#my tags are usually a clusterfuck so if you’re ever like

[tonguetyd]

Hey if you don't mind me asking, what's the 'holding up 3 fingers' thing for The Love You Want? Not sure what it means sorry!

Oh of course anon!!

So back in December while Sleep Token was doing their Germany tour, they announced after 2(?) shows that iii had to suddenly leave for family reasons. Obviously, everyone was worried about him and wanted to do something to show him love and that we were all thinking of him, so during TLYW everyone in the crowd held up 3 fingers. I think there were like…4? shows they did that for thru the end of the tour and by the 2nd the guys were also doing it.

There is an absolutely *devastating* video of Vessel holding up 3 fingers and then it pans to iv who is visibly shaking and frantically wiping his eyes and it breaks me. Every time. I will see if I can find it in here and reblog it for you - might take a second. It’s PAIN!!

Anyway that’s what the tags on that post meant, I’m sure they just took out TLYW to make room for Missing Limbs (which. also fucking devastating.) but I am a menace to myself and take everyone down with me 😇😂

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Duff 17

Warnings: groping, insecurity, food and body issues, manipulation, and the usual. Proceed with caution.

Feedback is always welcome. Love you and thanks for the wonderful responses so far. ♥♥♥♥

Image credit (I want to give dues where due but don’t want the creator to keep getting tagged in my posts as I have been approached by some before that they don’t want me in their notifs)

You get up to your apartment and lock the door, double checking before you can bring yourself to step away. Finally a chance to breathe, but you can’t.

You go to the counter, plopping your bag on top as you try to gulp down air. The roll and clatter of some unseen object can’t break through your panic.

What the fuck? What the fucking fuck!?

You don’t get it. Curtis, Andy, all of it. One big clusterfuck with no escape. Some weirdo you got stuck with in the club is not your personal pest and your own boss can’t take a hint.

Since when did you become some hot commodity? How could you take for granted all those years of being overlooked? You’d give anything to never be seen again.

You clumsily reach for your bag and fish out your phone. You can barely grip it as your breaths remain shallow and your hands tremble. You pull up your chat with Stephanie and text her; then Isla, then Mindy. You need someone.

You stare at the empty checkmarks. You’ll be lucky if you get a response before the morning. Some friends. 

All your anger and resent boils up until you’re crying again. You were always the odd one out, the third wheel, always left with the scraps and now look what it got you. You blame them. For exiling you to the status of DUFF. For not giving a goddamn shit. Not one of them checked in after that night at the club.

You could throw your phone. Instead you swipe away the more than twenty messages piled up in your notification bar. All from the same person. Curtis is insane, you know that much. You should’ve seen it sooner. You should’ve let yourself see it sooner but you really thought you’d met a decent guy. The first guy to actually see you, but not he’s way too focused on you.

You feel helpless, trapped. You don’t know what to do. You can’t even hide at work with your desperate boss hovering like a shark. How did you not see that either? Well, you wouldn’t expect it. You’ve worked for Andy for almost a year and he’s never tried anything. 

Maybe it’s you. Maybe you’re sending all the wrong signals. Well, you don’t even know what kind of signals to send. When you want someone to leave you alone, they bother you, and when you’ve only ever wanted a bit of attention, you were castigated.

You give up. You get a hold of yourself and count until your heartbeat evens out. You plug your phone into the charger and pick up the half-empty bottle of mint-flavoured sparkling water from the floor. You place it back on the counter and drag your feet across the unlit living room.

You’ll call in, take a day to recover. Maybe one of the girls will finally answer their messages and you can get some ideas from them. One thing for sure, you’re locking yourself up in this place and not going anywhere.

You go into the bathroom, flicking on the light. You look in the mirror and sigh. Are you really the type to drive men mad?

You rinse your face and brush your teeth. You go through the motions, hoping routine can comfort you. It hardly does.

You enter the bedroom and flip off the bathroom light. You walk through the dark. You're too drained to turn on the lamp as you approached the bed.

You strip down to your underwear and pull on the tee shirt you left rumpled up by your pillow. You nestle under the covers and resist another wave of tears. You feel lost. You don’t know which way to go.

You squeeze your eyes shut and pray for sleep. You just need to forget everything. You just need a break. You–

You don’t drink sparkling water. You sit up and hold a cramped breath in your chest. That bottle. Mint? What kind of psycho buys organic mint water?

Your heart hammers. Your phone is out in the kitchen. Shit. 

You get up slowly and listen to the silence of your apartment. You creep towards the door, your footsteps light but scuffing over the carpet and onto the hardwood. You pause just in the doorway as you try to see through the dark into the front room.

You hear the slow roll of the closet door folding back too late. In a moment, you’re wrenched off your feet. You flail and kick, your voice muffled beneath the rough palm as you claw blindly at the figure behind you. His low hush warms the shell of your ear.

“It’s okay, bunny,” Curtis grits softly, “I’m going to take care of you.”

He keeps his hand over your mouth, snug against your nose, blocking all air. Your eyes bulge as you fight to breathe and his thick arm comes up around your neck, squeezing enough to make you dizzy.

"I know you love me. Let me show you how much I can love you..." He rasps.

The world speckles around you, the distant noise of the city pulsing until silent, your eyelids closing against your will, casting you into horrifying black.

[allyecrivaine]

Looking Out for You - Part 2

link to part 1

Oswald Cobblepot x Reader

Word count: 1,602

Summary: The guys at the club are not warming up to Oswald, and it’s up to you to keep an eye on him. After you help him out in a big way, you start to question your own motives, especially now that your thoughts are turning violent.

tags: fem reader, sfw, reader progressing towards being unhinged, swearing, some violence, knife mentioned

warnings: strong language, some violence, short description of injuries

[feedback appreciated as usual! enjoy!]

~

~

Something about men enraged you. Besides a few friends you’d grown up with, you’d hardly ever met a man you could even stand to be around. You tolerated flirting with customers because you knew you could get money out of them — god forbid one of them tried talking to you when you were off the clock, though. Once they could see you had no interest, they revealed their true, entitled selves every time.

Men were pigs, but so far, Oswald was one of the few exceptions to that rule.

Looking out for poor Ozzie was more of a hassle than you’d anticipated. You’d assumed at first that he would assimilate into the club’s culture eventually, and he would ultimately gain respect from Fish’s other henchmen.

Unfortunately, he never did. He ran her errands, rubbed her feet, and was essentially a servant to the woman. The other men saw this as something that made him weak — he wasn’t out there getting information for Fish, torturing people, killing them. The guys were pissed that the umbrella boy who didn’t even get his hands dirty was slowly becoming Fish’s trusted ear, so they started to take it out on him.

The first time you saw it with your own eyes, you were swamped at work, running drinks all over the club and just trying to keep up. In the clusterfuck of it all, you heard a commotion. You turned your head to look just as one of the brutes started wailing on Oswald, kicking him as he fell to the floor.

Setting down the platter you were holding, you ran over to the back of the club where it was happening.

“Hey, hey! What the fuck is this?” you yelled, stepping right up to the fight and trying to strong-arm the idiot who was kicking Oswald.

“Not your business, that’s what it is,” the guy hissed, “little Penguin’s only getting what he already had coming.”

He tried stepping forward again, but you stepped in between him and Oswald.

“You’re wasting Ms. Mooney’s time and money,” you spat, “that’s what you’re doing. Why don’t you go do your job?”

The large man stood with his arms crossed, glowering down at you.

“You really think you can bitch at me? You never waste time at work? You never take the most generous customer into a back room, and-”

Reaching under your dress, you pulled out a knife that you kept concealed in a garter-like strap. Before he could continue his tirade, you held the knife up to his crotch, with enough pressure to already hurt.

“Oh, I’m really sorry,” you fake-gasped, “be super careful! If you keep talking, it might accidentally make my hand slip.”

You stared up at the man, unrelenting. He tried to stand his ground, but the increasing pressure from the knife made him huff and turn away.

Grumbling, you pulled up your dress again, placing the knife back in its slim pocket. You turned around and looked down at Oswald, sitting up on his elbows and staring at you from the floor.

“That’s not a great angle to be seeing me at right now,” you said sarcastically, pulling your dress down over your leg and extending your hand to help him up.

Oswald turned red as he stumbled to his feet. “God, I’m sorry, I wasn’t...”

He trailed off when he saw you grinning, realizing you were only kidding. He smiled, looking relieved for a multitude of reasons.

“Thank you,” he said, “I, uh, normally could handle something like that, but he just flew off the handle and I-I wasn’t prepared.”

You glanced at the man, now standing behind the bar, back in his normal security position. You wrinkled your nose at him, then turned back to Oswald.

“Meatheads like that are always super on-edge from the roids, or whatever it is,” you sighed, “I’m glad he didn’t fuck you up too bad, at least.”

Oswald winced. “Actually, he did kind of mess up my stomach.”

“Oh, let’s go to the bathroom, I know where the first aid kit is,” you said, pushing Oswald in the direction you needed to go.

“No, it’s okay, it’s not that-”

“Honey, trust me, it’ll be better to take care of any bumps and bruises now,” you told him sternly, “it’ll make your night a lot more bearable.”

The two of you walked quickly to the employee bathroom, locking the door behind you so that nobody would follow you in.

You rummaged through a cabinet, looking for the first-aid kit while Oswald unbuttoned his shirt.

Remembering something the meathead had said before, you paused, frowning to yourself. 

“You know, I don’t...take customers, uh, privately.”

“Huh?” Oswald mumbled, struggling with a button.

Finding the kit and taking it in hand, you turned around, pursing your lips.

“That security idiot said I waste time by, um, taking rich guys into private rooms,” you muttered, setting down the box in frustration. “I just hate when people accuse me of stuff like that, just ‘cause I have to flirt with the customers and all that shit.”

Oswald looked at you, trying to read your face.

“I didn’t believe that, anyway,” he said quietly, “and even if you did, what’s it to me? Your job is your job, it’s not my business.”

You shrugged.

“I dunno. I don’t want you thinking I’m...well, I really don’t know,” you stumbled. You actually weren’t sure why you cared what Oswald thought about it; you were never one to explain yourself like that.

The conversation was forgotten as soon as Oswald was able to wiggle out of his shirt, exposing the bare skin of his torso. You gasped quietly, covering your mouth with your hand.

“What the fuck, Oz, I- what the fuck? Did he have, like, a dagger on his shoe?” you asked frantically. Oswald’s torso was covered in scrapes and cuts, some so deep that it made you squeamish.

He looked in the mirror, cringing at the sight. “Those might be from earlier, too.”

You paused, frowning. “What do you mean, earlier?”

Shrugging, he began to soak cotton pads in peroxide from the first aid kit.

“Some of the other guys, they, um...” he hesitated, “in the alley outside.”

You took the cotton pads from his hands and began to soak his worst wounds, and he grimaced from the sting.

“Which guys?” you asked, trying to keep a neutral face. Inside, you felt yourself seething. 

“The ones who are sort of under Butch,” Oswald explained, using air quotes for ‘under.’ You both knew Butch was still completely under Fish’s thumb, no matter how much power he pretended to have.

“Mmm,” you hummed pensively, “so Michael, Anthony...that group of guys?”

“It was really just Anthony, the rest just, uh, stood there,” he said quietly. You placed bandages over Oswald’s cuts, then got out some balm to put on his stomach to help with bruising.

"Hm,” you hummed in response. Keeping your temper under control was a challenge in unexpected situations like this. “Just...keep your head down. I don’t think Fish really likes Anthony, anyway, so maybe he’ll be out of our hair soon.”

Oswald nodded, wincing as you pressed the balm onto an already tender bruise. Once you finished up, you packed up the first aid kit and put it away.

“Thank you, again,” Oswald said, putting his shirt back on and starting to button it. He kept his eyes down. “I, um...why do you help me?”

You paused. “Oh? What do you mean?”

“It sounds stupid,” he said, chuckling to himself, “but people aren’t usually on my side. Historically speaking.”

Before you could say anything, he continued, starting to ramble. “But you, I mean, getting up in that guy’s face, giving me bandages, it’s very...kind. Unexpected. Not that I don’t think you’d be nice, obviously, just-”

You felt your face heat up as you shrugged, interjecting. “I don’t really know, Oswald, you’re just a nice guy, and I, um...”

Realizing you had no idea why you wanted to help him, you stopped yourself while you were ahead, opting to shrug again and avoid eye contact with him.

“I do appreciate it,” Oswald said quietly, “kind people are few and far between in Gotham. Especially in our...line of business.”

You gave him a curt nod, trying not to be awkward about it.

“Don’t mention it,” you said with a tightlipped smile, trying to diffuse the awkwardness. “Let’s go back out there before anyone notices we’re missing.”

After the two of you left the bathroom and parted ways, you continued racing around the club all night. You noticed that you were distracted, forgetting people’s orders or bringing them to the wrong tables. Your mind was elsewhere.

Why were you so eager to help Oswald? It wasn’t like you to be overtly generous. Not that you weren’t normally nice at all, but you’d never gone out of your way for someone you barely knew.

Not only that, but why couldn’t you stop thinking about the thugs who were beating him up? Every few minutes you’d remember the cuts all over Oswald’s torso, and you’d see red. 

Maybe working for Fish was getting to you, being around violence constantly. Even if you weren’t always the sweetest, you had never been prone to violent outbursts or anything...but now, your thoughts were completely overwhelmed, you could barely stop thinking about what you wanted to do to those men. 

They shouldn’t even be working for Fish, what use did she have for them, anyway? Waste of time, money, space.

They deserved to disappear.

[jaskiersvalley]

I absolutely adore your work! HE and the illiterate witchers and just everything in general! You have such a gentle and kind way of writing! When Geralt overheard the conversation at the hospital and finally understood what Jaskier was saying?? It hit me in the heart! We often come to realisations well after from something unconnected! It's extremely relatable! I also really appreciate your TDLRS! If I feel worried or think something might be triggering I can always check it and know what's up!

So I may have sat on this ask for close to a year. Oops. Did I get very self-conscious about feeling like I talked too much about Heart Exchange at some point? You bet. So now I'm shuffling in, head bowed in apology and offer you some Geraskier. TLDRs, as usual, are in the tags but, if there is ever anything that needs a tag or I can do differently to help avoid triggers/things you just don't want to read then do let me know (and I won't take a year to respond this time, I promise!).

Blaviken was a clusterfuck to say the least. To top off an already nightmarish situation, Geralt had to go and get cursed as a final insult to injury. If he understood the words correctly, he was forever cursed to seem like a monster to his one true love. On one hand, Geralt didn't much care. He didn't believe in one true love bullshit and nobody actually went around falling in love with a Witcher. On the other hand, he couldn't help but wonder whether the person who flinched away from him or turned and hurried away might have seen him more beast than man. Maybe it was the person who could have given him a speck of hope and warmth in an otherwise cold and hard world.

The years trickled by, Geralt found himself with a bard tagging along. He had looked intrigued by Geralt, even when he realised he was a Witcher. Slowly but surely he found himself warming up to Jaskier.

"You're the first Witcher I met," Jaskier prattled on, heedless of Geralt's grunts. It seemed that he was content to take the silence, the hums and terse words, and spin them into a conversation by himself.

Really, Jaskier was an odd one. He had taken it on himself to help turn the tide on the opinion the Continent held about Witchers. One village, one tavern at a time, he sang, he cajoled, he smiled and, as they left the settlements behind, there was a lingering sense of contentment.

There was just one issue. As loud and proud Jaskier was, he made no secret of loving Geralt. It was nice, in a way but Geralt couldn't help feel a pang of disappointment. Jaskier loved him, declared it often enough. But that meant they weren't destined to be a couple. And, if Geralt ever hoped that it might change, he rapidly reeled his emotions back in. If he went and fell in love with Jaskier then the spell might activate. And Gerlat didn't think the fragments of his heart that remained could survive the disgust and horror when he turned into a monster in front of Jaskier. So he kept his distance, didn't allow his heart to flutter in his chest each time Jaskier touched him. It was forbidden and it was for the best.

"Come to Kaer Morhen with me," Geralt rumbled late one night when Jaskier was already half asleep after performing for a considerable crowd.

"Alright."

Somehow, Geralt half hoped Jaskier wouldn't remember his request. But, the next morning, Jaskier was already making a list of things he'd need to survive winter in a cold castle. In Geralt's opinion he needed far too much lube but that was just his stingy opinion.

The trek up the mountain was oddly peaceful. Occasionally he caught Jaskier squinting at him in the half light of dusk but he assumed that his human eyes were tired or the light was bothering him. Finally, they made it to Kaer Morhen, last to get back for the season. As the others came to greet them, Jaskier gasped.

