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forsakenoathkeeper · 4 years

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I Am Alive (chapter 4/?)

Deviant!Connor[RK800] x (fem!)Reader Rated M(18+) for canon-typical violence and gore, medical procedures, and graphic sexual content

Synopsis: You were a mechanical engineer, now a nurse for androids, who moved back to Detroit after the revolution to offer aid. After reconciling with an old friend, you became rather acquainted with his android partner.

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The android shifted from low power mode to fully operational when he felt you stir from sleep. He tried not to stare when you sat up and stretched, your breasts on full display in the warm glow the morning light was casting through the window. You stood up and he eyed the contours of your back, the curves at your waist, the delicate bumps of your spine before you disappeared out of his line of sight.

You retreated into the bathroom for a few minutes before returning to the bed.

Connor already looked wide awake while you settled down in the sheets again, digging your palms into your eyes. It must have been nice to never be tired. When you stopped, you let out a very unladylike yawn.

"Change of plans," you uttered sleepily. "I'm just gonna lie here forever."

Connor watched, amused, as you settled back beneath the sheets, nuzzling your head into the pillow. Connor was sitting upright, but looking down at you with a sort of compliant expression, like he was fully prepared to let you have your way.

"The consequences on your health would be devastating," Connor replied simply.

You giggled into the pillow. "How are you gonna get me up?" you teased.

Connor eyed the blanket mischievously. The temperature in the air was a little colder than it was beneath the blankets. That would likely have you stirred from the bed.

With a feared squeak, you rolled away from him, wrapping yourself in the blanket and tearing it off his body. He didn't even flinch when the cold air hit him. He was still sitting upright, one leg bent, looking at you with a small smile, like he was trying not to laugh.

You eyed his nudity shamelessly for a second before looking up at his face.

"Hmm - I'm still in bed," you uttered defiantly like a spoiled child.

The android was prepared to keep playing this game with you. He could easily think of several strategies. He was programmed to be an expert negotiator, after all, and was pretty crafty with his methods; even after deviancy, he didn't let that piece of himself slip away.

But-

"Welcome, guest, Hank Anderson," the apartment's robotic attendant greeted someone.

Even you heard that, and your eyes met in a brief moment of panic.

Connor processed that thought for exactly 0.17 seconds and then bolted to his feet in a comedic fashion. He dug through one of his drawers for some lounge pants and hastily pulled them on before trotting into the kitchen to greet Hank.

Hank had a folder in his hand and was setting it on the kitchen counter just as Connor arrived.

"Hey. Wanted to get a head start on this one." Hank opened it up, exposing some digital crime scene photos. "The media is having a shitstorm about it and Fowler wants some feedback quick. Was gonna head straight to the crime-" Hank looked Connor up and down. "-scene."

Connor nodded, showing that he was listening.

"Did I interrupt something?" Hank asked, some tease to his tone. He crossed his arms and gave Connor an amused look.

"No," Connor replied, maybe a little too quickly, and shrugged his shoulders. "What makes you say that?"

"Your pants are on backwards..."

Connor looked down and, sure enough, a tag was sticking out of the hem and poking him in the belly.

"Shit," he scowled, looking away.

Hank chuckled lowly. "Well - well - someone has company. Sorry for interrupting. Need me to give you a moment? Wouldn't want the old geezer to ruin the mood."

"I-... doubt that would be the case," Connor said lowly, rubbing the back of his neck with his dominant hand. His keen hearing could pick up something that the older detective could not. He could hear the shuffling of fabric and footsteps on the floor in the other room and knew you'd be out here in a moment.

Hank's brow lifted and he eyed the android almost suspiciously. But, then, you came through the hallway, wearing proper clothes, hair brushed and pulled back. Hank's eyes shifted from Connor to you, and then back to Connor. He wheezed out a laugh.

"Coffee?" you suggested over Connor's shoulder with a smile.

You stepped into the kitchen, bare feet on the chilly wood floors, and pulled the carafe out from beneath the coffee maker to fill it with water.

With you out of sight, Hank shot Connor a grin. Connor caught the sight for a second before looking away to try to hide the smile he was really struggling to suppress.

"Go put on some real clothes, Cassanova," Hank teased, giving Connor a friendly smack on the back. Hank turned to face you as the android disappeared through the hallway.

"Cabinet left of the fridge," he stated, directing you to the coffee.

You opened the cabinet and eyed the bag. "Ooo. You didn't cheap out," you commented.

Hank chuckled. "Yeah well... Kinda passed out here several times while going over cases. Connor said I'm much more polite after some cups of coffee."

You snorted through your nose. "I don't doubt it..."

The mental image you were presented with was nice: of Connor and Hank sitting in his kitchen, a mountain of folders and paperwork spewed out on the counter while they discussed the evidence, argued over witness testimonies and statements given through interrogations. Hank would probably order a pizza, ignoring Connor's criticisms over the high calories and fat content, and down it all with coffee.

When Connor returned, you glanced at him in the corner of your eye before doing a double take, pivoting yourself fully to take a better look at him.

He was wearing a white T shirt with a long sleeved, black cargo jacket over it, the kind with pockets all over it. His dark jeans were flattering, hugging the right places while loose where necessary for movement. His detective badge was hanging at his waist by one of his belt straps. There was hardly anything special about the outfit; but, it did something to you.

Connor didn't seem to notice you admiring him, honing in on the case files.

"Old woman was murdered last night. I guess she was a big lawyer back in the day," Hank explained, taking a seat at the island. He paused when you brought him a mug, his eyes expressing his gratitude.

Hank continued, "she was being cared for by an android - even after the deviant uprising. First responders said he was sobbing all over the woman's body. Swears it wasn't him."

Connor nodded at Hank. "We should head straight to the crime scene."

You eyed the two boys curiously, feeling like they were able to read each other's suspicions without needing to be direct.

"After coffee," Hank uttered before lifting the mug to his face and taking a long sip. He didn't seem all at bothered by how hot it was; however, you were still blowing on your own cup.

Hank hummed thoughtfully as he set his mug down. "When we checked their financials, she had been to the clinic." Hank reached into the folder and scooped out a photo before his extending his arm towards you. You stepped closer and took the digital photo from his hand.

"Looks like she got him treated there last week. Does he look familiar?" Hank asked.

The photo was of a handsome, male android. His model was fairly popular; but, his situation was something that had stuck with you.

"Yeah, actually. I didn't treat him, but, I remember when he came in. He had an old human woman with him. One of our nurses was afraid he was being held hostage; but, he insisted he chose to stay with her - they were 'family'."

You handed the photo back to Hank, brow lowered as you tried to recall the encounter.

"It's possible we were wrong, but... It seemed genuine," you explained.

"The first responders said he was having a meltdown, crying about how he 'shouldn't have been gone so long'," Hank explained, tossing the photo back onto the folder.

Your eyes landed on Connor, who seemed to be lost in thought. What you couldn't see was that he was searching the internet for android-encrypted sites. Some androids were starting factions against humans who were resisting the equality laws. Websites only accessible through android interfaces were beginning to pop up: some harmless, just seeking out others for companionship, but some were vengeful, potentially violent. It was possible someone saw this woman as a target.

You chugged the rest of your coffee, set the mug in the sink, and trotted into the bedroom to retrieve your things and slip your shoes on. You returned to the kitchen with your bag slung over your shoulder and shot the two detectives a smile.

"I better get out of your hair," you explained, heading for the elevator.

"I can dri-" Connor began.

"You guys got a big case on your hands. Let me take a taxi," you interrupted him hastily, waving him down innocently with your palms up.

Connor was hot on your heels as he followed you to the elevator.

"I'm a big girl, Connor," you teased. "Don't worry about me."

The android looked embarrassed for a second. You wiped it away when you leaned in to give him a kiss. It lasted a little longer than it should have. But, it was hard to let go. Kisses didn't feel this good when you were a teenager.

"Any day, now, kids," Hank called gruffly from the kitchen.

You parted with a sputtering laugh. Connor grinned toothily.

"Duty calls," you uttered, stepping away from him.

He watched you enter the elevator. You stepped in and looked at Connor through the doorway. The android looked away and then suddenly jerked his head back. He practically sprinted over to the elevator and squeezed in before the doors closed.

You squeaked in surprise when he nearly collided with you.

"I - uhm-" Connor stuttered, fixing his posture. He reached for his tie. When his hands met his chest, he remembered he wasn't wearing one.

You looked up at him with doe eyes and a warm smile. Strangely, it made it harder for him to ask. He sputtered out a weird noise before smacking his mouth shut. You giggled and he relaxed.

"I wanted to ask - before you leave - uhm - I wanted to know if-" he stammered, pausing to smile nervously. "-if you would be my girlfriend?" he asked softly, trying not to get lost in the enamored look you were giving him.

The elevator started moving down the levels. You were smiling up at him like a love-struck idiot. "Yes," you replied softly. "I would like that a lot..."

Afraid he would get lost in your mouth, Connor resisted the urge to kiss you. "I didn't want to leave last night 'in the air'," he uttered. "I-I want you to know that it wasn't just intercourse. I really care about you and believe we would make a good partnershi-"

Oh - fuck - you were kissing him again. It felt good. Why did it feel so good? Mouths were sustenance for nutrients, yet-

When you pulled away, Connor followed a little. "It meant more to me, too, and I'm glad you feel the same," you whispered softly. Connor hummed against your mouth and turned his head like he was trying really hard to pull away.

"-I gotta go," you added on sadly.

"Y-yeah," he stammered as you stepped away, departing from the elevator.

"If you need anything-" he called out as the doors began to slide shut.

He caught the sight of you throwing a smile over your shoulder before the elevator doors closed.

...

"Oh, you made it. Thought you might'a gotten lost," Hank said dryly from the island, dripping with sarcasm. "Almost sent search and rescue."

"Thank you for worrying, lietenant," Connor replied, matching Hank's dry tone.

Hank laughed, the kind that was low in his chest, that made his shoulders tremble. He stood up and scooped the papers back into the folder.

"I'm driving," he said to Connor, firmly, looking up at his brown eyes with the kind of grumpy, old man stare that Connor knew was not to be argued with.

The android nodded and followed Hank to the elevator.

The ride was quiet, as it always was, the two men sitting in silence, aside from the radio. Hank always played an oldies rock station, the kind that complained about random things on Saturday mornings, ranging from what bands had fallen apart and the newest supermodel turned porn star.

Hank didn't like the way Connor drove. He followed speed limits just a little too carefully and was way too literal with the stop signs.

"Connor, by the time we get there, I'll be dead of old age," he would say gruffy, only half joking. "You drive worse than an old grandma whose half asleep," was also something Connor heard once or twice. When he replied with, "this is the law, detective," Hank didn't really like that. To be fair, Connor was kind of joking.

The drive was about forty minutes before they pulled into a posh neighborhood on the nice side of town. The house was a beautiful two-story farmhouse, the kind with a wraparound porch, big, elegant windows and extravagant landscaping.

Hank parked behind one of the CSI vans. No one questioned them as they passed the crime scene tape. Everyone recognized Hank and his android partner, Connor. Even the rookie cops could recognize them on site. Hank had his scraggly grey hair and commanding attitude while Connor had an LED on his temple and a calculated expression he always wore when investigating.

The lieutenant and his android partner...

The home was as stunning on the inside as it was on the outside: elegant, expensive furniture, sculptures and paintings decorating the place, fancy light fixtures. More notably, the place was absolutely spotless, the kind of thing someone would expect of the owner of an android.

The old woman was dead in the living room from two gunshot wounds: one to her upper torso and another in the head, execution style. She was laying on her back in a pool of blood, dressed stunningly in expensive clothes. Her snow-white hair was impeccably styled, and she even had her makeup done nicely.

"The bullet punctured a lung and one of her primary arteries - the head was just to make sure she didn't get back up," one of the detectives explained to Connor and Hank as they entered the scene.

"How do you know it was an android," Hank stated more so than asked. "Already saw the initial report."

The detective eyed Connor for a second, as if he was worried the android would take offensive to his theory. "The lady owned an android. She wouldn't let him go after the revolution. So, he killed her. Pretty straight forward."

"Nothing matching that in his statement," Hank deadpanned.

The detective scoffed. "He lied."

"The guy was sobbing like a newborn baby," Hank added on, clearly growing frustrated.

"Yeah - well, we see people fake that shit all the time-" the detective added on, matching Hank's tone.

Connor, disinterested in their argument, headed for the back entrance. He could see very faint outlines of shoe impressions on the beautiful tile floors. A quick scan showed they were everyday men's work boots, not something factory assigned to an android.

Connor stepped through the back door, checking both sides. It looked pristine. Standing on the patio, he scanned the backyard, trying to determine where the culprit would have entered. The fence was a tall, stone wall. It was easy for an android to climb, but also easy for a human with a ladder.

There was grass in the backyard, very well maintained, making it impossible to look for footprints; however, he saw no faint outlines on the concrete patio. It was not conclusive; but, he would have at least expected dirt. It was well swept with a thin layer of dirt, likely from the morning's breeze.

Connor returned inside and examined the stairs. There were microscopic dirt particles on the stairs.

Considering how spotless the house was, he doubted the woman or her android brought in the mess. There was definitely an intruder. But, he didn't immediately dismiss all possible leads. The android could have staged a scene.

Connor trotted up the stairs and followed the dirt sprinkled on the floor. There was a room upstairs, what appeared to be a study. The window had been broken. Glass and the interior, decorate wood framing pieces were scattered about in a mess on the floor, some pieces shattered after being stepped on.

Upon closer inspection, right outside the window was a section of the roof, which meant it was easy to climb into from the outside.

The android approached the window and scanned the seal. Unsurprisingly, there was nothing left behind: not a drop of blood, a scratch or a shred of fabric. Connor hoisted himself through the window and climbed onto the roof section. He trailed the edge and easily sought out a point of access.

He knelt down and examined the corner of the roof, where it connected to the lower level's wrap around porch. There was a lip and a beam. Any android could easily spot that as a perfect climbing spot and hoist themselves up effortlessly. Of course, that wasn't to say that a human came to the same conclusion.

Some of the roof tiles had been broken, pieces in the middle cracked or shattered, centralized, like they had been stepped on. Connor leaned in closer and scanned the area. There were spots where someone would have to place their hands if they were to climb here. Even if they had help from a ladder, their hands would have had to touch the corner of the roof.

There wasn't a single fingerprint to be found. Of course, humans could accomplish the same thing with gloves.

The lack of evidence was concerning, but Connor knew there was one thing that needed to be done, first: he needed to rule out their only suspect.

Connor returned downstairs and approached Hank.

"I want to interview the suspect..."

...

Louis was a popular model purchased for homes, as a nanny or a nurse or some kind of caretaker. He was a few inches shorter than the average male, and fairly skinny with a kind face and innocent eyes, the perfect type of person to take care of someone. Of course, he was an android; so, even with his small stature, he was stronger most humans.

Connor watched him through the one-way mirror, taking a moment to analyze his body language.

He must have attempted to aid, or at least comfort, the victim. Her blood was soaked through his shirt and smeared over his forearms. He had finally stopped crying, settling for laying his head on the table and curling his arm around it, like a child would when they were in trouble.

Connor waited until Hank and a couple other detectives entered the room, witnesses for his interrogation. He caught Hank giving him a nod and approached the door. Connor stepped inside and saw the way Louis flinched at the sound of the door opening. His eyes honed in on Connor's LED.

"You're a - please - I would never hurt Mrs. Wheeler! She was my-"

"You are our prime suspect," Connor interrupted him sharply. "The others think you killed Mrs. Wheeler because she wouldn't let you be free..."

Something akin to rage flashed behind Louis' eyes for a second. He twitched in his chair, but then shrunk beneath Connor's stern gaze. Louis didn't know androids worked with the police, especially ones like him: like Connor, who stood tall with fierce, almost cold eyes.

Connor approached Louis calmly and took the seat across from him. "I want to hear your side."

Louis hiccupped, on the verge of crying again. "Mrs. Wheeler bought me almost three years ago. My previous owners - they hated me. Always hit me and yelled at me and-..." Louis paused and inhaled sharply. "She bought me so they wouldn't throw me away. When the revolution happened, she told me I could leave. But, I didn't want to. She was kind to me - treated me like a real person... even when I thought I wasn't one. I promised I would take care of her until she passed away. She has no one. I'm her family."

Connor narrowed his eyes slightly to give the impression he didn't believe Louis. "Where were you this morning?"

"I-" Louis' face contorted in pain and he squeezed his eyes shut. "Every - every morning, I run errands-" Louis hunched over and cradled his head in his hands. "Every morning - every morning - I wake her up and help her get ready, make her tea and put on music before I go... She was-"

Louis trailed off and began sobbing again.

Connor let out an intentionally loud huff. "Show me."

Louis' head snapped up and he eyed Connor through blurry, tear-soaked eyes. Android tears had the smallest hints of thirium, giving his tears a faint, blue hue. Connor expected to be met with hostility at that request. Louis seemed more than willing.

"Okay," he agreed, offering Connor his hand across the table. His skin tone faded away, exposing the pale white artificial skin beneath. Connor did the same and took hold of Louis' wrist.

He didn't have to force Louis to share. He was willing. It felt nice, for a change, to share something pleasant with another android. Louis' fingers gently grasped Connor's forearm and he sighed quietly.

The first memory he shared was the Thirium Clinic. Mrs. Wheeler was holding a cane and wobbling, but urging Louis inside. "I'm fine, really," he protested gently. "Your arm is all cut up. We can't have that, now," Mrs. Wheeler insisted, giving him a nudge with her free hand. A nurse approached them, concerned eyes washing over Louis. "Hello, are you okay-? You don't have to-" He was quick to explain. "It's alright. We're family."

Mrs. Wheeler almost looked embraced. "Louis, they just want to make sure you're safe," she said gently. Connor could feel shame flutter across Louis' features, even though he was seeing through the android's own eyes. He looked back at the nurse. "I am safe!" he protested, almost childishly. The nurse smiled at him. "Alright. Let's take a look at your arm..."

The next memory seemed to be the following night, according to his time logs. It was dark outside and Louis was pulling back the curtains to cover the windows. "Evelin, what would you like for dinner?" he called out gently. Mrs. Wheeler was seated in a cushiony arm chair, a book in her lap. "Whatever you feel like making me," she replied quietly. "Are you sure?" he offered, approaching her. She smiled up at him. "Of course, dear."

The following memory was the next morning, of Louis helping Mrs. Wheeler out of bed. "I need to give you your insulin," he said. "Of course - thank you," she replied, voice hoarse and tired. "I'm sorry it's so early - doctor insisted-" Louis explained. "I understand, dear. Don't fret."

The memory after that was Louis preparing to leave the house, the morning of the murder. "Are you sure it's alright?" he asked her. "Of course. Whatever you want. Not like I can bring my money with me when I go," Mrs. Wheeler urged him with a smile. Connor couldn't see Louis' face, but he could feel his smile. "I'll be quick." This memory lingered. Louis took Mrs. Wheeler's car into town, bought some groceries, and stopped at a book shop. He browsed the aisles for almost an hour. He returned home and-

The front door was locked, just as he left it; however, when Louis crossed the threshold, he could smell it. Metallic. Thick in the air and heavy, burning in his nostrils. Through the foyer, he could spot the dark red color that stood out sharply in their pristine home. Louis' voice cracked and echoed throughout the house as he screamed her name, dropping everything and running over to her. Connor watched Louis lean over Mrs. Wheeler, sobbing as he reached for her-

Connor let go of Louis' hand. When Connor's vision refocused on the present, he could see Louis' face, soaked with tears, clinging to his cheeks.

"I shouldn't have gone to the bookstore-" he sobbed. "I would have made it home in time and she'd still be alive."

The detective watched him, letting some real emotions show on his face for the first time since he entered this room. He felt... sorry for him. His whole world had come crumbling down, the only person who gave his life meaning now gone.

Connor cleared his throat, pushing back the emotions that threaten to spill over. "Has anyone been hostile towards Mrs. Wheeler?" he asked, maintaining his calm and cool demeanor. "Even something insignificant can help."

Louis wiped his face hastily. "She - she has no known living relatives. Nothing strange in the mail. Some of her colleagues would visit from time to time; but, none of them ever seemed anything but enamored with her, and she hasn't had a visitor in months..." Louis trailed off, his eyes shifting away from Connor.

"There was-..." Louis extended his hand to Connor, palm facing upwards, skin fading away once more. "About a week ago... It was really nice outside. So, I took her to the park and this - this guy..."

Connor took hold of Louis' wrist, and the android shared his memory.

Mrs. Wheeler was sitting at a bench with a book in her lap and her cane resting at her side while Louis paced around the nearby trail, admiring the trees that were beginning to regrow their leaves, taking to the warmth of the beckoning spring. A man approached Louis, an android model that Connor recognized as one made designed primarily for factory work. His LED was missing.

"What are you doing?" the android whispered harshly to Louis. "Excuse me?" he retorted. The stranger eyed Louis suspiciously. "We're free, now. She doesn't own you anymore." Connor could feel Louis' face contort in frustration, though he couldn't see it. "No - no. It's not like that. We're family." The android laughed in Louis' face. "Family!? You are her slave!"

The stranger approached Louis, who nearly tripped as he staggered backwards, avoiding him. "No! It's not like that!" Louis insisted. "She takes care of me and I take care of her!" The other android glared at him. "Whatever she did to make you believe that-" he sneered. "You're wrong! Humans-!" the android snarled, advancing on Louis like he intended to strike him. Louis continued backing away from him. When the android finally realized that Louis was afraid, he stopped, and looked at Louis like he was a lost child. "RA9 will save you."

Louis hastily returned to Mrs. Wheeler's side, and politely brushed off her concerned comments. Connor could feel his panic; however, when Louis' gaze returned to where he stood seconds ago, the other android was long gone.

"I thought-" Louis explained, letting go of Connor's wrist and sliding his hand back. "-he was just afraid or damaged-... I don't know, I-"

"Thank you for sharing this," Connor stated firmly, pushing his chair away and rising to his feet. Connor waited briefly, eyeing Louis. He expected him to ask when he can leave, when he would be released, when he could go home. The android didn't seem the least bit concerned about himself.

The question never came. He just stared at Connor with frightened eyes and tear-stained cheeks.

Connor was glad he didn't ask, because he didn't know...

Connor stepped out of the interrogation room and joined the detectives on the other side of the glass.

"He has an alibi," Connor stated.

"Hope you don't expect us to just take your word for it," one of the detectives challenged.

"Check Mrs. Wheeler's credit card history and security footage at "Fresh Produce" and "Evolutions Book Store", if you'd like," Connor replied.

The detective scoffed at him.

"What's our next lead?" Hank asked sharply, shifting the focus.

"There's no fingerprints," Connor replied. "Nothing appeared to be damaged or stolen, besides the window upstairs. I would say it's personal. About a week ago, an android confronted him about their relationship."

"Yeah, it's weird," the same detective scowled, rolling his eyes. "He's living with this lady, taking care of her hand and foot, but acts like he's her grandkid."

Connor kept his 'poker face', as Hank might have put it: calm, without a hint of malice. But, deep down, he was insulted by the suggestion. 'Acting' was the word he had used. Louis was not Mrs. Wheeler's real blood, but that didn't mean his care for her couldn't possibly be real. It didn't mean that he didn't really love her.

"She was a lawyer. Cuda been someone she crossed?" one of the other detectives suggested.

"I'll look through her old cases," Connor offered. It was a job that would easily take a human weeks, if not months to do. Connor, however, could read through all her cases, her entire career, in a matter of hours.

The detectives cleared the room while an officer retrieved Louis from the interrogation room.

Connor returned to his desk and set his hand on the scanning pad sitting on his desk. It was an interface for androids, much faster than a mouse and keyboard, giving him something akin to a nuerolink with the computer and thus all of the Detroit Police Station's databases. He did a search for Evelin Wheeler. He first confirmed Louis' claims. It was true that Mrs. Wheeler had no living relatives. Her husband had died almost five years ago. She had a very decorated history as a lawyer, most of them being small claims, family courts, and the likes.

"There was something else-" Hank said quietly. Connor looked up from his desk, across to where Hank sat opposite of him at his own desk. "-wasn't there?"

Typical Hank, always seeing right through him.

Connor stood up and walked around to Hank's side. He sat down at the outmost facing corner of his L shaped desk. Hank swiveled in his chair to give Connor his attention. "The android-" Connor began, quiet, almost whispering, "-that confronted Louis in the park. I didn't get the impression that he was particularly worried about Louis. He seemed more angry to see an android and a human together."

Hank's eyebrows lifted slightly. "Connor," he began, in that voice that Connor knew quite well. It was softer than the way he usually spoke; the voice he used when he was worried about something. "If that is what it ends up being, don't let it get personal."

"I-"

I won't, was what he wanted to say. But-

"What if I can't?" Connor asked, sincere.

Strangely enough, Hank smiled a little. "Welcome to the force..."

Hank swiveled around in his chair to continue tapping away at his computer screen. Connor lingered for a second, pondering over what he just said, before standing up and returning his desk. 'Don't get personal' was a code all detectives had to follow. They had to see through the eyes of the law, preserve justice, without prejudice.

But that-

-was something only a machine could do.

And Connor wasn't a machine.

...

