#okay so this is technically the fifth post but i want these in a certain order so i'm shuffling things around

[livebloggingmydescentintomadness]

the cockles masterlist, part 3

split in six for link limit reasons

WARNING: this post glitches and crashes on mobile. it’s recommended you view this on your desktop, or at least on your mobile browser rather than the app. if my desktop theme is hard on your eyes, try an extension such as Just Read or Reader View to customize the layout and colors.

if you’re still having trouble viewing, or if you don’t want to have to switch between the five posts, here’s all of the links compiled into a google doc.

welcome to the cockles masterpost, a labor of love/insomniac hyperfixation.

i recently wrote this cockles manifesto, but after it got a lot of notes and i kept adding more links to it, i decided i should just go through my 8 years of archives and compile all the cockles posts in a much more accessible and navigable way. after everything with the series finale and destielgate, i figured we could use some happiness, and it turns out there are a lot of people who’ve never heard the cockles gospel.

important disclaimer: yes, i do think that jensen and misha have a private romantic/sexual relationship, but no i do not, in any way, think that they have ever cheated on their wives. we think they are polyamorous, which is a real and valid thing, and misha is openly poly. some people love more than one person, and that’s okay. their families are close and we love and support all of them.

second important disclaimer: despite the amount of innuendo below, this is not about fantasizing about two hot guys fucking. cockles is about the joy of witnessing two people who love each other and make each other happy and are disgustingly cute together. we’re not fetishizing, we’re just appreciating what they publicly share with us.

third important disclaimer: because some of y’all don’t know, the cardinal rule of cockles is that we don’t talk to cockles about cockles. DO NOT leave any comments on their social media accounts implying anything. not even green and blue hearts. they know that we know, but it’s on us not to make it weird. if we’re too obvious and say too much, they might start sharing less. don’t say anything.

NOTICE: if this list is too long or you don’t know where to start, i wrote a post that one might call an illustrated guide to cockles that breaks down many of the most important moments and what i think they mean.

for the sake of my sanity, these are in no particular order.

last updated: 12/13/22

🐚 denotes new content

part 1 (That’s Suspicious, mishananigans)

part 2 (#pray4jensen, gag reel hijinks, some posts i’ve written about cockles and rps)

part 4 (the glory of jibcon)

part 5 (just for cute)

part 6 (jibcon continued, just for cute continued)

know your cockles history:

The epic love story of Jensen Ackles and Misha Collins | that time misha accidentally (?) tweeted it out

that fucking tree | more gifs

the ten-year anniversary post

the matching bracelets/first ring jensen gave misha | more ring photos | better view of the bracelets/charm

different matching bracelets

another ring jensen gave misha | bonus | also: it’s a thing for queer people to wear their wedding rings on their right hand

matching necklaces jensen bought

the sunset photo | the jumping sunset photo | telling the story of the sunset photos

that time misha reenacted the fake orgasm scene from when harry met sally and jensen..... liked it | a lot | more gifs | callback years later: “if you could do any movie together, what would it be?” | ”i’ll have what he’s having”

misha’s boat trip photos | jensen’s boat trip photo | jared: “and they haven’t released the nudes!”

the boat trip story | jensen closeup | more on the boat trip...

“dmitri, bring it out”

alona tal: “have you ever kissed jensen?” misha: “umm...”

the story of jensen draping his whole body around misha while misha signed autographs + blurry photo

the valentine’s card | video | more gifs 🐚

jensen telling the story of how they met misha (for the hundredth time)

jensen talking about his first scene with misha

the story of the first time the went to dinner together (despite jensen otherwise insisting he can’t remember that far back)

jensen reminiscing about when they met

the mirroring compilation

the infamous reverse french mistake edit

jensen calling misha his ‘pebble’

the chest-to-chest selfie

that time they had a private mass at the vatican??

the family ice cream date

“hey big boy”

people’s choice award acceptance video (gifs)

selfie at the last spn sdcc panel

the time jensen pied misha to haze him when directing his first episode | more gifs | more gifs | jensen complaining that jared pied misha too roughly :(

the cat video dramatic reenactment | more

“would you just drink your fucking water and get off the stage?” | more gifs

the bridal carry photo op

clothes sharing compilation

“i couldn’t see you for a while. got a little nervous.” | more gifs

the temporary breakup speculation

detailed breakdown of events surrounding the potential breakup

misha gave jensen west’s old baby blanket for jj

west took his first steps in jensen’s garden

a collection of favorite cockles moments

some cute moments from the early years

YANA campaign videos: 1 2 3 4 | gifs

cas looked so happy because jensen was making misha laugh

“what were you born in a barn?”

“if your characters had dating profiles, what would they say?”

“i’m not normally one to talk about coworkers, but jensen just let me take this picture of him shirtless”

old interview moments

the time jensen jumped on misha’s back

“it feels like there’s this angel standing over me” | more gifs

the “are these engagement photos?” photo ops | close-ups

jensen looking heartbroken when fans said they didn’t want misha to come back to spn | further context

the mr. and mr. smith photo op

the time jensen walked into radio shack and found a portrait of his face done in skittles (because of misha)

the rugburn™ | the rugburn visible in 8x07

jensen made spn shut down filming because misha was too sick to go on

jensen getting in the question line to ask misha to do a dean impression

the already infamous anal sex fart joke

jensen’s more intimate photo op touches the weekend misha was mugged

last dead guy robe picture

jensen and misha's last on-set photo together

jen crashing misha’s panel with seb

jensen kissing misha just behind the green room door at jib3 2012

eyes like the sky beer

very early smiling at each other onstage

the cockles easter egg in the last of us 2 | full explanation | misha’s tweet  🐚

my alma tag

early years pictures and gifs

the head-leaning hospital photo

misha’s blanky

i’m one of the poor souls who didn’t know that jensen and misha lived together in a vancouver apartment from 2017-end of show | further details

jensen released the song “angeles” on september 18 2012, the fourth anniversary of cas’s first episode. lyrics include, “so glad to meet you, angeles.”

what “aloha, cowboy” actually means

danneel’s photo of jensen reading misha’s poetry book by a fire

my denvercon cockles tag, for everything cockles-related that happened on october 16, 2021, at the first in-person spn con since covid, the destiel confession, and the series finale.

video of misha crashing jensen’s denvercon panel

misha walking out to hug jensen from behind at denvercon | video

discussing how when they hugged, misha was surprised by jensen’s muscles and jensen was surprised by misha’s softness; “like an angel plushie”

the way jensen turns, leans back, and spreads his legs at denvercon | another angle

unicorn laugh at denvercon

leaving together at denvercon

jensen... had his car sent to misha’s house in washington?  

video of jensen draped over misha’s shoulder, discussing fanart they’d seen at the con and how they’d each defaced it. “you drew the black penis?” | gifs  

everything cockles that happened at nov 6-7 ‘21 charcon: “whatever you say, mish” and “i live it”  

“okay, babe.”

the “possessive” photo ops from nolacon ‘21 

the tender and loving way they hugged for photo ops in 2021 

sunrise photo shoot from dallascon ‘22

misha and jensen discussing how they’ve given up saying no to photo op requests

misha stating that jensen’s song ‘watching over me’ is about destiel 

everything from the njcon ‘22 cockles panel | complete panel video

“This guy is always partially-obstructing my view of sunsets” 2019 tweet 

misha telling the story (again) of how jensen made him break with kissy faces | talking about the face/doing the face jib2 & jib6 | imitating the kissy face | more imitating the face | jensen talking about the kissy face | it’s jensen’s favorite ‘prank’

cw upfronts misha Gazing at jensen photo | edit

jibcon12 misha/jensen panel transition hug | video | more gifs | photos | more photos | MORE photos

fighting over whose sunglasses they are | video

jensen: “and you looked AMAZING”

misha posing as audience member to ask, “do you usually at night watch misha collins videos with your wife?“ | jensen discussing the lazarus rising watch party: “had like a three-way... video conference”

@theyarebothgunshot‘s “and they were roommates” timeline of cockles cohabitation

the ew photoshoot of champagne + cheek kiss fame | outtake photos  

misha’s detour at ‘22 denvercon to hug jared and jensen | more gifs | mooore gifs | photos | video 

jenmisheel tag 

"[danneel] does refer to misha as her boyfriend. which is funny, because so do i." | video |

jensen serenading misha with "angeles" | video

the destiel song they improvised together | video |

2009 highlights

2010 highlights pt 1

2010 highlights pt 2

2010 highlights pt 3

2011 highlights pt 1

2011 highlights pt 2

2015 highlights

2016 highlights

2019 highlights

2021 highlights  

2022 highlights

the i n t i m a c y:

misha tenderly caressing jensen’s back (jibcon) | more

misha tenderly caressing jensen’s back (phxcon) | another angle | hd photos | yet another angle

jensen wrapping his arm around misha’s waist | followed by an ass slap | sharper gifs: x, x

hands on thighs

the neck kiss

whispering compilation

more whispering

jensen shoving misha face away | alternate angle  

hug + cheek kiss (ew photoshoot) (photo)

head boops

kisses compilation

jensen dropping his head to misha’s shoulder

slow dancing

touching compilation

beginning/ending of panel

heads on shoulders | video of jensen laying his head on misha’s shoulder  

the way they shake hands | bonus | a breakdown of a handshake

face stroking

more face stroking

comfortingly rubbing each other’s backs

a hug photo

the sdcc hug/head lean (gifs)

patting jensen’s head | more gifs

undercover hand lovemaking | another angle 🐚

jensen’s hand sliding down misha’s arm

eyes closed hugs

His. Hand. Was. Determined. To. Stay. On. That. Leg.  

excessive hand touching

how they hug

hugging/rubbing each other’s shoulders

hug compilation

jensen's hand sliding down misha's back  🐚

and lastly... please, nobody tweet this at misha (or any other cast member), but misha, if you do see this... please don’t tweet it either. thank you.

[the-insomniac-emporium]

thoughts on Bela///Donna?

What a lovely can of worms you've placed in my inbox, dear nonnie. I cannot wait to open it and lose followers (regardless of what I actually say).

Since this is, uh, a subject of some debate among RE8 fans, I will be inputting my thoughts on the idea of the ship (and the possible controversy), as opposed to doing HCs or something for it (which I recognize might be what you were asking for, despite the excessive /s).

This is all based on my playthroughs of the game, as well as what I've managed to double check on the fandom/wiki for it. I know that a lot of people who read fanfic for the game haven't actually played it, likely having been lured in by Tall Vampire Milf, and so I hope that some people will be open to a reminder of, like, canon vs fanon? I've mentioned in a previous post that there's a lot of details for RE8 that are not made clear, and I feel the need to reiterate that in this post. Capcom left a lot of stuff up to people's imaginations, or kind of just hinted at in game or in concept art.

But more importantly, regardless of what game we're talking about, regardless of the conclusion I come to (and the one you come to) at the end of this post, I want to say that I absolutely understand the need/desire to have your own perspective/take on the characters from the game, as well as their dynamics. If a ship makes you uncomfortable because you see the characters as being family members, it's totally okay. Block the ship tag, or filter it out when you look through fandom stuff, don't follow people who post for it, etc, etc.

If you think of characters as being family-family (like, not just "we got married and are now a family" but, like, "we're siblings/parent and child") and still ship them? uh. sorry, bruv, maybe think of hitting that unfollow button. No, seriously, hit that unfollow button. This blog is anti-incest, thank you very much.

The last thing I'll say before putting it under a read-more (for both length and major RE8 spoilers) is that I recognize that I might have missed something, either in game or developers talking about things on social media, and so if you read through this and go "god, J, you're such a dumbass for forgetting *critical piece of media*" or even just "okay but have you seen *small but meaningful piece of media*?" please. Just. Please. Tell me. Link me to that shit. I WANT to know if I'm wrong. I've literally avoided talking about this for as long as I could in order to TRY and make sure I have all the context I need.

With that said, let's examine what context we are given for Alcina Dimitrescu, Bela Dimitrescu, Donna Beneviento, and their relations to each other. I will be leaving my personal thoughts on Bela///Donna at the very end of this, as somewhat of a conclusion, somewhat of just a "hey, this is what you technically asked me about".

Firstly, let me begin by explaining what I consider to be the 3 tiers of "canon"

In-Game/Direct: The highest, truest tier, the definitive canon. This is everything that takes place in game, excluding certain hallucination scenes (ex: Mia was not really in House Beneviento, but we can infer some things from what Donna made Ethan hallucinate about). Things either happen, or are directly stated by characters. There's some wiggle room for dialogue, as characters can lie, but overall we, as the audience, assume we are being told the truth. At the very least, games usually eventually make it clear when a character has been dishonest. Examples of Direct Canon include the following: Ethan is infected with the mold, Lady Dimitrescu drinks blood, Heisenberg wears sunglasses, Mother Miranda can shapeshift.

Concept Art/Developer's Notes/Indirect: Mid-tier and debatable, the "we think, but we're not sure" of canon. Resident Evil: Village contains lots of concept art that the players can browse through, all of which include notes from the developers about the game, characters, environments, and story. Sometimes the notes make something "direct", but oftentimes they do not specify whether the listed idea is still canon or if it was removed during development. This tier also includes information that is implied/can be inferred from tier 1 information, but is not directly stated. Examples of Indirect Canon include the following: Donna's mother died by suicide, Moreau was going to have his lover fused to his back, Duke was originally a fifth lord, Heisenberg was going to have a twin. As you can see, not all of the concept art ideas made it into the final version of the game, so it can be hard when some information seems like it might still be true (such as the matter of Donna's parents).

Fanon/"False": Sometimes collective ideas in a fandom become so widespread that people start interpreting them as actual canon. Sometimes it gets hard to remember what's just obscure lore and what's fanon. When we get a piece of fiction as overall vague as a lot of Resident Evil: Village is, there's bound to be some confusion over time. That's one of the main reasons I waited to talk about Bela////Donna until after I had recently replayed relevant sections of the game, as I wanted to remind myself of what we're actually told. Examples of False Canon are difficult to pinpoint, but might include things like: Hufflepuffs are good at finding things? The Avengers got along for awhile and all had their own rooms in the tower? There's a number scale for the danger level of ghosts in Danny Phantom?

For this post, I will be limiting the majority of my notes to the first two levels of canon, and will do my best to mark them as such. Now... let us... begin.

Alcina Dimitrescu:

Born no later than 1914, Alcina Dimitrescu was 44 years old when she was granted the Cadou by Mother Miranda. (1st Tier: Canon. Source: A note in the castle basement from a servant is dated 1958, and mentions both Alcina and her children. Secondly, Miranda's experiment notes state that Alcina was the 181st subject, and was given the Cadou at age 44. By doing math, we can then determine the earliest Alcina could have been born.)

Alcina refers to the other Lords as her family once without any disdain (when Ethan first arrives at the castle and is caught, Alcina says "you've escaped my little brother"). In a private journal (located near where she threw the infamous vanity) she insults the other Lords, and expresses anger that she is "treated like a sister to them". She argues with Heisenberg without any hesitation, and seems honest in her hatred of him (per Maggie Robertson's wunderbar performance). (1st Tier/2nd Tier: Canon with a sprinkle of interpretation for the last line)

Alcina openly refers to Bela, Cassandra, and Daniela as her daughters, and wrote in her experiment journal that she felt instantly connected to them (as mother and daughters). (1st Tier: Canon).

Bela Dimitrescu:

Likely born in the 1930's or 1940's, in order to be an adult by 1958 (the first dated appearance of the Dimitrescu daughters). (2nd Tier: Based on inference)

Dialogue shows that all three of the daughters do love their mother, and reinforces the bond Alcina's journal mentions. (1st Tier: Canon)

We are not given any information about how Bela feels about the other Lords, or even what she knows about them. Once can assume that she shares the ideas of her mother, either because Alcina tells her things directly, or because Bela (who is eager to please her mother) picks up on them over time. (2nd Tier: Based on inference)

Donna Beneviento:

No idea when she was born. If you've read one of my recent posts, then you know that it's almost entirely a matter of 2nd and 3rd tier canon.

Of the four lords, Donna seems to have the most story within the 2nd tier, and has very, very little in the 1st tier. Duke says she's somewhat isolated, and that her "playmates" never leave the house. Miranda's notes state that Donna is mentally ill, and the gardener's diary states/implies (bit of both) that Donna has severe social anxiety. (1st/2nd Tier: Mostly canon)

Supposedly, her parents committed suicide while she was still a child. This is indicated in concept art/the attached developer's notes. However, the only part that's also directly stated in game is that her parents (specifically her father) died while she was young. (1st/2nd Tier: Mostly canon)

While Donna only has one voice line in the game (and it's sad), Angie talks a fair bit. Angie seems to disapprove of the other Lords, or at the very least enjoys mocking them, as well as enjoys watching them fight with each other. As Angie is connected to Donna, and Donna has some level of control over her, one can assume that the two have similar (if not the same) opinions. (1st/2nd Tier: Mostly Canon)

Donna was adopted by Mother Miranda as an adult. It's unclear exactly how old Donna was, or what exactly Miranda did as her "mother", just that Donna was excited about it. (1st Tier: Canon)

Other Relevant Information:

Heisenberg refers to the other Lords as his siblings a minimum of 1 time. Similarly to Alcina, however, he openly insults them and seems to hate them. He just, you know, hates Mother Miranda the most. (1st Tier: Canon)

Mother Miranda does not actually give a shit about the four Lords, intended for them to die before the ceremony, and has been manipulating them for her own gain this entire time. Her notes and dialogue make it clear that she only cares about getting Eva back. Somehow mother of the year and worst mother ever. At the same time. (1st/2nd Tier: Mostly Canon)

It's unclear who treats Alcina "like a sister" to the other Lords. Were there cut lines of dialogue that cemented the idea of them being a "family"? Did Miranda call them a "family" as part of pretending she cared about them? I've done my best to dig around, but there's very little in game that treats them as a family of any sort.

As each Lord ruled their own section of the region, they don't have any mentions of interacting with each other outside of meetings with Mother Miranda. None of the notes for any Lord (and their relevant experiments) mention what the others are doing. In game, their environments are very separate, very well divided, though this is likely as much for gameplay as it is for story.

Conclusion:

I do not not believe there is enough in game evidence to suggest that Alcina and Donna consider themselves to be siblings. There's the possibility for a large age gap, Alcina was a fair bit older than Donna when she met Miranda, Donna is a social recluse whose closest bonds were with dead blood relatives and dolls, Alcina openly dislikes (if not hates) the other Lords, they seemingly lived very separate and distanced lives, and Mother Miranda does not enforce the idea of "family". Furthermore, the sheer contrast between how Alcina interacts with/speaks of the other Lords compared to how she interacts with/speaks of her daughters says a lot about her feelings. Even if Heisenberg takes the brunt of her anger, Alcina never once says anything remotely positive about anyone other than Miranda and her daughters.

As Alcina/Bela and Donna are not blood-relatives, the definition of what would count as "incest" does vary depending on who you ask. Personally, I do count non-blood relations as potentially incestuous. For example: Alcina "dating" one of her daughters would be incest, regardless of the fact that she's a mutated human and her daughters are weird swarms of flies.

Now, I do understand how popular the idea of the four Lords being a real, chaotic but still close family is. And as I mentioned above, it's totally valid to not like the Bela///Donna ship, whether it's because you think they're family or some other reason. I don't personally see them that way, even in my definitely-not-canon stories.

Do I personally ship Bela///Donna? Nope. Have I liked art for the ship? Admittedly yes, even if I thought some of it was, like, maiden x Bela because Donna didn't have her veil and I'm a DUMBASS who doesn't always remember to read tags. Would I ever write for it? Yeah, probably, assuming I didn't miss anything in game/that I don't eventually change my mind.

[tuanhood]

alpha

pairing: frat!im jaebeom x reader 

genre: lil bit of everything. lil smut, lil angst, maybe lots of fluff, established relationship

warnings: language, cringey frat stuff, public(??) fingering

word count: 4,200+

summary: your boyfriend’s frat doesn’t allow dating outside of greek life. hence the reason you two have had to sneak around for ten months... and hence the reason you’ve somehow found yourself stuck and hiding in a closet. 

a/n: wow long time no see! sorry for the delay, I’m really busy/stressing about dissertation stuff lately so updates and writings aren’t going to be frequent. but I really wanted to write this for ya’ll real quick to have SOMETHING, but yeah it’s not edited and NOT very good bc of the quickness. But I hope ya’ll will forgive me :) 

lambda | delta | gamma | kappa | theta | sigma

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

When you woke up this morning, you really didn’t think you would end up in a closet at the Alpha Sigma Phi house.

The space is cramped, dark and a little smelly. Judging by the odor, you guessed that this was the closet that the boys in the house used to throw garbage in whenever they had to “clean” the house. Maybe this situation would have been a little bit better if you had been pushed into the closet that’s on the second floor – that way there would be less garbage and less boy smell. But who were you kidding? There would be a boy smell regardless.

In theory though you really shouldn’t be stuck in a closet at a frat house thinking about which closet you’d rather be in. What had your life become lately?

“Just a little bit longer, okay?” You heard Jaebeom utter through the door. It instinctively made you roll your eyes. The tone of his voice was so nonchalant, as if you weren’t stuck in a small space. But of course, he was on the other side of the door in fresh air, with as much space to roam around as he pleased – he didn’t understand “just a little bit longer” was triggering.

As much as you lo- liked Jaebeom… you weren’t sure if you would be able to hide in small spaces for the entirety of your relationship.

Babe it’s not for our entire relationship… Just until we graduate.

When he had first said that you didn’t really think about the bigger picture. All you had thought about was how happy he made you and how much you loved being with him. And that was the most important thing to you. But lately the sneaking around and the hiding had been a little too much for you – you weren’t sure if you could keep it up for another year… It had already been 10 months and you were at your wits end. Every time you wanted to sit down to have the conversation with Jaebeom – the one where you tell him it’s either the end of hiding or the end of your relationship – he’d give you those eyes, that smile and it would be completely wiped from your thoughts.

Damn Im Jaebeom. You think you fucking love him.

“Jae…” you grumbled, hitting your head against the door a bit. It had already been what… a half hour?

You heard him shush you and another voice emerged from the other side of the door. “Hey man, any particular reason you’ve been standing here?” Jaebeom’s nervous laughter is a giveaway, you just hope that Yugyeom doesn’t pick up on it. “No reason… just… like the space over here… It’s good party watching space.”

There’s silence and you pressed your ear up to the door further, hoping to hear something. You jumped back when you heard your boyfriend’s panicked voice, “what are you doing?”

Yugyeom snorted, “Dude chill… I’m just getting more cups from the closet.”

“Uh… Let me! I’ll get them!”

“What?”

“Yeah no worries dude, I didn’t really do anything to help prep for the party so I might as well get some fucking cups from the closet,” Jaebeom chuckled, his voice shifting to a more normal tone, “to be honest I didn’t really even know this was happening tonight… otherwise…” He drifted off, mumbling the last part to himself. You know he’s referencing the fact that the two of you thought the house would be empty – many of the guys typically going out to a local bar on Thursdays, but to your surprise as you crossed the main foyer in the house, the front door opened with most of the guys in the frat piling through. That led to your push into the closet.

“Yeah well… Red Room was closed because apparently they have a rat problem. I feel like that’s a bunch of bullshit. I mean we go there every week… we would have noticed if there was a rat problem.”

“Maybe they were just good at hiding it.”

There’s a lull in silence and Yugyeom clicked his tongue, as if he thinking deeply about something, “but I guess you wouldn’t know… You really don’t go out with us on Thursdays anymore…” As much as you liked the guys in Jaebeom’s frat – from stories you’d heard through your boyfriend of course – it seemed like they were often pretty slow when it came to certain things. If Yugyeom was starting to get skeptical and began piecing things together then surely the rest of the guys would too.

“Let me get you guys those cups.”

Taking a small step back, you turn to the shelf on your right, finding the red cups almost immediately through the dimmed closet. As the door cracks open slightly, your boyfriend’s long arm appears in the small space, gesturing around – clearly looking for the cups.

“Dude what are you doing?” Yugyeom asked.

“I know where the cups are so why should I go in all the way and get claustrophobic?” You have to cover your mouth to stop yourself from laughing at Jaebeom’s fake explanation.

Yes, because why would anyone ever want to be stuck inside of a closet? Rolling your eyes – happy he can’t see – you thrust the cups forward into his wandering hand. You swear you hear him grunt at your force.

