#the first one's the 'i AM american asshole' exchange if you were wondering. first the racism and now he's getting called a fruit | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

neakco · 3 years

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The Lost Temple

Ao3 ch.2 Masterlist

Marinette and Adrien just wanted to find the temple and go back to pretending they were normal young adults.

Tim just wanted to find out what was going on for Batman and go back home.

Konner and Bart were just along for the adventure.

Neither group expected the other, nor did they expect the complications that followed.

Ch.1: Meetings

Marinette stepped carefully along the jungle floor as Adrien bounced through the trees. Every once and a while she would stop to examine a plant just as he would stop to listen.

Eventually he dropped down beside her without a sound.

“Are you sure this is the right area M'lady?”

“The monks said there were signs of people stopping around.”

“And them being worried about people snooping means this should be where we find the temple.” He nodded sagely before hopping back into the trees. “Did they ever decide to tell you at least what this temple is guarding?”

She shook her head as she stepped over a drowsing snake, “I only know that we need to find it first.”

Adrien hummed quietly before opening his mouth to taste the air.

“Anything?”

“Nothing new. We still have moss, damp, plant, running water and the normal animal smells.”

She sighed to herself, “keep up the good work Kitty, I know we'll find something eventually.”

She glanced around briefly for a flash of red that would indicate Tikki and Plagg returning. She wasn’t worried about being without their power source., not since the final battle. They had been something more than human for years now, but there was still something reassuring about the tiny gods' presence.

She looked up to see Adrien staring down a tiger and shook her head with silent laughter. So maybe he was a lot more cat than human. She thought back on everything as the tiger bowed to let her partner by.

All his physical abilities had been enhanced to the point she was jealous. Her strength had increased a little but for her it was the non-physical that had increased. Everything constantly in balance.

She brushed her hand along a small plant but still received nothing new, the temple either didn’t give off enough residual magic or it was still too far off.

As they continued their search the surrounding animals watched peacefully. They all knew better than to interfere with destruction and creation. It is almost a shame this protection didn’t extend to the trio following them stealthily.

“Rob, they are kids like us. Are you sure they're the ones B sent us after?”

Red Robin sighed, “Batman said he had picked up unusual activity and these two are the only ones we have seen.”

Kon grabbed a snake that was about to drop on Tim and gently tossed it back into the trees.

A small wind picked up as Bart came to a stop and offered them some burgers. “What did I miss?”

Tim pinched the bridge of his nose, “This is supposed to be a reconnaissance mission. Stealth.”

Bart laughed and moved to avoid a brightly coloured plant, “But that is so boring.”

“This was also a solo mission, you two weren’t invited. So please either leave or be quiet.”

Bart held out a mug of coffee that Tim accepted instantly.

“Fine, just cause chaos quietly.” He pulled out his binoculars again before putting them down to rub at his eyes. He would have sworn he saw the teens talking to some large bugs.

“I still don’t think they're dangerous.” Kon whispered almost to himself.

Tim really wondered some days why these were his best friends.

Tikki and Plagg hid quietly as Adrien grinned chaotically, “Plan mouse trap?”

Marinette returned the grin, “You know me so well Chaton.”

Tim was so close, just a little farther and he would be able to hear the teens.

Kon suddenly stuck out an arm to stop him.

“What?”

“I can’t see the guy anymore.”

Bart glanced around, “Isn’t he just in the treetops again?”

Tim reached for a weapon when a collapsible baton lightly smacked his wrist.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

The blonde had somehow gotten behind them.

All three heroes turned but before any of them could react a rope dropped around Bart and pulled him to the ground.

“You heard my partner.”

The girl was fast. Tim couldn’t figure out how she had gotten to them so quickly, until he looked down. There were at least three more loops of rope. They had walked into a trap.

Kon looked to Tim for the signal to attack but Tim wanted more information.

The blonde dropped gracefully from the trees but skillfully kept the baton pointed at Tim. “Why are you following us?”

“Why have you been disturbing the jungle?” He countered.

The girl walked up to stand beside the blonde, “We haven’t disturbed anything.”

The blonde glared, “We’re only here because you have been digging around.”

“But we only just got here.” Bart spoke suddenly out of confusion.

Tim kind of wanted to hit him.

The girl and boy exchanged a look before speaking in a language Tim had never heard before finally the boy collapsed his staff and put it away.

He offered a hand to Kon while the girl untied Bart and gathered up the remaining rope traps.

“I think we have both suffered a misunderstanding.” The girl held out a hand to Tim, “Marinette.”

“Impulse.” Bart had moved to take her hand in a blink, “It is always a pleasure to meet a lovely lady.”

The blonde laughed as Kon finally accepted the handshake, “Adrien.”

“Superboy.”

Tim could see his friend putting more strength then necessary into his grip but the blonde, Adrien, didn’t even flinch. Interesting.

Since Bart hadn’t stopped shaking the girl’s hand yet he decided to cross his arms and smile as politely as he could. “Red Robin. May I ask what misunderstanding you think we've had?”

The girl, Marinette, pried her hand away from Bart before glancing back to spot the starring contest between Adrien and Konner.

“Kitty!” She scolded before turning back to him.

He watched Adrien smile innocently at Kon before sitting down at Marinette’s side.

“We were sent to investigate the activity in this area and put a halt to it if necessary. If you just arrived then you are likely not our target.”

“They're here for the same reason we are Red.” Bart grinned widely as he bounced up and down.

Tim wanted to growl in frustration but knew that was something only Batman could get away with, so he settled on pinching the bridge of his nose. “Impulse, we are only here to gather information. We are not supposed to interfere with anything without orders to do so.”

Marinette and Adrien exchanged another secretive glance before conversing in Mandarin.

“Do you think we could recruit them M'lady?”

“That’s up to them. It would be nice to have help searching though, this is a large jungle.”

“Do you think they can even help find the temple? Superboy is supposed to have x-ray vision but, well, magic.”

Impulse was pouting, “It’s not fair that I can’t understand you. In fact it’s rude. Isn’t it rude Red?”

“I'm sorry. We aren’t used to others around us being.. “ She paused for a moment.

“Friendly?” Adrien supplied.

“That's one word to describe them.” She grimaced.

“Helpful? Polite? Non-hostile? “ Adrien's grin kept getting wider but also slightly more malicious with each suggestion. “Smart? How about, not complete and utter assholes bent on dictating every breathe? I can keep going.”

She started laughing but she could feel the concern coming from the American heroes. “I think that's good Kitty, don’t want to scare them away.”

“Sorry Mari.”

She looked back to Red Robin and Impulse in front of her. “I am sorry, we were discussing working with you three if you wanted to. We would be able to cover more ground and hopefully locate our target in under a week.”

Superboy spoke upfront behind them, “Why mention my name and not the others?”

Adrien contorted to look at the floating boy, “I was wondering if you actually had x-ray vision and if it could be useful in the search.”

Marinette was proud of Adrien, neither of them were the best at lying, so it was nice to see Superboy accept his sincerity and not ask for more in depth details. Red Robin was a different matter entirely, she could see him analyzing them. So she held out her hand.

“What do you say Red, alliance?”

Tim stared a moment before reluctantly shaking, “Agreed. We can discuss the terms as we find a place to camp for the night.”

The two teens looked confused.

“Were you seriously planning to keep going? The sun is setting.”

“Don’t you have night vision goggle or something?” Adrien asked.

Tim was flabbergasted, did these two think that the dark was the only danger they faced. “I do, but this is a jungle. Most of the predators are nocturnal “ The two still looked confused so he elaborated, “I don’t want to be eaten.”

He watched their eyes slowly widened in understanding. Marinette hit a fist into her hand, “I had totally forgotten “

“Predators are a normal threat.” Adrien finished for her with a grin.

Tim eyed them suspiciously, he had been following them all day, and all day he had been avoid snakes and large sleeping felines. Were these two really that lucky to have not encountered anything or was there more going on?

Kon also eyed them suspiciously as moved to no longer be behind them. “How do you forget about predators? I am immune to their attacks and I still remember that they’re dangerous.”

Tim watched the duo have a silent conversation before Marinette sighed, “We forgot because there is nothing in nature that would attack us.”

He and his friends waited for one of them to say more but the duo just blinked at them.

He mentally pinched his nose, this was going to be a long mission. “You aren’t going to elaborate.”

“Nope.” The duo replied in perfect tandem.

Adrien grinned mischievous, “You need to earn the favour of our gods for that.”

Marinette planted her face into her hands, “Kitty, no.”

“Kitty yes.”

“How do we earn their favour? Do they take prayers, food offerings?” Bart asked excitedly.

Kon looked sharply towards Adrien as the boy laughed, “Depends on the food.”

“Camembert.” Kon supplied.

Tim blinked. What god would want that? Then he noticed that the duo had paled considerably. So Kon had either heard or saw something that led to that answer. Interesting.

Bart, of course, noticed nothing. “Ew, that cheese stinks. Cheese whiz is far superior.”

Tim and his friends all jumped as Marinette slapped Adrien hard enough in the chest to cause the boy a coughing fit. What the hell had he missed? It looked painful yet Adrien was smiling and thanking her. He filed this away to think about later.

“So are we making camp?” Marinette smiled sweetly at him.

It was official, Tim hated this mission.

I have the story finished it is just a matter of typing it all up and convincing myself not to scrap the epilogue. There should be 7 chapters in total.

Let me know your thoughts, I am happy to answer any questions that don't give away the plot.

#maribat #the lost temple #rin writes #adventure

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angrylizardjacket · 3 years

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dirtbags // 5: Charlotte

Summary: High School AU. 1985. Winter. Charlotte and Razzle are officially not dating, while Lola’s not dating someone but won’t say who, though she’s contemplating sleeping with Tommy in an effort to get him to stop pining for her, which Charlotte thinks is a terrible idea. Except that Charlotte lets slip to Tommy that that’s Lola’s plan, and he doesn’t take it well. The whole pack ends up at the Drive-In, which is going great for Charlotte and Razzle right up until Nikki decides to be an ass, and Charlotte realises that Tommy has spoken to Lola about their fight. It looks like things will be getting worse before they get better.

A/N: 6655 words. long overdue sorry!! @misscharlottelee and @evaangelics my beloveds this is, as always, for you both. ft. asofterworld quotes

my sister and i both hate antique shopping. but we love hating things together.

So yes, technically Charlotte and Razzle spent the better part of Heather’s party in a dark corner being altogether gross, as an incredibly drunk Peach had informed them both before she was pulled away by a far more sober Vince, which Charlotte hadn’t thought much of at the time, herself more than a little tipsy, but hearing Eileen rant in the diner the following day had made her feel a little guilty for not paying more attention. Not that anything bad happened, but still, she felt partially responsible for the young ginger girl.

But the point is that Charlotte and Razzle are not dating, despite what everyone in their weird and ragtag bunch of lunchtime delinquents likes to imply. If Charlotte could justify punching Nikki again, she absolutely would. It’s not her fault that Razzle’s interesting and kind and honest and funny, and if she finds herself feeling a little heady, a little good-nauseous, like she had back when she and Duff had first been dancing around the idea of being a couple, she pushes those feelings to the back of her mind and distracts herself with something, anything else.

Right now, she’s got a terrible headache and is having a whisper argument with Lola in the middle of art, trying to talk her out of pity-fucking Tommy.

“You make it sound so crass and heartless,” Lola’s lip curled, frowning at the red pencil in her hand and the cartoon drawing of a flower in her notes, “pity-fucking,” the word sounds wrong on Lola’s lips, tone derisive, “you say it like I don’t care about him.”

“Don’t pity-fuck my cousin, you can both do better,” Charlotte rubs at her temples, eyes closed, as Lola makes a noise like she’s not too sure if that’s a compliment, “a few weeks ago, you promised me you were just friends -”

“He’s a hopeless romantic who keeps hearing about cheerleaders sleeping with people who aren’t him, lemme put him out of his misery -”

“By fucking him? What if he catches further feelings for you?”

“I dunno, I’ll kill him?” Lola suggests flippantly, and when Charlotte cracks her eyes open to level a glare at Lola, the dark haired girl is grinning, clearly joking.

“Why Tommy? Why can’t you sleep with someone less related to me?” Charlotte hisses, tone vaguely annoyed and desperate, “I thought you were getting laid? What’s up with you and Nikki anyways?” There’s a shift in her tone, and Lola makes a face, pressing a little harder with her pencil.

“I am sleeping with someone less related to you,” Lola says, though there’s a strangely guarded quality to her voice, “not Nikki, for the record; he’s the one who suggested I sleep with Tommy to begin with. He’s too much of a bitch to fuck me himself,” she mutters, mostly to herself, a little wrinkle creasing the bridge of her nose as she thinks about it.

“Wait, you’re seeing someone? For real? And it’s not Nikki?” Charlotte’s expression lit up, and Lola gave her a calculating looking out of the corner of her eye.

“I bet we both know another person I’m not sleeping with,” and Lola’s tone is mean and a little venomous as she deftly changes the subject, “how is our favourite exchange student, by the way?” Charlotte realises too late that her excited questioning of Lola’s private life may have touched a nerve. For all that Lola’s become more open in the few months they’ve been friends, there were strange lines Charlotte kept finding. Lola never really acted as though she cared much about Charlotte and Razzle’s vague status, so to use it against Charlotte was a surprise, and a clear giveaway that one of those lines had been crossed. It got Lola’s message across well enough, and Charlotte’s mouth snapped closed.

Lola was a terrible distraction when she wanted to be.