"You're all Witchers?"

The question made no sense and Geralt ushered Jaskier off to bed, assuming he needed a bit of sleep. Not that the following morning was much better, Jaskier woke, marched down into the kitchen and lined the Witchers up, looking over them.

"I don't understand. What happened?"

"I went through two bouts of the trials and mutations," Geralt offered sullenly. "It changed me."

The stare from Jaskier was scrutinising and puzzled. It was only Eskel's hesitant, "What do you actually see, bard?" that helped solve the puzzle.

"All the stories I'd heard about Witchers made them out to be monsters who had once been men. Meeting Geralt, I could well believe that. But you lot-" he gestured at the others, "-you're nothing of the sort."

"But what do you see?" Eskel pushed.

"I see," Jaskier trailed off as he looked at Geralt and glanced away with a frown. "I don't know. Something huge, monstrous and terrifying. It's just Geralt but I couldn't tell you what he looks like. Yet I'll recognise him when I see him."

"The curse!" Lambert crowed in delight, not that Jaskier understood.

"Sometimes, when the light was low in the evening, I thought I could catch a glimpse of what Geralt had been before the transformation. Silver hair, scarred but built like a wet dream. His eyes were the same though, a beautiful amber-yellow."

Lambert was full on cackling while even Eskel grinned. His next question was one that had Geralt and Jaskier blushing.

"Yet you still travelled with him, shared a bedroll with him, heck, you even kissed him. Why?"

"Because I love him."

There was a grunt from Geralt and he stared at the ground. "Then why didn't the curse break?"

"Curse?"

It took a few minutes to explain and Jaskier hung onto every word of the story with large eyes. He was the one who ended up chuckling by the end, turning to Geralt to cup a grotesque cheek. "My darling, I love you as you are. I fell in love with my monstrous Witcher, not some very handsome man. I wouldn't want to change you for the world."

He kissed Geralt gently then, no hesitation. "Plus, I find you incredibly sexy like this. Anyone can fuck a human, Witcher or otherwise. But you? You're exquisite. I'd gladly bed you, scars, gnarls and all. You're unique and I can't get enough of you."

Blinking dumbly, Geralt took a moment before he wrapped a hand and Jaskier's wrist and started tugging him back towards their bed.

[internalsealpanic]

Work In Progress

summary: Your best friend calls you in the middle of the night telling you to meet him at his new pent house. Not finding anything strange about this you comply and meet him there where a 5(?) year old proceeds to threaten you with a kitchen knife. 

Main Masterlist

Series Masterlist

a/n: This is a mini scenario for the Dick Grayson x Merc! Reader. This is set during that time when Dick was batman. 

“Grayson, who is this woman?”

 You blatantly ignore  Damian “Wow, Dickenson, when you said he was rude you weren't kidding.” Dick grimaces  as he can already sense these two won't get along. You and Damian size each other up. You enjoy towering over the little gremlin. 

“Hey baby vamp, the name's (y/n),”

 “My name is Damian, you will address me as such, and that doesn't answer my question.”He snarls. There's an easy to miss glint of amusement in your eyes and a pinching in your brow. You can tell Dick and Damian are both pretty apprehensive about this from the tightness in their shoulders, the frown on Damian's face, and the slump in Dick's usually open posture. You’ve  been here before. You can do this. Not first or the last brat that will test your patience. 

“I'm Dick's-uh- friend and I'll be helping him out a little, considering-”flourishing your hand ever so vaguely ”And since you were rude, you'll have to earn the right to be called by your name,”

“Or I could just rip your throat out,”

You level him an unimpressed look, eyes half lidded almost sleepy. “Baby vamp, you're gonna have to do better than that if you wanna scare any of Flippy's friends least of all me,”

Even with the knife's point pressed to the thin flesh of your throat, all you could focus on was just how amusingly angry he was. The image of a dirty red hoodie briefly flashed in your mind  and some part of you withered at the memory. Unbeknownst to you the slip of memory was betrayed in the slightest tightening of your lips. There was a heavy coil of tension settling on the room as you two stared at each other. Neither of you is willing to back down. The slow, casual drumming of your fingers against the granite top carrying their collective nerves higher and higher. 

"Master Damian, I do hope that isn't how you intend to greet all of our guests." The tension in the room is suffused with Alfred's entrance. Damian lowered the blade making an odd 'tt' sound. 

"Ms. (y/n), I hope you don't intend to antagonize him" Alfre said, directing a look of stiff disappointment. 

"Tim and Jason were both ok with their nicknames" she dismissed in a half hearted defense. 

"Speaking of which where is Timbers?" You lied.  Dick let a little air out of his nostrils in place of the laugh caught in his chest. He could only imagine how frustrated Tim would be when he discovers he still hasn't shed his nickname. 

"I assume Master Richard hasn't properly briefed you on the situation,"

"Does he ever?” Dick gave you the ‘how dare you’ look while you simply shrugged taking a bite out of the sandwich you had made. “Nope, got home after a nice night out, opened my phone to a couple of voicemails telling me he needed help, and here I am making both of us a sandwich in the middle of the night with a crotch gremlin pointing a butter knife at my throat. What am I missing here, Mr. Pennyworth?"

Alfred sent Dick, what you considered,  a satisfyingly withering look which made him age, at least, 30 years. The poor man was going to age 100 years by dawn. "Well, to start off Bruce is- well, he's not here-" this got your brows to shoot up. "-Tim's gone off somewhere and well, I've taken over as Batman" 

"Well that's certainly a turn of events. And the crotch gremlin?"

"Bruce's"

"Bruce's" you repeat obviously bewildered as if the repetition could make it make sense. 

You look at Damian again. He glares at you with as much visceral contempt as he could. You turn to Alfred. 

"He's too lively,"

"Ok,  he scowls like him, but so did Dick when he was microbial," 

"Hey!"

"You're right. You still scowl like a 5 year old when you lose at air hockey" He makes an affronted noise. “At least, I didn’t punch the crane machine,” You glare at him and Alfred, again, ages. 

 “Anyway, what d'ya  need me to do Fly Boy?”

“She just never calls anyone by their name does she?”

 “Nah, she's just cranky?”

 “Well?” You prompted putting a hand on your hip and mentally noted to shove his sandwich down his throat before you go home. Dick could see the murder in your eyes. He knew he had to pick his next few words carefully. Sure, you retired from being a merc but you were still deadly as hell, hot but still deadly.  

“I am going to ask you a huge favor. It's temporary til I've worked something out-” 

“You want me to check up on Haven, don't you?”

Dick nods sheepishly looking at you with earnest blue eyes which he knew would work on you even if you saw it coming. 

 “Manipulative bastard” you hiss under your breath as you pinch your nose. Your shoulders rose then sunk then slumped. “Fine but you do understand I can't do that full time?”

“I know,” He said, trying not to look smug. “Thank, boo, you’re the best,” Dick said, giving you one of his patented Grayson hugs and a sloppy peck on the cheek as thanks(?). Dick was a usual still overly affectionate with you. Not that you really minded. You roll your eyes and look at the brat who was still glaring at you and you could already feel yourself getting sucked into co-parenting the kid. It was inevitable. 

Getting sucked back into the life of capes and cowls wasn’t your idea of a Friday night but because your best friend's family is a clusterfuck and a half you weren’t exactly gonna turn him down. Not when he had eye bags running down his dumbass face. 

Thanks for reading!

tag list: 

@idkmanicantenglish

@birdy-bat-writes

@batarella

@anothertimdrakestan (I thought you might like tiny Dami)

[laulink]

Nuts and Dolts wedding

A.N : SO, after the FUCKING HEARTBREAK that was V8C5 and ESPECIALLY its end, I was in pain. So much pain. For Penny, for Pietro, for Ruby, for EVERYTHING. Then I saw a post in which people wondered if Pietro and/or Penny would survive this clusterfuck and the person who had reblogged put in the tags something like “yes they will both survive and Pietro will live to walk Penny down the aisle” and I needed that so much. I didn’t even know but I needed that SO MUCH. So I decided to put it into a fic to (hopefully) alleviate some of the pain of my fellow fans. Enjoy !

    On a sunny spring day, a red-headed woman sat in a house in the middle of the woods, twiddling her fingers while watching the hands of the clock advance, inexorable, not knowing whether she wished time would stop or advance faster.

    It was the first time she’d ever felt like this. She could only guess the cause of her torment : Penny was nervous. She didn’t even know why ! This day had been planned very carefully, Weiss, Yang, Winter and even Nora, in her own way, had helped iron out every little detail and made sure everything would go well. And she had no reason to worry about Ruby either ! She knew her fiancée looked forward to this day just as much as her, she wouldn’t change her mind at the last minute.

    Penny pinched her cheeks in a -vain- attempt at calming her nerves. Everything would go well. She had no reason to be-

 “Hey ! Don’t mess with your make up !”

    Weiss’ hands slapped at her wrist to get her to let go of her cheeks. Penny held her hands up in a show of surrender, a small, apologetic smile accompanying them.

 “Sorry, sorry, I didn’t realise.

- Nervous ?” Winter asked, still focused on braiding Penny’s hair.

- A little,” Penny gave a small smile to hide her growing unrest. “I don’t know why though !

- Don’t worry, it’s normal,” reassured Weiss while picking up a brush and some make-up to fix the spots Penny had messed up. “This is a big day for you and Ruby. I wish I could say “the most important”, but considering, well…

- The actual war you two took a part in,” supplied Winter.

- … yeah, that. Anyway, this is the day you’ve waited for for months, years even, so of course your nerves would act up. Being nervous, excited and anticipating what it will be like is perfectly normal.”

    Done with her task, Weiss set down the brush and make-up and went around Penny to help Winter give her hair the final touches. At the same time they finished and told Penny to look at herself in the mirror, the door to the room opened-

 “Hell-”

    -and was slammed shut in the visitor’s face.

 “Weiss !” Penny exclaimed, surprised at her friend’s sudden violence. The young woman crossed her arms, but the glyph holding the door in place didn’t disappear.

 “What ? We can’t risk it being Yang, or Nora, or Ruby !

- I understand why Ruby can’t see me since Winter told me about wedding traditions, but what about Yang and Nora ?

- Those two wouldn’t hesitate to take a picture to show Ruby. They would think it a smart way to bend tradition.

- Come now, you’re being a bit unfair,” Winter admonished her. “Let’s start by seeing who this guest is.”

    The two sisters went to the door, Weiss grumbling about Yang and Nora absolutely being this ridiculous. Carefully, Weiss opened the door just a crack to see who was on the other side.

 “Oh, it’s just you.”

    Then she opened the door wider, enough to let her brother Whitley come into the room. He was massaging his nose, which appeared to be a bit red.

 “Just you ?! Is that really all you have to say to the brother you nearly disfigured ? On the day of a wedding no less ?!

- What about it, you’re not the one getting married.

- You little- !”

    Whitley balled and raised his fists, as if to fight Weiss, something they’d grown to do regularly since their reconciliation after the war, but he didn’t make another move, just looking angrily at his sister and gritting his teeth while Weiss gave him a smug grin. Penny giggled as she realised Whitley had stopped himself because he didn’t want to mess up the maid of honour’s appearance.

    The sound grabbed Whitley’s attention who turned his head toward Penny. His eyes went wide and his jaw dropped, leaving his mouth slightly open. Winter smiled at his reaction and asked him :

 “So, what do you think, brother ? Is Penny ready to get married ?”

    Whitley nodded eagerly, a big smile breaking over his face.

 “Definitely ! Ruby is one lucky woman, that’s for sure !”

    Penny blushed at her friend’s comment. It still felt a little weird, having people genuinely compliment her on her appearance. The military had designed her to be “cute” and “friendly-looking”, since she was supposed to be a protector for all of humanity and make people feel at ease around her, but she had almost never heard anyone compliment her looks before meeting Ruby -her father being an outlier and therefore not counted- and the comments she had heard had not always been very kind. Some of them had been uttered by the Schnee siblings’ very own father, “Jackass” as Yang liked to call him, so she had been a little anxious the first few times she had interacted with Whitley, the only one of the three who she hadn’t met before her first meeting with Jacques. Luckily, he was nothing like his father, contrary to the rumours she had heard about him, and they soon grew close and became friends.

 “Not that I doubt you, but I would appreciate looking at our Princess of the day myself.”

    Penny’s smile widened as she heard the familiar voice. Whitley smiled too while jumping out of the way to let Pietro Polendina enter the room and gaze upon his daughter.

 *********************************

    Pietro had always been a bit of an utopist, certainly a big optimist, yet even him wouldn’t have believed, 5 years ago, that he would one day see his biggest dream come true : seeing his daughter, radiating happiness in her wedding dress, about to go get married to the love of her life.

    Even if he had, his imagination could have never created something as perfect as the picture he had before him : his baby girl, now a beautiful woman, in a green, sleeveless dress, holding a bouquet of red roses similar to the ones adorning her hair that had been braided into a crown, her usual pink ribbon attached to it and falling down her back, green earrings completing her outfit. It made her look like a Fairy Queen right out of one of those old stories he used to hear as a child.

 “Dad ? Is something wrong ?” Penny asked, visibly worried.

    Pietro shook his head, only now realising he was crying. He wiped off his eyes and smiled at his daughter.

 “Nothing’s wrong, darling. I am just so, so happy for you.”

    Penny’s smile returned, fond, accompanied by a small blush.

 “Thanks, Dad.”

    An alarm started right next to him, coming from Winter. She took her scroll to shut it and told them :

 “It’s time.”

    Pietro nodded, then turned to Penny and extended his hand toward her.

 “Ready ?”

    Penny took a deep breath, then gave a resolute nod as she put her hand in his.

 “As I’ll ever be.”

 ********************************************

    The clearing Penny and Ruby had chosen to hold their wedding looked like it had been brought right out of a fairy tale. It was just a normal clearing on Patch, but Weiss, Yang and Nora had completely transformed it in just a few days ; beautiful patches of flowers on the edges, flowery arches leading up to the altar, elegant wooden benches on each side of the aisle and an impressive gazebo on the far end to hold the party after the ceremony.

    As Pietro and Penny approached, the band started playing the wedding march. Pietro could see Ruby tense up near the altar and turn her head toward them so fast he feared she would tear a muscle. Thankfully, she seemed to be fine… or too entranced by the sight of Penny to notice anything else, not even her sister and maid of honour poking at her side. Sneaking a glance at his daughter, Pietro noticed she was in much the same state : though all their friends and family members had gathered to witness their union, Penny didn’t spare them even a glance, entirely focused on her bride to be. It felt as though the two of them had locked themselves in their own little world where no one else existed, like they so often did. Still, Penny had no problem walking toward the altar and her future wife with him, advancing to the rhythm of the music.

    It was only hitting him now : he was walking his daughter down the aisle, on her wedding day, toward the person she had chosen to be her wife, to build a family with. Pietro felt the tears rise to his eyes again, but he held them back ; he didn’t want to miss a single second of this moment.

    After a minute that had felt endless and, at the same time, much too short, they stopped before the altar. Penny and Ruby’s gazes were locked together, love plain in their eyes, almost overwhelming, even for an onlooker. Pietro took a second to notice and appreciate that Ruby had chosen to wear a pink bow-tie, the Polendinas’ unofficial emblem, with her black, red and white suit to mark her entrance into their family, much like the red roses in Penny’s hair were a sign of her entrance into the Rose family. Then, he took Ruby’s hand, startling her, and placed Penny’s in it. Both women smiled warmly at him and he squeezed their joined hands between his own.

 “I am so happy for you two. That you found each other. That you supported each other through everything the world threw your way. And that you will now get to spend the rest of your hopefully long lives together.”

    There was so much more he wanted to say, but he figured he should keep some of it for his toast at the party. Ruby and Penny seemed to understand his feelings though, as their smiles widened and they bent down to hug him.

    The moment ended as Winter cleared her throat from behind the altar, the position from which she would officiate the ceremony, then looked at them expectantly. Pietro chuckled and let go of his girls, squeezing their hands one last time before going to take his seat and let the ceremony begin.

*************************************

    Later that night, as the band started playing the music of the first dance, Pietro took the measure of the blessing this day had been. Everything had gone perfectly ; the ceremony had been beautiful ; Penny and Ruby’s smiles as they pronounced their vows had almost blinded him ; their friends’ toasts had made everyone cry tears of laughter and happiness ; no one had burned anything down (though the night was still young, so he didn’t want to get too ahead of himself with this one) ; and now, his daughter was dancing in the arms of her new wife, moving to the sound of the soft music in the middle of the flowers, right under the moonlight.