The cups and his hand disappeared along with the small sliver of light that comes from the door being open. “Well… here you go… the cups you wanted.” There’s another pause and you wished you could see what was going on – to know if Yugyeom was buying how uncharacteristically strange Jaebeom was being or if he was still suspicious.

“You should leave your creepy party watching spot and actually join the fun, ya know? Some of the girls from Theta are going to be by soon and I know Amanda’s been asking a lot about you lately.”

Yugyeom’s mention of another girl makes your skin crawl and you’re almost ready to pounce out of the closet and call it a day, but instead you clenched your fists and waited to hear your boyfriend’s response.

“Nah man… I’m good.”

“Come on… how long has it been since you last had any action? I’m pretty sure Amanda would be down to hook up tonight.” Instinctively you felt your hand go to the doorknob, gripping it tightly.

To your dismay Jaebeom says nothing in response and your mind starts running wild thinking about possible nonverbal responses he could have communicated to Yugyeom – perhaps one of them being “yeah I’ll totally bang Amanda tonight.”

And you know what… maybe he should. Maybe it’d be better for him to be with someone he can actually walk around campus with. To be with someone he could actually introduce to his friends. You weren’t any of those things.

The circumstances of your relationship with Jaebeom had been complicated from the beginning. The two of you had met in a random general ed class you were both forced to take for a stupid credit. Never in your life did you think you were going to meet your next boyfriend in “Comparative Post-Communist Politics.” The two of you had the lowest scores in the class and found yourselves bonding over your almost failing midterm grades, but luckily the two of you had passed the course. Thank god for the grading curve.

It had started just that simply – two people who were “class friends.” Nothing more, nothing less. You’d sit next to each other every lecture and laugh over how dumb you both were, but never made efforts to hang out after class or even study together in preparation for exams. It wasn’t until the final day of class that Jaebeom had asked you to get drinks. His request shocked you as you had figured that just like most “class friends” you two would part ways and never see each other again except for the occasional pass by on campus where each of you would squint and wonder how do I know that person? Were they in that one class I took that one time?

You were perhaps even more shocked when you agreed to go.

From then on, the two of you talked about things besides class and got to know each other on a more personal level. You had already known some very basic things about him – such as his affiliation with the Greek system – but soon enough Jaebeom was pouring his heart out to you, and you to him. Both of you admitted that you had never felt this comfortable with someone before.

It was probably you fifth- or sixth-time getting drinks at a secluded place downtown when Jaebeom revealed to you how much he liked you. You felt your heart leap out of your chest and just as you were about to reveal your own confession, he hit you with a “but…”

“but… I can’t technically date you. My frat’s chapter is really strict about dating outside of Greek life. When I was a pledge, they told me that they’ve kicked guys out for going out with girls who aren’t affiliated.”

In any other situation you would have gotten up and said “no thank you” to whoever the guy was, not wanting to waste your time on anything or anyone who prioritized some stupid brotherhood over their feelings for you. But this was Jaebeom… The Jaebeom that you had grown close to over such a short period of time and had told you how much Alpha Sigma Phi meant to him. He had grown up an only child and spent much of his younger years feeling lonely, which was what made him want to rush the frat. He wanted the close experience and to have strong loyalty and ties with the other members – just like with real brothers.

“We can make it work. I really like you too Jaebeom… I’m willing to try this and figure something out…”

At the time… you weren’t sure what “figure something out” really meant – especially since you weren’t supposed to be seen together by literally anyone. Most people on campus knew someone who knew someone that was in Alpha Sig and if anyone saw the two of you together, you’d risk it getting back to the guys at the house. Which was why for 10 months the two of you had been dating in secret – him coming over to yours almost every night and you sneaking over to the house every Thursday when the guys were usually gone until the early hours.

You felt like you were fighting back tears at the thought of Jaebeom with someone else, but maybe it was what was right. You deserved to not be a secret forever – you were in a closet for godssake – and Jaebeom deserved to be with the perfect sorority girl that he could take wherever he wanted without the risk of getting kicked out of his second home. Tightly shutting your eyes, you attempted to stop yourself from crying, but somehow it makes it worse with the first drop rolling down your cheek slowly.

“Baby? Are you crying?”

It’s then that you realized the door had been cracked open once again, Jaebeom looking behind him before slipping in with you, shutting the door tightly. It occurred to you how pathetic you must look, crying in a dim, cramped closet at a frat house.

Quickly, you tried to wipe the tears of your cheek and hiccupped slightly, “N-no I’m not crying. It’s just my allergies with all the dust in here.”

“You don’t have allergies…” He positioned himself closer to you, bringing his own hand up to your face to rest it on your cheek, feeling the wet trails your tears had left behind, “what’s wrong?” Biting your lip, you don’t say anything in the hopes that he’ll drop the subject. Jaebeom knows you well enough to know when you want to move on and not address a topic, but this time he can’t find it in himself to just let it go.

“Y/N tell me.”

The way his thumb continued to gently caress your cheek back in forth, makes you want to close your eyes and pretend you’re anywhere else besides here in this closet having this conversation. You’d rather be with your boyfriend in a place far away from here where you don’t have to hide and you don’t have to worry about perceptions.

“I was just thinking about what Yugyeom said about the girl from Theta.”

“Baby… I would never go behind your back and do something with her-”

You sighed deeply and felt your stomach drop as you kept wedging your way further and further into the conversation you had once been wanting to have. Not seeing his sparkling eyes and that look in bright light made the words somewhat easier to get out. “I know you would never do that… I just think sometimes maybe it’s best if you had someone you could actually be seen with.”

Jaebeom doesn’t say anything, because it’s at that moment he feels his own stomach churn and feel sick. Making out your saddened face in the dark closet and listening to your words he realizes what he’s done. The way you had said “if you had someone you could actually be seen with” as if there was something wrong with you. As if you were less then. He wanted to kick himself for making you feel like that when it was in fact his fault and his own issues that stopped the two of you from being together publicly. Was brotherhood really so important to him when he was at risk of losing the person he loves?

Loves.

Reality hit him again.

“No,” Jaebeom finally said shaking his head, “I don’t want anyone else. I only want you and I’m sorry for making you feel like this. You’ve been so willing to hide this just because I’m a fucking idiot… because you understand how much this all meant to me.”

“Meant?”

He delicately brings his hands to rest at your waist, leaning close enough forward until you can feel his breath on your face, “I have something in my life that’s more important than getting kicked out of a stupid frat. I-I love you Y/N.”

You don’t answer him for a moment and he feels like he’s going to collapse at first from your lack of response. He wonders if maybe he had read the last 10-months completely wrong or if you had finally had enough with his bullshit and he was just too late. Jaebeom feels all of these worries and doubts fade away when you lean forward to press your lips against his. “I love you too,” you mumbled against his lips and you felt your boyfriend smile, his grip tightening on your waist and bringing you even closer to his body until you’re flush against one another.

You felt one of his hands drift down from your waist to the hem of your skirt, slowly caressing your thigh and slipping itself underneath the material until it’s hitched up above his hand. Removing yourself from his lips, you let out a lustful sigh to let him know how much you want him to do what he’s thinking about doing. As he rests his forehead against yours, he looks down between your two bodies, his hand going to your panties, gently playing with the waistband – snapping it back and forth gently to tease you.

“Do you want me to take back that I love you?” You asked playfully.

Jaebeom laughed, “you wouldn’t dare.”

Just as you’re about to respond with a bratty “try me,” you feel him dip his hand underneath the now damp material. He smiled at your caught off guard reaction. His fingers brushed your core, his index finger moving along your slit as he gathered your juices on his finger before he brought it to his lips and sucked them gently. You watched him in the dim light and felt yourself somehow grow more wet than before. He moved his fingers back down, his thumb pressing up against your clit and you felt yourself suck in a breath at the feeling, before two of his digits pushed into your completely. With the small amount of space, you had, you lifted your hips in an effort to get more of him inside of you and he chuckled at the action.

“We have all night baby girl, don’t worry. I take care of you, always.”

You exhaled at the feeling of his thumb massaging your clit and his fingers began to pump into you at a slow rhythmic pace. He watched you for a moment wondering how he got so lucky before returning his lips back to yours.

A groan arose in your throat and against Jaebeom’s lips as he curled his middle finger into you, hitting that spot that always made you so weak and you feel your thighs begin to twitch as you near your high. Sometimes it amazed you how quick he could make you reach your release, but he already knew everything else about you so well it shouldn’t come as a surprise that he would excel at this as well.

When he picked up the pace of his fingers fucking into you, continuing to hit your g-spot each time, you felt yourself quickly come apart and your walls clench around his fingers tightly. You dropped your head down to his shoulder and felt like there wasn’t any breath left in your body as you rode out the waves of your orgasm, Jaebeom making sure not to overstimulate you and slowing his fingers down. When he finally removes his hand from you, you feel so empty almost like your body just wants to be that close to him all the time – not even in a sexual way.

When you finally feel strong enough, you bring your head off of Jaebeom’s shoulder and wrap your hands around his neck tightly, bringing him in for another kiss.

“I love you.”

“I love you too. I never want to stop saying it and I never want to stop hearing it.”

With arms still around his neck, you gently play with the hair at his nape. You feel happier than you’ve felt in a long time – which was saying something considering how happy your boyfriend had made you the past 10 months.

“Should we get out of this closet?” Jaebeom asked with shut eyes, feeling relaxed every time he’s under your touch.

“Now? You want everyone to see us now?”

He shrugged, “They’re going to find out either way so might as well just do it now. I just hope they give me time to get my stuff before they kick me out.” You feel yourself frown at his candor and the thought of Jaebeom losing the sense of belonging he had gained from being in Alpha Sig, but you remember his previous assurances. You had one another and everything was going to be fine.

Just as you’re about to respond to him, you’re interrupted by a sudden emergence of light into the closet signaling the opening of the door. You and Jaebeom both freeze when you see Yugyeom and some of the other brothers behind him.

“Can you two just come out already?”

It’s almost as though both you and your boyfriend had forgotten all of your words. Instead you stare at one another with wide eyes.

“We’re tired of all this waiting. Just come out and introduce us to your girlfriend already man,” Yugyeom whined.

This was embarrassing. Had they been… listening?

“Listen ‘Gyeom I know you chose today’s date in the pool, but that doesn’t mean you win the bet,” one of the guys from behind him said.

Yugyeom lets out a large groan and turns to the member, “what? Why not? I chose today and he was going to do it today! I swear!”

“Yeah but you ruined it by opening the door! You pretty much made the whole thing void… Haven’t you heard of like… not ruining the controlled variable in the experiment or whatever the fuck?”

“The controlled variable was the door? That doesn’t make sense. You’re as dumb as a bag of bones dude,” Yugyeom snorted, turning back to you and Jaebeom. It’s then that you feel relief as Jaebeom finally cleared his throat to say something to the many pairs of eyes fixated on you both, “can you guys please explain to me what’s going on here?”

Yugyeom rolled his eyes at Jaebeom as if it was the most obvious thing in the world to understand, “we had a bet going for when you would finally tell us about your secret girlfriend… Who to be honest isn’t really a secret. I sit next to Y/N’s friend in Econ… class friends ya know.”

You felt your mouth go dry. If they knew about Jaebeom dating an unaffiliated girl this entire time why did they let it play out for so long? Why didn’t they say something to him and make him break up with you or kick him out of the frat? Were they trying to torture the two of you for the longest amount of time possible?

It’s then when you really take in each member of Alpha Sig’s face and you see no malice or disgust at the fact that you’re not a non-affiliate. They almost seemed… happy.

You felt Jaebeom take his head into yours and he sighs once more before looking back to the guys, “listen… Y/N is my girlfriend and has been for the last 10 months… I’ve put her through so much shit and made her sneak around which she did willingly because of how amazing she is. I’ve never felt so loved and cared for by someone before and I can’t put her through more shit that’s going to make her feel less then she is. I love her and I’m sorry you guys can’t accept that. I can be out of here by tomorrow.”

As Jaebeom goes to move the two of you out of the closet, Yugyeom places his hand up causing you both to stop in your tracks.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

Jaebeom looks to you and then back to Yugyeom, “the rule… that we’re not allowed to date anyone who’s not affiliated. When we were pledges they told us they’ve kicked guys out for breaking the rule… remember?”

The boys in front of Jaebeom all look at him blankly until Yugyeom begins to laugh, the rest of the guys following him until you have approximately 6 frat guys laughing in your faces. Looking at your boyfriend his eyebrows are furrowed. You can’t tell if he’s confused at their reaction or annoyed.

It takes a moment for Yugyeom and the boys to finally stop laughing, “Jae… are you joking? Is that why you haven’t introduced her to us? Because of that stupid rule?”

“Yeah…”

Coming closer, Yugyeom placed his hand on Jaebeom’s shoulder, “Dude… that rule is not real. They’ve never kicked anyone out over dating someone who’s unaffiliated. Sure, the upperclassmen then didn’t want us to date someone not in an org, but they would have never made us leave… That kinda goes against the whole brotherhood thing. Besides, now we’re the upperclassmen and we just care that we’re all happy. You included.”

You felt like you could run a marathon at the amount of energy and feelings coursing through your body. You wanted to hug all of the semi-strangers in front of you, but also you wanted to hit Jaebeom for thinking that rule was a real thing when it was in fact… apparently not. In the back of your head, you make a mental note to lecture him on next time it never hurts to ask questions before you get into a secret 10-month relationship that might not need to be a secret.

“Thanks guys,” Jaebeom smiled at his brothers, with his hand still holding onto yours, caressing your smooth skin with his thumb.

“Now let’s continue this party, shall we?” Yugyeom yelled loudly as the rest of the guys cheer back in response, most of them heading back to the main living space until it’s just you, Jaebeom and Yugyeom.

The younger boy shakes his head, “I still can’t believe you were in that closet the entire time… which reminds me. I am never going in there again after the actions that occurred in there,” you felt your face grow hot at his admittance that he had heard or at least knew what had happened in the closest just moments before his grand entrance.

“I still can’t believe you knew the entire time and didn’t say anything!” You whined.

“I was expecting you to jump out as soon as I mentioned Amanda… That’s why I brought it up. Which by the way man,” Yugyeom turned to Jaebeom, “none of the girls at Theta give a shit about you.”

“That’s totally okay. There’s only one girl I want to give a shit about me,” Jaebeom smiled proudly placing his arm around you in front of Yugyeom and everyone else at the party. He relishes in how comfortable it feels to finally be like this with you in front of some of the most important people in his life. Besides you of course.

You hummed in delight and nuzzled your head against his arm, into his shoulder, “She doesn’t just give a shit about you. She kind of loves you too.”

“Just kind of?”

“Nah with her full heart.”

[likelightningafterthethunder]

Like Lightning After the Thunder: Chapter Two: Reprieve

Fic Summary:

His breath wavered as he stared into Katsuki’s eyes. He knew he could get out if he tried. He could knock Katsuki out, hope that no one else would find them, and run back into the shadows where he belonged. Katsuki may have had him pinned down but he was in Denki’s range now and it would take little effort to send a charge through Katsuki to paralyze him temporarily.

It would take barely any additional effort to kill Katsuki.

As the sparks began to charge, lighting up the air around him, Katsuki refused to back down.

–

Katsuki always knew he was destined for great things.

He didn’t think he’d have to turn his back on all he’s ever known to get there.

Rating: T

Warnings: Eventual major character death, implied/referenced child abuse, psychological trauma

Other Tags: Bakugou Katsuki/Kaminari Denki, slow burn, alternate universe - canon divergence

Read on Ao3 (links to corresponding chapter) or read below

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–

Katsuki wasn’t surprised to see one of his former classmates’ face on the news report with the tagline “found dead after hero-villain fight.” 

The reporter gave a rundown of the fight that had happened a few days earlier on the other side of the city, between a small gang of villains and Ochako. The villains themselves weren’t very high ranking― potential to be B-rank if they were more organized as a group, but C-rank individually― but they had managed to cause a decent amount of damage before Ochako had arrived on the scene. The news replayed the footage taken live from the battle, showing Ochako using her quirk on larger pieces of rumble to assist the lower ranked heroes in the area with evacuation as she charged forward towards the villain group herself. 

The footage wasn’t ideal. It was grainy from trying to capture the scene just outside of the limits of its scope and if it weren’t for the pink of Ochako’s hero costume, Katsuki was certain the camera person would not have been able to keep the camera centered on her. The footage continued until Ochako grabbed one of the villains, freezing seconds after the villain began to float. A red circle appeared around the villain’s face along with a mugshot before cutting back to the reporter.

In the aftermath of the fight, that one villain was never found. 

Ochako had been frantic when they had met up after, her gaze thousands of miles in the distance every time Katsuki looked. She denied anything being on her mind despite it being so blatantly obvious that something was, but Katsuki chose not to question it. After all, if she had wanted to talk about it, she wouldn’t have asked to meet him.

The report continued to explain the search procedures that had taken place over the past few days before describing a call on the tip hotline that ultimately resulted in the discovery of the villain’s body. While they didn’t show a photo of the body, Katsuki couldn’t help but wonder just how bad it was for the report to completely skip over the cause of death.

In the end, Katsuki supposed it didn’t matter what caused the villain’s death. Ochako was certain to end up finding a way to blame herself, for not paying better attention during the fight, for not trying hard enough to find the villain after, for being the last person who saw the villain alive. 

Even if she didn’t, there were parts of society that would make sure she would never forget.

Cheeky: can you meet up with me today?

Katsuki: Takeshi’s?

Cheeky: yeah

Cheeky: drinks/dinner on me after if you want

Katsuki: I’ll be there at five. Don’t be late.

Cheeky: got it!

Cheeky: hey wait why are YOU telling ME not to be late when I’M the one who asked YOU to meet me

Katsuki: You know why.

Cheeky: it was ONE TIME KATSUKI ONE TIME

Katsuki was at Takeshi’s gym a quarter before five, reserving their usual space and changing into workout attire before sending Ochako a text to let her know he was already inside. He started his stretches, looking up only when he saw a pair of pink sneakers approach the ring.

“You’re late,” Katsuki said, continuing his stretches. 

“By five minutes!” Ochako dumped her water and towel on the bench next to Katsuki’s, quickly joining him in the stretches. “I was outside before five, waiting for you!”

“I sent you a text saying I was inside.”

“Yeah, like two minutes before five!” She huffed. “I was totally on time.”

“Whatever. Hurry the fuck up.”

They continued preparing in silence, speaking again only to confirm that the other was ready to start. This time, only a couple of the guests flinched when Katsuki charged forward at Ochako yelling out “die!”

After the fifth time a hit landed that Ochako would have normally been able to block with ease, Katsuki stood down. Her form had been lacking for the better part of the past hour, and there were a few times that her blows hadn’t hit with the full force Katsuki was familiar with. She didn’t even react to Katsuki’s change in form until Katsuki had walked over to the bench for his water.

“Wh― hey! What gives?” She frowned but joined him for a water break when he didn’t return to the ring right away.

“Don’t insult me,” Katsuki rolled his eyes at the shock on her face, “You’re distracted. What kind of fucking spar is worth the time when your opponent isn’t giving their all?”

“I’m focused on the spar! I’m totally and completely here! I wasn’t insulting you but I am now, you’re just saying that because of your enormous ego,” 

Katsuki paused, looking at her directly in her eyes. She didn’t flinch.

But the longer he held his gaze, the more Katsuki could tell that she was holding back.

“First,” He began, “Don’t be cheeky with me―”

“Well maybe I wouldn’t be so cheeky with you if you didn’t call me cheeky all the time!”

Katsuki held back an amused smile.

“Second,” He continued, “I hit you five different times in ways that you should have been able to block with your eyes closed.”

“Is that supposed to be an insult or a compliment, because what I’m hearing is that you think I could fight you with my eyes closed.”

“Insult. You didn’t fucking block the hits, dumbass.”

Ochako huffed, crossing her arms. “Whatever. I’m going to focus on the compliment part of it.”

“Third, you didn’t even notice I walked away until after I reached the bench.”

“I― I was expecting you to come back! That it was some sort of trick to get me to lower my guard or something!”

“And fourth, you speak faster when you lie.” He let Ochako stammer for a while in response, continuing when her shoulders slumped with a heavy sigh. “You sure this is the break you need? I don’t mind wiping the fucking floor with you if that’s what you want but you better respect my time back and fucking fight me with your all,” He shifted his weight a bit before adding hesitantly, “I can try to listen if you want to talk instead but that’s not really my thing,”

Ochako didn’t answer immediately, instead taking a drink of her water. Katsuki waited as patiently as he could, although he did offer her a glare to try to speed up her thought process. 

She put her water back down and hit her knuckles together, briefly reminding Katsuki of Eijirou. “Okay! One more round. I need to redeem myself before we leave for drinks,”

Katsuki grinned, shoving her lightly with his shoulder as he walked back towards the ring. “Whatever you say, Cheeky. You’re still going to fucking lose.”

“I��ll make you eat your words, Katsuki!”

She did not, but not for lack of trying. Ochako actually paid full attention to the spar after the interruption and while Katsuki still had the upper hand on brute strength, she was nimbler and lighter on her feet. Katsuki was fairly certain that had the shift manager not interrupted to tell them that their time was up that Ochako was only a handful of moves away from finding some “barely legal in a spar between friends but completely legal in a rules free battle against a villain” opening and winning the round. While technically neither of them had won, he did agree—after some teasing and pestering— to counting it as her point in their ongoing scoreboard, adding, “But if you want me to count it as eating my words, you’ll have to fucking try again.”

Ochako seemed to be in a brighter mood when they met up again post-changing in front of Takeshi’s. She bumped shoulders with Katsuki as he approached and began chattering about work and her day as they made their way over to the restaurant they usually ate at after sparring sessions. He didn’t offer much other than the occasional “yeah” and swear when her story necessitated it, but she didn’t seem to mind. She spared him from talking until after they were already seated and ordered their food and drinks. 

“Oh yeah! I heard from Tenya that you finally sent in your response to the reunion! Do you know when you’re heading down to Musutafu yet? We should get on the same train so that the ride isn’t as boring— well, kinda, since you’ll probably not be talking,”

“Shut the fuck up, I can talk when I want to,” Katsuki scowled, rolling his eyes when all it resulted in was a laugh from Ochako. “I haven’t looked at the train schedule yet. The Shitty Four Eyes approved for both the 28th and 29th off though.”

“Nice! Well, when you figure out when you want to head down, let me know and I’ll be your Anti-Explosion Time buddy for the ride down,” 

“Oh fuck off.”

Ochako laughed again. Katsuki hoped this would be the extent of the reunion talk but she continued, “It’ll be great to see the entire class again, don’t you think?”

“You make it sound like we never fucking see anyone. I literally saw you a few fucking days ago and you spend half your weekends with Frog Face or Four Eyes or the fucking Nerd or whoever the fuck,” Katsuki pointed out. “We see basically everyone at the Billboards too,”

“Don’t be such a bore, Katsuki. Reunions are different from the Billboards. We don’t have to deal with those ‘damn extras’ at the reunion,” She put on her best Katsuki impression at “damn extras,” extending her palms outwards and adding a playful “Boom! Pow!” 

“I don’t fucking sound like that.”

“Yes you do. I’m the great Katsuki Bakugou! Die you fucking piece of shit! Boom! Bam! You fucking extra! Bow before the king! Boomboom!”

Katsuki let the faintest hint of a smile slip. “I have never said ‘bow before the king,’”

“Oh come on Katsuki, you tried to name yourself King Explosion Murder, don’t deny it. Even if you’ve never said it, you’ve definitely thought about it.”

He scowled, muttering a “fuck off”, refusing to acknowledge that yes, yes he had thought about saying it once or twice.

“So you admit that I’m right!”

“Fuck off, I said no such fucking thing.”

“You didn’t say ‘no’ either though.”

“I’m demoting you to a fucking extra, you shitty fucking extra.”

Katsuki was given a brief break from any potential cheeky response from Ochako when the server stepped in with their drinks. They raised their glasses, a silent toast to making it another day alive, to making it as far as they had come, to their friendship.

To the silent understanding that there were some struggles that were best left unshared.

He didn’t press further about whatever it was that was stressing her out, even if he had a strong feeling about what caused it. She didn’t comment on the circles under his eyes or how his mind seemed to wander after she brought up certain high school memories. They talked, ignoring their stressors, and for a while, they could pretend everything was fine.

[mr-hammer-exe]

Thoughts on another take. (Part 3)

(Since I have a bit more free time than before, I felt like posting the third installment to this ARG based around the Trapped Souls AU, written by Ask-Red-And-Solomon.) 

