.

Band(s) have you seen in concert? Paramore, One Direction, a bunch of local bands.

Do you buy/get to treat yourself? It’s usually food - I like giving myself a feast every Friday night - but I’m putting that in the backseat for now as I’ve realigned my money to be spent on BTS merch. My big purchases are saved for the albums for now, but every now and then I’ll see a postcard or photocard I like and buy them. Once I complete the albums I’ll be moving on to the concert DVDs, then the special packages, then probably BT21 plushies. Needless to say I have a longggggg way to go haha.

Colours your phone cover? I have a clear case.

Part of the world would you love to visit? Another continent would be nice.

Question do you dislike being asked? Even though I know people mean well, I don’t like being asked “How are you?” but tbh it’s more of a me thing because I just never really know what to say.

Subject were you good at in school? History.

Careers do your parents have? They both work in the hospitality industry.

Brand of clothing do you buy most often? For clothes clothes I’m not really loyal to a particular brand; I buy from different brands and shops all the time. But for shoes, I like sticking to Nikes.

Chocolate bar is your favourite? Not a big fan of chocolate bars. I love Reese’s Cups, though.

TV show have you watched every series of? Friends, Perfect Strangers, Breaking Bad.

Radio station do you listen to the most? It’s a little hard to tell at this point considering I haven’t driven regularly in over a year. But back when I used to do it, I usually flipped among 93.1, 99.5, and 87.5.

Podcasts are you subscribed to? I’m not the biggest fan of podcasts. Find them a tad bit boring.

Is your favourite dessert? Macarons or cheesecake.

Can’t you do that most around you seem to? Ride a bike.

Are 5 qualities you value in a friend? Loyalty, thoughtfulness, honest, sensitive to my needs and those of others, and intelligent.

Are 5 qualities you value in a partner? ^ Pretty much the same thing.

Size pizza do you usually order? Family size usually.

Cuisine do you like to order or cook? I’ve been getting Japanese so many times recently. I rarely go outside sushi.

Colour(s) dominate your wardrobe? Black and white, and colors that were in at one point like mustard yellow and pastel pink.

Toothpaste brand do you use? Colgate.

Sounds can you hear right now? My insanely loud aircon.

Is the weather like today? Like hell. I believe we’re reaching a heat index of over 50ºC every day now, so...that’s fun. It gets absolutely difficult to work in the afternoon when the temperature is at its most brutal, and its times like this I wish I got to work in the office so that there’s aircon and I could at least work comfortably :/

Are your plans for tomorrow? Just work and have tons of meetings, the usual.

:: Where ::

Do you keep your phone when not using it? I keep my phone near me even when I’m not using it since I could always get an important notification.

Were you born? Manila.

Do you go to unwind? Most days it would be the rooftop, but under normal circumstances I like staying at a coffee shop somewhere to escape life and my responsibilities for a short while.

Is your best friend right now? I believe they’re both at home since they have no reason to be out anyway.

Can you go nearby to have a good time? Personally, I would just go to the Starbucks near our village lol. If I’m feeling a bit more adventurous I’d head to Katip, which is prrrretty close by but not quite.

Is the nearest restaurant? We have a McDonald’s literally right beside the village. Then besides that is a Shakey’s, and right across that is a Burger King, then the aforementioned neaby Starbucks. Just makes me realize how urbanized my town has gotten in the last few years.

Is the nearest beach? If I had to guess, the nearest beaches would be in Batangas which is 2-3 hours away, but it really depends on how fast you can drive lol. I’m not too good with long car rides so in both times I’ve driven there I had always taken 4 hours.

Did you meet your closest friend? I met Angela in grade school, and I met Andi at a local rally in my university.

Did you go for your last vacation? Tagaytay, though it was a staycation more than anything else.

Is the nearest mall or superstore? It’s like a 3-minute drive away from the village.

Did you last get an injury? I have loadsssssss of new scratches and gashes all around my wrists from playing with Cooper.

Is the most extravagant place you’ve stayed at? It’s a toss-up between Aids’ or Gian’s house. Gian would probably win since I never actually got to go inside Aids’ place, and his was the first house I’ve been to that was able to literally take my breath away. OH and Shaun’s house was pretty fucking swanky as well.

Do most the local kids play? I would have no idea since I’m neither a kid nor a parent.

Have you been with your family? This is a very vague question lol...what do you mean where have we been? We’ve been to different towns around the country and several countries together, if that’s what you’ve been asking.

Did you spend Christmas last year? We visited a couple of relatives, and we also spent it at home.

Did your parents grow up? My mom grew up within Metro Manila; my dad in a city a little outside of it.

Did you buy the shoes you’re wearing? I’m barefoot at the moment and always am at home.

Would you like to go right now if you could? If life had still been normal I would probably be having after-work drinks at a bar near the office.

Do you miss the most from your childhood? I’m not sure how to answer this with where.

Is the best restaurant you know? I’m still searching for it.

Will you never go again as it was so bad? It’s not that it was bad, but I’d probably never dine at 8Cuts again because their burgers are not worth the hype and are very overpriced for their size.

:: When ::

...was your last vacation? My family’s last legit vacation was in August 2019; but we did have a quick escape to Tagaytay in January of this year.

...did you graduate? I officially ‘graduated’ from college in August, if you could even call it that.

...did you decide what career you wanted? Somewhere between my 2nd and 3rd year of college. That was when I decided I hated journalism and preferred PR, but since PR is under journalism’s umbrella there was no need for me to shift courses.

...did you have your first kiss? Continued. Like WHEN when or how old was I when? In any case, it was in January 2015 and I ws 16.

...did you learn how to swim? Idk, pretty early on. My parents liked taking us to water parks when we were younger, so we had a lot of exposure. I’m not sure if there was ever a time where something just clicked and I learned how to swim; I believe it had just come naturally.

...did you have your first relationship? By the end of 2014.

...did you meet your best friend? I met both of them in school, but at different points.

...do you feel the most at peace? Probably when I’m able to stay at the rooftop all alone.

...do you usually fall asleep? I’ve readjusted my body clock now (I used to want to be in bed by 9 or 10 PM, lmao) and I stay up until anywhere between 12-2 AM on weekdays.

...do you usually wake up? Ranges between 6-7:30 AM.

...did you last watch a movie? September.

...did you last go to a party? Around Februaryish, 2020.

...did you last cry? I can’t really recall. The last moment I can remember was crying over Life Goes On sometime last month, when I heard it for the first time. I’m just not sure if that’s accurate or when exactly in April that happened.