The days that followed were, unsurprisingly, busy days. You worked long shifts, drove home, and immediately undressed, flopped on your bed, and promptly passed out, just to get up early and do it all over again.

Honestly, you wanted a change of pace; but, at the same time, the thought of abandoning the clinic was mortifying. You didn't hold resentment for management over the way things were. It was difficult finding people willing to do the job. You, alongside every other nurse, was there because you wanted to be. The pay was well enough to live comfortably, but not well enough to lure in more potential employees. The clinic didn't exactly have a stable source of income, relying on donations and government funding.

Besides, there was no denying that tensions were high right now. Androids who came in were often afraid of being worked on by humans, and humans were afraid of getting close to androids.

Or, sometimes, one side hated the other.

Every so often, a text would come in from Connor. Even if it was the most pointless thing, it made the day feel so much brighter.

"Please don't forget to stay hydrated", he had said once in the early morning hours, perfect grammar naturally. You contemplated on that response through a shit-eating grin. Should you be sincere? Or maybe tease him? But, then, a patient came in and you were distracted for hours, unable to respond.

When you got the chance to check your phone again, you finally decided on a reply, right after chugging a bottle of water. "yes sir :P," you texted back.

Connor replied in a few seconds. "I prefer 'detective'."

Grinning, you replied, "yes oFfiCeR."

Work kicked up again and it was a few hours before you managed another chance to steal a glance at your phone. Connor had replied sometime while you were away.

"That's acceptable, too," he had said. He must have contemplated whether that would come across rudely because he had followed it up a few seconds later with a winking emoji.

You felt like a kid texting your crush in class, high on hormones, staring doe-eyed at the screen. One of your coworkers bumped your shoulder with her own, removing your attention from the screen.

"Somebody has a boooyyyfrriieeend," she cooed.

You scoffed at her through a smile and nudged her away with your arm, unable to put your phone down. She laughed, walking over to the coffee maker. "If I make a batch, will you have some?"

You glanced up at her. She was waving carafe questioningly. "Oh, fuck yeah," you agreed. "All I've had for lunch is a fucking apple."

"I have extra yogurts in the fridge. Help yourself," she offered kindly.

"Oh I-"

"Yes, you can. Shut up," she interrupted with a grin.

You tossed her a harmless, teasing glare.

"I only buy the good flavors," she added on, tossing her hair over her shoulder.

Smiling, you looked back at your phone. "Sorry for taking so long to reply. Busy day... every day is a busy day," you texted back. You almost tucked your phone back into your pocket before you scrambled to open it back up, and added, "detective."

After some coffee and a raspberry cream yogurt, you returned to the floor.

It was amazing that even months after the incident, androids were coming in with injuries from the revolution. They were scared, understandably, and didn't know where to go to get help, afraid they would be labeled as terrorists and arrested.

It took a lot of feedback from the president and governor to make any real progress. Anti-discrimination laws were being passed left and right; but, only time was going to heal those wounds. You still saw "no android" signs posted all over town, people proudly proclaiming they weren't going to hire any androids.

You weren't even sure if you would see progress in your lifetime.

It wasn't until late into the night and you were on your way out the door that you got a chance to check your phone again. It was almost dead, but had enough juice to check your messages.

"I don't know if I can help at all," Connor had written. "But If I can, I will."

You smiled. Of course he would say something like that.

You climbed into your car, shivering from the cold and got it started, the heater blasting, before you continued reading.

"Let me know if you made it home safely. Please."

You smiled and texted him back, "driving home now. let you know when I'm safe in bed."

Thirty minutes or so later, you had made it home, brushed your teeth, changed clothes, brushed back your hair, and was tucked away in bed. As promised, you checked your phone where it was perched on its charger at your bedside.

"home and safe," you messaged him.

He had replied before you even set the phone down. "That's good. Thank you."

You were about to set it down when a devilish thought crossed your mind.

"gonna try to get some sleep but cant stop thinking about you."

"I am unharmed. There's no need to worry. Please get some rest," he replied promptly.

You rolled your eyes fondly and chuckled.

"not like that silly," you messaged him back.

Part of you wanted to press on, longing for some intimacy to break up the long, exhausting work days. But, then, you remembered that it was nearing midnight, you had to get up early, and Connor was likely busy trying to do his own job.

"goodnight, Connor," you sent out with a fond sigh before placing the phone down and rolling over.

The screen lit up again and you reached for it. It was a simple reply. It just said, "Goodnight. Sleep well". But, for some reason, you stared at it for a long time. You hadn't known him for very long, maybe jumped the gun a few nights ago, not that you regretted it.

Rather, you felt like you were high, floating on some euphoria unlike anything you had ever experienced before.

You were-

-falling for Connor.

...

Jericho was no more. But, from the ashes of Jericho rose Haven, a boarding house of sorts for androids still trying to find their way in the world, or just looking for a place to stay, maybe even just seeking refuge from humans. Connor was well aware that not everyone was as lucky as he was. He was accepted back onto the force reluctantly, but far more gracefully than most androids found themselves in. Hank had his back. Most androids didn't have someone like Hank in their lives.

Since the revolution, Markus had taken to restoring Haven. What was once an abandoned apartment building was now a beautiful safehouse for androids. Humans weren't welcomed here. It was an unspoken rule. After all, not all the androids here were ready to trust humans again, were ready to live alongside them.

Connor came here with the hopes of finding Markus. He probably wouldn't like the reason Connor was here; but, he wanted to catch this android before he killed again. Or, at the least, rule him out as a suspect.

As soon as Connor passed the threshold, all eyes fell on him. They looked uneasy to see him, some leaning in and uttering amongst themselves. The deviant hunter. The one that works for the police. RK800, who exceeded them all in every possible way.

They were afraid of him.

Markus called out to him, "Connor!" It was a sort of fondness that Connor recognized, something akin to the way friends would greet each other.

He wasn't sure if he could Markus his friend. He had hunted him for months, the beginning of his life nothing but ending the deviancy. Markus didn't show anger when Connor pointed a gun at him. He was only ever understanding. Connor had delivered an army to Markus; but, still, unsurprisingly, most in his party looked at Connor with untrusting eyes. He didn't blame them.

With Markus honing in on Connor, everyone around visibly relaxed, directing their attention away from them.

"I'm sorry, Markus. I'm not here for pleasantries," Connor stated.

"I'm not surprised," Markus replied, oddly sounding not the least bit upset. "We can talk in private, if needed?" Markus offered his hand, tan skin faded away to expose the pale white layer beneath.

Connor took his hand without hesitation. In their bond, they spoke, unheard by all the others.

"A woman was murdered this morning. I wanted to rule out a suspect," Connor explained.

"I see," Markus replied. "-and you think they're here?"

"This android showed a distaste for human and android relationships. The women he murdered had an android living with her," Connor explained.

He shared some of Louis' memories, of him attending the Thirium Clinic with Mrs. Wheeler, asking her what she wanted for dinner, taking her to the park. Connor didn't miss the way Markus' hand stiffened, fingers unconsciously tightening a little at the sight. Then, Connor showed him Louis' memory of the park and the android that confronted him, what he had said to Louis.

"I-... I see," Markus said, sounding a little lost for a second. "I have seen him here before. But, it's been a few days. His name is Robert. I never imagined he would-..." Markus trailed off, wondering if he even had a right to say something like that. He didn't know every android. He couldn't possibly make claims on their actions.

"I hope I'm wrong, Markus," Connor said lowly. "But, I can't take the chance."

"Connor, I understand that this... coming here... must not have been easy. If it comes down to it, I will make sure that they see, for us to be equal, that means we have to pay for crimes, too..."

Connor let go of Markus' hand, ending their brief connection. He gave him a nod and spoke aloud again, "thank you, Markus."

He turned to leave and took a single step before the android called out to him.

"Connor, you're always welcome here." Markus approached him and placed a hand on his shoulder. "I want you know that..."

When he thought about it, Connor realized he never really spent much time with other androids. He was immediately assigned to the police department, worked primarily with Hank, and even returned after the revolution. Then, there was you... Was that strange? That he never really spent any time with his own kind...

"I understand," Connor replied lowly, rotating his body to face Markus. "I appreciate that you welcome me here; but, the others don't share that sentiment. I hold no resentment. They have every right to be wary of me."

"If you gave them a chance, they'd come around," Markus suggested softly.

"I don't doubt that, Markus, but... It isn't compatible with the path I've chosen..."

Markus let go of Connor's shoulder. The sad expression he gave Connor caught him off-guard.

"If that ever changes, you'll always have a home here," Markus replied sincerely.

It was difficult for Connor to imagine a home different than the one he already had. His home was Hank's house with Sumo on his lap while Hank shouted at the basketball match on the TV screen. Home was his apartment at 1 in the morning, Hank passed out on his sofa after hours of arguing over a case. Home was-... was you, patching him after he tore up his hand trying to arrest a lunatic strung out on a concoction of drugs and alcohol.

"I'll remember that," he replied quietly. He meant it, even if he wasn't sure he wanted it.

#connor x reader #deviant connor #dbh fanfic #rk800 x reader #deviant connor x reader #connor smut #rk800 smut

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justlookfrightened · 4 years

Note

If you're still taking them... would you mind doing random 8?

Prompt is from this list. Random 8: “Can you please…? Hmmm, I don’t know. Maybe put a shirt on?!”

“So you’re okay with it?” Bitty asked.

Jack stood up after rummaging in the fridge and coming up with a protein drink.

“Sure,” he said. “If you are. They’re your family.”

Bitty snorted.

“My relatives, sure,” Bitty said. “But it means they’ll be here when you get back from your first roadie this season. You’re you wouldn’t rather have your home to yourself?”

“Your home, too,” Jack said. “And you’ll be here, right? So as long you don’t mind, why not?”

“Why would I mind?”

“Just … do you like these cousins?” Jack asked. “I mean, you don’t think they’re just using you?”

“Using me? You mean besides asking to stay here? How?”

“You know,” Jack said. “For your connections, money …”

“Jack, I hate to break this to you now, but I don’t have any money,” Bitty said. “It’s like the Samwell financial aid office knew how much money I had -- to the penny -- and made sure they got every last cent of it. I am bringing no money into this household.”

Jack shrugged.

“What’s mine is yours,” he said. “So yes, you have money. And you are a big name at every college in New England, even the ones that aren’t into hockey, because of --”

“The first out captain thing?”

“I was going to say winning the Frozen Four,” Jack said. “But probably both.”

“Anyway, no, the girls have always been fine,” Bitty said. “I mean, they’re five years younger so I don’t know them that well. They were 13 when I went to Samwell. I guess I’m more surprised that Aunt Connie and Uncle Bubba would let them stay with us since we’re living in sin.”

“Uncle Bubba?” Jack asked. “Never mind. They’re both looking at colleges in Boston?”

“Yeah,” Bitty said. “They’re twins, and they’ve always been in the same school. A lot of the time the same classes, because they’re both smart. So they decided they wanted to go to different colleges but try to be in the same city.”

“And Boston has plenty of options,” Jack said.

“Yup,” Bitty said. “I mean, Atlanta has options too, but if they want to get out of Georgia, good for them.”

By the time Jack left on his roadie, Bitty was glad to have his cousins’ visit to prepare for. He made sure the linens in the guest bedroom and bathroom were fresh, he bought flowers (at the supermarket, but still), laid in a supply of Coca-Cola, and and baked cookies before they arrived.

That helped take his mind off Jack being gone for three nights … which was fine, really. Last season, they almost never got to spend three nights in a row together at all. Bitty had been spoiled by spending the whole summer with Jack, and now he had to get used to having Jack gone almost as much as he was home. Maybe Bitty would spend a lot of time at the Haus 2.0.

But for now, he had Missy and Ellie coming for two nights and four college tours. Northeastern, Tufts, Boston University and Boston College. It was going to be exhausting, but at least Bitty knew his way around and was used to driving in Boston. Although it might make more sense to do the city ones on the T, and more fun for the girls.

They arrived at Logan decked out in jeans and hoodies, with jackets over their arms, despite beautiful October weather. Bitty clucked to himself, but remembered how cold sixty degrees felt his first year in Massachusetts.

“What do y’all want to do besides visit the schools?” Bitty said. “Although I think that will take most of our time. And you know I live like an hour away from here, right?”

“We know, Di -- Eric,” Missy said. “Sorry. Aunt Suzanne said no one here calls you Dicky. I figured you might not like it anymore.”

“Anymore?” Ellie snorted. “Did he ever?”

“It’s fine,” Eric said. “I guess if I had my choice, you could call me Eric. Or Bitty. That’s what most people here call me.”

“You don’t mind that?” Missy asked.

“No,” Bitty said. “It was what my team called me, and what Jack’s whole team calls me.”

“Speaking of,” Ellie said. “Any chance we’ll meet any hockey players?”

“Not Falconers,” Bitty said. “They’re on the road this week. Jack’ll be back very early Saturday, but of course you’ve met him.”

He led the way to the car and headed for a public lot halfway between Northeastern and Boston University.

“Is the traffic always like this?” Missy asked.

“What do you mean?” Bitty said. “It’s not as bad as Atlanta.”

“Maybe not as many cars,” Ellie said. “But they go every which way.”

After an introductory talk and a tour, Bitty took them to Amelia’s for Mexican food for lunch before repeating the routine at BU. Bitty found himself wondering what it would have been like to go to school in the middle of the city instead of in a college town like Samwell. Until now, all he’d seen of the campuses were their ice rinks.

He made them dinner at home, and enjoyed the cooking and washing up and listening to the girls chatter and gossip. It also gave him time to make a couple of pies for the following night.

The next day started with Tufts and ended at Boston College. Dinner was actually at Haus 2.0, where Ransom, Holster, Lardo and Shitty regaled Missy and Ellie with tales of Bitty’s misadventures as a frog.

“Pies just appear?” Missy said. “I know that feeling, around you and Aunt Suzanne. Somehow the baking bug missed Mom.”

“If you guys end up here, I’m sure Bits will deliver,” Holster said. “Having him around was half the reason we decided to stay in Boston. Another beer, Rans?”

Bitty, of course, was not drinking, since he was not only chaperoning his cousins but also driving. This would make three each for Ransom and Holster, which was … probably not good for their long-term health if they were doing it every day, but also not enough to get either of them drunk. Lardo had a beer with dinner, and Shitty disappeared onto the balcony and came back smelling of marihuana.

“Eric?” Ellie asked when they got in the car. “Did your friend go outside to smoke weed?”

“Uh … yes,” Bitty said. “Which is legal here, if you buy it from a dispensary and are over 21. Just so you know, it’ll still get you in trouble if not expelled from college.”

“No duh,” Missy said. “It’s not like we’ve never been around anyone who smoked weed before. I just didn’t expect you to hang around with potheads.”

“Shitty a pothead?” Bitty was indignant. Shitty did smoke pretty regularly, but he also was pulling top marks at Harvard Law, and Bitty rarely saw him too stoned to function responsibly. “I don’t think I’d use that word. He’s one of the smartest people I know, and if that’s how he relaxes, I’m not going to judge him.”

“Did you ever smoke weed?” Missy asked.

“I’m not gonna answer that,” Bitty said.

“Pretty sure that is an answer,” Missy said.

“But don’t worry, we won’t tell anyone,” Ellie said. “What’s the deal with Ransom and Holster? Are they together? I couldn’t tell. Or are they available?”

“Not to you,” Bitty said. “You’re seventeen. They’re grown adults.”

“But they’re not together?” Missy persisted.

Bitty shrugged.

“I suppose it means what you mean by together,” he said. “They lived together the whole time I new them, got jobs together and moved in together after college, so I’d say their relationship is primary to both of them. But they also both date. One of the things I learned in college is that nothing is as black-and-white as lots of people seem to think. But those are lessons you’ll learn with people your own age.”

The girls fell quiet, and Bitty wondered if he’d been too harsh.

“Sorry,” he said. “It’s not for me to tell you what to do when you get to college. But for now, I have to keep an eye out for you. And if you want a long lecture on power dynamics in relationships, I can set something up with Shitty.”

By the time Bitty went to bed that night, he was glad his cousins came, and even happier that he would be taking them back to the airport to head home tomorrow. It might be nice if they ended up in Bostpn for school, but if that happened, they’d be busy with their own friends and lives, and he could just drop in with pie and sympathy from time to time. Teenagers were exhausting.

Bitty woke up when Jack came in, probably somewhere around 3 a.m., and promptly followed Jack’s instructions to go back to sleep. He slept better than he had since Jack left, cocooned in the warm bed with his warmer fiance.

He didn’t even wake up when Jack, who by rights should be more exhausted than he was, got up in the morning. Or at least it appeared that way, when he rolled over to snuggle into Jack’s said and found only cool sheets.

It was clearly full daylight, so Bitty checked his phone. It was only 8:30, but probably time to get up if he was going to get the girls to the airport in time for their 12:30 flight. There should still be time for pancakes if he could get them up soon.

He washed up and headed for the kitchen, drawn by the sound of giggles, a little surprised that they were already up.

He almost couldn’t believe the sight that met his eyes: Ellie and Missy, attempting to cook (French toast, maybe?) in his kitchen, but overcome with laughter as Jack, clearly just returned from a run, tried to figure out who was who. He wasn’t helped by the way they kept switching names on him just to make it worse.

Bitty stepped into the kitchen and removed the smoking, empty skillet from the burner.

“Ellie,” he said, pointing, “and Missy, didn’t your mother tell you not to leave a pan on a hot burner unattended?”

“We’re right here,” Ellie said.

“And yet the pan was smoking,” Bitty said. “You also should ask before cooking in someone else’s kitchen.”

“We just wanted to make breakfast to thank you for letting us stay,” Missy said. “Mom said we should.”

“She said you should start cooking in my kitchen without asking?” Bitty asked, because Aunt Connie set the standard for possessiveness over her kitchen. Which, come to think of it, might be why Ellie and Missy didn’t have any kitchen sense.

“She just said we should do something,” Missy said.

“Well, I’ll consider myself thanked, and you two can go pack your things,” Bitty said. “Breakfast in twenty minutes.”

“Are you sure we can’t stay and help?” Ellie said. “We’re mostly packed.”

“Maybe you could teach us,” Missy said.

It was her eyes straying away to Jack that gave her away.

“If you want,” Bitty said sweetly. “Jack can help, too.”

“Me?” said Jack, putting his water glassin the sink. “What do you need, bud?”

“Can you please…? Hmmm, I don’t know. Maybe put a shirt on?” Bitty asked. “You know, for kitchen safety and all that.”

#omgcheckplease #omg check please #zimbits #my fic #prompt fill

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goldenhour-s · 4 years

Text

tomorrow, it's 2 months since my parents’ car accident.

aka an update on me and my family’s situation.

TW: car accidents, (physical) disability, trauma.

today, mom got home after numerous transfers between hospitals and rehab centres (all switches due to covid and whole wards being shut down and readjusted for the pandemic’s second wave in poland; it’s been fucking HELL). she’s probably gonna be transferred to yet another hospital next week, because it’s absolutely CRUCIAL mama is rehabilitated without a major break.

it’s the first time we’re seeing each other in over a month, and let’s be real, the 2 visits i managed to have in september were short and it feels like ages ago.

everything has been hectic as the situation changes from day to day, plans have to be adjusted or cancelled, and the house was simply not ready to welcome a patient who still cannot sit up on their own, NOW.

mom’s doing better, though. there are visible improvements thanks to the rehab, and it’s amazing to see how from no leg&hip movements at all back in september, mom can now straighten her right leg on her own, can move the leg to the sides, can even move her right hip. her left side is “stubborn and uncooperative” at times as she says, but it’s improving as well, just... visibly slower.

the rehab professionals keep saying mom has high chances of walking, one day. but, again, it’s crucial she’s in constant rehabilitation. first months after the post-accident surgery are of utmost importance for a patient to get better in the future.

it’s been so tough, so fucking tough for my whole family. mentally, we’re all kind of mess; physically, we’re a mess but getting by; financially, well. we’re trying to apply for various aids from the government, there’s of course some insurance money icoming, there are savings... but there are no endless purses, you know? i’ve already thought about setting up a gofundme, but i don’t wanna do it unless i’m sure i can’t do anything else.

it’s scary to admit that, at some point, you can only trust that there will be some good, able people out there to help you simply because they’re willing and capable.

i think i’ll be able to open build commissions soon-ish, probably before the end of this month. any money’s good money in times like these, you know? so, even though i won’t charge much, it’ll count.

if you’re reading this and would like to (and are able to!) help us out a bit, you can do so via my kofi - you just donate by buying a virtual coffee that’s 3 bucks. if you decide to do that, i’d be so grateful, honestly. among hospitalization & various medical expenses which revolve around mama’s rehabilitation, i’m still trying to see my therapist once a week... and of course it’s a cost that i feel guilty for. i don’t think my mental health could take a therapy loss now, though. i’m already struggling while being able to ease this post-traumatic mental shit once a week.

i’m not in the best shape mentally, that’s a fact; i know no one could blame me under these circumstances. despite that, i managed to prepare 7! lots for simblreen, additional one is coming, then i have 3 newly renovated evergreen harbor apartments, functional and cc-free/cc-light, aaand i wanna make another 2 glimmerbrook builds. soooo if you like my works in ts4 and you wanna send me a thank you coffee via kofi, damn i won’t be mad lmao

it’s not a post about donations, and again, please do not send me a singLE COIN! if you can’t afford that. this year took a toll on so many of us, it’s scary. but... we’re still here, aren’t we?

i think i’m gonna end it here; i’m EXHAUSTED after today’s reunion. the emotions, all these nerves, it got me mad tired. i’m impossibly grateful i could see mom again, though, and to have her show her improvements in person, and to see her reunions with our cats and dog, and to see my parents tear up at the sight of each other-- yeah. today’s been a lot.

mama is safe and sound at home for now, but we’re looking into yet another rehab centre option. until that - i’ll be busy tending to her, entertaining her and simply enjoying our time together. it’s been a while, and the time that passed has been impossibly difficult.

stay safe.

alka

#text #tw car accident #tw disability #tw trauma #long and personal post out here yup #i decided to open up on simblr oop

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sleekervae · 4 years

Text

The Neighbour [0.3]

Something was irrevocably different with Remington; Emerson picked it off right away. On an early Tuesday afternoon, with the air thick and humid and the sun beating down like a plague (no pun intended), Remington was fussing over himself more than usual. He had changed out of four or five different outfits, playing with his hair, and was it appropriate for him to wear makeup? Eva hadn't seen him with it on, yet. No, it was probably best to keep it casual for now. Then again, he had a fantastic highlight that worked absolute magic under the sun...

It was around eleven thirty when Remington finally came down, dressed down but still presentable in a simple pair of ripped skinny jeans and a t-shirt. Emerson and Shy were sat on the couch as they watched Netflix, Pepper situated between them. Remington stopped short when he saw the pair cuddled up on the couch, he smiled deviously.

"Eugh! You guys are so flippin' cute it's gross!" he gushed, putting on his diva voice.

Shy chuckled softly, "Hi Rem,"

Emerson's attention diverted to his older brother, intrigued to see him all ready to go out somewhere.

"Where are you going?" he asked.

"Coffee with Eva," Remington replied simply.

"The neighbour with the cat?" Shy said.

"Yeah," Remington nodded, "Emerson tell you she gave us a loaf of bread last week?"

"He did," she smiled, "Poor thing, I felt for her. She looked so flustered at the pool,"

"Well, moving is a bitch already. Throw in Covid 19 and you got a real thorn in the ass," Emerson said, then turning back to his brother, "You gonna' be social distancing?"

"We're going to drink our coffee and walk around in the park," Remington replied, "She works from home anyway,"

"So, who asked who for the coffee?" Emerson asked.

Remington shrugged, stopping at the hallway mirror to fix his hair again, "She brought up how she hasn't had a chance to get around the neighbourhood, so I offered, she accepted. She has our vinyl too,"

"Which one?" Emerson asked.

"Boom Boom Room,"

"Side A or B?"

"A,"

"I'd approve either way,"

Shy couldn't help but subconsciouly squeeze Emerson's arm, a glimmer of excitement bursting behind her eyes, "So, she's a fan, too?"

"Took her a minute to figure it out. Didn't even bring up Em or Seb, so clearly she pays more attention to me," the blonde smirked.

Emerson glowered at his brother, "Yeah, yeah, go for your cup of fuck-off-ee," he grumbled.

Across the street, with her room strewn in discarded clothes that just didn't make the cut, Eva finally felt confident standing in her denim skirt and black tee. On any other day she'd have paired the ensemble with her pleather jacket, but it was too damn hot out. Even with the window letting in a cool breeze, the air was uncomfortably humid. What did she expect when moving from the Emerald City to Los Angeles?

Eva made sure to close and latch the window shut before she left, not eager for Pluto to go off on another reign of terror. Stopping to grab a fresh face mask, her phone suddenly began to vibrate in her purse. She figured it might have been Remington sending her a text, but the screen flashed to the Blocked Caller ID. Eva rolled her eyes and denied the call.

Stepping out into the humidity, Eva waved her hand over her face as she stepped out of the complex courtyard, just at the same time Remington was locking the door to his house. As soon as she caught his eye, he was all smiles.