“Lola’s not seeing anyone,” Nikki says flatly around his cigarette, and when Charlotte realises she’s gossiping with Nikki Sixx, she wonders idly where her life went wrong, “she’s fucking someone,” he corrected, “and she refuses to tell me who, but she’s not seeing anyone.” He sounds far more annoyed than Charlotte had anticipated, and she can’t help herself. She tugs on that string.

“Wait, so it’s actually not you?”

“Lola’s dad is built like He-Man, Master of the Fucking Universe, have you seen him, Charlie? I couldn’t stick it in his daughter and bring myself to look him in the eye every other day; and I’m past worrying if he’s gonna toss me into space like he’s an Olympic hammer thrower,” Nikki considers for a moment, before heaving a sigh, “I just don’t wanna disappoint him.”

“You think fucking Lola’s gonna disappoint her dad?” Charlotte’s brow wrinkled with slight confusion, “why do you even talk to her dad every other day?”

“We work together?” Nikki says, like it’s the simplest answer in the world, and oh, suddenly Charlotte knows exactly why the back of the fry cook in Leo’s looked so familiar. Nikki can obviously read it on her face as the realisation, the full understanding of the situation dawns on Charlotte, but it still doesn’t stop her from bursting out with laughter.

“Oh dude, you definitely cannot fuck your boss’s daughter, no matter how much you so clearly want to -”

“Hey!” Nikki snapped, “bold words coming from you, Miss Lee; you already made sure Razz has had the full American High School Experience, or are you waiting for Prom to go full cliché about it?”

“Nikki, I’ve already punched you in the face once, so help me -”

“Yeah but now I know what to expect, I’m kinda into it,” Nikki’s grin is all teeth, and he leans across the table, into Charlotte’s space, “do it again, Miss Lee,” he teases, offering up his cheek to her, grinning from ear to ear. Charlotte makes a disgusted noise, leaning back, crossing her arms.

“You disgust me; can you please quit your job so you can fuck Lola?”

Thankfully, this seems to take the wind out of Nikki’s sails, his expression falling to something irritated as he huffs and drops his gaze, sitting back dejectedly, and pointedly refusing, unable to come with a snide comeback in time to save face.

“Lola would punch you in the face,” Charlotte pointed out, tone a little smug, and Nikki presses his lips together, trying very hard to keep his expression neutral as a blush creeps up his cheeks.

“So would that leggy redhead of yours,” he’s quick to change the conversation, “isn’t she in the musical? You know my band’s still looking for a singer -”

“Lemme stop you right there,” Charlotte stops Nikki in his tracks, holding up a single hand for silence, “first of all, the only person Eileen hates more than you is Vince Neil, and she told me personally that she’d rather eat glass than join your band, secondly -”

“You talked about my band with her?” There’s something a little bashful in Nikki’s voice, and the blush hasn’t left his cheeks; the whole picture would be endearing if he wasn’t such a colossal asshole.

“Secondly,” Charlotte tries again, “you know her name’s Eileen; everyone knows her name is Eileen, stop calling her my leggy redhead,” she ordered, before taking a deep breath, trying to let her irritation subside, “and thirdly, Lola was the one who asked Eileen to be in your band, Eileen just brought it up to me because she knew Tommy was in it.” Nikki, who had already been pink all over, was steadily turning red, trying to hide it as he made a show of patting down his pockets looking for his cigarettes.

“Lola... uh, she talks about my band? She asked if Eileen wanted to join us?” He’s shooting for casual and missing the mark miserably, much to Charlotte’s delight.

“You’re so in love with her,” she smirks. Nikki scowls at her. The bell rings.

i have found a way to watch video in your head. high definition, with instant replay. it is called having regrets.

When Eileen invites Charlotte to the drive in, and suggests bringing Razzle, she insists it’s not a date, that some of the people from the musical were just getting together to watch the new horror movie, and she thought it would be good for Razzle to experience a proper, drive-in movie. That probably should have set of alarm bells in Charlotte’s mind, since everyone knew that if you take someone to a horror movie at the drive-in, you generally don’t end up actually watching much of the movie. It’s one of the oldest tricks in the book.

But Eileen’s adamant, and Charlotte honestly wouldn’t actually mind sneaking off with Razzle at some point, if the opportunity arose, not that she’s admit that.

“I should ask Lola to go,” Tommy says, tone a little wistful, when, on Thursday, Charlotte tells him her plans for the following evening; alarm bells definitely start ringing.

They’re in Tommy’s kitchen after school, with his mom at the supermarket, and his dad at work, they’ve got the house to themselves, apart from Tommy’s sister upstairs, monopolising the phone. Charlotte’s sitting on the counter, while Tommy’s staring into the refrigerator, not actually looking at what’s in there, thoughts miles away as he considers his own words.

“Shut that if you’re not going to get anything, and no you shouldn’t,” Charlotte shuts him down immediately, to which Tommy frowns, asking derisively when she became the boss of him, slamming the fridge closed, “I thought you two were just friends,” Charlotte counters with.

“I can ask a friend to the drive-in,” though the way he suddenly can’t meet her gaze betrays him, and he flits over to a cupboard, opening it and staring at the food inside, trying to decide on an afternoon snack, “why are you here, anyways?” At this, Charlotte goes quiet and pensive, looking down at her knees as her heels kick softly against the cupboards below, trying not to think about how her mother keeps leaving college brochures out, with Law, Accounting, and Medicine courses all meticulously highlighted, or how whenever they’re in the same room, she’s treated to passive aggressive questions about whether she’s seen the brochures her parents know she definitely hasn’t touched.

“Am I not allowed to hang out with you?” Charlotte finally surfaces from her thoughts to see that Tommy is waiting for an answer.

“Not if you’re going to be an asshole.”

“If you’re going to daydream about Lola, I’m going to be an asshole,” Charlotte fired back, snarkily, and Tommy narrowed his eyes at her.

“You’ve become kind of a bitch since you started hanging out with Nikki,” he huffs, and Charlotte straightens up where she’s sitting, eyes going wide with disbelief, with slight outrage.

“I’m just fucking sick of hearing you chase after girls who don’t want you! It’s all you ever talk about!”

“Lola wants me! Lola fucking wants me, Charlie!”

“She doesn’t want you, she wants to pity-fuck you so you’ll get off her damn case! Just how naïve are you, Thomas?” Charlotte yells back, and immediately smacks her hand to her mouth, regret written all over her face. Tommy’s expression falls like his heart is breaking. “Tommy -”

“A real, fucking bitch,” there’s a shake in Tommy’s voice that is breaking Charlotte’s heart, and she tries to apologise, but he tells her to go home.

Yes, she leaves, she shuts the door behind herself, but she can’t bring herself to go home. Her feet carry her while her mind is blank, but when she looks up, she’s pushing open the door to the gas station, seeing Mick Mars look up from his magazine. Before he greets her, she sees the way his eyes search the space around her, roam the empty fuel pumps, as if expecting Tommy to pop out behind her. Then, once he considers himself safe, he puts down his magazine, tilting his head curiously at her, at her dejected demeanour.

“Charlotte?” She’s actually surprised that he knows her name, and Charlotte hovers in the door, letting in the cold air from outside as she deliberates. Why had she come here of all places? “Are you okay?” The words sound strange, like he’s not used to saying them, not used to showing any sort of care, but she appreciates them nonetheless.

“I was a massive asshole to Tommy,” the words spill from her before she can stop them, and she watches Mick’s expression, can almost see him fight back several sarcastic or congratulatory remarks, suppressing his own well-worn irritation for her cousin, instead, just making a noise in the back of his throat that she can’t quite decipher. Then, he looks out the window, looks to the clock on the wall, and takes his feet off the counter carefully.

“Do you want a slurpee?” He asks, obviously a little uncertain of how to proceed.

“Not really,” Charlotte admits, and Mick awkwardly looks around, as if to offer something else.

“Do you smoke?” He’s already pulling a packet of cigarettes from his pocket. Charlotte shoves her hands into her coat pockets, shaking her head, looking at the floor, not quite sure where to go from here herself, “do you mind if I smoke?”

“No,” her voice is small.

They sit on the step by the door outside the gas station, side by side, silent for a few minutes as Mick smokes his cigarette. No cars approach, but they watch some drive by as the sun sinks lower in the sky.

“I told him Lola doesn’t want him, that she’s just interested in pity-fucking him because she thinks it’d get him off her case,” Charlotte admits, and from the corner of her eye, she sees Mick wince, a sign that what she’d said truly was a dick move.

“That would’a broken the kid’s heart,” Mick muses around his cigarette, and Charlotte, who’d had her knees curled up to her chest, rests her chin on them, with a quiet ‘I know’.

“He said I turned into an asshole since I became friends with Nikki Sixx, and then I just managed to prove him right,” she seethes, disappointed in herself more than anything else.

“That’s your first problem; being friends with Nikki Sixx.”

“That was an accident,” Charlotte tried to defend herself, “and I’ve been friends with Nikki for kind of a while, honestly, but I was just so sick of hearing Tommy moon over girls who don’t even look twice at him, like they hung the stars in the sky -”

“Charlotte,” Mick interrupts her, his voice soft but insistent, and when she finally looks at him, he’s actually frowning at her, hands stilled with another cigarette half-pulled from it’s packet, “that’s not... you know why what you said hurt him, right? You know you could’a said that about any other cheerleader he was into and it would’a rolled right off his back, right?”

Oh. Oh no. Slowly, Charlotte’s expression crumbles as the full weight of her words dawns upon her, her guilt skyrocketing. Face in her hands, she actually wails, and Mick gives a firm pat on the back as a show of support.

“They’re friends, Mick.”

“I know, Charlotte.”

“God, fuck, he probably thinks that I mean she doesn’t even like him as a friend, Mick!”

“Yeah,” he sighed deeply, giving another pat, “I know, Charlotte.”

“I just... don’t want him to get his heart broken,” she admitted, her only attempt to justify herself, which Mick didn’t accept as a proper answer for a moment.

“He’s sixteen, he’s gotta make his own mistakes, and,” at this he hesitates, lighting up his cigarette and taking a long draft as he deliberated saying his next words, “don’t ever let her know I told you this,” he adds seriously, “but the last thing Lola wants to do is hurt that kid; if anything, she’s hoping hooking up with him will strengthen their friendship, and raise his confidence for when he goes after other girls.” This... is a lot to process.

“How do you even know this?” Charlotte asked, bewildered, and Mick scrunches his face up and takes another long inhale on his cigarette.

“We’re friends,” is what he settles on.

“What?”

“Lola and I... are friends,” he sounds like he doesn’t want to admit it, and visibly cringes as he follows it up with, “she cares about that kid, and speaks very highly of him, and of you, honestly, and maybe the kid’s not as irritating as I had him pegged as. He’s still irritating, but he,” and he audibly groans, hanging his head for a moment, as if disappointed that he’s even saying any of this, “he’s a good friend to Lola.” It’s like the words themselves hurt him to admit, so he changes the topic quickly, “she told me he’s in a band with Sixx, actually,” and his tone is thankfully much less strained as he straightens his posture a little, ignoring Charlotte’s frankly flabbergasted expression, “I’ve been seriously considering joining them.”

“You sing?” Is what Charlotte hears herself say, without really registering it. Mick snorts derisively.

“Fuck no, I play guitar.”

“You sho- you should join them,” Charlotte babbles, trying to make sense of everything that she’d just learned, and now this of all things, but it’s going to take her a while.

“I should,” he agrees with the barest hint of a smile, once more clapping her on the back. He hesitates before he stands, like he wants to say something else, but instead, he gives an awkward smile and gets to his feet, heading back inside, leaving Charlotte in silence.

Eileen gives her a lift to school the following morning, seething about how Peach got a part-time job and their parents still aren’t happy. It’s conflicting for the older sister, who hates hearing the derisive way her parents refer to Peach as a ‘burger flipper’, while Peach herself had sneered when Eileen had asked about the job, telling her older sister that she was done grovelling at their parents’ feet just to exist, with an implied ‘unlike you’ which had been so uncharacteristic of the usually kind and upbeat Peach that it had sent Eileen spiralling. It was the third day in a row Eileen had been ranting about it, about how she just wanted to support Peach, but that her whole family appeared to be turning on each other.

Charlotte found herself relating to that particular sentiment far too well.

Half their ragtag bunch of lunchtime misfits is notably absent from their usual lunchtime hang out, so while Charlotte spends the forty minutes picking apart her food like she’s trying to deconstruct it atomically, Razzle sits diligently as Eileen carefully and meticulously braids his hair, while he asks if he needs to bring anything, or wear anything special to the drive in that Friday. Charlotte’s not paying them any attention, just letting her gaze roam distractedly essentially until the bell rings, and Eileen pulls the hairband from her own hair to secure Razzle’s braid, before taking off.

“Anybody home in that head of yours, Charlie? The bell’s gone,” Razzle’s offering her his hand where he’s standing, and Charlotte finally returns to reality from her blank, concerned mind, wiping the last few crumbs of her sandwich on her jeans picking up her bag with one hand and taking Razzle’s hand with the other. Today he’s chosen to wear a royal purple collared shirt, several sized too big for him, with the sleeves rolled up, tucked into tight, acid-washed jeans littered with naturally-made holes, his backpack on his back, and a black, corduroy jacket slung over one shoulder; with his newly acquired braid, the whole look is quite fetching, quite -

“You look like a prince,” Charlotte feels rather foolish for even saying it, can feel as the blush rises on her cheeks, but Razzle’s beaming as he pulls her to her feet, and doesn’t let go of her hand for a moment.

“Well then I must be truly lucky to get court a princess like you,” and coming from anyone else, it would have sounded cheesy, or the phrase princess would have been derisive or snide, but he’s sincere, almost painfully so, and Charlotte ducks her head, “not courting,” Razzle corrects quickly, and Charlotte doesn’t think about how her heart sinks at that, despite how they’d talked through this.