...did you laugh really hard? I always have a good laugh at least once a day.

...did you buy something pricey last? Idk what you would count as pricey but I bought the new BTS photobook set when it dropped back in April. Cost me around ₱3750. I wasn’t able to buy from the first press (it sold out in like 7 minutes lol) which included an exclusive poster set, so I had to look for a local shop that was already offering the poster set separately, and ended up shelling out another ₱2200 for it...which means all in all I spent around ₱5950 for it or roughly $125.

...did you have an argument last? Earlier this evening but I don’t want to get into it as it made me cry from sadness and frustration for the first time in months.

...did you last have a sick day? May last year.

...did you last recieve a hug? I have no idea. February, I think? when I hung out with my friends.

...when is your best friend’s birthday? July 22 or September 15, depends on which best friend.

...did you learn how to drive? I started getting lessons when I was 17, but I didn’t start feeling comfortable with it until I turned 18.

...did you last receive a surprise? Around a couple of weeks ago when my dad came home with Jollibee for us.

:: How ::

Many pets do you have? Two.

Many houses have you lived in? Three that I can remember, but I know my parents moved around a bit when I was a newborn.

Often do you shower? Every morning before my shift. I hate feeling sweaty and icky when I report for work.

Well can you cook? I can’t at all.

Many close friends do you have? I have two people I count as my absolute best friends, but I have a handful of close friends as well.

Many Brothers or sisters do you have? One of each.

Often do you go swimming? I don’t swim much at all, really...I haven’t done it since 2019, so that should say enough. As relaxing as it is, I feel like the clean-up afterwards can be such a challenge lol. Like if you swim in a pool you have to rigorously wash the chlorine off of you; and if you swim in the sea you have to also be thorough about making sure you’ve removed all the sand from your body.

Many times have you texted today? I don’t think I texted today but I did spend my whole day on chat platforms.

Do you like your toast (colour, topping)? I don’t have super particular preferences; I just like mine on the burnt side.

Do you like your tea and/or coffee? My coffee has to be sweet for me to enjoy it. I can take black coffee/Americano; I’ll just wince a lot with every sip. No tea for me thanks.

Do you like to celebrate your birthdays? With a lot of food.

Are you feeling today? A little frustrated because of an argument incident this evening. But I’m shaking it off and just focusing on the release of Butter tomorrow. My first BTS comeback!!!

Serious are you about your career goals? Very.

Many rooms are in your house? In total, 9.

Many bedrooms in your house? 4.

Did you do in your school exams? I was never consistent. I slacked off a looooooot in grade school; couldn’t give less of a shit about my classes then. I got a bit more hardworking in high school, but I still was a bit lax and I allowed myself to not put a lot of effort in subjects I didn’t care a lot for and that I know I would never have to use in real life, like chemistry or accounting, so there were exams I really excelled in and others that I would fail. It was only in college I started taking my studies incredibly seriously and I believe that showed in the grades I eventually got.

Close do you live to your parents? They’re like, five steps away.

Close do you live to your siblings? My sister’s literally in the room next to mine.

Sensitive to criticism are you? I know it’s something that can never be avoided, so I’m always open to hearing them, especially if it’s meant to help me. It doesn’t mean I enjoy it as it is being given.

Motivated to make changes are you? Depends on my mood and mindset. 

Creative are you (1-10): -0.5.

Hard working are you (1-10): Probably a 22 if I really put my head into a task.

Sporty are you (1-10): I dunno, maybe a 6? I do like playing table tennis, but I’m pretty meh at any other sport.

Musical are you (1-10): 0.

Do you prefer your eggs? Runny yolk; scrambled; or a really packed omelette.

Often do you go out to eat? Before the pandemic, I liked eating out 2-3 times a week.

Would your best friend describe you? Not sure, I never tried asking them this. I hope it’s all nice things, though.

Can someone cheer you up if you’re sad? Send me photos of V. Hahahaha

Often do you meet up with your friends? ...What do you think? D:

Important is religion to you? It is not a part of my life whatsoever.

Old were you when you first stayed overnight from home? 15 or 16, I can’t really remember.

Old were you when you got your first pet? I was maybe 6.

Tech savvy are you? I know enough to survive my own, but I obviously can’t hack into other computers or things like that.

Do you show you appreciate those you care for? Buying them food.

Often do you cut your hair? I only take a trip to the salon once a year.

Often do you paint your nails? Never.

Many countries have you visited? Six.

Boyfriends/girlfriends have you had? Just one.

:: Why ::

... did you choose your username? Because it was straightforward.

... did you take this survey? I like surveys made in categories, and this seemed interesting and varied enough.

... did you choose the career you did? I found that I enjoyed it MILES more than journalism.

...did you last leave the house? I had to go to a local LBC for a work errand.

...did you last give up on something? She wasn’t worth the effort anymore. She hadn’t been for a while, but it took me forever to realize.

...did you search the last thing you searched? I wanted to sing along to the song but it was in Japanese, so I had to look up its lyrics.

...would you give up on someone completely? Oof, I guess you can refer to one of the previous questions. ^

:: If...::

You could live in any country which would you choose? Canada.

You could choose any animal as a pet which one? I’m perfectly content with dogs.

You could be famous for something what would you like? Being known for a funny tweet would probably be enough lol. I have no desire to be famous.

You are sad, how do you combat it? I don’t really get sad anymore these days, so I can’t super remember the go-to tactics I depend on...I guess I like listening to sad songs and allowing myself to wallow in the sadness, because I know I have to accept and process my feelings first before I can be able to calm down.  

You can drive when did you learn? I learned shortly before I started college, when I was 18, because no one was going to be able to take me to university when the school year started.

You could have any job what would it be? Idk, I like the one I have now.

You could go anywhere for a vacation where would you go? Somewhere with a completely different feel and atmosphere, like Norway, Sweden, Finland...that part of Europe, basically.

You could eat anything right now what would it be? Samgak gimbap :/

You wrote a book what genre/topic would it be? It would be a book of essays or maybe a memoir.

You had a theme song what would it be? Idk I don’t really think about this.

You could meet any band/singer in person which one? Billie Eilish seems awesome and easy and fun to talk to.

You could act in any movie which would it be? No thanks.

You get married what venue would you like? Hotel.

If you have kids do you have names picked out? I have one name picked out for a girl but that’s it.

Could describe your dream home what would it be like? Brutalist and minimalist, with large windows, cove lights, and a lot of white space.