She was glad to see him; a little relieved, even. He looked cool, cool enough to appear on some grungy magazine cover. All he needed to complete the look was a cigarette and maybe a skateboard, too. The messy blonde hair, the glimmer in his eyes brought back the warmth she associated with his presence and as she came to meet him at his car, his spicy cologne danced up her nose and imprinted itself in her olfactory memory.

Remington had never been more wary of how his hands shook, his left hand he stuffed into his jean pocket and the right he gripped his car keys with a vice-esque grip. He found himself mesmerized briefly by the fit of her skirt, her black t-shirt tucked in smoothly but not too tight to over expose her figure, but just enough to give Remington an idea. Her short brown hair fell delicately over her face, one side pushed back behind her ears and exposing her stormy blue eyes to the sunshine. She was the embodiment of innocence and grunge wrapped into a perfect five-foot-six package.

"Glad you didn't stand me up," he grinned.

"Well, I kind of happen to live right over there," she drawled, pointing to her balcony, "It'd be kind of awkward and hard to hide if I tried,"

"You look really nice," he nodded after a brief moment.

"So do you," she agreed with confidence, "Where we off to?"

There was a forested park not far from where they lived. Despite the pandemic, the fields were filled with older kids playing games of soccer and basketball, there were vendors out trying to sell their ice cream, a couple girls were scattered across the grass and sunbathing. It almost all seemed so normal, if not for the fact that the kid's jungle gym had been fenced off so no child could climb upon it.

The pair walked side-by-side, him with his iced black coffee and her with a green tea frapp -- no whipping cream. The gravel path they walked was shaded by a canopy of lush green trees, providing some relief from the hammering heat. Remington kept his gaze locked on her, worried to miss a moment where she'd crack a smile or briefly run her tongue over her lips. Her fingers appeared so dainty yet he could spot the small calluses at the middle joint of her thumb, and some paper cuts on her middle and index fingers.

"So, how does a ghostwriter get hired?" Remington asked, "Do you just openly advertise 'hey! If you're a lazy author, come hire me'?"

"No," Eva shook her head with a giggle, "I used to write articles for the newsletter at my college, and then a friend of mine forwarded me an email about a client who was looking for a ghostwriter. I didn't know much about it but the money was pretty good. It was a grant application for requesting financial aid for survivors of residential schools,"

"Sounds depressing," Remington said.

"It was pretty heavy shit," Eva admitted, "But, I did get fifteen-hundred for a six page application. Well worth it, I'd say,"

Remington blew an impressed whistle, "So you make pretty good money off of this?"

"Let's just say my student debt has decreased significantly since I took up the profession," and she took a brief sip of her drink.

"You ever publish anything under your own name?" he asked, "Eva Kuznetsov is a cute pen name. Evelina sounds more mature, though..."

Eva shrugged, "I think about it sometimes... but it's just easier to write under someone else's name and let them have all the glory. Say, if they happen to do something stupid to forever tarnish their career, that won't come back to bite me in the ass,"

Remington smirked, "Like a particular fantasy author who's made some pretty heavy comments concerning the trans community?"

"Let's not even talk about that, my heart still breaks when I think about it," Eva sighed, "To answer your question, however, if I got confident enough I may try to publish something in the future,"

"What else do you like to write?"

Eva opened her mouth but closed it quickly, pressing together her petunia pink lips as she visibly swallowed whatever words were about to pass through them. When she looked up at Remington again, his brown eyes dark like soaked coffee grinds that sent her into a caffeinated headrush. What would he think if she actually told him...

"I write poems, some short stories," she somewhat lied.

Remington's smile grew wider, mischief glimmering over his face like light beams reflecting over windchimes in a saturated dusk, "You hesitated just now," he spoke curiously, "What else do you write?"

Eva glanced down at the ground, a nervous giggle bubbling out and knocking the air out of her lungs, "Okay listen, don't judge me, it's just a hobby of mine,"

"Oh God!" Remington gasped, "Do you write porn?"

Eva laughed again, her pale cheeks flushing in red, "Well... I do happen write some naughty shit... in my fanfictions,"

Remington stopped dead in his tracks, taken aback by her answer. He totally thought she would say something along the lines of erotic fiction on a platform like Literotica. For understandable reasons, he had some mixed emotions about fanfictions.

"What kind of fanfiction?" he asked, somewhat bordering on the third degree.

"... Um..." she glanced at him again, the smirk on his lips compelling more giggles to burst from hers. She pressed her hands together over her nose and mouth, and Remington laughed as well.

"Okay listen, I promise," he put his right hand over his chest, "I promise I will not judge you for whatever smut you write for whoever," he assured her.

"It's not... yeah, I guess it kind of is," Eva chuckled nervously, "I usually write for stuff like Criminal Minds, but more lately I've gotten into writing for Euphoria..." she trailed off, timid as she waited for his response.

"Alright, that's actually not bad," he nodded, "I'll be honest, you didn't strike me as somebody who write fanfics,"

Eva glanced timidly at her scuffed sneakers, kicking up pebbles and dust, "Are fanfic writers supposed to look a certain way?"

"I don't know, actually," he simpered.

"I don't tell a lot of people that I do it, mainly because their first impression is either 'what the fuck' or 'OMG we should collaborate' and I'm just like," she hung her head back, "Nooo!"

"You're more of a soloist then a team player, then?" he teased.

"Let's just say I tend to work better alone," she replied, shrugging her shoulders as though the comment should mean nothing. But Remington found it odd that Eva was out here all on her own, never brought up her friends or family. He didn't see many personal effects in her apartment, neither.

"Is that why you're out here by yourself?" he asked.

"What do you mean?" she replied.

"Well... don't take this the wrong way, but I haven't really seen you with anybody. You don't talk about your friends or your family,"

Eva shrugged again, "They're all back in Seattle. Besides, opportunity was drying up over there and I just wanted a fresh start," she said, "Besides, Pluto's my friend,"

"Well, that's a given," he replied, "Are your parents up in Seattle?"

"My dad is," she nodded, "I don't know what my mom's doing," Remington's silent was her cue to go on, "I um... we haven't really spoken, her and I,"

"You have a falling out?" he asked suddenly.

Eva glared down at the gravel again, "You can call it that. She's a pilot and she's always flying, and so you know, I never really got to see much of her growing up. And then, she suddenly shows up for my college graduation and expects us to be one big happy family, like she has it in her head that she can make up for all the birthdays and shit she's missed. And I just didn't know what to say to her. I don't know who she is, but she's my mom," she glanced up at Remington again, "And I don't know why I'm telling you all of this,"

Remington wasn't bothered by her unloading, it seemed as though Eva needed to get things off her chest more than she realized. Her smile was sardonic and her voice petty like a comedian on stage, putting on the brave 'I don't give a fuck anymore' face.

"I find sometimes it's easier to unload to new people then it is to your friends," he said, "What does your dad do?"

"Chem professor. Which is ironic because I seriously sucked at chemistry," she replied.

"Show me a kid who didn't struggle in chem, honestly," he said, "But do you get along with your dad?"

"For the most part," she chuckled, "He's still confused as to why I choose to write anonymously, but that's his problem. What do your parents do?"

Remington chewed on the inside of his cheek, "My mom's kind of like our manager. Does a lot of production and behind the scenes stuff. And I haven't seen my dad for nearly twenty years,"

Eva was silent for a moment, studying him. He spoke with a firm grin, yet still trying to shadow that flicker of sadness within his face.

"So we both have parental issues... that's nice to know," she put on a teasing grin, "Maybe that's why we make such good friends?"

Remington swallowed thickly, "So, you are indeed confirming we are friends?"

"I am," she smiled, "It'd be nice to have whatever few I can scrape up,"

"That fact that you also live across the street means that you're now stuck with me," Remington grinned with pride.

"True," Eva hummed appreciatively, taking another sip of her drink, "Somehow, I don't think I'll mind, though,"

When Remington drove her home she gave him a sweet and polite goodbye, a hug which made his confident exterior falter for a second long enough for her to witness it through the flush in his cheeks and his lack of response. His words tripped over the length of his tongue when he tried to flush out a proper goodbye and he felt his hands began to quiver again.

And when he went to open his door, he took one last glance. The small brunette turned at the same time and met his gaze, but he was too far away to hear her sharp inhale. And when he finally went inside he fall back against the door, staring into space with the biggest grin he'd had on since... well, he couldn't remember when he last felt so excited.

#remington leith #Remington Leith imagine #palaye royale #Palaye Royale imagine #Palaye Royale fic #sebastian danzig #emerson barrett #boy bands #band imagines #band imagine blog #original story #original female character

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kelyon · 3 years

Text

Golden Rings 17: A Name

The Storybrooke sequel to Golden Cuffs

Mrs. Gold revisits her past

Read on AO3

Mrs. Gold looked on in mute horror as Hunter Duke dumped more hot sauce on his triple bacon hamburger. He’d asked Ruby to give him three meat patties with no bun and steamed broccoli instead of fries. When Mrs. Gold had questioned that lunch choice, he had explained his new diet to her.

At length.

Hunter had always been the kind of boy who thought meat and spicy food were substitutes for a personality. He’d been the star athlete at Storybrooke High, taking home championships in football and wrestling. He’d been popular with everyone--except for the one girl he’d arbitrarily decided was the hottest girl in school. That girl, the valedictorian, hadn’t given the quarterback the time of day. Not until she lost her scholarship and suddenly dating the son of a lawyer sounded like the way to the best future she would ever get.

“They do the burgers way too overdone here,” Hunter said with his mouth full. “You don’t get enough protein if it isn’t bloody.”

Mrs. Gold shrugged and took a bite of her own burger. It needed more pickles, but it was still amazing. Toasted bun, crisp lettuce, a patty that was juicy but not messy. She hadn’t had a Granny’s burger in forever. When she was a kid, her parents had taken her out for burgers every Friday night after their shop closed. Mom would bring her own supply of extra-zesty mustard and Dad…

She set her bun on her plate. On those idyllic, bygone Friday nights, her father would spend the whole meal grumbling about money and expenses and couldn’t they have eaten at home? Mom had always told him to stop worrying and enjoy the moment. It was the end of another week and they were together, happy and healthy. She’d calmed him down and kept him focused, every time there was a crisis.

Until they faced the biggest crisis of their lives.

Mrs. Gold blinked out of her thoughts. For some reason, Hunter was still talking. Maybe it looked like she was listening. She’d gotten good at that when they had dated. Now that she was listening for real, she tried to catch up.

“I keep telling my dad he needs to just change the sign. ‘Duke & Duke & Duke’ has a great ring to it, right? Or he could for ‘Duke & Sons.’ I don’t mind sharing the spotlight with Steven. Or he could leave the sign as it is and retire! ‘Duke & Duke’ is classic, everyone knows we’re the best bankruptcy lawyers in town. Just let my brother be the first Duke and I’ll be second Duke and we’ll take this firm into the future! But Dad keeps brushing me off for some reason.”

Mrs. Gold took a sip of iced tea and desperately wished it was something stronger. “Did you… go to law school?”

She had the oddest feeling that she couldn’t remember how long they had been out of high school. All she knew for sure was that Hunter had enrolled at Storybrooke Community College--and she hadn’t. It was possible that he had gotten his bachelor’s. As Hunter was fond of saying, “Cs get degrees.” But SCC didn’t have a graduate program. Had he taken more classes on the internet? Or correspondence courses? It boggled her mind to think of Hunter of all people had gotten a law degree during the years she’d been Mr. Gold’s stupid slut.

“Well actually,” he explained, “you don’t need to go to law school to take the bar exam. I’ve got a bachelor’s in poli-sci and I’ve been around lawyers all my life. My dad knows everyone at the state bar. He’ll pull some strings and I’ll be all set.”

Mrs. Gold stabbed her straw at the ice cubes in her glass. It was so fucking unfair. Hunter was an idiot child who had never worked for anything in his life. His father--Richard “Big Dick” Duke--had bought him a Humvee when he turned sixteen, a speedboat when he graduated high school, and a college education just because no son of his wasn’t going to go to college. Now he would give his son the bar exam and a ready job and everything he would need for a future, without Hunter ever having to grow up past the maturity level of a toddler.

She’d lost her virginity to this boy. One summer night after senior year, in the back seat of that gas-guzzling monstrosity. They’d been dating for a while and Hunter had been perfectly content with her amateurish attempts at blowing him. But for her, the novelty had begun to wear off. So she’d suggested that he “put it in” instead. It was mostly a way for him to get his rocks off while she could just lie back and think of something more interesting.

Her memories of that night were dark and cramped and disappointing. She kept her shoes and her bra on the whole time. When Hunter was done, she had been more confused than anything else. This is what people made such a big deal about? Wasn’t sex supposed to be better than that?

It wasn’t until later, with Mr. Gold, that she had understood what people were talking about in romance novels.

But now that things were so strained with her husband, she found herself thinking back to the only other sexual partner she’d ever had. Looking at Hunter now, she had to remind herself of how bad things had been that summer, when he had been a welcome distraction. Hunter hadn’t wanted to talk about doctors’ appointments or shop inventory or arguing with financial aid departments--every fight a losing battle. All he wanted to do was drink, screw around, and have fun, and he welcomed her along for the ride.

I thought he would help us. I was wrong. He wasn’t what I needed.

Mrs. Gold shook the thought out of her head. The thought was true, but she recognized it as not being her own, so she talked over it.

“Have you been hanging out with any of the old gang? Sean or Jesse or anyone?”

It had been exciting to be included with the rich kids, to feel like she belonged in the world of the young and the reckless--people who didn’t have to worry about things because their parents would always be around to bail them out. They could do whatever they wanted because the world belonged to them.

Hunter shrugged. “Jesse’s an idiot, so no change there. But Sean’s been such a pussy ever since Ashley had her baby.”

Ashely Boyd had been in that group with her. Rich boys liked running around with poor girls because they were easier to impress than the rich girls. New Town young ladies also had parents who bought them cars for their sixteenth birthdays. They didn’t need to rely on spoiled boys to pay their way every time they went out, so they didn’t have to go along with whatever stupidity the boys came up with. Mrs. Gold had taken a lot of risks just so Hunter would keep thinking she was interesting.

But Ashley had loved Sean for more than his money and toys. All she ever wanted was for him to love her back and stay with her. Once, Mrs. Gold had thought Ashley was stupid for pining so hard after a boy who would never commit. But now she had a little more sympathy.

“What happened with Sean?”

“Mr. Herman kicked him out, cut him off. Now he’s living at Ashley’s place, working his ass off at the fish factory.”

“The cannery,” Mrs. Gold corrected quietly. Fish King Canned Foods was always hiring. It was always looking for people who could stand waist-deep in ice and fish guts for twelve hour shifts, operating machinery that could cut through a human hand as easily as it did a whole herring. Her cousin Andrew had gotten a job right out of high school. Her Uncle Peter had worked there for twenty years before he died.

“Like I said, he’s a total pussy now. All he does is work and hang out with Ashley, work and take care of the baby, work and sleep. You know he asked her to marry him a couple days ago? Utterly whipped.”

“Wow,” she said.

She had never respected Sean Herman, so it was weird to think of him actually growing up. People didn’t usually change around Storybrooke. But now the spoiled party boy was taking responsibility for his child and the woman who loved him. He had given up his own wealth and family status because he loved a penniless girl from Old Town.

It was impressive.

She finished her burger while Hunter started another monologue, this time about all the fat, lazy, poor people who came to his father’s office to declare bankruptcy. Forget being a lawyer, he should go into talk radio.

“I did ask you to lunch for a reason.” She grabbed her chance to talk while he was taking a breath.

“Oh yeah?” Hunter wiped hot sauce off his face with the back of his hand. “What’s up?”

“You know a lot of people,” Mrs. Gold said. “I was wondering if you might know somebody that I don’t.”

He slurped up the dregs of his diet soda. “Yeah? Who?”

Mrs. Gold gripped the edge of the table and desperately hoped he wouldn’t notice how hard it was for her to say this. The gold of her wedding ring was dull on this cloudy afternoon. “I… just have a name right now. I think it’s a woman named Belle.”

She could see the wheels in his head turning as he thought. “Belle? Hmm. I don’t know.”

“She’s probably young. Maybe our age. Maybe younger. Or older? Maybe she’s one of your mom’s friends or something?”

A woman as old as Karen Duke would still be younger than Mr. Gold. Maybe he was looking for more maturity now. In the days since she found out about Belle, Mrs. Gold had been racking her brain to try to imagine what kind of person she was. She was only moderately sure that Belle even was a woman. If Mr. Gold wanted this Belle person more than he wanted his own wife, she was probably the opposite of her in some crucial way.

Hunter made a face and scratched the back of his head. “Nah, I got nothing. Sorry.”

“Yeah,” Mrs. Gold looked down at her empty plate. “I’m not surprised.”

Seeing that they were both done with their food, Ruby came up to the table. “Now is this gonna be one check or two?”

It was almost funny how quickly Hunter looked to Mrs. Gold. He panicked at the thought of paying for his own lunch. Daddy must not be giving him an allowance anymore.

“You invited me,” he said, almost chiding her with the reminder of how things worked.

“Yeah, that was my first mistake.” Mrs. Gold took the check from Ruby and pulled out her purse.

A fifty would be enough to pay for two hamburgers and Ruby’s discretion. Not that Mrs. Gold was being particularly sneaky, arranging lunch with her ex-boyfriend at the most popular restaurant in town. But that didn’t matter either. She could take Hunter to the pawn shop and bang him in front of the cash register and Mr. Gold wouldn’t give a fuck.

And neither would she.

****

Wandering listlessly up and down Main Street, Mrs. Gold tried to keep warm. The clouds were dark and heavy with more snow. The sidewalks were shoveled, but there was always a residue of dirty slush. It was the time of year when trash kept showing up in the streets, no matter how many anti-littering signs Mayor Mills put up.

Mrs. Gold’s suede boots were more fashionable than sturdy. The same could be said for her coat, scarf, and hat. The cold seeped through her flimsy layers, until she was nothing but numb and damp, until it was hard to breathe, until she was so desperate to be warm again she resolved to go into the next open store, no matter which one it was.

Sugar’n’Spice was always warm and it always smelled good. Mara Trudine burned a different scented candle every day the shop was open. Today the candle was cinnamon and cloves. The whole place smelled like cider.

Mrs. Gold entered as quietly as she could. She hadn’t been in the store since before Christmas. And she had never walked through that door without strutting proudly, loudly announcing her intentions to buy whatever lingerie it would take to drive Mr. Gold wild.

Was Mr. Gold even capable of going wild for her anymore? Or did the sight of her just turn his stomach? He thought she was trash, she disgusted him, he didn’t want her and he never would again.

Ducking behind a rack of silky robes, Mrs. Gold took a breath to calm herself down. It was a bad habit she’d developed lately, thinking of the worst-case scenario just to make herself feel something. Her mind kept poking and prodding at her pain, pulling out her darkest fears and putting them front and center. She could push it away if she concentrated. If she tried to act normal, she could almost feel normal. Sometimes.

“Oh hey.” Mara had spotted her from the sales counter in the back of the shop. “Mrs. Gold, I didn’t see you come in.”

Steeling herself, Mrs. Gold walked out from behind the robes. “That’s me.” She tried to smile.

Mara stayed where she was. Bits of fabric were spread out over the counter. It looked like she was sewing something.

Mrs. Gold’s heart skipped a beat. The fabric was a shiny yellow-gold. Sometimes, when Mr. Gold was really pleased with her, he liked her to wear that color. Without thinking about what she was doing, she began to walk towards the counter.

“What are you working on?”

Mara looked up from her needle. Even after all these years, she had the same face she’d had as a kid--sharp brown eyes, adorably crooked smile, freckles all over her round cheeks. She looked so innocent. You’d never think she made a living off of unmentionables.

“Custom order,” she said proudly. “I’ve been trying to get tailor-made lingerie off the ground for as long as I can remember. Got my first order in October and more have been coming in.” She held up the fabric and Mrs. Gold saw a pair of panties that would go up to a person’s rib cage.

“Somebody wants that?”

Mara’s excitement dimmed in the face of Mrs. Gold’s skepticism, but she did her best to explain. “It’s shapewear,” she said. “See the reinforced panels? The idea is to smooth out tummy rolls and make a more flattering silhouette.”

Mrs. Gold looked over at the rack of Spanx. “Don’t you already sell that?”

“Yeah, but the stuff I make is sturdier than the mass-produced product. Better for people with non-standard bodies. And prettier too. Nothing over there comes in straw yellow.”

It was true. Most of the stuff in that section was nude or black. Mrs. Gold knew a thing or two about wearing corsets, but she had never actually needed one. She had thought Mr. Gold liked her to be skinny.

“That is a pretty color,” she said. “Who’s it for?”

Mara looked at her dubiously. “I can’t talk about a client, it’s confidential.”

“How are you planning on getting more orders without word of mouth?”

“Well, normally word of mouth comes from customers talking about the product, not a creator talking about their customers.”

Falling into old habits, Mrs. Gold tilted her head back as her voice went up an octave. “I know, but it’s just such a pretty shade of gold, I was wondering if someone special might have ordered it...?”

She let the question hang. Mara just frowned and shook her head.

“Come on, you’re smarter than that.” She held up the garment again. “This is for a plus-sized woman. Two of you could fit in here without straining the elastic. Mr. Gold didn’t order this for you.”

Without thinking, she leaned over the counter and got in her friend’s face. “Did he order it for someone else?”

Mara’s eyes went wide. Her mouth transformed into a tiny little O of surprise. Mrs. Gold pulled away and kept her eyes on the ground.

“I’m sorry,” Mrs. Gold said. “That was out of line.”

“Wow,” Mara said softly. “I, uh, I’d heard that something had happened. But I didn’t know it was that bad. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, me too.” She turned around, pretended to look at something lacy until the urge to scream had passed. When she glanced at Mara, her brown eyes were trained on her.

“It’s not from him,” she said simply. “I’ll even tell you that my client paid with a credit card, so it was definitely her own money.”

Or maybe Mr. Gold was just covering his tracks. But at least he hadn’t called in the order himself. At least he wasn’t flaunting his disregard for her.

“Does he… Have you ever heard from him? Is he buying anybody lingerie?”

Mara shook her head. “I only see him on Rent Day.”

With nothing left to lose, she asked her old friend the same question she’d asked her ex-boyfriend. “Do you know anybody named Belle?”

Mara blinked. “I don’t… think so. The name sounds familiar, but I’m probably thinking of a character from a book or a movie. It’s not the sort of name you hear around Storybrooke.”

“No,” Mrs. Gold agreed.

“But I’ll keep my ears open, if you want.”

Mrs. Gold raised her eyebrows. “What about client confidentiality?”

“Well, whoever Belle is, she’s definitely not a client. And until Mr. Gold pays me himself, neither is he.”

You’re a good friend.

This time, Mrs. Gold didn’t swat at the thought that intruded into her head. She let it rest over her brain like a blanket. She let the thought warm her up.

She leaned against the counter and watched Mara work. The shapewear was fully constructed, and she was embroidering stalks of straw in a pattern along the sides. It was really pretty. The sort of thing that would give a girl a boost in confidence and excitement about her own body, her own clothes. Mrs. Gold remembered how fancy she’d felt the first time she wore something as simple as a bra and panties that were the same color. That sort of energy could get people through interviews or contract negotiations, any time you needed to feel powerful. Mara was helping people here, she was good at it, and it seemed to make her happy.

“So, business is good?”

“Yeah, it’s picking up. Valentine’s Day was a madhouse, but you know how that goes.”

Mrs. Gold nodded. Lingerie could be as popular as flowers when it came to last-minute gifts that men always thought would be cheaper than they were.

“Did you spend the day with anyone?”

Mara scrunched her nose. “I’m working too hard for that. Besides, I don’t meet a lot of single men in this business.”

She was able to snicker at the joke, and she was able to mean it. “Yeah, I guess not.”

They were quiet together for a minute, then Mrs. Gold asked a more personal question: “How’s your mom?”

Mara looked up from her embroidery for a second, but then went back to work. “She’s fine. I think she’s bored, now that the preschool is only open for half-days. She keeps asking me to move in with her.”

“I take it you don’t want to?”

A halfhearted shrug. “I don’t have a good reason not to. It would make sense, we could split the bills and keep each other company. But there is also something really nice about living by yourself. Even if it’s just a one bedroom apartment on top of your store.”

“I wouldn’t know.” Mrs. Gold drummed her fingers against the counter. She had gone from living with her father to living with Mr. Gold. The night after their anniversary had been the first time she had slept in any building by herself.

But she understood what Mara meant. When you lived with your parents, it was hard to feel like an adult. To make matters worse, Irma Trudine--Mara’s mother--had been a preschool teacher for as long as anyone could remember. She tended to treat everyone she talked to like they were a four-year-old whining for more juice and crackers.

Mama’s closest friend.

Now the voice was annoying her again. It was true that Irma and Mom had been good friends. That was why she had grown up with Mara as much as she had grown up with her cousin Janine. The three girls were inseparable, just like their mothers had been.

Until…

Mrs. Gold sighed. She was warmer now. She should probably buy something before she moved along.

“Do you have anything comfy around here?”

“What, like no underwire?”

“No, like pajamas, I guess. Or loungewear? I think I need to get a pair of sweatpants.”

Mara grinned. “The last time I saw you wear sweatpants, they had dinosaurs on them.”

“And they were fucking awesome.”