    Everything was perfect.

    … or so he thought until he noticed small, vibrant green lights ignite in the air around the newlyweds. Everyone started murmuring as the lights multiplied, gliding along invisible waves, their light reflecting off the couple’s wedding rings and giving the scene an ethereal feel.

    Ruby and Penny noticed the small lights and smiled at each other, visibly delighted. And then it dawned on him.

    Fireflies.

    He never knew why, but the small bioluminescent bugs seemed to hold a special place in the hearts of the young couple. Whatever memories were already associated with them for Ruby and Penny, Pietro had no doubt this one would be among their dearest.

    The two women’s new life together was off to a great start already and, as they kissed, surrounded by the light of the fireflies, Pietro made a wish that the rest of their existence continue to be filled with love and happiness.

    That was his new biggest dream for the two of them.

[edgydepressedchoicesthot]

Endless Motivation

Summary: The Catalysts each give you some comfort and a peptalk.

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29225553

Word Count: 1,004

Notes: This couldn't have been done without my beta reader. You know who you are! <3 <3 <3

Tagging: @marmolady @ladyseaheart1668 @sceptilemasterr @bbaba-yagaa 

Diego Soto: Hey there. I hear things aren’t going so great right now. I might not know the details, but I do know that things aren’t always going to be like this. They will get good again. But until that happens, do your best to take care of yourself. If you can, try to talk to someone. I get the urge to hide things behind humor and a smile and whatnot, but burying your feelings is just gonna hurt you more in the long run. This is your story, and you’re not at the end yet. Keep going! I believe in you.

Estela Montoya: You’re angry that things are unfair? You’re right about that, and you’re right to be angry. You deserve better than this shit. That rage you’re feeling? Don’t hold it in and let it make you do things you’ll regret. Express it. Let it out. And if you can’t get rid of it? Use it to motivate you and direct it right at the problem. The world is apathetic at best, cruel at worst, but that’s all the more reason to fight. The surest way you’ll ever get anywhere better is to give it the fight of your life.

Sean Gayle: I’m sorry that things aren’t the best right now. I might not know what you’re going through exactly, but I can say for sure the game’s not done yet. Until then, you’ve got every day to do your best and take on what’s thrown at you. You’ve still got a chance for things to be good. And most important, don’t be quick to deny help when it’s offered. I can respect trust issues, but take it from a glutton for going it alone; having someone else with you through tough times can make all the difference.

Quinn Kelly: It’s okay to admit when things are bad. Pretending everything’s fine will only make you feel worse. But first things first, did you take care of yourself? When things are overwhelming for me, I try doing activities that get me out of my thoughts and take up my whole attention, like baking. When you’re doing a hobby like that, it pushes out your anxiety, and after, things might not look as bleak as they did before. Whatever’s going on, you’ll beat this. Because you’re way stronger than you think.

Jake McKenzie: Sorry that things are in the crapper right now. Things can go to shit real bad real fast, and sometimes it doesn’t look like there’s any way out. But there is, there always is. So until you see your moment, just focus on makin’ it to the next day, simplify things. Use whatever you can to motivate you. Love? Spite? Wanting a goddamn break? Those all work. Now go out there and give ‘em hell. Make whatever fucked with you never wanna fuck again.

Raj Bhandarkar: Hey, what you’re feeling right now? It’s okay. Rough patches are always…well, rough. But you gotta remember that the bad times aren’t forever. In the meantime, try to take care of you and your health as much as you can. Do something fun or have some comfort food, whatever usually lifts you up. You just focus on you right now and get back to whatever’s going on when you’re running on all cylinders. You’re gonna be alright, but here’s a hug just in case!

Michelle Nguyen: Listen to me. Life has a habit of throwing shit at you without stopping, and it’ll sometimes be so awful you’ll feel like you’re falling apart. So let yourself fall apart. Cry and rage as much as you need to. But when you’re done, pick yourself up and put the pieces back together. Things are only over if you give up, so you need to keep going. Move forward no matter what, and get your middle finger ready for anything or anyone that stands in your way.

Zahra Namazi: Soooo…things are shitty, huh? I’m not good with feelings but I definitely get that. It might seem scary and all, but any problem can be solved if you look at it from the right angle and think outside the box. Try to see it like a video game, and you’re fighting the boss or unlocking a dungeon. And sometimes, making an awful clusterfuck into a game works to make things seem less serious, and maybe less terrifying. Just…don’t give up, kay? That’s when it’s really done for good.

Grace Hall: I may not know the whole situation, but I am certain that you deserve better than what’s happening to you. No matter what you’re up against, you should know that you’re a lot stronger than you give yourself credit for. After you’re able to calm down, try to approach the situation rationally and don’t let doubts and fears take over your judgement. Also try to have confidence in your decisions. You’ve come this far, so please believe in yourself more!

Craig Hsiao: Hey bro, how you doing? I know things might suck real bad, but it’s still early to throw in the towel. Not gettin’ to where you wanted at first doesn’t have to spell “game over”. Sometimes, starting from scratch somewhere else can take you places better than you expected. Failure can screw things up a lot, and getting’ back up can be a pain in the ass. But it gives you a chance to start again. Something better’s comin’, so don’t give up yet.

Aleister Rourke: I am not the best at comfort, but if there is anything I do know, it’s loneliness in a terrible situation. Worst case, you will truly be alone and have only yourself to turn to. But I assure you that will not spell defeat. When approaching the matter at hand with logic and determination, there’ll be little that can stop you. Use your head to solve problems you face, and have the drive to put these solutions into action. If for nothing else, keep going to prove those who doubted you wrong.

[izartn]

On the The Host romance:

A lil note: @into-september as you’re reading Twilight, and your last post made me realise this, I thought it better to write my own post and tag you! Hope you don’t mind.

The Host is the first novel of an “adult” science fiction trilogy by Stephanie Meyer which never was finished. Published in 2008, the same year as Breaking Dawn, I guess she preferred gaining the benefits of her vampire saga to keep on writing. 

For shame, because for me, The Host is much better at establishing worldbuilding, a concept and its protagonists + a romance (not that there isn’t anything cuestionable in it, but to my taste it’s better done than in Twilight). Here is the first paragraph of The Host wikipedia’s section on plot: 

A species of parasitic aliens called "Souls" have invaded Earth, deeming the humans too violent to deserve the planet. When a Soul is implanted into a host body, the consciousness of the original owner is erased, leaving their memories and knowledge. 

Wanderer, a Soul, is placed into the body of Melanie Stryder. However, Melanie's consciousness is still alive and begins to communicate with Wanderer mentally. Wanderer's assigned "Seeker" suggests that she could be placed into Melanie to retrieve the memories before disposing of the defective body, but Wanderer makes several attempts to deny her Seeker's wishes. As Wanderer starts to uncover some of Melanie's memories of her younger brother Jamie Stryder and her boyfriend Jared Howe, Melanie gets her to follow a series of landmarks throughout the Arizona desert to find her Uncle Jeb, hoping that Jared and Jamie are with him. By doing so, she would be denying the Seeker Melanie's memories and the humans they would lead her to.

Just. Read that and have the face to tell me it doesn’t sound more interesting than Twilight I dare you. Of course the books are different genres, although the focus is in the... more sentimental part in both. It’s just that The Host story is more unusual and the worldbuilding dreamy and subtly horrific. 

Well I said I was gonna talk about the romance right? Spoilers incoming!

 A bit of more context is necessary; in The Host, Melanie, the human Wanda (nickname of Wanderer) is possessing, is in love with the boyfriend mentioned in the sinopsis, Jared. Wanda being in the body of Melanie, feels things for him. We can divine for context this is sexual attraction plus having access to some of Melanie’s memories and noticing Jared is pretty ok as humans not possessed are left on Earth. 

Melanie reaction to this oscillates between “don’t you dare touch my boyfriend alien” and “well of course you fell for him, he’s pretty awesome” to “if I can’t it’s ok if you want to” when she’s feeling herself disappear at one point. Which is bullshit bc her conscience comes back when Wanda goes to tell Jared to kiss her bc she’s feeling Melanie disappear and when he gets near Wanda, Melanie usually mounts a whole circus in her head. It works. 

Well that’s one part of the romance. The other is Ian, a human in the settlement who is pretty level-headed and who starts talking to Wanda, as her guard first and then as her friend. No previous contact with Melanie, so he mets Wanda in Melanie’s body and isn’t excessively hostile or sad. Bc you know, an alien is in the body of you “niece, girlfriend, sister, etc” isn’t really conductive to good first impressions although that alien has come bearing the news that said person is still alive somewhere in their brain. 

(Also the whole human group is so hilariously based on those paranoid about the government/end-of-days usa people... And it works! LMAO) (The social dynamics are interesting in this book ok? basic but ingenious)

So Wanda falls slowly without noticing for Ian; Ian falls first and confesses and everything. I think their first kiss was a bit sketchy? But generally they good. 

The interesting thing is this: Melanie and so her body, is in love and attracted to Jared. Wanda, inhabiting Melanie’s body, starts realising that although Jared is pretty ok and all that, he’s really Melanie’s love; she doesn’t exactly like his more violent tendencies. 

(Really he’s more apocalypse survivor hardcore, but he really was a dick to her at the start, bc alien possessing girlfriend and all. Also gave her mixed signals, etc. Very american male which, eh. Melanie is also very apocalypse survivor hardcore; the two mesh well bc of that lmao) 

Well, as Stephanie Meyer is SM, and she has some weird ideas about romance the thing is, Wanda doesn’t feel sexually attracted to Ian. Bc all the hormones in her body are signaling only Jared. But she really is romantically attracted to Ian, and loves him. When they kiss, she likes it, but it’s not super passionate nor does it brings the same high that the few occasions Jared kissed her. To Ian’s credit he doesn’t really get it at the start, but then is immediately acepting of Wanda’s boundaries. I think he pushes a bit? But this SM so. Sigh. (I like to think in the hands of another author he wouldn’t do the sterotypical male thing but yah)

What I mean is that Stephanie Meyer, without intention, created an ace romance. Sure, it bc really weird biological alien science, but if you take it to mean Melanie is demi and only feels attracted to Jared, that makes her body reactions logical when Wanda also falls in love. She isn’t occupying the body wholly; there’s the host original presence; so she falls romantically but not physically. If I’m saying great idiotices please correct me under; I don’t have any background on sexology or biology. 

Sadly, Wanda is also super worried of not being able of correctly loving Ian, so. Negation of ace identity in one, two..., warning to folks sensible to it. 

And well, she ruins it when at the end when Wanda is put outside Melanie´s body into one who doesn’t have a human conscience. She explained the others how to take “souls” out of humans without killing any part, and how to take the “souls” to the space ships where they’ll be transported to other worlds. But sometimes the humans have passed so much time suppressed, or have been taken so young, that there isn’t a conscience-anyone to recover. 

The Host is very weird, bc this is a race of genocidal colonist aliens who are weird beautiful little ribbons of silver in their original form, who after abandoning their original world by possessing another race who invaded them realised they could live whatever lives they wanted possessing people without dying and just. Went for it. They are a supposedly all peace loving gents, who cured all poverty and illness by their superior technology and like, very comunist-anarchist society. Who abhor violence, but don’t see eliminating other people identity as violence. 

They are weird and amazing; when they realise having and raising children as humans costs so much, they start acting as parents to those humans without going to have a soul implanted on their kid, bc they love them as they are. A mess of contradictions, and Wanda is so interesting bc of this. 

Sadly, SM acted again, and made Wanda one of the rare females able of auto-destroying to create more fragments of herself (aka other souls). The rest of souls don’t have any gender and chose bodies as whatever sex they like most. Guess Wanda being an alien was fine, but not having an explicit gender was too much, lol. To be fair, she says she prefers female bodies, but doesn’t really mind. Good on Wanda. 

There’s a secondary romance too; the search of Ian’s brother, Kyle (who almost kills Wanda once) for his abducted girlfriend, Jodie. Results the soul inside her body, Sunny has all of Jodie’s memories of Kyle and is like, already in love with him. She lets herself be abducted, and when they explain they’re gonna get her out and why, is like, cries and begs, but accepts it bc is Jodie who Kyle loves. She hasn’t ever heard her like Wanda did Melanie, though, so when like a week or two pass and Jodie’s conscience remains dead Kyle consents (bc the other relatives of Jodie are soulified) to bring back Sunny. Wow. What a clusterfuck. They don’t date but there’s this weird vibe where Kyle has stopped hating all souls after Wanda’s mess and his encounter with Sunny, and Sunny herself is like; yay! I can live with humans and Kyle and I’ll keep trying to awake Jodie. And the two of them are described as inseparable? 

It’s more intriguing than Twilight; I wished there were more fics interested in exploring cool canon divergences and all. I didn’t dive in the problematiqueTM aspects of the book but come on, this is SM and you have reading comprehension. I just wanted to talk about how interesting is the intersection of sexuality in romance in Wanda’s case >-< Still better than Twilight but I guess the aesthetic of vamps surpases The Host. Which. Valid ok? Each to their own. 

[monkeebratz]

Bio!Dad Bruce - Summer Begins

Initial idea | How it Happened | Addition by iggy-of-fans | Reply to iggy’s Addition | Summer Begins (you are here) | Summer Part 2 | Supers Meet | Scarecrow Interlude 

Going with the nice, Sabine-and-Tom-send-Marinette-to-Gotham-during-the-summer version, Marinette goes to visit Bruce and Alfred in Gotham during the summer. Its honestly kinda a clusterfuck, since you have the Miraculous Team being told she’ll be out of town and coming back as needed using the horse miraculous. (Her notification for the akuma alerts is the alt. Ladybug intro at full volume. Same for the hero discord they made pre-hawkmoth defeat. Adrian set it to that right before she left. Marinette’s going to kill him next time she sees him.) 

(also the miraculous team consists of Abeelle (Chloe), Viperion (Luka), Chat Noir (Adrian), and Himeryu (Kagami). Please forgive my horrible mangling of French and Japanese but Chloe and Kagami got to keep their miraculous with a costume and name change. Everybody knows each others identities and support Marinette going to Gotham after Hawkmoths defeat. They’re hoping she’ll be able to have a break. She absolutely doesn’t.) 

Anyway. Bruce and Alfred sit the boys down and tell them that another of Bruce’s children will be coming to stay with them over the summer. She’s had a rough time in Paris and she’s coming to have a break. Damien is threatened by the idea that Bruce has a younger, blood child, and is not excited about having a civilian in the house while they do hero work. Jason makes jokes about how of course Bruce has a hidden child in France, that’s just par for the course at this point. Tim’s pretty excited? more family! Dick, on the other hand, is all about it. He’s so ready. 

(Again, forgive me, i’m not familiar with most of the robin’s but I’ll do my best.) 

(Jason: Wait. You have more children? Where the fuck have you been hiding them?  Alfred: Marinette lives in Paris with her mother and father. Tim: OH my god. Is she an assassin too by any chance? Is she going to murder us with an Eiffel Tower charm?  Damien: Oh, shut up, Drake. Dick: We’re all going to die, holy shit. That or she’ll be like. Sweeter than sugar. Bruce: -DEEP SIGH- Boys. Please.) 

Alfred makes it clear that they’re not to interrogate Marinette and make her feel uncomfortable. She’s been having a rough time at school and in the city in general and she doesn’t need all the boys getting on her case. Its still a lot, though. Four brothers she hadn’t really interacted with beyond what Bruce and Alfred have told them, and she’s pretty proficient with English but having 3-4 native speakers all talking over each other while you’re trying to figure out what’s going on is Stressful As Hell. Bruce is tired. There’s many jokes about how Bruce’s bio children are a little devil and a little angel. 

The first week is a crazy adjustment period. The first few days are just the Wayne’s going about their routine and Marientte getting used to everything. Mostly the fact that the Wayne’s live in a mansion and she knew Bruce was rich and ran a company but its different knowing and seeing that first hand. Bruce offers to take Marinette shopping or to Wayne Enterprises but she declines, saying she’ll go out once she’s more settled. There’s lots of her being on the phone with the Super Squad bc she’s super anxious about being in the house with near strangers and in a new city and with all the Miraculi she hasn’t given out yet. 