 (Also, quick note, this is where things begin to take a turn.)   

(With that, enjoy!)   

***** 

Kicking things off for this part, we have a missing persons report, filed for an employee who worked at Compile. The report was filed on October 22, 1988. The name of the missing individual will not be mentioned, to conceal his identity. 

Name: [Name Withheld] 

Current Status: Missing 

[REDACTED] was part of the crew of Software Developers at a video game company known as Compile. The company has currently been working on the game “Godzilla: Monster Of Monsters!”, which is set to release in December of this year.

[REDACTED] was last seen earlier today, leaving the company grounds after being fired for harassing another employee. The time he was seen leaving was around 12:30 PM, during one of the company’s scheduled lunch breaks for the employees. 

He left the company grounds, but was reported to have never returned home after several hours. When his neighbors were questioned about his disappearance, this fact was confirmed. 

If you have any supposed details as to what could’ve happened to this man, please contact [Number Withheld]. 

Next up, we have a dispatch report, made on October 27, 1988. 

Dispatcher: “911, what’s your emergency?” 

Caller: “Hello? Can you guys hear me okay?” 

Dispatcher: “Yes, we hear you loud and clear, sir. State your emergency.” 

Caller: “My name is Samson [Last name withheld], though I’m usually referred to as Sam. I’m very concerned about my friend, Randy [Last name withheld].”

Dispatcher: “Alright, what seems to be the problem with him?” 

Sam: “He’s been acting very strange recently...” 

Dispatcher: “Okay, sir, please continue.” 

Sam: “He’s been almost constantly distancing himself from me, and all of the other employees at Compile, which is the company he and I work at.” 

Dispatcher: “Compile, you mean that company where an employee went missing just last week?” 

Sam: “Y-Yeah, the one at that location.” 

Dispatcher: “Okay, go on.” 

Sam: “Whenever I try to confront him about it, he just seems to ignore me completely, or ramble incoherently about this...”breakthrough” he was close to achieving.” 

Dispatcher: “Do you have any information as to what he means by “breakthrough”?” 

Sam: “As it turns out, I do. During lunch break, I snuck into his cubicle, and searched through his belongings, where I found some journal entries.” 

Sam: “They revolve around these A.I. experiments he’s been working on since last month, which is when he and I met. Plus, he does have some technical knowledge when it comes to the topic of software development, so I see where he’s getting all this from.” 

Sam: “From what I’ve gathered based on the details, he’s trying to make this certain A.I. named “Red” into an actual living being...?” 

Sam: “I don’t know, I’m just really worried about him, he seems to be going mad.” 

Dispatcher: “Okay sir, would you like us to send a team to investigate?” 

Sam: “Yes, please, that would be greatly appreciated.” 

 Later that evening, the team was sent to investigate Randy’s personal belongings, some of which were provided by Sam. What you are about to read next is the investigation report. 

Officer A: “What is all this? Are these the journal entries we were told about?”

Officer B: “Seems like it.” 

Officer B: “I wonder what he was doing with all this stuff.” 

Officer A: “Well, according to the third journal entry, he wanted to make his A.I. experiments into real, living beings somehow. Freaky” 

Officer B: “And from that call we received, he was mainly obsessed with this A.I. named “Red.”” 

Officer A: “Here, I’ll check his computer, you see if you can find anything else.” 

Officer B: “Hey, I found something! It appears to be a fifth journal entry, though this one was torn out of his notebook.” 

Entry #5: October 22, 1988 - “I’ve figured it out at last. I can’t bring them here on their own, they’ll need a vessel that is native to this realm. That’s it, I need to make sacrifices, for the future of science.” 

Officer B: “...We need to report back to the team and show them this.” 

Officer A: “Agreed.” 

(End of Report)

On November 4, 1988, the body of [REDACTED] was found in an alleyway near where he went missing two weeks earlier. The body was heavily disfigured, though relatively undamaged. Below is an autopsy report of what happened to [REDACTED]. Please note that this may be disturbing for some readers. 

Date of Report: November 4, 1988

Gender of subject: Male  

Height: 6 ft 

Eye Color: Green 

Weight: Approximately 150 lbs 

Cause of death: Undetermined 

Notes: “The body was discovered in an alleyway 2,000 feet away from where the subject was last seen alive, in a heavily disfigured condition to the point where it was almost unrecognizable. The corpse was also covered in random places with mysterious, dark red flesh. It is strongly believed that foul play was to blame in this situation. Though as of now, nobody is able to identify how anything like this could’ve possibly happened. We will give updates to the local law enforcement if any new information is uncovered.” 

(End of Autopsy Report)

That wraps up the third installment to this ARG, I hope you’ve all enjoyed reading it so far. And as I mentioned last time, if you think you have reached any conclusions based on the details given, be sure to let me know. I’d love to hear what your theories are.  

Plus, in case you’re not one of those rare few who have been keeping up with this ARG when it’s been updated, here the links to the previous two parts: 

Part 1 

Part 2

- Hammer, over and out. 

[sshbpodcast]

Tales from the Holodeck: DS9 Fanfic: Chris’s Story

Not only has A Star to Steer Her By wrapped all of Deep Space Nine, but your podcast hosts are also celebrating our fifth anniversary of bringing you through all of Star Trek! As a treat, we’ve concocted DS9-themed fanfic stories and teleplays in our much-celebrated “Tales from the Holodeck” series that you can listen to us cold read here (this one starts at 39:05). Read on for the transcript of Chris’s Weyoun-Ee’char story below, that might pilot a whole new series we’re all asking for!

[images © Paramount/CBS]

“Dude, Where’s My Ee’char?”

By Chris

Random picks: Weyoun, Ee’char

“Tea, earl grey, hot?”

Miles O’Brien instinctively glanced up at those words. Surely not. Sure enough, a lanky Andorian walked up to the counter and accepted the drink that had been called out. Admiral Picard – well, not Admiral, anymore, but even thinking of him as “Jean-Luc” was bizarre to O’Brien – had less than no reason to be hanging around Starfleet Academy. Or Starfleet anything, for that matter.

“Not that I can entirely blame him,” he mused to himself, going back to the PADD containing last week’s warp field dynamics exam. “Nothing’s felt right since Romulus was destroyed. And then Mars…maybe Keiko’s right. Maybe it’s time to retire.”

He sighed and put down his stylus. Twenty years of teaching at Starfleet academy and even he could see how things were shifting. The students grew less and less enthused, dropout rates going up, those that did stay becoming so by-the-book when it came to everything that it was maddening.

“They’re just lacking in imagination,” he’d moaned to Keiko one day. “If I’d thought like them we’d’ve never got the Defiant working like she did. They think the deflector array is just for deflecting things.”

He had immediately realized how ridiculous and old-mannish it had sounded. But even his wife had been on Starfleet ships long enough to get it. Everything on a ship potentially had a purpose no one had ever dreamed of, and dreaming it up in that critical moment could be the difference between getting the ship home and a warp core breach.

“Professor O’Brien?” came a strangely-familiar voice from behind him. He turned and saw what he thought, at first, must have been a Romulan because they were smiling. And there was a sardonic edge to the tone that didn’t seem terribly Vulcan, either. But the fellow had that waxlike pallor that was unique to the latter, something their cousin species had evolved away over their centuries apart.

“Yes. Can I help you?”

“No, but my employer believes he can help you.”

Well, this was shady. Was Section 31 out for belated revenge? Maybe someone had finally slipped in Starfleet Intelligence and the Orion syndicate found out he’d worked undercover against them? Could it be that some T’Lani was still cross about what he and Julian had revealed about their corruption? The grudge could’ve gone further back; someone related to the incident at Setlik III had tracked him down. Christ, for someone who’d only ever been an engineer he’d sure managed to pile up a list of old enemies that could come calling. Ought to at least make him an honorary Commander for that.

“And he would be?”

“An old friend.” The mystery man reached into a pocket and pulled out a small, red figurine. The coonskin cap was unmistakable. “He said this would explain. He remembers the hours you and the good Doctor spent on this.”

So it wasn’t Julian, but someone who knew how they’d passed their time in their DS9 days. Didn’t rule out Section 31, or necessarily a few others, but it did make him feel a little better. He realized the man was still holding out the figure to him, so he reached out and took it, putting it in the bag he’d been carrying his PADD and some miscellany in.

“My employer understands that you’re too cautious a man to just meet somewhere.” The man’s voice – what was it that was so familiar? – had dropped even further. “Be at your desk in twenty minutes. A signal will come in. Use the code on the bottom of the figure.”

The man turned without another word and strode off. O’Brien raised his eyebrows and watched him go. He’d have to tell Julian about this next time they talked; he’d be jealous. Goodness knows how long it had been since his old friend had been involved in any cloak-and-dagger shenanigans.

*

Despite everything O’Brien was a little surprised when, back at his desk, his computer began to chirp. The text on the screen read “incoming external transmission”. External transmissions were always supposed to go through central comms; only an Admiral could bypass that procedure, normally. He turned the little figure over and punched in the numbers he saw there.

“Ah, my dear Professor O’Brien!”

“Ga-” O’Brien stopped himself. For some reason he felt if he said the full name of the Cardassian now grinning at him from the screen it would just summon the whole of Starfleet security. Just behind him and to his left stood the mystery Vulcan/Romulan from the cafe.

“You look well, Professor,” Garak continued, not acknowledging whether or not he had caught the Engineer’s odd outburst.

“Having you call me that is a bit weird,” O’Brien admitted. “How about Chief? I think that’s still technically my rank.”

“Very well, Chief. I believe you know my associate?”

“Not that I can remember.”

“Oh, how silly of me,” the man said, reaching up. “I still have the mask on.”

His hand slid down his face, and the telltale webbing of a holographic disguise flickered to life as the pallor, eyebrows, and eyes vanished. Instead there was a very different kind of pointed ear, skin like powder, and violently violet eyes.

“Weyoun…”

“Yes, it would seem there were, in fact, a few leftover despite what we had been told.” Garak smirked in that old, familiar, entirely unsettling way of his. “It seems they just meant their Alpha Quadrant supply.”

“Of course, I’m now the actual, final one,” Weyoun added. “Garak here found me right before I was…discarded. My predecessors had not been quite so lucky.”

“Is that where you’ve been the past two decades then?” O’Brien asked. “The Gamma Quadrant?”

“Mostly.” Garak raised his brow briefly. “Someone has to keep an eye on the Dominion. Starfleet Intelligence can hardly be trusted to do it on their own, the Romulans are too busy trying to keep their culture intact, and Klingons have never had a spy agency in their entire recorded history.”

“I see.”

“I came across a story that I thought might interest you.” He glanced down and pecked a few buttons just off-camera, and a ping sounded on the Chief’s computer. “Look particularly carefully at the upper left-hand corner of the screen. It was a pleasure to see you, Chief.”

“Wait…”

But Garak was already gone. O’Brien knew there’d be no point in asking for a trace. Should he report this? He was supposed to, certainly. But this was Garak. O’Brien…well, okay, to say he trusted Garak would be a staggering lie. But he certainly felt like both the Federation and he personally owed him enough that he could be allowed this little indulgence. At least once.

Decision made, O’Brien opened the message he’d been sent. He winced when he recognized rather quickly the world of Argratha. It had all the appearance of a news story of some kind. But the Universal Translator hadn’t caught up to the shift, so he started over and paused it.

Argratha. He’d been twice. The second time some fifteen years later, to testify at a public hearing about his experiences the first time. What his false-memory twenty year imprisonment had been like. There was talk at the time of abandoning the practice; it made the judicial process too casual, too many false guilty charges because, for those who’d never experienced it, what was really lost? The Chief and countless others had told them. How real the time felt, and how cruel the simulation was. He’d told the Special Envoy who’d arranged for him to go that he felt he deserved a medal for how calm he’d been during his testimony. The Envoy had chuckled until the Chief’s expression had told him he had very much meant it.

He started the story up again. When he’d not heard anything for months after his testimony he’d assumed the reforms had failed and the sick practice was still going on. But in fact it had simply taken a bit of extra time and work. The story was about the closing of the final facility that had run such incarcerations. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to weep or go celebrate. He was going to call Keiko straightaway, that much was…

The upper left hand corner.

“No.”

He had almost forgotten to look.

“No.”

Despite it being the entire reason Garak had dropped by.

“Fuck.”

Ee’char. His “imaginary” cellmate. Standing among the crowd of politicians and other self-congratulatory types formally shutting the program down. Almost identical to the twenty-year-older Ee’char from his memories, though one that had clearly lived a somewhat less wretched life. One who’d gotten proper meals and sleep and care, just like O’Brien had.

But did he have the false twenty years that still occasionally wafted into his nightmares and had him waking in a cold sweat? Did he still, on rare occasions, almost set aside a bit of his meal before realizing saving it wasn’t necessary?

“In short, friend,” the Chief said aloud. “Who the fuck are you?”

*

He was glad the stopover at DS9 to switch transports had been short. None of the old crew were there, anymore, but he was fairly certain he was at least vaguely acquainted with some of the Stafleet staff that still maintained a presence on the Bajoran station, and the last thing he wanted to be was some old man wandering around his old posting looking worn and nostalgic. Even Quark had shipped out for Freecloud. A part of him had been tempted to see if Morn was still at his usual seat in whatever the bar was called now, assuming it was even still a bar. But he had just stayed in the docking ring and then made his way to the next leg of his journey.

He spent the flight through the wormhole standing by a window with just about everyone else. He realized that he’d never gone through it after the War had ended, so it was his first time making the journey in ages that he wasn’t expecting to potentially die on the other end. It was so nice to just watch it, to get lost in its beauty, and vaguely wonder if Sisko was watching him just then.

*

O’Brien stood in the space between two homes, watching as a car slid noiselessly from the sky and halted in front of the house. Finding his old friend had been much easier than he’d expected; Garak had encoded everything he needed to find the man in the newsclip he’d sent. A door hissed open and the old Argrathan stepped out. He exchanged inaudible words with someone in the vehicle before the door shut and it lazily drifted back into the sky. O’Brien glanced around. No one else seemed to be coming. He watched as the other man walked towards the his home.

The Chief darted from the shadows and jogged across the street. If Ee’char heard him he showed no sign. O’Brien reached up, paused, and then gently tapped the other man on the shoulder. He gasped and spun.

“Yes?” he asked.

“I’m…ah…I’m Miles O’Brien.”

“Oh. Oh! Yes, yes, I remember watching your testimony.” He held out a hand “Ko’vax.”

“A pleasure,” the Chief replied, taking his hand and shaking it.

“But why did you come to see me?”

“We…well, we were cellmates, you see.”

“Were we?” He nodded slowly. “Well. Someone had quite the sense of humor.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve been arguing against our mental prisons for a very long time.” His lips went slender and he glanced off. “Please. Come in, have a warm drink.”

“I…sure, thank you.”

*

“I never had the misfortune of experiencing what you or so many others did,” Ko’vax explained, putting down what seemed effectively to be a mug in front of O’Brien. “But my father did.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Thank you.” He picked up his own mug, almost took a drink, but didn’t and put it down. “His story was similar to so many others. To yours. Adjusting was so hard. Too hard. They don’t offer any kind of help to reintegrate to society. To help you deal with the fact that you’ve not actually lost any time but it still feels like a huge swathe of your life is gone. That might be worse than actually losing time. I don’t know.”

“Neither do I. I’ve never had the real version.”

“He lasted…half a year. My brother found him.” Ko’vax paused and took a sip of his drink, and the Chief finally did automatically. Not that he took any note of the flavor. “I’d already started writing letters, but I got more active after that. Showed up at politician’s doorsteps. Showed up and shouted at meetings that had nothing to do with it. Became a real pain.”

“Must’ve been afraid they’d…well, you know.”

“Oh, sure. But I didn’t care. Let them. Let them put me in a fifty year dream, a century, I knew I’d be fine. I’d have my rage to see me through.” He sighed. “I was so angry for so long. I mean, I never stopped being angry, but you can’t be as constantly angry as I was at first. That would be impossible.”

“So what happened?”

“I lived my life. But I never stopped my campaigning. Whatever free moment I could scrounge up was spent talking with others who shared my goal. I guess someone thought it would be a good laugh to have a cellmate based on the man who hated them and their program so damn much.” He smiled. “But then I got to be there today. When it all ended. Thanks to so many people. Like you.”

“I…” The Chief paused. “I’m glad I could help.”

“So what made you come to see me?”

“I wasn’t sure who you were, to be honest. Outside of looking like Ee’char. That was his name.” He paused. “I guess a part of me was almost hoping you’d been part of it somehow. So I could let you have it. And feel less bad about…how things went between me and the other you.”

“We didn’t get along, eh?”

“We did, eventually. And then for a long time. But then, towards the end…”

“It gets particularly bad, yes. Everyone says that.”

“Well. Glad to know it wasn’t just me getting special treatment, I suppose.” O’Brien took another drink. Now that he was paying attention he realized it was very pleasant. He’d have to find out what it was and bring some home. “We fought. You…he…I killed him.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You’ve nothing to apologize for. I killed you. Sort of.”

“I’m sorry on behalf of a government that will never properly apologize fo anyone affected by their sick little program because they think it’s just fine. They are giving it up with great reluctance you can be sure.” He paused. “And I’m sorry you were driven to that. I know we’ve barely met but you don’t seem the type. So it must have been truly awful to drive you that far.”

“I guess so. I hope so.” He paused. “I don’t know. I’d killed before. Served in one war already by then. But this was something else. Something that still comes up at me in the wee hours. Every time I’d killed before then I could justify it as having been for my survival. And that’s what I told myself it was that time, but I’d not actually proven that first. I told myself it must have been so I could.”

“I wish I could help. I’m almost sorry I’m not who you thought I was.” He shrugged. “If it helps, well…I didn’t go what you went through, but I saw firsthand what it does to people. I know how real it can seem, even to those who go in knowing it isn’t. You had no idea. I’m sorry they used my face as part of your torture. But, if it helps…well, I forgive you. On behalf of the false me. And I only wish you the best.”

“Thanks.” He smiled, nodded. “That actually is nice to hear, somehow.”

*

The wormhole again. Its eddies and currents and majesty unchanged even as the twenty years around it had entirely altered O’Brien’s world. Why had the gone all the way to the Gamma Quadrant? What would he have done if Ko’vax had been involved somehow? Certainly not killed him. Shouted for a bit? What good would that have done? But what good had this done? No. Time to move on. Figure out what’s next. He’d been in neutral for far too long, and…

“Oh, I know that look,” came a voice to his side that he scarcely believed he was hearing. “That is the look of the Chief when everything seems against him. When things have stopped making sense.”

O’Brien turned. There, not looking a day older when he’d last seen him, still in the now very out-of-date uniform, stood Captain Sisko.

“Well, Chief. It’s time for things to start making sense again. And I’m going to need your help.”

The End

—

For more DS9 fanfic, check out Caitlin, Jake, and Ames’s stories from this round of Tales from the Holodeck! And be sure to keep listening to new episodes every Thursday on SoundCloud, follow us on Facebook and Twitter, and stay out of brain jail if you can. Jay-sus.

[am-imagines]

Got Moves. - Alex Morgan Imagine.

Requested by an anon:  his kinda sounded better in my head buttt, could you do one where Alex and the reader are dating and the reader and the younger girls go out to the club while everyone else stays at the hotel for a chill day. And then the girls get really drunk that the reader starts dancing/twerking at the club and no one knew she could dance like that and posted it to social media. And they don’t remember what happened the next day. so then when the team reunites the next day, they tease the reader

“Are you sure you don’t want to come with us?” You ask Alex.

The team is getting ready for a fun evening, but while you and some of the youngsters want to go clubbing, the rest are happy to stay behind and have some pool fun. It’s been some time since you had a drink, and even longer from the last time you had a chance to properly dance.

In all honesty, the team has never seen your moves. In a way, you’re grateful for that. No one knows what they would do with that intel, but you’re pretty sure the teasing would be endless. Maybe they would try to start some sort of competition between Sonnett and you. Not trying to brag but, you would win without a doubt.

“I’m sure. Have fun, okay? Don’t let them break the law.”

You chuckle at her words and nod.

Even when you’re missing her already, you understand she needs some time for herself after dealing with people day in and day out. As much as she’d like to have some privacy in town, she’s Alex Morgan; everyone wants a piece of her.

Media is exhausting as it is, and you’re not gonna ask her to sacrifice the little free time you have just for a drink.

“I’ll try my best.”

There’s a smile on your lips when you lean down to kiss her. Her arms wrap around your neck as she brings you closer. Truthfully, you could do that all day long. And you would; if Rose and Mal hadn’t convinced you to go with them. O’Hara doesn’t count like an adult when alcohol is involved. She would drink her way around a concussion if left unsupervised.

“Y/N! You coming?”

Lavelle’s voice breaks the spell. You pull back reluctantly much to Alex’s amusement. The fact she wants you to have fun doesn’t mean she won’t try to keep you there as long as possible. So, she kisses you again until you forget about the girls.

“Y/L!”

“Go,” Alex says this time. “You don’t want to keep them waiting.”

“Are you sure?” You ask, leaning down to steal another kiss.

“Oh my God. Y/L! You and Janice can make up for this hard separation with sex when we get back. Now, hurry up! The car is here.”

With a sigh, you let Alex go as she chuckles with that mischievous glint in her eyes. That woman drives you crazy in all the right ways; unlike Kelley.

“Real classy, O’Hara!” You shout over your shoulder. “Have you ever heard of love?”

“I have, but that doesn’t mean our face holes are attached together all the damn time.”

You shake your head at that. There’s no way to win with an impatient Kelley. You should’ve known, but when you kiss Alex, it’s easy to forget everything else.

“Love you,” you mouth to Alex while you’re dragged away by a bunch of teenagers.

By the time you make it to the car, you start wondering if their ID’s are fake.

***

The club is packed, but there’s always space for the USWNT. They make space in a private area where the girls and you can do almost anything you want. You claim a corner of the dance club with a drink in hand, that’s enough for the fun to start.

The neon lights flash along with the music, and you follow the girls as they “dance”.

You’re basically jumping on the spot while moving your arms around; barely ducking in time before Sam wacks you in the face. It’s fun even when their rhythm sucks. Someone puts another drink on your hand as you keep fooling around. You enjoy the moment among the younglings of the team, and wonder if this is how it feels to be a parent.

The songs blend together, but at some point the beat drops. You can feel the bass in every single atom of your body, and you smirk.

The beat calls you with its sensuality, and before you know it, your body moves on its own accord. You wish Alex would be there. You would guide her back to your booth and give her a lap dance she couldn’t forget.

You would tease her with the dangerous move of your hips as you flow with the wavelength of the music around you. It fills your body with a different kind of energy; provocative by nature. It feeds your primal side, and you simply don’t have to think.

Your hips sway with that instinct as if luring a prey that isn’t there. The bass leads the way until you’re fully immersed in that moment; going down while your shoulders invite to the touch that won’t come.

It’s such a pity Alex decided to stay at the hotel. She would have liked this song.

Who knows? Maybe you could have convinced her to ditch the girls and go back to your shared room. Instead, you’re doing shots with Kelley until she’s wasted.

She’s laughing uncontrollably; trying to get into the table for God knows what reason.

Rose, Mal and Sam are on their phones, talking among themselves about something you can’t hear above the music.  They don’t even notice when you approach, and that seems like a good time as any to call it a night.

Only then you realize you’re phone is nowhere to be seen. Thinking about it, you didn’t have it with you leaving the hotel. It’s probably forgotten somewhere in your room, and you blame Kelley for that. Yes, technically you were too busy kissing Alex to even think about the damn phone. But maybe you would have remembered if O’Hara wasn’t rushing you so damn much.

“Lavelle, can you call an Uber?”

“On it,” she says without looking at you.

“Damn, Y/n! You got moves! Can you teach me some of those?” Mal asks.

“Maybe next time,” you answer with a smirk.

“Oh, I bet certain forward would really really like to see them,” Kelley adds before winking with both eyes.

Totally wasted.

“O’Hara?”

“What?”

“Shut the hell up.”

***

You wake up groggy the next morning; not hungover but you’ve definitely had better days.

Alex is nowhere to be seen, but she left a note telling you she’ll see you at breakfast. You groan after reading it, and cuddle into her pillow for five more minutes. This would be the perfect time to cuddle with her instead of the pillow, but that can’t really happen now.