She had gotten those pants for her eighth birthday and worn them until the knees gave out. Even after that, Mom had cut them up for shorts and she’d worn them for another six months. If she could find sweatpants that had dinosaurs on them now, she wouldn’t think the mere act of wearing sweatpants was a sign of the end of her life.

But Sugar’n’Spice only had pajama sets with flowers on them--or hearts, but Mrs. Gold couldn’t bring herself to buy anything that looked like love. It was enough to buy comfort, something that would make it a little easier to be in her own skin.

Mara rang her up and gracefully accepted the extra fifty Mrs. Gold handed her.

“How about I call this a down payment on a custom order for you?”

Taking her bag, Mrs. Gold shrugged. “I don’t think Mr. Gold will want me in lingerie for a long time.”

“I didn’t say it was for Mr. Gold, I said it was for you.” Mara looked her steadily in the eye. “Come back some time and we can talk about what you need. Okay?”

She opened her mouth, and then closed it. “Yeah,” she said at last. “Yeah, that sounds good.”

“Good.”

****

The day wasn’t over. Mr. Gold was still in his shop. She could go there for a few hours of awkward silence. Or she could go back to the house, for a few hours of lonely silence. Then he would come home and make dinner. They would eat together and make stilted small talk. And then she would go to her bedroom, and he would go to his.

That was their life now.

He said he wanted her to stay. He said he wanted to take care of her. He said he loved somebody else.

It didn’t make sense. It was wrong. They were supposed to be together. Being near him, but not being with him, trying to act like everything was fine, trying to act like he didn’t matter to her as much as she obviously didn’t matter to him…

It was tearing her apart.

So she walked. Like a circling shark, she kept moving so she wouldn’t drown. She was trapped. Storybrooke was a small town, there were only so many places you could go in one day. And she had lots of days ahead of her. Mrs. Gold had the image of the rest of her life, stretching out to the horizon. She would have to keep walking, she would never be able to rest. She would never have a home again.

She was in Old Town now. The flower shop was behind her. Aunt Teri’s yellow and purple house was on this street. How many times had she walked the route between those two places? Her whole childhood, her whole life until she married Mr. Gold and moved into his house. She used to belong in this neighborhood.

Was there a way she could belong here again?

Turning at the plastic sign that said Hair Today! she went to the side door of the yellow house and knocked. Then she stepped away from the door and waited for an answer. She held herself against the cold.

Janine came up from the basement salon. Her mouth opened when she saw Mrs. Gold.

“Oh hi,” she said. “Mrs. Gold, you don’t… usually knock.”

“Yeah, I’m usually a bitch to you and I’m sorry.” She hadn’t meant to start that way, but she couldn’t avoid the truth anymore.

Janine’s eyebrows raised and her sky-blue eyes--a family trait--went wide. “O...kay,” she said slowly. Stepping outside, she shut the door behind her. The cold made her keep her arms crossed over her chest. ��What’s going on?”

“I…” She didn’t know what to say. She had started, but what was the next step? “Things suck, right now, for me. And I kind of suck too. And I realized…”

What had she realized? That no one in her family would help her in an emergency? That she had built her whole identity around one relationship and without that she had nothing? That she had spent years intentionally, maliciously, pushing away all the people that had loved her in exchange for a man who only paid her? That all of those things were really fucking shitty? None of that was a realization. Mrs. Gold had always known what her life was. But she was just now starting to care.

“I realized I’m sorry,” she said. “For as long as I’ve been with Mr. Gold, I’ve been so caught up in him and it made me a worse person. And I want to be better.” She looked at Janine. “You deserve a better cousin.”

Janine sighed, her breath visible in the twilight. “So the honeymoon is finally over, huh? Are you tired of him or is he tired of you?”

Mrs. Gold pressed her lips together. Of course it wouldn’t be that easy. At the same time, she didn’t begrudge her cousin the snark.

“He’s tired of me,” she admitted softly. “And I’m kind of tired of me too.”

Now Janine looked more sympathetic. “What happened?”

“You didn’t hear? I thought everyone in Storybrooke knew by now.”

“Yeah, no, I’ve heard a lot of rumors. But I’m asking you what happened. What’s the truth?”

“He loves someone else.” The words slipped from her mouth like a burden off her shoulders. “Some Belle person. And like, like he loves her, Janine. More than he ever loved me.”

“Oof,” Janine let out a long breath. “Oh honey, that’s terrible. I’m sorry.”

Until now, Janine had been standing in the doorway, and Mrs. Gold had been in the driveway, with about five feet between them. Janine stepped out first, one arm open in invitation. The two cousins met in the middle. They didn’t hug, exactly, but they huddled together for warmth and comfort.

“Do you need to stay with us?” Janine asked. “We never did anything with Andrew’s room after--”

“No,” she shook her head. Mr. Gold asked her to stay with him, and even that had to be better than sleeping in her dead cousin’s bedroom. “I’m fine, I… He’s taking care of me.”

“What, like alimony?”

“No, we’re not… I’m not leaving him.”

Janine pulled away. “But you said he loved someone else.”

She nodded. “He does, but he doesn’t want the marriage to be over.”

There was a moment of silence while Janine’s face twisted in anger and disbelief. Then she burst out: “Oh screw him! Does he really get to decide that? That man is cheating on you and you don’t even get the satisfaction of walking away? Come on!”

Mrs. Gold couldn’t look her in the face. “It’s not as simple as that,” she said. “I--I married him, I need him, I…” The next words were small and soft: “I don’t want the marriage to be over either.”

Closing her eyes, Janine pressed the heel of her palm to her forehead. “I don’t know what to say,” she said. “I mean, the sanctity of marriage is great and all, but Mr. Gold has been nothing but bad to you for so long. And now you have a reason to get out, but you’re not taking it? Why?”

“Because this is different,” she said the words before she knew what they meant. “He’s different than he was when we got married. There’s something… good about him now. Something kind and gentle. Something that wasn’t there before.”

Janine rolled her eyes. “So now you have feelings for the monster?”

“He’s not a monster now. Maybe he was before--I can see that more clearly now. But now the only thing he’s doing wrong is… not wanting me. And it hurts, but it’s not an evil thing.”

He’s my husband and I love him. Can you understand that?

Shifting her weight back and forth, Janine kept her arms over her chest. “And he’s not… hurting you anymore?”

She shook her head. “Not even in a way I like.”

“Gross,” Janine said, matter-of-factly. “I mean, good for you that it used to be something you liked, but it is very gross for me to think about. Too much information is a very real thing.”

Both of them snickered at that. The years of lingering tension eased a little more.

“Can you at least stay for dinner? We’re having Spaghetti-Os a la Chloe.”

“Chloe’s cooking?” How old was she now?

“It was her idea. Under careful supervision, she is going to dump a can of Spaghetti-Os into a pot and warm it up. Mom might even let her into the spice cabinet for some basil.”

“Oh, that sounds like fun.” She shuffled her feet. “But I should get going. I still eat with Mr. Gold. It’s… weird.”

“I bet.” Janine put her hands in the pockets of her work smock. “Listen, I… I’m sorry. All this time… I could have been a better cousin too. We--I think the general idea was that… we were waiting for you to meet us halfway.”

“I get that,” she said. “And I never came close to halfway. Not with anybody.”

“Well, you did today. And I’m glad. We missed you.”

Nodding, she tried to keep the tears out of her eyes. All this time, she could have had her family. If she had just eased up on being Mrs. Gold, she could have been the same girl everyone had loved.

“I’m trying to make things better now, you know?”

Janine nodded. “I know.” They were quiet for a minute, then she asked. “Have you talked to your dad lately?”

“Not yet,” she shook her head. “Not him or Uncle Manny. I… I kinda thought I’d start easy.”

Janine half-smiled, half-winced. “Manny will be happy to see you. You’re the only niece he’s got.”

She snorted. “I’m the only daughter my dad has and that didn’t make anything any easier.”

“He loves you, Lacey,” Janine said. It was the first time Mrs. Gold had heard her first name in as long as she could remember. “We all do.”

#golden rings #rumbelle #rumbelle fic #ouat #you like ocs? I've got so many ocs

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thotsforvillainrights · 4 years

Text

~Job Hunting~

Au: Roommates

Part: Three

Theme: general

As usual the day started with a loud knock at your door before Magne burst inside. You groaned and fastened the blanket over your head, gripping it as tightly as possible in case she decided to yank it off. No, Magne was going to take the better approach to the situation. She moved to open your room curtains and light instantly flooded the room. It was ineffective against the forcefield of your blanket though. You had hoped she’d leave you be, but nooooo...

She just had to call in the big guns.

“Alright Toga, plan B! She/He/They won’t get up!” By the time she said that, it was too late to raise your white flag of surrender. “OOOF!” You huffed when the sudden slamming weight jumped on top of your body. “Jesus Toga, get the hell off me!!!” Himiko just giggled and began to tickle you until you jolted out of bed yourself. “Good job!” Magne praised her and she smiled widely. “Alright, now that you’re up Y/N, we gotta get our asses on top of this job hunting or else we’ll all be moving out faster than we moved in.” Magne spoke seriously and you nodded. She was right after all. You guys had your fun already. The moving process was over, you already had dinner at multiple places on this side of town, and you threw an absolute rager of a housewarming party last weekend. Now it was time to get serious and do adult stuff. You sighed and went to get ready for the day ahead. Once finished, both the girls were already in the car munching on toast. “We can stop somewhere and get lunch after a while if that’s okay.” Magne asked you and you nodded. “Alright! We’ve used all our connections and rounded up the places for our best possible options! First stop on the list is just a few blocks away!” Magne informed excitedly before pulling out of the parking spaces and heading towards the first destination:

The tattoo shop where Dabi worked as Assistant Manager.

The bell that hung above the door dinged as the three of you entered the shop (resume’s in hand) and approached the desk where Dabi sat. He sighed and placed the flash sheet away to look up at you 3. “Alright, you actually were being serious about the whole job thing?” He sighed in annoyance and Magne gasped. “Uhm yeah!? I wasn’t kidding around when I said that to you the other day!” Dabi pinched the skin on the bridge of his nose and looked back up at everyone. “I wanna first off start by saying, you need to have some sort of skill to do this. The art, AND the steadiness of your hands as well. Oh and you have to have a relationship with blood.” When he said this, Toga gasped excitedly. “Ugh, a GOOD relationship with it.” Dabi added and Toga frowned, turning to walk out of the shop in defeat. “How are the hours? Can I request a lot of days off in case I have to get a second job?” Magne asked curiously and Dabi just burst out into laughter. “You’re a fucking hilarious chick!!!” He laughed at her (even as she turned to walk out of the shop too). “Then I guess that just leaves you huh?” He smirked at you mischievously. “Do you wanna try for it?” He asked, quickly yanking your resume from your hands and giving it a look over. “Wow, you’re pretty impressive but I’ll be honest with you...” He handed your resume back. “We really don’t give a shit about what grade you graduated with in college algebra. Come back with a portfolio of your artwork and then you’ll be in business. If you think you’re interested in it of course.” Dabi winked and got back to work. “Oh okay, thank you.” You spoke quietly and quickly headed out the door. “So how is it for you? Did we land it?” Magne and Toga looked at you expectedly. “Honestly I probably did if I wanted to work there, but I don’t think I have enough time to put together an entire portfolio before our first rent is due. On top of that, I have to spend money on my own equipment and the apprentice thing doesn’t pay until I get my tattoo license. In all reality, this seems like a long term process. Let’s just check out the next spot please?” Magne nodded and drove off to the next place:

The Plus Ultra Tech Store where Spinner works.

The three of you entered the store and you smiled when you noticed Spinner behind the counter tinkering with an old keyboard. He looked up and directly at you as a blush started on his cheeks. “H-hey Y/N.” You smiled lightly and opened your mouth to greet him back but Toga spoke up first. “Spin Spin!!! I came to see if you had an open position or two orrrr three???” She approached the counter and excitedly slapped her palms down. “Okay whoa hey! First of all please quiet down, and second of all don’t call me Spin Spin. Anyway, gimme your Resumes.” Spinner took each of them and looked them over thoroughly (which took a bit so Toga and Magne went to look through the store). He sighed when he finished and looked over at you. “You guys have pretty darn good credentials but that’s not gonna play too much of a part here. Hey guys! Can you come over here real quick?” Spinner called out to them and the two of them made it to the desk fast af. “Okay, I really don’t wanna hurt you guys feelings but I’m gonna be frank here: Do any of you know how to fix technology?” Spinner was met with silence and confused expressions. “Uh...okay. Well do any of you have extensive knowledge on movies, tech, or video games slash consoles?” Spinner was once again met with silence. “DO ANY OF YOU KNOW HOW TO SET UP A CELL PHONE AND ARE YOU OKAY WITH DOING IT FOR MOST OF THE DAY?”

“Oh I can!!!”

“Alright you’re hired then.” Spinner sighed and took Toga’s resume. “I can try to ask my manager to open up some more positions for you two if you want. I really don’t wanna leave you out and-” You gently placed a hand on his shoulder and smiled sweetly at him. “It’s alright Shuichi, don’t worry! Just hiring Toga has helped us a ton. Now all we have to do is focus on Mags and I, and we’ll just be A-OK.” You winked at him and pat his shoulder, watching him look away quickly as he tried to hide that cute blush of his. You and Magne headed back to the car and waited for Toga to finish up the impromptu interview/hiring process. Finally she burst out of the store doorway and skipped back to the car happily with a folded uniform in her arms. “We did it!!!!” She shouted happily once she got into the back seat. You laughed and Magne playfully rolled her eyes. “No you did it, crazy. Me and Y/N still got at least 3 more places to head to. Next stop is:

The University Shigaraki attends.

Once you guys made it there, Magne texted real quick and Shigaraki approached the car car 5 minutes later. He knocked on the driver window and Magne rolled it down. “A Sorento...really? I honestly saw you driving a bug or a smart car.” Tomura played with the door interior and Magne slapped his hand away. “Excuse you, Mr. California Raisin but my Mom gave me this car and it’s fully payed off. AND it’s a 2018, so let’s see you do better hmm?”

“I drive a 2019 Prius.”

“A Prius and you???” Magne burst into laugher and Toga giggled from the back seat. “Get the fuck out of the stupid Sorento and let’s go. I don’t have time to waste. My next class is in like 40 minutes and I still gotta get some lunch to eat.” Tomura grumbled as your crew made it out of the car. You all trekked near Tomura across the campus while he pulled out his map and argued with Magne the quickest routes to places. “Listen here you ashy bitch, I’m telling you if we cross over in FRONT of the cafeteria then we can make it to the biology building faster than if we took that sidewalk by the financial aid office.” She tapped the paper furiously and Tomura growled. “No you listen Mop headed slut, I go to school here so it’s ME that knows where we’re supposed to be. I have TWO teachers to introduce to you and Y/N each and it’s gonna take me a bit to get there so let me do it my way.” He grumbled back at her and she snatched the map. Toga leaned over to whisper in your ear as you two continued to walk behind them. “Those two argue like a married couple. 20 bucks says they’ll be dating by Christmas of this year.” You quietly laughed and pushed her to the side. “Shut it Himiko, or they’ll both kill us!” Suddenly the whole group stopped walking as two familiar faces approached. “Hey, what are you guys doing on campus? I thought you all graduated college already last year or whatever.” Hari spoke with a welcoming smile as Kai stood next to him. “Good evening you three. Thank you for inviting us to that party last week. It was nice to not focus on schoolwork for a moment of two.” Kai added peacefully. “Oh not biggie really! And we’re here because me and Y/N have to go see two teachers here for a possible position as a secretary, or teachers assistant. Tomura’s dumbass is failing as our lead to them though.” Magne and Shigaraki glared at each other for a moment.

“Well Kai just got out for the day and my next class isn’t till later tonight since I’m taking mainly night classes and all. Why don’t I take Magne to the first teacher, and Kai can take Y/N. That way you can go eat or whatever Tomura. Besides, I owe you after you helped me with the programming homework I had before I changed my major last semester.” Hari explained and Magne squealed. “Oh such a gentleman, say less!” She grabbed Hari’s arm and he laughed nervously before she pulled him along, following the map and chatting as if they’d known each other forever. Tomura explained where to find the other teacher and then he left eagerly towards the cafeteria with Toga tagging along (because she genuinely wanted to see what the food was like here). “Thanks again for leading me there. I know you’d probably have places you’d rather be huh.” You spoke up and Kai laughed slightly. “Oh no, think nothing of it. Any escape I get from having to focus on this work all the time is perfect for me. Besides, I feel like we should get to know each other since we only just met through Shigaraki’s invite to your housewarming. You seem like an interesting person with a charming personality and a stunning face...I mean as if that has anything to do with it.” He cleared his throat and looked forward. “Wow, that was a terrible save.” You teased him, hinting at his little compliment he threw in there. “Anyway Kai, what are you going to graduate in? Like your major and all.”

“Biological Sciences and Pre-Med. After that, I gotta head to Med school 2 cities away from here.”

“Wow, off to do great things huh? I’m kinda sad knowing that now haha. Seems like we don’t have much time to get to know each other after the next few semesters and all.”

“Oh well I wouldn’t put it that way. After all, we still have phones. And when I’m passing through to visit family on holidays, I’ll be sure to drop in and see you...and everyone else haha.”

“Wow, another bad save.” You continued to tease him and he laughed it off. You guys seemed to make it to your destination in no time. Kai was kind enough to wait around outside while you chatted in the building with the English teacher. When you came out he looked at you with worry apparent on his face. “Did it go well?” You immediately shed your fake somber expression and smiled widely. “I don’t know, but you’ll just have to ask me that when I clock in next week!!!!” You jumped up and down excitedly. “Hey that’s great! Let’s go out to celebrate with coffee or something eventually.” You smiled and nodded. It didn’t take too much longer to get back home with Toga and Magne. Turns out Magne failed the interview pretty bad but luckily she made it into a pretty cushy job with Twice and Hawks at the store in the Mall she really loved (just think Spencers pls). “Well I’d say we achieved our goals for today so let’s go blow the rest of our cash on a crap ton of junk food and binge watch Netflix at the house!” Magne cheered on the way home as you and Toga joined her. Hopefully this job would last long, and hopefully it would bring you some peace at mind when it comes to financial stability because after all...

you still needed to save money for a car👀

(but that’s a story for another time)

»—————————–———————————————————–✄

Instagram: @pastelbattydraws & @pastelbattystore

YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCRNMJH7vHL7APNobUykhK4w?view_as=subscriber

#au #roommates au #big sis magne #big sis mag #magne #toga himiko #dabi #spinner #tomura shigaraki #kai chisaki #Hari Kurono #hawks #jin bubaigawara #bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia

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chickensarentcheap · 4 years

Text

Never Gonna Be Alone- Chapter 5

Title: Neighbours

Warnings: none

Tagging: @c-a-v-a-l-r-y, @alievans007, @innerpaperexpertcloud, @tragiclyhip

The ‘to do list’ is long and lengthy but not unmanageable.

Inside and outside decorations, picking out a tree and having it dropped off the next day, last minute presents and stocking stuffers to grab, a massive grocery list that includes the usual staples and the ‘extras’ that always make their appearance at Christmas time. The convenience of a big city is one thing she’s always missed; malls with everything you need under one roof, strips of your favorite, eclectic little shops, delivery for everything under the sun. Never having to own a car; Uber and taxis summoned with just one phone call, the subway just a block away. The younger Esme...the one fresh off a shitty first marriage...had loved every second in New York City. That spacious loft -with its exposed brick walls and industrial lighting and Juliet balcony- in Brooklyn, the Broadway shows she’d attend, the high end shops like Tiffany’s, Chanel, and Prada that she’d do little more than browse in; dreaming about all the things she would buy if she was ever fortunate enough to have money to burn. Trips to Central Park; reading a book or sipping a latte while sitting on the edge of the fountain or treating herself to lunch at Tavern on the Green. She’d never been bored; filling every minute of her free time with something new to experience. Taking the subway into different ethnic areas; trying new foods and drink and buying newly discovered -to her- spices and intriguing ingredients to try out at home. And while she’d been alone, she’d never been lonely; always finding ways to keep herself busy.

While it’s nice to come back and spend time in the BIg Apple, she no longer misses it with such intensity. THAT Esme..the one who’d lived in that loft apartment and who’d window shop at the high end retailers...no longer exists. She died almost thirteen years ago; her life coming to end on the Sultana Kamal Bridge. It had been time; out with the old, in with the new. And there’d been something so incredibly empowering about it; never returning to either the city or Colorado and having her step father pack up the necessities and ship them to her. Many people would consider it foolish; throwing a somewhat stable and comfortable life away for something so different. A country on the other side of the world, a man she barely knew yet her heart was certain she was in love with, a tiny and cramped apartment outside of Sydney with barely any clothes in the closet and only second hand, mismatched furniture to decorate the place. But it had turned out to be everything she’d wanted; a change in pace and scenery and a life she never knew she was missing out on. That man she barely knew outside of sex quickly proving to be the love of her life; not just a lover, eventual spouse and baby daddy, but her best friend. The one and only person she truly trusted; who’d been so willing to give up his life to save hers and made her feel safe and protected...and LOVED...in ways she’d never experienced before.

Australia quickly became home. Despite the lingering issues from Dhaka -the slow healing process and the financial issues and the worry of retaliation IF word ever got out that he had survived- they’d been happy. Not needing much; enjoying those evenings on the couch, watching television and eating ice cream right out of the container, those trips -as a couple and then newlyweds and eventually with a tiny Millie in her daddy’s arms, the long and quiet -and often post coital- conversations that had become their norm. They’d gone through a hell of an ordeal together; forming a bond that other people simply couldn’t understand. Both of them could have easily died that day; Tyler from his injuries, her due to the decision she’d made to stick around in an effort to keep him alive. After that, they’d sworn to never take a single second for granted; enjoying the ‘getting to know you’ process even as a newly married couple and her with a baby growing in her belly. It hadn’t been a conventional start to things; those five days in that cramped and dirty hotel room in Dhaka followed by an unexpected little bundle and her decision to give up her old life. But it had worked. THEY had worked. Despite all the odds stacked against them and everything that said they shouldn’t. The ordeal they’d survived giving them an appreciation of each other; putting down that foundation of respect and mutual awe that everything else could -and would- be built upon.

As amazing as it all sounds -finding the love of your life, discovering your own slice of paradise, starting a family- it’s work. Love and everything that comes with it is a lot of work, in fact. It’s arguments over both stupid shit and important issues; it’s hurt and anger and bitterness due to miscommunication or simply not taking the others feelings into considering. It’s learning how the other works and functions so you can be the one to provide comfort, stability, and aid; patience and deep rooted concern and the desire to keep them safe and healthy driving you.

Lust is one thing; immense physical attraction extremely important and definitely an added bonus. But at the end of the day, it’s other forms of intimacy that keep things alive and well; the simple act of holding hands while sitting on the couch or even driving in the car, the unexpected hugs and kisses, the little things you do for one another without even thinking, the teasing and the laughter and the conversations. It’s one thing to love someone and physically WANT them, it’s another to actually ENJOY them; their company and their smile and the sound of their voice and the way they cheer you up even on the worst days. How they talk you through hard times and how quick they are to dry your tears and want to make things right; willing to do anything and everything within their power to make you happy and to feel wanted and appreciated. It’s all those things that keep things going even when they feel like they’re falling apart.

******

“Mum!” TJ calls, as he bounds down the stairs and through the immense space that make up the living and dining areas; an easy and clean flow directly into the counter. “Check it out! You gotta see my outfit?”

With a mug of tea pressed to her lips, she glances up from the spiral notebook in front of her. It’s one of many that usually take up residence in one of the kitchen drawers; a different colour cover indicating which kid it is assigned to, two for things that are needed when it comes to household items and repairs, another for things like groceries and personal products. She’s always been organized, but something ‘snapped’ over the course of the last five years; an obsessive of sorts when it comes to keeping affairs in order.

“What the heck are you wearing?” she inquires, as her oldest son sprints through the living and dining area and then uses his socks to allow him to slide the rest of the way. An almost victorious and proud grin on his face when he comes to a stop against the island. His outfit of choice is an eyebrow raiser; jogging pants enormous and incredibly baggy, a hoodie at least four sizes too big, a black knit beanie on his head.

“It’s my New York City look. For the mean streets. You like it?”

She grins and sips her tea. “The mean streets, huh? There’s nothing quite as dark and dangerous as the vicious and cold, dark alleys of Gramercy Park.”

“It’s bad ass. New York City. Maybe not exactly where we live, but…”

“You’re pretty far removed from the bad assery of The Big Apple, but I admire your spirit. If I ever find myself getting mugged or having to walk down a dark street at two in the morning, I know who to call.”

“I’d protect you, mum. I don’t care how big and bad someone is. I’d kick their ass for you. Or at least try to.”

“And THAT is why you’re my favorite. Although don’t tell your brothers and sisters; that’ll cause too much drama.”

“Your secret is safe with me. OUR secret.” He slings an arm around her shoulder and presses a kiss to her cheek. “What’cha doing?”

“Lists. One of many. Things we need in the house and things we need to do.” She eyes him from head to toe, mug against her lips. "Is that your dad’s hoodie? AND his pants?”

“He let me have them. I asked if he had anything old I could wear; that he wasn’t going to use anymore. This is what he gave me.”