You could go back in time what would you change? Break up with Gab earlier.

Could use 3 words to describe your childhood which ones? Could’ve been better.

Could get the answer to any question which question would you choose? When I would die and how, just so I can have peace of mind.

You could have an endless supply of something what would it be? Money, because of course.

Meet anyone who no longer lives who’d you choose? My great-grandfather, mom’s side.

:: Can ::

... you ride a bike? No, never learned.

... you ski? I’ve never even seen snow, so no.

... you bake a cake? I can try but it will probably be very clumsily made as I don’t bake.

... you sing well? I wouldn’t say that. I like singing when I’m alone, but it doesn’t mean I’m any good.

... you do your own taxes? I’ve never tried haha so I guess not.

... you remain calm in a crisis? Depends on how serious it is.

... you do first aid? Let’s just say I wouldn’t volunteer if it comes down to it because I feel like I’d commit one fatal mistake that would make the situation graver. 

... remember your best friend’s family members’ names? Both of their families, yes.

... you fire a gun? I’ve never tried so I doubt it.

... your parents drive? Yep.

...your best friend dance well? They’re not ‘dancers’ per se but sure, they can bust out a move or two.

...you make people laugh easily? Not everyone, but sure.

...stand up for yourself? That’s what I’m trying to learn these days.

...you do a martial art? No.

:: Would ::

You like to learn a new language? That’s always a welcome opportunity.

Save the life of a stray animal? Absolutely.

Know what to do if there was a hurricane? We have several ones come in the country every year so yeah, I can definitely say we’ve long been well-prepared for them.

Try a new cuisine? I do this as often as I can.

Risk your life for anyone? Yes.

You like to get back in touch with someone? No, I’m good now.

You drive in the middle of the night to get a stuck friend? Ina heartbeat.

You Know how to perform CPR? In relation to the first aid question, I wouldn’t volunteer myself in case I make a wrong move.

You likely win in a game of chess? I don’t even know how it works, so no.

You stop talking for a day for $100? Easily.

[awesomehoggirl]

it’s wip wednesday so i thought i’d share a quick writing wip from my multi chapter fem howince fic which will maybe be done in 20 years ! it’s got 8 chapters and i am still on chapter 2 if this gets finished it’ll be a miracle. the fic is called eau d’bedroom dancing because i love le tigre and imagine how fantastic riot grrl vince would be ...

mentioning before hand that i write all my first drafts and oneshots with no capitals because i find it a lot easier but with this fic when i go back over i’ll put capitals in :) (also this is a section from chapter one not the opening)

—

her name is vincenzia mirabella lucie-marié le manteau rafflesia vaisseau-spatial noire (the longest name in the class, and the only one never written up on the ‘star student!’ chalkboard) but everyone refers to her as vince. she’s new to the school, and seemingly england, but her accent is pure south london. two teachers have quit because of her already. holly moon has never been so interested in a person in her entire tiny life.

oh, she’s read up on musicians, heard their stories, wished ever so slightly that her life would someday be just as interesting — did you know nina simone had seven siblings, that john coltrane was in the navy? but the weirdness that seems to just bounce off vince’s tongue beats every story she’s ever read hands down.

it quickly becomes apparent that she’s borderline feral: if the staff-room murmurs of the teachers are to be believed, she came from a ‘neglectful home’; if vince’s own word is to be accepted, she was raised in the jungle by a cast of rock stars, animals and french nobility. holly is sensible enough to doubt her at first, but before long (and after many demonstrations of her ability to talk to animals) she’s genuinely on board. they sit behind the ash tree at lunch time, out of sight from dribbling boys and disapproving teachers, and holly figures out that through half a chocolate bar vince can be coaxed into revealing all sorts about her unorthodox childhood.

‘dunno why you’re so desperate to know about my life,’ vince complains once, when asked again to tell the story about the great order of frogs and the backwards waterfall. ‘why can’t i hear stories about you for a change?’

‘all in good time,’ says holly, whose mother is a tax attorney married to a geography teacher. ‘plus, i know you love the attention.’

and so vince sits there and talks until she goes hoarse, or loses interest, or feels like changing the subject right at a crucial moment, or the school bell rings and they have to go inside. she talks about her house made of bus tickets and her animal friends, her french duke uncle who would come down on bank holidays and teach her table manners, about joining the jackals for hunts, about skimming the treetops in the claws of squabbling vultures, about the hoots and screeches of the monkeys as they chased her through the undergrowth on the back of a hippopotamus. and holly will listen breathlessly, trying to seem nonplussed when in reality she is clinging to every last word. (tell me again about the paper-mache tiger and the rhinoceros’ game nights. tell me again again again.)

because no matter how hard her sensible brain tries, she really can’t prove them wrong. vince is hopeless at all forms of spelling or arithmetic. she is genuinely flabbergasted when explained to that, in fact, biting and shoving are not always seen as ‘playful’ in the human world. she swears like a sailor (or perhaps a rockstar) would, until the little old lady vicar gasps, snaps her bible shut and refuses to read to the year six class ever again. idioms are beyond her, let alone algebra, and the teachers insist there’s no hope — but they can’t help liking her, despite it all. there’s something so genuine about her ever-present toothy grin, her bubbly demeanour, that they soon allow her to get away with anything.

and yet holly is her best friend. and the only person (maybe in the world) vince will tell her stories to.

‘once upon a time,’ she begins one lunch break, dipping holly’s generous sacrifice of a curly wurly into her pocket for later, ‘i was out with jahooli the leopard, who was my best friend — he’d give me rides on his back when i was really small, swattin’ the bloodsuckers away with his giant tail. he’d catch me fish in his big strong jaws, crush ‘em up so i could eat ‘em right, i was just a nipper, i’d not got all my teeth in yet, but he was a right sweetheart about that sort of thing. on the surface jahooli always seemed to be a reckless character, a real rough-and-tumble kind of cat, but i knew the reality: he’d lost his mate and his litter and he was gettin’ on a bit, i was all he had left in terms of fatherhood. it meant he did get a bit invasive at times, yeah, he could be real clingy. i didn’t mind though, see, i’m wise beyond my years, so i was quite good with all that stuff, i let him vent to me when it all got a bit too much for his poor leopard heart to handle. anyway, this one day he was lookin’ after me, on account of my foster father bryan ferry being away on tour. and it was a hot afternoon, this one. really hot.’ she sinks down on her heels. ‘the kinda hot that drenches you in sweat no matter how still you stand. the kinda humid that makes your palms slick and your eyelashes heavy. most of the animals were tucked away underground by midday, but the bigger sorts like me and jahooli, we couldn’t exactly join them. so jahooli said, why don’t we make our way down to the river?’

holly feels her spine prickle. it is eerie, the way her friend’s stories pull her in.

she follows vince along to said river, feels jahooli’s long speckled tail curling round her shoulders, bumping against her collarbones, keeping her close. feels the slick wetness of the air, feels the burn of her lungs as they work in shallow pumping gasps. breathes in the hot dark of the bush, the low chatter of the canopy. soon the lumbering gait of the leopard slows, the river is in sight — the banks are busy with boars, bucks and buffalo, sunning lizards and mice. slow-blinking crocodiles cruise in the shallows. vince is not afraid of them. (holly would be.)