“Princess Charlie -” something about the way he says her name always hits her hard, because hearing how it sounds, the reverence with which he says it, the nervousness, she leans in and kisses him quickly, can’t help herself, can’t stop herself. But then she’s leaning back, getting a better grip on her backpack, but - “wait, wait, wait, Charlie, wait -” Razzle, for the barest moment, tightens his grip on her hand, and she’s terrified that she crossed a line, that she’s done something wrong, but she turns back, and he doesn’t seem to be mad or concerned, instead he drops the jacket he’d been holding, gently taking her face in his hands, “can’t spring that on me and get away with it; lemme do it proper.”

i am going to build a new boyfriend out of garbage and dirty feathers. no one else will touch him.

“Did you tell Tommy we were coming here?” Eileen hissed, startling the hell out of Charlotte at the concession stand at the drive-in before the movie began. Charlotte, who had been hovering in line, nervously retucking her nice blouse into her skirt every few minutes, almost jumped out of her skin at her friend’s voice in her ear.

“Yeah, I - why?” Looking around, Charlotte thankfully can’t see Tommy’s shitbox of a car, but it becomes readily apparent the source of Eileen’s frustrations, when she spots a shiny, red sports car parked four cars past where Keanu and his good friend and well known fellow theatre kid Alex Winter were sitting on the hood of Keanu’s car, chatting animatedly with Razzle, who they had been quick to warm to him upon meeting him about twenty minutes ago.

“Charlie!” The name came out as a frustrated noise from between Eileen’s clenched teeth, her eyes glued to Vince Neil’s ostentatious car, and Charlotte looked down for a moment, before adjusting her skirt again and retucking her shirt as she spoke.

“I didn’t know he’d tell Vince; I haven’t spoken to him since yesterday afternoon,” and she hesitates before adding, “we got into this fight and I’ve been trying to figure out how to apologise but I don’t know how, so it kind of slipped my mind, I didn’t know -”

“We’ll talk about you and Tommy later, I promise, but right now I need you to tell me three convincing arguments as to why I shouldn’t pop one of Vince Neil’s fucking tires.” Eileen’s hatred of Vince is perhaps getting out of hand, Charlotte considers, prying Eileen’s vice-like grip from her upper arm, considering for a moment.

“I know you have no qualms about becoming a felon to protect Peach,” Charlotte says with half a smirk.

“Absolutely none,” Eileen agrees without missing a beat, which was both amusing and heartwarming.

“- but your mom would probably pull you out of public school to enrol you in that strict, girls-only, future-nun-school, Our Lady Of Perpetual Sorrow,” Charlotte’s trying so desperately not to smirk, not to give her amusement away at the concept, “and you can say goodbye to any chance you had of ever making out with your co-star on or off stage.”

Eileen turns as red as her hair, but at least she takes a moment to calm down, glancing over her shoulder at the three boys who were waiting for them. Keanu looks over for a moment, catching her gaze, waving and grinning from ear to ear, and Charlotte practically cackles as Eileen’s blush deepens.

“Look, Eileen look,” Charlotte pointed insistently back at the boys, to where Alex had hopped off the hood of Keanu’s car, and was making his way over to the pack of kids Eileen had vaguely gestured to earlier, mentioning that they made up most of the technical theatre department, despite their leather jackets and motorcycles, leaving Razzle and Keanu chattering away, “Alex is going to hang out with the Crew boys, leaving Keanu free to comfort you during the scary movie.”

Eileen takes a deep breath, not even pretending like that wasn’t what she wanted, steeling herself to head back, and ignore Vince Neil’s goddamn car. After a beat, however, she turns to Charlotte, looking altogether stern and collected.

“I know I said you and Razzle could stay in my car, since I’m hanging out with Keanu, but don’t have sex in there -”

“What?!”

“Don’t have sex with Razzle in my car,” Eileen practically ordered, and Charlotte nervously looked to the guy ahead of her in line. He looked back at her, between the two girls, then thankfully stepped up to the counter without a word.

“I wasn’t planning on it!”

“Well you also weren’t planning on being make out buddies after getting drunk and being the gross PDA couple at Heather’s party,” Eileen sniped back, “listen, I just want Peach to be able to sit in my car without either of your bare asses having touched any of the seats.”

“I won’t let either of our bare asses touch the seat,” Charlotte agreed, mortified.

“And no stains -”

“Eileen!” Charlotte all but screeches, right as the messages before the movie started playing.

“Eileen, the charming Mister Reeves wants a word with you,” Razzle’s voice joins them just moments before Charlotte’s pretty sure she would have expired from embarrassment, and at the mere mention of Keanu, Eileen relaxes a little. All three of them glance over to Keanu’s car, to see the man himself leaning against his windshield, cigarette idle in one hand as he watches the first of the preview trailers. As much as he makes gestures like he’s about to take a drag, the cigarette never quite makes it to his lips before he extends his arm out beside him again, like he’s going through the motions without really following through. Eileen, as if drawn to him by a spell, practically floats away.

“She’s a strange one,” he says fondly, though Charlotte kindly doesn’t point out the hypocrisy in his words, “Keanu and Alex act like she’s some aloof, inscrutable woman; weren’t sure we were talking about the same woman,” he huffed a laugh, much to Charlotte’s disbelief.

“Eileen... she is an aloof, inscrutable woman, you just happen to live with her arch nemesis, and- you’re- we’re- you know, we’re...” Charlotte gestured between herself and Razzle, flushing, as his smile widened, “and you know, I’m her best friend.”

“Guys, are you buying food or what?” The concierge asks; a tired-looking kid Charlotte recognises from Tommy’s year. She hops forward, ordering food, and waiting for it to be prepared, all while standing by Razzle’s side, his chin on her should as they watch the preview trailers. He’s behind her, warm and solid and grounding, which is exactly what she needs as her cousin’s beat-up excuse of a car screeches into the lot, almost spraying gravel thanks to his sharp turn into the first available space.

“Oh god, oh fucking hell,” Charlotte breathes, clenching her eyes tightly shut, “if you see a blonde-haired, six-foot stick-insect, who looks like he’d cheat on his girlfriend,” she starts, whole face scrunching with frustration, “and-or Nikki fucking Sixx, well, that would be about right; that feels like how tonight would go,” she lets out a long, frustrated breath, and she feels Razzle lift his chin from her shoulder right as he makes a noise of confusion.

“Tommy just arrived,” she clarified.

“Oh?”

“And we kind of got into an argument yesterday.”

“Oh.”

Charlotte’s name is called and she collects the bucket of popcorn she’d ordered for the pair of them, and Razzle picks up their drinks, heading back to the car as the movie opens.

“You wanna talk about whatever’s going on with you and that Drummer Boy?” Razzle asks as they’re settling in the back seat together. Charlotte’s detaching the front seat’s headrests with possibly too much vigour, but declines, despite the frustration written all over her face. Razzle keeps a careful hold on the drinks that he’d thought were safe to balance on the centre console as Charlotte foisted herself over the back seat to pull the blankets she’d packed from the trunk.

“You sure?” Razzle tried again, still with one hand nervously keeping the drinks in place, the other firmly holding their bucket of popcorn out of harm’s way. With a blanket securely bundled in her arms, Charlotte gives him a flat look, that quickly disappears in the face of his genuine concern.

“No, Razz,” she sighed, “I’m just mad at myself for letting this, like, fester, you know? I should have apologised sooner,” she huffs a sigh, unfurling the blanket with far more care now, draping it across both of their laps.

“You’ve a good heart, Miss Lee,” Razzle assures her, but Charlotte’s face scrunches reflexively at the nickname, having only ever associated it with Nikki Sixx’s dreadful attempts to hit on her.

“Thanks, but please don’t call me that,” Charlotte gives a strained little smile, but Razzle nods and takes it in stride, finally getting himself comfortable and sitting back against the seat, one arm draped across the back, the other holding the popcorn in his lap.

“No worries, Love; I could call you Charlie, but I always thought it sounded a bit weird coming from me,” Razzle is rambling as Charlotte settles against him, tucking herself up close to him, “had a mate back home called Charlie, but short for Charles; absolute cockhead,” he clicks his tongue as Charlotte can’t help but giggle, “I could always keep just calling you Love, but it’s not as personal, you know? And Charlotte... it’s a pretty name, but it would be like if you started calling me Nicholas, be a bit weird, don’t ya think?” He mused, and Charlotte’s eyes drifted from the opening scene of the movie, where a menacing looking knife-glove was being created, to Razzle’s face as he chattered away.

“I could keep calling you Princess Charlie,” as he says that, he looks to her, and seems a little startled to see her looking back at him, “like the other day,” his voice is softer, eyes wide, roaming her face, as if trying to capture her fond expression in his memory forever.

“You wouldn’t imagine your friend Charlie from back home a tiara?” Charlotte’s voice is amused, as is her expression, and Razzle’s eyes crease in the corners as he smiles; his eyes as so blue, so honest.

“You’d be the only Princess Charlie in my life,” he assures, giving her shoulder a squeeze where his arm is wrapped around her, and Charlotte doesn’t even think about how they’re less than a minute into the movie before she’s kissing him.

At least it gets her to stop thinking about Tommy.

Honestly, it gets her to stop thinking about everyone and everything that isn’t Razzle in this car in this moment, which is fine for her, because her life is somehow currently a stupid, complicated mess of people and emotions, and Razzle is nice to her, and a damn good kisser, and gentle, and his hands are warm -

“Miss Lee, does the Declaration of Independence mean nothing to you?” Comes shouted through the wound-up window of the car, startling Charlotte, who’s been in Razzle’s lap with his lips on her neck, so much that she jumped, smacking the back of her head into the roof of the car. Razzle reached out for her, expression concerned and lips kiss-bruised, as Charlotte held her head, wincing. Looking to the window, however, she could see Nikki Sixx pressing his face to the glass, looking altogether unsightly, with Lola a few feet behind him, drawing something in the gravel with the toe of her shoe.

Assholes!

“I’m gonna kill him,” Charlotte says with deadly calm the moment she understands the situation, though Razzle seems to have anticipated this, and has his hands on her thighs, keeping her secure in his firm grip.

“No,” Razzle says, voice equally as calm, his gaze focused on Charlotte, and not on Nikki who had put his open mouth on the window, puffed out his cheeks, and proceeded to lick the glass. Charlotte scrunches her expression for a moment, internal debate raging between her desire to stay in the car with Razzle, and her need to beat the ever-loving shit out of Nikki Sixx for being a smartass.

“I’m gonna crack the window and inch and tell him to fuck off,” Charlotte says, looking back to Razzle, who was wearing an expression of faint amusement, and his grip became a little less firm. Reaching over, she wound down the window an inch. Immediately, Nikki looked through the gap, cheek still pressed to the window as his gaze darted around the cabin of the car, no longer obscured by the window tint.

“I’m surprised you know what the Declaration of Independence is,” Charlotte said, tone icy as she moved to sit next to Razzle.

“Honestly I stole that line from Lola,” Nikki admitted, and upon hearing her name, even faintly, Lola joins them, thankfully not pressing herself to the window, instead standing close to Nikki, her hip by his, hands in her jacket pockets.

“Were they doing it?” Lola asks far too casually, almost too quiet for Charlotte and Razzle to hear, though they do, and both blush, even as Nikki pulls back, making a face.

“No,” Charlotte calls back, and Lola’s expression turns smug as she holds out her hand, making a ‘hand it over’ gesture to Nikki, only for him to begrudgingly hand over a five dollar note.

“Shoulda waited ‘til the end of the movie to ask,” Lola’s grin stretched wider, even as Charlotte tried to splutter a protest, and Razzle had to press his face against her shoulder to muffle his laugh at the whole situation.

“Why are you assholes here?” Charlotte hissed; strangely, Lola’s expression fell, and she stepped back again, adding more to her gravel drawing with her shoe, not looking at the car.

“We’re at the drive in because I’ve heard this is a good movie,” Nikki goes back to staring at them through the inch crack in the window, “and we’re here-” his tone turns proud while his smile turns sharp as he taps his nail against the glass, “because we’re trying to give Tommy and Heather privacy,” he all but sings. There’s... a lot to unpack there, however before Charlotte can process any of it, Lola grab’s Nikki by the elbow, pulling him away.

“Come on, I didn’t take a night off to talk to people I can see every day, did you bring weed or not?” She insisted, tone frustrated leading him towards the concierge stand. Something about it had Charlotte’s heart sinking, even as Razzle’s still chuckling and confused about what was going on, Charlotte’s heart was sinking.

Tommy had driven Nikki and Lola - and Heather? What? - to the drive in. Tommy and Lola had almost definitely spoken about the fight Charlotte and Tommy had had, which means Lola almost definitely knew what Charlotte had said.

“Everything okay, Princess?” Razzle had asked gently, his arm around her once more as Charlotte had buried her face in her hands.

“My whole life is fucked,” Charlotte muttered, and Razzle pulled her in close to him. Her legs bridge over his thighs, and he’s holding her close with both arms, keeping her warm and secure, and Charlotte takes a moment, then another, then a third, to take comfort.

She’s going to miss this. Going to miss him. Fuck, she can’t think like that, can’t keep reminding herself of the time limit on their friendship, the reason she’s scared to call it anything more.

Everything is fucked, but this one moment, how Razzle was holding her close, devoid of it’s context, it was pretty damn great.

a friend will help you move. a best friend will help you move bodies. but if you have to move your best friend's body, you're on your own

Charlotte goes to see Tommy on Saturday morning, but when she gets there, he’s not home.

“He’s at a movie~ with a girl~!” Athena sings, when Charlotte asks, and Charlotte, confused and concerned, looked to her aunt, Tommy’s mother, who gave a kind smile and nod of confirmation.