Because yeah, did I mention that she’s the Official Guardian now? And has all the Miraculi hidden in a box in a box. Like. She made a box for the Miraculous Box similar to her diary box. And you know that Damien. Suspicious, assassin-trained, Damien. Went to snoop through her room. And got his hand caught in the box. Kaalki sees this and warns Marinette, who’s probably chilling out in the library, and rushes up. There’s yelling. Yelling that brings Alfred and Jason and possibly Dick up to see the youngest of them screaming at each other in French and Marinette is in the middle of a panic attack and Damien’s pride is hurting that he got caught and couldn’t get out. Alfred breaks it up and brings the boys back downstairs an when he tries to comfort Marinette, he comes back to a locked door and Marinette being comforted by the kwami’s. He assume’s she’s just on the phone with people tho. There’s panic with the Super Squad about someone trying to steal the miraculi and everyone promptly plans to come to Gotham. Without telling Marinette. 

Its all around a rough time.

The next day, Bruce tries to sooth all the ruffled feathers and they take a family trip out to the city. Shows Marinette all the interesting stuff around Gotham, the old buildings and historic district and lots of Wayne buildings and such. They stop at the city gardens and Marinette just lays in the flowers and tries to calm down. Damien makes a comment and oh wow, look at that. You somehow got an incredibly staining flower on your suit. Such. A. Shame. 

How do Damien and Marinette make up, you ask? But kicking the shit out of each other under the guise of training, of course. Because, lets be real, nobody ever expects Marinette to be a fighter. The Wayne’s all train, of course, and Bruce and Alfred know that Sabine taught their girl some things. But she can hold her own against all the boys. All of them. Hell, she can hold her own against Bruce. Against Damien. They’re all frankly shocked and slightly terrified bc uh? Where did you learn this? How? Why? 

Meanwhile, Damien and Marinette are still yelling in French and basically tearing the training room you know the Wayne’s have apart as they jump around and use the room to their advantage. But its cathartic. Because Damien doesn’t want this newcomer to hurt his family and he’s used to high level threats and even family can be a threat. Especially family, honestly. And he’d do whatever it took to keep his family safe, despite his piss poor attitude about everything. And Marinette? Marinette still has such a weight on her shoulders, she took over a duty she wasn’t truly prepared for, and she’s terrified about what will happen if she fails, even if everyone keeps telling her she’s won. Because lets face it, evil never really dies and she has to be above it all and always on top of her game. And she doesn’t really know the Wayne’s, not like her family back in Paris, and she wants to be close, but it scares the shit out of her. She’s always messed everything up, what happens if she messes this up too?

... Basically this fight ends up with a big heart to heart and they call a truce while the rest of the family stands there confused and a little terrified. Bruce. Bruce what is wrong with your bio!children? BRUCE. 

Alfred has a sinking suspicion about what’s going on here though, but keeps it to himself. 

(Next in, Multimouse meets Batman and the Birds. Also a partial identity reveil. Family bonding. Y’know. The usual. Also the Super Squad kidnaps their leader and the Wayne’s promptly panic. Again.) 

(Also just a reminder, guys, if you’d like to be added to the tag list, please send me an ask!) 

[snarkwriteswrasslin]

three | hard to forget - adam p.

[ authors notes ]

This one took a little longer to get out and for that, I’m sorry. It wasn’t clicking until just now. So, this is the unedited and rough version because as soon as I finished, I figured to hell with the editing process, just post it and be done. Yes, it’s still angst city. Yes, they’re both still being stubborn. BUT... they were finally kind of forced into interaction so yay? I guess? 

FYI, this is probably gonna be a mini fic, so there’s probably only about 9 or 10 actual chapters left of it. I never meant for it to be that long BUT... we’ll see... all depends on how well it actually goes over... Do with that what you will... Also, the OFC’s self worth issues are not going to magically disappear just because the story comes to some kind of conclusion. I believe I mentioned this once before, the ofc here has the same issues I do to an extent... Anyway, enjoy a little lingering sexual tension in this part?

[ one - two - darling, the unofficial first chapter of the story - the soundtrack ]

[ warnings ]

Self esteem issues cw. Anxiety cw. Alcohol cw. Angst and sort of a slow burn. Mini fic, fyi. Probably won’t be very long. Potentially smut at some point. I switch between first person pov ( my oc’s pov ) to third person pov ( usually hangman, but also any other side characters I might use in this). 

[ tag squad ]

@kyleoreillysknee​

@rampagewriting​

@writertoo18​

@thatnerdwriter​

@wrestlingismyguiltypleasure​

@chasingeverybreakingwave​

@waywardwrestlewritingwaif​

@sassymox​

@hungmanhorsecarriage​

@wardl0w​

@unabashedwrestlefics​

@cowboyshit​

@adampage​

@missjenniferb​

@wrestlingthot​

@mafiadaddypaulheyman​

[ tag doc  | about page  | masterlist ] 

                                                  T H R E E 

[ ADAM ]

“Talking to her is probably a better idea than staring a hole through her, man.” Wardlow spoke up from beside Adam just as Adam poured himself another glass of whiskey. Adam took a long and thoughtful sip before shrugging.

“Obviously, there’s nothin to talk about.”

“And you’re an idiot if you believe that. Full offense meant.” Wardlow ordered his own drink and took a sip, eyes darting up to the screen mounted close to the ceiling  behind the bar. He chuckled at the score on the hockey game playing and then spoke up again. “All I’m saying is you don’t want one of the other guys stepping up and getting a shot you didn’t take. I mean, earlier… Did you not overhear Maxwell?”

“Oh yeah. I heard him. Why the fuck do you think I put him against the wall real quick like I did. It’s not my business if she chooses one of them though. Nothin’ I can do about it, either.” Adam shrugged, but deep down, it had him on edge. On top of everything else… He was having to deal with the fact that one night with Rosalie showed him just how much he didn’t want things to be one night only between the two of them.

Everything was turning into a massive clusterfuck that he couldn’t escape, no matter how far in the bottom of the bottle he tried burying himself.

The win tonight over his opponent felt like a hollow victory because just as the ref raised his hand it really sank in just how alone he felt and how well he’d managed to alienate himself from his friends. The fact that Rosalie was fine with a one night stand and wanted nothing further to do with him meant that he couldn’t share the moment with her, either.

But the problem with all of this was that the more he tried to go without talking about how he felt, the further down he tried to push it all, lately, that was the harder everything tried to push it’s way to the forefront. It was getting to a point where he felt like he was one breath away from exploding in frustration at any moment.

The more he tried to find Rosalie in back and at least clear the air between them, the better she seemed to get at making herself scarce.

Just as he found himself thinking about it, he happened to spot her, pushing her way through the crowd surrounding the bar at the other end of it. Banging on the wooden bartop noisily, she hopped up and down, shoving money at a bartender who came past and getting herself a bottle of Tito’s. Adam felt himself tense all over and whether or not he meant to, his eyes were fixed on her. He bit his lip and took a long sip from the glass and Wardlow cleared his throat. “If you don’t step up, Page. Someone else will. Women like that don’t stay single or lonely long at all. Trust me.”

Without another word, Wardlow was gone, leaving Adam to watch intently. He swore to himself and grumbled when Matt Jackson wandered right up to her, boldly leaning against her from behind and muttering something against her ear.

“Naturally, he’s gotta go there.” Adam grumbled to himself as the scowl took over. He watched the scene unfolding and maybe he was a little more amused than he should’ve been when he saw Rosalie rolling her eyes before she turned around. She suck popped a gum bubble and blew at her bangs. Every physical cue she was giving off read clear irritation and annoyance and yet… Matt was apparently determined.

,, Jackass even has roses. If he really gave a shit he’d know she liked sunflowers or daisies.” Adam found himself thinking. The thought lingered, annoying him all over again. No matter how much he wanted to be angry and hate his former friends, he knew deep down that everything they’d said to him the last time they all talked had unfortunately been true.

They may have set it all in motion, but he’d been the one who let it continue for so long. Then he’d been the one who exploded and went straight for self-destruct mode rather than doing what he should’ve done, beating their asses and getting his frustrations out there and putting it behind him. And all of that, his brain wasted no time in reminding him, trickled down to the situation with her, and his inability to even fathom taking a chance and speaking up about the way he really felt. And it bothered him because he knew that not only was he letting his friends slip through his fingers but now, a chance at being with her too.

And then, it happened. Rosalie happened to spot him sitting there, watching her. For a few seconds, she stared right back, teeth grazing against a full lower lip. Adam hated to admit it, but he felt a small surge of pride at the fact that he’d done a good enough job leaving marks behind their night together that the small bite mark just below her earlobe hadn’t really faded that much.  ,, then again, I was so desperate to leave any kind of sign that I even had her to myself  for one night that I really latched onto that spot at least 4 times. Was the hardest mark I left.” 

He must have been staring at the area pretty hard because her hand raised, fingertips settling right against the spot in question. She squirmed on her stool under his gaze and bit her lip. Adam shifted on his stool and took a deep breath, trying to will away the way he was starting to strain against his jeans. Because before that happened again, they needed to have a long and serious conversation.

She shotgunned a sip from the tequila bottle and swallowed hard, wincing at the way the alcohol must’ve burned it’s way down her throat and Adam raised his own glass, finishing it off without breaking his gaze with her.

Apparently, it was enough to be noticed by Matt, who glared at him before grumbling to himself and walking away for the time being. Neither of them were caving yet, the stare war still going on. If he were a more confident and far less anxious kind of guy, he’d almost swear that maybe the tequila was hitting her system and maybe, she was flirting across the room.

As soon as even the hint of that thought hit, Adam was on top of it, shoving it down deep before hope dared to have a chance to grow.

She sighed and the movement of her lips had his eyes locked there, following helplessly as her tongue dragged over the outline of her mouth. When she brushed shaggy bangs out of her eyes, Adam’s hand clenched because honestly, he just wanted to tangle his fingers up in her hair again, use his grip on the soft and thick locks to tug her mouth into his so deep that by the time the kiss broke they were breathing for each other.

She broke eye contact first, turning her attention to the doors of the sports bar and Adam tore his eyes off her, fixing them on his own drink.

,, if I don’t say something soon, I’m going to lose my damn mind.” 

[ ROSALIE ]

I could smell Matt Jackson before he even pressed against me from behind. The cologne he wore is not my favorite and it never has been. ,, It’s not my fault I prefer Adam’s natural scent to the overpowering notes of whatever the hell Matt is wearing all the time.” my brain chimed in and I quickly shoved the thought out.

I was here tonight because no fucking thanks to Adam’s earlier match and win, I needed a good stiff drink. ,, Is a good stiff drink not how I wound up in the situation I’m in right now though?” - my brain was at it again, nagging and being pesky. Between my own mind and my mom, I was dangerously close to exploding lately.

Matt pressed against me from behind, reaching past me to grab a soda he’d apparently ordered and I cringed to myself, eyes rolling as I prepared myself for what Matt felt was ‘his best game’. In truth, his best game is a fucking annoyance to me.

If I were going to hook up with a Jackson brother, I’d die before I ever considered Matt. Nick… Nick clearly has more going for him that’s not quite so…. Overpowering and annoying.

Not that I’ve ever given them any sort of actual thought in that regard, I’m just stating a fact.

“You drinking alone, Rosie?”

“Don’t call me that, Matt. I have a name.”

Matt chuckled in amusement. He was still pressing against me a little. I tensed and he seemed to finally take the fucking hint, stepping away a little. “You could bring your bottle and come over to where me and Nick are sitting. It’d keep Maxwell off your ass.”

“I’m here alone. As in, I want to drink this tequila all by myself. Nice try, Matt.” I responded, turning just enough to smirk up at him as my words hit their mark. He grumbled and bit his lip, shaking his head. “I don’t get it. Why not just give somebody a chance?”

“Why not just leave somebody alone, though? I’ve told every single one of you who keeps trying lately, I have zero interest. That what happened that night is not only not any of your business, but it was supposed to stay between me and Adam.”

“And yet, you were telling your friends.”

“I didn’t tell them!” I grumbled and rolled my eyes in frustration, blowing at hair that flopped into my eyes and I took a sip, continuing, “They knew something was wrong with me and they kept at me til they guessed. Not that it’s your business, Jackson.”

“You can call me Matt.”

“Can I call you gone already? Because I’m exhausted with this conversation. Look.. I get that you have a hard time hearing the word no. I get that you’re trying to pour on the charm and I get that you think you want me but trust me, Matt, you don’t. Nobody ever actually does.”

“That’s not true, hon.” Matt’s brows knit together as he looked me up and down, licking his lips. I grumbled and turned away, rolling my eyes as I knocked more of my bottle back.

Somehow, I found my eyes fixed on Adam in all this.

And I tried, but I couldn’t tear my eyes off him. And as I stared, all I kept seeing was that fire in his eyes earlier tonight during his singles match. The way he looked fired up and ready to take on the whole world. I was starting to get soaked all over again and I shifted around on the stool a little. 

The hunger burning in his eyes as they roamed over me had memories of that night stirring to the front of my mind and if I thought I was soaked before, that was in fact a lie. I could feel my thighs slipping off each other. The realization had me reaching for my bottle and taking a generous sip. I tried again to tear my eyes off him but I couldn’t do that either. Instead, I found them fixing on a not quite hidden hickie that I knew full well I’d left behind on the right side of his neck. I swallowed hard and took a deep breath because I remembered that I hadn’t been the only one who left a mark.

And at the sudden rearing of the thought, my fingers raised, gingerly dancing over the deep impression of his bite in my skin. I could feel my face getting hotter by the second. 

Matt seemed to finally catch onto the stare down happening between Adam and I and he grumbled, making a hasty retreat.

It took everything I possessed not to shove through the crowd and go to Adam. Especially with the statement he made in an interview before his match earlier tonight burned into my brain. Hurting me because I knew for a fact that the words weren’t true and it killed me that he might even halfway consider them to be so.

I finally managed to tear my eyes off of him, spotting Sonny Kiss and Joey Janela making their way into the bar. I waved to them both, grateful for the distraction they’d provide me. The barrier they’d make between me and my desire to go to Adam and bare my entire soul.

And probably be rejected. Or have to hear him say that the one night between us was a moment of weakness and it didn’t mean anything.

Or any number of things I’d heard a thousand times before.

[vikingpoteto]

we don’t have to dance (to the beat of their songs)

Chapter 4 on AO3

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Relationships:  (Gen) Tim Drake & Jason Todd

Tags: Battle for the Cowl, Alternate Canon, Adopted Sibling Relationship, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Canon-Typical Violence, Mental Health Issues, Past Child Neglect, Domestic Fluff, Canon is not valid I am, and I want them to be friends goddamnit

Summary: In the middle of their battle, Jason asks Tim to leave the nest and be his Robin. Tim decides it's not a bad idea, after all. 

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 When Tim walks out of the crappy motel room, the sun is already up. He curses inwardly, guessing it must be past eight in the morning at least. He hadn’t meant to stay up all night, but that’s what happens more often than not. He remembers reading somewhere online that ADHD people have a different sleeping cycle, something about working better when sleeping from 2am to 10am or something. He didn’t read the full article because it didn’t seem that relevant at the time. 

Alas. Since he’s up, he might as well get himself some breakfast. He walks to the vending machine he was planning on visiting anyway. He blinks his blurry eyes trying to see the options in front of him. He considers buying just an energy drink and calling it a day, but he doesn’t think his empty stomach will appreciate that course of action.

“The fuck? You’re still here?”

Tim turns around. Jason is in front of his own room, only half wearing his leather jacket.

“I’m a paying customer?” Tim says. He hadn’t meant to make it sound like a question. God, he’s sleepy. 

“I thought you’d be back in Gotham by now,” Jason says.

Tim frowns at him. “Where would I go?”

Jason considers that for a while. Usually, Tim would be bothered by being scanned like that, but he can’t find in himself to care or to try and figure what Jason might be thinking right now. Finally, the older boy sighs.

“You got breakfast yet?”

Tim gestures vaguely at the vending machine full of snacks. 

Jason stares, his expression empty. Then he rolls his eyes, grabs Tim by the collar and starts dragging him as though he’s a sack of potatoes. It’s a testament to how tired Tim really is that he stumbles and barely manages a noise of protest.

“Jason,” he whines, the tone in his voice catching even himself by surprise. 

A couple gives them a judgemental glance as they cross the street. Tim wonders what they look like to strangers. Tim’s clothes, while a lot more expensive than Jason’s, are battered and faded from his misadventures. His painfully pale skin doesn’t match Jason’s dark tan at all, even with all the freckles he got from having fun with assassins in the desert. Still, to a passerby, Tim’s juvenile tone and pathetic attempts to slap Jason’s hand away should make them look like bickering friends. In spite of Jason’s size, his young face still betrays his real age. They could pass as…

Tim straightens himself in a swift movement. Whether he’s finally successful in his attempt to free himself or Jason notices his tension and lets him go, is up for debate. He shakes his head and pretends that no stupid thought almost crossed his mind.