‘is it true if you’re being chased by a crocodile you should run in a zig-zag pattern?’ she interrupts (not because the story is getting a little too tense for her or anything).

vince rolls her eyes, makes a face as if holly has asked her the stupidest question in the world (considering just yesterday she asked holly whether all numbers bite or if the three digit ones are just especially fiesty, they clearly have different opinions on what counts as a ‘stupid question’). ‘if a crocodile were to haul its fat arse out of the nice cool water just to give you a bit of trouble, you probably did something awful to deserve it. why? are you plannin’ to go pokin’ sticks at ‘em? cause if you are, insult their music taste, they’ll go absolutely mental. most crocodiles are obsessed with alice cooper, so there’s a good starting point, have that one on me.’

‘so what’s—‘

‘oi, hush! do you want this story or not?’

holly shuts up. vince lowers her voice.

the jungle is sweaty now, the riverbanks a dripping piccadilly circus. jahooli has left vince’s side, gone to make conversation with ranbir the great panther, so she ventures alone to the water’s edge (the animals watch over her, they all like her, tiny and pink and strange as she is) and dips her feet in. the water is so clear and cold it hurts, but soon the pain ebbs and gives way to a calm coolness. she sits down, slides in up to her knees, lies back against the soft mud

the jungle is treacle now, bubbling and pooling, thick. vince soon drifts off and the leaves behind her eyelids are red. the stars are wheeling gulls, the air is thick with salt-spit, her eyelashes tangle and she slips down into the mud. somewhere else, the dulcet waves begin to lap. the elephants have arrived. jahooli and ranbir share a look before they approach, hackles raised (they are not mean-spirited creatures, but they do like to play a prank).

the jungle is long gone now, and vince dreams of strawberry ice cream. somewhere else, jahooli and ranbir wind around each other dizzyingly, teeth flashing slick and sharp. somewhere else, the elephants are fussing, distressed by their feline dance, their ashy trunks whirling as they back up their feet. pelts twist and brush together before the big-cats turn, open their jaws and let out a combined roar that wakes vince, sends animals scattering, splits the sky in two —

and the jungle rumbles. and the elephants charge.

[ace-pervert]

Ive finished watching eleven seasons of rupauls drag race and now feel I am ready to briefly review each season

S1: A good start though it must be said, ONGINA WAS ROBBED! Also there was favoritism.

S2: Not a bad season but at least somewhat ruined by Rupauls rather overt favoritism towards Tyra and dislike of Pandora. While I didnt like Tyra on the show his callout of the entire drag community after leaving drag has given me massive respect for him and feels like karma for RuPauls rather blatant self promotion and attempts to turn himself into some kind of rolemodel. But aside from the callout and Jujube, and Pandora the season is unmemorable.

S3: The top three were all highly skilled and the winner seemed to deserve it though that was later put into doubt after it came to light that Raja had worked with RuPaul before the show aired, and lets be honest Manilla Luzon was much more talented.

S4: One of the best seasons in drag race history, has the best music video, and Sharron Needles is hands down the most influential and versatile queen in drag race history. The only bad part, aside from the editing against phi phi, is Latrice Royal, who, and I feel this needs to be said, wouldnt have been in the top four had Willam stayed, and certainly wouldnt have made top five if Alaska had been allowed to join, mostly because she kept showing a similar outfit, her not being a particularly good actor, being thrown off really easily, and quickly relying on a shtick.

S5: Good season, but I feel that Roxxxy really did end up in the top three only because Visage and Ru love drama and the Jersey Shore look that was at the time Roxxxy Andrews trademark look, and the Coco Alyssa drama was really dull, neither deserved to be as high as ended up, and ultimately both queens are unmemorable.

S6: Not a bad season but i'm not a fan of Courtney Act or miss Lake, mostly because I think they both get away with looks that really they shouldnt have gotten away with, though arguable so did Bendelacreme. Though it was nice that there wasnt any drama, and Bianca del Rio is really funny.

S7: Ive tried to come up with words to describe this season, I cant, its just that bad. No not bad just dull, really dull and awkward, and the worst part is that its not the queens who drag the season down, the queens themselves are fine and Pearl stands out as being a particularly interresting person when not on drag race, its RuPaul being a tool off camera and coming up with challenges that play to the queens weaknesses rather strengths.

S8: Unfortunately I found Bob the Drag Queen so attractive out of drag that I stopped caring about what he looked like in drag with the end result being that I have no idea if hes a good drag queen. But ignoring the moments where I was drooling over Bob it was a good season with some truly great outfits,and a good Snatch Game, that wether for good or bad did very quickly become the Bob the drag queen and Kim Chi show, making it in hindsight the second most plann

S9: The season started off with an appearance by Lady Gaga , whose reviews of the outfits consisted of little more than name dropping and not much else, unintentionally setting the tone for a dull and awkward season with a cheerleading challenge that causes one person to crack a rib and another to almost permanently lose their ability to dance, a Reality Star Rusical that is well just dull, painfully bad lipsinks, uninterresting outfits, and perhaps the blandest wierd drag queen in the history of the competition. Its also in this season that introduced the lipsink for the crown format that I personally despise as it takes the power away from the viewers and puts it back in Rupauls hand.

S10: Solid season, mostly focused on returning contestant Eureka but the other contestants are given enough focus that it feels natural. The challenges are interresting to watch, the snatchgame is funny, and the dresses are well made. The top four are all stars in their right and the winner of that season could have easily been any of them, making this the only season where a lipsink for the crown made sense.