“He was so nervous and excited, spent a long time doing his hair just right,” she giggled fondly, pride in her voice, but Charlotte’s heart was in her throat. Had what she said somehow guilted Lola into dating her cousin? That could only end badly for both of them, oh fuck -

Except when she bursts into Leo’s at eleven, after most of the breakfast diners had vacated, and the lunch rush was still about half an hour away, Lola was standing behind the counter... with Peach? Teaching her how to fold silverware in napkins correctly?

“Do you know... do know that thing where you fold it into a swan?” Peach asks, giggling, right as one of the other kind-faced staff members approaches Charlotte and asks her how many people she’d like a table for. Lola instinctually looks to the door, and Peach catches on a moment later, and suddenly both girls behind the counter are frowning in Charlotte’s direction. Lola mutters something to Peach that’s too quiet for Charlotte to hear, and the younger redhead immediately takes the silverware they’ve already wrapped, going around and dispensing it amongst each table’s silverware holder. Peach is in uniform.

“I just...” Charlotte’s voice is soft, while her gaze is locked with Lola’s, brushing past the host who’d greeted her, “I need to talk to Lola.” The host looks over his shoulder at Lola, who looks his way for the barest moment and gives half a shrug. The kid backs off, looking past Charlotte to the street outside to see if anyone else was coming in after her, and upon seeing no-one, he heads back to the counter.

“Hey Peach,” Charlotte says as the redhead slides past her to get to another table. Peach doesn’t even look at her when she gives a flat greeting in response.

“How can I help you?” Lola’s painfully sweet customer-service voice hurts more than any sarcastic remark she could have come up with, and it’s eating Charlotte alive to know what Tommy told her, what Lola thinks Charlotte thinks of her to make her act so hostile. The way she’s smiling so widely coupled with her dead-eyed stare is unnerving.

“Keola!” It comes as a shock when a firm voice comes from the kitchen, and Lola practically jumps from her skin. Looking to the source, Charlotte sees the face of the man she’s only ever seen the back of in the kitchen, taller than anyone else in the restaurant, and he looks like Lola.

“What?” Lola hisses, surprising Charlotte, and the man looks to Charlotte, giving her a warm, friendly smile, before he answers.

“If you need to talk to,” and the man pauses, tipping his head a little as he looks to Charlotte, “Charlie?” And Charlotte, kind of confused and nervous as to how he knows her name, nods in confirmation, “you can take your break, okay? Water, fresh air, outside -” and without waiting for a confirmation, he calls the kid who had greeted Charlotte to come and take Lola’s place at the counter, as Lola begrudgingly grabs a bottle of water from beneath the counter, and storms out from behind the counter, past Charlotte to the door.

Charlotte, a little terrified, looks to the man, who gives another bright smile.

“Sorry we haven’t properly met, I’m Leo, glad to finally meet you, Charlie,” and immediately everything makes total and complete sense, and Charlotte nervously greets him, and takes off after Lola, who had disappeared down the street.

#nikki sixx #Razzle Dingley #Tommy Lee #mick mars #the dirt #motley crue #nikki sixx x oc #razzle dingley x oc #tommy lee x oc #dirtbags #the dirt imagine #the angry lizard writes

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drethanramslay · 4 years

Text

Uncover

Pairing: Ethan x MC (Leah Garcia)

Word count: 4.8K

Summary: Leah goes on a date with the Tobias Carrick, Ethan's ex-best friend. The jealousy and anger which unfolds within Ethan, leads him to confronting Leah. But in midst of their confrontation, feelings are uncovered.

Author's note: It's angst in the first half and towards the end it's smut... I have differentiated it if you aren't comfortable :)

Masterlist

Taglist: @miyakokurono @trappedinfandoms @openheart12 @sekizincimektup @junggoku @ethandaddyramsey @edith-eggs1 @ethanramseysgirl @samihatuli @loveellamae @x-kyne-x @paulfwesley @zeniamiii @binny1985 (let me know if you want to be added or removed from the tag list 😊)

Songs: Uncover by Zara Larsson and Missed you by The Weeknd

Forgive me if there are any mistake

Ethan was walking down the hallway of Leland Bloom's mansion. To be honest, he didn't even know where he was but his pride wouldn't let him go and ask for help.

Just keep going, you will eventually find the way.

That was his mantra in life. Whenever things became difficult, he would keep on pushing forward, never stopping. His mom left him? Study, work and get into a good college. Tobias and him had a fallout? Work harder, get into a better undergrad program than him and go on to join the best diagnostics team in the country. Naveen fell sick? Stuff all the feelings in a box, shut it and work hard till Naveen can stay alive.

He never stopped. He switched off his feelings and kept marching forward.

But when he met Leah, it felt like he came across a speed breaker, which forced him to stop. Forced him to breathe. Forced him to feel. Forced him to be human.

And the funny thing is that, he didn't know whether to be grateful or be terrified of this change.

Leah had a fiery spirit and a kind heart. They were so alike that it often took Ethan's breath away. They were the dream team, complementing each other. They worked like a well oiled engine, their dynamics so superior that they could complete each other's sentences.

Leah and Ethan.

Sunshine and E.

But being alike had its downfalls as well. Both of them were stubborn and had their head all the way up their asses.

He had still not forgotten the way she opened the door to her room in bra and panties. The way the golden rays illuminated her long tanned legs and the way the lace contrasted her flawless body, sent Ethan reeling through memories of them lying naked in that very bed.

And as if that wasn't enough, she stripped in front of him. The most incriminating thoughts ran through his head and he had to clench his fists to prevent himself from fucking her against the wall, having her scream his name, as her nails dug into his back. There would be red scars down his back but he would wear those scars as a damn medal.

But he was angry and furious as well. Going behind his back and calling that air head of an influencer made his blood boil. It went against the beliefs and the rules based on which, the diagnostics team was laid.

There are rules of the world that are meant to be followed. Monotony, no matter how boring it is, is the way of life. It's not always safe to shake things up. You never know what consequences arise.

On their way to the patient's mansion, they bickered like a married couple. June and Baz had a field trip seeing him being called out by Leah.

She called him a fucking diva.

All his life he had worked on building a reputation which commanded respect and awe but this girl just comes in like a wrecking ball.

Good lord, how can this woman make me pissed and turned on at the same time?! He grumbled internally as he turned the corner.

He heard Tobias's deep voice carry over."I must say Dr. Garcia, you are a vision and you take my breath away. Such a beauty-"

"Dr. Carrick if you want to flatter me, you are going about it wrong. Screw beauty, that's subjective." Leah said as she wrote in the chart, without sparing a second glance at him.

She walked past him and Ethan couldn't help but chuckle at Tobias's expression. Tobias just gave him a dark glare before following her. He was proud of his Sunshine.

But that momentary pride diminished as soon as it came.

Ethan walked to the exit and saw Tobias talking to her again, and this time, Leah was laughing and blushing.

Why that asshole-

"No I must say, not everyday do you see such bright minds as yourself."

"Thank you Tobias. You are too kind."

They were on first name basis?! When did that happen? Did I step into an alternate universe? Ethan thought as jealousy slowly burnt bright in his veins.

"So, can I buy you breakfast tomorrow? As an apology and a chance to get to know you better?" Tobias asked, his turquoise eyes shimmering in the sun.

"Dr. Garcia. We need to run couple of tests on Mr. Bloom. Time waits for no one." Ethan called out to her, cock-blocking them. He wasn't gonna lie, that was the most satisfying thing he had ever done.

Both of them glared but Ethan just held an impassive face, as if he didn't hear their small 'cute' exchange.

"Yes, Dr. Ramsey." She walked towards Ethan not before waving him goodbye.

They walked towards Helen, Baz's cute mini cooper. "Leah..." Ethan spoke, wondering how to frame his sentence without sounding like a jealous imbecile.

"Yup Dr. Ramsey?" She turned to look up at him.

"Tobias... He isn't a good man."

"God, Ethan! I think I can decide for myself." Leah rolled her eyes.

"No, you don't get it. He charms and lures woman to his bed and after he has sex, he leaves them high and dry. I don't want you to go through that pain."

She stopped and turned towards him, "Ethan I am no weak bitch. I'm not naive and he isn't my first date. I am just goofing around and I will do whatever I want because this is a free country. And, in a long time some guy has shown me attention so I'm not letting that slide-"

"Sunsh-"

"Shh! And about pain... I think I have experienced that because of you."

"Me?" He gasped out loud, his world stopping. Doesn't she know that my feelings for her are so strong that the thought of hurting her physically pains me?

"You heard me. Your constant rejection and the 'hot and cold' moments pain me so damn much. It breaks my heart that we pretend that we are together but when I ask you, you close up."

"Leah you know there are ethics-"

"Don't give me that ethics and moral crap. You yourself said that I am not a resident, I am a PEER. A colleague. Hell, Lahela and Harper have been dating and absolutely nobody has blinked an eye." She said with a steely voice.

Leah gave a sigh and Ethan could see the dark circles under her eyes. She looked so tired. "Ethan... I- I'm so exhausted. You can't reject me and prevent me from seeing a guy." With that she turned on her heels and walked away.

What just happened? Ethan thought, feeling shaken to the core.

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Leah wore a simple pencil skirt and tucked in her olive green blouse into the skirt. Her hands continued their daily chores, but her mind was so far away. When she thought about Ethan, she would get so angry that her hands would tremble.

Just who the hell does he think he is? Wasn't he the one who kept pushing her away? Wasn't he the one you said that "if I gave a damn about you, I won't be with you"?

What a damn hypocrite.

There was so much tension between them already. Ethan was giving her the cold shoulder and Leah returned it with such a punishing silent treatment that people on the entire floor could feel it.

They already had fought about the team giving more priority to rich and wealthy patients. And this entire Tobias situation made things even worse. She knew about their background, about how that his ex girlfriend, Stephanie bitch played both of them like a violin and ended up cheating on Ethan. She knew and yet she went ahead, flirting with him, repeating history.

What a hoe I am. Leah shook her head getting annoyed with herself. What has gotten over you Leah? When did you become a fucking hypocrite? Throwing yourself at other men so that you can make Ethan jealous?

Her feelings were in a flux. Sometimes, she wanted to jump his bones and other times she wanted to bash his head for being such a colossal pain in the ass. She craved him and wanted him to belong to her, but life isn't a wish granting factory.

She sighed and stared at her reflection, seeing how all the stress and workload was taking a toll on her.

I just need sleep...or some dick and then we will be golden. A girl gets tired using her own hand... Her conscience comforted her.

Picking up her bag she headed to the deli where she was supposed to meet Tobias for their so called 'breakfast' date.

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Tobias was a nice guy. He was kind, brilliant and handsome. He was a true gentleman. He held the door open for her when they entered the deli. He had an amazing sense of humor and managed to make her laugh till her sides hurt. He was intelligent and they had a great discussion on the American healthcare system.

Any other woman would have thought that he was the complete deal.

But she couldn't.

She couldn't help but compare him to Ethan. His cerulean eyes were so much darker than Ethan's stormy eyes. She couldn't help but think that she found Ethan's dark humor and sarcasm way better that the light hearted jokes. She couldn't help but think that in any discussion, Ethan would push her and challenge her rather than be a simp like Tobias who just would give in.

She couldn't help but think that absolutely no one would ever compare to Ethan.

Oh. My. God.

It is Ethan. Always has been and always will be.

And she hated herself for that. She was getting tired of waiting. Wasn't her affection enough for him? Why was there a need to complicate something that is already so simple?

Leah sighed internally. Tobias and her were walking down the driveway of the hospital. There were just talking about random things but Leah was not able to focus.

How could she when she had a mind shattering revelation that her pussy is whipped for a certain hard-ass diagnostician?

They were walking through the foyer and they stopped at the reception.

"So this is me." Leah smiled.

"Well... I enjoyed myself. " He gave a grin.

"I did too..."

"I sense a 'but'." The blue perceptive eyes noticing the hesitation.

Leah chuckled, racking her brain for a good reason. " Yeah... I'm sorry it won't work because we technically are rivals and I don't want to be seen fraternizing with the enemy."

Tobias stared at her some more, trying to see through the truth but Leah didn't flinch, even if her palms were getting sweaty.

"It's okay. I get it-" Tobias began talking but he was interrupted.

He was interrupted by Ethan's fist in his face.

Tobias crumpled to the floor like a paper doll and suddenly the entire hospital's eyes were on the three.

"Motherfucker." Ethan shook his hand because of the blow. He stretched and clenched his fingers, his knuckles an angry red.

"Ethan Jonah Ramsey! You have five seconds to explain what the hell was that?" Leah said, her eyes glimmering with anger.

"What is he doing here? Mass Kenmore is all the way downtown."

"Don't you dare tell me that thi-" Leah was interrupted by Tobias's painful groans. She helped him up and threw another glare Ethan's way.

"When you have got your head out of your ass, we will have a chat." Leah spoke.

"But sunshi- Hey don't walk away from me!" Ethan pleaded. Seeing Tobias so close to her made him so angry and he didn't realize his actions before it was too late. And the fact that she had an arm around his waist and was walking away, just made his heart heavier and cold fury seep into his veins.

Leah ignored him as she dragged Tobias to the first examination room she found. She made him sit on bed and immediately reached for a pair of gloves.

She started wiping the blood up with the help of a cotton swab, analyzing the injury with cool calculated eyes. There was a cut on his cheekbone which needed stitches.

Goddammit Ethan.

"You have blood on your shirt." Tobias pointed out and surely it was visible on the dark green blouse.