You leave bed, shower and change before starting a hunt for coffee, love, and food in that specific order. The slight headache reminds you exactly why you don’t drink that much anymore.

Everyone turns their attention to you as soon as you enter and you wonder what’s going on as you shamelessly sit down on Alex’s lap. She’s your girlfriend, she’s offering you a steaming cup of coffee, and they can suck it.

It’s not like Kelley is going to move when she’s slumped all over the table; probably half dead. And you’re not going to sit on Tobin’s; Press would probably try to murder you.

“Did I miss something?” You ask when the team keeps giving you weird looks.

“Oh, God. She doesn’t remember,” Rose mutters into her orange juice.

“Remember what?”

“Yesterday we went to a club.”

That’s extremely unhelpful and you roll your eyes at that. You turn to face Alex, but she won’t meet your eye. Oh, now you really want to know what’s happening if it makes Alex fucking Morgan act like that.

“Yeah, I know. I remember Sam almost gave me a black eye while we had to drag Kelley away from the table. Her dancing is not the kind that should be broadcast.”

Alex looks up at that; eyes darker than they were a moment ago. Interesting.

The girls laugh at your comment but still, you’re even more confused. Apparently, there’s something you can’t remember even when the night is clear on your head.

“Have you checked your Insta?” Christen finally throws you a bone.

“I don’t know where’ my phone is.”

After a soft kiss, Alex lets you borrow hers to check your mentions and sure enough; there’s a vid of a very specific dance you remember. What you can’t recall is; the exact moment they started recording.

“I didn’t know you could dance like that,” Sonnett chimes.

“Yeah, no offense, but that was the point.”

You poke Kelley’s side but she doesn’t react until the fifth time.

“What do you want?”

“Why the fuck did you record me?”

“Al deserved to see it.”

“You ever heard of DM’s?”

“With the way you hog each other in public, I thought you wouldn’t mind.”

You don’t have a comeback for that so you solely wait until Kelley is dozing off again before pouring half a glass of ice cold water into her head.

“What the hell?” She shouts jerking awake just to glare at you.

“I hate you.”

“No, you fucking don’t.”

“Shows us the moves, Y/n!” Ash interrupts your staring contest with Kel.

“Sorry, those are reserved for number thirteen only.”

“Do I get to see them now?” Alex whispers.

So, that’s it. You knew she would have liked that dance. And you don’t mind putting on a very private show for her. However, it wouldn’t be good for your reputation to give on so easily.

“Tell you what, win the scrimmage today and I’ll see what I can do.”

Appealing to Alex’s competitiveness is like playing with fire, but you plan to burn.

“Game on.”

“You two are seriously disgusting.”

“O’Hara?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll shut the hell up.”

[ifbrd]

Since the old villains in Word Up have been reformed, mind sharing what happened to them and how they turned their lives around? Do they play any part in Word Up?

Okay, so this time I was smart and decided to type this out in a word document!

Long post warning!

Before getting into each individual villain (or most villains, there’s just so dang many of them! I’m sure I’ll forget someone!) I want to talk about them as a whole.

All of them are reformed, and Tobey was basically the start of it all. He inspired several other villains, who inspired others, and over the years they all slowly gave up villain life. The last ones to quit (either BLHG and Invisi-Bill or Rhyme and Reason or both) did so after WordGirl retired from being a hero, because “everyone else did it and it’s not going to be any fun without WordGirl!”

After a few villains went good, Tobey and Dr. Two Brains co-founded the Anti-Villain Association (AVA), which was designed to be a place where villains, or even just minor criminals, who wanted to go good could go to discuss their struggles and experiences with switching sides (it’s kinda like a villain AA meeting). I don’t have many plans for each individual villain to play a major part in the story, again because there’s so many that would have been hard, but the AVA does play a part and so, by extension, the villains do play a bit of a role. However, I think most of this will go to Two Brains since he’s the co-founder and the other co-founder will be busy with all the other plans I have for him XD.

Many of their old weapons have been discarded, but also many of them are still around. For some, it’s to use in case of emergency (like a break-in), others have found other uses for their weapons (you better believe Chuck uses his condiment ray to make sandwiches!) others just couldn’t bear to destroy them (Tobey still has some surviving robots that were designed to crush the city, they’re happily living deep deep deep in the woods because Tobey didn’t feel right about destroying them for no reason), and some weapons are more difficult to destroy (like Mr. Big’s mind control, I’ll go into that a little more when I talk about him.)

Very few of them had kids, for a couple of reasons. 1. Many were too busy trying to turn their lives around to make a family life a priority 2. Many didn’t think they’d make good parents given their criminal history 3. There’s like 30 something villains and I wasn’t about to create children for each of them that’s just so many characters I would have had to make from scratch and I already had Theo, Julie, Emma, and Daisy, not to mention the new villains I had to make and I wanted everyone to have a little bit of depth so yeah… The ones who did have kids (and I might forget someone so sorry in advance if I did) are Tobey (obviously), Victoria, the unnamed henchman of Dr. Two Brains and The Butcher

Now let's get into them individually. Many of them I don’t have the story (at least not yet, if I get time I may start brainstorming that) of why they retired as villains, but for almost all of them I have ideas on what they’re up to now because I thought that was a little more important.

Dr. Two Brains- Was the second villain to retire. He saw Tobey doing such a great job and realized he missed that life for himself and said, “well if that little shit can do it, so can I!” He knew he could ignore the mouse brain’s evil desires, as long as he could fulfill its cheese desires, so his first step was to find a legal way to get a lot of cheese. So, he and his henchman started making cheese! And because Two Brains couldn’t wait, he decided to make a cheese aging ray. Suddenly he was able to produce quite a bit of cheese in record time. And actually, could make more than he could eat. He started selling his cheese and now is the main source of cheese in the city! The company slogan is “Evilly delicious!” And I was thinking about this today at work and realized he’s probably made a lot of money from this because with the aging process completely cut, he can probably charge less, but there’s something called “perceived value” where people think if something is super cheap then there must be something wrong with it, so you want to shoot a little higher when pricing products, so Two Brains probably has to have his cheese priced higher than he needs, so he probably has a pretty decent turn over rate! Anyway! As mentioned above, his unnamed henchman had a daughter, who Two Brains considers a granddaughter. She is aware of her interesting family’s criminal history and accepts it. She loves cheese but she’s not a fan of helping in the cheese-making process.

Chuck and the Butcher- (their stories are so linked it just made more sense to talk about them together) Were the third and fourth villains to go good and did so pretty much at the same time, for similar reasons, those reasons being “this isn’t fun anymore, I’m not getting anywhere with it, and look at what a great job Tobey and Two Brains are doing!” After retiring they partnered up and started a sandwich food truck, which today is a full-blown restaurant. Chuck does most of the sandwich making, but Butcher helps and he’s the meat supplier (guess where they get their cheese from!). I mentioned that the Butcher had a child. He has one son named Kale and a grandson named Baker. His son and grandson have powers like him, with Kale’s being vegetable related and Baker’s being bread-related (bread, not pastries! Important note! However, Baker does like to bake pastries, he’s about eight BTW). Kale and Butcher’s relationship will have a bit of focus in Word Up, and Kale will be a reoccurring character. Kale is very prideful and independent and will do just about anything for Baker. Kale is aware of his dad’s criminal past, Baker probably is aware too, but IDK maybe not. Chuck being close to the Butcher is naturally close with his family. Besides that, he still spends a lot of time with his mom and Brent, who he has a bit of a healthier relationship with now.

Granny May- The fifth villain to retire, and she basically just retired. She basically said “well I’m done! This is getting old and so am I!” She’s still alive, currently having the honor of being the oldest person in the city and is living in an assisted living facility. She’s pretty “together” mentally (how I describe residents at the assisted living facility I work at who haven’t been taken over by dementia yet). She uses a scooter now but carries a cane with her. Why? To whack people who need to have some sense knocked into them of course! Other AVA members are happy to pick her up for their weekly meetings and drive her back home, despite her claims that she could still drive fine “if they would let me!” (don’t let this woman go behind the wheel anymore, don’t listen to her!)

Mr. Big and Leslie- Mr. Big was inspired by the villains before him turning their lives around and claiming to be much happier. He tried this and struggled a lot. He eventually realized his issue was greed, it was too strong for him. So, he gave everything up, he gave his company to Leslie and basically became a minimalist hippie (again, my love for irony shines through!...also I thought the idea of Big being a hippie was HILARIOUS). Leslie has run the company ethically ever since. Today it’s essentially Amazon with morals. Mr. Big and Leslie are friends and talk all the time. Their mind control tech is still around, the reason I’ve decided is that some of the later tech was so powerful that destroying it might unintentionally send out a mind control signal. I’m open to better suggestions; I just need the mind control tech to still exist and be something someone could steal…hint hint….

Ms. Question- Eventually got a job as an interrogator for the police station! She’s the best interrogator there is! She doesn’t typically use her powers on people to get them to confess, usually, they just break from the mass amount of questions she asks, but in more extreme circumstances she is willing to use her powers.

Learnerer- Like Ms. Question, Learnerer found a better gig with the police force. He’s the city’s detective, and rocks at it with all his “learninging” skills. He looks for clues and learns how criminals commit crimes and uses that information to catch criminals in the act and stop them. He often works with Ms. Question.

Amazing Rope Guy- Actually got decent at rope tricks and is an entertainer now! I won’t say he’s incredible, but he’s alright! The other AVA members often hire him for entertainment events (he’s been to several of Theo’s birthday parties and Theo has politely asked his parents to not do that anymore, so now they’re gonna hire him for Julie’s parties) more to support him than because of his skills

Whammer- is a professional demolisher. You need an old building torn down? Call the Whammer! You need to gut the kitchen of a house you’re flipping? Call the Whammer! Need to clear an area of land for a project? Call the Whammer! Need snow off the street so people can get home? Call the Whammer. He loves his job

Lady Redundant Woman- She kept moving up in her job at the copy place, and eventually had learned to do every position there. With this knowledge and skills, she opened up her own copy place where she and her copies are the sole employees. Turns out your business can make a lot of money when you can have the exact right amount of employees at all times and don’t technically have to pay them because they’re technically you!

Hal Hardbargin- Sold his villain inventions and blueprints to the police station so they could have a better understanding of how certain villain gadgets work and therefore how to stop them. Also has made a few honest weapons for some heroes

Seymore- Hosts a self-made YouTube (or YouTube-like website) show called “Can You Spot the Scam?” where he helps innocent citizens learn how to spot scams

Big Left Hand Guy and Invisi-Bill-I never could think of what they’d be up to, so I decided they are still trying to figure out what they should do next. (because my favorite thing when I have a writing problem is to take advantage of it and turn it into a plot point! …something I did with a very important plot point in Word Up that will be revealed in Return to Fair City)

Rhyme and Reason- again I don’t have too much an idea of what they’re up too, but I like to think they are a QPR because I like platonic partnerships!

I talked about Victoria and Eileen here Thanks for the question! Feel free to ask more!

[bettsfic]

Please bestow is with your Dark thoughts Betts. When they used Hozier’s ‘somewhere in the woods’....put a fork in me I’m done.

when i had to pause the show to google “quantum superposition” i realized that i wasn’t enjoying the direction it had taken. 

mostly, i have questions.

where did the fifth martha come from? the one adam killed with the god particle? she wasn’t on the same path as eva’s martha and never got the face scar but she died? 

what were magnus and franziska doing when bartosz and jonas were being cranky in the nineteenth century?

bartosz says that jonas’ appearance got all fucked up because of traveling but? where did he travel? how did he get the god particle to work?

where did those fucking round time/world machines come from and how does everyone know how to use them without being taught?

if young noah sees agnes kill older noah, doesn’t he already know that jonas betrays him, before he even betrays him? (i might be remembering that wrong)

if there’s an original world that deviates in 1986, am i supposed to believe that every single character born from time travel just doesn’t exist in the original world? and if that’s true, doesn’t there mean there would have to have been a first loop to tie the rest of the knot, and if that’s the case, then the first iteration would be distinctly different from the rest? this is the biggest plot hole in the entire show 

am i supposed to believe that jonas’ existence is such a bad influence on bartosz that he’s a burnout in adam’s world but a goddamn nuclear physicist in eva’s?

if both eva and adam’s world came from the same initial point, what set off the differences? why are there so many color differences and architectural mirroring, which implies the architects and designers across both worlds are the same but prefer mirrored layouts and different color palettes?

did eva want the loop to continue and adam wanted it to stop? for all they reiterated what both of them wanted, i still can’t tell how they were in conflict? 

where did the third claudia come from, when we watched claudia prime shoot her in the head?

how is everyone suddenly able to travel at any point in time and presumably any space, when before they could only go in 33 year intervals?

where did the broken time machine come from that claudia gives to adult jonas, who gives it to tanhaus who then discovers time travel?

what was the result of tanhaus’ experiment that split the original world? did he see any results or was he just like “damn that was a bust” and have no idea he superimposed 3 realities on top of one another?

why is the bunker a bunker all of the time except for 1986 when it suddenly turns into a fully furnished boy’s bedroom complete with a television set? and why did the first time machine require killing boys when technically the time machine itself is a paradox, because it has always existed? (but again, the ending implies there was a first time loop, so it can’t have always existed)

why did eva’s apocalypse result in a bunch of sand??

adam presumably spends 33 years trying to figure out the god particle or whatever, but eva in her world just...has it already? who figured it out?

how does the noah in eva’s world exist if there’s no jonas to take bartosz back in time to meet silja, who wouldn’t have been born anyway if hannah didn’t go back in time to spite fuck egon?

who fucked helge? 

am i the only one who thought noah was going to start making out with jonas after charlotte kidnaps herself?

in the original world, regina isn’t with aleksander. does this mean boris doesn’t murder anyone in the original world, and does that mean the murder was a result of time travel? and since the murder happened outside winden, are we supposed to believe that the time travel that happened within winden had a greater affect on the entire planet? or did he only not show up so that bartozs couldn’t be born and therefore fuck adam’s sister and have agnes, who fucks adam’s son, and have tronte?

if tronte isn’t regina’s father, who is?

why does charlotte spend so long in s1 and 2 developing her character as a sharp-witted skeptic only to immediately begin doing adam’s bidding? 

when egon arrives in eva’s world to help hannah give birth, do they just both die in the apocalypse? and if so, why did eva bother to send egon back at all? and also, in eva’s world egon doesn’t even know hannah so why tf would he care?

what is katharina’s name in the original world if hannah isn’t in 1954 to inspire helena?

if adam and eva’s rhetoric revolves around “if you don’t work for me, everyone will die” why is it then suddenly okay to make sure most of the characters never existed at all? 

are we sure the apocalypse doesn’t happen in the original world? does that imply that the apocalypse is the result of time travel? did claudia travel to the original world to confirm for absolute certain the apocalypse didn’t happen? since it was kind of her fault in both worlds?? and does adam-world claudia meet up with original-world claudia at all to tell her the situation? if not, why wouldn’t she??

am i supposed to believe agnes voluntarily fucked the original, or is this a coercion situation in order to have tronte? 

am i also supposed to believe agnes would never go back for doris? that she put her allegiance to adam above everything?

why did they spend all of s2 trying to solve the detective’s brother’s murder if they only mentioned it in passing in s3? just, aleksander admits to bartosz that it happened, and that’s it? 

why are there so many people who hit other people with rocks (and a fire extinguisher)?

why is everyone crying in nearly every scene?

lastly and most importantly, WHAT HAPPENED TO WOLLER’S EYE?

i have more questions probably but they’re impossible to answer because they’re either plot holes or rhetorical. i still love the first two seasons, but the third fell prey to what i feared would happen, which is that the ambition of the conflict became too unwieldy for its container. my biggest disappointment is the major time travel plot hole, which had otherwise been so seamless. i found myself this season not really caring about the characters at all, because everything was so focused on plot, which imo is what made s1 and 2 so special, a show that values its characters over the ingenuity of its plot. s3 does not hold that same standard. there’s a bizarre amount of crying that does not at all add to the emotional stakes. i wasn’t bored while watching, but i definitely was not as compelled as the first two seasons.

i know this show will never have a lot of fic, but here’s an incomplete list of fics i’d die to read:

noah/elisabeth falling in love after the apocalypse 

jonas/noah post-apocalypse friends to lovers to enemies 

jonas/bartosz 19th c. friends to lovers to enemies

agnes/doris reunion and HEA

egon/hannah 1950s unrequited angsty love 

adult!jonas/hannah s2 mother/son time travel shenanigans

adult!jonas/teen!martha 19th c. sad angst

literally anything that addresses and fixes some of the plot holes

ultimately i think the show ended on the right and inevitable beat, but the path it took to get there didn’t make any sense, and i think would have been better utilized if the writer stuck to honoring the characters rather than exploring the thematic implications of time travel. 

[arkt-zeraph-archive]

Thoughts on the actual land of Nehrim?

Soooo many thoughts!  Possibly too many to share in one post, but I’ll try to keep it contained(I make no promises).  I’m still gonna put a break in it so it doesn’t just throw a WALL onto people’s dashes. 

Before saying anything tho, I subscribe to Nehrim’s clock that 1,000 years really did pass between certain events, so I’ll be cataloging my thoughts according to that. 

So the land of Nehrim!  Possibly the single most diverse place on Vyn!  Trouncing even Qyra, since Qyra is still overseen teeeechnically by a theocratic element (Saldrin) for a vast majority of time and is mostly just arid/tropical desert. Sure Qyra is SUPER progressive as far as Vyn’s various territories go, and I dream of a game set on that continent-  AAAH okay, focusing. Here to talk about Nehrim, not Qyra. 

So at one point in time, we’ll say somewhere in the 7200s a.St. by the Light-born’s established clock, Nehrim was a loosely unified place under Erodan. Not in the sense that everybody -agrees- with one another, but y’know, nobody is -actively- at war.  We got the Middlerealm of course, which is the seat of Erodan’s power in which he may or may not have actually -lived- amongst his subjects (given Narathzul is described as being his right-hand dude and the Order of Paladins is stationed -on- Nehrim up north, I’m inclined to think this is true).  Then there’s the North, which wasn’t it’s -own- territory at this point but still definitely had its own diverse culture and possibly still some manner of monarchy specifically loyal -to- Erodan  (not too hard to believe given Erodan is actually a half-breed between “Light-born” and Norman anyway; King Wuran). Then we have Ostian, which only -recently- in lore has been the theocratic dictatorship we see in Nehrim (only existed for 40 years by then), otherwise being described as being a home of art and culture, much like Qyra. A place still recognizing Erodan’s rule, but likely having its own power structure beneath him- again, a lot like Qyra/Golden Queen/Saldrin.  Lastly there’s Treomar!  Which I am fascinated by because it’s a swath of territory -attached- to Nehrim, that is openly -not- loyal to Erodan or the Light-born. From those that live within during Nehrim’s gameplay, one can assume it was primarily, if not entirely a nation of Aeterna, possibly loyalists still to ancient figures like Asatoron and Aeterna from Irdor (which is it’s own whole fuckin’ thing, I’ll share thoughts on that later).  With its geographical location its not too hard to imagine they came from Myar Aranath and landed in what they’d found as Treomar, building this Dalaran-esque (any Warcraft peeps in here?) mage society and aaaaaaaaaah, they’re cool. 

There’s all of this going on and co-existing at least to some degree, with the only other place approaching being that diverse being Arktwend later. I honestly would have looooved to see this Nehrim, before all the craziness and war and murderdeath that results in the country -we- know and experience in the game itself, as back then I’m fairly sure the magic abolition hadn’t been a -thing- yet  (because Aeterna and magic weren’t such a threat to Barateon’s power), so Aeterna would’ve still had rights n’ such, though they were probably still looked down on because of heritage (soooo gonna get into THAT later mmmMMM).  Erodan all in all seemed pretty chill all things considered, which may be owed to his half-breed status, he’s closer to the people on a genetic level, so maybe that makes him inclined to treat people better I dunno.  We only get to see him for like two seconds and -can’t- talk to him!  So!  -shrug-  

OH SHIT I forgot somebody really important!  -Anku-!  Technically speaking that is totally a fifth nation/state, as it encompasses a huuuuge swath of territory (underground) and is ruled by some fashion of monarchy, so -EVEN- more diverse cultures on this continent. The Starlings don’t answer to Erodan, but still exist peacefully within Nehrim within their own lil’ pocket nation and MAN I was sad most of our time spent with the Starlings is in the parts of their territory they don’t actually spend time in. I get it, when we got to see Anku is a time when there’s very few Starlings actually -left-, but still. They’re such a neat race, especially when you consider Nehrim’s lore for them over Enderal’s (which downgrades them significantly from the literal galactic superpower they’re said to be in Nehrim). 

And all of this!  All of this and still the Nehrim -we- see and adventure in is -so -different. Erodan is dead, has been for -centuries-.  Now there’s this grubby, tyrant human in the throne named Barateon, who’s loyalty literally goes only as deep as whatever preserves his life the longest. Credit where it’s due, he’s still a powerful arcanist, extending his years beyond what mortals should be capable of (which is exactly what the myths say the Light-born did so hhHHMMM more on that in another post).  Treomar is destroyed, and much of its history is gone with it outside of specific documentation the Light-born for some reason keep around and guarded instead of getting rid of it- like they -want- people to rise up against them or something. Ostian is a friggen magical radioactive wasteland where the fabric of reality is so damaged now even the skies rage with toxic super storms- and as if that weren’t enough the part of its that’s still inhabitable is now kept under the bootheel of another powerful mortal mage whose roftstomped everybody into a new highly oppressive, morally appalling religion that saw Enderal’s Prophet created from its awful maw.  Like, Nehrim has become, in its centuries outside of -direct- supervision become this tragic shadow of what it once was, and when you actually dig into the lore of how it all ran before, it’s just like auuuughh -man-. It’s so sad. ;_;  It’s tragic that somebody as negligent and awful as Tyr, is proven right, because of how life has degraded in the absence of direct intervention. And I’m not making a case for Light-born tyranny here!  I’m just saying Nehrim 1,000 years ago was pretty cool and I would’ve loved to see it  (I’ll just have to write stories from that era heheheh >>;).  

So yeah uuuh...  OH!  I didn’t even mention the sheer amount of Aeterna ruins all around Nehrim!  Suggesting Asatoron’s empire probably had a decent chunk of it built there when it was still part of the super-continent of Pangora! I would’ve loved to be able to actually -speak- to the clans of Aeterna that took refuge and used these ruins; I want to know so badly -who- Etronar is, I want to know more of the various Aeterna peoples that splintered off and had to find safe corners in Nehrim to exist after Narathzul’s rebellion and subsequent defeat/capture, that is centuries worth of time, a significant swath of history and there’s so much to play with there that y’know, stuff like cutting the timeline apart and whittling it down just makes all the unrealized potential sssoooo friggen unsatisfying, but anyway. 

Overall, I think Nehrim, as a region, is a fascinating place. So much has happened there, absolutely world-defining events that changed so many things; how Aeterna were viewed and treated, how use of magic is policed/outlawed, how the Light-born govern purely from a fear of -what if they rebel again-, I mean they ALL retreated to Inodan after Narathzul and Arkt unleashed their individual rebellions and ruled from a distance, bringing about this era of mystery where the peoples of the world just -forgot- what it was to -see- and -hear- their Gods, leading to no small amount of many just, -not- thinking they actually existed. I mean shit, look at how Jespar thinks, that man came out of an upbringing that tried its -hardest- to instill faith in the Light-born, but without them actually around to -prove- anything for -centuries-, what grounds did they really have to prove to the kid they were legit?  But there I go getting off topic -again-, because I love Vyn way too damn much. 

I love Nehrim. I think Nehrim is awesome, and fascinating, and I feel too many feelings.   xD  

Thanks for the ask @mirogeorgiev!