“What are you doing?” Tim complains.

Jason points at the building in front of them — an old diner — and walks in, expecting Tim to follow. He does. 

A tired looking waitress squints at them as though she’s expecting trouble for whatever reason. Tim doesn’t know why, he’s sure they look perfectly innocent as they find themselves a place to sit. They make a beeline towards a table in a discreet corner, partially hidden behind a nook of the wall. The spot allows them to see almost all the other patrons without being too visible. Tim notes, but doesn’t comment on the fact that both of them chose that spot seemingly at the same time.

When they sit across one another, however, Tim has a weird feeling in his gut. Maybe it’s the sleepless night, but he has a hard time not thinking about the last time he sat across Jason like this: the older boy had been in jail and Tim’s stupid plan to get him out resulted in… well.

Babs used to say Tim talked a lot or didn’t talk at all, and she had been the first person to realize that the former meant Tim wasn’t thinking and the latter meant he was thinking too much. Tim does what he does best when he’s nervous or uncomfortable: he starts talking. A terrible mistake in retrospect, really. 

“Are you buying me breakfast?” he asks.

Jason glares at him. “You’re richer than I am. Buy your own food.”

“Not really. Plus you dragged me here.”

“You said you were a paying customer.”

“Yeah, at the hotel. Credit cards are hackable and Babs taught me a thing or two in case I ever found myself in a tight spot, which I definitely am right now.” Tim points at the ‘cash only’ sign behind the counter. “The pocket change I have is cool for a vending machine, but a diner is fancier than what I’m ready for.”

Jason groans and rolls his eyes. Tim thinks that the closest thing he’ll get from a yes, so he takes it. 

Without talking about it and even though they’re not talking about anything too secretive, they go silent when the waitress walks towards their table. Rather than greeting them, she shows her little notepad and arches an eyebrow at them. Tim is loving the service already, it’s doing great things to his nerves.

“Coffee. Black,” he says. 

She turns to Jason, but he’s still looking at Tim as though waiting for him to say something else. When Tim simply gives him a quizzical look, Jason appears annoyed.

“What do you mean black coffee?” Jason says. “You’re making me pay for your food and you’re not even ordering actual food?”

“Uh… I’m fine? I don’t eat much this early, it makes me nauseous.”

“Jesus Christ, kid. We gonna have your largest order of pancakes for this stupid child.”

Tim kicks him under the table.

“Little shit,” Jason hisses.

And Tim almost falls over when he pushes his chair to avoid being kicked back.

“Cut it out, Jason!”

While their feet battle under the table, the waitress rolls her eyes and walks away. Tim really wishes he could give this place a five star review.

When Jason’s sole finally connects to Tim’s chair and he has to hold onto the table to avoid toppling over, he groans:

“Truce.”

“Nah. You lost.”

Tim stares.

“Admit you lost and I stop.”

“Fine, you oversized baby, I lost!”

Jason smiles. It’s stupid to get so worked up at such a small thing, not to mention how extremely out of place it feels after his little vacation with the League. Still, Tim can’t help but think this is the first time he’s seen Jason look so satisfied. Annoyingly smug, sure, but satisfied.

Silence stretches. Jason grabs a napkin from the table and starts methodically tearing it apart for no apparent reason. Tim wishes he thought of doing something like that, because his hands are itching to do something. It’d look dumb if he started doing the same thing as Jason, wouldn’t it?

“I thought you were rich,” Jason says, startling Tim. 

He shakes his head, reprimanding himself for spacing out. “What?”

“I get not using your own credit card so you can’t be tracked,” Jason says, “but you’re so obsessed with planning everything. I kinda expected you to have a secret stash of money somewhere.”

Tim frowns. “What, you think I just stole Bruce’s money before leaving?”

Now that Jason mentions it, that would’ve been smarter. It’s not like Dick would miss it, and money would’ve left less of a trail than the fake credit cards he’d been using. Maybe Ra’s wouldn’t have found him if… He’s spacing out again. Jason is speaking. Crap.

“... your other father?” 

He needs a few blinks to realize what Jason means. “My dad lost everything before he died. You didn’t know?” 

“Wait, so what are you going to do when you go back to Gotham? Go back to the manor?”

Tim frowns. “I don’t think that’d be a good idea.”

“He’d take you back.”

At that, Tim gives him a pointed look. Jason realizes his misstep.

“Don’t,” he grits out. “Don’t you dare say it. We’re not the same by any means.”

“I didn’t say anything,” Tim says simply.

He never does. Ever since he reached that weird truce with Jason, Tim only said it once. He said that Jason should go back; Jason told him to fuck off. Tim said that Bruce wanted him back and Dick missed him; Jason told him to be quiet. Tim told him that Alfred wanted to see him; Jason stormed off. 

Since then, in the very few times they’ve met and talked like semi-civilized people, Tim never brought up Jason going home again. Jason seems to firmly believe that he’ll never be forgiven. Tim knows that he’s the last person Jason wants to talk about family, and it’s not like he has any arguments that could change his mind, so Tim keeps quiet. It works, unless one of them (usually Jason) is trying to kill the other (Tim). Even now, after the whole clusterfucker before Tim’s trip - had it really happened a few weeks ago? - there is no doubt in his mind that Dick and Alfred would take Jason back with open arms, more than willing to work on their issues. Perhaps Dick would still be a bit upset about Jason shooting Damian, but hey, the kid barely stayed down for a day.

As it is now, neither of them are planning to go back. Once more, the question looms over them. Why would Tim make the same mistake again? What was that fancy quote about insanity? Something about doing the same thing and expecting a miracle or whatever. Tim hopes Jason won’t ask.

But then again, if Jason asks Tim why he wants to stay, he’ll have to explain why he’s accepting it, and Tim doesn’t think he’s too keen on that.

The waitress comes back with their food. Tim twists his nose at the pile of pancakes in front of him. Jason threateningly points a fork at him until he sighs and starts eating. 

“We’re taking off after I’m done eating, so get to chewing, Replacement.”

Tim feels a smile stretching his lips. “We?”

“Don’t be a smartass. If I regret this, I’ll dump your ass in the middle of the road.”

“Can’t do, boss. It’s part of Robin’s job to call you out on your shit.”

“But you’re not Robin anymore, are you?”

That wipes Tim’s smile off pretty fast. He has to keep reminding himself that Jason can be as much of an asshole as Tim can, if not worse. He resumes eating in silence, pretending he’s too mature to be bothered by Jason’s stupid smug face. 

Never mind that he has to grit his teeth to hold back at least three different smart retorts. He doesn’t want to risk Jason giving up on him out of spite and the son of a bitch knows it. 

Tim takes his sweet time poking at his pancakes and sipping his coffee, hoping that Jason will be done first and they’ll leave. When Jason realizes what he’s doing, he starts barking out threats and insults until Tim is kicking him again. 

They don’t stop fighting until Tim’s plate is empty and his stomach is filled to the brim. 

The waitress looks unreasonably relieved when Jason throws a couple of crumpled bills at the counter and they turn to leave. Tim didn’t think they made a fuss big enough to warrant that reaction. But, then again, maybe they just look like trouble makers. 

“We’re going back to Gotham?” Tim asks.

“What do you think, genius?” Jason rolls his eyes. “God, my territory must be a mess by now.”

“No one told you to fall from that height, dude, I’m surprised you’re not out of commission for longer,” Tim says.

“Replacement, I swear to God…”

“Just sayin’,” and his mocking smile is back. “We’re going to one of your infamous safehouses?”

“Hm.”

“The one in Burnley? Or the one behind Crime Alley? Or…”

Jason stops walking. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “No one likes a smartass, Tim.”

“Jokes on you, no one likes me anyway.” Tim grins. “If it makes you feel any better, I’m pretty sure Dick doesn’t know about the Burnley one.”

“Guess that’s where we’re going then,” Jason huffs. “Can’t have them breathin’ on my neck while I get my stuff together. Can’t believe I have a fucking kid now.”

“You’re only two years older than me, Jason. Less, if we consider you were dead for a couple months.”

Jason ignores that. “You better not go running to them, Replacement. You’re on your trial run. You fuck this up, you not gonna like the consequences.” 

Tim rolls his eyes, but says nothing. Jason will find out soon enough how good he is at keeping secrets.

They grab their things at the hotel, not that Tim has a lot of luggage. Jason grabs a motorcycle that definitely isn’t his. Tim doesn’t comment on it, because the one he’s currently riding was paid with money that wasn’t his either. 

They hit the road, and the sleepless night and the breakfast still threatening to come back don’t bother Tim as much, because he feels like he’s finally moving again. Finally has a sense of purpose again. 

 Tim didn’t expect to live with Jason. He thought he’d look around his place, help him set up a functional computer system - how Jason survived alone for so long with the tech he had was beyond Tim - and then he’d leave to figure out what to do. His credit card fraud system wouldn’t work as well in Gotham, at least not if Barbara was in town, but he was willing to figure it out. 

The fact that he came this far without a plan told him that his month with the assassins had thrown him off his game. He’d grown used to winging it because the last weeks had been so unfairly unpredictable, but he has to go back to his old modus operandi as soon as possible.

Or at least that’s what he thought, until he emerged from the secret Red Hood bunker downstairs and Jason casually told him to take the vacant room upstairs.

That solved a lot of logistic issues, so Tim forces his mouth shut and heads upstairs. 

If you forget about the heavy arsenal in the secret basement (a secret that Tim will spend the whole weekend tinkering because holy shit, his childhood bedroom was more secure)  the house is almost… normal. Like an abandoned  middle class house. There are boards on the windows and signs that it should’ve been demolished at some point. Other than that, Jason had made the place a functional home. It’s a bit sparse in the furniture department and not unlike the hotel room Tim found Jason in: mismatched pieces, old wood and dust everywhere. There are marks on the wallpaper where pictures had presumably hung once, but that was probably before Jason took over the place. 

It occurs to Tim that he’s probably going to be on cleaning duty, which is a bit worrisome. As much as he’s okay with less than hospitable places, he’s never had to clean. Ever. He hopes there’s a YouTube tutorial on it. 

His new room clearly belonged to a very feminine person at some point, and all they left behind was an old bed with no sheets, a beaten dresser and marks on the pink walls where posters had probably been. Tears in the wallpaper hint they were carelessly ripped off. Tim carefully removes the mirror from the dresser and puts it out of sight before dumping his duffel bag near the bed. Home, sweet home.

Someone clears his throat by the door. 

Leaning against the frame as though he doesn’t know what to do with himself, Jason crosses and uncrosses his arms.

“I’m going on patrol in a bit. Gotta assess the situation.”

Tim nods and waits. This would usually be the time Bruce gave them instructions for  the night. Jason shifts his weight from one foot to the other. Whether he’s deliberately trying to be less like Bruce - which is futile, since Bruce is the only reference he has - or he simply doesn’t know how to handle a sidekick… Tim takes pity on him and says:

“I’ll be ready to join you in five.”

Jason aqcuiesces stiffly. Then heads down the hallway. Tim swears he hears Jason mumbling to himself as he leaves, which would be amusing if he wasn’t feeling just as awkward. 

He grabs the light chainmail armor from his bag and puts it on. The black, sleek outfit that follows still feels uncomfortable and foreign, but Tim supposes it will have to do. He hesitates before pulling on the black hood and even more before reaching for the Spoiler-like mask that will only cover the lower half of his face. Finally, he discards the piece of fabric to a corner. Associating the thing with Steph does the opposite of making him feel better about it. He’ll have to ask Jason if he has a spare domino mask he can borrow. 

He heads downstairs just as Jason is emerging from the kitchen in almost full Red Hood gear, his helmet under his arm. He tries to ignore the tug at his stomach when he sees it. Judging by Jason’s expression, he was thinking something similar.

“What the fuck are you wearing, Replacement?”

“Discreet clothes for an undercover mission. What are you wearing?” Tim tries to play it off as nothing, but, judging by Jason’s expression, he’s failing. “Look, I didn’t have Robin anymore, okay? I had to wear something and this is what Ra’s gave me.”

“Yeah, I’m not going out with a mini-League of Assassins recrutee.”

Tim wishes he had a logical argument against that. He thinks there is one, but the sleepless night is finally getting to him and he can’t think straight. “Well, damn, Jason, what do you expect me to do? Go out in civies? Not all of us can pull off the leather jacket.”

The older boy considers him for a moment, and an irrational part of Tim’s brain keeps him frozen on the spot. This is it. This is when he realizes this has been a mistake, and me thinking he’s like me was a gross miscalculation. He’s going to send me away. He’s going to tell me to go away.

“Stay here,” Jason says. “Now that I think about it, if I go alone there’s less of a chance of them finding out I’m back.”

Tim is panicking, but not hard enough that he misses the opportunity to quip: “I’m not the one with a bright red helmet.”

“Shut it. Do digital detective work while I’m gone. Can you find out what happened in my territory for the past month without bringing Oracle down my ass?”

“Of course I can. What do you think I am?”

“Inferior to Barbara.”

“Bitch…!” Tim pauses. Takes a deep breath. “Okay, fair, I am. But she isn’t actively looking for me and I know her M.O.”

Jason nods. “Then do your thing. I’ll be back in the morning.”

Tim watches him head to the door. So he isn’t fired again, which is good.

“Jason?” He calls, because apparently he can’t take a win and keep his damn mouth shut. “I’m not going to stay indoors. I’m not the computer guy. I’m in this to fight crime and I didn’t look for you to stay back because you don’t like my fashion choices.”

Jason looks absolutely disgusted  at that. “The problem with smart people like you is that you keep thinking everyone else is a fucking idiot. I’m not. And you know that, since you chose to come after me.”

Tim could tell him Jason offered first. That would lead to a childish back-and-forth until accusing the other of starting wouldn’t be enough and they would have a fist fight on top of the ratty couch. Considering the thing looks like it’s about to collapse under the mildest gust of wind, Tim wisely stays quiet for once in his life. 

He turns around and heads to the kitchen, to the secret entrance that leads to the secret basement. He hears when Jason leaves. He’s still pouting when he boots the stupid computer in serious need of an update.

He’s going to hate this. 

 Tim hates that he enjoys himself. 

It’s been quite a long time since he worked in such a simple case. He’d forgotten how enjoyable it is to work on a puzzle and watch the pieces fall together with ease. Like skating for fun after spending months practicing complicated maneuvers. He doesn’t see time going by as he takes notes and prints info, compiling a thorough report on everything Jason missed, up to some cold trails from when he was in Blackgate.  

He doesn’t remember falling asleep. 

At least not until he wakes up and immediately lets out an unholy screech because his bed vanishes under him. Except he isn’t on his bed, he’s spinning around on the computer chair and he scrambles to stay on the seat before the chair finally hits the wall and stops.

After the shock is gone, he looks up and finds a rather smug Red Hood smirking at him from across the room.

“What the… Did you seriously kick my chair?” Tim gasps.

“My chair,” Jason corrects. “That I let you borrow in exchange for work. Slacking on the service on the first day?”

Tim shoots up. “I was not! Fuck you!”

Jason blinks, his eyes widening. “Easy there. And I’m the one with anger issues.”

“I gathered everything that there is to find from the past month,” he protests, frantic and irritated all at the same time. “Sure, I didn’t finish the time you were locked up, but that’s because your internet is fucking slow. Give me until morning and I-”

Strong hands grab his wrists and Tim looks up. Jason’s expression is so oddly telling that Tim thinks he’s trying to manipulate him somehow. His brows are knitted together and his warm brown eyes are still mildly wide. Enough that Tim can see the specks of green in the dark iris, a reminder of Jason’s dip in the Lazarus Pit. He tries to come up with an explanation, because Jason has no reason to make Tim think he’s worried about him.

“The fuck is wrong with you? I didn’t expect you to be done before I got home. And I didn’t expect you to get info about the time I was in jail either.”

Tim is confused. He misinterpreted his mess up? “You didn’t want me to know what was going on before? That’s counterproductive. Plus a lot of this isn’t new information, I was monitoring…”

“Tim,” Jason cuts him off again. 

It’s weird that he says Tim and not Robin. It’s correct, because Tim isn’t Robin anymore, but this is Robin time regardless. Tim feels as though he’s back at the cave and he’s 13 years old. This time he doesn’t have Dick’s hesitant encouragement or Alfred’s worried glances, but it feels too similar to being around a grief-stricken man, broken almost beyond repair. That man is his boss and, in order to earn his stay, Tim has to succeed.