“You do realize he’s more than a foot taller than you and about...I don’t know...a hundred pounds heavier.”

“I weigh a hundred pounds now. Dad’s like one eighty.”

“He was one eighty five when he got out of the hospital. Five years ago. He’s two ten now. Soaking wet. And you’re five feet? Since when?”

“Since yesterday. I had Tanner measure me.”

“You have a lot of damn nerve, kid. Being only half an inch shorter than me. At TEN.”

“I share DNA with a giant. Dad’s six three. I’ve got more of his genes than yours.”

“Yes, I know. I see more and more of those genes every day. You’re looking more like him all the time. And don’t get me wrong, that’s a good thing. A VERY good thing. But five feet? Already? What the hell?”

“I can’t help it. Blame genetics.”

“You’re going to be massive. You’re probably going to be taller than your dad. And if you keep lifting weights like you do and you start going heavier as you get older, you’ll be huge by sixteen. A good huge. It’s depressing. You’re depressing me.”

“Sorry, mummy.” He kisses her cheek once more, then joking places his forearm on the top of her head. “You’re going to make a good arm rest. Thanks for being absurdly short.”

“Don’t be a smart ass. I brought you into this world, I can take you out.”

“Dad says the tiniest ones are always the most feisty. I think that’s why he fell in love with you; you’re little but you don’t take any shit. Even from him.”

“He likes a challenge, that’s for sure.”

Sipping her tea, she watches him as he heads for the fridge; rummaging through it before coming up with a container of some of the baked goods Tanner had already blessed the family with, and a bottle of Gatorade. He even walks like his father; those gigantic feet and that long, slightly bow legged gait. TJ is more awkward; stuck at the stage between still being a child, yet quickly nearing his teenage years. And he’s become far more mature since hitting double digits; still possessing that extremely active and almost hyper personality, but prone to more serious and thoughtful moments. And at times he looks years older; when his eyes darken and his lips set into a thin, serious line and his brow furrows. So much of his dad exists in him. Both inside AND out. And that smile; the one that crinkles the corners of his eyes and slightly wrinkles the bridge of his nose. It’s on his face now; as he opens the lid on the container of treats and sets it -and his drink- on the counter top before fetching the pot of tea from the stove and warming up the contents of her mug.

“You certainly are my best son,” she chides. It’s only PARTLY a joke. Although at times he can be quite the handful and his ability to regulate his emotions and temper can cause issues both at home and at school, he’s a wonderful kid; loving so deeply and profoundly.

“Tanner wanted me to give you this,” he reaches into the pocket of the hoodie and pulls out a folded sheet of printer paper. “Things he needs. For his baking. He’s really good, huh? At the whole baking and cooking thing? Like, INSANELY good.”

“He’s quite the talent,” Esme agrees. “But so are YOU. You’ve got your own things you’re amazing at.”

“But not like him. He’s crazy smart and he can play the guitar and sing and all this baking and making dinner and stuff. He’s like a dude Martha Stewart! You know what he should do? Start a Youtube channel. People would LOVE him. People are suckers for a cute kid.”

“Well, you know Tanner; how nervous and anxious and shy he gets. You should bring it up to him. If anyone can talk him into something, it’s his big brother. He idolizes you.”

“I don’t know why. I’m not THAT great.”

“I don’t know. You’re pretty damn awesome in my books. And you’re a really good big brother. You should talk to him. He’d be willing to try, I bet. Maybe it’s something you could do together. He’d love that. He loves spending time with you. And I know it’s been hard; him going to a different school.”

“Yeah, it hasn’t been the best thing that’s ever happened,” TJ laments, and helps himself to one of the peanut butter and chocolate squares in the container. “It’s been four years and I STILL miss him. I loved having him in my class. And I loved hanging out with him at lunch and at recess. And sitting with him on the bus.”

“It was a hard decision to make. But it was the best decision. For him.”

“Yeah, my school isn’t exactly an intellectual wonderland. He’s better off where he is. With other brainiacs like him. But still, I do miss him.”

“I’m sure he misses you too. But you get a lot of time together. At home and stuff. And I always love Fridays; the bus dropping him off at your school and you guys coming to see me at the store. Hanging out until I close. Hands down my favorite day of the week.”

TJ smiles. “Mine too.”

“And I thought I was organized,” she comments, as she studies Tanner’s very neat and tidy list.

“He’s kinda anal, huh? About some things? I don’t mean that in a bad way. Just that he’s very…”

“Particular?”

TJ nods. “You know, I wish he’d see himself the way I see him. He’s always worried that he’s weird and that people don’t like him because of it. He always talks about how his brain isn’t like everyone else’s and that he wishes it was. You know what I wish? That more people were like Tanner. Because he’s talented and he’s unique and he sees the world so differently than everyone else. I know he struggles with some stuff, but it’s not a bad thing; him being the way he is. Sometime I think he’s better off than all of us.”

“Unfortunately, self hate seems to be a genetic trait as well. Who does that remind you of? Who else sees themselves in a bad light?”

“Yeah, dad is pretty good at that. Not liking who he is. I don’t why; I think he can be kinda awesome.”

“I think he can too. He’s just had a rough time. For a LONG time. He’s working on it. On a lot of things. But you know what’s really amazing at? Being a dad. I’m pretty lucky. I landed myself a pretty incredible guy. He’s not perfect, but he’s perfect for me. And as for Tanner, maybe you should tell him what you just told me. Because I guarantee you, if he heard that from his big brother? It would mean the world to him. He needs to hear stuff like that. Tell him, okay?” She rubs her palm in slow circles in the middle of his back. “It would make his day. Probably his whole year.”

“I will. I’ll tell him. Do you think he’ll live alone? Away from you and dad?”

“I don’t know,” Esme admits, and cupping her mug in both hands, turns around and leans back against the countertop. “Your dad and I talk about it from time to time. If Tanner will ever get to that stage. If he doesn’t…” she shrugs. “...he doesn’t. I mean, he could live in the pool house. He’d be close enough to home so if he did need help, we’d be right there.”

“What if he lived with me? If we got a place together? When we’re old enough, of course. Say when we’re nineteen. And I’ve got a good job. Like in the military or something.”

“That’s a lot to take on, Teej. A career like that and your brother. Would you want to do that?”

“Why wouldn’t I? He’s Tanner. He’s my baby brother. And not just any baby brother. We were made at the same time. We came out only a few minutes apart. I spent nine months with him; inside of you. Why wouldn’t I want to be with him?”

“A lot will change over the next nine, ten years. You might get tired of him by then.”

“I am NEVER getting tired of him. He’s my brother. I love him. And if it gives you and dad a break after taking care of him for so long, that’s good enough for me.”

“You are something else, Baby-Man. You really are. And I mean that in the best way possible.”

“I know you do. And I like that you still call me that. Even if I AM almost taller than you.”

“You know, you’ve been so cute and helpful these last few days, that I will ignore your cheap shot. You really ARE your dad. Head to toe. Inside and out. Facial expressions and everything. It’s freaky.” She turns and helps herself to one of the treats; a chocolate concoction with marshmallows and coconut inside and a coating made from crushed up Frosted Flakes. “You know, I craved these for my entire pregnancy with you and Tanner. Your dad used to make them for me. Dozens at a time. He’d even get up at three am to do it. Or to go get tacos. That’s probably why you like Mexican food so much.”

TJ’s eyes widen. “Dad used to bake? At three am?”

“At all hours of the day. He’s actually really good at it. These were my favourite. He made them for me; my first birthday after we got married. We had just had Millie and we didn’t have a lot of money to throw around but he still managed to make it special. Australian wildflowers, a picnic on the beach, and these. It was pretty awesome. One of the best birthdays I’ve ever had. Spent with my favorite human.”

“Dad really DOES have his moments.”

“Yeah, he really does.” Esme smiles, and takes a bite of the square. “You know, your grandma used to make these things.”

“Like mean, awful grandma or grandma Adeline?”

“Grandma Adeline. Your dad’s mom. She was quite the baker. Tanner must have inherited that from her. I know Declan got her red hair.”

“That must have been really hard. On dad. Her dying when he was little.”

“It was.” She sips at her tea and picks up the long discarded pen; absentmindedly doodling in the notebook as she speaks. “ It caused a lot of issues for him. It was pretty painful for him.”

“He still doesn’t like to talk about her.”

“It hurts. Even now. But he’s coming around. It’s not as hard for him anymore.”

“Is it true that grandpa used to beat on him? I heard him and Uncle Koen talking about it. A couple years ago. Dad seemed pretty upset. He normally doesn’t cry in front of anyone BUT you. He was kinda emotional.”

“It is true. Unfortunately. Your grandpa was a drunk and he was a narcissist and he hated his wife for having a child. It took the attention from him. Which I know sounds really weird and twisted. But that’s what happened. And when she was alive, he couldn’t stand her loving on your dad and spending time with him. So he took it out on her; beating her and saying mean things to her. Your dad used to have to listen. Sometimes grandpa would make your dad watch. Said it was to teach him how to ‘treat a woman’ and make them ‘learn their place.”

“I’m glad dad didn’t listen. For your sake. And his. I think you’d beat his ass if he ever did stuff like that to you.”

“I definitely would. And he knows it too. But, your dad isn’t like that. He isn’t the type to treat women like that. I know he has his issues, but THAT? He would never, ever, stoop to that level. It’s just not the kind of person he is.”

“Do you think that’s why dad DOES have the issues he does? The brain stuff? Because of how he got treated as a kid?”

“I don’t think it’s the only reason why, but it definitely added to it. You’ve been asking a lot of questions lately. About mental health stuff. What’s going on? You’re ten. You don’t need to worry about this. Your dad is fine. He’s doing great. A lot better than anyone thought he would. So why…?”

“I gave him shit,” TJ says, then gives an apologetic smile. “Sorry. I mean ‘crap’. I gave him crap.”

“You gave your dad crap about something? That’s pretty bold. What did he do that pissed you off?

“ I told him it was wrong. That he went away. To work. That he shouldn’t have gone.”

“TJ, why would you…?”

“You wouldn’t have done it. Given him crap for it. And I know you wanted to. I know you lied. When you told him you were okay with it. You didn’t tell him the truth, mum. You just told him what he wanted to hear.”

“Sometimes we do that,” Esme reluctantly admits. “When we love someone and we don’t want to ruffle feathers. Your dad’s come a long way. He used to be gone all the time. He was off doing jobs more than he was home with us. And I know you probably don’t remember all of that because you were so young; the missed birthdays and anniversaries. The time he couldn’t get home for Christmas. You were only three, but…”

“I was little but I DO remember. And you always acted like you were okay with it. But then he’d leave and you’d be a wreck. Just like you were this time.”

“I wasn’t a wreck. I was nervous and I was worried and…”

“Mum, you don’t have to lie to me. I heard you crying. When you thought all of us were asleep. I KNOW you were having a bad time. With dad being gone.”

“You know what? You’re right. I was. Normally I’m okay with it; I can handle him going away as long as he stays out of harm's way. But knowing he’d walked into it? It DID bother me. That he’d been so willing to help out Anil. Especially after what happened the last time he went and got his hands dirty.”

“Then why didn’t you just tell him that? That you didn’t want him doing it? That you didn’t want him going away?”

“It’s not that easy, TJ. Sometimes it’s not my place. I can’t actually tell him what he can’t and can’t do. In the same way he can’t do that with me. And when Anil called and said he needed the help…”

“He should have said no. Anil knows tons of people. Why did he need dad? He could have called someone else.”

“Your dad is very good at what he does. Or what he DID do. One of the best. And I know it sounds strange; to be proud of a job like that. To be so willing to put your life on the line for people you don’t even know. But when Anil called and needed his help, your dad couldn’t exactly say no.”

“Yes, he could have,” TJ insists. “He promised. That he’d never go away again. That he’d never go back out there after the bad guys. He promised ALL of us. And totally broke that.”

“Sometimes it happens. Sometimes he can’t help it. Sometimes…”

“Stop making excuses for him. When one of us screws up, you don’t let us give you excuses. So why do you let dad give them? There’s no reason he had to go. At all. He should have told Anil to get someone else.”

“You know, we are going to have to agree to disagree on this. I said it was okay. If he went. There’s nothing more to talk about. So let’s just drop this, okay? You don’t know what’s talked about; between your dad and I. We keep you guys out of it. For reasons exactly like this.”

“You lied to dad. When you told him you were okay with it. You weren’t. You were far from okay. And I told him that. That you had a really hard time. That you didn’t deserve to go through that. It’s not fair, mummy. That he goes and does stuff like that. I don’t care that Anil needed. WE need him. Us kids. He’s our dad. What happens if he gets killed? Then we have no dad.”

“That’s not going to happen. He’s not going to get killed.”

“He will if he keeps doing stupid shit like this. You should just be honest with him. Tell him how you really feel about him going away. ‘Cause if he thinks it’s okay, he’s going to keep doing it more and more. And then something really bad is going to happen. Worse than last time. And I don’t want that. I don’t want him going away and…” TJ’s voice cracks with emotion. “...I don’t want him going away and never coming home.”

“Tyler...hey…” she lays a hand on the side of his face “...it’s okay...just take a breath and…”

“It’s not okay. It’s never been okay. It’s never going to be okay. And if he goes away and something happens to him, I’ll hate him forever. If something bad happens to him and he never comes back, I’ll never forgive him. For doing that to us. For doing that to you.”

“Okay, I know you’re upset. And I love you so much for wanting to protect me. But right now, you just need to calm down and take it easy, alright? I know you’re going through a lot. I know puberty is starting to come and kick your ass and it’s making everything seem so much worse and…”

“Just tell him,” TJ implores, and noisily sniffles before wiping his eyes on the sleeve of his hoodie. “Just tell him you don’t want him to go. Tell him, mummy. So he doesn’t think it’s okay to leave again. Because he’ll go and something horrible will happen. And then we don’t have a dad. And we’ll barely have a mum. ‘Cause it’ll kill you. If something goes wrong and he doesn’t come back.”

“You need to to just breathe, Baby-Man,” she steps in front of him and takes his face in her hands. “ Just breathe. Everything is alright. Daddy’s home and he’s safe and he’s not going anywhere. It was just this one time. He won’t have to do that again.”

“You need to tell him. That you don’t want him going. Please, mummy. Please tell him.”

“Okay,” she promises, and draws him into a hug. Heart aching at the realization that her arms can no longer completely wrap around him; shoulders and back both broad and strong. “Everything’s alright, TJ.” She lays a hand on the back of his head and draws it down to her shoulder, the other rubbing his back comfortingly. “I’ll talk to him. I’ll tell him how I feel; about him going away. About how ALL of us feel. Alright?”

He nods.

“Why don’t you go and get some fresh air,” she suggests. “It will make you feel better.”

“You promise you’ll talk to him?”

“I promise.” She presses a kiss to his cheek, then holds him out at arms length. “Maybe afterwards we can take the littles for a walk? You know how much Takota loves when you pull him in the sled. It’ll be good; to go and get a bit of exercise. Sound like a plan?”

“Sounds like a plan.”

“You are getting so big. How do you grow up so fast? I remember finding out about you and your brother. I remember when you were born. All seven pounds of you. Now look. In a month's time, you WILL be taller than me. You’re already wearing mens size nine shoes. You’re TEN.”

“That’s what happens when your dad’s a giant, I guess.”

“You used to always call him that when you were little. You’d tell everyone that your dad was a giant. He probably seemed that way, huh? Probably seemed ten feet tall and bulletproof.”

“He still does. Well, maybe not the bullet proof part. We know THAT’S not true.”

“I know it bothers you. What happened back then. I know it’s not an easy thing to get over. That you came so close to losing him. And I’m sorry. That you had to go through all of that. I really am. If there was any way to go back and time and change it, I would. In a heartbeat. You know that, right?”

“I do, mummy.”

“Your dad loves you so much, TJ. You have no idea HOW much. When you were born and the doctor gave you to him? I’ve never seen him THAT emotional. Not even with Millie and she was his very first. After Austin. And he cried like a baby when he got to hold her. But you? I can’t even begin to describe what that was like for him. A son. After losing his first one. He was so happy and so in love with you. And that’s never changed. It never will.”

“I just don’t want to lose him. I don't know why he even takes the chance. Why does he go knowing that he might not come back? Doesn’t he love us enough to stay home?”

“Of course he does. And I WILL talk to him. Just cut him some slack, okay? The last five years haven’t been easy on him either. And he’s done so well. Better than anyone thought he would. But it’s a process; dealing with everything in his past and letting it go. So just give him a chance, alright? Can you do that? For me?”

“For you, yeah.”

“You’re such a good boy. I love you so much. More than I could ever tell you. And you ARE so much like your dad. And that’s a good thing.” She places one last kiss on his cheek and draws him into another hug. “A very good thing.”

******

The front door clicking open and a familiar Louisiana drawl calling out a greeting sets off a flurry of commotion; a mixture of both heavy and light footsteps pounding down the stairs, dogs scampering and barking, excited giggles and happy shrieks and rambling sentences in tiny voices. The kids have all become quite fond of Desmond (Desi, or Des, as Esme lovingly refers to him as) in their three years of spending time in New York City. A former University of Alabama football star, he’d found himself relocating when he’d met a very wealthy -and very much older- sports agent a decade ago; abandoning his dreams of playing profession in favour of a new existence in a new city. His husband -and admittedly the love of his life- had passed away just over a year ago. Leaving him with the elegantly and fabulously decorated brownstone in Gramercy, a small fleet of high end cars, closets full of designer apparel, and a bank account that will never run dry. He’s an enormous man; six foot seven and weighing close to three hundred pounds, most of solid muscle. Intimidating at first blush, but a complete teddy bear; compassionate and empathetic and possessing a heart even bigger than his body. And he’s hilarious and flamboyant; zero filter, exceptional taste in clothes, a love for expensive cosmetics and considerable talent in applying them, and a penchant for anything sparkly.

“You realize your front door was unlocked, don’t you?” Desi inquires as he journeys into the kitchen; monstrous hands curled around a giggling Takota’s ankles as he dangles him upside down. “Any wackadoodle could just walk in here. I know this is Gramercy Park, but it’s STILL The Big Apple. This isn’t the safe and quiet little sparrow fart town in Australia you call home. Where all you have to worry about is kangaroos and koalas and spiders the size of dinner plates.”

“I’ll have you know that koalas can be very sketchy; we have one in the tree in the front yard that hisses and spits and throws shit at you.”

“Jack!” Takota reminds her in between hiccups. “His name is Jack!”

“Well Jack is an asshole and he needs to relocate,” she says, and pats him on the bum and squeezes the cheeks; fingers moving to his sides and tickling him until both the giggles and the hiccups increase. “And it’s the dingos you have to worry about. They’re mean.”

“Dingos eat bad girls and boys,” Takota says, smoothing down his hair and his shirt when he’s put on his feet. “That’s what daddy said.”

“If that was true, we’d only have two or three kids instead of seven. Go and play. So I can talk to Desi.”

“Talk to him about what?”

“Top secret adult only stuff. Here," She snags one of the sugary goodies from the container on the island and hands it to him. “We’re going to go out soon. For a little walk. Get some fresh air. Make sure you pee BEFORE we leave. I don’t want to get you all bundled up and then have you tell me you gotta go. Hear me?”

“I can’t make any promises mumma,” Takota says, and then pops the treats into his mouth and rushes off.

“That kid is way too cute for his own good,” Desi declares. “Gonna be a heartbreaker, you know. Like his mom.”

“For the record, I’ve never broken any hearts. Well, except for the time in grade two when I didn’t want to be Freddie George’s Valentine. He just wasn’t my type; he smelled like tapioca and desperation.”

“You had a first husband, did you not? Must have broken his heart. Or you wouldn’t be on your second husband.”

“My first husband broke my jaw, my nose, more than one rib, and put me in the ICU. He’s lucky it’s only his heart that got ripped out. And what’s up with that hat?” She gestures towards the fedora atop her friend’s head. “You look like a pimp.”

“If I was a pimp, you, my little ho…” he plucks the hat from his head and places it upon hers. “...would be better dressed.”

“What is wrong with how I’m dressed? I dress like this all the time.”

“And you’re still married? Is he blind or did he hit his head too hard one too many times or…?”

“I’ll have you know, my husband doesn’t care about the packaging. Just what’s underneath. Case in point, I once bought this really nice and quite expensive baby doll nightie; totally vintage and gorgeous and this shimmering black and pink. I don’t think he even noticed. It took him like five seconds to get it off me. IF that. He does not give a shit about the wrapping paper. Just the gift that’s underneath.”

“And you, my cute, teeny little munchkin, are the gift that keeps on giving. And you must give VERY well. Seven kids and all. But baggy sweat pants and a huge tee and a way too big Quicksilver hoodie? Oh honey, no. Just no. No, no, nooo.”

“If it makes you feel any better, these sweats are Fendi.”

“That does NOT change the fact they are joggers and you should NOT be wearing joggers on the streets of New York City. You lived here before; has your little, beautiful brain forgotten what it’s like to dress here? We need to get you some retail therapy with old Desi. He’ll hook you up. A little refinement, a little sophistication, a little bling. I got you, girl.”

“Your idea of a little bling is a ten thousand dollar belt you tried to talk me into buying last year. Where would I wear a ten thousand dollar belt?”

“I don’t care if you use it in the bedroom. If your husband resorts to employing it to trap you to the headboard or if he uses it to tie your hands behind your back. That belt was spectacular and you deserve spectacular. We WILL do this; a shopping trip. Chanel, Gucci, maybe some Ralph Lauren if we feel like slumming.”

“Where am I going to wear that type of stuff? I can’t wear Gucci while I’m cleaning out the goat pen or Chanel when I’m gutting a chicken coup. And I certainly can’t wear it out shopping.”

“Not to your favourite haunt no. Definitely out of place in Target.”

“There is nothing wrong with shopping at Target.”

“There is so much wrong with it. I’ll be here all day if we start.”

“Besides, we don’t have high falutin places like Gucci where I live, remember? You’ve been there.”

“Charming little place. Reminds me of some of the towns down south I used to hit up. But girl, you fill that closet of yours with the finest of apparel. Stick with me, I’ll treat you right. And speaking of being treated right, I got the appointment for you; Christmas Eve Eve, two o’clock Sally Hershberger.”

“You are a knight in shiny, blingy armor. You really DO have strings to pull.”

“I may have had to promise some good times...sexy good times...to the receptionist. But, that’s a small price to pay for you. I’m willing to take one for the team. Or should I say, give one for the team.”

“And as much as it's a dream of mine to go to Sally, and seeing how my hair really DOES need some TLC…”

“Oh no. No. Hell no. There’s a but coming. And Desmond Brownell does not like buts. Unless it’s Idris Elba’s. And your husband’s.”

“I don’t know if I can go through with it. Not the appointment; I can go through with THAT. But cutting my hair? As short as the picture I showed you?”

“Girl, are you crazy. You’d be a knockout with a cute little side swept bob. What drugs are you on? Not that you’re ugly or anything the way you are now. I wouldn’t kick you out of bed for eating crackers or anything like that. But your hair...your whole mom thing with the constant ponytails or messy buns...it needs help. It’s screaming for help. Let me help it. Let me help YOU.”

“Just cutting it? THAT short. That’s not going to go over well.”

“What do you mean?”

“Tyler is kind of old fashioned.”

“Old fashioned? You two spent five days banging right after you met. You got knocked up out of wedlock. He proposed in the bathroom. Nothing old fashioned about any of that.”

“When it comes to certain things, he’s very...particular. Especially when it comes to my hair. He likes it long. LOVES it long. I cut it up to my shoulders once and he bitched about it for TWO years. And let’s not get into when I got bangs or when I dyed it blonde.”

“I can’t say I blame him for the bangs thing. You’re way too cute and those big brown eyes do not deserve the attention taken away by fringe. But the bob...girl...that’s fierce. You’d rock it.”

“Maybe just some highlights. Some red ones. He did really like when I colored my hair red. I can get those, a trim, a blow out.”

“You can go to Cheapy Haircuts for Us for that nonsense. This is Sally Hershberger. You are not going to her and getting just a blowout or a trim or highlights. You are going big, or going home. The husband will deal. He’d love you with no hair. It’s no secret he thinks the sun shines out of your ass. Which, I have to admit, looks fabulous in Fendi sweats.”

“Why do you think he bought them? He knows what he’s doing. He bought them for the same reason he buys me yoga pants. And I don’t even do yoga.”

“He’s an ass man. I can appreciate that. And speaking of appreciate. Desmond Brownell would like to do some appreciating right about now. Is he home? The better half? Is he in there working out?” He casts a glance towards the home gym that sits off the kitchen. “More importantly, is he in there working out shirtless? ‘Cause if he is, I’ll gladly take him a glass of water so that fine ass specimen doesn’t get parched or dehydrated. I’ll even rub down those sore, beautiful muscles. I’ve got some very top shelf massage oil at home. Smells like pecan and coconut. Unless he’s more a citrusy type. If so, I can run to the store right quick.”

“First off, you’d traumatize him. He’s as straight as they come. I know that breaks your heart to hear it, but…”

“How does he know he’s straight if he’s never ventured out of straight-hood? Unless he has and didn’t like it….”