She shrugged nonchalantly as she picked up another cotton swab and dipped it in antiseptic. "Eh.. won't be the first time. I have ruined my fair share of shoes and shirts, but it's worth it."

They were silent as Leah continued being thorough in cleaning the wound. Suddenly, Tobias chuckled and Leah looked at him with one eyebrow raised.

"No...it's just funny to see Ethan so worked up. I think that's the most emotion I have seen from him."

"Really?"

"Yup. Do you know what happened between us?"

"I know what happened between the both of you..."

"And you still went out with me?" Tobias asked, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

Leah sighed. The cat was out of the bag and there was no point hiding it anymore. "It's just... Ethan can be a robot. I'm tired and I needed fresh perspective. That's why I went out with you."

"Did it help?"

"Yes. No. Maybe? It just left so many question marks in my head.." she picked up the needle and thread, getting ready to sew his face.

"Well... When Ethan walked in on his girlfriend cheating on him with me, he just turned around and walked out of the room. But when he saw me talking to you, I'm on the ground, groaning in pain. Does it help?"

Leah sighed "It kind of helps.. but I am still pissed with him. He is an asshole." She grumbled.

"Congratulations, you have feelings." He said in a sing song voice.

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It was an awful day at work and Ethan sending withering looks her way didn't really help. She avoided him for most of the day because she needed to think.

Her feelings were all over the place. On one hand she felt angry with Ethan because that hard-ass isn't ready to confess the feelings that's written all over his face. And on the other hand, she felt like she was just being a whiny bitch on heat, complaining about everything.

The internal war in her left her restless and irritated.

She unlocked the door to an empty apartment. All her roomates had driven down to Quincy for some music festival on their day off and were going to stay over for the night.

Leah would have gone with them, but a certain somebody had stormed into her room that morning and dragged her out of the comfort of her bed.

She stripped in the hallway and threw her clothes for a wash in the laundry basket. She slid on a long loose jersey and some fresh panties and headed to check the fridge for leftover lasagna Sienna had made the other day.

She was about to pop the tray in the oven when she heard the door bell ring. She saw through the peep hole and her eyes widened.

Ethan.

Maybe if I stayed quiet he would go awa-

"Sunshine, I know you are in there! I see your heels out here and your eyes through the peep hole."

Fuck Ethan and his observation skills.

Sighing she opens the door, where Ethan stood. A tense energy radiated from him and it made Leah jittery and on edge.

She crossed her arms and tapped her foot impatiently, which wasn't really a good idea because it made her bare boobs more prominent. Ethan's eyes went down at the movement.

"Eyes up here, hero. What do you want?"

Ethan blushed pink and shook his head to regain composure. "We need to talk."

"Yeah no shit."

"Will you let me in at least? Unless you want the crime scene of my murder out here." Ethan tried to joke but Leah wasn't fascinated.

She side stepped and he entered her apartment. He always liked Leah's apartment. It was homey with all the colourful pillows and the various vintage art decorating the place. From the huge glass facade you could see parts of the bay.

They stood in the kitchen, neither of them spoke. They just stood in silence. Nobody knowing what to say.

"Why did you help him?" Ethan asked, breaking the awkward silence.

"Because you punched him and he was on the floor, bleeding. I had too."

"We work in a hospital. Somebody else could have stitched him up...why did you? Do you have feelings for him?" Ethan asked as he placed his elbows on the island counter.

"Ethan.. Jealousy never suited you well." Leah said.

"Dammit sunshine! Just answer the question. Do you like him?!"

"What would you do if I liked him, huh?" Leah asked tersely.

Silence. Heavy breathing. Tension.

"Nothing right. You would just sit there, belly up and see me being whisked off by another guy."

"That's not-"

"Stop lying to yourself Ethan. You are nothing but a ball- less bastard who hides behind your so called 'beliefs' and 'rules' and what not!"

"Yes! I hide behind them because I want to see you grow and be better-"

"WHY?! Haven't I become better? Am I not growing to my potential?"

"And that's because I am not distracting you."

"Ethan, for a man who is so smart you are so dumb. Can't you see? Can't you see that you are in my thoughts?! That I am always thinking about you?! That I am always afraid that you will find someone else and leave me in the dust?!"

"Ethan it's too late because you are already a goddamn distraction."

Ethan's fists wrapped around the counter and he bent down, trying to calm his racing heart.

"God. I knew this was a bad idea. I shouldn't have come." He started heading towards the door.

"Yeah run away Ethan. Run away like you ran away when you saw Tobias having sex with your girlfriend, Stephanie. Run away like you did when Naveen was gonna die. Run away like you did to the Amazon when your feelings for me intensified. Run away like you always do." Leah was breathing heavily, angry and furious.

Ethan froze in his tracks before turned around, scoffing. "I'm not running awa-" Ethan tried reasoning.

"Oh really?! Every time I think that I am close to knowing you, you throw up your walls. Every time we have a moment, you distance yourself. The entire universe has been pushing us to be together but here you are, defying it and turning a blind eye to what we have. If that isn't running away, then I don't know what is."

"Sunshine please, don't." Ethan pleaded. He can't deal with feelings. It's too much for him.

"No. I'm tired of waiting for your affections. I'm tired of the mixed signals. I'm going to go to Tobias's house right now-"

"Are you giving me an ultimatum?" Ethan asked incredulously.

"Have you left me any choice?" She started heading to her room and Ethan followed her.

"Sunshine please don't go. I beg you. He isn't the man you deserve."

"If you can't grow a pair despite everything, then I can't help you. I'm free-"

She was interrupted when Ethan pushed her against the wall. "No. You won't be leaving this apartment. Even if it means tying you down."

"You are not my damn keepe-" Leah began but Ethan interrupted her again when he pressed his lips against hers.

They were kissing. After almost a year.

After a year of longing to touch each other.

After a year of pining over each other.

After a year of pain, heartaches and tears.

But all that pain and longing vanished when their lips collided with each other's.

Time stopped when his lips met hers, but the flutter only intensified. Leah's heart pounded in her chest as her knees got weaker. She could only focus on how hard his body felt against her small frame. But at the same time, his lips were soft and fervent against her mouth.

Ethan kept his eyes half open, sneaking a guilty peek at her every time he came back for air, just to make sure this wasn't a product of his imagination.

He wasn't sure if nature rooted for this moment or if his mind tricked him into a perfect present, but every breath he took, smelled like lavender, like spring time and for the first time since he'd known himself, he didn't feel scared anymore. He didn't feel like running anymore. If anything, the warm feeling of her lips was inviting and addicting.

They parted for breath. Both of them standing with their bodies pressed against each other, in the dim lighting of her room. "Ethan..." She said like it was a prayer.

"Oh how I've missed you sunshine." Ethan cupped her cheeks and pressed his forehead against hers.

"Me too.."

"Let's make up for the lost time, okay?"

Leah just went in her tip toes and kiss him, conveying her need for him. He hiked one of her legs up and she gasped when she felt his growing erection on her heat. Ethan bent down and placed hot, fiery kisses up her neck. When he reached the spot below her ear, he whispered is a husky voice. "Sunshine... I really, really like you. But, I am a man of needs... Please, can I fuck you?"

"I did not wait for a year for some gentle sex Ethan. Don't hold back." She purred.

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

Ethan groaned at her words and took her earlobe in his teeth, his hands roaming around her body. He pinched her nipples through the t-shirt and Leah's stomach clenched with pleasure and she threw her head against the wall, enjoying the way Ethan's hands made her feel.

Leah reached and took of his jacket and Ethan obliged. The need to feel her skin against his, fueled his moments. Taking of her t shirt, he threw it across the room.

"Hey, don't dirty my room." Leah spoke with feign anger.

Lifting her up so that her legs could wrap around his waist, he went back to kissing her lips. "I don't care, sunshine. I just want to make you feel good. I want to worship you. So let me just do my job while you focus on how to scream my name, mkay?" He whispered against her lips before going back to ravaging her mouth, not able to get enough of her taste.

How is it possible for a man to drive me mad with only words?

He lifted her and threw her unceremoniously on the bed. Leah giggled as her back hit the soft mattress. She lifted herself on to her elbows and looked at Ethan's dark stormy eyes.

"You are over dressed for this occasion, Dr. Ramsey."

Taking his shirt and jeans off, he crawled in to the bed, stalking her like a predator. He settled between her legs, bare chest pressing against each other as he kissed her hard.

Their tongues swirled and rolled against each other's, as if it was a tug of war with no clear winner. He pulled back and started placing searing hot kisses on collarbone. His hands traced her sides, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

He took her breast in his mouth and swirled his tongue around the dusky nipple. As his tongue continued to assault her nipples, Leah grew wetter and wetter.

"Ethan.. I- please.." She moaned out.

He took off her panties and nipped at her naked hip bone, eliciting a breathless moan from her. He peppered scratchy kisses on her inner thighs and lower abdomen, his beard making her skin sensitized. It felt as if all her nerves down there were on fire.

"Don't worry sunshine. I will be here all night-" he said as he parted her pussy's lips, "-eating you-"

He blew air on her dripping slit before speaking, "-fucking you-"

He lapped her juices slowly, his blazing blue eyes making contact with her dark brown orbs "-making you scream my name all night."

That being said, he threw her legs over his shoulder and buried his face into her womanhood. Leah's back arched and she let out another moan. Her sexy moans and the way her eyes fluttered shut was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. He closed his eyes enjoying the way she tasted, reminding him of how starved he had been for the last one year.

She fisted her hands through his luscious brown locks as his tongue swirled her sensitive nub. He enjoyed seeing his sunshine this way, moaning and writhing as he ate her out.

He slipped his finger into her started moving it. When he gained enough momentum he slipped a second digit and continued to finger her to oblivion. Leah was a in a daze. Her mind was only focused on the handsome man who was with her, in her bed.

She had touched herself, thinking about him. But none of those fantasies compared to the real deal.

He let out moan and it reverberated through her entire body, pushing her of the edge.

She was coming, hard and fast. Crashing and soaring at the same time. She hadn't even come down from her high when Ethan lifted her leg as far as it could go, and entered her pulsating cunt.

"Try not to ruin your manicure when you dig those nails into my back, sunshine." Ethan said as he snapped his hips and started pounding her.

The sensation was overwhelming. It was so much. There were moments like these when the pleasure and the pressure of the orgasm was so intense that she wanted him to stop.

She shouted his name and the way the tears of pleasure streamed down her face, made him make his moments rapid.

"Just like that sunshine... Scream my name." He pressed his lips against hers, greedily swallowing the moans she let out.

Burying his head in her neck, he felt his lower abdomen tighten, the need to release becoming urgent with every stroke.

"Oh go, sunshine you feel sooo good." He moaned.

His moans are now my favourite sounds... I could hear them all day. Leah thought.

"Come with me Ethan. Come with me." She said as they interlinked their fingers, holding each other's hands.

And he did. His strokes became sloppy and slower as he dumped his load into the condom he had slipped on. Leah felt his dick jerk in her and it triggered her release as well.

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

Both of them were falling together, holding on to each other as they rode the waves of euphoria, rushing through their veins. It was one of the best feelings they had experienced. All the pinning and sadness was all gone. There was only joy and the feeling of contentment in their hearts.

After their rapid heartbeats had calmed down, Ethan pulled out and got up from the bed, and stretched. Seeing the muscles of his back and abs stretch, Leah gave out a rumble of approval.

Ethan gave her a small smile and started heading towards the door but Leah caught his wrist. "Outside bad. Bed good." She said, her brain still a mess from the mind blowing orgasms.

Ethan bent down and kissed her forehead. "Sunshine, I'm just going to get some food and run a bubble bath."

"Okay."

After a couple of minutes of rummaging through cabinets, Ethan came and lifted Leah in his strong arms. Leah was smiling so much that her cheekbones hurt. She hasn't smiled like this in such a long time.

He put her down on the bathroom floor and Leah grabbed a stool where they could keep their drinks and the lasagna that he had heated.

Ethan first sunk in the hot water, the water reaching till his chest. Leah sat across him, sighing when the hot water soothed her sore muscles.

"Ethan...you are a goddamn blessing." She sighed as she picked up the plate with her food.

"I should be saying that. You changed my life."

They sat comfortably in the large bathtub, occasionally joking and eating the cheesy goodness. Leah inhaled her food, realizing just how hungry she was.

After they finished eating, Leah closed her eyes and sighed. Ethan was massaging her feet and she made it a personal mission to make him her masseur.

"Ethan?"

"Yes sunshine?"

"You won't run away from me, right?"

"No sunshine. I'm here to stay. In fact, tomorrow we both are going to go and talk to HR. Enough with the pining and the jealousy. I just want to make you mine, baby."

"Really?" Leah asked, with happiness gleaming in her chocolate brown eyes.

"Yes sunshine. I guess you are stuck with me."

Leah surged forward, water sloshing over the bathtub. She pressed her lips against Ethan's. He chuckled and kissed her back chastely and tenderly, pouring all his affections for the beautiful and intelligent woman before him.

Leah. His girlfriend. His sunshine.

And it's going to be together like that, forever and always.

aaahhhhh if only Ethan could just give in... but for now we will comfort ourselves with fan-fiction 😉

also, i want to sort out my tag list... so if you guys could dm me with which fics you want to tagged to, i would appreciate it 💗

like, comment and re-blog

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lochrannn · 3 years

Text

AU_gust: Let me play among the stars

Read on AO3

Prompt no 17: Wings

Relationships: Lila Pitts & Allison Hargreeves, minor Lila Pitts/Diego Hargreeves

Characters: Lila Pitts, Allison Hargreeves, Diego Hargreeves, Klaus Hargreeves

AN: So, you may have noticed that David Castañeda can’t wink and I’ve checked, canonically neither can Diego, so this comes up.