Except next time Jason speaks, he doesn’t sound like Bruce. Not like Bruce after he started healing. Definitely not like Bruce sounded when he first met Tim. He sounds - and that’s extremely weird - like Cassie when she found Tim pulling an all-nighter reviewing the case files. It was right after they got their team approved and could take over Titans Tower. Tim had to make sure everything was running smoothly, but Cassie thought not sleeping after sparring all-day was a bad call. She had been absolutely bewildered by the concept, for some reason.

It’s ridiculous that Red Hood reminds him of Wonder Girl.

“I don’t fucking care that you checked old news,” Jason says. “I’m just surprised you’re done already.” 

Tim’s brow furrows and he reviews the night, again trying to assess his mistake. “You said I was supposed to do digital work while you were on patrol,” he repeats slowly, almost to himself. 

“Yeah,” Jason agrees, letting go of his wrists. “I thought you were gonna collect some info and go to bed. Continue tomorrow.”

Tim gives in and straight up asks: “And you’re angry because…?”

“I’m not?” Jason is the one looking confused now. “You think me kicking your chair was me being angry? I was just being a jerk. I didn’t think you were that sensitive.”

Oh. Tim feels his cheeks warming. “I-I’m not! That is, I don’t care that you kicked the chair and sent me careening across the room while I was asleep.” There’s a beat. “Wait, no, I do care about that, what the hell, Jason?”

Jason rolls his eyes. “Come on, I’m gonna make it up to you. Don’t get used to it, though. Just come here and take a look.” 

Tim notices a bundle of what looks like fabric on the computer desk. It definitely wasn’t there before he dozed off. His confusion peaks when he notices it isn’t simply fabric… it’s leather and kevlar and a freaking cowl connected to a cape and…

“You stole Dr. Mid-Nite’s suit?” Tim asks.

“Wha- No, dumbass! It’s my suit! My old suit, anyway.”

Tim takes it and holds it in front of him. It’s a bit heavier than his old Robin suit, but it looks more resistant, if not as much malleable. 

“From the time you went to a different dimension,” Tim gasps.

“How the fuck do you know that?” Jason asks, bewildered again. 

Tim turns to him. “Why do you have this?”

Jason shrugs. “I grew out of it. Figured you could have it. You’re a bit taller than I was then, and skinnier too, but nothing you can’t work around. Beats making a whole new suit from scratch.”

Words fail him and he simply stares at the suit, unresponsive. 

“If you don’t like it, deal with it,” Jason says, suddenly less blase. It’s almost as though he’s nervous. “Or make a new suit, I don’t care. Just don’t go out in that stupid ninja suit.”

“R.R.” Tim mutters, his voice hollow. “What does R.R. stands for?”

It’s Jason’s turn to hesitate. Silent stretches for a little before he blurts: “Red Robin.”

“Huh.” Tim says, eloquent as ever. “What’s with all the red? I thought your favorite color was green.”

“How do you-” Jason sighs. “Whatever. Grab your shit and get the hell out of here.”

Tim whips around, alarmed again. “Why?”

“Because I wanna fucking change,” he gestures at his clothes, “and it’s weird to do it with your scrawny ass down here. This ain’t the Batcave, I only got one room.”

Oh. That sort of “leaving”. That makes more sense. “Right. I’m gonna go… uh... “ Where, again?

“To bed,” Jason snaps. “You’re gonna sleep on an actual bed instead of drooling all over my keyboard. Scram.”

Nodding jerkily, Tim obeys. The suit he holds tightly against his chest feels heavy and not because of all the body armor hidden within layers of leather.

[wolfpawn]

I Hate You, I Love You, Chapter 128

Chapter Summary - Danielle is dealing with work, but still thinking about Tom and whatever his call was regarding, while Tom still thinks of how to talk to her, but when he gets a message, he has to think of its meaning.

Previous Chapter

Rating - Mature (some chapters contain smut)

Triggers - references to Tom Hiddleston’s work with the #MeToo Movement. That chapter will be tagged accordingly.

authors Note - I have been working on this for the last 3 years, it is currently 180+ chapters long.  This will be updated daily, so long as I can get time to do so, obviously.

Copyright for the photo is the owners, not mine.

I WILL get there, it is my dream!

All image rights belong to their owners

tags: @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog​​ @jessibelle-nerdy-mum​​ @nonsensicalobsessions​​ @damalseer​​ @hiddlesbitch1​​ @winterisakiller​ @fairlightswiftly​​ @salempoe​​ @wolfsmom1

Danielle stared at the scene in front of her silently as the fire crews deal with the burning rubble, she simply watched them all, studying how they dealt with the situation.

‘You seem distracted.’ She turned slightly as Branagh standing close to her.

‘I think it is more I am trying to keep myself preoccupied.’

‘That’s seldom good.’ he folded his arms and leant against a large container. ‘Is it to do with Tom?’

‘Somewhat.’

‘Dare I ask?’

‘Dare I say anything?’ She challenged. ‘I know Tom looks up to you so much and is so grateful to you and also keeps in contact with you as best he can. You are the reason he got on so well on Wallander.’

‘Tom is the reason he did well there, not me.’

‘Without your guidance, and without your suggestion that he should try for Marvel, he would not have gotten the opportunity to show his incredible talent to the world as he has.’ She countered with a smile.

Branagh could not argue the point too greatly. ‘So what has the very talented Tom done to warrant you trying to occupy your mind with dull after scene work?’ She gave him an analytical look. ‘You are very cautious.’

‘You have to be in this line of work.’

‘I was eager to take you for this job because you were not the same overly cautious as others, you had a daring streak to you, or so I thought.’

‘It takes considerable daring to choose to allow yourself be with someone such as Tom, in the media, surrounded by women of both wealth and talent, and do not get me started on the internet fans.’

‘That is more than a little true,’ Branagh conceded once more. ‘So is the issue one of these women?’

‘Well, he is on a press thingy with Maisie Williams at the moment, and seeing as she is about twenty years old, I think him being interested would send up a few more than the usual warnings, don’t you?’

‘The girl from Game of Thrones?’

‘Arya Stark, yes.’

‘Oh, I was thinking the red-haired one, no, I have you now.’

‘So, no, it is not that. I trust him there. I don’t always trust some women not to try something, but I trust him to decline.’ Branagh nodded slightly. ‘I think he is planning something behind my back and I don’t know what. I don’t think it is negative, but I think he thinks it could be construed as such by me and I have no idea what it is.’ When she looked at the director again, she erupted in laughter. ‘I take it you regret asking?’

‘I have no idea what you just said.’ He confessed.

‘I accidentally heard part of a conversation that I assume I was not supposed to hear and Tom mentioned that no, he didn’t ask me something because he was frightened what I would say, and now I am wracking my brains trying to figure out what this is because he is all addled by it, which is making me all addled by it, and I am fucking losing sleep at this stage and I bet, knowing him, it is something fucking mundane and all this is just us losing our heads for nothing.’ Branagh frowned. ‘Yeah, you regret asking.’ She chuckled before looking to the side at her paperwork, which was being kept safe from the elements in a file. ‘Fuck, this is miserable.’

‘Can you imagine how these people actually felt?’

‘I dare say Dublin was confused.’

‘Yeah, well, neutral means neutral, right?’

‘You think the Germans were right to do it?’ Branagh asked curiously.

‘Not particularly, but I understand their reasons. Belfast was us helping our own, but if we were helping a British occupied area, that’s not neutral, is it?’

‘You are a very intelligent woman. You look at all the angles, not just your own.’

‘Would you expect anything less from someone with Tom?’ There was a moment’s silence and a knowing look. ‘There is a lot of things she can be called, stupid is not one of them.’ She winked.

‘You think so?’

‘I know so. She is smart, there nothing wrong in acknowledging that. A different type of smart though. I read Yeats because I love his work, I doubt she ever even heard of him.’

‘Yeats, not Shakespeare?’

‘Nah, I’ll stick to Irish.’

‘But you know….?’

‘Yes, doesn’t everyone know his work? I think there are street children in Sri Lanka that know his name.’

‘Favourite play?’

‘Are you going to judge me on it?’ She asked with a raised brow.

‘Very much so.’

‘As You Like It.’ Branagh stared at her in interest. ‘Not what you were expecting?’

‘Not at all. An interesting choice.’

‘Some of his most famous quotes are from it, “All the world’s a stage” and “Too much of a good thing”. It is overlooked because it is a comedy and not a tragedy, but I love it.’ She smiled. She was about to say more when she felt her phone vibrating in her pocket, as soon as she felt it buzz again, she excused herself and got to a sheltered spot. When she pulled it out, she saw Emma’s name on the screen. ‘Ems?’

‘Hey.’

‘Is everything alright?’ There was a definite something to Emma’s tone that worried her.

‘I was ringing to ask you.’ Danielle looked at the phone in confusion. ‘Tom seems odd.’

‘Tom is odd at the best of times, Ems, but yes, I think he is a little off of late. He seems like something is bothering him and I am trying to let him to talk to me whenever it suits but he has said nothing, so I didn’t want to talk about it and possibly make a mountain out of a molehill because I could be utterly wrong and be reading things arseways.’

‘Yeah. I don’t know.’ Emma conceded. ‘Maybe it’s just that he misses you.’

‘Perhaps.’ Danielle laughed. ‘How are you?’

‘Okay, I guess. I really need a catch-up.’

‘I am home at the end of the week, we will sort one then.’

‘Okay. I will see you then, I have news.’

‘Wait, what is the news?’

‘I’ll tell you then.’

‘Emma!’

‘I will talk to you then.’ She insisted, though Danielle could hear her smile. ‘Bye.’

‘Worst friend ever,’ She growled at the phone as Emma giggled and hung up. Only after she hung up did she sense another in the room, turning around, she gave a small smile. ‘Hello, ignore me and my madness.’

Redmayne laughed, stirring his tea. ‘You’re quite alright, I am sorry for having accidentally eavesdropped on your conversation.’

‘It’s nothing, just Tom’s sister worrying about him.’

‘Is something wrong?’

‘Not that I know, but I have been busy here not allowing you all be blown up, so I doubt he would tell me if there was, he would want me concentrating on this.’ She sighed. ‘In all fairness, I probably should not have anyone distract me in this utter clusterfuck of things that could go really badly.’

‘Was that fire supposed to be so intense?’

‘From what the effects guys were saying, I don’t think so, but they are not telling me if it is wrong, and I am not going to be popular when I ask later.’

‘You work really hard.’

‘Doesn’t most anyone here. I mean, look at that costume, someone sat sewing that for hours.’ She pointed to the uniform he was wearing under a jacket. ‘It’s not an easy job getting these gigs, so you have to be good.’ She stated, grabbing a bottle of water and heading back outside.

*

Tom watched the dogs run around the dog park happily, chasing one another and interacting with the other canines. He was still contemplating how to bring it up to Danielle without her feeling like it was pressuring her. He wanted nothing more than to get it off her chest. At first, before she left, he thought there was something bothering her, but it was clear from their conversations on the phone since their separation, that she knew something was bothering him and was waiting for him to talk about it. Sighing, he thought more about how to just ask her.

When he received a message, he thought to ignore it while out, but instead, he decided to see if it was the alterations Luke said his PA would send on regarding the Blue Peter episode he was going on. When he looked at his phone, he frowned and inhaled deeply, reading Redmayne’s words carefully, he knew the answer to the question asked.

Is there a reason you haven’t asked her yet?

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

Theoretical Knowledge

“Remember kids,” you say sitting on the desk, feet folded as you cradle a cup of coffee, “A theory is JUST a framework for understanding. So. As we discuss Marxist, Feminist, and Queer Theories, no. I am not telling you that you HAVE to use only those theories and you HAVE to see the world that way. So please. Please keep the tweetstorms to a minimum in class. Just remember. If you don’t understand the theories, you can’t argue against them effectively.”

You smile and set your coffee cup down. “That said, Tuesday, we’ll be starting with Feminist Theory. Please read the chapter before class and come prepared to engage in our preliminary discussion.”

College kids, mostly freshmen start to trickle out, gathering their things and clustering up a few at a time. You alternately loved and hated teaching lower-level courses. The amount of handholding that they needed to be housebroken for their upper-level courses got a little more astounding every semester but... Still. There was something lovely about helping them build a solid foundation for the rest of their careers. 

You pause to answer a few questions. Careful to help them find the correct information. People for the next class were queuing up just beyond your periphery and you direct the stragglers to you office hours. You can feel the grumpy glare of Barnes, the mathematics professor and you cringe internally. You were willing to bet that you were going to have a shitty email waiting on you this evening. Some tripe about respecting other people’s time. Like it was your fault they’d shoehorned your 100 level classes into the Mathematics building. It was all the way across campus and there wasn’t decent coffee to be found anywhere on any floor. It was a miserable utilitarian clusterfuck of a building. Still. On some level it was super fun to get under his skin. The grump ass.

But, you were a good girl. You ignored his impatient harrumphs and tried not to glare at him when he slammed his stuff down and startled you. You erased the board carefully and quietly gathered your things as he sent an attendance sheet around the room, starting his droning on about Proofs or whatever the fuck. You even smiled, just a little when you caught his eye.

Numbers left you cold. 

They reminded you of sitting on the floor in the hallway. Flecks of mica winking mockingly at you as you try to finish the times table drill through the tremors in your hands and the tears that are threatening to spill. 

They reminded you of desperation. Frantically searching couch cushions for change. Just 80 cents so that you could at least get some fries at lunch. You’’re sick. Too sick to go to school but you can’t miss Algebra and there’s no food in the house. 

Numbers are an immutable fact. You can’t change them. No amount of new information will change that 2+2 is 4. Or change the fact that when you run the numbers, you come up wanting. So you try, very hard not to think about how irritating Barnes is. How you hate the aloofness in his face and how badly you’d like to see him smile to see if it made his eyes look less... Less frozen. 

As you strode across campus, anxious to get out of the cutting wind and stinging snow, back to your warm office and good coffee. Back on what felt like Terra Firma where you could discuss Russian Literature, and Freud’s Bullshit, and witchcraft, and stupid tv. Things you understood. Things you’d studied just for the sake of knowing. Things that had lead you here. You pushed the thoughts of Professor James Barnes out of your mind. He was as he was, and with any luck, it would only be for a semester that your existence would cause him any more irritation. Still. As you unlocked your door and settled behind your desk... There had to be something to be done about him. Something to chill him out just a little bit. You were just considering texting your usual gang of miscreants and rogue academics. You weren’t sure if it was for a war council or just for a drink. But you were saved having to figure it out when a familiar red head hurled herself dramatically across your desk.

“Please. I’m dying. Tinder sucks. Can we please. Please. Pretty fucking please go out. I miss out,” she says.

“Tasha,” you laugh, petting her hair absently, not looking up from your email, but pausing long enough to pat her hair, “You’re the one that said we couldn’t go out anymore.”

“And I was wrong. So. Very Wrong.”

“Well I’m not opposed but you know that if we don’t invite the boys they’ll be sad.”

“Tap room?”

“Sounds great,” you say absently, glaring at the missive that had just popped up.

Natasha arranged herself in a more dignified position in you guest chair and helped herself to a coffee and a snack, “Your face is making a face,” she frowns. 

“It’s just my best Buddy over in the Mathematics department,” you sigh rolling your eyes.

“Barnes right?” she says taking a sip of coffee.

You nod and turn the screen so she can read it.

You watch her eyes scan the monitor and watch the frown lines materialize, “What the fuck. Like dude. It’s just flavored coffee.”

“Right?”

“Control freak.”

“For fucking real. Like. Ew.”

You roll your eyes and she picks up her phone, “Maybe one of the Boys will know something.”

“Maybe,” you shrug, refusing to respond with apologies. 

________

“Bucky!” Steve said leaning on the door frame, “Come on. We’re going out.”

“No thank you,” Bucky said snorting, “I really don’t want to have to carry your drunk ass home. Or listen to you spout Poli-sci bullshit to try and get girls.”

“Well the girls we’re going with are gonna be completely unavailable and uninterested. We’re gonna hit the tap room and watch the game.” Steve frowned at his friend who kept glancing at his laptop like he was waiting on something. 

“What did you do, Bucky?” he asked folding his arms.

“Nothing,” he huffed.

“Well if you scowl at your computer any harder it’s gonna burst into flames.”

“I’m just waiting on an email,” he said feeling uncomfortable under Steve’s scrutiny. Squirming slightly in his chair. 

“Who are you picking a fight with now?” Steve scolded.

“I’m not.”

“James.”

“I don’t know what she teaches. Some social science thing. But she leaves the lecture hall a mess and reeking of flavored coffee.”

Steve rolled his eyes, “You’re doing it again.”

“Doing what?” he snapped.

“Missing Yelena and taking it out on some random girl that’s just slightly messy.”