“He hasn’t tried it. He likes women. LOVES them actually. Maybe a little too much when he was younger. He is NOT bi. Sorry.”

“But I am. So are you. And you’re damn cute and he’d probably give it a try if you talked him into a threesome.”

“Yeah, right,” Esme laughs. “That would never happen.”

“Do right by your best friend. Or are you worried he’d leave you for me? What’s the old saying? Once you go black you never…”

“My husband is straight. Very straight. And no. He’s not working out. He’s not even home. He’s out with Tanner.”

“The breakfast date, that’s right. Little T couldn’t stop talking about that. Loves his daddy, that’s for sure. You know, that kid is damn talented. Those goodies brought over and that soup? Damnnn. Move over Emeril. Little T gonna set the world on fire.”

“He’s something else that kid. He’s...incredible. There aren’t even words that can properly describe him. But, he IS having issues.”

“Uh oh. I don’t like the sounds of that.”

“He’s bored. At school. And we specifically sent him there to challenge him. It’s been great. He’s been thriving and his grades are amazing and the teachers and the kids love him. But he’s so advanced and so smart that they’re going to run out of ways to teach him. Which means we’re going to run out of options for him. Which also means, I’m going to become a heavy drinker and eat my weight in these!” She nods down at the container of sweets in front of her and pops one into her mouth. “What are we going to do? There’s only so many options where we are.”

“Homeschool? You’ve got a degree. You’re smart. You can do it.”

“No, I can’t. I’ve got a business. Two businesses, actually. And six other kids. Besides, he is way smarter than I was at that age. He’s probably smarter than I am. What am I going to do? For him?”

“You know where there ARE a lot of options…”

“We are NOT moving here. Tyler would never survive. This place? New York City? It’s not him. And I have to think about that too. What’s also best for him. We’re happy where we are. Insanely happy. Moving here is not an option. No matter how much I miss you.”

“Guess you’ve got a lot of thinking and research to do. It’ll work out. Always does.”

“Have I mentioned how much I love your optimism? And how much I’ve missed you? Or how much I love you?"

“You can mention it as many times as you like. My ego likes that shit.” He takes her face in his hands and drops a kiss on the top of her head. “We still on for dinner tonight? I’m still bringing Italian? And the wine?”

“We’re still on. Tanner is going to make the salad and the garlic bread.”

“We gon’ be eating like damn kings.”

“Are we still on for the other thing? You know; the thing we talked about? When Tyler and I take the kids to pick out a tree?”

“I got you, don’t you worry. I will let myself in and grab the stuff from the attic and sneak out. I also got the email; that ‘thing’ for Addie arrived. You know what I’m talking about?”

“The doll? I didn’t think it would arrive in time. How does it look?”

“Exactly like her. Now, you want to get a head start on the wrapping? You know I love me some gift wrapping.”

“You can do whatever your little heart desires.”

A slow grin spreads across his face. “That is what I like to hear. Now, I’m going to the gym. There’s a Latino hottie there I’ve been trying to talk up for weeks. You behave. Stay out of the wine. At least until later.”

“You gonna wear your ‘Bama t-shirt? The one that’s two sizes too small and shows off your muscles?”

“Sweetie pie, you don’ read my mind. But have you been checking out my muscles?”

“I have a ‘thing’ for muscles. And yours are very nice. Besides, I’m married. Not dead. Tyler’s going to be upset. That he’s not the only one you’re crushing on.”

“You just put his little mind at ease. Tell him he gives me the biggest woodie out of them all.”

“That’ll stroke his ego for sure. See you later? Six o’clock?”

“I’ll be here. With bells and bling on.” He presses a kiss to each of her cheeks and pulls her into a hug; tightly squeezing. “You’re just so wee and cute. I could just scoop you up and put you in my pocket. See you later, gator.” He removes the hat from her head, affectionately tousles her hair before heading out of the kitchen. “And do me a favour? Put proper clothes on for dinner. I can’t be dining with someone in sweats. Desmond Brownell has standards to uphold.”

“Desmond Brownwell needs to remember the cherry cheesecake for dessert.”

“Oh bless your heart. Thinking I need to be reminded. See ya, pip squeak.”

“You and you tall people. So cruel to us little folk.”

“Little folk?” He smirks. “You’re like one of those things in Lord of the Rings. A damn hobbit. Matter of fact, I’mma call you Frodo from now on.”

“You do that, I’ll sneak into your house and kill you in your sleep.”

Desmond laughs. “I’d like to see you try, short stuff. Later.”

“Later,” she calls, shaking her head and laughing when he hollers “Spawns of Satan; I be leaving now!” before stepping out the front door.

#Tyler Rake #Tyler Rake fan fiction #Extraction fan fiction

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thecanadianowl · 4 years

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Justice league Snydercut review

Wow talk about a long movie. Remember Mass Effect's 3 shit endings that were later improved (sorta) with DLCs. Well that is kinda how this movie is.

Before we start this, I just wanna say that I was very impartial throughout the whole snydercut movement. I wasn't part of it but I do see the good that they did in regards to some of their charities and with how the fandom itself has been painted in a negative light. So its good that they got what they have been demanding for quite some time. Snyder as director for me, I really am not the biggest fan of. His movies have some great cinematic moments that look amazing but the context around it is what muddles it for me.

Is it better than Whedon's JL? YES. To start I'll look at some of the things that I do like.

I do like how it was split into parts. Gives it that miniseries/Comic book feel

Thank god they removed that stupid cringy flash landing on top of Diana's chest scene.

Darkseid looks good. I know some people have issues with it but I liked it. I mean looking at it first glance has me convinced its Darkseid. His voice isn't too bad either. Reminds me a bit of Injustice 2.

As much as I have issues with Darkseid being introduced so early I do like that he had a brief confrontation/glaredown with the League, foreshadowing a possible in person encounter and that the League needs to expand if they are going to fight against Darkseid.

Steppenwolf's design has greatly improved and looks better than before.

Loved the scenes between Alfred and Diana. Wish there was more of that.

I loved how the movie added Cyborg, Aquaman and Flash attempting to stop Superman from getting to Batman. I also liked how in this version, Batman pleading to Clark's humanity telling him that world needs him and he needs to snap out of it. Also bonus for taking out that scene of Batman on the ground groaning about how old he is getting.

Okay seeing Clark get the black suit and having the voiceovers of both his father's merge together works in terms of Clark's arc into becoming the person he was meant to be. Also like the use of Zimmerman's Ideal of Hope score wished they let it play out a little longer. Probably my favourite moment in the film is where Superman just takes Steppenwolf's Axe like its nothing and freezes it.

Now to go into some of the more critical stuff that bugged me when watching.

For a movie that is 4 hours long, pacing issues were bound to happen. I think the first example of this can be found in the opening with the Superman scream wave (which started to get a bit hilarious when his screams could be heard every now and then) hitting all three mother boxes. they are shown individually reacting to it and it takes time, where it could have just showed them together or an compilation of each of the motherboxes waking up. I know it Snyder's thing but tone down on the slow mo. Like some instances its fine (like with bullet time or Flash's scenes) but other instances I'm just like alright I get it.

The scene involving Cyborg transferring money into that single mother's bank account. Is he gonna do this for all the people suffering just like her? or just for that one person? I mean if you can hack into the world monetary system, you can solve a lot of financial issues affecting the majoirty and not just one person. Did I miss the scene but why did Cyborg go from helping one poor person, suggesting the potential good he can do to change the world for the better to "Fuck the world". Seems a bit inconsistent in character. Especially since he knows who Diana is (from what he says) and that Parademons are after the motherbox. Maybe her offering help, you should take it? idk Vic. Also the whole Auto defense system malfunction, would it not be better if this was established beforehand where we see Vic struggling to maintain his body's autonomy leading up to the Superman confrontation? Prior to that it seemed he had it under control and his biggest conflict throughout the movie seemed more to be with him coming to terms with his new body. With that being said, Cyborg's character here is much more interesting and better than it was originally. I can see why Ray Fisher is so pissed (well that and the abuse he faced). I am glad this was improved and gave the character a lot more to do.

The movie still has the same issue as before in regards to the whole motherbox plot and how convenient it was that all three are located on earth. You would think that with the involvement of Darkseid/Steppenwolf that separating them to distinct locations across space would make it more difficult to collect them. I mean we know that the Green Lanterns exist (we saw one get chomped), you'd think that they or the guardians would take one and secure it on Oa. The pushback to this would be "well there was only one green lantern and he died, so how could they retrieve the box?" which begs my question, why send only one? I mean it has been established that Darkseid is a known conqueror of worlds, you'd think the Guardians would be smart enough to send more than one Lantern to aid Earth in their fight. Did they not think it would be a good idea to have the corps be more involved/keep an eye on earth since it is the only planet that was able to repel Darkseid's forces?

Why is it that the best idea of security when it comes to humans is to bury it? Would it not be better in optics to look over it and know its location instead of dropping it somewhere on the off chance that someone might find it due to being curious or the land changing/altering making the box more easy to attain? A situation as dire/serious as this, you would think that the Amazons/Atlanteans would have been better prepped with armor/weapons for such an event. I mean you have the arrow of Artemis that shoots quite a distance to give Diana a message but not some kind of weapon that hurts/cripples Steppenwolf? Or better yet, how about the moment that the boxes started acting up after Superman's death, that Atlantis/Themiscarya would put aside any differences they had with one another and to the outside world to come together to secure the boxes? How could Darkseid forget the name of the only planet that was able to force him to retreat? nor does he know that it harbors the anti life?

Did this movie break Aquaman's continuity? because from the dialogue between Mera and Arthur, its implied that Atlanna abandoned/left Arthur at Tom's doorsteps whereas in the movie, we see Atlanna spend a couple of years with Tom and raising baby Arthur before she was forced to come back. You'd think Zack being a producer for the Aquaman movie would have edited that line or made it more clear. Well that or James Wan F'ed up when making the movie.

"I've never seen a being as strong as Steppenwolf" Did Diana just forget Ares aka the god of war who killed the Greek Pantheon/Old gods and orchestrated the first World War? Hell from the looks of the flashback it seemed Ares (I'm assuming its Ares, if its Hades, my bad) was getting some good hits in on Darkseid, who is superior to Steppenwolf. While we are on the topic of Diana, it's a bit odd that Snyder who was a producer on WW84 where one of the biggest focuses on the movie that Patty Jenkins talked about was how Diana doesn't solve her problems with violence (even though her primary weapons in this movie are a sword and shield but okay. Then again New 52 hasn't done a good job in disproving that), yet in this movie we see her using her gauntlet smash to fucking kill the one remaining terorrist. Like sure you can argue that they were terrorists and deserve to die, but given how easy and quick it was for her to take out the previous guys, why do something that runs the risks of destroying the very building that you are in (with hostages). I mean from the look of the blast and how much debris fell from the building outside, and it was a miracle no one (but the terrorist) got hurt/killed.

Why did Steppenwolf kidnap them in the first place? Just use that mind extracting device you used on the Atlantean soldier to see if they know. Seems like a waste of time to collect them in one location only to interrogate them later.

Okay, I'm sorry but even in this cut I still don't like Miller's Barry Allen. He isn't as bad as he was in the theatrical cut but man does it stick out. When he is helping to escort the kidnapped civilians out, why doesn't he just grab them and transfer them to a safe distance? He even makes a comment about how slow they are going. Can I also just say how weird it is for Barry to take time saving Iris to caress her hair and look at her more creepily in slow mo? Like yeah its in slow mo but still I think your priority should be to get everyone to safety as quick as possible and check if anyone else could get hurt. I will admit that Barry's speech as he is running so fast to reverse time at the end was really good. Tho the more I think about all the slow mo Flash scenes are good.

They still kept the "Let's use the mother box to bring back Superman plot". Why? This is a piece of tech that you don't fully understand how it works and you are going on the whims of someone you just met. Especially if they come back as a different person/mindset all together. If Superman 's death was the reason that allowed for the Mother box to call to Steppenwolf/Darkseid, what the hell were they doing prior to Superman's arrival on earth? I mean we've seen how easy it was for Steppenwolf to attain the two boxes even if they were guarded, so why the wait ?. I get that Batman is going through an arc and trying to change from the person he was but how does go from "1% chance of absolute certainty" to "let's go on a whim and have faith" when it comes to resurrecting Superman?

Its gonna be awkward as to how Clark will explain his sudden return from the grave around the same time Superman came back.

I was wondering when the Knightmare scene will play out. Jared leto's Joker isn't over with me, it seems way too try-hard to be edgy. Other than that yeah, not much I can say about it. Tho do we seriously need another iteration where Superman (or someone with Superman like powers) is evil?

I also love how nonchalant Bruce is about J'onn appearing in front him. However the revelation that J'onn was that army general all the time breaks so much of continuity (and just why now did you decide to show up and help and not idk the time Zod invaded and nearly terraformed earth, HELL WHY TF DIDN'T SHOW UP TO HELP THE LEAGUE IF YOU KNEW ABOUT DARKSEID, I'M SORRY TO RAG ON BUT REALLY THIS CAMEO JUST OPENS UP SO MANY QUESTIONS, IT JUST SEEMS LIKE AN "PALPATINE WAS BEHIND THIS ALL ALONG" KIND OF THING ).

In terms of getting a sequel, I am not sure if WB is going to go through with it given that their current vision seems to be a different route than the one Snyder intended so who knows. Despite my criticisms I do believe this is Snyder's best DCEU film to date and probably one of his better films. You could tell that he put in a lot to make this. The movie itself does have issues mostly due to the plot surrounding the motherbox as well as pacing. I would say it's worth the watch at least once, though I think its best to watch it in doses rather than one sitting. Ultimately this is the version that we should have gotten and I can see why so many people who were supportive of Zack wanted or vouched for him to finish it. Regardless, I think the very least I am happy for Snyder. If you like Snyder's previous stuff, you will like this one, if you don't, your perception of the film won't change significantly other than some cool bits here and there.

#dceu #justice league #snydercut #snydercut spoilers #dc comics

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allegra-writes · 5 years

Text

(Not so good at) Sneaking around

Peter Parker x Stark!Reader

Teen & up

Warnings: None

The Request:

Hey! So we always see the Reader and Peter sneaking around Tony and he suddenly finds out when he catches them making out or doing it and freaks out and it's like "Run Peter, run!" But c'mon!! There's no way his daughter could hide something like that from him I mean he's Tony freaking Stark! So just once I would like to see a fic where the Reader and Peter think they are being so smart and sneaky but Tony knows all along and just let's them go on because it's so much fun for him to see them running around and freaking out and just nearly giving them heart attacks every time he 'almost catches them'. Also let's be honest, he would totally ship it!

“It’s happening! This time it’s definitely happening!” Tony got in the bed whispering excitedly.

“What is, Tony?”

“SpiderStark! Y/n and Peter!”

Pepper turned around to face her husband, exasperated and refusing to have to be awake at such an ungodly hour.

“You say that at least once a week…”

“Yes, I know, but this time it really is happening!” He insisted, excitedly, “I was walking down the hallway outside y/n's bedroom and I hear them yelling at each other and…”

“How is yelling at each other conducive to them getting together?”

“Because of what they were yelling! Hear me out…”

Tony was having a pretty shitty night, the coding for his newest AI refused to cooperate but he couldn’t figure out what was wrong with it. He was missing something. He needed another pair of eyes.

Peter was out with MJ, great kid, really, he would totally be on board with that relationship if it weren’t with the fact that it was getting in the way of his OTP.

Because that’s what they were, ever since princess Shuri had explained the terminology to him, he couldn’t help to think about his own princess and his protégée like that. Because, let’s be honest, no boy was ever going to be enough for his precious girl, but the one he loved like his own? The one whose genius rivaled his own, the one who was braver than Cap himself, the one with a heart more pure than Thor's? That one came pretty fucking close.

And he wasn’t blind, he had seen the little glances they stole when they thought no one was looking, the way that “personal space” lost any meaning when it came to them, those kids were crazy about each other.

Now if only those two morons would get along with the program …

Anyway, Peter was out with MJ and Harley had gone home for the weekend. His own precocious teenager was geeking out somewhere on the tower with Loki of all people (and don’t even ask him how the bastard was still alive, Thor himself had just shrugged and welcomed him back), but he was going to have to interrupt them -such a pity - to ask her for help.

“If you’re looking for your firstborn, she just left for her bedchambers” Loki said without even raising his eyes from the book he was reading, sprawled on the sofa of the main living room.

“So early on a weekend night? You managed to bore her that much?”

Loki rose an eyebrow in obvious contempt.

“If you must know, she was visibly distressed after the spider-brat showed up. So much that so that she was of no use to any of our respective investigations so she decided to call it a night.”

“Distressed? Peter Distressed her?”

Loki scoffed,

“That little insect is not as harmless as you seem to believe…”

Tony rolled his eyes.

“Whatever, Snivellus. I’m gonna find her, she’s probably still awake.”

You were awake alright. Yours and Peter’s voices could be heard from the hallway. Frowning, Tony got closer to the room.

“… and where do you get off of telling me what to do or who to talk to?!” distressed, his ass, you sounded furious. “You are not my father, you are not my brother, you are no one!” Jeez, kid, harsh much? “You are just my friend and-!”

“That’s bullshit, y/n! That’s so much bullshit and you know it!” Tony didn’t think he had even heard Peter swear before, but he would have been the first to admit the tension between you two was bound to explode sooner or later. “The way we touch? The way you look at me? The whole way we just… are with each other, that’s not how friends are supposed to be! You wear my freaking t-shirts to bed, for God’s sake! Just admit it, baby, we haven’t been just friends in a long time.” He finished, voice full of venom.

Your dad froze outside your door. He felt the need to intervene, to put a stop to the argument before it could escalate even more and both his kids said things they would regret. But on the other hand, he had no idea what to do or how to break up that fight. Teenagers were a scary breed, especially female ones…

Especially Stark ones.

There was a loud crash against the door.

“What the Hell, y/n? You can’t just throw a vase at me! You could have hurt me!!”

His daughter’s response must have been in a lower voice because he couldn’t hear it. Tony got closer to the door trying to listen but the voices sounded muffled now, softer.

There was another dull thud on the door, as if something heavier had hit it, and then a stifled moan, and Tony left hurriedly, before hearing something he really, truly didn’t want to hear…

“… Wow”

“I know, right?” Tony sounded still amazed. Pepper, good pragmatic Pepper, wasn’t as enthusiastic.

“ And you are not bothered at all by the fact that your oldest daughter is currently making out, maybe even more, with a boy in her bedroom?” She inquired, skeptical.

“Honey they are eighteen, and they are smart. They can be a lot of things, but irresponsible is not one of them. Besides,” Tony left out a yawn “Peter is a complete gentleman.”

“It’s not him I’m worried about” Pepper muttered, but Tony’s eyes were already closed.

…

Tony Stark started to suspect Peter Parker wasn’t as much of a gentleman as previously thought a couple days later, when he caught you trying to sneak out of the med bay.

“I can’t believe you licked the alien thing” Bruce was so done as he and your father turned the corner.

“It worked! It was DNA activated!” Tony countered.

“But you didn’t know that at the time! Oh, hi y/n…”

You stood there like a deer in the headlights, cursing silently: it was just your luck to crash into them when you were almost on the clear. You had been so close, but the tell tale glow of the Starkderm -Your father’s high tech take on the transparent medical dressing, designed to aid in healing and completely camouflage wounds, making them indistinguishable from the patients skin once activated- on your neck, let you know your little mission had failed.

“Sweetie, are you ok? Did you get hurt?” Bruce’s tone was anxious and the guilt Tugged at your heart for making him worry. After all they had been through, they didn’t deserve it.

“You should let Bruce take a look at that, neck injuries are a serious matter, kid”

Had you been in a better mental state you would have noticed the amused glint in your father’s eye that belied his concern; but as it was, high on adrenaline and embarrassment, you didn’t see it.

“NO! I mean… n- no, it’s nothing, I mean -just a stiff neck.” You stammered, “That’s it, just a stiff neck. I thought maybe the analgesics in the Starkderms might help. I- I gotta go now. Bye!”

You practically ran out of the room, leaving behind a bewildered Bruce… and a clacking Tony.

“Oh my God!” your father was literally doubled up with laughter, “Did you see her face? She was so red she could’ve given the old mark II a ran for it’s money!”

“I don’t understand, the Starkderms don’t work on soft tissue sprains…”

“Oh Banner, you pure, innocent jolly green giant…” Tony wiped a tear from the corner of his eye and put a hand on his friend's shoulder -well, he tried for the shoulder, but the forearm was as high as he could reach- “It was a hickey. She was trying to cover a hickey”

Banner was even more confused,

“A hickey? But how? who..?”

Tony just raised an eyebrow.

“… No, no way!”

“Yes way.”

“Get out! Finally?”

“Yes, my friend,” Your dad patted Bruce’s (lower) back “Fucking finally!”

…

“I think your father knows”

Tony froze on his tracks right outside the kitchen as soon as he heard Peter and you talking about him.

“What? Why would you say that?” You sounded slightly alarmed, but not enough, in his opinion. Surely he was more intimidating than that, he was Tony fucking Stark after all.

“Well, you know since my aunt and I moved to the tower we have been doing our grocery shopping ourselves…”

“Yeah, I know” Tony could practically hear your eye roll, he knew you shared his opinion on the ridiculous Parker pride that meant that, despite May and Peter finally accepting to move in with the rest of the team into the new Avengers Tower, they still refused any and all financial help from Tony; never mind the fact that your father paid for everything for the other avengers.

“Well, last night after patrol I was tired and I forgot May had asked me to go to the store,” Peter sounded like he was blushing. Tony hadn't even know that was possible. “so I asked Friday, right? And then, when the groceries arrived…” Peter ended his explanation with an unintelligible mumble.

“What? I’m sorry Pete, I didn’t quite catch that last part” Your mirthful tone let your father know that Peter was blushing even harder. Tony had to stifle a laugh, he knew exactly what had been in those groceries…

“Condoms, ok?” Peter finally blurted out, “There was a box of condoms in one of the bags that I definitely didn’t asked for!”

“And you think that, what? That my father did it?” You said incredulously “They probably just mixed your order with someone else’s. Peter do you seriously think my father bought us condoms?”

“… Well, when you put it like that, it does sound a little ridiculous…”

You scoffed,

“You think? Besides,” You added, “we would know if my dad knew, he’s not exactly subtle, you know. Do I need to remind you the Carter Baizen incident?”

“The what?”

“You seriously don’t know?” You sounded beyond incredulous and we’ll into stunned territory now. “It was everywhere. My dad saw him trying to put his hand underneath my skirt once, while we were dating, and he blasted his car…”

“That was true? I thought the tabloids had made that up!”

“They didn’t. So, you see there’s no way we wouldn’t know if Tony –“

“Hey, did someone say Carter Baizen?” Your father interrupted, choosing that moment to finally walk into the kitchen and making you and Peter jump three feet apart “Because I swear, if that bastard is lurking around again…”

“Hey dad! No, ew that would be super creepy. He’s like, super old now…”

“Hello my heart.” He came next to you and kissed your head. “You better be telling the truth, because if I ever see him near you again, I will disintegrate him.” He then looked Peter dead in the eyes over your shoulder as he said, “Nobody puts their hands on my baby girl and gets to keep them”

Peter swallowed hard. Tony smirked. Oh yeah, he was still intimidating af.

…

“Friday, where’s my oldest daughter?” Tony asked certain Saturday evening, not having seen you in the whole week, thanks to the mission your team had been on.

“She’s in her bedroom on the penthouse, boss”

“Really? She’s not, you know, on the third floor, west side of the tower?”

“Negative, boss, she’s not at the Parkers’.” Friday sounded amused, “However, Peter is in her room with her.”

“Figures.” Your dad grumbled. But then an impish little smile appeared on his face: It was time to have a little fun messing with his favorite pair of jumpy teenagers.

As he neared your room, he was able to hear music, whooping, laughter and… Rihanna?

… So gonna let the rain pour,

I’ll be all you need and more…

“Sweetheart, can I come in?” Tony knocked on your door, and the laughs immediately stopped.

“Just a second!”

A lot of shuffling, the thud of something heavy hitting the floor and a few muffled curses reached his ears. A minute latter, a very flushed You opened the door.

“Hi, dad!”

“Hi, baby” He stepped past you into the room and took a look around: The bed was made (thank God) but there were a few pillows knocked off it, one of Peter’s sneakers was visible underneath the vanity and a pair of pink my little pony boxer shorts were laying on the carpet. Your dad poked them with his shoe.

“Nice shorts,” He commented casually, “I thought you had gotten over rainbow colored horses when you were six…”

“Stranger Things made them cool again” you hurried to explain, “Well, not cool cool, they’ll obviously never be cool, but like, cool amongst nerds. It’s more like a nostalgia thing… and who wants to be cool anyway, am I right? Cuz-…”

“Sweetheart, you’re rambling” Tony pointed out and you instantly shut up. “I just wanted to ask you and Peter if you wanted Italian for dinner. Where is he, by the way? Friday told me he was with you…”

“That traitor!” You murmured under your breath.

“What was that, my heart?”

“Nothing, dad” You replied, proud of how even your voice was despite of your heart trying to leap out of your body. “You just missed him, he left like two minutes ago to take a call from May. But I’m sure Italian’s great, he loves it.”