S11: Starts off strong with people like Miss Vanjie, Brooke Lynne Hytes, Nina West and Yvie Oddly revealing a high degree of skill both as actors and as dress makers. Unfortunately the blatant favoritism of Rupaul, the judges, and the producers towards Silky Nutmeg Ganache (honestly they seem like a nice person in real life, but on the show they just seem like a tool), unimaginative challenges, distracting and irritating cameos by former drag race contestants including by Bianca whos dull and unentertaining appearance shows exactly why contestants shouldnt return at all, a rusical so god cringeworthy you'll pray for death (Trump the Rusical), the worst snatch game in drag race history, and painfully predictable twists result in a terrible season, with the only interresting things being the romance between Vanjie and Brooke (they broke up four months after the last episode before the reunion due to conflicting schedules), Miss Vanjie being well himself, Nina Wests acting, and Yvie Oddly's outfits .

S12: Havent seen it, but lets be honest this season is the one where the star is a sex offender. By now many fans have analysed the season and its become clear that the person who was intended to be the focal point and possible winner was Sherry Pie, which means that editing them out for very well known reasons also makes them the focal point just in a different way than intended. Hell it wouldnt surprise me if this season becomes known as the one with Sherry Pie, not the one where the winner won. Though it might also be the last season that RuPauls on, as there are rumors that hes stopping with drag race.

The Christmass Special: To short for a christmass special, to much like the other episodes to be special, to blatantly commercial to be Christmass, and to scripted, even by drag race standards, to be drag race.

And now for a review of the Judges themselves

RuPaul: On the outside a warm, outspoken, well meaning person whose done things which are truly groundbreaking. But beneath that warm exterior beats the stone cold heart of a businessman. He's calculating, manipulative, greedy, has no qualms about setting queens up for failure, and ultimately hasnt done much that could be seen as groundbreaking. Perhaps the worst part is that its clear that in terms of humor , mentality and fashion hes never left the 70s, which combined with his callous way of treating the enviroment (as shown by his fracking empire) and his history of transpobia, makes him a liability to the show. Even if you manage to ignore all of that, the show is ultimately about the drag queens, not about Rupaul, and Rupauls attemps to make it about him really drag the show down

Michelle Visage: Shes a mother of two teenagers with a stay at home husband pretending to be a bitchy whore on a tv show about drag queens, yeah thats her career. Now in truth thats not the biggest issue, the biggest issue is that shes got hangups and makes the same jokes over over again and that after being on the show for ten years she hasnt developed as a judge so the routine, to paphrase miss Visage herself, has been done to death. In truth the show needs something other than the same damn shtick and same damn comments all the time, and if she cant do it then she should quite so someone else can do it for her. Ok maybe thats the second biggest issue, the biggest is that she kisses RuPaul's ass untill it shines brighter than a mirror.

Valentino Rice: Good judge, and had great chemistry with the other judges.

Ross Mathews: Cute guy, wierdly charming, and interacts well with the others.

Carson Kressley: He comes across as a very tired, very frail, very gay but very very very dull ninety year old man, which makes sense given the fact that his entire career is based on being gay, and hes, well old. Ok hes not really old, hes 50, but on camera he looks and acts closer to 150. And the issue isnt that hes gay, its that hes doing a shtick, a very dull and fairly offensive shtick. Possibly the worst choice for a judge, and the show jumps in quality whenever hes not there.

Now for a few things that just bug me.

Favoritism: Unfortunately one of the biggest issues of the show is that seasons tend to be structured around Queens who are intended to be the winner, or at least the hero, from the get go, which has the advantage of allowing the creators of the show to change the structure and challenges from season to season, but also makes it hard to watch if the season is blatant in its favoritism, if the intended winner isnt that good, or if the winner gets eliminated for one reason or another.

Cameos by former contestants: Cameos are a great way to get people to say "I know that person" which is great in a tv show because you know that the cast wont change in the next episode, but not great in a competition where all it does is take away screentime from competitors and giving it to competitors who most likely did not do well enough to win in their own drag race, and even if they did, the show is not about them, but about the current contestants. As such if Ru wants them to return he should put them in All Stars.

Cameos by celebrities: Add nothing. Its drag race not the red carpet, i'm watching for the up and coming drag queens not famous people trying to boost their careers.

Adding politics to the show: No, just no. Dont do things like Trump the Rusical, dont have steven colbert do a voiceover, theres no way that can go well and it comes accross as virtue signaling. If Ru wants to do something good he should double the prize money and have half of the money go to a charity of the winners choosing, or stop fracking.

Adding politics outside of the Show: Drag queens are celebrities and entertainers, as such are constantly in the public eye and dependent on being in it for their income which means that anything they say in public, wether its gossiping, or discussing politics, needs to be viewed as being some form of self promotion. Now this might make things difficult for them, but it is a well known part of being an entertainer so it can be assumed that they were well aware of this before they joined Drag Race. If they do want to talk about politics without being viewed as self promoting, they are free to make an anonymous account on one of the many sites, like tumblr, where its assumed that no one knows who the other people are.

Family Friendly Drag: Lets be honest its men shoving their cocks up their own asses while dressing up as women, and naking refferences to sex, for the sake of entertainment. Thers nothing family friendly about it. Nor should there be as part of the appeal of drag is that its something that is restricted to adults. Likewise they arent heroes, they are entertainers, not doctors, not construction workers, entertainers no more worthy of praise then a person on a sitcom.

Drama outside of Drag Race: While drama on the show is to be expected and is part of what makes it entertaining, drama outside of the show is different its more personal and something that in truth should not be shared. However by presenting it as gossip on various shows they are saying its part of the show, which is unhealthy at best.

Final note.

While I am critising the Drag Race, I am not doing it because I dislike the show, I am infact a big fan of the show but at the same time I want to get my thoughts out there see how others view these topics.

[missjanjie]

Branjie Fic | How Wonderful Life Is (While You’re in the World)

Title: How Wonderful Life Is (While You’re in the World) Summary: This is an epilogue/sequel to tiny dancer, because an extra dose was necessary. Word Count: ~1.7k Relationship: Branjie (Brooke Lynn Hytes/Vanessa Vanjie Mateo) Rating: T

Read on AO3

“I thought you’d be a little more excited by now,” A’keria observed. “You only graduate college once.”

Vanessa shrugged, setting the glue stick down. They’d been spending the day decorating their caps, but her heart just wasn’t in it. And that was because her heart was doing ballet in France. “I just miss her.”

“Come on, this was supposed to be a fun distraction,” Blair gently chimed in, resting her hand on her shoulder. “Brooke would want you to enjoy yourself, right?”