“I’m not.” he said petulantly, “It’s unprofessional to take up my time.”

Steve restrained an eyeroll with effort, “C’mon, ya grumpy fuck. You like Nat fine. And Sam is coming. You can’t just rot in your house and forget how to live forever.”

“Fuck you.”

“Yeah yeah,” Steve said dismissively, “Pick you up at 7.” And he was gone before Bucky had a chance to formulate a reply.

The truth was complicated. Bucky knew exactly what you taught. The Anthropology of Religion. Folklore. Witchcraft. He’d read everything you had ever written. He followed your Twitter. He just. He didn’t understand you. You had a mind suited for numbers. Logical. Straight forward. Applying science and advocating for greater understanding with reckless abandon. 

But all you studied was... Stories. None of it was real. it was smoke and shadows. Illusions. He could only assume you were the same way. An illusion. You were pretty enough. Funny. But there had to be something... broken inside you. Something that you were hiding. Something to be wary of. He just didn’t know how to explain that to Steve. 

Numbers he understood. They were what they were regardless. If there was a mistake, he made it. There was no one else to blame with numbers. They sang to him like nothing else did. They spoke to him and whispered secrets. 

They made him think of being warm in bed with a book of number puzzles and a cup of hot chocolate on a snow day. The joy of solving a problem he’d been teasing at for days. It was happiness in its purest form. Accomplishment. Order from chaos.

You were chaos to which he saw no order. He couldn’t find a pattern to you. A nimbus of coffee and lost trains of thought. Bucky did not understand you and as he stared at his laptop, waiting for a reply, he wasn’t sure he wanted to. 

He decidedly didn’t want to. And he couldn’t wait for the semester to be over.

Tags: @lancsnerd @blameitonthecauseway @thorfanficwriter @stevieang @etherealwaifgoddess

[laws-hat-headcanons]

10 + 10

I realised after I had posted this that I did it on a reblog that was already pretty long... so I have now done a separate post to try and make it smaller! Sorry! 

I was tagged twice to do this and was writing out my answers when Coop tagged me AGAIN!! So I am sorry to all of you, this is long and you're going to learn more about me than you probably wanted to!!

Answer 10 questions then add 10 of your own: 

@lucynnamonroll thank you for the first Tag flower!

1. A dream that you still remember?

I dreamt once that someone was chasing me and my dog and they bit me, took a big chunk out of my arm. And then my dog gave me this big blue fruit and my arm grew back. My dreams are always very strange.

2. What job did you want to do when you were younger?

I wanted to be a vet but I am way too emotional around poorly animals and also not smart enough to learn how to treat them haha!

3. And now? Did it has changed?

Yeah, I don't think I was ever cut out to be a vet. I'd like to work with animals though, maybe kennels or something? Zoo Keeper would be cool.

4. A favorite game?

I'm gonna take this as video game... There are a lot. I love Mass Effect and Dragon age, Gears of War... but Horizon Zero Dawn was amazing. I loved every single thing about it. Beautiful game, great story – just.. chefs kiss

5. Where did you have traveled? (Either it’s in your country or not)

I've been a few places- France, Spain, Somewhere else hot but I can't recall where... Ireland, Scotland. I was supposed to have gone to Bulgaria at the beginning of May but Coronavirus done fucked me over.

6. Did you have a totem animal/a favorite animal?

Ever since I was about 6 wolves have been my favourite animals. I originally started drawing so I could create a wolf fursona …. siiigghhh

7. Did you/Do you have a teddy bear to help you to sleep? How it was looking?

Yes, a little dog called Custard. He is a beige colour with brown ears but is still in pretty good condition. He sits on my desk chair when I'm not using it.

8. THE animated (or not) serie of your childhood/teenage years?

TEENAGE MUTANT NINJA TURTLES – heroes in a half shell, turtle power!! I was also hella into Dragon Ball Z on Toonami when I was a kid. I remember we went to see some family up north and they didn't have Toonami and I cried because it was mid way through the Buu arc and I was gonna miss it.

9. Do you have anime/series/movie/whatever things merch?

I have a few bits. A Hatake Kakashi figure, one for Katakuri and Zoro. A heart Pirates hoodie. I think I have Kid's wanted poster somewhere...

10. How was your day?

Oh. It was a day. I slept through most of it. My energy/motivation levels are pretty low at the moment. But it was sunny, so that was nice.

@luffytarhoe thank you for my second tag!! 💙

1- What’s your favorite show/anime of the moment ?

I don't watch a huge amount of anime despite the focus of this blog. So probably One piece on that front. Otherwise I am watching Outlander atm, which is pretty good but there is sooooo much sex. An ungodly amount of sex.

2- What type of music are you into?

My music tastes are quite varied. I like stuff that you can listen to and put into a situation, so usually sad stuff where I can imagine I am the main character weeping over the bodies of my fallen comrades. Also Goo Goo Dolls!

3- If you could have one superpower , what would it be ?

Probability, or luck. Like Domino in Deadpool. That's always been such a cool concept to me.

4- What’s your favorite color ?

Blue and all it's hues. Maybe teal if I had to get specific.

5- Do you prefer animated or live action shows/series ?

I am happy with both. Though some animated shows should stay animated – looking at you ATLA...

6- Do you believe in ghosts ?

I believe that energy never disappears, only changes forms and I don't think that's any different for whatever happens to people energy once we die. I'm a big wimp though so it's easier for me not to believe in them!

7- Do you speak any foreign language(s) ? if yes which ones ?

No, sadly I never had a talent for languages. I'd love to speak Gaelic though.

8- Your n°1 fictional character ?

Probably Stone from the Raksura book series. He's just a fun grumpy old shapeshifting man.

9- Would you say you’re more of an extrovert or an introvert?

Definitely an introvert. I like me time. And all my hobbies are single person hobbies so that doesn't help haha.

10- What was the best vacation you ever took and why?

I haven't been on holiday in over 10 years but we went to a zoo in Spain once and a Monkey sat on my head. That was pretty rad.

@doctorgerth and finally, thank you for my 3rd tag!!

1. What are your zodiac signs (sun, moon, rising, if you know them) and do you think they fit you pretty well?

I am an Aries and that is pretty much the extent of my knowledge on the subject. Aries are meant to be pretty hot headed and outgoing and I can only really claim to be one of those thing and only when I need to be. So no, I'm not sure it fits me.

2. What is your favorite clothing item and/or accessory?

I don't reallllly care a lot about clothes and or stuff. So I guess either my glasses because I need them to see long distances (and to drive) or my phone if that counts as an accessory because that has all my crap on it.

3. Any future children or pet names?

Noooooooooooooo and no

4. If you could meet anyone (can be past, present, future, real, or fictional) who would it be?

I would have liked to have met Steve Irwin I think. He seemed pretty chill and I grew up watching Crocodile Hunter on TV so he was a big hero of mine for a long time. Also the Rock or Jason Mamoa because of reasons....

5. Brag on yourself! What’s something you love about yourself?

I am passably amusing and guess I write okay too haha

6. What is a movie or show that you could rewatch a million times and never get tired of?

The film Evolution is endlessly funny to me and it makes me laugh every time I watch it. I used to have it on VHS and I kept a video player in the house to watch it until my cousin got it for me on DVD (Yes I am old.)

7. What is your favorite album of all time?

I haven't listened to it in a long time but I really loved Maroon 5 – Songs about Jane.

8. Do you believe in ghosts and/or aliens? If you have stories to back up, plz share.

I want to belllieeveeeeee! Ghosts, yes, hesitantly but I think I answered that in a previous one. Aliens 100% because I refuse to believe that we are the only sentient life the universe. It's just... statistically impossible.

9. What do you do/who do you look to for inspiration?

I guess human being wise my mum is my inspiration for a lot of things? She's just a lovely person and she's very kind and sweet. I am very aware that we are not much alike, but I look to her as the sort of example of a good person. Creativity wise it's just a clusterfuck of books and badly organised pinterest boards.

10. What is your happiest memory?

Practically anything that has my nephews in it I guess. They're just... hilariously weird little dudes and I love them so much. They always make me laugh.

And here are my questions!!

1. What is your favourite book?

2. What is you most loved item and why?

3. If you got the chance to travel to another planet (knowing you would never see your friends or family again) would you do it?

4. One song that makes you cry?

5. Do you believe in supernatural stuff? Ghosts and Monsters and Fairies? Any experiences with it?

6. What is the most embarrassing thing you have ever witnessed or had happen to you?

7. What one thing would you buy if you had the money?

8. What is your worst habit/personality trait?

9. If you could alter your body with one cool feature, what would it be? (camera eyes, monkey tail, etc)

10. Do you have the patience to play a full game of Monopoly with no breaks?

I'll tag @pinkhatlizzy @nakunakunomi @lirulee @one-piece-dumpster-fire and anyone else who wants to answer my dumb questions!! Tag me because if you decide to do it so I can see your answers 💙

[serendipitous-magic]

Question Game - AKA Oversharing Hour

I was tagged by @the-angry-pixie​! And I’m a chronic oversharer, so this was fun. I’ll put most of it under a read more line because there’s a LOT.

1. Do you prefer writing with a black pen or blue pen? 

Black. Dunno why.

2. Would you prefer to live in the country or city? 

City city city city city city city city. I’m already going fucking batshit as it is, trapped in suburbia. I want to be able to actually do things, anything. Anything other than just being around the house and / or work. (And I felt like this before the pandemic started.) If you live in the city you can walk out your door and be somewhere else within like 5 minutes. A city park, a cafe, a train/subway, a local attraction, a museum, an artist’s booth, an outdoor market, etc. etc. 

Living in suburbia is like, well, to go literally anywhere you have to get into your car first and drive like 10 minutes minimum to get out of the neighborhood, and then if you want to go anywhere that’s not the grocery store you have to drive 20 minutes to get to another area of town, and then once you get there that’s the only place you can be without getting into your car again and getting a nice shot of anxiety from having to drive in traffic and have aggressive drivers roar up on your ass because you’re going 5mph above the speed limit and they want to be going 15mph above, and god help you if you have to merge, and oh by the way this is your only option to get around because public transit doesn’t really exist in any useful way in Big Suburbia, and nothing in within walking distance of your house except like 2 playgrounds and maybe one (1) gas station. (I hate it here lmao)

If I was trapped in the country I’d probably be chill with it for about a week, and enjoy the break, and the on day 8 I’d snap and go on a murdering spree out of stir-craziness.

3. If you could learn a new skill what would it be? 

I want to learn German and eventually be fluent in it. But since I’ve already started trying to learn and I don’t know if that counts, I’ll say cinematography. As in the actual working of the camera and lighting and all that. I can dream up some pretty striking images but actually getting the camera to do the settings needed to capture them is another story entirely.

4. Do you drink your tea/coffee with sugar? 

Nope. I drink coffee and tea both, and I don’t put any kind of sweetener in either of them. I used to put a shitton of sugar in my coffee and honey in my tea, and then I had some mild eating disorder struggles in college and I never got back in the habit of putting stuff in my hot drinks after that. It just tastes wrong now, after being used to plain black coffee.

5. What was your favourite book as a child? 

Either the Harry Potter series or The Hobbit. My grandma would take care of me a lot when I was really little because my parents both worked full time to support us, and every single time I was at her house she’d sit us down at the dining room table and read something to me. Not Junie B. Jones or anything, either, but real, big, thick books. I loved the shit out of Harry Potter and The Hobbit; I would request them repeatedly. We pretty much went back and forth; we’d read Harry Potter, and then The Hobbit, and then when a new Harry Potter book came out we’d read that, and then The Hobbit again, and so on and so forth.

6. Do you prefer baths or showers? 

Showers. I love baths, they’re magical, but ain’t nobody got time for that unless it’s a special occasion. I got too much shit to do to spend an hour lying in the bathtub.

7. If you could be a mythical creature, which one would it be? 

Vampire. Purely on the basis that if I was immortal maybe I’d finally have time to get my to-do list done and accomplish things. I’d miss the sunlight though.

8. Paper or electronic books? 

Paper. Here’s the thing, I really want to enjoy ebooks, but they just don’t hold my attention at all. Maybe I’m too conditioned by the internet to have a short attention span when I’m looking at a screen, idk.

9. What is your favourite item of clothing? 

I have a dark gray hoodie from the Seattle Aquarium from when I went on a road trip across America with my BFF a few years ago. It’s still my absolute favorite thing. I also enjoy my hiking boots a lot. (I wear them all the time, really they should just be called “everyday boots” haha)

10. Do you like your name or would you like to change it?

I like my name and I would also like to start going by something different. Probably just because I’m a restless soul and I feel the best (and least trapped) when I’m on the move or when things are changing. The second I get somewhere I want to be somewhere else. That’s just how I am. Gwen is a cool name (I’ve personally met maybe 3 people in my whole life with the same name, face-to-face), but there’s a lot attached to that nickname that I don’t necessarily want to carry with me when I eventually escape my hometown and start down a new path.

11. Who is a mentor to you? 

A friend and former professor whom I usually refer to online as Producer Man. He’s a producer (as you may have guessed) who kind of took me under his wing after I was in one of his film classes in college. We work together on film projects now and he’s teaching me bit-by-bit (usually by way of long, rambling, tangential stories / lectures) about the industry. He’s a really good guy. Like, he for sure has a case of Old White Guy sometimes, but his heart is absolutely in the right place. “He’s a little confused, but he’s got the spirit.” He’s always leaving $10 tips at coffee places and working himself to the bone to get his students connected to jobs and internships that will help them with their careers. 

12. Would you like to be famous and if so, what for? 

Yes, my stories. Actually, “famous” is not the right word. It’s just that fame is so tightly associated with success in our society. I want to be successful. Whether I’m widely known or not is pretty inconsequential to me. I want to make stories and I want them to have an impact. Books, film, etc. It’s about as simple as that.

13. Are you a restless sleeper? 

Oh yeah. I have trouble  sleeping as much as I should because I usually kind of jerk awake in the morning with this vague feeling that I forgot something or that I’m late for something. Also I stay up later than I should because I’m a night owl, and yet I like being up early because early mornings are great. And usually if I dream at all it’s something kind of stressful, like I dream that I forgot something important or did something wrong. I’m a Stressed Bean. 

14. Do you consider yourself a romantic person? 

I think so, yeah. I’m pretty obsessed with the idea of romance (I mean look at my OTPs), but heteronormativity got me fucked up enough that I’m bad at actually navigating real romantic feelings or relationships because society never prepared me for The Gay.

15. Which element best represents you? 

Fire, probably.

16. Who do you want to be closer to? 

My mom. We fight a lot and there tends to be a lot of tension between us. It’s a long complicated story. It boils down to, she really hurt me when I came out as not-straight at 15 and she lost all of my trust and even though she’s working on being less homophobic we’re still kind of trying to repair that divide seven years later.

17. Do you miss someone at the moment? 

Dude, I miss everyone. I’m an introvert and I’d love to be at a big party right now. I miss socialization. (As does everyone.) 

18. Tell us about an early childhood memory. 

The first time I experienced deja vu, I was about eehhh 6? And I legitimately believed, for several years of my life, that I had future-predicting abilities. Like, supernatural-level future-predicting abilities. Because I didn’t really know what deja vu was, so I thought, every time it happened, that I had already ~seen~ that moment in my dreams or something. 🤣

19. What is the strangest thing you have eaten? 

Hm. (My immature ass brain yells “DICK.” No, brain. Those were dark heteronormative times. Also, grow up.) 

Probably some of the sushi in Seattle. I actually love sushi, it’s just that when it has full-on legs and eyeballs I start getting a little squeamish. I like the rolls and the kind where there’s some fish meat laid out on a nice little bed of rice, that’s delicious. But when they brought out the whole shrimp with legs still attached, I was like “How in the (redacted) am I going to chew / swallow that.”

20. What are you most thankful for? 

That I happened to be living with family when this pandemic hit. I was supposed to move out (and across the country, actually) as of... like 4 days ago, as it happens. That was the plan. Plane ticket was gonna be booked for 7/15/20. Obviously, things didn’t quite work out that way, because of the pandemic and a few other reasons. But I can’t imagine if I had been in an apartment living with roommates, or in an apartment on my own struggling to get by, when this happened. A lot of people couldn’t pay rent and lost their homes. I was very, very lucky to be where I was, when I was, and very lucky that I have family who let me stay in their house pretty much indefinitely while this clusterfuck of a year happens.