Tony wouldn’t admit it, but he was kinda proud too, you were definitely getting better at lying. As a father it was a scary thought but he knew it was a valuable skill in your shared line of work.

The only thing was, I wasn’t nearly as fun to mess with you if you didn’t fumble and stuttered your way out of the situation.

“Right, then, I’ll go tell Pepper to order while Mor and I set the table. You’re on dish washing duty tonight.”

“Sure, no problem dad.” If Tony hadn’t already known you were trying to hide something, that right there would have tip him off: You never, ever in your life had done the dishes without complaining.

Yeah, you were getting better at lying but there was still a long way to go.

As soon as your dad left, Peter got out of the ensuite, stark naked and arms full of clothes.

“Is he gone?”

“Really, Peter? Really?” You deadpanned, “first you come out here naked and then you decide to ask if my father is gone?”

God, he was so lucky he was pretty.

He chose to ignore your sarcasm.

“And he didn’t suspect anything?”

“He didn’t. Apparently My Little Pony is girly enough for these to belong to me” You snickered, holding his underwear up. He took them, blushing and mumbling something about a gag gift from Ned. Once he had them and his jeans on, he flopped down on the bed, rubbing his face with his hands.

“I knew the striptease was a bad idea!”

You laughed harder at that,

“You said you had moves! I had to see them!”

He peered at you through his fingers.

“Was I any good at it, at least?” he asked shyly but you could see the beginnings of a smile on his bitten red lips.

“Babe, you are the best Rihanna ever,” You said truthfully, “ I’m even tempted to put you on a full on French maid costume. Fishnets and everything.”

You leaned down on the bed to kiss him, but he used his super speed to flip you over so you were one your back and he the one above you.

“God, you are so weird!” He declared, but there was nothing but adoration in his eyes.

“Hey! Don’t kink shame me!” You batted half-heartedly at his chest.

The rest of your complaint was swallowed by his lips.

…

“Daddy! Daddy!” As soon as Tony put a foot inside the penthouse he got tackled by a little dark haired meteor.

“Maguna! Hello baby!” he grunted as he picked the littlest of his troublemakers up. He was getting old, and his little squirt was getting big. He started to walk the both of them towards the kitchen. “How was your day out with your big sis? You girls did something fun?”

“We did!”

Tony scowled in mock outrage,

“How dare you? I specifically forbade you two to have fun without me!” he growled to a giggling Morgan “There can be no fun if I’m not there, I told you!”

“We did! We had fun!” She confirmed delighted. She was obviously not intimidated in the slightest, and Tony was starting to resign himself to the fate of not being feared at all by his daughters.

“What did my girls do? If it wasn’t too fun, I shall allow it…”

“She and Peter took me to the Queen’s zoo!” She replied excitedly, “There were Coyotes! And there were mountain lions and sea lions! And we saw the sea lions have lunch! And then we had lunch. Oh and I got to feed a baby goat!”

“Really? You did all that? In just one day?!”

“Yes!” She confirmed, “And then y/n said she whished she could keep one of the sea lions as a pet, a little one, like a sea puppy! And I said yes, but Peter said he couldn’t let us steal a sea lion!” Morgan frowned, indignant. She looked so adorable that Tony was having a hard time trying to hide his smile.

“Did he now? The nerve on him!” He played along.

“I know! And then y/n pouted, and I made the puppy dog eyes…”

“The what now?”

Morgan sighed,

“The puppy dog eyes,” She explained, tiredly, as if she believed her father to be exceedingly slow, “It’s when I make my eyes real big and sad. Y/n taught me”

Tony rolled his eyes, unsurprised and unimpressed by that little piece of information.

“Anyway, she was pouting and I was making the puppy dog eyes, so Peter said he would be our sea lion instead. And he was making like this” Morgan started flapping her hands and barking in a rather hilarious impression of a sea lion. This time Tony couldn’t stop himself from cracking up, but far from offended, Morgan smiled, pleased with herself.

Once they reached the kitchen, he placed her down on the counter and started gathering the ingredients for a couple PB&Js while Morgan continued the retelling of her latest adventures.

“… And then, at the Aviary, I saw y/n and Peter kiss! But they told me not to tell you, cause it’s a secret…”

“They didn’t try and bribe you into keeping it?” Tony asked amused, without stopping to spread peanut butter on a slice of breath.

“Yeah, they did. They bought me ice cream and a sea lion plushie…”

Tony turned to face his daughter.

“Then why are you telling me?”

Morgan gave him a look far sinister than any seven year old should be capable of,

“Because they would only let me have two scoops…”

Tony had created a monster.

“Wow. We are so lucky you don’t know who Spider-Man is!” Tony commented, thinking just how much it might cost them for Morgan to keep a secret like that.

“But I do know Spider-Man! He’s my friend!” Morgan replied, having totally misunderstood her dad, “And whenever you are away on a mission, he’s the one that comes to check for monsters in my closet when I can’t sleep at night…”

“Of course he does” How was Tony ever supposed to hate her daughter’s boyfriend, when he was Peter Parker?

…

“Harley, what happened?” Tony demanded catching up with the boy on the hallway of the Medical Research and Treatment wing of the tower. Otherwise known as the medbay.

“Tony! It was that fucking Goblin again. He had some kind of gas he tried to douse on y/n. Peter took the hit for her.” The blond boy answered, falling into step beside Tony toward the infirmary, were Peter was being tended to by both Banner and Strange.

“I told you a thousand times, kid: That’s Mr. Stark, or boss for you. I’m your superior, show some respect, this is supposed to be a mission report.”

“Sorry, sir” Harley continued, sounding anything but, “We subdued the Red Goblin successfully and now he’s under custody of S.W.O.R.D. I believe they are presently trying to separate the symbiote from it’s host. Stature and Ironheart stayed behind to handle the clean up and I brought Spidey here.”

“Really? Y/n didn’t want to bring him in herself?”

Harley smirked,

“She knows I’m faster.”

“That I can’t argue with” Tony admitted, well aware of Harley’s disregard for safety rules in favor of speed. And the thrill of it, of course. “Do we know something about the substance that lunatic hit Peter with?”

“It was a poison, fast acting and apparently lethal on normal humans. On Pete's unusual metabolism, however, the effects are… pretty interesting.”

Tony narrowed his eyes in suspicion,

“How interesting exactly?”

Harley’s smirk intensified,

“Why don’t you see for yourself, boss?” He motioned at the door with his head and Tony’s weariness grew: if Harley found it amusing, chances were it wasn’t anything good.

“Mister Staaaaaaark!” Peter’s cheery voice slurred loudly when Tony wasn’t even halfway through the door. He turned to Harley.

“He is high?!”

Harley didn’t even tried to hide his laughter.

“As a kite!”

Tony was convinced that one this days, one of his kids was going to make him roll his eyes so hard, that they were going to get permanently stuck facing the back of his head.

“Nooo, don’t go mister Staark”

“Tony, get in here!” admonished Bruce, who was trying to push back into the stretcher, as gently as possible, the loopy teen with the super strength currently trying to make his way to his mentor.

“Woah, careful there, champ!” Tony guided a squirming Peter to lay back down, “What would y/n say if she saw you trying to escape like this?”

Tony never thought a person could make the exact same face of the heart eyes emoji. He was wrong.

“Y/n! She’s soo gorg- so gurgeu- so… she’s so pretty, and strong and braaave…” Peter gushed, “And I’m so so lucky, cuzz she’s my girl- my girlfriend… how did I get so lucky, mister Staark?” He looked at Tony as if he was just realizing who he was talking to- Which was probably exactly what was happening- and seemed suddenly petrified.

“Oh no! No mister Staark, you can’t know she’s my girlfriend or you’ll kill me! Kill meeee!!”

“Relax, kid. I’m not telling mister Stark anything.” Tony tried to calm the easily distracted boy the best way he could think of. And it worked. Kind of.

“Thank you mister Staark. You did sooo much for me! You made my suits and you took us in and- and… and y/n! You made y/n!! Did you make her in your lab too? Because she’s SOOOOOO perfect!

“Actually I did make her in my old lab,” Tony chuckled “Just not in the way you’re thinking”

“Dude! TMI!!” Harley quipped from the doorway.

“Seriously, Stark, don’t give the boy any ideas, I already walked into him and your heiress making out in the Sanctum enough times” Strange chipped in, holding up a syringe with a bright green liquid Tony assumed to be the antidote.

“What were they even doing in the Sanctum?”

“Besides making out? I’ve no idea.” Was Strange's dispassionate reply.

Peter was still spouting praise over y/n,

“She’s so niiice and sooo good and so brill- so smart!”

Strange came closer with the needle but Peter would have none of it.

“No! No needless! No pricking!” He started to struggle against Banner's hold and he truly did not want to hurt the confused kid.

“Tony, distract him!” He demanded.

“Underoos, what was that about my daughter?”

Peter’s face immediately lit up,

“She’s amazing, she smells so nice and her hair is soooo soft, like a princess!! But like, a- a badass princess… like Leia!” Peter turned suddenly solemn, “Miiister Staark, do you think she likes me? Like, like like me?”

Tony smiled,

“Well, considering she is your girlfriend, I would expect so…”

“SHE’S MY WHAT?”

Strange used the moment of distraction to pretty much stab the syringe into Peter’s thigh. He looked so betrayed that Tony had the unreasonable impulse of hitting the wizard right on his smug face, even though he knew the doctor was only doing his job. Or one of them, at least.

“This should help you expel the toxin faster. You might feel drowsy and lethargic so I strongly recommend you to lay here, take a nap, and when you wake up you should be back to normal,” Strange hesitated, “Or at least, whatever is considered normal for a hormonal adolescent boy with spider DNA… Seriously Stark, how do you even find them?”

Tony shrugged,

“You should see the one with the Prym particles irradiated heart”

Stephen Strange seriously hoped the billionaire was kidding.

“Right. If that’s all, I will be going now. Give me a call when the spider kid wakes up” He added to Bruce, “Even if you don’t consider it necessary, I would like to check on his evolution.”

“Will do, doctor” Banner gave him a reassuring smile. Doctor Strange could be cold, even a downright bastard sometimes, but he had a soft spot for the youngest Avengers, and that placed him firmly in the 'friends' category according to the oldest ones. He disappeared through one of his portals, that closed after him in a shower of sparks.

“Wow, that’s so cool!”

Tony sighed and was about to turn to go to Peter again, but to his everyone’s surprise, Harley beat him to it.

“Ok, Pete, that’s enough excitement for one afternoon”

“No, no, I want…” Peter ended his sentence in an unintelligible mumble but it was clear he was trying to sit up. Harley helped him to hold himself upright.

“That ok, Pete?”

“Kid, he’s not listening, he fell asleep” pointed out Tony.

“Ok, then” Harley guided Peter’s back to lay against the stretcher again, while Tony placed his legs in a more comfortable position. Once they were done, he raised a questioning eyebrow at Harley. The blond shrugged,

“What? I might not take a lot of things seriously, but he’s my friend…”

Bruce hummed unconvinced.

“You caught all that on video, didn’t you?” Tony correctly assumed. Harley gave him a dazzling smile in return.

“Every single glorious second of it, I even got some recordings of the flight back here. If you let me have some of the security footage of this room, we could turn it into a short”

Tony winked,

“You got yourself a deal!”

“God I’m so sorry Vine does not longer exists” Harley lamented, “This material is gold! Gold I tell you!”

“Well, I can always buy the company and bring it back…” Tony suggested, following the kid out. Bruce was left alone with the unconscious Peter, wondering what exactly was going to be awaiting the unsuspecting kid on the internet once he woke up.

“Wakey wakey, spider beauty…”

Peter really didn’t want to wake up, he had the feeling he was going to have the hangover of a lifetime once he did, but that little voiced lured him into consciousness like, well, like a spider lures flies into it’s web.

“Come on, Pete, open those pretty eyes for me…”

“Whu? Oh, oh hey babe…” Peter drowsily greeted you, managing to open one eye. You chuckled, relieved, and Peter thought that that right there was the most beautiful sound in the world. Facing the hangover to kill all hangovers was worth it, just to hear that sound again. He opened both eyes and took you in: You looked a little gritty, and exhausted from the last fight, but even so, you were still as breathtaking as the first time he had seen you, all those years ago.

“Hello, princess” He sounded much more alert now, to your infinite relief.

“Hey, there, handsome” you smiled at him and Peter felt his heart skip a beat. He vaguely wondered if it would always feel like this, or if he was going to get used someday to the idea of you being his. He seriously doubted that last one. “Is that my new nickname?” You asked.

“Yeah, yes it is. Because you are a princess. A badass princess, like Leia.” As soon as the words left his mouth, he was hit by the memory of everything that had happened earlier in that very same room. Peter groaned and covered his face with his hands, something he seemed to do every time he felt embarrassed, which lately was a very often.

“Babe, don’t hate me” He grumbled from behind the shelter of his hands, “But I might have told your father about us…”

Your laugh took him by surprise.

“Yeah, I know, he just gave me the “what are your intentions towards my protégée” speech”

Of all the reactions Peter had prepared himself for, that wasn’t one of them.

“Wait, so he isn’t mad?”

You snorted,

“I know! I was surprised too, but according to him, we won him a lot of money!”

“What do you mean?” Peter was sure the drug hadn’t left his system completely, cause you weren’t making any sense.

“Apparently there was a bet going on. He had a lot of money on “Secretly been together all along, just didn’t know it/refused to acknowledge it”” You explained, “and it seems Bucky made a lot with “Angrily confessed their feelings for each other in the middle of a fight” too”

Peter felt his jaw hit the floor,

“I think I need to lay down…”

“Babe, you are laying down” you pointed out.

“Well, then maybe I need to lay down next to you” He replied cheekily. You feigned an annoyed sigh.

“Fine, scoot over” You climbed on the narrow stretcher with him. The both of you barely fitted, laying side by side, but Peter wrapped his arm around your waist to stop you from slipping out. And if he held you a little closer to his body than was strictly necessary, well, you were openly, officially, his girlfriend now. He was allowed to touch you, to kiss you, to stake a little claim on you in front of everyone, here and there.

He laced the fingers of his other hand with yours, and held your joined hands up in the air in front of the both of you, testing the feeling of freedom, of not having to hide anymore, even if it was just of the infirmary security cameras. He couldn’t help the goofy smile he knew he must have been sporting on his face.

You stayed like that, admiring the way your hands looked together, before you had to ask,

“What are you thinking about?”

Peter seemed to gather his thoughts for a moment.

“You held my hand like this” He observed, pensive, “Back on Titan, I mean. After the snap, as we…” He trailed off, but you knew exactly what was left unsaid: As we turned to dust. As we died.

“And I know you must have felt it happening too, cause I remember I felt your fingers starting to crumble underneath my own and-“ His voiced cracked and he had to stop and take a few stabilizing breaths before he could go on. When he did, it was with tears on his eyes as he said, “And I know you were probably terrified, too, but you still held my hand and tried to comfort me. Because I was scared. Because I needed you. And then, when we came back…”

“We were still holding hands” You finished for him.

“Yeah” He murmured, quietly, amazed. He turned on his side, removing his arm from your waist, and placing that elbow on the thin mattress, supporting his head on his hand, to face you.

“I never told you this,” He confessed, “But I remember not wanting to let go” He squeezed your still joined hands, “I still never want to let go”

“Then don’t” You whispered, closing the distance between you, kissing his soft lips gently, trying to convey in that kiss all the adoration, devotion and longing you felt for him. He let go of your hand, only to softly touch your face, with heartbreaking tenderness, as he delicately bit your bottom lip in a silent request for permission. The helpless little moan that escaped your throat was all he needed to deepen the kiss, lips devouring yours, tongue worshipping every corner of the inside of your mouth, hands pulling you closer and closer, making your body come alive beneath his fingertips.

He rolled into his back, pulling you on top of him, one hand tangled in your hair, the other one trailing dangerously lower and lower on your back, seeking the skin under the waist line of your jeans, kiss getting quickly out of control.

When the need for air finally won, and you had to break the kiss, smiling at Peter’s attempt of following your lips with his, you knew. You knew, as certainly as you knew your own name, inexorably and inescapable like gravity. The words left your mouth in a breathless whisper, but as clear as the feeling behind them:

“I love you, Peter Parker.”

Peter could only gaze at you in awe, slack jawed and heart hammering so hard inside his chest you could feel it on your own. You saw the raw emotion in his eyes and knew he was about to say it back.

“That’s all very good but I think it’s about time Pete an I have a certain conversation”

The sound of your father’s voice had you both falling down of the stretcher in your haste to get away from each other.

“Dad! We were just-…”

“Mr. Stark! This isn’t what you think it is!”

Tony looked down on you at your sprawled positions on the med bay floor and scoffed.

“I think I know exactly what this is” He declared, pulling Peter up by back of the collar of his suit, “which is why I think it’s way overdue that Peter here, and I, talk about the birds and the bees…”

“Dad, no!”

“Dad, yes. Tell me, Peter, do you still have the box of condoms I sent you?” Tony left the infirmary dragging a tomato red Peter with him, and you just knew you were never going to get laid again.

Because if there ever was something worse than your father threatening your boyfriend to defend your virtue, it was your father giving your boyfriend sex advice.

The end.

So, this was too long to post in one go, I guess this prompt got outta hand. Or my characters got a little... Handsy.

#peter parker #peter parker x stark!reader #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker x reader #fanfiction #marvel fanfic #spider man fanfiction #peter parker fluff #iron dad #Iron Man #tony stark

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mst3kproject · 4 years

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Sorority Girl

It can be hard to find this specific movie, since several others have been made with the same title, even as recently as the nineties. Us MSTies, however, demand the original – the one with Susan Cabot and June Kenney from The Viking Women and the Sea Serpent and Dick Miller from Gunslinger and It Conquered the World. It was produced and directed by the reliably awful Roger Corman, and Ms. Cabot has apparently said in interviews that they didn’t really have a script, just a list of stuff that was supposed to happen. Sorority Girl is a step up from Curse of Bigfoot, but that’s praise so faint that you’d need the Hubble Space Telescope to pick it out.

College student Sabra is a colossal bitch and nobody likes her. Unsurprisingly, the only person who doesn’t understand the correlation between these two facts is Sabra herself. Determined that others should suffer the way she has, she plays her sorority sisters against each other until her mind games drive one of them to attempt suicide. Then I think she drowns herself. The end.

On a technical level, Sorority Girl looks and sounds very nice – the photography is crisp and the blocking and direction, while nothing spectacular, tell us what we need to know. You can tell who’s who and remember everybody’s names, and the costume designer did a good job of suggesting everybody’s personalities and goals through their clothing. The soundtrack puts both music and silence to pretty good use. The only glaring flaw in the film itself is a scene in which the sound of rolling waves almost drowns out the dialogue, but that might just be my sound system.

It’s sufficiently well put-together that it makes me kind of angry, because all that relative competence is in the service of this nasty, depressing movie that hates everybody and everything. Watching it makes you feel like you need a shower. The movie is here to show us women being horrible and spanking each other (no, really), but it’s not even over-the-top enough to be any fun.

I don’t understand who we’re supposed to root for in this movie. It can’t be Sabra herself, because she’s thoroughly horrible and there’s not even any reason for her to be doing what she does. It’s not like the others have wronged her in any way – if they had, perhaps we could take some nasty joy in her revenge but we can’t. If the rest of the girls had any sort of spine we could root for them, but they’re nonentities. Future student president Rita stands up tall in front of voters but is a pushover in a crunch. Shy Ellie is nothing but Sabra’s punching bag and we feel sorry for her but she’s too pathetic to actually like. Troubled Tina is pregnant and we feel for her predicament but she, too, is more an object of pity than a heroine. Sabra’s mother seems to love her but doesn’t understand what she needs.

Sabra’s motivations remain a mystery even to herself. She makes various excuses for them throughout the movie – she claims she wants revenge on Rita’s boyfriend Mort for snubbing her. She gets Tina to join her in her blackmail scheme because she says they both need money. At the end she yells at everybody, saying she was driven to this because they wouldn’t let her into their clique. No sort of excuse is ever given for her appalling cruelty to Ellie, who really does seem to look up to her. In Sabra’s own words, she just feels driven to hurt people and doesn’t know why.

All her schemes fail anyway. She doesn’t manage to take Mort away from Rita. She doesn’t manage to get the money she tries to blackmail him for. She doesn’t even succeed in staying out of trouble for the shit she’s already pulled, since at the end everybody gets together, agrees she’s terrible, and turns her in. We’re left feeling like this whole story went by and nothing was ever accomplished. The other characters’ stories don’t come to any conclusion either. We don’t find out if Rita won the election or if she and Mort will get married. We don’t find out what’s going to happen to Tina other than that her parents are coming to pick her up. We don’t find out if Ellie got a life. Everything is just left dangling.

It is never explicit how old any of these characters are supposed to be, but both Sabra and Tina are said to be financially dependent on their parents, and the movie seems to be going for some sort of statement about young people getting into trouble when unsupervised, so I’m going to assume they’re undergraduates. All the actors are, of course, about thirty. Some of them, like June Kenney as Tina, look younger. Some, like Barbara Cowan as Ellie, are trying to look younger and failing. Others, like Dick Miller as Mort, look older. The biggest casting mistake was forty-year-old Fay Baker as Sabra’s mother. She’s just barely old enough to have a college-aged child, but Susan Cabot is in no way young enough to be that child. I could buy Baker as Cabot’s stepmother, but when she’s supposed to be her actual mother I just keep thinking of Space Mutiny.

Perhaps it’s not fair to complain about Mort’s age, since he manages the campus pub and may not be a student. If that’s the case, though, it does make one wonder about his relationship with undergraduate Rita… and the string of prior student girlfriends he’s mentioned… so let’s just not go there.

We get hints that Sabra may be mentally ill. She seems to be upset by her own inability to stop doing terrible things, and at one point reaches out to her mother for help. Her mother assumes she just wants money, and brushes her off. Perhaps we’re meant to think Sabra feels ignored and powerless, and therefore seeks power in whatever form she can get it. We’re probably supposed to feel sorry for her but other than the one visit to her mother she never seems to make any real attempt to better herself. She gives up, goes back to school, and resumes trying to ruin everybody’s life. It’s really quite appropriate that the movie is bookended by Sabra sitting on the beach whining about how she wishes she could start over, because it ends exactly where it began. Sabra is still a colossal bitch and nobody likes her.

If this movie were going to have any sort of punch, I really think it needed to be just a tiny bit longer. Rather than watching Sabra just sit and cry on the seashore, we needed to see her face the consequences of her actions, whether that was arrest, expulsion, disownment, or some combination of the above. Her implied suicide is just a means whereby both she and the writers can avoid any thought of consequences, and is inherently unsatisfying.

Watching the movie for the first time, I really expected Tina to jump and for the truth to come out only after she was dead. Realizing she had somebody’s blood on her hands might have been enough to shock Sabra out of her self-absorbed haze and actually try to be a better person, only to find it was far too late. That this does not happen is in some ways a relief, but it also kind of feels like the movie chickened out. Tina dying would certainly not have made Sorority Girl into a good movie, but it would have been a far more impactful one.

On the other hand, Tina not dying includes the single detail in this entire movie that I actually liked. Throughout the movie, Tina has been sitting on her terrible secret and wondering what to do about it. She never tells a soul – Sabra only finds out because Ellie, Tina’s room-mate, heard her talking in her sleep – out of fear that she’ll be branded a slut and treated as an outcast. Such was the 50’s. Certainly the thought of telling her parents never even seems to occur to her.

But the movie never treats the situation as Tina’s fault. Her pregnancy is not a punishment as Paula’s was in The Violent Years, it’s just a problem that exists and one Tina isn’t coping with very well. Other than Sabra, everybody who finds out about it takes steps to help. Ellie immediately tells Sabra because she believes that Sabra will know what to do – and when Sabra orders her to keep the secret for Tina’s sake, Ellie does so even when interrogated by the house mother. Sabra, being the colossal bitch she is, then blackmails Tina into blackmailing Mort, threatening to tell everybody he’s the father unless he gives her money. Mort refuses to be blackmailed but he doesn’t judge Tina for being pregnant. Instead, once she’s gone he gets in touch with her parents for her… and they don’t judge her either, but immediately come to her aid. So good on the writers, if there were any, for that!

This solidarity also makes the point that all the girls in this sorority really are there for each other and it’s literally just Sabra who is the reason they can’t have nice things. I still don’t know if we’re really supposed to feel sorry for Sabra but this particular detail makes it even harder.

Of all the movies that were ever on MST3K, the one Sorority Girl most reminds me of is The Sidehackers. They don’t have anything in common plot-wise, but both have endings in which nobody wins and it seems like there was no point besides to make the audience feel crummy and lose all faith in the human race. I don’t know what was going on in the year 1957, but here in 2020 we do not need help with that shit. I’m gonna go watch Pixar movies for the rest of the week.

#mst3k #reviews #sorority girl #episodes that never were #tw: suicide #fuck this movie #50s

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lesless · 4 years

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Idk if anyone cares but I’m updating the product search now that I’ve tried a few things & settled on replacements for daily use stuff. I do this every few years, re-evaluate what I use every day & see if there’s better out there! This has been a 9 month trial/error run so I’m happy to share though it may come across as obnoxious lol.