“Fuck, you make it sound like she’s dead,” she groaned and rest her head against the table. “How am I supposed to do this shit for another two months?” They were only two weeks into the ten-week engagement, and she already decided she couldn’t handle it.

A’keria pinched the bridge of her nose. “No, you just a drama queen. Aren’t you visiting her next month anyway? Bitching and moaning like you ain’t about to go to fucking France.”

Vanessa pushed herself up off the table, only to slump into her chair. “Y’all just don’t get it. We haven’t spent more than a few weeks apart in four years. I got separation anxiety!” Her cheeks flushed red, she was still embarrassed - she was self aware enough to know she was being childish and maybe a bit self-centered, but she couldn’t help herself; next to her mom, Brooke Lynn was the most important person in her life.

Blair nodded sympathetically. “Aw, honey, we understand. Why don’t we pick this up tomorrow? You should go give her a call before it gets too late over there. Go ahead, we’ll clean up here.”

A’keria arched her brow. “We will?”

“Yes,” she glared

Vanessa wasn’t paying attention to the bickering going on between her friends. Once Blair had given her the go-ahead to leave, she was gathering her things and heading right out the door. She glanced at her phone on the way out - it was about ten at night in Brooke’s side of the world, if she remembered correctly.

And lucky for her, Brooke Lynn was still awake and willing to Skype by the time she returned to their apartment.

“You’ve got glitter all over your face,” Brooke observed with a soft chuckle. “What sort of fun have you been getting up to over there?”

“None, I promise,” she retorted flatly. “We was decorating our caps but I just wasn’t feeling it. It’s kinda tacky at this point anyway,” she added, pulling dried glue off of her fingertips and flicking it away.

She pouted sympathetically. “Poor baby,” she cooed. “I think you should decorate it, though. It’s not like you to ever blend in.”

A slight smile twitched at the corners of her lips. “Yeah, maybe,” she shrugged. “How’s shit over there?”

“I mean, it’s hard to complain about this place,” she admitted with a soft laugh. “The only thing it’s missing is my beautiful girlfriend,” she cooed, batting her lashes.

Vanessa chuckled softly, looking down and pushing her hair off of her shoulders. “So, you ain’t gonna leave me for some fancy French bitch then?” She did her best to play it off as a lighthearted joke, but even after all this time, there was a nagging sense of doubt somewhere inside her that worried one day Brooke would wake up and realize she could do better.

Brooke scoffed and shook her head. “As if anyone in this entire continent could hold a candle to you. I’m offended at the mere suggestion, Vanj.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’ve just been missing you.”

“I miss you too, but you’ll be here before you know it, and you’ll have a shiny new degree to be proud of.”

She looked back at her half-decorated cap on the dresser. “Still kinda hard to believe.” On paper, it had looked like all the odds had been stacked against Vanessa from the get-go. No one ever truly believed that she had the intelligence and determination to earn a college degree. Hell, when she had finished her first year, people around her had been surprised.

Except for Brooke.

“No it’s not,” she replied without a moment’s hesitation. “You busted your ass from the moment I met you, I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone that tries as hard as you. You, my dear, are a force to be reckoned with.”

“Guess it’s hard to argue now that you got proof,” Vanessa conceded, “I just wish you was gonna be here for it.”

Brooke sighed sadly. “I do too, baby. But I promise, Nina’s going to be there livestreaming the whole thing to me.”

It wasn’t the same, but there was no point in belaboring the issue - it wasn’t going to change anything and they both would only feel worse. “You right, I know. Imma let you get to bed, talk to you tomorrow.”

“Alright, love you,” she blew a kiss at the screen.

“Love you too,” she smiled fondly and ended the call.

However, when Brooke Lynn closed her laptop, she didn’t leave it sitting on her desk. Instead, she packed it into its case and put it in with her luggage. She flopped down on her bed for a moment, she’s not an actress and lying to Vanessa was harder than any course she’d taken during her master’s program, especially seeing the sadness in her expression - it was physically painful, but she knew it would pay off.

The alarm went off on her phone moments later and she made her way to the front of the apartment building to wait for a taxi. “L'aéroport, s'il vous plaît,” her diction had improved, but her French was still remedial.

But she got there just fine and landed in JFK around midnight. She took the train back into Manhattan, then took a cab to Nina’s apartment. “Thanks for waiting up for me,” she whispered as she slipped inside and carefully closed the door behind her.

“No problem, but you definitely owe me,” Nina chuckled and grabbed her a bottle of water. “Now, tell me again why you’re waiting until her party to show up?”

Brooke took a swig from the bottle and set it down on the table. “Because the graduation ceremony is going to be too busy. Besides, the party is going to be all about her, it’ll be the perfect moment for, you know…”

Nina nodded in understanding. “She’s going to be so excited to see you. I can already hear it; ‘Brooke Lynn! You’re here!’” She imitated Vanessa’s distinct way of speaking, getting her friend to laugh and hopefully alleviating the nerves she knew were still lingering.

------

Vanessa ran to her family, one hand clutching her diploma and the other holding her cap steady on her head. “Y’all seeing this shit? I’m a fuckin’ graduate!” She beamed brightly as her family surrounded her with affection and praise, the reality that she had actually survived college - something even she didn’t anticipate for herself.

“Come on sweetheart, it’s time to celebrate,” her mother cooed, leading her into the car so they could relocate to the venue.

They had reserved a private party room at one of Vanessa’s favorite restaurants. It had already been decorated with balloons and congratulatory banners as family and friends began filing in.

“Aw, you guys! This is so nice of y’all,” Vanessa beamed as she looked around the room.

“Actually,” Nina started, practically bouncing on the balls of her feet with a giddy expression. “We have a little surprise for you.” She glanced over her shoulder, her smile brightening even more.

The room was silent, aside from some confused murmuring, until the sound of heels clacking against the hardwood floor got louder and louder until Brooke Lynn was standing in the doorway.

Vanessa’s eyes went wide and began to well with tears. “Brooke Lynn!”

“Hi, baby,” Brooke had barely gotten the phrase out before Vanessa launched herself at her. She caught her in a tight embrace, picking her up and spinning her around.

“I can’t believe you’re here! What about your show?”

She shrugged as she set her down. “The understudy agreed to do a couple shows so I could surprise my girlfriend,” she kissed her sweetly and ruffled her hair. “It’s so good to see you.”

Even after she was set down, Vanessa was still hugging her tight. “I’m so happy you’re here, oh my god,” she tilted her head up to blink away tears.