[cruelangelstheses]

louder than the maker’s revolver (and twice as shiny) - chapter 1: look alive, sunshine

fandom: dragon age rating: M characters: isabela/f!hawke, bethany/merrill, anders/fenris/m!hawke words (total): 6.5k words (this chapter): 6.5k additional tags: fabulous killjoys au, post-apocalypse, twin hawkes, slow burn, mutual pining, angst with a happy ending, canon-typical violence description: in which an eight-person gang of rebels living in the desert pisses off the government, firefights are lost and won, homoerotic wound-dressing is commonplace, bonds are forged and broken and reforged, feelings are hard, fighting a powerful and corrupt institution is slightly less hard, and everyone is just trying to survive, to heal, to find their way. (or, “the da2 killjoy au nobody asked for”) a/n: ITS STILL 2019 OUT WEST I MADE IT!!! ok so. [cracks knuckles] this is an AU fic based on the universe created in my chemical romance's album “danger days: the true lives of the fabulous killjoys” (and gerard way's subsequent comics) about rebels in the desert fighting a corrupt government post-apocalypse. the album starts/takes place in the year 2019 which is why i wanted to get this fic out before the year ends. while the general setting and terms are the same, no characters from the killjoy universe will appear and everything else is a more loose interpretation. you do not have to be familiar with my chem or the killjoy universe to read this. (for those who know the story, this fic takes place in the year 2030, so after the original “fab four” have died but before the events of the comics, during a sort of “lull” in the action you could say)

a key feature of the killjoy universe is the usage of “killjoy names,” usually one or two-word phrases that relate to the person, and often the person created the name themself - the original four are party poison, fun ghoul, jet star, and kobra kid. i've given each member of the crew a killjoy name (see below) that the other characters will usually use in dialogue (except for characters who knew each other before they became killjoys and got names), but i will use their real names for the most part in narration so you don't forget who's who

ANYWAY i've been planning this fic for a whole year now and it's gonna be a FUN RIDE !!!! i've left a guide at the end for the killjoy names (not all of them are mentioned in this chapter though). i tried my best to explain what certain terms mean in this chapter but they will all be expanded upon more throughout the fic!! ALSO some of characters might end up aged down a little bit because people in the zones tend not to live very long and someone in their early to mid 40s is considered like, ancient in the comics. bethany and carver are still 19 though, the others might just be adjusted in proportion

thank u for reading, i love ensemble casts and da2 and mcr and rebellion and also being gay. fic title and chapter title come from “look alive, sunshine” (by mcr of course lol)

read it on ao3

—

Bethany has never been one to complain, but she has to admit, her knee hurts like a bitch.

The rest of the Birds take down the remaining Draculoids fairly easily, so she doesn’t feel as bad about having to hide crouched behind a crate on the ground. If there were more of them, or if there was a Scarecrow, she’d probably try to keep fighting despite her injury, but this is just a small, unlucky group of Dracs, leaderless and mindless in their pursuit of one of the biggest gangs in the Zones. Perhaps a Scarecrow would have ordered them not to try to fight a group of eight fairly seasoned Killjoys.

When the guns stop firing and the Dracs lie dead in the desert sand, Isabela’s voice floats over. “You know, Blondie, a smoke bomb would’ve helped.”

Anders sighs. Bethany can practically hear him rolling his eyes. “Those things don’t grow on trees, you know. And even if they did, it’s not like we have many trees out here. You think I want to waste them on a group like that? We got rid of them just fine.”

Bethany peers out from behind the crate just in time to see Isabela shrug and gesture to her. “Well, at the very least, it might’ve saved Sunshine from being shot.”

At that, Carver seems to snap to attention. “Bethany’s hurt?”

Now it’s Bethany’s turn to sigh. Gingerly stretching her leg out and trying not to wince, she says, “It’s not that bad, Carver.”

Marian huffs, shoving her red-and-black ray gun back into its holster. “‘Not that bad,’ my ass.” She sounds angry, but there’s an edge of worry to her voice that Bethany knows like the back of her hand. “A few more shots like that and you’d have been dusted for sure.”

“But I wasn’t,” Bethany replies. Out of the corner of her eye, she can see Anders rummaging through their supplies for the first aid kit.

“But you could’ve been,” Carver adds, crossing his arms and glaring at Marian as if she had something to do with the injury.

Marian scowls defensively. “What are you looking at me for? I was killing Dracs! Maybe if you weren’t so busy trying to show off at every opportunity, you could protect her better!” She sneers out the word protect.

“Maybe if you actually thought before you acted for once in your life—”

“Hey!”

Garrett’s voice rings out above everything else, so loud and firm that for a split second it feels like the whole world stops. These are the moments when Garrett Hawke is at his most serious and his most powerful: when he’s breaking up an argument between Carver and Marian.

“How about instead of blaming each other for Bethany’s injury,” he says, his hands held up in an appeasing manner, “we set up camp here and rest for the evening?”

Marian and Carver exchange glances. After a pause, it’s Marian that says, “Fine.”

The place in question is an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of Zone Four, not so remote that it’s off the map, but remote enough that there aren’t a whole lot of Dracs crawling around (and even fewer now that they’ve taken care of this group). A few empty crates and barrels litter the ground surrounding it, some knocked over or zapped from previous firefights. Other than that, there are no recent signs of life—which means it’s a perfect place for the Birds of Passage to recuperate.

Bethany pushes herself to her feet, using the top of the crate to balance herself. Her knee hurts even more when she tries to stretch it out or place any weight on it, but she’ll be damned if she lets anyone help her.

“Are you alright?”

Well...almost anyone.

She lifts her head up at the sound of Merrill’s lilting voice. The girl’s black hair is plastered to her tattooed and sweat-covered face, not long enough to pull up into a ponytail like Bethany’s, but just long enough to get in the way. “I can help you get inside, if you want,” she says, holding her hand out. “Then we can take a look at it, get it all wrapped up.”

For a moment, Bethany just stares at her, searching her face for any signs of pity. Instead she finds only sincere concern for a companion, the same as it would be if any of the others were injured. With a nod, she lets Merrill wrap an arm around her shoulders and guide her slowly into the warehouse. She can feel the eyes of the rest of the group on them, some more subtle than others, but she knows deep down that they’re just making sure she’s okay. Like it or not, she and Carver are the youngest, and though he tries so obviously hard to act like he isn’t, there are still moments where the others look at him and remember that he’s only nineteen, too—moments like right now, as he paces agitatedly across the floor, looking like he’s never been more stressed in his life.

“Carver,” Bethany calls as Merrill helps her sit up against the wall, her legs stretched out. “I’ll be fine.” She laughs a little despite the stinging pain. “It’s not like we’ll have to amputate it or anything.”

Anders kneels down beside her, first aid kit in hand and a good-natured smile on his face. “We might.”

Merrill smacks his arm. “Don’t scare them!” she hisses as she sits down next to Bethany.

Garrett turns to Carver, cool and composed. “She’s fine,” he says matter-of-factly, a playful smirk on his face. “If it were really that bad, none of us would be joking.”

Carver snorts. “You might.”

Garrett puts a hand to his chest in mock offense. “Dear brother, you wound me.”

Merrill giggles as she watches them, her gaze soft. “Your siblings remind me of my family sometimes,” she says as Anders begins cleaning and dressing the wound. “Well-intentioned, but sometimes they need to be reminded that you’re an adult, same as them.”

Bethany nods. If there’s anyone that understands her, it’s Merrill. “To be fair,” she says quietly, “sometimes I need to be reminded of that, too.”

Merrill turns to look at her, pushing a few strands of hair out of her face. “Then I’ll remind you,” she says. “You’re a grown woman. You don’t have to always agree or go along with them. You can stand up for yourself like anyone else.”

Bethany nods again, unable to stop a faint smile from breaking through. Anders doesn’t say anything, but she can see the blush on his face, as if he’s just witnessed something he feels he wasn’t meant to see.

—

The Hawkes are only on the run for a month or two before they meet their first recruit (and fifth member).

Well, perhaps “on the run” isn’t the right phrase. All Killjoys are technically “on the run” from Better Living Industries—it comes with the whole “openly rebelling against your corrupt government” thing. But it doesn’t really feel like running. It feels like surviving. Every Killjoy knows it’s dangerous to stay in one place for too long.

Still, they’re traveling a lot more than they did when their parents were both still alive. Growing up in the Zones outside of Battery City, away from BLI brainwashing, the Hawke children learned how to thrive in the desert fairly quickly, which meant that their family was able to more easily live off the land for longer periods of time.

Now, though, after selling most of their belongings, they live out of their car, a black 1969 Chevy Camaro convertible, spray-painted with two red stripes down the sides and a red bird symbol on the hood (courtesy of Garrett). In honor of their surname as well as their living situation, they’ve christened themselves the Birds of Passage.

For obvious reasons, one of their most common pit stops is one of several Dead Pegasus gas stations littering the Zones. The siblings usually draw straws to determine which one of them has to pump the gas.

“Damn! Again?” Carver says, staring at the short straw between his fingers in disbelief. Frowning, he starts to open the left-side car door. “Just my luck.”

In the driver’s seat, Marian reaches into the back and pats Carver on the shoulder, a smirk on her face. “You’ll live. Now go.” With that, she gives him a light shove out the door. Carver snorts.

As he starts pumping the gas, Marian absentmindedly surveys the area, not really expecting to see anything out of the ordinary. Out of the corner of her eye, though, she spots someone she’s never seen before at one of the other fuel pumps: a petite girl filling up a black and forest green motorbike.

Bethany seems to notice her at the same time. “Who’s that?”

Garrett strokes his beard, like an asshole. “No idea.”

“Let’s find out.” Before anyone else can respond, Marian hops out of the car, popping the collar of her black leather jacket. She’s mostly tuned Garrett out at this point, but she thinks she can hear him warn her not to scare the poor girl. He underestimates her ability to be charming rather than terrifying.

The first thing Marian notices is that the girl dresses like a Killjoy. Her brown boots have flowers painted on the sides, and her acid-washed jeans are ripped and dirty. The back of her denim vest features a large daisy with white petals and a yellow center, and in the center is a radiation hazard symbol.

“Nice logo,” Marian says as she approaches.

The girl yelps in surprise, nearly dropping the gas pump in her hands. When she turns around, Marian sees that her face is adorned with branch- or root-like tattoos on her cheeks, forehead, and chin. “Oh!” she says, clearly taken aback. “Uh…thank you.”

Marian can practically hear Garrett’s “I told you so” from the Camaro. Holding a hand up, she says, “Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.” Somehow, her voice still comes out sounding gruff and vaguely threatening.

“Oh, that’s alright,” the girl replies, leaning against her motorcycle and seeming to relax a little. “I was just filling up Feathers.”

Marian raises an eyebrow. “Strange name for a motorcycle.”

The girl blushes. “Well, I named it after a pet I had when I was younger.”

“Oh,” Marian says, nodding. That makes a bit more sense. “A bird?”

The girl laughs a little and shakes her head. “Oh, no, it was a lizard. I always wanted a bird so I could name it Feathers. But I grew up in the Zones, and there aren’t many birds out here. Lots of lizards, though.” She gives Marian a lopsided smile. “I took what I could get.”

Marian can’t help it; she laughs, though in the back of her mind, she wonders why she’s never seen this girl before, if she grew up in the Zones.

“Oh! I’m so sorry,” the girl says, her green eyes widening. “I didn’t mean to ramble. I didn’t even introduce myself.” She holds out a hand, both of which are covered in long, fingerless fishnet gloves that end near her elbows. “Deadly Daisy. Daisy for short. Or you can just call me Merrill. I don’t mind.”

That explains the logo. “Kitty Hawke,” Marian replies, shaking Merrill’s hand firmly.

Merrill nods and starts to speak again, but something behind Marian makes her stop and narrow her eyes in confusion. “Who—?”

Marian glances over her shoulder and nearly jumps out of her shoes. Not one, not two, but all three of her siblings have decided to join the conversation.

“Firebird,” Garrett says, bowing dramatically—so dramatically, in fact, that it makes his stupid sunglasses fall off his face. Garrett has a habit of collecting weird sunglasses and goggles and such. This particular pair has bright orange lenses, which Marian is pretty sure do nothing to block out the sun, and flames sticking out on either side.

Marian rolls her eyes. “My twin brother,” she explains. “It seems I stole all his brain cells in the womb.”

Garrett blows a raspberry at her as he picks his sunglasses off the ground and uses his shirt to wipe off the sand and dirt.

Bethany steps forward, tucking a few strands of hair behind her ears, one of her nervous habits. “Midnight Sun,” she says with a tiny smile. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Oh! You, too!” Merrill says. Gesturing to Carver, who has yet to say anything, she asks, “Who’s the grumpy one?”

“I’m not—” Carver starts, but he cuts himself off at the sound of his siblings’ snickering. “Fantom Fighter,” he says, his face heating up. “Two Fs.” He turns around and gestures to the two large black Fs painted on the back of his jean jacket. Then, gesturing to Bethany, he adds, “I’m her twin brother.”

Bethany chuckles. “And we’re all siblings.”

Merrill cups her hands over her face. “Oh, my goodness.”

Marian clears her throat. “Anyway,” she says, side-eyeing Garrett, “why are you guys even here?”

Garrett throws his hands up. “Don’t look at me! I am but a slave to the whims of our younger siblings!”

Bethany and Carver exchange embarrassed glances, then both turn to glare at Garrett. Marian sighs. They’re all a mess.

“Oh, well, I shouldn’t keep you,” Merrill says, patting the side of her motorcycle. “Feathers and I can get moving, if you all need to leave.”

That catches Marian’s attention. “Wait, you’re traveling alone?” She hadn’t seen anyone else around, but she’d assumed that Merrill had at least one companion somewhere, perhaps inside the shitty convenience store connected to the gas station.

Merrill nods. “I was raised by neutrals,” she says—people who live outside Battery City, but don’t openly rebel against BLI. “I didn’t become a Killjoy until just recently. I haven’t really found a group yet.”

That explains why Marian’s never seen her before. Neutrals tend to stay out of the way unless they run a business, like their friend Varric.

“That’s dangerous, you know,” Carver says, but he sounds less matter-of-fact and more concerned. “You’re a lot more likely to get ghosted by yourself.”

Merrill sighs. “I know. But what am I supposed to do? Invite myself to tag along with the next Killjoy gang I see?”

Garrett shrugs. “Why not? You could tag along with us.”

To be fair, Marian had been thinking that, too, in the back of her mind, but it still stuns her to actually hear it spoken.

Merrill’s eyes widen with hope. “That would be wonderful, but I wouldn’t want to impose…”

Instinctively, Marian and her siblings all turn to look at each other, none of them saying anything, just glancing back and forth with various facial expressions ranging from embarrassment to uncertainty to excitement. Finally, Marian turns back to Merrill and says, “You wouldn’t be imposing. We’d be glad to have you join us.”

Merrill gasps. “Oh, thank you! You won’t regret it, I promise!”

Bethany smiles. “Welcome to the Birds of Passage, Daisy.”

(At the use of Merrill’s Killjoy name, Marian briefly wonders just how long her siblings had been eavesdropping before Merrill noticed them.)

“We’re headed to one of the outer Zones for the evening,” Carver explains. “You could follow us on your bike until we find a place to set up camp.”

“Oh, perfect!” Merrill says. “I’ve been meaning to head that way. Too many Dracs this close to Bat City.”

When the Hawkes climb back into the Camaro, Marian steals a glance at Merrill in the rearview mirror, watches as their newfound companion unties a green bandana from her belt loop and wraps it around her head to keep her hair out of her face. When Marian steps on the gas pedal and tears out of the Dead Pegasus parking lot, the roar of the motorcycle lets her know that Deadly Daisy is right behind them.

—

Fenris doesn’t sleep well that night.

Granted, Fenris doesn’t sleep well most nights, but for some reason, the night after Bethany gets shot in the leg is particularly bad. Maybe it’s the hard concrete floor of the warehouse, which no amount of blankets or cushions can completely alleviate. Maybe it’s the fact that he’s lying only a few feet away from Garrett, who sleeps like a log and snores like a chainsaw. Maybe it’s the pain in his shoulder from an injury a few days prior.

Or maybe it’s the fact that tonight, his nightmares are worse than usual. Tonight, when he dreams, he is alone, but worse than that: the bodies of his fellow Killjoys lie dead at his feet, glassy eyes wide, their hands still on the triggers of their guns. Draculoids—more Dracs than he’s ever seen at one time—close in on him, zombielike in the way they reach for him, pull at him from every angle, pin him to the ground and snarl in his face. He’d fight if he could, fight with everything he has, but his body is stiff and frozen, and no amount of willpower can force even his mouth to move. For a man with an aversion to closeness and touching, and painful tattoos from BL/ind experimentation, the sensation of being trapped makes him feel like he’s about to vomit.

It’s when they pull out a Drac mask and shove it over his head that he wakes up gasping for breath.

It takes a few minutes for his body to relax and his heart to stop pounding in his ears. Fenris can see the faintest bit of morning light trickling through the windows—he’d guess that it’s around five o’clock—and concludes that attempting to get a decent amount of sleep will probably be a fruitless endeavor. Sighing and forcing himself to sit upright, he reaches into the small backpack beside him and pulls out a Killjoy-made magazine that they snagged at the last gas stop.

The zine is filled with artwork of desert landscape and rebels fighting BL/ind, accompanied by writing—a few short stories and poems, a few articles and essays, all about the highs and lows of revolution. It’s a perfect representation of life in the Zones, every copy made by hand, since few (if any) Killjoys have access to a working printer. However many were made, probably no more than twenty, the artists and authors must have had to redraw and rewrite their work. Two Polaroid photos are taped to the inside cover, one of a Dead Pegasus gas station at sunset, the other of two female Killjoys kissing, with their names listed at the bottom. There are probably different photos in every copy, likely taken from the same photographer, someone lucky enough to have access to a working Polaroid camera (though Fenris concedes that it’s actually not too difficult to find batteries out here, though they might be half-empty).

He’s so focused on flipping through the zine that he doesn’t realize anyone else is awake—at least, not until the sound of someone sitting down next to him nearly makes him jump out of his skin.

“Sorry,” Anders whispers, holding a hand up. Behind him, the orange light of the sunrise creates a halo around his blond head. “I assume you couldn’t sleep, either?”

Fenris makes a noncommittal grunt, enough to give Anders his answer, but curt enough to hopefully get his I don’t want to talk about it message across. He’d rather not have to even think about the nightmares that his subconscious assaults him with, let alone explain them.

“Alright,” Anders says with an understanding nod. He glances over at the zine, skimming the page Fenris has it open to with clear interest.

Fenris holds it out for him to take. “You can look through it.”

Anders hesitates for a moment before obliging. Fenris watches his face as he flips through the pages. The brilliant poetry and detailed artwork seem to fill him with awe, similar to what Fenris felt browsing the zine’s contents, but there’s something else, too, something deeper—something like longing.

“I wanted to tell you something,” Anders says finally, slowly closing the booklet. “I just remembered, and I think you deserve to know.” He glances over at the windows, and the sun shines on his pale face, reflecting off of his gold earring. Without looking at Fenris, he says, “You have a sister, named Varania.”

Fenris blinks in surprise. A sister? Anders apparently knew him when they both lived in Battery City, before BLI wiped Fenris’s mind—or reprogrammed him, as they like to call it. It’s times like these that make him feel like Anders knows him better than he himself does. “And you’re just now telling me this?” Fenris says in an attempt to mask his bewilderment. A sister. He has a sister.

“You only mentioned her once or twice,” Anders says. “It was the last thing on my mind. But something reminded me of it this morning, so I figured I’d tell you.” He shrugs. “I don’t know much else about her. But I know she’s still alive, or she was by the time I left Bat City.”

Sister. Sister. Sister. His brain repeats it so often that it no longer really feels like a word. He knows he’d be angry if Anders had kept this hidden from him, but at the same time, he’s not really sure what he’s supposed to do with the information. She’s probably still in Battery City, which means it’s too late and far too dangerous to go back and search for her, or even attempt to write a letter to her.

Still, he feels like he has to say something. “Well,” he mumbles, clearing his throat awkwardly. “Thank you. For telling me.” Then, tilting his head to the side, he adds, “May I ask what reminded you?”

Anders sighs and pushes a few loose strands of hair out of his face. “She appeared in a dream last night.”

Fenris doesn’t expect it to hurt, but it does, just a little. To think that he doesn’t even know what his own sister looks like, while a man who barely knows anything about her sees her in his dreams.

Abruptly, Anders hands the zine back to him and stands up, covering his eyes with a hand to block out the sun. Fenris glances down at the page he left open: a poem written in an angry hand, calling for revolution, calling for justice.

—

Varric Tethras is what people in the Zones call a “neutral.” He doesn’t wear the flashy clothes, he goes by his real name, and he tends to stay in one spot minding his own business rather than get into fights with Draculoids. He has his own little gas station convenience store in Zone Three and is an expert at aiding Killjoys without giving BLI a reason to go after him. In short, he’s the perfect person to go to when there’s trouble, and there’s always trouble.

The trouble this time has nothing to do with BL/ind, for once; about five miles away from Varric’s shop, the Camaro broke down, so Marian had to jump start it using Merrill’s motorcycle, and now they’re hanging out in the store while she tries to fix the car.

Garrett frowns as he glances out the window at the setting sun. “We might have to camp out here for the night, Varric.” It’s not the first time, and he knows Varric doesn’t mind, but he still feels bad about it.

Varric waves a hand nonchalantly. “Yeah, I figured,” he says from behind the store counter, where he seems to be digging through some junk he’s stored underneath. Varric is a whopping four-foot-eight, so the chair he uses to reach the counter makes most other people who sit in it look like giants. Merrill finds a particular delight in this, and she’s so sweet that anyone would feel terrible asking her to get off of it, even Marian, which has been an especially interesting phenomenon to witness.

As if on cue, the front door swings open, and there stands Marian, covered in grease and wearing nothing but a sports bra and ripped black shorts. “I’m turning in for the night,” she says as she waltzes into the shop, letting the door slam shut behind her. “Round two starts in the morning.”

Garrett watches as she heads into the bathroom to wash herself off. Carver came in from practicing his shooting about a half hour ago (and is currently sitting on the floor eating potato chips), so now they’re all inside for the evening. Bethany’s been drawing quietly, her brow furrowed in concentration as she sits on the worn couch in one of the back rooms, and Garrett and Merrill have been making their own fun out front. The store is Varric’s home, so he had to get creative with the few extra rooms.

Garrett is wandering aimlessly through the little aisles, examining various snacks, all stamped with the BLI logo, when he hears the front door open, and in walks possibly the most gorgeous Killjoy Garrett has ever seen.

The first thing he notices is the shock of silver-white hair, the way the undercut contrasts against the man’s brown skin. The dim light of the store reflects against his leather jacket and his surprisingly wide eyes. When he takes a few steps forward, a chain hanging from his black jeans—yes, jeans, in the desert—makes a jangling sound, and his heavy footsteps suggest combat boots. He looks like he just walked out of a mosh pit, but that’s not what intrigues Garrett the most. No, what really catches his attention is the pale white tattoos that stretch from the man’s bottom lip down into his chest and out to the tips of his fingers—they almost seem to glow. “Varric?” the man calls in a deep voice as he surveys the area.

Varric pops his head out from the back of the store. “Oh-ho! Long time no see, Wolfy!”

The man rolls his eyes at the nickname and leans awkwardly against one of the snack aisles. “I see you are having a sleepover,” he says slowly as he eyes each of the Birds suspiciously (save for Marian, who is still washing up, thankfully). Bethany walks out into the store to see him better, and Garrett flashes him his best good-natured smile, causing the man to raise an eyebrow at him.

“Their car broke down not far from here,” Varric explains as he walks out from behind the store counter. “And because I’m just so charitable, I let them stay for the night.” That’s his way of saying that they’re friends.

“Hm.” The man makes his way through the store, seemingly on edge, like he’s keenly aware of the way the Birds glance his way out of the corners of their eyes, pretending that they’re not looking at him. Eventually, Garrett gives up on trying to be inconspicuous and plops down in a chair pushed up against one wall, allowing himself to stare openly. He’s never been good with subtlety.

Suddenly Marian’s voice rings out through the shop. “Who’s this?”

Varric clears his throat. “Birds of Passage, allow me to formally introduce you to the Painted Wolf. He’s kind of new, doesn’t have a gang to roll with yet.”

The Painted Wolf looks away, not making eye contact as he wanders into another aisle where he can’t as easily be seen. “I think I would prefer to keep it that way. No offense.”

After a few beats of silence, Merrill says from her place on top of the chair behind the store counter, “You have tattoos, like me.”

Instinctively, almost as if he was expecting it, the Wolf replies, “But you received yours willingly, I’ll wager.”

Merrill blinks in surprise. “Well. Yes, I did. You mean you didn’t?”

The Painted Wolf does not respond, just runs a hand through his hair and takes a breath through his nose.

Garrett frowns a little and stands back up, making his way over to where Marian is still standing in front of the bathroom door, her arms crossed. “Don’t tell me,” she says quietly. “You think we should let him come with us.”