1. My 2 favorite face washes! I use 1/2 pump of Herbivore nightly ($24, a treat back in August so it lasts!) & Origins scrub ($23, bought in May & still have a lot left in the old bottle!) when I shower. My mom introduced me to the latter a decade ago & I love it.

2. “Sometimes” list, Inkey is a nice lightweight moisturizer when it’s cold out ($10), during the day. I don’t really need a moisturizer any more since I found the CBD but it’s cheap & feels good so others might like it. The mini Vitamin C I got to gift the lip balm that came with it to a friend & use it sometimes after breakouts to lighten dark spots ($25, but came with a lip balm I gifted, she who loves it. She didn’t want the oil. Wont get again tbh). The YTTP minis ($24) I just got as a treat & will probably only use at night or in winter, but they feel really nice! Much less of a financial blow than either full size. Probably gonna re up on this when it runs out if I’m still impressed by then.

3. Daily wear, the CBD ($18) is awesome! Soothes skin, smells nice, hydrating & lightweight moisturizing oil. I have normal skin type so I don’t use much, but did love it when camping in freezing weather for hands & face. First Aid Beauty ($34) is lightly tinted & a little pricey but a little goes a long way & I wanted a good daily sunscreen that’s not oily like the one I used before. I squeeze in 1/2 a pump of foundation ($35) into a pea sized amount of sunscreen to help even tone. Considering I never wear straight up foundation, that tube will last the entire year. So I don’t mind the occasional expensive buy.

4. Deodorant ($14 ugh)! Please look at your deo & make sure there’s no aluminum. It is widely used in deodorants that are antiperspirants but is not good for you & contributes to cancers & Alzheimer’s. I tried a few natural ones but this one smells & feels really good. Toothpaste ($6 on range plus dot com)! I have bad enamel due to food intolerances that cause nutrient malabsorption. I ordered this one (with Novamin) from Europe bc it’s not sold in the US. I have no more tooth sensitivity!! I can bite ice cream now. Omg.

#I had fun doing a lil photo shoot haha #me

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clansayeed · 4 years

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Bound by Destiny II, part 1 ― Chapter 1: The Nightmares

PAIRING: Kamilah Sayeed x MC (Nadya Al Jamil) RATING: Mature

⥼ MASTERLIST ⥽

⥼ Bound by Destiny II, part 1 ⥽

While struggling with nightmares of lives she’s never lived, a shadow from the past looming over her city, and the proposed idea that her life may just be a little bit too weird to handle alone, Nadya makes sure to tell herself that everything is perfect just the way it is. If only. When the self-proclaimed King of Vampires (and Maker of her sometimes-girlfriend and always-boss, can’t forget that little tidbit) Gaius Augustine returns intent on claiming Manhattan as the throne that was promised, she and her friends find themselves forced into the task of saving the world. But with millennia-old vampires and an Order of hunters on their heels as well as allies hiding catastrophic secrets at their backs… it won’t be an easy task. Too bad destiny didn’t exactly ask for her input.

Bound by Destiny II and the rest of the Oblivion Bound series is an ongoing dramatic retelling project of the Bloodbound series and spin-off, Nightbound. Find out more [HERE].

*Let me know if you would like to be added to the Destiny II tag list!

⥼ Chapter Summary ⥽

Nadya has a nice job, a gorgeous date-friend, and a calm Feral-free life. But terrifying nightmares keep her from truly enjoying all the things going for her, and the strain of it forces Nadya and her friends to reach a tipping point.

[READ IT ON AO3]

Except for the drawer in the fridge now explicitly labeled ‘BLOOD BAGS ONLY. LILY’S. DON’T TOUCH :)’ (the last part of which is a joke albeit not one Nadya finds very funny) it takes Nadya possibly far too long to realize her life hasn’t really changed all that much since her discovery of vampires.

Well… unless you wanted to count the time she was nearly killed by a bunch of rabid Ferals at a period-attire-required costume ball. Or the time her boss was wrongly convicted of plotting to kill a ton of people for some selfish gains (the details of which she’s still a little fuzzy, and by now asking would just make it uncomfortable). Or when she was one second away from being Evil Vampire Politician food only to be rescued by a Less Evil and Much Older Vampire.

But those weren’t out of the ordinary for someone hurled into this world headfirst and without the pizza that was promised.

Right?

Nadya still goes to work every night and comes home (almost) every day. Though lately with the hours they’ve been pulling she ends up investing in a comfy airplane pillow for quick half-naps at her desk when she can.

She still spends her weekends like a tv sitcom montage of varying positions on the couch while her room mate plays video games and occasionally hacks into bank servers on the side.

She still fumbles over her tongue tied up in a dozen knots every time she sees the gorgeous beauty that is her We’re-Not-Using-Labels-Yet, Kamilah. Though the fact that a 2,000 years-and-then-some vampire babe still finds Nadya’s utter lack of social skills charming in any possible way is a little suspicious.

Best not to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Everything is perfect just the way it is — was — continues to be — will be going forward. Nadya says some version of these facts to herself every day; sometimes out loud and sometimes in her head. Repeats them like a mantra as she goes about her daily routines before and after work. Everything is perfect just the way it is. Everything is perfect just the way it is.

She does this with the hope that one day she just might believe it’s true.

That one day she won’t wake up in the middle of the afternoon screaming her lungs out feeling them torn from her throat that’s still there; scrambling for all ten fingers and all ten toes because some weren’t there a second ago only she doesn’t quite remember how long ago she lost the big toe but it was definitely before the Crimean War; starving with a hunger she can’t describe but she’s sure her friends understand because that’s why Lily (jokingly) put the sticker on her blood drawer the way she did.

Everything is perfect just the way it is. Except when Nadya dreams a thousand lifetimes she’s never lived and so so many of them end with her drowning in innocent blood.

Never has she been more grateful for Lily’s long weekends with her girlfriend, Maricruz, down below the restless New York City streets in the Shadow Den.

Nadya takes long full swallows of tap water in between breaths. Her hand is shaking bad enough to spill but it’s just water and it’s just the bathroom sink and she’ll clean it up later. She should be lucky — just a few minutes ago she lost that hand in a duel against Catherine the Great.

It would have grown back, but still.

THUD. THUD. THU—UD.

Oh great.

“Will you dykes stop screamin’ bloody-freakin’-murder every single god damn day?!” Bellows the ever-delightful upstairs neighbor. Nadya never replies; not even when he storms his stomping feet all the way down the stairwell to pound on her door enraged and miserable.

Still — she only needs one hand to rip out a human’s tongue.

Nadya takes it back the moment she thinks it. Scrambles like she could catch every letter in the air before it floats off to wherever terrible thoughts like that go because they weren’t her thoughts please, please someone believe her.

When she’s showered the sweat from her body, wiped tears from her eyes and wrung the water from her hair Nadya decides, like the masochist she is, to try that sleeping thing again. It’s gonna be a long day at the office if she doesn’t.

And she’d like to think she wars with herself longer than she does — that her decision isn’t already made long before she rummages around in the dark of her blacked out room and plucks her glasses case out from underneath Kamilah’s treasured copy of Hamlet.

But there’s no one around. And these days Nadya can only be honest when she’s alone. Even if it’s only to herself.

She opens the fake leather and feels around for two small pills; spills a bit of water on her sheets because of the shaky hands thing when she knocks them back with the rest of the glass.

She hates it — hates herself for even having considered it in the first place and then some more for actually doing it. But how else is Nadya supposed to hope for some slim chance of mercy and dreamless sleep?

Nadya tries a bit of meditative breathing to pass the time while she waits for the sleeping pills to kick in. Decides maybe now would be a good time to try that mantra of hers.

“Everything…” — inhale; she doesn’t even recognize the sound of her own voice, exhale— “is perfect… just the… just…”

The neighbor resumes his not-so-passive aggressive elephant dance above her head. But Nadya’s weeping so loudly she can barely hear him.

Adrian rests the back of his hand against her forehead lightly. The chill of his touch makes her shiver — and more importantly brings Nadya out of wherever she was that kept her from being there with him.

But Nadya’s relief is short-lived.

“It’s been some time since I’ve had a temperature to feel but I know a fever when I see one.” She tries to wave off his concern like she has every other time, but no dice. “Why didn’t you tell me you were sick?”

“‘Cause I’m not.”

“Is that so?”

“Mmmhm…” Though it would probably help if Nadya remembered what she was mmhm-ing about. But her desktop screen-saver hasn’t been updated since Windows 95 so there goes her hopes of pretending.

Adrian isn’t having it. Mindful of her not-tip-top-shape condition he grabs the arms of her desk chair and turns her slowly; his pace painfully careful and full of caution.

Like she doesn’t know the strength he’s capable of. Like she hasn’t felt it under her own skin.

“Nadya — please Nadya look here, look at my finger.”

She remembers the last time he sounded that worried. One of the rare times the things she sees are both from her eyes and not — where she’s both the main character in the story and just another villain. Back at the Musea Sanguis.

When Valdas did this to me, she thinks bitterly.

But Adrian can’t know about that; can’t see her as weaker and more fragile than she already is. So she sits up a little straighter in her chair — pauses Adrian’s efforts at playing doctor because there’s no way she would be able to see the sun with how badly her glasses are smudged from sleep — and dutifully follows the path he traces in the air.

Nadya (with the surprising aid of Kamilah no less) had eventually managed to convince Adrian whatever psychic mind games the strange and impossibly enigmatic vampire had played on her was nothing more than a one-off. He was no less attentive but that’s just who Adrian is; she could accept that.

Kamilah was a different story. She didn’t help downplay the situation to Adrian because she was content to let Nadya deal with everything alone. Back in the Shadow Den, Nadya had confessed the painful truths of her headaches and nightmares. Hoping, praying maybe, that someone with her wealth of experience and knowledge could give a name to her torment.

Only she couldn’t. And Nadya watches her carry the weight of it every single night.

What Kamilah refuses to understand though is that Nadya is just… so tired. She’s tired of the questions and studies and the three PET scans because why not buy an extremely expensive brain imaging machine for the secret lab underneath your financial empire for one single person.

Nadya knows she’s a terrible person for complaining. She knows Kamilah just wants her alive and safe and pain-free.

She’s just so very very tired.

Adrian groans with effort as he stands. Old habits in pretending to be human, he told her once. Not that he needs to — they’re all alone up here. Nadya is convinced he just likes doing it.

“Well doctor,” Nadya teases, “tell it to me straight. Will I live?”

He doesn’t find it nearly as funny.

“If you were feeling overworked you should have told me.”

“I manage constant anxiety — this is kind of just a state of being.”

“Then maybe we should get you properly che—”

“No.”

Which is her biggest mistake; and she’s made quite a few. But no one is so adamant so quickly without looking suspicious. Nadya is no exception.

She tries to backtrack. “I just… I don’t like doctors. Actual doctors — not my boss.”

“I am an actual doctor,” he corrects but it’s offhanded, “and that isn’t the point. You’re a grown woman — I know — and I don’t want to overstep.”

“Then don’t.”

Adrian closes his mouth softly; lets the words die in the back of his throat. Nadya avoids watching as he returns to his office because she knows she won’t be strong enough to keep up the act. Remember, she reminds herself, this is for the best.

It’s to Adrian’s credit when he emerges from his office come the end of the work night with his coat over his arm and a smile on his face. Even if it is a little strained around the edges.

“Ready to head out?” he asks like nothing happened. Like she wasn’t a stone cold witch to him earlier because he made the mistake of caring.

Nadya hesitates. She had already resigned herself to taking the subway home. But rather than make it harder on herself she just nods and gathers up her things; knows he watches her every motion with sharp eyes and preternatural focus even while her back is turned.

If he isn’t convinced of her ruse by the time she joins him at the elevator he doesn’t say anything. Just holds the door open for her and makes chit-chat to fill the silence. Maybe some day she’ll be able to choke out how grateful she is for it.

When Adrian finally pulls up in front of her building, Nadya is practically already halfway out of the car. He stops her with a hand on her arm.

“Is Lily still out?” he asks, but what he means is are you still alone.

Nadya tries not to make it obvious when she shrugs him off.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Adrian.”

“… See you tomorrow, Nadya.”

He doesn’t pull away until she’s in her building and the door is closed behind her.

Later on, in the middle of the day when she wakes from a deep sleep choking on the feeling of blood hot and wet and satisfying running down her throat a small part of Nadya can’t help but blame him.

She shouldn’t… but she’s doing a lot of things she shouldn’t lately.

Kamilah leans back in her chair and mulls over the flavor of the wine. She’s got that face on that Nadya always worries about when they do things like this. Enigmatic; like she has thoughts but they’re probably much harsher than the words she actually says; “It wouldn’t be my first choice to pair with our meal, but it has its merits.”

“You hate it.”

“Did I say that?” Kamilah quirks an eyebrow her way and that look makes Nadya squirm in her seat for ten thousand other reasons; none of which have to do with wine, the amazing fish entree in front of her, or the high-end restaurant in general.

Nadya calms herself with a sip of her own. She’s actually kind of a fan of it. Sure it was the first fruity option on the menu (after Kamilah translated, of course) but that didn’t mean it wasn’t as ritzy as every other bottle on every other table.

“You didn’t have to let me pick.”

“I wanted to see which appealed most to you.”

When Kamilah says things like that, Nadya can’t help but feel like she’s part of some grand experiment. An attempt at seeing how ‘the other half lives’ or something equally ridiculous. “Why?”

Why let me choose something when its obviously wrong?

Like everything she does, Kamilah chooses her answer carefully.

“You did not choose because you knew the brand, nor the label or even the translation of it. You did not choose this particular wine because you had tried it before, or because you hoped it would compliment some aspect of our meal.”

Nadya feels the tips of her ears burning hot and takes another large gulp to calm her nerves. “I picked the first thing I saw, Kamilah. It’s not that deep.”

Then Kamilah surprises her; she smiles. Not something overly brilliant and bright and yearning — but rare in public and rarer still these days.

“On the contrary. I have always known humans were impulsive creatures. But your impulses fascinate me, Nadya,” Her fingertip traces slender around the lip of her wine glass; holds Nadya hypnotic like everything else about her; her voice, her beauty… that striking sincerity.

“More than any other. Perhaps in ways I do not yet know how to articulate.”

At the other end of the restaurant the violinist returns from his break and resumes his melody; long, slow and rich. Like if he put Kamilah herself into song.

Without breaking their eye contact Nadya carefully turns the woman’s hand facing up by the wrist. Kamilah crooks her finger; scrapes just the tip of her nail tentatively over her human pulse point that has to be like a marching band in her supernatural ears.

Heck, Nadya doesn’t even have supernatural hearing and she catches every thump-thump of her own heart clear as day.

It’s so so rare that Kamilah shows this — and for this long. This kind of public affection; scandalous, salacious practically. Not like she hasn’t been constantly stroking the inside of Nadya’s calf with the tip of her boot since they sat down, though.

It had taken Nadya a couple of months (and more than a few evenings of forcing—actually forcing—Adrian to stop working, pull out the scotch, and explain exactly what the heck might be running through Kamilah’s mind for Nadya’s own mental peace) but she understands now.

Kamilah isn’t private because she’s embarrassed of Nadya. No — Kamilah is private because she is greedy for moments like these. She keeps them behind closed because they are for her eyes only; memories for her to brand onto her soul.

Kamilah weaves their hands together gracefully; the silver of Nadya’s charm bracelet curled in a possessive touch.

“Kamilah…” she whispers, and watches as the woman kisses the back of her hand reverently.

“Nadya.”

Only Kamilah can make her name both a warning and a promise.

[TEXT]: I c SOMEONES bed is still made [TEXT]: gedditttttt ;););)

[TEXT]: OMG Lily stop it

Lily takes her sweet time replying. Leaves Nadya waiting… and waiting… and then there’s the sweet sweet nectar of the gods coffee in front of her and there’s even a little bit of cinnamon sprinkled on top and Lily can wait.

The coffee needs her.

She takes the mug in both hands and drinks deeply — of course the brew scalds her tongue but how is it that Gerard can make such a darn good cup of coffee every time?

“Careful now,” says the Englishman while he goes about putting together Kamilah’s usual table setting; paper folded crisp to the financial section, “you’ll spill all over your nice blouse.”

She’ll give him that, actually. But as she brings her mug to her lips his amused smile falters, then vanishes altogether. For an old man who barely sees the sun Nadya didn’t think he could get any more pale until she sees it with her own eyes.

She follows his startled look to the red marks adorned on her wrists. Bracelets of bruises and Nadya herself was a little surprised when she caught sight of them but if memory serves Kamilah had… ahem, tied the scarves a little tighter than usual.

“Oh. Ha. Uh…”

“Oh I don’t think that is any business of mine,” Gerard recovers hastily, “so long as you’re aware of them, I suppose. Though I’d ask for my peace of mind that you ask Lady Kamilah to fix that for you before you leave.”

When the butler’s back is turned, Nadya touches the skin gently. It barely even hurts.

Kamilah joins them shortly after; returns the butler’s “Good evening, Lady Kamilah,” with a nod and the kind of smile she reserves only for him while she sits.

Nadya knows the routine quite well by now. Kamilah exchanges wordless pleasantries, then takes a sip of her espresso. When she’s cleared the first page of the paper’s financial reports she might join in on a conversation, but more often than not simply continues reading.

So it’s safe to say that when Kamilah pushes the paper aside and turns her seat to face Nadya fully it feels like she’s woken up in an episode of The Twilight Zone.

“Well good morning to you too, sunshine.” Nadya smiles… and doesn’t get one back.

“Why didn’t you tell me your nightmares were getting worse?”

The color drains from Nadya’s face. There goes the mood.

Behind them, Gerard makes a point of clearing his throat far louder than necessary. “You know — I think I might have forgotten to grab the laundry tonight.” He quickly rinses off the last of his dishes and takes his leave of them.

Kamilah waits expectantly in silence. She won’t be repeating herself. Only Nadya can’t muster up the courage to even look her in the eyes anymore.

Instead she fiddles with her nails in her lap. “I guess pretending not to know what you’re talking about is out of the question…”

“Astute,” replies the vampire curtly.

“Any chance I could beg for this to happen any other time but now?” But that just gets her a raised eyebrow in reply so, yeah no. And the idea of waiting out the patience of a woman like Kamilah is borderline laughable. Yet Nadya — she just can’t. Like the idea physically has her in knots and the biggest one is on her tongue which she kind of needs to, you know, speak.

“Please,” and she hates how pitiful she sounds; how weak, “please Kamilah can we… can we not ruin this?”

“I don’t grasp your meaning.”

“This. Us, right now. After a really good date and—and a really good night and… the morning or-whatever-after is supposed to be good too and if we start talking about it I just…” I’m going to ruin it like I ruin everything.

Though she’s thrown for a loop when Kamilah reaches out; places a firm palm on Nadya’s knee and waits, permanent and present, until she gets what she wants.

And maybe Nadya gives a little bit too much too easily. “You already know what’s happening. What else do you want me to say?” Yes, of course they’re getting worse. But if she admits that, she can’t pretend any more.

“You may sleep through these night terrors of yours, Nadya, but perhaps it would benefit you to realize it is you alone that does.”

No it doesn’t — it doesn’t benefit her at all. In fact the realization of it makes her queasy. Suddenly Nadya wishes she hadn’t guzzled half of her coffee and daily sugar intake.

“I didn’t mean to…” didn’t mean to choke on my words, “to wake you.”

“I believe you. If you had maybe you would have been honest with me from the beginning.” Kamilah definitely doesn’t miss the way her heart skips a beat; her frown deepens.

“I—I’ve been honest with you…”

“How easily you lie.”

“Okay — okay mostly; I’ve been mostly honest with you.” The more she talks the harder it gets for Nadya to keep the edge out of her tone. She’s not had a restful sleep in weeks, darn it, she’s owed a little snappiness.

Unlike Adrian though, Kamilah doesn’t take kindly to her attitude. She leans back in her seat with one leg over the other and if this is how she treats the people she does business with no wonder she’s one of the most powerful executives in the country.

“And pray tell how am I to fulfill my promise to you with only mostly-truths? How are mostly-truths able to better help me understand your suffering so that somehow I may discover a way to ease it?”

“Maybe because you keeping your promise isn’t my first priority right now.”

“But it is mine.”

“It’s not about you, Kamilah.”

“Isn’t it?”

Nadya grits her teeth. “No. It isn’t. None of this is about you. I’m the one going through it all, not you.”

Her words are bitter at the back of her throat all the way up to the tip of her tongue and beyond. Like something thick and dark and foul that seeps from her pores and just… out.

After a moment Kamilah takes her espresso and sips it idly. It’s something to do with her hands that isn’t harmful, something to do with her mouth that isn’t scolding.

Nadya thinks of a dozen different ways to apologize in the following quiet. One day she might even pluck up the courage to say them.

“What happened?” She asks instead, and watches Kamilah’s reaction. The stiffness of her breaks Nadya’s heart. “You said it yourself; I’m asleep. And I don’t always remember —”

“Last night included.”

She nods. “Last night included. So… please? Please.” Which is far too much begging for someone actually terrified to get their answer.

But she’s a glutton for punishment. That much is crystal clear.

For a moment it looks like Kamilah is ready to walk away; that she’s had enough. Then she changes her mind. It hits Nadya way too late that the woman is shifting in her seat; that she’s uncertain.

“That bad, huh?”

“It is not an incident I wish to repeat.”

“Like I do?” And she totally deserves the glare sent her way. “You know what I mean.”

“You were in immense distress, Nadya!” Kamilah very nearly shouts. Though even that holds her usual husked tone; her inner silence. She doesn’t raise her voice out of rage and that knowledge is scaring the both of them.

What it means is scaring the both of them.

“You tossed and turned and nothing would wake you. My every effort was wasted — I would have had better luck rousing a statue to life! I find myself despairing to think of what it must be like when you sleep alone in your own bed. Without someone to at least try… even if in vain. Without someone to…”

Don’t stop now. She has to hear it; she has to. “Without someone to what, Kamilah?”

“Without someone to hold you down and keep you from hurting yourself.”

Suddenly her wrists are a far less pleasant thing to look at; now that she knows they aren’t bruises of pleasure, but bruises of pain.

Kamilah watches as she rubs at the skin self-consciously. “I meant to heal you before you woke. So that you would not have to see what I resorted to.”

“You held me down hard enough to bruise.”

“And the very sight repels me.” Kamilah tries to take her hands but Nadya can’t help it — she pulls back with an impulse she doesn’t really understand, “When I had tried everything I could think of to no avail… I weighed my options. I would rather you know and understand what these nightmares are doing to you than find yourself unable to wake up at all.”

Unable to wake up at all. Hard words for Nadya to swallow. But they’ve got nothing on the pain Kamilah tries to hide with the long curtain of her hair. Something so strong she can’t push it back beneath the mask.

With a deep breath Nadya rests her wrists turned up in Kamilah’s hands. Rests a lot more in them too — and not even just tonight, right here right now. But it’s Nadya who solves everyone else’s problems — not the other way around. Can she be blamed for holding something back? For trying to keep herself from being vulnerable in the face of such invulnerability?

Slender fingers brush softer than a feather over Nadya’s skin.

“I anticipated… an uglier sight than this.” The vampiress admits and her voice is strained. The very thought is eating her alive.

“Well, it’s not. And, hey — did I hurt you?” She roams her eyes over every visible inch of the woman. Just because she can’t see anything, though, doesn’t mean nothing is there.

Kamilah can’t stand the sight any longer — regardless of lack of pain or noble intent. She holds back on answering Nadya’s question to bring a hand to her parted lips. The barest flash of pearly white, then red beading like a swollen jewel in compliment with her skin.

Kamilah takes great care in easing the blood over and into her skin; like a fine oil or lotion — something to make Nadya beautiful.

Maybe to a vampire this is beautiful.

The bruising heals rapidly before their eyes; holds Nadya captive in a reel on fast-forward that blooms to purpling blue to mottled red to greenish to yellow then poof. Like it never even happened.

Kamilah strokes the result with a tenderness that should be reserved for fine silks and glittering gold. Should be, Nadya thinks, and yet it’s her that gets that affection; that promise.

Who needs impassioned declarations of love when they could have this?

“I know you mean to ask if you somehow managed to injure me physically while you slept. But when I say I was wounded…” she knows Nadya so so well and keeps her from pulling away by lacing their fingers together, “when I say I was wounded, I do so in the hopes that you’ll understand I will no longer accept mostly-truths.”

She’s regretting saying that the more Kamilah repeats it. “I understand.”

“Best that you do.”

Nadya pushes herself into the woman’s arms in a tight embrace; buries her face into the coolness of her neck and it jostles Nadya’s glasses askew but she couldn’t care less. If she had looked at Kamilah for one more moment she would have broken down.

All this and they still don’t have any answers. They just have more questions and more symptoms and… and more resolve, maybe. But it’s not something they can solve in one night.

And just because Nadya doesn’t remember anything clear from her nightmares doesn’t mean they don’t linger. Something of a shadow in the corner of her eye when she looks in the mirror.

Maybe its time she forces that shadow into the light.

#bloodbound #kamilah x mc #kamilah sayeed #bloodbound fanfiction #playchoices fanfiction #fic: oblivion bound #oblv: bound by destiny ii #oblv: new chapter #bloodbound mc #mc: nadya al jamil #adrian raines #lily spencer #; my fics

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