It’s half eleven in the morning at the Schiphol Hilton hotel bar and the staff have apparently taken pity on Lila and Allison and have not queried why they decided to drink Scotch before midday.

Lila took on her very first flight as first officer to Captain Allison Chestnut only about eleven hours ago and yet she feels like it has been a life altering experience. Or at the very least, after hundreds of hours of flight training, this trip has been the weirdest thing that has ever happened to her and in hindsight she thinks she was desperately ill prepared to contend with either members of the public or the fucking airline crew itself.

Roughly 11 hours earlier

“Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen. My name is Allison Chestnut, I’ll be your captain for our overnight flight. With us today is First Officer Lila Pitts. We’re expecting clear skies ahead and with some tail winds we are hoping to arrive in Amsterdam about thirty minutes ahead of schedule. Once we’ve fully ascended, our cruising altitude will be approximately thirty five thousand feet. I wish you a very pleasant flight on board our plane and now I’d ask you to pay close attention to our cabin crew, headed up by chief flight attendant, Klaus Hargreeves, for the safety announcement.”

Allison clicks off the com and turns down the volume of the cabin announcement, and Lila can just about make out the cheerful voice of Klaus, who she only met while they were doing the final checks of the aircraft but took an instant liking to.

Lila is extremely nervous and doing everything in her power not to show that she’s intimidated by the fact that her first flight in a position of actual authority is with one of the most senior captains in the airline.

Even the relief crew seem significantly more experienced than Lila herself. At least that’s her impression with how Allison greeted the relief first officer, Vanya Cooper. The other pilot completely slipped by her, but Lila could have sworn she heard Vanya and Allison refer to him as Five. Must be some kind of nickname.

Despite her rank, Allison spends a lot of time chatting to Lila, as they don’t have that much going on once they are cruising. The other pilot tells Lila about her kid, her husband, who is apparently a professor, about her recent trips, and how much she loves the job.

She asks Lila how she came by her accent and they talk about how Lila ended up working for an American airline after effectively fleeing the UK and from a bad break-up.

Eventually Lila decides to ask about the thing that surprised her the first time she read the flight roster. “So, do you often fly with a crew where so many of the pilots are women compared to an all male cabin crew?”

“Huh, I hadn’t even thought about that,” Allison muses, then goes on, “It’s a hell of a combination of stewards, though, some of the nuttiest people working for this airline, I don’t think I’ve ever seen them all fly together. I’m sure it’s absolute mayhem back there.”

“How d’you mean?” Lila asks.

“Well, there’s Klaus, who is very good at his job, but an awful flirt and, well, he’s garnered a bit of a reputation. Then there’s Luther. Genuinely lovely guy, everybody loves working with him, but he’s just really not very good with passengers. Diego’s the complete opposite. Passengers love him, he makes a new best friend on every flight. Most people who work with him, though, think he’s kind of an asshole. Except maybe for Klaus and Ben, they seem to get on with him. Ben is actually the only one out there who I’d say is unquestionably competent, very snarky, but charming nevertheless. I’ve not flown much with Elliott, so can’t tell you much about him and I’ve never met the other guy. Axel was it?”

Lila checks the roster, nods and says, “Yupp.”

“Well, I’m sure you’ll get plenty of opportunities to make up your own mind about these guys. I will say this though, I’ve seen them all in bigger and smaller crisis situations and they really do all step up then.”

Lila is grateful for the amount of information Allison is willing to share with her. She wonders if this is considered gossipy or if it’s just a necessary exchange of intel with a coworker. Either way, she thinks it’s really useful.

About three quarters into their flight time, Allison and Lila are relieved by Vanya and “Five” and when they step into the cabin the light is already dimmed in an attempt to get the passengers to settle down in a hope that they will sleep.

Just after herself and Allison get comfortable in their seats Klaus turns up in the aisle and says in a low voice to Allison, “Uh, skip, it seems we have a bit of a situation in coach and we were wondering if maybe someone with a bit more authority is just the thing we need to nip this in the bud.”

Allison pulls her sleep mask off her eyes, turns to glare at Klaus and then turns to Lila with a glint in her eyes that definitely juxtaposes the pleasant smile she directs at her and says, “Oh, I think this would be a great learning experience for our new first officer, don’t you think, Klaus?”

“Sure,” Lila says with all the confidence she doesn’t feel, gets up out of her seat and follows Klaus into the back section of the plane.

Back at the hotel bar

“So, was this one of the weirder things to happen on a flight, or would you consider shit like this to be normal?” Lila asks Allison in a congenial tone.

“I’ve definitely seen shit that was way more crazy than this,” a far more gruff voice than she expected, answers Lila’s question, before Diego sits down on the barstool next to her.

Lila looks over at him and he does a thing with his eyes…. if she had to describe it she’d say he’d blinked at her with... intent… is that supposed to be a wink? Lila’s almost embarrassed for him, but somehow he pulls it off. If he was any less handsome, he most definitely wouldn’t have, so Lila decides simply not to dignify that nonsense with a response.

Instead she turns around to Klaus, who’s just sat down on Allison’s other side, is pushing his hair back dramatically and drawls, “Oh Schätzchen, you’ve not seen weird until you start dealing with dead bodies at forty thousand feet above sea level.”

Lila snorts into the drink she’s just brought to her lips.

About 6 hours earlier

On their short walk Klaus gives her the cliffnotes of the issue. “This weirdo English guy keeps demanding to go into the hold because he has some apparently precious cargo to check on and we’ve been trying to keep him calm, but he’s starting to wake up the passengers around him. Diego’s talking to him now, but I don’t think they’re getting on very well.”

Up ahead Lila sees a man about Klaus’s height, with dark hair and a tight fade, leaning into one of the rows of seats and it seems like he’s talking to one of the passengers intently.

She probably shouldn’t, seeing as their coworkers, but she does notice right away that he fills his uniform out very nicely and that he’s clearly got some deliberate designer stubble going on to enhance the sharp cut of his jaw.

But Lila pulls her thoughts back to the situation at hand and the fact that she probably has never had a situation where she needed to be as professional as now.

“I don’t know what to tell you, man… Even if you have the queen of England in a crate down in the hold, we just can’t let you go down there mid flight!” the steward, who Lila assumes must be Diego, explains to a man with grey hair, a tidy Van Dyke mustache, and… Christ, how pretentious can one guy be? … a monocle, sitting in the seat by the window.

She takes a deep breath and walks up to the commotion.

“What seems to be the problem here, gentlemen?” Lila asks as calmly as possible.

Diego opens his mouth, presumably to explain what’s going on, but he’s interrupted by monocle guy, who says in a clipped accent that reminds Lila uncomfortably of one of her old headmasters, “Ah, finally someone with some seniority. I am entirely exhausted trying to explain to this imbecile that I have important scientific business to take care of in the hull of this aeroplane. Young lady, would you do me the favour of providing me with access to my work?”

Lila ignores the scowl that comes across Diego’s face and instead says, again calmly, though she’s quickly understanding why the stewards have reached the end of their patience, “First officer Pitts, please.”

“Apologies, madame!” the pushy passenger shoots back, and Lila is annoyed by his lack of sincere contrition, but at least Diego sniggered next to her as she pulled rank, so that’s something.

“I am really sorry, Sir, we just cannot let you go down there, but may I ask what’s so important, you’d risk decompression in the cabin, endangering all of your fellow passengers?” Lila uses her poshest voice, hoping that she’ll appeal to this guy that way, and she really hopes she’s not veered into parody. At least her fellow stewards wouldn’t be able to tell.

“Says he’s got a sedated monkey in a crate,” Diego drawls before the passenger can answer and earns himself a withering stare by the grey-haired man.

“It’s a chimpanzee, you nimrod!” monocle guy spits at him and Lila ignores the way Klaus’s hand lands on Diego’s shoulder as he twitches forward.

Instead she addresses the passenger again, “I’m sure all the necessary precautions were taken to keep your chimpanzee comfortable and safe on this flight and I have to urge you to calm down. There is absolutely no way we can allow for you to go into the hold and I must point out that you’re beginning to upset the other passenger.”

“This is ridiculous!” the man exclaims and then completely surprises Lila by getting up abruptly, pushing past her and Klaus and making his way swiftly along the aisle towards the front of the plane.

That’s when things go bananas, because before either herself or Klaus can respond, Diego has launched himself past them and after the monocle guy, rugby tackles him to the ground, and to Lila’s complete horror, a huge, blond man in a steward’s uniform appears at the other end of the aisle to help Diego wrestle the unruly passenger into the middle section of the plane, where they swiftly draw the curtains so the passengers near them, who’ve been roused by the commotion, can’t see what’s going on.

After two more rounds at the Schiphol Hilton hotel bar

“... so we had to get the fire crew to bring on a wheelchair so we could weekend-at-bernie’s that mofo and get his corpse off the plane before the other passengers even found out that anyone had died.” Klaus finishes his tale.

“Jesus,” Lila breathes. Allison just shrugs her shoulders.

“Right, Tom Bradey over there and I have to get going. You see, Lila, cabin crew don’t get the same amount of rest time during turnaround as the VIP do. That’s what I call the Very Important Pilots, ya know,” Klaus says and winks at her, then gives Allison a quick hug before he walks away.

The two women turn to Diego and he suddenly hesitates. Then he says, “See you around, I guess,” and taps the bar top with his fingers before he also heads away.

“Huh,” Allison says, a bit bemused, but then Lila notices that Diego wasn’t tapping just the surface of the bar but had actually shoved his cocktail napkin towards her. She picks it up and realises that he’s scribbled something on it. It reads ‘come say hi’ and then what she presumes must be a room number underneath.

“I thought you said Klaus was the one with the reputation,” Lila says, her mouth’s gone a bit dry as she turns around to Allison to show her the napkin.

“Huh! Never thought that grumpy asshole had it in him.” Allison intones almost more to herself. “You must have really impressed him,” she says to Lila then, with a bit of a laugh in her voice.

“Mmmh, but I mean, obviously I can’t go up there... right?” Lila says hesitantly, not quite sure she knows how she wants Allison to respond.

“I mean, obviously I’m a married woman, so maybe I’m the wrong person to ask, but I can only tell you it happens all the time, so I’d say go for it,” Allison offers with a shrug.

“Nah, I really shouldn’t, but I do think I'll also head to bed now. It was really nice flying with you Allison, even if things got a bit weird.” Lila says to Allison with a smile and a wave.

“Yeah, was great flying with you, too. I’m sure we’ll have many more opportunities to do so!” Allison responds as Lila starts walking away.

Then Lila stops, pivots on her heels, picks up the napkin and then whines a “shut uuuup!” at Allison when the other woman bursts out laughing.

#otp: just be gentle #lila pitts #diego hargreeves #dielila #diego x lila #diego/lila #tua #the umbrella academy #allison hargreeves #klaus hargreeves #david castañeda #lochrannn lxd au challenge

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iphoenixrising · 4 years

Note

hey we haven’t heard anything from you in a while. everything good? How’s life treating you? All my love for one of my favorite batfam writers!💗💗💗

Hi babe.

Ah sorry, I’ve been super busy at work and with kiddo :( I mean, I’m still writing when I can, but it’s just time and motivation. My project has really taken off (reads as: expanded) and most nights I’m chipping away at the massive amount of documentation for not only a Java-based framework, but an entire Platform *sob* So, it’s just such a huge amount of old articles and brainstorming sessions and meeting minutes and just ugh. I mean, it’s kind of interesting to try tracking all these things down and figuring out how they’re going to work together since the developers (from 12 to 50-ish, my God and now they want me to read markdown and do pull requests for comments and shit because this is my fucking life) are still working on the platform services, the development environment, and all these fucking tools I’ve never heard of (Kubernetes, wtf is this thing??) so I’m learning a foreign language almost tbh.

Did I mention *sigh*?

ANYWAY, also some of the things I’m working on that are like Batfam are a little more...I dunno, just things that a bit harder for me I guess, but even if I write just a sentence or two, I still count it as a win.

But like...I said something about a Sentinel / Guide Au, and even though I’m at what would be a good stopping point, I’m not very happy with it :/ So, if you’d like to see kind of what I’ve been doing, I’m going to throw down what I’ve got below the cut.

Warnings:

DickTim, Angst

Sentinel/Guide Au

After he brings B back from time, send the Dark Knight back to Gotham, he gives in to things long overdue, and trains with Shiva–

–to be an effective Guide.

Years of suppressants made it literally hell without them, trying to keep his shields up, trying to push out the telepathic traffic suffocating him the second he opens up just a crack.

Shiva, of course, had been her cheerfully murderous self, plying him with the full onslaught of a powerful Sentinel.

"You will be drawn to us from now on, Little Bird. You will want to protect us, bring us back from the abyss. If you choose to allow your powers as a Guide rein free, then you must learn to fight against the urges."

The fucked-up part is–

–she's right.

If he wants to stay in the life, wear the cape and cowl under the new name, go back to the Titans (since they've been looking for him again, fly-bys and searches for his tech), then he needs to learn how to deal with what he can do and how to deal with the instincts that come along for the ride.

It's not enough that Shiva is in the middle of hunting down a few former students ("They have made...the wrong choices."

"That's rich coming from you, you know."

"We all have a code, Little Bird, and I am no different.")

but they managed to run into a few other Sentinels along the way.

He'd like to say he'd taken his ass beating like a pro at this juncture in the vigilante game, but the reality is, they'd had to take shelter in a shitty lean-to, so he could be tragically, metaphysically hung-over.