21. Do you like spicy food? 

Yes! I looooove spicy thai food especially. I miss the massaman curry from a local Thai place so much 😭

22. Have you ever met someone famous? 

Um. Maybe? I met Veronica Roth once at an author talk in the library where I work, although it was before I worked there. And I met some guy from New Zealand who’s famous for his sword fighting skills because my dad does sword fighting stuff. Don’t remember his name though.

23. Do you keep a diary or journal? 

Yep. I have to write down everything or I forget. (I often say I have the memory of a goldfish.) Also, I have this compulsion to record and preserve my experiences in life, because I feel like our time on Earth is so fleeting and if I don’t write down what’s important to me, I’ll forget it and lose it.

24. Do you prefer to use a pen or a pencil? 

Pen. Pencil gets smudged.

25. What is your star sign? 

Scorpio, which is ironic because they’re supposed to be ~hyper sexual~ I guess, and I’m like gray-ace or something in that zone.

26. Do you like your cereal soggy or crunchy? 

Crunchy. Who eats soggy cereal? Are you okay? Do you need help? This is an intervention. 

27. What would you want your legacy to be? 

My stories. Life and sentience, as we experience it, is made up of just that: experience. And I read somewhere that, on some level, the human brain doesn’t differentiate that much between real life experiences and fictional experiences. I think that’s true. If you read or watch or hear the right story, it can really touch you and change the way you see life, or even change the way you live life. Stories have an incredible amount of power, both in individual people’s lives and in larger society. A huge amount of power. I want to be able to give people experiences that will Enrich Their Lives (do I sound like a lifestyle coach yet? 🤦🏼‍♀️), but also stories that actively do good in society. Positive representation, body positivity/neutrality, diversity, healthy relationships (Hollywood has a real problem with that). Hope. It’s the best thing I can think to give society, and storytelling is what I love to do.

28. Do you like reading, what was the last book you read? 

I love reading. I wish I did it more. Part of my problem is that I get caught up in the hectic Rat Race of modern society and I never feel like I have time to sit down with a book for hours. Another problem of mine is that I start too many things at once, meaning I currently have like 5-10 (I lost count) books that I started reading, and I want to finish all of them, which means no progress ever gets done on any of them.

I last finished The Goldfinch, and I am currently working on The Secret History, Good Omens, Dune, a book my dad wrote, Directing Actors, Shot by Shot, The Way of Kings and I forget what else.

29. How do you show someone you love them? 

Physical affection, acts of service, words of affirmation, quality time, and gifts, in that order. If I’m close to someone, whether romantically or not, I want all the affection. And I’m kind of dying in quarantine. 

30. Do you like ice in your drinks? 

Depends. I usually don’t put any in, because it’s just gonna water down the drink and get in the way of drinking it (you know when the ice attacks your face?), but I don’t really mind ice in my drinks.

31. What are you afraid of? 

Helplessness. I Have Control Issues. ✌️ Also stagnation.

32. What is your favourite scent? 

Amber. Or any scent that’s kind of autumn-y. You know what I mean. Some other examples include dryer sheets, wood smoke, cigarette smoke (my big sister used to smoke a long long time ago, and although I never saw her do it, I still associate the scent with her), pine resin, rain, that Mahogany Woods scent from Bath and Bodyworks.

33. Do you address older people by their name or surname? 

If they introduce themselves as Pam I call them Pam. If they introduce themselves as Mr. Brown I call them Mr. Brown.

34. If money was not a factor, how would you live your life? 

 If “money is not a factor” means I have an infinite amount of money to spend as I wish, then: buy land, build film studio complex on land, found company, hire fellow creatives, make movies.

If “money is not a factor” just means that I don’t have to work 40 hours a week to afford rent, then: move to Chicago, rent a nice studio apartment, write stories, maybe work 15 hours a week at a used bookstore or coffee shop to get me out of the house and socialize. Go to museums, go to the park, walk along Lake Michigan, go to gay bars, ride the train, brave the Illinois winters, own a cat, paint, play guitar. Build my actual career on writing / storytelling. Probably also do some filmmaking.

Alternatively: buy an RV (not like an American Trailer Park shitty RV, I’m talking the NOICE ones), buy good film equipment, be a freelancer, live in RV driving around to wherever the next filming location is. Life is a road trip and I’m doing what I love. Writing, storytelling, filmmaking. My home would travel with me. Writing in cafes; roadside attractions; early mornings on the road with coffee in the cup holder as the sun comes up; being able to go anywhere to film; always experiencing something new.

35. Do you prefer swimming in pools or the ocean? 

I’ve lived in a landlocked state my whole life, so I guess swimming pools. And, listen, I CANNOT get water in my mouth at the beach without wondering exactly how many kids have peed (or worse) in that water. (I know that’s a thing with pools too, but pools get cleaned.)

36. What would you do if you found £50 on the ground? 

Wonder what some poor European is doing in America right now. But if it was $50, I’d probably yell “DID ANYONE DROP THIS?” and then take it if no one speaks up.

37. Have you ever seen a shooting star? 

A few times, yeah.

38. What is the one thing you would want to teach your children? 

Grades are not the end-all-be-all. Skip some homework assignments to spend time with friends. Skip class sometimes. I’m serious. If you make school your top priority, even over your own personal life, you will come away with good grades and a lot of regret and missed opportunities. Learning is HELLA important, and very very little of it happens inside a school building. Get a 15 hour weekend or after-school job in high school, befriend your coworkers, and have fun with it. Use your paychecks however you want. Join a school club - one that you’re actually interested in. Do stupid shit. Light your textbooks on fire after graduation or go to the 24 hour Wendy’s at 2am with your friends or kiss that person you met at summer camp or sleep on the porch because it’s too hot to sleep inside. Be smart and safe, but follow your whims. If you let yourself fall into routine, apathy will poison you.

39. If you had to have a tattoo, what would it be and where would you get it? 

I already have a couple small ones, but the one I want next is a four-leaf clover. Don’t know where. Maybe my right inner wrist or maybe an ankle. Or like behind my ear. Luck has saved me so many times. (See above, with how I happened to be living with family when COVID hit.)

40. What can you hear now? 

Swamp cooler downstairs, the clock ticking in my office, cars outside, people moving around the house. I’m surprised the neighbor kids aren’t shrieking their absolute heads off as per the usual. 

41. Where do you feel the safest? 

When I’m alone and unobserved. 

42. What is the one thing you want to overcome/conquer? 

TMI warning, but I absolutely despise public bathrooms. How am I expected to pee when there’s somebody sitting like three (3) feet away, with only a partial wall between us, hearing everything that’s going on? My fight or flight response simply will not allow it. It’s too awkward and therefore Not Safe. Either that public restroom has to be empty except for me, or it has to be so loud and bustling that ain’t nobody hearing anything. Anything in-between and I’m in hell.

43. If you could travel back to any era, what would it be? 

The ‘80s. Let’s be honest, even that far back makes my life (as a woman, and as a gay person) hella difficult. But, consider this: it’s the ‘80s. Furthermore, consider this: a part-time job might have actually supported me and paid rent back then 😱 Holy fucking shit. Sign me up. I just wouldn’t want to go any further than than like 1980, because again: lesbian. Being a woman in the past = even harder than it is today, being gay in the past = even harder than it is today, being a gay woman in the past = oh no.

44. What is your most used emoji? 

In order of descending frequency:

😂🙄😊😁🤦🏼‍♀️👀😬🌈🤷🏼‍♀️😙

45. Describe yourself using one word. 

Creative

46. What do you regret the most?

Wasting my entire teenage experience. (See #38.) I did quite literally nothing with my life except homework for like 18 years. If I had taken even a tenth as much time for myself as I did for school, I would be so much farther along as a person today.

47. Last movie you saw? 

In the theaters? ........ uh. Shit, I don’t actually remember. It’s been like 5 months. (As it has for everyone.) But the last movie I watched was Lights Out, because I’ve been watching the director’s youtube channel. You could tell it was low-budget and that the director was still kind of finding his stride, but it had a lot of heart behind it and the creators clearly gave a fuck, which made it enjoyable. I am firmly in the camp of “not everything has to be a Magnum Opus or have a multi-billion dollar budget to be a good movie.” If I engaged with it and got some sort of emotional experience out of it, and if it had a good message, I consider it a good movie.

48. Last tv show you watched? 

I don’t usually watch a whole lot of TV shows (who has the time?) but I think the last thing I watched was either The Witcher or that new Unsolved Mysteries miniseries on Netflix. Oh and I was watching Dead to Me because I just love Linda Cardellini’s face and I want to wrap Judy up in a blanket and cuddle the shit out of her and protect her from all things 🥺 My precious beautiful unstable sweet murder baby.

49. Invent a word and it’s meaning. 

Apapanic. It’s where you’re so stressed about things that half of your brain is panicking but the other half is so overwhelmed that it circled all the way back around to being calm to the point of apathy, so you just kind of sit there like

[omgjasminesimone]

Tequila Sunrise Part I

Logan x MC

Author’s Note: I miss Ride or Die. And the ending was so sad! So I wrote this, a Logan x MC reunion. This is Part 1. Let me know if you’d like to be tagged in future parts!

Next Part: Part II

Tag List:  @choicesarehard @ifyouseekheart @brightpinkpeppercorn @powdesiree0816 @regina-and-happiness

Summary: 10 years have passed since Logan and Ellie last saw each other. Logan assumed Ellie would have forgotten about him by now, but considering how her eyes widen from across the crowded bar in Mexico when she spots him, seems like she hasn’t.

Word Count: 1572

Puerta Vallarta, Mexico

“Hola, una cerveza, por favor.” Logan shouts at the bartender over the pounding music. The bartender nods, cracking open the bottle and sliding it across the bar to Logan.

“Gracias.” Logan says, leaving 20 pesos on the bar and taking a seat on a bar stool when one finally becomes available.  

Logan sips on his beer and tries to enjoy himself, but he regrets agreeing to come out with his friend tonight. Now that he’s pushing thirty, he really feels like bars with blaring reggaeton aren’t exactly his scene.  

“Logan!” His friend Paul appears, approaching him from the dance floor with two blonde early 20 somethings in tow. Although Paul is in his mid-30s, this bar is exactly his kind of scene. Paul is also an ex-pat. Like Logan, he’s hiding out in Mexico. Logan doesn’t know the details, but he knows Paul’s crime had something to do with a Ponzi scheme.

Paul smiles, “Meet Claudia and her friend Tracy.” Paul is clearly interested in Claudia, the prettier of the two, and is attempting to push Tracy off on Logan so he can get Claudia alone.

Logan takes another sip of his beer and gives Tracy a quick look over. She’s attractive, but she’s trying too hard. She’s wearing too much make-up, and her low cut tight black dress leaves nothing to the imagination.

Paul gives Logan a pleading look, and Logan resists his urge to roll his eyes. He smiles charmingly at Tracy. “Hi. I’m Logan.”

…

..

.

After several more drinks, Tracy manages to lure him out to the dance floor. She grinds against him aggressively, not at all shy about what she’s getting at. He goes with it, it’s not like he’s opposed to a meaningless hook up. It’s all he’s allowed himself, ever since Ellie.

He shakes his head, trying not to think about her. He can’t believe she still has a hold on him, ten years later. Tracy had been facing away from him, grinding her butt against his crotch, but she turns around now, speaking loudly into his ear.

“I’m going to the bathroom.” She places a quick kiss to his lips. “Don’t go anywhere.” She says.

He smirks charmingly. “I’ll be here.”

She smiles, kissing him a little more roughly this time before heading off.

Logan tugs on his sweat soaked white shirt. It’s hot in here, and their previous activities did nothing to cool him off. He heads back to the bartender, squeezing through dancing couples on the bar’s dance floor, and orders another beer.

Several people get up from the bar stools near him, heading out of the increasingly busy and crowded bar. With the middle stools clear, Logan spots a woman at the other end of the bar, quickly downing a Tequila Sunrise. “Una mas, por favor.” She orders, her Spanish accent a little off but still understandable. Even though it’s loud in here, he’d recognize that voice anywhere. It’s almost like she senses him, because she looks up and her eyes meet his. Those caramel colored eyes, he sees them often in his dreams. Her eyes widen in surprise. He briefly wonders if he’s hallucinating. He looks down at his beer and then back at her, fully expecting her to have disappeared. But she’s still there.

They both head for the other, meeting in the middle.

“Logan, is it really you?” She reaches out, placing a hand on his cheek tentatively.

He pulls her into a hug. “Ellie.” He breathes into her ear, tightening his hold.

…

..

.

He can barely hear himself think inside, so he leads her out to the parking lot. He looks her over again. She’s more beautiful than he remembers. With age, she’s filled out in all the right places. Her dark hair is out of the braid he’s used to, cascading down her back in waves. He really can’t believe she’s here. Could this really be a coincidence? Did she track him down somehow? “What are you doing here Ellie?”

She’s brought her Tequila Sunrise out with her. She takes another sip, and he notices she’s a little unsteady on her feet. “I’m supposed to be on my honeymoon.” She admits.

He doesn’t know why that hurts so bad. This is what he wanted. For her to move on. Find someone better. Have everything she always wanted that he could never give to her.

“Oh, congratulations.” He tries to smile, but it comes off as more of a grimace.

“I said supposed to be.” She repeats. “Well, the honeymoon wasn’t going to be here. Do I seem like a Puerta Vallarta honeymoon girl to you?”

“No. You’re more of a European honeymoon girl.” He responds. Back when he briefly let himself think he was done running, that they could have a real future together, he had dreamed about marrying her. Whisking her off to Italy on their honeymoon, where she would drag him to the Colosseum and point out the architectural features she had learned about in AP Art History.  

She smiles. “Exactly. The honeymoon would have been in Paris. But turns out my fiancé was cheating on me with our coworker. So wedding cancelled and girls trip to Mexico to drink myself silly and forget that I was ever supposed to be Mrs. Ellie Gibson. Riya’s idea, we’re still friends.”

“Your coworker?” He repeats.

She finishes her drink, downing the rest quickly. “Yeah, we work together. The whole office was invited to the wedding. I’m sure all the office water cooler talk revolves around this clusterfuck of a situation. God, how am I supposed to show my face there ever again?”

Her eyes well up with tears. He automatically reaches up to wipe her tears away. “Ellie…” He tries to comfort.

“Logan, don’t. It’s fine. I’m fine. I’m dealing. Trent was an asshole anyway. And he was terrible in bed. Looking back, I don’t think I ever even really loved him. I usually thought about you when we were having sex. You don’t do that when you actually love your fiance, right?”

Logan doesn’t know how to respond to that, but Ellie doesn’t seem to want him to say anything anyway.

“I’m going to get another drink. Do you want anything?” She asks. He shakes his head no, and she starts to head back inside. She wobbles, obviously fairly tipsy by this point of the night. He grips her arm to steady her.

“We have a lot to catch up on. Let’s get out of here. I live nearby.” He says. He’s worried about how much she’s drinking, wants to get her away from the bar.

She looks thoughtfully into her empty glass before staring deeply into his blue eyes, looking like she’s weighing her options. “My friends might worry. But then again, they probably expect me to have some kind of drunken Mexican rebound to get over Trent.”

“Ellie, I’m not trying to sleep with you. I want to talk to you.” He explains.

She pouts. “You’re not trying to sleep with me?” She steps into his personal space, trailing a finger down his shirt. “That’s disappointing.”

He gulps, his heart beating faster at her proximity.  “How much have you had to drink tonight?” He asks, hating that his voice comes out sounding shaky, not confident like he wants.

“If I’m not getting any then I might as well go back in and drink more.” She reasons.

“Ellie.” He warns, eyes narrowing as she makes to go back inside. He grips her wrist, keeping her outside with him.

Her free hand reaches up to his face, thumb tracing his lip. “You’ve got something here.” She says, wiping Tracy’s obnoxious glittery pink lip gloss off his bottom lip. Her thumb leaves his lip to trace lightly over his stubble. “This is new. I like it.”  

His eyes dart down to her thumb and then back up to her eyes, not sure what response she’s looking for. “Come back home with me. Please.” He adds at the end, when she looks like she’s going to refuse.  

“Are you driving us back? Haven’t you been drinking?” She asks.

He lets out a relieved breath, good she’s going to cooperate. “No, I live really close by. Right down the beach. We can walk.” He informs her.

“Easy for you to say. You’re not wearing heels.”

He crouches, “Hop on then.” She happily hops onto his back, and his arms hook under her legs as he stands. She wraps her arms around his neck, resting her cheek on his back and making herself comfortable. He almost stumbles when she starts placing soft kisses the back of his neck.

He quickens his pace back to his small beach hut, needing to put more space in between them. She’s drunk and he’s not going to take advantage of her, but damn is it tempting.

…

..

.