Garrett shrugs. “Well, why not? He doesn’t have anyone. And he’s…intriguing.”

Marian rolls her eyes. “You’re just saying that because you think he’s hot.”

“I do not,” Garrett lies, but his face heats up, giving him away. “Okay, well, maybe I do, but that’s not the only reason.”

Marian shakes her head. “He doesn’t seem too keen on making friends. I mean, he just said he’d rather be alone. Also, what you call ‘intriguing’ I call ‘suspicious.’ The man’s got secrets.”

“So do we,” Garrett says, though at the moment he can’t think of anything particularly damning. If nothing else, he’s sure Carver’s got something embarrassing.

“You being gay doesn’t count as a secret when you gawk at any man that isn’t related to us,” Marian says, a tiny smirk forming on her face.

“That’s not what I meant!” Garrett says. He can feel his face turning even redder. He needs to find a way to get Marian on his side, and if he can’t do it with emotion, then maybe he can do it with logic. “Seriously, I think we should talk to him. He’s a new Killjoy, but he looks way more experienced than most newbies. He might even be older than us. I’d be willing to bet he knows something about BL/ind. I just think he’d be good to have on our side. And it’s not like he has to stay with us forever.”

Marian seems to think it over for a long time. It’s different than it was with Merrill. Unlike the Wolf, Merrill had expressed a clear interest in finding a group to fall in with, and the Birds just happened to be the first ones to click with her. Also, Marian is a lesbian and about ten times more suspicious of men than she is of women as a general rule, which is fair, but it makes these things difficult sometimes. Finally, she says, “Fine. If you can convince him, then I’m game. I can go tell the others.” She cracks her knuckles. “At the very least, he looks like he knows something worth knowing.”

Garrett holds his hands up. “Well, hopefully you won’t have to beat it out of him, so you can stop with the threatening looks.”

Marian snorts. “Just asserting my dominance, my dear little brother.” She reaches forward and musses his hair.

Garrett shakes his head as he starts to head over to the other side of the store, where the Wolf is standing. He doesn’t bother pointing out that she’s only older than him by nine minutes, because she’ll hang those nine minutes over his head until the day they die.

The Painted Wolf looks up from the magazine he’s been flipping through. “Let me guess,” he says. “You want me to join your gang.”

Garrett smiles sheepishly. “What can I say? We think you’d be a good addition to the team.”

The Wolf frowns and puts the magazine back on the rack. “You barely know anything about me.”

“I know you’re a Killjoy traveling alone, and that’s enough for me,” Garrett says, and it’s the truth. Killjoys stick together. It’s the law of the desert. It’s how they survive.

The Wolf narrows his eyes. “I already said I prefer to be alone.”

Garrett folds his arms over his chest, allowing his knowledge of the Zones to give him confidence. “That’s how I can tell you’re new,” he says. “Rule number one of making it as a Killjoy: find a gang. Hordes of Dracs are less likely to target larger groups, and even if they do, you have a better chance of making it out alive when you’re not alone. If you watch our backs, we’ll watch yours.”

The Wolf nods slowly, as if this just confirmed something he already suspected. “You watch our backs, we’ll watch yours,” he repeats to himself. “It’s...a sentiment I am not entirely familiar with.”

“I figured you were from Bat City,” Garrett says, stroking his beard thoughtfully. (Carver and Marian like to make fun of him when he does that. Marian says it makes him look like an asshole.)

The Wolf nods again. “The sense of camaraderie was one of the things that drew me to the Zones, and to the Killjoy lifestyle specifically. But until now, I suppose I have been too wary to actively engage in it.”

Garrett raises an eyebrow, careful not to show too much excitement. “Until now, you say?”

The Wolf gives the softest chuckle, his mouth curving briefly upward. “Perhaps you have a point about me traveling alone. BL/ind knows that I left Battery City; no doubt they’re looking for me. It...would be prudent to join a larger group, at least for a little while.”

Garrett allows himself the beginnings of a grin. “It definitely would.”

The Wolf clears his throat. “I...never got your name,” he says, fingers playing mindlessly with the hem of his jacket.

“Firebird,” Garrett replies, holding a hand out for him to shake.

The Wolf looks at it for a moment before responding. “Well, then, Firebird,” he says slowly, “if you’ll have me, I would like to travel with you and your gang.”

“I certainly would love to have you,” Garrett replies, only realizing how strange it sounds once the words are out of his mouth. His face heats up. “I...I didn’t mean it like—”

Across the room, Marian calls, “Real smooth.” Garrett flips her off.

An awkward little smile forms on the Wolf’s face. “I know what you meant,” he says, but if Garrett isn’t mistaken, he’s blushing, too.

—

A few days later, Varric, whose talents include knowing everything that’s happening in the Zones, says, “So I got a tip that there’s someone after you guys.”

Isabela rolls her eyes and leans against the counter, conscious of the way her ripped white jean shorts ride up her ass—she’s doing it on purpose, and she peers over her shoulder to make sure Marian’s watching. “Someone’s always after us, Varric. This isn’t new.”

“No, like a major someone,” Varric replies. “Does the name Meredith Stannard mean anything to any of you?”

The Birds exchange glances from their various positions throughout the shop. They’ve all heard the name, but only Fenris and Anders seem to know who she is. Makes sense, since they’re the only ones who have actually lived in Battery City and seen BL/ind’s inner workings up close.

“She’s a Scarecrow, right?” Marian says from behind Isabela. She steps forward and takes a large sip out of her Neptune Pop can. “Isn’t that all we need to know?”

“She isn’t just any old Scarecrow,” Fenris says as he examines the shelves for more food. “She is one of the Director’s favorites—very high-ranking, always flanked by six or more Draculoids and sometimes other Scarecrows. I have known a few BL/ind workers who do not wish to kill, but do so because they fear the consequences of disobeying.” He shakes his head, speaking calmly but severely. “Meredith is not one of them. She kills out of hate and nothing less. She views it as her duty, a mission she will carry out until the day she dies. I suggest taking her seriously. She has slaughtered many of you.”

The way he refers to Killjoys isn’t lost on Isabela. It’s been a little less than a year, she thinks, since he left Battery City and joined the rebels in the Zones, but he still seems hesitant to identify himself as one of them. He still refers to them as you instead of us.

His words send a brief chill down Isabela’s spine, but she shakes it off and looks up at Marian to gauge her reaction. Unsurprisingly, she doesn’t seem fazed.

“It doesn’t matter how many of us she’s killed,” she says. The piercings in her left ear gleam in the light from the windows. “She bleeds just like the rest of us, and she’ll die just like the rest of us.”

Varric holds a hand up. “Fair point, I suppose. Just don’t say I didn’t warn you. My source says Meredith considers you guys one of the most dangerous gangs in the Zones. That means one of her biggest priorities is wiping you out. Just...be careful.”

“Careful is my middle name,” Marian says as she finishes her Neptune Pop, crushes the can in one hand, and launches it across the store, causing Anders to duck because of his ridiculously long bird legs. The can lands in the garbage bin with a loud crash.

Marian grins. It’s lopsided, and her teeth are crooked and stained with soda, but it just makes Isabela want to kiss that alluring, imperfect mouth even more.

“I thought your middle name was Selene,” Merrill says from her designated spot in Varric’s chair. They call it the Tallening Chair.

Marian’s face softens, and her cheeks turn pink as she gently explains to Merrill that it’s a figure of speech. Isabela watches in silence until Marian suddenly turns to her, lightly smacks her ass, and says with a playful glint in her eyes, “Well, back to business.”

Isabela smirks. Works every time.

—

It only takes half an hour for Marian’s nonchalance about Meredith Stannard to come back and bite her in the ass.

“Guys!”

Garrett bursts through the front door of Varric’s shop, his eyes wide and panicked. He’d been outside restocking the trunk with supplies. “I think we’ve got company.”

Marian peers outside, and the rest of the Birds do the same. Sure enough, veering into the parking lot are two white vans with the Better Living Industries symbol emblazoned on their doors.

Shit.

In a flash, they all whip out their ray guns and rush outside just in time to see a horde of Dracs pouring out of the vans. Then, from the passenger seat of one of the vans, a woman climbs out. She’s tall, blonde, and middle-aged, and her eyes seem to pierce right through them.

“Ah,” she says as the Dracs line up behind her, brandishing their plain white ray guns. “The notorious Birds of Passage, or so you call yourselves.” As she speaks, she pulls out her own weapon and seems to aim it straight at Marian. “It looks as though you’ve been expecting me.”

For a moment, the two groups just stand there silently, revolvers pointed at one another, a classic example of a Mexican standoff. It feels like the air has been sucked out of the atmosphere, like the atoms themselves have stopped moving completely. Then Meredith snaps her fingers with her free hand, and the desert explodes in gunfire.

——

killjoy names: garrett - firebird marian - kitty hawke bethany - midnight sun carver - fantom fighter merrill - deadly daisy anders - nuclear blonde isabela - storm chaser fenris - the painted wolf

[let-it-raines]

Betting on the Bullseye (16/?)

Summary: Emma Swan loses a bet that means she has to ask her celebrity crush to be her date to her office’s annual fundraising gala. Killian Jones is that celebrity crush. She expects all kinds of humiliation and for her dignity to be completely lost. What she doesn’t expect is for him to say yes.

Rating: Mature

A/N: I didn’t have to edit, Nonnie, so sometime this weekend turns out to be Friday night! Happy weekend, you guys!

AO3: Beginning | Current 

Tumblr: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 

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Over the course of June, Killian’s sure that he flies between Los Angeles and Boston more times than any other passenger. He’s not really working consistently while Emma is, so he’s constantly loading up on a plane, racking up miles every time just to spend a day or two in Boston before he’s flying back for a meeting or a pre-made appointment. Sometimes he has to simply show up an event, let people see him wearing clothes, and then he can leave. He thinks those are his least favorite, but as much as acting is his job, that is too.

Sometimes he really wonders about his life. It’s definitely not normal. He knows that, but he’s honestly used to it. He was comfortable with it, but that was before he fell in love with a woman who lives three thousand miles away.

(Two thousand nine hundred and ninety-nine miles to be exact. He looked it up.)

Honestly, though, he’d spend his life on a plane just to be with her. Will calls him sappy (a sappy wanker actually), and while he might be, he doesn’t really care. It’s definitely worth it.

Emma is worth it.

Damn, okay, maybe he is sappy.

Of course, with his frequent flying and the few posts he’s made about Emma online, never showing her face or saying her name, the amount of pictures of him on the internet has increased drastically. With that, journalists and paparazzi have begun to investigate where he’s going, often finding him in Boston with Emma when they’re out to eat or running outside. Last week they went to the Red Sox game when they were playing the Yankees, bringing her friends with them, and he couldn’t even begin to count the amount of people that were waiting outside of the stadium when he left. What could possibly be so interesting about him walking out of a baseball game he’ll never know.

According to Robin, they’ve recognized Emma from their first date at the charity gala, and with every new picture that’s taken, there’s some other bogus article about them, the information supposedly coming from their close friends. Considering that everything about it is bullshit and that none of their friends would ever talk to a journalist, he’s not too concerned about it all. Really, everything is gossip, just articles that are made for clicks, and the only concerns he truly has about all of it is Emma and her well-being.

She seems to be fine, says that she’s fine, and is always telling him that she understood what she was getting into to a certain extent. It hasn’t been as bad as it once had been in the past, his lack of released projects likely helping with that, and he’s never been so thankful for not having worked as much as he usually does. She did say there were some photographers outside of her apartment last week, which isn’t a shock since they managed to find it the night of their first date, but that it hadn’t been enough to make her uncomfortable.

He, however, is entirely uncomfortable with anyone trailing after Emma and her home. He’s the one who chose this profession and everything that comes with it, and while he doesn’t like it, he should be the one to have to take all of the displeasure and annoyances that come with it, not his girlfriend when she’s simply trying to go throughout her life like she always has.

Emma’s flying out to him tomorrow, though, claiming that she wants to spend some time at the beach for the weekend. She took Friday off, has been working her arse off all week to make up for it too, and he’s excited to see her while also being able to spend time in his own home. He’s not saying his bed is more comfortable than Emma’s, but his bed is definitely more comfortable than Emma’s.

She admits to it as well.

His bed is bloody comfortable.

“You have issues, man,” Will whistles, grabbing a bottle of water out of the fridge and settling down on a stool while Killian continues to wash their plates from lunch.

“What issues do I have?”

“You’ve been in here scrubbing three plates for over fifteen minutes. And you’re just going to put them in the washer too. I don’t see the point.”

Killian shrugs, rinsing his plate off one more time before drying it with a towel. “It’s a force of habit. Didn’t have a dishwasher growing up and had to do things by hand. I’ve never quite gotten out of the habit. Also, you’re not supposed to insult the hands that feed you.”

“Before you eat, mate. It’s after. You can’t spit in my food now.” “I’ll save it for next time. What time do you have to be down at the bar?”

“Seven. I’m working until closing, which always sucks on Wednesdays. Who the hell stays out until closing on Wednesdays?”

“People who need something to drink about or who don’t have normal jobs. Or kids. So, really, most people in this city.”

“True,” Will sighs, taking another sip of his water. “I’m still waiting for you to give me a fancy job like Rob where I can finally work semi-normal hours.” “I told you. Come up with something you can do, and I’ll let you do it. Though you do serve a mean drink.” He opens up the dishwasher and puts the plates inside, checking to see how much longer until he can run the thing. “Is the match still going on?”

“Yeah, it’s in the beginnings of the fifth set. I think Rob is going to pull his hair out. But not for him. Rol has apparently been freaking out for the whole tournament. Tennis is his new thing, says Messi and Ronaldo are old news.” “Ah, to be young and switch interests so quickly.”

“Bloody hell,” Robin groans from the living room, loud enough for them to hear in the kitchen. “Why would you do that? You should have gone down the line instead of cross court.”

“Do we need to go save him before he rips all of his hair out and breaks your TV?”

“I don’t care about his hair, but I do care about my TV.”

“I can hear you,” Robin yells, the displeasure in his voice obvious. “You try having a son who’s freaking out about this match while he’s supposed to be learning how to use correct grammar at school.”

“I’ll get to working on that,” Will jokes, sliding back in his stool while Killian grabs himself a water bottle as well. “Though I don’t really think a lass will want to have a kid with me just so I can yell at the TV. I think that’s the opposite of what they want.”

“Just shut up and come watch the match,” Robin groans, and Killian shakes his head back and forth while laughter rumbles through his stomach.

“You two are ridiculous.”

-/-

Emma: I just boarded the plane. See you soon! Is there a way you can make the rain forecast go away?

Kilian: Let me just use my magical powers, and I’ll do that for you.

Emma: You’re da bomb diggity.

Emma: Pretend I didn’t type that.

Killian: Never. Be safe, love.

Emma: I shall not wear my seatbelt and will walk around during turbulence.

Killian: The definition of safety.

He goes back to lounging on his couch and flipping through channels on the TV. It’s been a long time since he was this bored, and he’s contemplating asking Elsa to bring Aiden over to the house just so that he has someone to talk to. Of course, he’s thinking about having a baby for his conversational partner, so he’s not sure how good of an idea that is.

Elsa would be here too, but he honestly wasn’t thinking about having her to talk to. He may be a horrible brother-in-law. And friend. So both. He’s terrible with both.

He’ll have to go see them sometime next week. He’s saw Liam when they went to dinner Monday night, but Elsa had been going to spend time with her friends. Maybe Emma will want to go over there this weekend, or they can come here and spend the day at the beach with them.

If he makes the rain go away. He’s supposed to be doing that.

He really might be bored enough to be delusional.

Sighing, he keeps flipping through the channels and leaves it on Friends, knowing if anything that can just play in the background while he fiddles around on his phone. He might need to pick up a new hobby other than reading and exercising. And he’s pretty sure that exercising is technically part of his job.

Does he really only have one hobby? Well, taking his boat out must count. So that’s two.

He’s got to work on this apparently.

Slowly but surely the hours pass as he alternates between watching TV and wandering around his house, cleaning up and straightening anything that’s out of place. If he wasn’t always traveling, he’d get a dog to keep him company, and he definitely spent at least two hours looking at different breeds just now.

He wants them all.

His phone buzzes to tell him there’s someone at the gate, and when he checks the video feed, it’s Emma punching in the code and walking through with her weekend bag slung over her shoulder. He immediately gets up from the couch and walks to his front door, swinging it open and running outside to catch Emma before she bothers going through the garage.

“Oh hey,” she begins when she sees him twisting her body at the sound of the door opening. “Were you watching the cameras because – ”

He doesn’t let her finish, grabbing onto her waist and pulling her to him with his lips, effectively quieting her words while she gasps into her mouth. It’s only been a week, but he’s been anxiously awaiting her being here for the entire time. Missing her isn’t getting any easier. If anything, he thinks it’s getting a bit harder. She tastes like coffee and minty gum, a combination that’s not great, but he doesn’t really care with the way she’s sliding her lips over his and threading her fingers into his hair, her nails scratching at the sensitive spots on his scalp. God, he loves her a ridiculous amount, and he’ll never not be thankful that she allows him to be a part of her life.

“Were you watching the cameras?” she sighs breathlessly when she pulls back, resting her forehead against his, her skin ridiculously warm while a breeze blows past them, the impending storm picking up. “Because I can’t decide if that’s sweet or creepy.”

“Just be quiet, Swan,” he laughs, gliding his lips over hers again and sucking on her upper lip. He quite likes the little noise she makes when he does it, and he’d like to hear it as often as possible. “And I wasn’t watching. My phone sends me a message whenever there’s someone at the gate.” “Fancy.” “I try to be. You want to come inside?” “Why, Mr. Jones,” she begins in an exaggerated accent, “you have to buy me dinner first before I come inside. I am a lady. I can’t just go home with any man.”

“Did you watch a period piece on the plane?” “Absolutely I did.” “That’s what I thought.”

The moment they get inside and have the door closed, Emma drops her bag to the ground and wraps her arms around his neck while he backs her up to the front door, rolling his hips against hers while his mouth moves over hers with more force and more intensity than it did outside. This is how most of their reunions go, hurriedly greeting each other and making up for all of the lost time that they’ve missed while apart. She’s bloody intoxicating in the way the she feels against him, the way that her tongue feels as it dances with his, and with the way that her hands move along his shoulders and up and down his sides, snaking up under his shirt at the same time this his hands find the warm skin of her stomach.

“I smell like airport.” “You know I don’t care. I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” she sighs before gasping as his lips trace along her jaw, nipping slightly and soothing every bite with his tongue. He doesn’t want to leave a mark, won’t leave one, but she likes when he teases her. He likes it too.

“That seemed like the longest flight of all time.” “You weren’t…ah fuck, you weren’t even on it.”

“I was waiting for you.” “Again, it sounds creepy without context.”

He chuckles against her ear before kissing the lobe all the while his thumbs ghost over her nipples through her bra. He can feel the lace underneath his touch, and it sends a shiver down his spine. She’s not usually one for pretty little underwear, so he’s not going to complain when he’s gifted with this.

“You talk far too much when I’m supposed to be taking your breath away.” “Do a better job,” she teases him, resting her forehead against his shoulder while she maneuvers herself to wrap her legs around his waist, grinding her core into his so that they both groan. “You can take me upstairs now.” “Not feeling like walking?” “Not at all.”

He walks her down the hallway and to the stairs all the while her lips trail across his jaw and down his neck, the pressure at the base of his spine continuously building and building and building to the point where it’s almost painful not to be inside of her right now.

“Oh my God, KJ,” she gasps when he stops to readjust her in his arms on the middle landing, “don’t you dare drop me.”

“I’m not going to, love. That’s why I’m adjusting you. This isn’t as easy as you’d think when my entire body is thrumming with frustration.”

“Thrumming?” “It’s a word.”

“Yeah, but it’s kind of weird word when you think about it. I mean – ”

“Emma, my love,” he interrupts continuing to take the steps upstairs since he’s now confident he won’t drop her, “I will absolutely sit with you and talk about language in about twenty minutes, but I need you to not think about the origins of the word thrumming right now.”

“Oh you think you’re going to last that long when you’re thrumming with desire?”

He drops Emma on the bed the moment he’s close enough to it, letting her bounce just because she’s being a smart arse, but she doesn’t seem at all deterred by that. “You are driving me mad.” “I know, I know,” she squeals as he peppers kisses across her face while undoing his zipper. “I just feel like humming would be a better choice there and – ”

He cuts her off with a kiss. It’s all he can do when she’s in a playful mood like this and wants to have an absolutely ridiculous conversation with him when he really does feel as if he may burst from frustration, desire, or whatever the hell Emma wants to call it. Honestly, he loves her, but he missed her like mad and needs this right now. And Emma’s very obviously not protesting with the way she whimpers into his mouth.

Despite their brief interlude, it’s a rush of clothing being removed and bodies melding into each other just as their lips have been. She feels fucking fantastic wrapped around him as she moves up and down above him, and he has to briefly close his eyes with the pleasure of it all. They’ve truly gotten into a groove as of late, finally having time to learn more about each other’s bodies and pleasures as they spend more time together, and he can absolutely feel all of the proof of that right now.

It’s honestly like heaven.

Emma falls apart before he does despite how keyed up he’s been, but he doesn’t last long after her, not with the way she feels pulsing (thrumming) around him and the way she whispers his name over and over again into his ear while her nails dig into his shoulders. It was quick and a bit messy, maybe even a little harsh, but as they both rest against each other while catching their breaths, he wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Hold on, darling,” he whispers, moving her off of him while he walks into the bathroom on still shaky legs to clean himself up and get a wash cloth for Emma. He gently cleans her up before pulling on his boxers and tossing the cloth in the laundry bin as he settles back into bed where Emma is still stretched out. “You not going to move, Swan?”

“In a minute,” she yawns, slowly sitting up and propping herself up on her elbows. “The jet lag is hitting me right now. Like, hard. I think I was run over by the plane at some point.” “Why don’t you go to sleep?” “I’m trying,” she yawns again, slowly getting up from the bed and stretching her limbs out the slightest bit. “Will you be, like, the best man in the entire world and go get my bag from downstairs? I’m just going to wear your pajamas, but I need my toothbrush.”

“I bought you one to keep here when I went shopping the other day. And I stocked up on some more of your shampoo.”

“Is it the – ”

“Yep, it’s the electronic kind that you and your special teeth like.”

“Bless you,” she sighs, coming over to him and cupping her cheeks before slanting her lips over his while his hands rest at her hips. “I love you, and I know I’m, like, deliriously tired, but that is the most romantic thing anyone has ever done for me.” “Yeah, we’re definitely going to have to work on that then.” He gently slaps her arse while their lips are still ghosting over each other. “Go get dressed and try out that toothbrush, Swan.”

“I most definitely will.”

-/-

He’s standing in his kitchen drinking his mug of coffee the next morning when Emma stumbles down the stairs with all of the grace she usually possesses as she walks over his pajama pants that are far too long on her. Usually she rolls them up, but she must have just decided to take the risk of tripping and walked down the stairs like that. Honestly, he’s not even really sure if she’s actually fully awake right now with how sleep rumpled she is.

“G’morning, love.” “Morning,” she gruffs, walking toward him and taking his coffee out of his hands only to take a sip and scrunch up her face. “This is disgusting.” “That’s because it’s made for me and not for you. You don’t like black coffee. I do.”

“You’re weird,” she moans, resting her head against his chest and wrapping her arms around his waist after putting the mug down. She must be exhausted, all of her sleep making her groggier than usual, and he lets her rest there, rubbing his hand up and down her back while her hair gets caught in his mouth. Her hair is really something else. “I’m tired.”

“Really? I couldn’t tell.” She weakly hits his back before pulling away from him. “Sorry for taking your coffee. I’m going to make an actual, drinkable cup now, and you can keep your nasty one to yourself.”

“Sounds like a plan, Stan.”

“Ha,” Emma laughs, her eyes lighting up, “I knew that I’d get you to say it!”

“Aye, Swan, you’ve bested me with your odd little sayings.”

“Yes, exactly.” She pokes him in the stomach before moving around him and preparing her own cup. “I said bloody hell the other day, so we obviously both have problems.”

It’s nice to have a slow, quiet morning with Emma. There’s no impending plane ride tomorrow, no immediate rush to do everything they absolutely can in twenty-four hours, so they sit in his living room, drinking their coffee and eating the bagels he had delivered this morning. Usually he’d cook something, but he wasn’t feeling like it this morning, figuring he could just order in while Emma was sleeping upstairs.