He gives up the cowl and suit, utility belt and sundries. He goes as a wrecked teenage American boy, changing it up from the last time he trekked behind Lady Shiva and took on her adversaries. He tries not to think about Dick or Jason, Dami or Alfred, tries not to think about the confused look on B's face in his safe house, drying his hair after a long shower, trying to readjust to the current timeline.

("You aren't going back to Gotham?"

"I still have things to do."

"...there's something you aren't telling me."

"There's a lot I'm not telling you."

"Come to me when you're ready, Tim. No matter what, you're always going to be one of my Robins.")

Instead, he learns how to keep himself, and the Sentinels around him, safe and sane while trying to stay two steps ahead of the next fight, the next clue, the next "training."

In Shanghai a few months later, he knows it's time to move on when people part ways for the brightly clad superheroes coming en-masse down the packed street for him.

Well, moving on it is.

Going back to the Tower, away from the Bats and Gotham and the Rogue Gallery (thinking about facing the Joker this raw and open is fucking terrifying), was the best he was going to get considering the circumstances.

Those circumstances being the pointed twitch over Kon's eye and Bart's very intense gaze.

"You were supposed to call, asshole. The OG Batman has been back in Gotham for like months and you've just been, you know, chilling with Lady Shiva?"

Tim, who is so out of bullshit at this juncture, feels better after a hot shower and some old sweats with a Superboy t-shirt, throws up his fucking hands.

"All right, fine. I never told anyone. I...I've been on suppressants since I was a kid, just like my mom. Guides..."

"It's not that bad anymore!" Cassie tries helplessly, the first to actually reach across the table for his hand.

The instant connection makes them both gasp. It’s a shallow one, just a dip under her natural shield (he knows it’s Cissy, the Guide that’s been helping her until now, bringing her back whenever she hits a Zone, recognizes the touch of their Arrowette), just a skim over her immediate emotions this thing now untried and how utterly calm he makes her just by hands lightly placed.

"O-ooh," is soft while his fingers tighten, his eyes sharpen, his shields constructing around her, his instinct to protect.

"Not necessary," Gar chimes in, still leaning against the door between the kitchen and communal entertainment room, "we're all good in the Tower, T."

Is what shakes him out of it, hastily pulling away from Cassie's hand.

"Wow." Wonder Girl breathes out, eyes soft and half-mast, looking at him dreamily.

"Nope." Because he can already feel the headache coming on, how her hand tries to grab back at his.

“We could fight better together, Tim!”

“Do you even know how strong a Guide has to be to take care of four Sentinels?”

In one terribly creepy singular move, Bart, Kon, Gar, and Cassie give him that look.

You know, aimed at his face.

"No one," Bart cuts in, eyes wide at the exchange, of Tim's aura warm and inviting suddenly stronger, reaching out... "Tim, T. No one has to know."

The flash of fear, a residual from the tunic, makes him hedge back a subtle step back.

Kon pointedly grips him by the bicep, over his shirt while Bart moves enough that his shoulder bumps into Tim’s ribs, halting the possible escape attempt.

“Okay, okay, backing off. New powers are about a bitch, not like we all haven’t been there once or twice.” Kon soothes over, taking small steps and tugging until Tim is moving with him closer to the communal kitchen where his seat is empty at the island, and they can possibly get proof the guy actually eats.

“Amen,” Cassie throws up a hand and is already digging through the fridge until she finds–

–the last grape Zesti.

Tim’s eyes narrow dangerously on that singular can, his body moving before his brain can take over because he’s sliding on his old chair, the can cold against his fingers, too thirsty for caffeine that he can’t even.

Sure, it’s a trap, but with these guys, at least he knows it.

“I’m very not ready to do anything remotely Guide-like in the field,” the soft ca-saaaa as the can opens. “You want me to sleuth, fight, and strategize, then I’m all for it.”

Bart is just suddenly in Kon’s usual seat beside him, spinning around in tight, fast circles, “you mean you’re thinking about coming back? To the life?”

“Dude, that would be stellar.”

Tim side-eyes his besties, “it was never in the plan to-to stop.”

“Can’t blame us for assuming, you know,” Gar grins toothily, “no Red Robin for a while, my dude.”

Tim goes quiet, staring down at the can between his hands, shoulders hunched over.

“At least,” Raven’s voice is smooth and soft, comforting, “tell us why now, Tim?”

“Why now?”

“Why begin training as a Guide now?” She clarifies, sliding into the seat across from her, and the coolness of her aura, not a Sentinel, but something purely Raven puts his frayed nerves at ease, makes it easier for him to find the words.

“I turned 18,” and he can’t look at them while he admits to it, “and...and I figured out who my Sentinel is after Ra’s kicked me out the window.” (I was fine going out that way. It was fine. I was saving Wayne Enterprises from the League of Assassins, I was fighting the good fight. It shouldn’t have happened that way...why did it have to happen that way?)

“Oh,” and Cassie’s eyes get huge.

“Ra’s al Ghul is your Sentinel?!” Bart fairly screams.

“No dude,” Tim rolls his eyes and finds his can suddenly fascinating. “It’s...Dick. He’s...yeah. It’s him.”

“I didn’t hear that,” Kon hurries, standing shock-still, “I didn’t hear any of that.”

“Not him,” Bart is gritting his teeth because dammit, why couldn’t Tim have been his Guide? The universe was totally, wholly unfair.

A muscle in Tim’s jaw flexes, his nose pinkening along his upper cheekbones. He blinks watery eyes, takes a deep, deep breath to try and keep himself under control.

“Yeah,” and Tim sighs a little, the ache in his chest more acutely painful when he thinks about that moment waking up in the Cave, Dick in the Batsuit without the cape/cowl combo smiling down at him, still painfully unaware of the connection drawn tight between them.

(He doesn’t need me. He’s got Babs and Dami. His Guide and his Robin.)

Getting the absolute fuck out of the Manor had been his first order of business once he’d come to, just sprouting whatever placating bullshit Dick needed to hear to let him go without much of a fight (this time).

Finding Bruce and staying the hell out of Gotham hadn’t helped the pull he inexplicably felt, or the pressure of minds around him that had sent him to Shiva in the first damn place. His Guide abilities were overcoming the suppressants, so he was out of time...and out of options.

Still, even with the training, he occasionally has the dreams at night. Not the usual array of awful nightmares from his real life, Jason shooting him in the chest at point-blank to make sure the job gets done this time, Bruce dying right before his eyes, turning into that skeleton husk Superman brought to them thinking it was the real thing, Damian sneering at him with the katana held high, spitting out how it’s time the real Robin took his rightful place just before bringing the blade down–

No, no, it’s even worse than those.

It’s shadowy hands touching him, the warm wet of a mouth over his skin and scars, gentle voice in his ear telling him how beautiful he is, how much he’s needed, wanted, how it’s not just because of what he is or what tunic he used to wear, it’s all because he’s Tim. He doesn’t wake up when his dream self realizes it’s Dick over him, those blue eyes taking him in, pinning his wrists down to look over every inch of his naked body. He doesn’t wake up when Dick starts preparing him. He doesn’t wake up when Dick kisses him hard and desperate. He doesn’t wake up when the tears dry on his face and their bodies line up.

“Mine,” his dream Sentinel doesn’t even hesitate, “Don’t ever run from me again. Do you understand me, Tim?”

Just before Dick pushes, he wakes up, panting and hard, his instincts going crazy enough that he has to meditate to calm down.

Cassie gently wraps her hand around his shoulder, making sure they don’t have skin-to-skin contact this time. “I’m sorry,” she smiles gently at his frown, “I know you and Dick have had some...issues in the past few years.” But he can read the guilt in her face. Back when everyone thought Bruce was dead and his cape had been yanked out from under him, Dick had sent Cassie to try talking some “sense” into him. She still feels awful for jumping on the same train everyone else had been riding, the ‘that guy is suffering from depression’ instead of believing he might actually be right.

(It still stings though, doesn’t it?)

He doesn’t say anything back, just looks out one of the big windows and pulls out of her hold to take a drink of his Zesti.

“But,” Gar quickly jumps in, “you’ll stay in the Tower and fight on the team again, right? Like, no more trips with World’s Deadliest Assassins?”

Tim visibly hesitates, pausing with the can up to his mouth.

Slowly, he lowers it, his eyes taking on a cold calculation that is and isn’t like their old Rob. “Like I said, I can’t be a Guide for anyone, and I mean that. Second, I told you the truth in confidence, so I expect everyone to keep my secret. Third, I’m not anywhere near ready to go to Gotham or face the Bats, so for now, I’m fighting under the radar. If those aren’t acceptable stipulations, I’ll grab some of my clothes from storage and be out of your Tower.”

“Storage?” Kon glances around at the team, “Tim, buddy, why do you think we’d have your stuff in storage?”

“I assumed Dick would already approach you about making Damian part of the team,” his tone is absolutely empty, emotionless. “And there’s no way both of us could be here at the same time, so...” he lets them put it together from there.

The look of utter devastation on Kon’s face makes him feel slightly better.

Coming back when Cassie, Bart, and Kon have his back, just like they were closer to the end of their YJ run, makes the transition easier than it realistically should have been.

And it really might just be how low the dose of suppressants are now, or that he feels comfortable stepping into Robin’s role on the team, just with a different name, a different mask. It might just be how Bart has a tendency to hover with that hummingbird energy coming off him even when he’s seemingly standing still, maybe it’s Kon’s TTK pressing at his back even if the guy is across the room, maybe it’s how he and Cassie have leadership meetings where they just binge watch reruns of Gossip Girl and eat ice cream to bemoan their woes.

But maybe, it’s how he can feel them pulling at his shields unconsciously. Maybe it’s how he can sometimes push back enough, can skim just the edges to get impressions of angry, sad, depressed and gently erect a mental shield without delving deep without permission, can give them the space they need from their intense senses and powers.

Just another way he can be the regular guy on the team, working under the radar. So much a part of his role in the first damn place.

He doesn’t realize it becomes something normal until they take the good fight a little too close to Gotham for his liking, but the choices were few and Luthor is such an incredible ass hat that Tim actually plays it down, dresses up as CEO Tim Drake to divert their baddie while the team takes apart his latest weapon of mass destruction on the down-low.

What he absolutely doesn’t expect is to leave the lobby of one of the most posh restaurants in Metropolis–

And walk face-first into Dick Gryson’s chest.

(Technically, it’s Nightwing, but really, this doesn’t make the sitch any better.)

A hand, black with blue fingerstripes, covers his mouth, and the sound of a grapple retracting is a pending oh no that he doesn’t fight the vigilante pretty much kidnapping him off the street in broad daylight.

He can only thank God it isn’t skin-to-skin contact because his inner senses are flaring this close to the Sentinel, his Sentinel, that he has to grind his back teeth to keep himself in check. He pulls away the second they land it on solid rooftop, shoving his sleeve back to check the team’s status on his hidden wrist computer.

Mission success!

“Imagine my surprise,” Nightwing growls, hand on his shoulder to spin him around, “when I find you having lunch with someone like Lex Luthor instead of taking my damn calls, Timmy.”

Stepping out of that hold is subtle because Tim is looking over the side of the roof, adjusting his tie to try putting some distance between them. “I’m undercover. Those are the things people like us do when we’re running an Op, Nightwing.”

Those whiteouts narrow on him, a trick only Dick can really pull off effectively. “None of that tells me where the hell you’ve been for the last year since you left to find Bruce, found him, and didn’t come back.”

His back straightens, eyes looking away when the irritation and heat of anger hits him harder without the nice little cocktail of suppressants and stabilizers, makes his own shields tremble at the burning sear along the edges of his consciousness.

Instead of saying something he might come to regret, Tim sucks in a breath through his nose and works through the bolt of pain, gathers his shields around himself to keep the Sentinel from unerringly lashing out at him again.

“What the hell are you even doing here? Recon on Luthor? For which nefarious plot?”

A black and blue hand slashes the space between them, “not even important, Tim. So, how about you call your team and tell them you’ve got some Bat business because we? Need to talk.”

“I’m sorry, what now?”

“You heard me. I’ve been trying to get in contact with you for weeks.”

“I sent back your case files, asshole–”

“Not about cape and cowl shit, Tim!”

“I don’t even know what you’re talking about right now,” even though he does, he really does. He just doesn’t know why it has to happen now.

Nightwing, however, has had enough of the talk and with a whip of his arm has a bolo out and thrown, his natural speed as a Sentinel might be slower than someone like the Flash, but it still has Tim wrapped up tight faster than he can realistically dodge.

The sight of the vigilante Nightwing swinging through Metropolis with the CEO of Wayne Enterprises over one shoulder would be big news in the city if anyone had been bothered to really look up.

The hotel is nice Tim thinks while wiggling around on the bed where Dick pretty much dumped him. His fingers are already getting the bolo loose from around his upper body by the time Dick has the mask off and the Nightwing suit unzipped to flop around his waist.

The Gotham Knights t-shirt underneath is a new one since the old faded one got blown up in that little explosion in the ‘Haven a few years back.

Dick lifts and sets a chair down with a pointed clack, sitting down to watch Tim squirm his way up. He’s got the bolo loose enough to brace his palms.

“What part of I’m in the middle of an OP–”

“Don’t care,” Dick cuts him off ruthlessly, those blue eyes hard and jaw tense. “I honestly don’t give a crap about the Titans right now.”

“Well I sure as hell do thank-you very much,” Tim pulls the bolo off, tosses it across the room with an angry flick, facing his former mentor, former partner, former friend with those old feelings creeping up his throat to make the taste in his mouth coppery and bitter.

“The only thing I care about right now is that I finally caught up to you. The last time I even saw you was that swan dive–”

“I’m aware. Being kicked out of a window is pretty memorable, even for people like us,” he keeps it deadpan, keeps the anger and irritation, the feelings of shit like betrayal and it must have been so easy to throw me the fuck away.