Brooke stroked her fingers through her hair, humming softly. Then she took a step back, swallowing thickly. “I… um… I actually have one more surprise for you.”

“You’re not pregnant, are you?”

She laughed awkwardly and shook her head. “No, this is just… something I’ve wanted to do since… honestly, since our first Thanksgiving together. I’ve been ready but… I finally think we’re ready,” she haphazardly rifled through her purse, her legs trembled as she got down on one knee.

The Mateo family had already erupted in excitement, scrambling for their phones and enthusiastically chattering in Spanish. Vanessa was the only quiet one, biting down on her knuckles as she was already starting to cry.

“Vanessa--”

“Yes!” “Let me finish!” Brooke giggled softly, then collected herself as quickly as she could, opening the box up. “Vanessa, I’ve loved you from the moment I met you, regardless of how stubborn I was about it in the beginning. But over these past four years, my love for you has only grown exponentially. And that’s why I want to ask you… will you marry me?” There was a beat of silence. “You can answer now.”

“Yes!” It was somewhere between a scream and a sob, Vanessa hardly knew what to do with herself, so she just threw her arms around Brooke and cried into the crook of her neck until she had pulled herself together enough to slide the ring onto her finger. “Damn, look at this rock!” She exclaimed to distract herself and everyone else from how much of a mess she was.

“This bitch really got a diploma and a wife on the same day,” A’keria remarked to Blair with a laugh. “But I’ll be damned if there ain’t anyone that deserves it more.”

As the newly-engaged couple embraced, the energy that surrounded them made it clear that everyone shared those sentiments. Brooke Lynn and Vanessa had been through a lot since the day they met in Katya’s dance class, but it was all worth it to lead up to this moment.

[friendlytikek]

Dadding Together (1/1)

On AO3.

Summary:  Not all dad jokes are a good idea, no matter how moody your teenager is.

Nobody ever told Charles that turning fifteen activated a magical switch in a teenager’s brain which transformed them into the grumpiest, most sarcastic, savage little beasts. Lorna’s only been fifteen for two months, and he’s certain all his hair is going to be grey before the third month is out.

“You know you can’t use your powers on other students, especially not on ones who aren’t mutants,” he tells her, once they’re in the house and Nina has been set down on the floor to play. He can hardly believe it. In all the years he’s known Lorna, she’s never had to be picked up from school for misbehaving. Now, back home, she’s apparently determined to continue her streak of trouble.

“Whatever. She started it,” Lorna says, staring down at her phone and flipping her green hair over her shoulder. It’s a line Charles has heard before, thanks to having five children. “I’m going to my room,” she announces, turning on her heel and heading straight for the stairs.

“No, you are not,” Charles says firmly, quickly wheeling himself into her path. Lorna almost walks into him, stopping just short of doing so, and raises her eyes from her phone, glaring. “You tripped over another student by making a pipe bulge through the floor and caused property damage to your school in the process. That can’t go unpunished. Give me your phone.” He holds out his hand expectantly. “You’re grounded for a month and your pocket money for the next six months is going towards paying for the damage.”

Already, Lorna’s mouth is gaping open. “You can’t do that!” she shouts, holding her phone well out of reach. “She didn’t even get hurt! Everyone’s overreacting, this is so unfair!” And to emphasise her point, she stamps her foot.

“Give me your phone,” Charles repeats calmly. “It doesn’t matter that she wasn’t hurt. The point is, she could’ve been, and you should not be using your powers to potentially harm others and definitely not to damage your school building.”

Lorna continues to glare, and Charles can pinpoint the exact moment she decides she’s not going down without a fight. The determination settles in her mind and she draws herself up to her full height, squaring her shoulders, looking like her father’s twin. “You aren’t taking my phone. I don’t have to listen to you. You’re not my dad.”

There’s no denying it; the words hurt, and Charles rolls his chair back slightly to process them. When he married Erik, when Lorna was a few months shy of turning three, they filed adoption paperwork, with no protests from Susanna. Legally, if not biologically, Charles is supposed to be as much her dad as Erik.

Swallowing hard, he sets his jaw. “Fine,” he says quietly. “We’ll see what your father has to say about this when he’s home.”

“Fine,” Lorna snaps back and with that, she flounces off upstairs, phone held triumphantly in hand. A few moments later, he hears her bedroom door slam.

Biting back hurt and anger, Charles turns back to Nina, who’s happily scribbling a drawing on a piece of paper. He clears his throat to try and dislodge the lump that’s formed there. “What are you drawing, sweetheart?” he asks, making his way over to her. She chatters excitedly about her drawing, the way a two-and-a-half-year-old does, and he transfers himself down onto the floor to help her with some of the details.

He knows, deep down, Lorna didn’t mean it, but that doesn’t really make it hurt any less.

.x.x.x.

Predictably, Erik takes his side. Even though he advocates for their kids using their powers in a serious fight (“Use whatever advantage you have to win!”), he agrees it’s wrong to damage the school building and to trip someone up over something as trivial as an argument about boys.

Lorna gets grounded, her phone is confiscated, and she doesn’t fight Erik about any of it.

“You know she didn’t mean the dad thing,” Erik says later that night, after Charles explains exactly what happened. They’re lying in bed, ready to fall asleep. “She’s a teenager. They say stupid things all the time.”

Even though Charles knows it’s true, the hurt doesn’t quite fade away.

.x.x.x.

Grocery shopping with Erik and five children is a pain and Charles knows he really should start doing it during the week, when he only has Nina’s desires (and, okay, yes, his own) to contend with and everyone else is at work and school.

“Can we get chocolate?”

“I want popcorn!”

“I scream!”

“What’s for dinner?”

“Can we get this?”

Charles stares at Erik in exasperation as he holds up a Stormtrooper helmet. He doesn’t even know how he managed to find it on the cereal aisle. “Erik, as much as I’d like to buy that, I’d actually much prefer it if you could help me wrangle our five kids, so we all survive this shopping trip,” he tells him.

Chuckling, Erik puts the helmet back down on a shelf. Someone, at least, knows when not to push for something they don’t need. Charles breathes a slight sigh of relief.

In response, Nina bangs her hands on the handlebar of the trolley again. “I scream!” she repeats, kicking her feet.

“Daaaaaad, I want this chocolate!” Pietro whines, almost immediately afterwards. Someone has clearly zoomed ahead to the candy aisle while his dads blinked.

“Chocolate and popcorn!” David shouts, and it’s not fair, because David, their six-year-old who’s rapidly approaching seven, is usually the quietest of the lot. They’ve hit the jackpot today.