He really likes having her here, and while he knows it’s far too soon to even suggest it, he wishes it could be a permanent thing. He keeps thinking about it, though, thinking about the fact that Emma could have more than just her toothbrush here.

She’s laughing at the beginning of the Hangover, something he’d like to get to experience more often, and while he wonders why that movie is playing before noon on a Friday, he’s not going to question it when he can already feel his stomach rumbling with laughter as well. Suddenly Emma’s phone starts ringing, the vibrations causing it to move across the coffee table, and she leans forward to pick it up. “Hello?” she answers, adjusting her legs and tucking them underneath her. “Oh hey, Rubes. Rubes? Hey, Ruby?” she soothes, her voice calm yet firm, and he immediately mutes the television so Emma can hear. “Ruby, you have to stop cursing and tell me what’s wrong. Are you okay? Is Marg okay?”

She looks over at him with fear in her eyes, the green brighter than usual, but he can see them relax while Ruby tells her whatever she tells her. He can’t hear, the sounds muffled, but if Emma wanted him to, she’d put in on speaker.

“Oh, Rubes,” Emma sighs, getting up from the couch and pacing the room, “I’m so sorry. Do you want to talk about what happened?”

He has absolutely no idea what’s happening, what’s wrong with Ruby, but he watches Emma move back and forth in front of his television, running her hand through her hair multiple times all the while biting her lip. She doesn’t look upset, not truly, but she’s definitely not happy. The fact that she’s not crying soothes him in the fact that he doesn’t think someone has died or been in an accident.

He wants to know because he’s curious, but he also wants to know because he wants everyone to be okay. He’s really come to care about Emma’s friends.

“I’m going to be home Sunday night. I promise. I’ll come over to your place, or you can come over to mine. It doesn’t matter, but why don’t you go spend some time with Marg? I know you probably want to be alone, but Marg really does help. And I know for a fact that she’s got a bunch of good junk food in her freezer. I love you, Rubes.”

Ruby obviously says a few more things, Emma nodding her head to all of them, before she’s hanging up her phone, placing in on the coffee table, and then coming to straddle his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing his cheek.

He rubs his hand up and down her back in what he hopes are calming circles. “What’s wrong, Swan? You okay?”

“Fine,” she mumbles into his skin before pulling back and settling back on his thighs. He gently take her hand in his, bringing her wrist to his lips and kissing the skin there several times. “I mean, I feel really shitty for being here because Ruby and Victor broke up and I’m not there to comfort her. She took the day off of work and everything, and Ruby is not one for moping. But she’s moping. I think we really all hoped it was going to work out for them this time.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Why?”

“You’re not home because you’re here with me. I’m sorry for Ruby, and I’m sorry you can’t be there with her.”

“It’s okay,” she sighs, and he can tell that she only partially means it. “Marg is much more comforting, and then by the time Ruby’s ready to bash Victor, I’ll be there with all of the things that bothered me about him but that I never voiced.”

“Is the hair number one on that list?”

“Stop,” she groans, scrunching up her face and slapping his shoulder. “That’s awful.” “I mean, that is probably pretty tame compared to what’s going on in your mind right now.”

“True.” Emma dips her head and slants her lips over his. She tastes like her coffee, the vanilla creamer obvious, and he can’t say he minds, not when the taste is on her lips and not in his coffee. It’s much better than the mint and coffee of last night. “I love you.”

He reaches up and tucks her hair behind her ears, the strands continuously falling, before looking up at her through his lashes while his thumb traces over her cheek, over the freckles that reside there. “I love you, too. Do you want to go out to the beach to get your mind off of things?” “I’d like that.”

The temperature continues to rise throughout the day, but with the way the sky is overcast, the heat isn’t overwhelming. If anything, it almost makes it cool despite being over eighty degrees. And as the dark clouds move in, thunder rumbling in the air, he only gets a few minutes to appreciate Emma in the scrap of fabric she has on before they’re rushing inside already soaked to the bone with how quickly the rain fell.

He thought maybe the storm wouldn’t come after it didn’t break last night, but he was apparently wrong about that.

After they’ve both quickly rinsed the sand off in the shower and changed into warmer clothes, they settle down in his room, Emma pulling the comforter practically up to her chin while he flips through the channels trying to find something to watch. Emma teases him when they pass one of his movies, practically begging to watch, but he refuses and settles on one of the Oceans movies just to have something playing. Friday afternoon is obviously not prime time for movie replays.

Obviously Fridays are just bad for television overall.

Emma’s been herself all day, but he can tell that not being at home with Ruby is definitely bothering her. She’ll get quiet every now and then, her gaze trailing away, and she’s got her phone by her side constantly when she usually leaves it alone for a little while, not always having to be on it. He wishes he could help, had offered to pay for her ticket so she could go home early, but she insisted that it was fine, that it really will be better for her to stay. Still, he can tell that she wishes she was at home, especially when she walks out of the room to talk to Mary Margaret for at least an hour.

“We should do something with your family tomorrow,” she tells him. “Or Will and Robin. I don’t know. As much as I love sitting inside with you with it pouring down rain outside, we probably should leave this house at some point. Or maybe have people come to us.” He wraps his arm around her shoulder, tugging her closer and kissing her temple. “Elsa did say she wanted to do something with you.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“How?”

He can feel her shrug under his arm. “We text.” “Really now?”

“Hey, don’t be so surprised. I like her. Also, I know that you and Marg talk about food all of the time, so it’s really not weird.”

“I never said it was, love.”

“It was implied, KJ.”

-/-

“You’re such a cutie,” Emma coos to Aiden, brushing his hair off of his face while she lays on the floor of Elsa’s house with him so that they can play with all of the toys he has scattered across the ground. Aiden’s taken quite a liking to her, which is good considering his fondness for only liking people he knows. “You remind me so much of Leo.”

Aiden runs one of his trucks over Emma’s stomach, and she doesn’t even care, laying out on the ground and making Aiden giggle with all of her theatrics.

“If anything, I think I’m going to keep you around to entertain my kid,” Elsa laughs, settling down next to him on the couch and handing him the tea she’s been making.

“I mean, I’m being run over by giant trucks right now, so it’s very hard work. I feel like I need a pay raise.” “We’ll negotiate later.” Elsa nudges his shoulder, making him tear his eyes away from where Emma is now tickling Aiden’s stomach, their combined laughter filling the room.

“What?”

“Slow your roll,” Elsa whispers into his ear, squeezing his shoulder.

“What are you on about, lass?”

“You’re thinking about future things,” Elsa continues, and he can feel the blush rising in his face and reaching the tips of his ears. He is thinking about future things, has been all weekend, but watching Emma with Aiden is filling him with more thoughts than it should. One day at a time. They take things one day at a time, maybe a few weeks at a time, but they’re not thinking years ahead. He’s thinking years ahead. “I can see all of the gears turning in your head, see the way you’re making all of these plans.”

“I am not.” “You are.” She rubs her hand up and down his arm while he takes a sip of his tea, letting the warm liquid wash down. “And I’m so happy for you, but you gotta take the baby steps before you take the running leaps.”

He hums, knowing that she’s telling the truth. Honestly, though, even with all of his thoughts about the future, he knows this. He’s not looking to do anything that he’s not ready for. He’s not looking to do anything that Emma’s not ready for.

“Thank you for your all-knowing advice, oh wise one.”

“Shut up,” she groans, slapping his shoulder before pulling back and picking up her tea from the coffee table and drinking it. “Emma, let me know when you’re tired of fooling with him, and I’ll pull Liam out of his office so that the three of us don’t have to have him constantly in our sights.” “Are we talking about Aiden or Killian here?”

Elsa giggles beside him, blinking down into her cup all the while he feels the tips of his ears heat again. “Sweetheart,” he sweetly begins, “I will leave you here and change the gate code at the house if this is how things are going to be.”

“Hmm,” Emma mumbles, pulling Aiden up to stand on her stomach, “I think I’ll just stay here. I feel like Aiden will gladly share his room with me. He’s much cuter than you too.”

“This is so true.”

“Bloody hell,” he grumbles into his cup. “I’ve made a mistake introducing the two of you. This is not nearly as entertaining as when we’re all ganging up on Liam.” “That’s because Liam is much more fun to make fun of,” Elsa laughs, having to wipe the corners of her eyes. “He gets much more flustered than you, which is saying something.”

They stay over at Liam and Elsa’s while the storm rains itself out, coating the city in water that it probably desperately needed, especially with the summer heat taking full effect. It’s nice listening to the steady rhythm of the rain beating against the house, watching it fall down through the floor-to-ceiling windows they have leading out to the backyard, and while he had no intention of staying here all day, it’s exactly what happens. Emma falls asleep in a recliner, a blanket pulled up around her legs and Aiden snuggled into her chest, while he and Elsa watch TV and eat food, catching up on everything they’ve missed while Liam finally leaves his office and joins them.

It’s one of those days where you know it’s good while it’s happening, and even though Emma wanted to spend time out at the beach while she was out here, he doesn’t think that the rain has been a bad thing.

It’s actually been a good one.

Really good.

[mx-bright-sky]

okay i know we literally just got the latest fire emblem game like, a few months ago, but right now i can’t stop thinking about what i, personally, would want out of the next fire emblem game in the series and so now i’m gonna make a post about it

also most of this stuff is gonna be focused on mechanics and none of it is going to be overly detailed when going into story elements; i enjoy making stories but i don’t wanna come up with an entire brand new one just for a post 

so!

first of all, i really love what they did in three houses with having it so that you could walk around the monastery between each chapter’s missions, and so i want that to STAY and i want it to get even MORE in depth

i also think that the next game should probably only have one “route” in it. we had fates with nohr and hoshido and valla, and now we have three houses with the black eagles and the blue lions and the golden deer. three houses is definitely leagues better than fates in terms of story telling, but it would be a lie to say that there aren’t parts of it that are lacking, and when looking at the different paths you can see a shift in the quality of writing. three houses was good because it was like it was taking the idea of fates and actually making it work, but now that it has, it’s time to move on. i think if we have a story with one “route”, it’ll make the game stronger because it can focus on making that one story as good as it can be

that being said, i wouldn’t be opposed if this “route” worked like the black eagles route, where automatically you would end up in Silver Snow but if you meet certain requirements you get the option of choosing a secret route, like with Crimson Flower

actually, expanding on that, let’s say we have “one route” but within that story are different choices at key moments and depending on what you choose it will slightly change the trajectory of the story (kind of like what happened in awakening, but i mean like, MORE of an effect than what awakening gave us)

okay that’s enough talking about routes for now, moving on,

i really like the way that the character roster works in three houses, where they start you off with a set of 9 units and every chapter mission has a limit of about 11, and then the game lets you choose if you want to recruit more but it’s not required. i like that more than previous games’ “here you start off with three people and only over the course of the story do you get everyone, have fun”, especially because in other games at a certain point you have to bench some units because the game gives you more than you’re able to deploy. 

so like, one(1) keep that starting set of characters and the ability to recruit more. but to add on to that, i’d also say that it would be interesting if the story could randomly choose (at the start of the game when you get your team) which people are in your group, and then put a limit to how many people you can actually recruit to your party. i feel like that would offer more variety than “here’s my fifty-fifth playthrough of three houses and here’s my character roster it’s uhh literally everyone in the monastery, again, all of them” because if you’re limited to who you can pick and who you get from the start is randomized, then for a while every new playthrough of the game is gonna be different

another thing that goes with that, and i think this would be easy to add if we’re already doing the “randomized what characters are there” situation; when you recruit a character, have them show up in story cutscenes where everyone is there. made me sad that when i recruited people in three houses they didn’t get to show up too. 

i made a post about this the other day but To Summarize(TM); i want support conversations to have more of a clear impact on things going on. like, maybe the way that could function is that each character has a little internal growth meter, and it goes up a little bit every time they have one of those meaningful support conversation chats, and so depending on what level it’s at you see different dialogues from that character. that way their growth feels more real and permanent. another cool thing, you know how three houses already lists each characters favorite people in the menu? what if when you’re wandering around the open world part, you can see those characters spending time together. and you know how sometimes in three houses you see characters doing a little back and forth in story cutscenes? it would be cool if characters you had at a-support with each other had little lines with each other like that. it would just make the world feel more alive, you know?

speaking of the supports; honestly at this point with the character avatar i see a few different options that would be better. one, if we go down the path of having all the other characters go up to A and A only with each other, then i feel like that should apply to the avatar character too. we don’t need s-supports if no other character has them. or, two, if we’re giving all of the characters s-supports again, then can we just stop gender locking the s-supports? if you have a masculine and feminine avatar, and you’re already writing their s-supports with everyone, then literally WHAT is the point of gender locking them. it would be so much easier to just not, honestly it’s so simple i don’t know why they haven’t gotten it yet. 

ALSO PLUS, with the avatar, can we like... have it so that the avatar isn’t in a position where marrying people is gross? like, with fates you could marry the royals even though the avatar is technically raised as their siblings which is,,, yuck, and in three houses even if it’s “only post timeskip” for a lot of people it’s still very uncomfortable that the avatar character is a teacher and then marry the characters that are their students. can we like... just NOT have the avatar be a character where there are those kinds of circumstances that make the ships gross??? 

and okay, ONE MORE THING, if we’re giving s-supports back to every character again, it would also be better to not have platonic s-supports because, you know, otherwise what’s the point of it being an S-SUPPORT

okay i’m done support ranting

as all fire emblem fans know, fates’ story was far from the best (even if you do like the game), HOWEVER, there are a FEW things that I think it did right. that being, one(1), while i know we shouldn’t expect a gimmick on every map in the game, I really do like how all of the maps in the Revelations path had a sense of uniqueness to it, and I want at least some of that sprinkled in through other games. TWO(2) is that fates got rid of gender locked classes. why did we move backwards. let me have my male pegasus knights, cowards. ESPECIALLY considering classes that WEREN’T EVEN GENDER LOCKED before, NOW SUDDENLY being gender locked in three houses. what the hell, i’m just, literally why, i don’t understand why they did it

speaking of classes, we gotta make up our minds, can every class use every weapon or not. what i mean is, i want non-specifically-mage-classes to be able to use magic, and i don’t want other classes to lock out specific weapon types. freedom for all weapons. i was so excited by the idea of having marianne as a pegasus rider and then i found out she wouldn’t be able to use magic anymore and i had to give up that dream

bring back transforming units, if a character is part dragon i wanna see ‘em turn into a dragon

having lord characters that used weapons other than swords was cool, can we keep that going?

and having a female lord who actually had goals and a character drive was cool, can we get more of that too but this time without making her the villain

that’s all i got for now, but i might come back to this later

[sun-summoning]

#25 Fashion Design - Marinette, Clara Nightingale

i.

When Clara firsts casts Marinette and soon gets to know her, she is absolutely certain that this girl is destined for greatness. She’s kind and well-loved and so utterly talented. Clara checks out Marinette’s Instagram and is a bit put out to see she doesn’t post as many of her designs as she should. She has full faith in her capabilities though so reaches out to her with a request anyway.

“You want me to design a gown for you,” Marinette repeats, blinking at her as if the idea is absurd.

“That’s right. I do.” Clara grins. “If anyone could make me look lovely, I have no doubt that it’s you.”

Marinette shakes her head. “Your music video literally featured outfits by Gabriel Agreste himself. And now you want to go downgrade to--”

“Don’t sell yourself short! You’re greater than you think.” She looks at the swatches of fabric strewn about on Marinette’s desk. “Now I was thinking something long, something flowy--maybe something pink?”

“Oh.” Marinette nods slowly, as if confirming for herself that this is actually happening. “You’re serious.”

“Of course I’m serious, or I wouldn’t have pressed. I just know that with you, I’d be the best dressed.”

And so over the next few months, Marinette designs the loveliest gown of dusty rose for her. It takes up virtually all of her free time and requires heaps of supplies that Clara can’t even name, but she gets them for Marinette anyway. The only thing Marinette seems to turn down is an assistant. 

Clara is positively radiant on the red carpet, twirling just so to show off her bodice embellished with rose appliques over a mesh that matches her skin. She glides along with her full, tulle skirt, and when she’s asked over and over who designed this gown for her, she refers everyone to Marinette’s Instagram account for her designs and commissions. 

Overnight, Marinette gains some thousand more followers and counting. 

-

ii.

Clara throws a grand party for her twenty-fifth birthday, something that wouldn’t be complete without an equally grand dress to turn everyone’s heads. She’s been dressed by countless fashion houses, but when it comes to these truly special moments, Clara can’t help but seek out Marinette again. 

“I know you’re still in university,” Clara says, “so I know you have school, but please, please, please, Marinette. Your designs always rule!”

Marinette giggles, wondering when she ended up on a first-name basis with one of Europe’s most adored singers. Probably between the album cover she designed for her two years ago and the gown she wore when she won an award for it. “It’s fine, Clara. I’d love to.”

“Really?”

“How could I not?” Marinette opens her Instagram and switches to her design account. She’s certainly been gaining attention from other designers and models. More importantly, she’s been getting those commissions, which have been helping her stay afloat while in school. “I think I gain an extra thousand followers every time you tag me in one of your photos with my clothes.”

“That’s wonderful!”

“It definitely is. I am, after all, a fashion student with an uncertain future.” She pockets her phone, grinning widely. “I’d love to design your birthday dress for you, Clara. Did you have something particular in mind?”

“Anything you make will be perfect.”

“You have to give me something to work with.”

“I believe in you, Marinette. You have free reign on colour, silhouette, whatever.” Clara claps her hands gleefully and then takes Marinette’s in hers. “I just want to be striking.”

“Alright,” Marinette agrees slowly, always eager to rise to a challenge. “I can do that.”

“And I want pockets.”

She laughs. “Oh, I can definitely do that.”

-

iii.

For the first time, Marinette says no to Clara’s request for a gown. It’s not about money. Clara always provides her with whatever materials she needs and they always settle on a fair price. And it’s not about time, because Clara is asking nearly a year in advance. It could be about the amount of work, which Clara thinks is fair, but Marinette said it’s not that either.

Maybe it’s the pressure. Marinette, now interning, now really focusing on building her network and reputation, is afraid. Sure, she’s always been out there. A quick search to her name yields outfits worn by Clara herself, Jagged Stone, Luka Couffeine, and that doesn’t even include links to information about her achievements in various contests.

Designing Clara Nightingale’s wedding gown would draw a lot of attention. Much more than anything else Marinette might have done in the past.

“I’d really love to,” Marinette tells her softly, “but I just...I can’t right now, Clara.”

“But why?” Clara insists. “I can hire someone to help you--”

“No, it’s just--I can’t.” Marinette shrugs. She sighs deeply and sips her tea to find something to do with her hands. 

Clara looks around Marinette’s one bedroom apartment and finds it strangely devoid of life and personality. She remembers Marinette’s childhood bedroom, pink and overflowing with little bits of what made Marinette the girl she is. There were photos of her friends, sketches tacked onto the wall, magazine cut outs, half-made mockups, and more. Here, Marinette seems to just come home and sleep. 

“Up until recently, my personal life has been....” Marinette rubs her neck. “There’s something I was really busy with. And now, well, now it’s over. And I have a lot of time on my hands,” she admits with a sad smile. “While that’s ideal for wedding gown making, I think...I think I really need it for me.”

There’s something about the droop in Marinette’s shoulders that makes Clara nod. She keeps tucking her hair back before brushing her bare ears. Clara wishes she could get Marinette to design her wedding gown, but she can’t force her to. Marinette just looks so sad. So worn down and uneasy. Like the idea of having time to herself is bittersweet.

To her knowledge, Marinette never had a pet, but she looks like she might have lost them. Or no, Clara decides, that’s not it. It’s more like she lost a dear friend.

Deciding to step up to that role, Clara smiles at her. “You’ll still come to the wedding though, right?”

“Huh?” Marinette blinks. “I’m invited?”

“What? Of course!” Clara reaches across the table and grabs Marinette’s hand. “You’re my favourite designer, Marinette, and you’re very dear to me. If I can’t get you dressing me, then I can at least make you eat dinner and drink some wine with me.”

“I’d...I’d like that.”

“And--” Clara curses herself for starting because now she can’t stop. “You can say no, but what if you design something for my rehearsal dinner then? That’ll be fairly low key, I promise--”

“Okay.”

Clara blinks because she didn’t actually expect to succeed here. “Okay?”

Marinette nods slowly. “Okay. I can use the work,” she says, sounding like she’s trying to convince herself that the dress wouldn’t be a distraction. “What were you thinking?”

Clara shakes her head as she stands. Marinette reacts, standing as well, so Clara pulls her into a hug. “Focus on yourself for now, Mari. We can deal with my dress another day.”

-

iv.

Meeting with Marinette no longer happens in bedrooms above the bakery or in sad, bare apartments. This time, Clara visits Marinette’s studio, marvelling at the pieces that are on display before meeting with her favourite designer herself. Marinette soon rushes out in a green smock that really just makes pregnant look all sorts of chic.

Clara greets her with kisses before shaking her hand like it’s a joke. Her gaze falls down to Marinette’s middle and she grins.

“What are you at now? Six months?”

Marinette sighs heavily. “And counting.” She rubs her abdomen. “To be fair, I don’t think it’s this little one that’s making me so tired.”

Clara nods, knowing that Marinette’s ever-growing name also comes with a lot of demand. Moreover, a need for constant exposure. And Marinette always seems to forget that she married into fashion royalty. Or maybe she’s well aware of that, Clara considers. Maybe she’s trying to prove herself beyond everyone’s presumptions by heavily overcompensating.

“Did you make that dress yourself?” Clara asks.

Marinette’s face twists into a scowl. “Maternity dresses always look so frumpy. And the non-maternity dresses that can work with my stomach always look strange on my chest.”

Clara practically shakes in giddiness. “Do I sense an MDC maternity collection in the near future?”

“More like one titled afterbirth that is largely sweat pants and with prints that resemble spit up.” But Marinette pauses, genuinely considering a possibility of maternity clothes. “Or perhaps...actual dresses that fit properly. And then after that, matching outfits for mothers and daughters?” 

It all comes out like a question, but Clara knows Marinette is completely zoning out, especially when she reaches for her sketchbook. Clara keeps her mouth shut, preferring to spend this time watching Marinette’s creative process. After all, she technically came here to commission MDC into creating something for herself and her daughter for the girl’s tenth birthday.

“And suits!” Marinette continues. “And then little baby suits--” She cuts herself off with something between a squeal and a cry. She sniffles and then rests her hands on her belly. “I just--that would be so cute.”

“It would be,” Clara agrees.

Marinette turns to her, as if remembering she’s there, and then promptly flushes. “Sorry,” she mumbles. She laughs sheepishly. She closes her sketchbook and moves it to the other end of the table. “You came here for a reason. So how can I help you, madame?

Clara pulls the sketchbook back and pushes it Marinette’s way. “Continue with that, won’t you?”

“I can do that later,” Marinette protests.

But Clara considers the image Marinette had been in the process of sketching, a woman and a little girl in matching sheath dresses adorned with roses. 

“Nonsense.” Clara leans back in her chair. “I want whatever you’re making.”

-

v.

When Clara is set to celebrate her induction to L’Ordre national de la Légion d'honneur for her contributions to the arts, she asks Marinette to design her dress for the ceremony because just who else is there?

The morning of the ceremony, they’re alone in Clara’s suite as Marinette ensures that everything fits Clara the way it should. The navy neckline settle just off her shoulders, looking tasteful but still elegant for this special event. The dress is much simpler than anything Marinette has ever made her before, but Clara positively adores the waterfall handkerchief that adorns the right side of the knee-length skirt. 

When she’s finished looking over every single stitch, Marinette stands straight, takes a step back, and assesses Clara in the dress.

“Satisfied?”

After a moment, Marinette nods, making Clara roll her eyes. “The dress is fine, Marinette.”

“It’s--”

“Polished, professional, perfect for this event.”

“I know.” Marinette shakes her head and that seems to remove her from her stupor because she’s smiling. “I don’t think I’ve said this yet, but congratulations, Clara. This is a great honour.”

“You’re coming tomorrow night, right?” Clara is throwing a party to celebrate her new status as Chevalier among her family and friends. It would be only fitting that Marinette, who designed tomorrow night’s dress as well, was in attendance.

Marinette shakes her head though. “Emma has a recital,” she explains. 

“And you have a Spring line to design.”

“And I have a Spring line to design.” Marinette laughs. “Although only after Emma’s recital.”

Clara nods, knowing just how much family matters to Marinette. She almost snorts when she recalls that all of Paris (and even the world) knows that, if her line of matching outfits for parents and children a few years ago was anything to go by.

Before Marinette finally leaves, Clara grabs her hand.

“What’s up?” Marinette asks. It’s not like this dress is particularly finicky, unlike her other designs. 

Clara just pulls her close. She knows she might be wrinkling Marinette’s hard work, but this hug feels more important. 

She’s grown so much since being the kind-hearted teenager that starred in her music video decades ago. They both have. Marinette is almost her height now, and she’s a woman with a career and husband and three kids at home. 

“I don’t know how many times I’ve said this, but you really are amazing, Marinette.”

“Isn’t today about your lifetime achievements?” Marinette teases.

Clara draws back and pats Marinette’s cheek. “I’ve won more than enough best dressed awards to prove that keeping you by my side is one of those achievements.” 

Marinette bites her lip. She pulls away and grabs her bag of supplies. She moves to leave, but Clara calls her name when she gets to the door. 

“I’m so lucky to have been able to watch your talents flourish.” Clara beams at Marinette Dupain-Cheng with pride. “I can’t wait to see what you do next.”

[malarkiness]

I have Thoughts on Frozen 2 because of course I do. Spoilers galore under the cut.

Just to recap my feelings on the first movie: I loved Elsa, thought Hans was hilarious as a villain, liked most of the songs, and enjoyed the “true love” twist at the end. 

Everything else? Pretty mediocre.

But I think Frozen 2 actually improved some things about the first movie in retrospect (while also being a good movie in its own right). Some things that I wanted but didn’t get from the first movie but got from the sequel were: 

No villain. Well, there technically is a villain, but Elsa and Anna’s grandfather is long dead in this movie and not an active participant in the plot. Instead, the characters (primarily Anna) are working to fix the results of the villain’s betrayal of the Northuldra. The story’s more about characters working through circumstances rather than fighting bad guys, which I like.

Less Kristoff and more Anna and Elsa interaction. This movie felt a lot more like a story about sisters than the first one did because I actually got to see their relationship in action and their personalities play off one another.

I remember being annoyed at how the “Let It Go” scene in the first movie cut away from Elsa’s face to focus on the ice palace, but her big transformation scene in the sequel showcases her expressions.

Characters of color with actual names and lines and active roles in the story. That shouldn’t really be notable in 2019 (or back in 2013, even), but here we are.

Olaf was still annoying, but also funny.

More interesting/creative/colorful imagery as opposed to lots and lots of white snowscapes. There were a couple of sequences that looked like someone handed Jennifer Lee a stack of rainbow scratch pages and just told her to go nuts.

I think I liked the soundtrack more from this movie, too:

Elsa gets two Oscar-bait songs in this movie: “Into the Unknown” (which is genuinely fantastic and gives me the same “I could fight a whole mastodon right now” feeling that Idina Menzel’s songs usually do) and “Show Yourself,” which is framed as the successor to “Let It Go.” I actually found the second one’s melody a little lackluster compared to the first when I watched the movie, but it’s really grown on me after a couple of relistens. I like how it starts off very gently and quietly, and then works its way up to a powerful reprise of Iduna’s lullaby. And it’s a good answer song to both “Into the Unknown” and “Let It Go,” as well as the movie’s overall theme about uncertainty and finding your path. The thing is, the main reason I loved “Let It Go” so much was that– taken out of context– it’s very easy to read it as a metaphor for coming out (especially with the pop version’s alternate lyrics). And I realize that that was probably purposefully baity as hell, and I fell for it like a total clown, but whatever. Anyway, you can’t really decontextualize “Show Yourself” in that way quite as easily. That’s not bad, really. Just a little disappointing for me personally. Oh, and I really want a goth metal cover of “Into the Unknown.” Someone page Evanescence or Within Temptation.

“The Next Right Thing” is incredible and a very effective song about grief (The line ”How to rise from the floor when it’s not you I’m rising for” hit me like a train.). I like how muted it was, and how simple the lyrics were. Kristen Bell’s singing voice is usually sweet and upbeat and sincere, so hearing how raw and tired she sounded in this song really left an impression.

I really liked Iduna’s lullaby (because I love a good lullaby in any musical).

Olaf’s song felt kind of jarring for the point it was at in the movie, and it has this really dopey melody that I feel like was conceived and written in the span of like twenty minutes tops, but it’s still genuinely funny. I liked the how it fit into his whole little subplot about growing older (and the movie’s overall theme).

Kristoff’s song was... a Choice. I guess if you really wanted to put a 80s pop ballad music video in this movie as a gag, "Lost in the Woods” is fine. I actually really like the song on its own, but there was just no reason for it to be as long as it was in the movie, lmao. Like I get that you have a Jonathan Groff and you want to use him, but I got the joke after we hit the chorus the first time; you don’t have to stretch it out. Just cut the song short in the movie and put the full version on the OST.

And lastly, the character arcs and overall storyline were better this time around:

I liked the movie’s theme of feeling lost and having the courage to find your footing and also yourself. “Into the Unknown” is Elsa’s song, but the rest of the movie’s soundtrack advances the themes from it. Olaf’s song is about assuming he’ll understand everything when he’s older highlights the point that there is no fixed time in your life where everything is clear and easy and you stop having to grow as a person. Anna’s “The Next Right Thing” is about picking yourself up after a harsh blow and making yourself keep going, simplifying it to just taking one step at a time. Even Kristoff’s song builds on this theme since it’s about feeling completely lost without someone, so it still fits the broader concept of being uncertain. And “Show Yourself” is about finally finding your path and feeling certain in spite of your fear.

Elsa’s character arc has a much more satisfying resolution than the one she had in Frozen. In the first movie, she accidentally reveals her powers, runs away in shame and then finds that she actually likes herself when she’s on her own and isn’t forced to hide who/what she is, is eventually brought back home against her will, and... that’s where she stays at the end of the story. In this one, she starts off safe at home, does the standard Hero Rejects the (Literal) Call to Adventure thing before finally deciding to follow it, ultimately finds the source of The Call, comes into her own, and stays with the Northuldra at the end to live out her life as the Avatar one half of the “fifth spirit” that connects humans to the elemental spirits. She still has Anna, understands who she is, and gets to stay where she’s happy and where she feels like she belongs. I kind of wish she’d just let Arendelle get destroyed, though. Not like anyone was home anyway. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ 

I liked Anna a lot more in the sequel. I didn’t really care for her or Kristoff in the first movie (or their relationship because it was basically just a watered-down version of Rapunzel and Eugene’s), but I think it helped that she spent most of her screentime in this movie either with Elsa, Olaf, or alone. I like that she’s not clingy exactly, but she’s clearly very anxious about Elsa’s safety at all times. She follows Elsa everywhere, asks if she’s okay like a dozen different times, and only leaves her side when Elsa physically forces her to. I liked seeing how desperate she was to keep Elsa with her after being pushed away from her for so long. I liked watching her pick herself back up after she thought she’d lost her sister for good, and I loved how willing she was to destroy her own home to make things right with the Northuldra and the forest. Anna was very flawed and admirable in this movie, and just an all-around great character. And I definitely think she’s better suited as queen than Elsa. I wish we’d gotten a scene showing Elsa telling Anna that she was going to stay in the forest. It would’ve capped both their storylines a bit better to show both of them accepting this major change to their lives and their dual roles in their world. It seems like such a natural and obvious conclusion that I’m almost convinced that a scene depicting that very thing exists and was just cut for time.

I liked the snowman’s character arc, lmao. It was a nice microcosm of the movie’s themes, and the post-credits scene was a good way to end it.

I liked Mattias. He introduces the concept of doing “the next right thing” whenever you’re at a loss of how to proceed with your life. He’s also surprisingly willing to destroy Arendelle after Anna tells him why that needs to happen. I would’ve liked more dialogue there, or to see him struggle with the decision a little, but I guess there was just no time for it.

Aside from Iduna, the Northuldra characters weren’t in the movie quite as much as I think they should’ve been. There’s the tribe’s leader, who obviously has some (mutual) distrust of Mattias and what’s left of the Arendelle guard. There’s Honeymaren, who gives some useful exposition here and there, and she also gives you an idea of just how long the conflict between the Arendellians and the Northuldra has lasted since she’s lived her whole life without seeing the sky because of it. And then there’s Ryder, who... is basically Kristoff personality-wise, lmfao. Because we really needed two of him. I think you could’ve collapsed him and Honeymaren into one character without really losing anything crucial to the plot. But anyway, maybe they all could’ve played a part in guiding the rockbiters Earth Spirits to destroy the dam the way the Arendelle guard did. I get that that was meant to be a moment of reckoning for the Arendellian characters, but the Northuldra (and not just Anna) had a right to play a part in that, too. If nothing else, it would’ve been good to see the tribe’s leader watch the dam fall since she was alive to see it built in the first place.

As for Iduna... She’s an actual character in this movie. We learn that she’s part of the Northuldra tribe and that she apparently hid her identity from her husband all her life, I guess out of fear that he may harbor the same distrust of magic as his father (and given how he tried– however well-intentionally– to suppress Elsa’s magic after she accidentally hurt Anna, Iduna probably wasn’t wrong for that). At the same time, though, it makes you wonder why she never told Elsa about her heritage or the spirits while she was alive. She knew that humans and magic could coexist harmoniously; did she really keep that a secret just so her husband wouldn’t know who she was? Did King Husband just not suspect anything when his first kid was born a waterbender? I mean, I know the real reason for all this is that the writers just hadn’t thought this backstory up yet when the first movie came out, lol, but still. It throws the king and queen’s actions in the first movie in a more interesting context, but not one that really makes sense... I dunno, I guess it needed some more fine-tuning. A little more insight into Iduna’s rationale during Elsa’s childhood would’ve helped.

So to sum up: it’s not perfect, but I definitely think it was better written than the original (which I realize isn’t saying much, lol, but still). It does everything a sequel is supposed to do: it expands on the world the story takes place in, gives more depth to the characters (not just in giving them more backstory, but also in giving them new challenges to grow from), and tells a story that’s actually new. There are obviously things I think could’ve been done better, but it’s mostly stuff that would just improve something that already has a pretty good foundation (as opposed to the first movie, which almost needed to be completely reworked from the ground up). 

I liked the unified theming and how clearly it’s shown through the songs, the two leads’ character arcs, the OST, the visuals. I do wish it had followed through with some of the stakes it presented (like actually destroying Arendelle and just... letting Olaf stay dead lmfao), and that it’d developed a couple of the Northuldra characters a bit more, but yeah, overall? Not bad. Definitely an improvement from the original if nothing else.

[rayewriting]

I’m Already Broken

Fandom: Batman, and heavily draws from Teen Titians (2016)

This is the extended piece of my earlier post “Something I’m working on”.

And a HHHUUUUUGGGGGEEEEEE shoutout for the beta reader @cdelphiki​ !!! They dealt with all the mistakes for the first draft and pitched in some amazing ideas too! They are an incredible beta, writer, and person to talk with!!! So if you have not heard of them or read anything by them, you are TOTALLY missing out on some AMAZING fics!! (I know, “Raye, what’s with all the caps?” THEY ARE JUST SO NICE AND AMAZING. I JUST- I JUST LOVE THEM, OKAY?)

Robin was rarely called into Gotham anymore after starting his new Teen Titians team in Brooklynn. So, when Batman called Damian to go on regular patrol in his city, he was a little worried. But while Robin was investing somethings that Emiko needed to look into for some of the Titans’ upcoming missions a few days ago, Batman broke his ankle while fighting Killer Crock and Batgirl got a major concussion after Harley Quinn knocked her out a couple of days after Bruce was put on medical rest. That led to Robin patrolling Gotham with the help of Spoiler and technical support of Oracle for a week, starting Saturday night.

“Oracle, send an anonymous tip to the GCPD on the corner of 15th and Carter street,” Robin reported as he tied up an unconscious man that Robin found, assaulting a teenager, then he turned toward the victim and asked softly, “Are you alright?”

The teen was shaking but tried to pull himself together and nodded slightly.

“The police are on their way. You can either stay here or head to the police station that is five blocks down,” Robin said slowly, knowing the victim was trying to process what he was saying. The teen nodded his head again, then slowly slides down the wall he was leaning on. As Robin grappled up to the roof his mask blinded him with an alert of Scarecrow and Poison Ivy escaping Arkham.

Then he heard over the open comm line, “Oh shit.” Robin just grunted in agreement.

However, nothing happened over the next couple of days. From experience, that usually meant disaster was about to strike. Which is exactly what happened on Thursday as Scarecrow was reported raiding a chemical facility earlier in the day and Robinson Park was growing unnaturally quick during the last couple of hours.

“Robin, Spoiler, head to the cave, we will come up with a plan here,” Batman commands over the comms from the cave.

“On my way B-man. Besides, I have a class tomorrow and need sleep,” Spoiler pipes up, jumping on her cycle and enters a secret passage that leads to the cave.

“ETA ten minutes,” Robin reports, adjusting his grapple to swing towards his own cycle.

“Looks like I’ll beat you there, D, I’m in the tunnels.” Steph says. Robin acknowledges her with an uninterested grunt and begins to pull out of an alley.

“Hold on…,” Oracle pipes up, “I’ve caught Scarecrow down at the Dixon Docks in Chinatown, Robin, head there. Spoiler, Ivy was seen at Gotham’s Natural Museum in the Burnley district. We can coordinate plans while you two head to your new locations.”

“There goes my precious four hours,” Spoiler grumbles.

“Damian, I’ll head down there soon, Scarecrow is not to be taken lightly—” Bruce was saying before Damian cut him off.

“You have not finished healing, Father, and, as much as I find it ironic, you will not be in the field till Dr. Tompkins and Penny-One approve of this move. You being in the field would be more of a hindrance than any help. Do not worry, I will use caution. We do need a plan; however, and that is paramount for any successful mission.”

Oracle jumps into the conversation by adding, “I just got intercepted a 911 call saying that a few men in ‘potato sack masks’ abducted a group of people from Cameron Street.”

“Hack the cameras, Oracle, I want numbers and names; how many people were taken, who they are, and how many perpetrators. See if they lead us to Crane’s location by tracking the hostages’ phones or other devices, or if they put the hostages somewhere else. Maybe Crane is trying to fool us by driving to a different location,” Bruce demands gruffly. “Spoiler any…”

Robin tuned out the conversation as he as he was driving to the docks. As he pulls up to the waterfront warehouse area, he waits for Spoiler to finish her report of the museum, finding nothing amiss there, Robin reports quietly, “I am here, have you figured out a certain warehouse or a group at least?”

“Close, Robin, I’m almost…,” Oracle trails off, the sound of keys clacking rang through, “Got it, the fifth warehouse on your left. I’m pulling up blueprints now.”

Robin starts sneaking over toward the appropriate building, looking through windows on the bottom floors while Oracle begins to hack to find the correct blueprints, “Okay… okay... ah-ha. The building was built with two floors, first floor has no rooms, just a place to stock over-produced goods and the second just a perimeter catwalk with a room at the opposite side of the entry doors. There are ten hostages, three women, four children, and three men. Looks like at least eight muscle-for-hires, I can’t do a facial recognition search of them because of the masks but most have a heavy build body type.”

Robin takes all of this into consideration when he looks into the window of the first floor, “The hostages are bound, gagged, and spread into three different groups, each group has a man, woman, and child. The groups are separated by metal containers or wooden crates, I do not have visual conformation on the last child. I can see five of Scarecrow’s thugs. I’m going to draw their attention towards the alley behind the warehouse and take them down. Hopefully that will spark majority of the hostages to get out while they can.”

Once Batman gives his approval, Robin slowly made his way towards the back doorway, picking up a dark-colored glass bottle along the way, and entering the building. The door closes loudly then after a couple of seconds he throws the alcohol-scented bottle- smashing it against the wall gaining the attention of the closest guards to the back of the building.

“What the hell is that?” Robin hears, most likely coming from the guard closest to the hostages.

“How am I suppose to know? I don’t have x-ray vison.”

“Don’t talk to me like that, idiot.”

“Excuse me—”

“Hey! Knock it off you two, it’s probably a local drunk. You four, go check it out. Report in when you know.”

The henchmen are dressed in all black and have burlap masks around their eyes, all different ethnicities, but their builds are similar to each other. When they reach the end of the warehouse they spread out. The two closest thugs to him, Robin puts in a headlock and holds tightly until they go limp and drags them behind a large crate and ties their hands together. The third one is drawing closer and Robin walks behind him, picking up a metal pipe that was sticking out a crate, and hits him across the head- enough to knock out, then ties him as well. Which leaves the last one—

“Hey!”

Shit.

The last thug saw him and reaches for his radio, but Robin grabs the gun that is in face and breaks the hand and pistol whips him across the head.

“Peter? What happened?”

Robin quickly hides in the shadows of a metal container by the time another goon shows up, which Robin jumps behind him and puts him the same headlock, slightly trickier than the first one but he still passes out. After tying the two men together, Robin makes his way to the catwalk silently walking across till he is as close as he can to the remaining gunman around the hostages.

“What is taking them so long?” the lone criminal asks himself angrily, then into the radio, “What’s happening? Report in!”

“Your associates will not be contacting you anytime soon.” Robin makes his presence known, making the other male turn quickly and aiming his weapon at the costumed hero. In turn Robin throws himself off the catwalk and lands on the man’s shoulders and knocks him out with a well place nerve strike, making the thug slump to the ground.

Robin runs to the closest group of hostages, pulling a knife out to cut into the ropes of the closest adults, an African-American man in his early thirties and a Latina woman in her late twenties. Once he reaches the group, he begins to inform them, “The criminals on this floor are gone, and the other ones are most likely upstairs. I am going to cut you out of your bounds, then you need to help the others out and contact the police. Do you understand?” They both nod quickly and Robin walks to the man’s back, noticing his hands are shaking, “Please try to keep your hands as still as possible, this knife is quite sharp,” Robin says softly, placing his hand on the man’s shoulder.

After the man’s hands slow, he cuts off the rope and repeats the process to the woman while the man unties the pale skin child, “Though I have taken care of the criminals on this level, please do not make more noise than necessary, there is a child unaccounted for and I need to save them.”

The woman speaks up hesitantly, “The criminals grabbed too many kids, according to Scarecrow, so he took her up there,” she points to the offices upstairs.

Robin bristles silently at the information but quits when he looks at the woman, “Thank you for the information.”

The child the man just finished untying, runs to Robin legs and grasps his shirt crying out, “She is my sister! Her name is Opal! You have to save her!”

Robin kneels to reach the child and shushes him, “I am going to try my best, but in order to do that I need everyone out of the building, that includes you, your sister, and everyone else here.” The child nods then begins to walk towards the adults and follows them to the other groups.

Robin starts up the stairs swiftly and silently. “Oracle, I have secured all but one of the hostages. Six men are unconscious, leaving at least two more and Scarecrow.”

“Okay, Robin. I’ll have GCPD parked outside ready for pick up soon.”

“How are things with Poison Ivy?”

“Spoiler is taking care of it at the moment, pretty well. Only a few hiccups, but they smoothed out nicely. Ivy will need pick up soon as well.”

“Very well.”

Robin takes out the two gunmen guarding one of the doors hastily but noisily when one of them got a shot off into Robin’s arm. The sound of the gunshot causes Bruce to loudly worry over the comm device in his ear. Grunting in assurance, Robin engages grappling with the last thugs. He breaks one of older men’s arm and slams him into the wall. Then, he pushes the other one off the catwalk and bolas him while the thug was in mid-air.

The sleeve of his uniform is torn off and blood is leaking into his gauntlet, leaving a few inches of his brown skin vulnerable. Robin opens the office doors slightly taking note of the layout, three wooden desks are situated in the room, and each had one wooden chair in front and a swivel chair behind. The little girl, Opal, was seated on the chair in front of the desk that was opposite of the door, tied and gagged, but seemingly unharmed. He quickly rolls into the room, hiding underneath the closest desk and opens his comm for everyone to listen to Scarecrow’s plan. Then, as quietly as he can he sneaks over to Opal when Scarecrow isn’t looking and unties her hands and feet, then puts his index finger to his lips in a shushing gesture, then unties her gag.

Scarecrow, when threatened, was akin to a rabid dog- jumping at every noise and quick to act- needless to say, very dangerous. His gun was full of needles of fear toxin, aim jumping to all the shadows in the room. After Robin was finished untying the child, Scarecrow sing-songs “Robin, come out, come out wherever you are! Or this little one gets it.”

Robin stands up and walks forward into the light coming from the overhead bulb in the middle of the room, “What is your plan, Crane? Throwing Gotham into chaos and reign the madness? Or something even more asinine?”

“How dare you! My plan was marvelous! City wide madness is always a pleasure! But since you, bats, always seem to ruin it, let’s see what you your actions cost you!” Scarecrow cries as he pulls the trigger that is still pointing at the small child.

Robin shouts out a loud, “Run!” and without hesitation, jumps in front of Opal, the needle harmlessly hitting his armor plate, then bouncing off and landing on the floor. “I do not think I am the one needing to pay my dues, Crane,” Robin quips as he launches himself into an attack, causing Scarecrow to go on the defensive. He hears the door be thrown open and little feet make loud footfalls as she leaves the warehouse.

“Hold still, you little—”

“Shut up, Crane.”

After a few minutes of grappling with the madman, Robin has Crane on the ground. Robin attempts to nerve strike him, but Scarecrow dodges, swipes the fallen needle, jabs Robin in the hole of his uniform, and injects the toxin into Robin’s bloodstream. When Robin gives a short curse, Batman immediately demands for information, but Robin doesn’t have time and jumps away from the mad scientist’s hands as they go for a choke hold.

“Robin, what is happening?” Batman shouts into his ear, and Robin grunts while going back into the fight, not waiting for the illusions to take hold.

“Impossible! That was enough to get Batman weeping! So, how are you unaffected?!” Scarecrow cries as Robin throws a barge of punches at the scientist’s side. The comm unit in Robin’s ear goes silent, obviously the other people hearing Scarecrow’s meaning.

Robin jumps takes advantage of Scarecrow’s distracted mind and throws him to the wall and hogtying his feet and hands together.

Then the teen wobbly leans into Scarecrow’s face and coldly lets out, “I am living my greatest fear every damn day I wake up, Crane. Nothing you inject me with can be worse than my life.”

Silence!

The toxin is pumping through his veins as he pours out his soul unwillingly, “My team does not trust or like me. My other allies are either dead, moved on, or ignoring me. My best friend has suddenly aged and has not even bothered to talk to me. My grandfather just wants my body to possess.”

The toxin! It’s the toxin!

His eyes grow hazy and wide as his biggest secrets flow out of him. “My mother orchestrated my death to prove that my father does not care for me. One of my brothers betrayed me for his own gain with no reason that I can see. Another one is dead and… never cared for me—I will not have the opportunity to prove that I do ever again.”

Oh please, make it stop! Just stop talking!

His heart is pounding so loud in his ears. “My oldest brother does not remember me and therefore does not care for me. My father has shown multiple times that he does not have intention of being around or caring. Any other person I could count on in this city has shown their disinterest or disappointment in either myself or my actions.”

Anything else! Anything else, but this! Please!

He tries to stop the river of words, but he can’t. “But that, that I can handle. The worst thing, the worst thing is that I have brought this all upon myself. And I cannot seem to stop or change enough for people to stop hurting me, or leaving me behind. And your fear toxin cannot hold a candle to those feelings on its best day.”

Leave! Leave now! Go anywhere else but here!

Robin knocks out the scientist, stands up, throws open the office door, walks out. He reaches to his ear to open his comm, forgetting the device had been on the whole time, and when he remembers leaving the channel open, his heart plummets when he realizes that everyone heard.

Shaking his head, Robin forces himself to speak calmly into his still quiet comm unit, “Oracle, Scarecrow is apprehended and is waiting on GCPD pick up in the second-floor office in the warehouse. I am headed to the closest safehouse for a fear toxin antidote.”

His comm unit cracks to life as Barbara quietly confirms his request, then leaves him to his thoughts.

Unknown to him, was the sniffles coming from Spoiler while she finishes up with Poison Ivy.

The tears in Barbara’s eyes while leaving an anonymous tip for GCPD.

The broken china tea cup that Alfred was laying out for Bruce.

The dent in the consoles where Bruce’s hand was laying.