Charles is fairly certain kids don’t really need food to survive. They could probably all go home right now. He raises his fingertips to his temples and rubs a few circles, already able to feel the beginnings of a headache coming on.

At least Wanda is behaving, but even she tugs on Erik’s sleeve, to ask again, “What’s for dinner?”

“We’ll decide soon, Liebling,” Erik assures her.

There’s a heavy sigh from behind them, and Charles is rolling his eyes before he can stop himself. “What is it, Lorna?” he asks, as politely as he can, turning around to face her. Out of the corner of his eye, he catches Erik looking at him, and his husband pushes thought of warning towards him.

“This is boring,” Lorna huffs, throwing her hands up in the air. “I need my phone.”

“You do not need your phone,” Charles says, as patiently as he can. “You will not be having your phone back until Monday morning, before you go to school, and you’ll be giving it back to us as soon as you get back. You know why.”

There’s a groan of frustration from Lorna, and she folds her arms across her chest, glaring at the nearest shelf.

Charles hopes that’s going to be the end of it.

(It is not.)

The kids continue to ask for things all the way around the store. They all know they’re only allowed one treat per shopping trip, but they’re pushing their luck today. Money isn’t an issue, but Charles is determined not to spoil them.

And Lorna mopes and drags her feet the entire time.

“I’m hungry,” she complains, when they’re finally on their way to the checkout line.

Charles takes a deep breath, ready to remind her they always decide on lunch when they’re in the car, but instead, something floats into his mind. He grabs it, and rolls with it. It’s one of his funnier dad jokes, he thinks, before he’s had chance to actually think it through.

“Hi Hungry, I’m not your dad.”

The reaction is instantaneous. Pietro howls with laughter, which in turn makes Nina giggle and David laughs nervously too. There’s an audible gasp from Wanda, while Lorna’s face has gone white and her mouth has dropped open in shock. Erik is covering his face with his hand.

Once everyone’s recovered, Erik sighs, lowers his hand, and gestures to the youngest ones in their brood, except for Nina, who is still sitting in the trolley. “Take these three and wait outside, Charles,” he says. “Lorna and I will deal with the shopping.” You didn’t have to sink to her level, he thinks, You know she didn’t mean it.

When Lorna doesn’t complain about the suggestion, Charles realises he actually has hit a nerve. Hurt radiates from Lorna’s mind, and she stares down at her feet. Guilt begins to swirl in his stomach, and he goes to open his mouth, intending to apologise, but Erik shoots him another look and nods his head in the direction of the doors.

Charles shepherds Wanda, Pietro, and David out of the store, and they wait just outside of the doors. The car is quite close, in an accessible bay, but he doesn’t like to sit in a stationary car for too long, not since the incident which left him paralysed, ten years ago now.

Eventually, Erik, Lorna, and Nina appear, bags full of shopping now in the trolley. They all pile into the minivan and Lorna still doesn’t say a word to Charles.

It’s safe to say, it’s a very awkward drive home, even with the younger kids chattering away. Lunch ends up being a rather sad pile of sandwiches.

.x.x.x.

Throughout dinner, Charles and Erik have a mental conversation about whether it’s right to stoop down to the same level as their kids. It consists of multiple reminders that Erik has dropped some bigger goofs in the almost fourteen years they’ve been together, but eventually, Erik winds up winning with a simple point.

We chose all our kids, together, he says, Except Lorna. Of course she’s going to be a little sensitive. I think maybe she thinks you feel ‘stuck’ with her because you married me.

But that’s not true at all, Charles thinks back, shocked. He might be a telepath, but he isn’t the best at always understanding what his kids are feeling. I love her. She’s my daughter.

Erik shoots him a look, but it’s followed with a soft smile. Go remind her of that, then, you complete and utter dad.

That’s when Charles realises that, at some point during their engaging mental discussion, Lorna has excused herself from the table. He sighs and makes short work of the rest of his dinner, then excuses himself, too, and heads upstairs to Lorna’s room.

When he reaches her room, he steels himself and knocks twice on the closed door. “Lorna? It’s your dad,” he says.

There’s a long silence from inside the room. Charles does his best not to peek into Lorna’s mind, giving her the privacy she seems to want right now. Finally, after what feels like forever but is likely no more than thirty seconds, there comes a quiet, “I know. Come in, Dad.”

Of course, she probably sensed the wheelchair and the elevator rising to the second floor. With some trepidation, he pushes open the bedroom door and enters. Lorna moves from being curled on her side, to sitting upright on the edge of the bed. Swallowing, Charles approaches, and they look up at each when he comes to a stop.

“I’m really sorry,” they both blurt at the same time, before blinking at each other in surprise. Then they give each other tentative smiles, and Charles reaches to take her hands between his, squeezing gently.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats. “That was a stupid joke I told, and I’m sorry I hurt you. I’m supposed to be the adult here.”

“Dad,” Lorna starts, but Charles isn’t finished by a longshot, so he squeezes her hands again.

“Let me finish,” Charles says quietly, looking at her pleadingly. “You’re always going to be my daughter, even if I didn’t adopt you under the same circumstances as your siblings. I’ve still been through all the same things with you as I have with them. Potty training. Stomach bugs. Setting money aside for a college fund. You don’t have to call me dad, if you’d rather not, but I’m always going to see you as my daughter.”

Lorna’s eyes are visibly wet, and Charles worries he’s said the wrong thing again, but then she chokes out, “Of course you’re my dad. You’ll always be my dad.”

The relief is almost overwhelming, and Charles goes to speak again but before he can, Lorna is on her feet and throwing her arms around him. His wheelchair almost topples, and he can feel Lorna quickly securing it with her powers before her grip around him tightens and she buries her face in his shoulder. It’s a bit of an awkward angle, but they make it work, and Charles’ arms go around her, too.

They stay like that for a long time, and Charles wouldn’t have it any other way.

.x.x.x.

“I told you she didn’t mean it,” Erik says, when they’re in bed that night, and he’s curled up around Charles.

“I knew she didn’t mean it,” Charles tells him. “It still hurt. I could’ve handled it better,” he admits.

“You could’ve,” Erik agrees. “But it’s over with now. You handled it well in the end.”

Charles hums his agreement. “We aren’t all that bad at this ‘dadding’ thing,” he says, casually. The follow-up is, by now, anticipated: “Maybe we should have one more.”

There’s a chuckle from behind him. “Go to sleep, Charles. We’ll talk about it in the morning.”