“The point is, smart ass, you left the Cave and haven’t been back. You only answer my emails about cases and bad guys. But when I ask you to come back home, which I have, Tim, I don’t even know how many times, and I get nothing! We need you–”

“Why would I come back to Gotham for you?” Is what spills out of his mouth, something bitter and foul. “You’ve already got a fucking Robin to be your little brother, remember?”

Welp, there goes playing it cool.

But watching Dick jerk back like Tim had landed a physical blow was more satisfying than he wanted to admit.

“Are you kidding me right now? You’re still angry about that? I’ve explained to you exactly why–”

The irritation in Dick’s tone, obvious disgust when he leans back and crosses his arms over his chest is just about enough.

“You explained it just fine. You made your choice, so everyone just has to deal with it, right? Yeah, that’s really being my equal.”

Tim makes himself stay deadly calm and cold, moves his legs away from Dick’s to stand and take a few steps away from the seething Sentinel to adjust his tie and try to get his hands to quit trembling.

“I can’t believe you’re acting this childish, Tim. I’m really disappointed with you right now.”

“Glad we’re on the same page, Dick, disappointed in each other,” but it strikes him anyway in the small, sad place where he held on to the hope they could still work everything out somehow and at least go back to being friends. A small part that’s been slowly dying in degrees, and that last hit is enough to make it so absurdly painful.

(All those years in the R, fighting the good fight, being brothers, having each other’s backs, and it all ends here, doesn’t it?)

“What? I did everything I could do for you! I–”

“If that’s what you want to believe, then that’s fine. I don’t have any reasons to argue with you,” staring at his own reflection in the mirror, seeing the red start to creep over his cheeks, his eyes get overly shiny, Tim Drake straightens his spine and flexes his own shields.

He keeps himself together enough to turn on a heel and walk calmly to the door.

“Tim, just...okay, just wait. Let’s talk this out–”

He doesn’t even turn, hand already on the knob, just pulls open the door and takes a hasty step through. It’s only the first step, but Dick is still just suddenly there, trying to snatch at Tim’s wrist with a bare hand, managing the brush of fingertips over a pulse.

“Don’t leave like this,” Is the last thing Dick says before the electric shock slides up his spine, the pull to all his senses almost has him on his knees.

The touch has Tim lurching away, jerking his wrist up to cradle against his chest, the red burn of Dick’s emotions beating at his shields harder with just a simple graze.

It ends with Dick still in the doorway, braced against the frame, gaping, and Tim leaning heavily into the wall across the hall, a wince on his face.

Stupid metaphysical connections and shit.

The touch hadn’t been enough to, you know, like bond them or anything, but it’s widely believed True Pairs didn’t even have to touch to get impressions from one another.

“You asshole,” he seethes at that shocked expression.

“You feel like I betrayed you,” is low and thick, Dick’s eyes a little dazed with what he picked up through the momentary connection, “it hurt you so much when I made Dami my Robin because I didn’t even talk to you, I didn’t trust you. You think I just threw you out of my life. How could I ever do that to you...?”

If Tim was a better Guide, on a higher dose of suppressants, he would have been able to keep himself closed off enough that if they did manage to touch, he could have kept Dick out of his shields, wouldn’t have given him the ability to skim over shitty emotions.

If Tim was a better Guide, he wouldn’t have the urgent need to run.

But welp, here they are.

As the thought takes shape in his brain pan, that he’s in his civilian day-ware and can run down the hall while Dick –still half in Nightwing– is trapped in the doorway, his knees firm and his eyes dart wildly to the side, giving himself away.

And since Dick was Batman, is Nightwing, is a Sentinel, he sees the writing on the wall and absolutely refuses to let it happen. Dick shoves with his arms, darts out into the hallway, makes his suddenly weak knees work enough to shake up Tim’s plan, seizes the apparent Guide, his Guide, in a princess hold and get back before the door even starts to close.

“Put me–!”

But Dick folds his legs to sit with his back against the door, and wraps both arms around the struggling third Robin. He can hold onto Tim better than a bolo anyway.

The push at Tim’s shields is a pressure he isn’t used to dealing with, and it’s painful to fight against it rather than just let the tentative connection open. His hands curl into fists in his lap, trying to strain against the arms pinning him while concentrating on strengthening his shields.

He doesn’t realize he’s whispering, “no, no, no,” under his breath.

“Please,” Dick lays his forehead down on top of Timmy’s head, “please don’t go. Not now. I’m finally...Tim, I get it now. I swear, I get it.”

“...doesn’t matter. Too late.”

“That isn’t fair,” the smallest shift and Dick is breathing against his throat, making him shiver, “I just found out you’re...a Guide. My Guide. We haven’t even started yet. It can’t be too late if we haven’t had a beginning.” It gets worse when Dick breathes in his scent deeply, a noise coming out of his chest.

“We have had a beginning,” he bites out, fists tight, concentrating on keeping his shields strong but flexible, “we’ve had years–”

“And I’m not ready to throw all of that away.”

The pressure against his mental shields finally eases up as Dick raises his head, gives him a little shake to make him look up.

“You already did, remember?”

“I didn’t... I never threw you away. That’s not what I meant or wanted. Yes, I should have handled things better. I know that now, and I’m sorry I hurt you. I was sorry before, I just didn’t know how to tell you, how to make it better between us.”

Tim’s eyes narrow, and he doesn’t let up in case this is one of those diversionary tactics to put him in a false sense of security.

(They fight bad guys. Sometimes, they have to cheat, and he wouldn’t put it past Dick to do just that.)

“I don’t know what you think is going to happen here,” he finally tries, staring up into those blue, blue eyes (I trusted you once, and fuck if I’m going to let you do this to me again). “But whatever it is, you’re wrong. I’m not going to come back to Gotham and be your Guide. I’m not going to bond with you because the universe says I’m meant to be some kind of magical counterbalance.”

Dick’s expression crumples, his arms go a little slack.

“Tim, we’re...we’re a True–”

“I don’t give a fuck about True Pairs, Dick, not anymore. Babs has been your Guide since you both presented. She wants the job, she can damn well have it.”

It’s not a fight to push against Dick’s arms the second time and stand up out of his lap.

“You’ve loved me since the moment you put on the cape, Tim. I know you have.” When what he means is I know now.

“I loved you before that, you asshole, and you betrayed me. You don’t get that chance again.”

Turning away shouldn’t be this easy now that Dick knows the truth, but it is, and the very last parts of him still hoping, still craving, are just as easily–

–wiped out.

Dick’s eyes are watery when the door hisses and creaks upon opening, and it’s an automatic thing, reaching a hand up just expecting Tim to take it.

“Tim. Timmy, please.”

“Good-bye, Dick,” is already fading with rapidly retreating footsteps. At least he can keep some of his dignity because Dick will never know he falls the fuck apart as the elevator goes down.

Author’s notes:Here’s why I don’t like this: 1. I want to talk more about why Tim chose Shiva as the Sentinel to teach him how to be a good Guide. Like, I want to explore that dynamic more because I’ve never really had the time or space to write Shiva as we see her in Tim’s Robin run.2. I wanted to go more into the expanded senses of Sentinels and how to - hell, I dunno, make it seem to be a little closer to cannon maybe? Like point out some of Dick’s greatest escapes and be like part of that is due to his Sentinel power. 3. Dick says some shitty things, and I don’t give him any context. Like, at that point, he legit believes he did the right thing at the time, and look! Tim’s Red Robin so everyone wins! But yeah, once he got under those shields, the truth shakes him up. 4. I dunno, this au might not be for me. It doesn’t feel very different from some of my other angsty things I guess but meh. Who knows, I might fix it someday :D

#winter answers #with angst #and frustration #sentinel!au #Tim Drake #Dick Grayson #the titans!#my fics #my writing

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mosylufanfic · 4 years

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Five Times They Got Caught Off-Guard (and one time they decided to settle the question)

Hail, @youareiron-andyouarestrong, I am your Secret Santa! Merry Christmas and here's your present! The prompt “WHO KEEPS HANGING MISTLETOE EVERYWHERE WE ARE” just made me giggle, so I wrote a goofy, fluffy, slightly pratfall-y 5 Times fic. I didn't use all your ideas for majors, but I definitely enjoyed hearing them. You said smut was okay, and while this is still T, it’s pushing the upper edge by the end. I hope you enjoy it, and that you have an amazing remainder of the Christmas season!

Five Times They Got Caught Off-Guard (and one time they decided to settle the question)

Cassian was stripping meat from bone with unsettling efficiency when Jyn walked in the kitchen.

"I can't believe you want more of that dusty jerky," she said, hoisting herself up to sit on the counter. "I've still got strings in my teeth." She picked her teeth with her fingernail to demonstrate.

"I'm making soup," he said, tossing a leg bone onto a plate and a few scraps of overcooked, dried-out turkey meat into a bowl. "Might as well get some good out of this bird."

"Ah," she said, reaching down for a carrot stick from the veggie platter that Han Solo, that cheap motherfucker, had contributed to their dinner. "Good idea. Do Americans really eat one of those awful things every year?"

"I think it's usually a little tastier." He shrugged, as unfamiliar with American Thanksgiving as she was.

A big noisy holiday dinner had been Bodhi's idea. Most of them in the elderly, rambling house just off campus were too poor to make it home over the break, and about half of them were international students anyway.

Add in some of the strays that Bodhi seemed to pick up like a magnet picking up leftover paper clips, and there had been enough people, and enough dishes, to make up for the dreadful main event. Jyn rubbed her belly and wondered if there was any of Bodhi's veggie curry left. Or the elote Cassian had made. Or the chocolate silk pie that their landlords Chirrut and Baze had brought. Her mouth watered.

A yell exploded from the living room. They both paused in what they were doing and exchanged eyerolls. They'd been booed down for attempting to veto the American football game on the telly.

"Call that football," Jyn said, and bit the carrot stick in half.

"Que chafa," Cassian said, shaking his head.

She laughed. "Man United is playing, too. Night game. Probably almost done."

"Since when do you root for them?"

"Watch your mouth, asshole, I'm rooting for whoever's playing them."

He smiled to himself, looking over at her. Suddenly his smile faded.

"What?" she said. "What are you staring at?"

"How long has that been there?"

"What?" She grabbed a spoon out of the drawer and tried to use it as a mirror. "I got something in my teeth?" Fucking turkey. She'd taken a slice for politeness, even though it had required a gulp of water after every bite.

"No," he said patiently, "look up."

She craned her neck and squinted at the ceiling, almost directly above her. "That's mistletoe."

"Yes, I thought so too."

She lowered her gaze and met Cassian's, feeling her cheeks heat. "I didn't put it up."

He looked away, back at the bird he was still stripping down. "Neither did I."

Her lips tingled. She bit them, and made herself stop. "Someone getting ahead of themselves with Christmas decorations," she said airily, hopping off the counter and sliding past him.

He lifted his head. "Where are you going?"

"I - " She shrugged. "Dunno, my room or something."

He reached over and pulled a giant knife out of the knife block. "Here. Make yourself useful and chop some veggies for the soup."

"You're actually going to let me help in your kitchen?"

"It can't be insulted any worse than it was today," he said. "Leia Organa will be running the world one day, but she won't be feeding it."

"It was supposed to be her brother," she pointed out, taking the knife. "Just, his flight got cancelled and she insisted on doing it in his place. Why'd you let her?"

"Because I've never cooked a twenty-pound turkey before and I foolishly thought she had. Celery and carrots," he instructed, passing her the veggie platter. "Leave the tomato and broccoli."

"You still would have been salty if Luke had been cooking the bird," she observed, following orders.

"Yes, but we probably would have been able to eat it."

Jyn chopped up the veggies at his direction. When she was done, she leaned against the counter to watch as he performed culinary alchemy, combining seemingly random herbs and spices with the veggies and the remains of the turkey carcass.

"There," he said, covering it with water and setting the timer on his precious slow cooker. "Let it cook overnight and I'll add noodles in the morning."

She almost moaned. Turkey noodle soup while it was cold and rainy out sounded perfect. "Save some for me."

"Cooks' portion," he said and gave her a rare smile. "You make a good assistant."

"Great," she said. "A fallback in case the cybersecurity market goes to shit before I finish my thesis."

They washed the dishes they'd used, leaving them in the drying rack as the dishwasher chugged away at the dishes from dinner. It was comfortable and companionable and if Jyn thought of the mistletoe dangling above their heads about once a minute or so, she felt sure that Cassian didn't notice.

He nudged her as he was wiping his hands dry. "Want to come hang out in my room? Avoid the fake football?"

She felt the blush start somewhere in her stomach. She crossed her arms, smirking at him. "You hit on all your kitchen assistants?"

Behind his beard, his cheeks darkened. "What? I - no - I - "

Oh. Damn. Well. Fuck, this was awkward.

"I meant to watch the Cruz Azul game on my tablet," he said. "It'll be in Spanish."

She swallowed and attempted a joke. "What's the odds somebody's gonna trip over nothing, roll around like his femur is shattered, and get up five seconds later to jog off the pitch?"

"High," he said, sounding like their housemate Kay, who was going for his PhD in statistics. "Very high."

"Well, that's more like it. Yeah, all right."

Cassian rubbed his temples. He had a bitter headache and had just sent out a piteous text to the house group chat, begging for someone, anyone, to bring him a coffee.

He focused on the essay in front of him. "Alicia, I'd like to see you expand more on this point. You gloss over it somewhat. Professor Draven graded you down for that on your last essay, remember?"

The undergrad he was working with shook her mass of blond ringlets back over her shoulders and scooted her chair closer to his. Why, he couldn't imagine, because his office wasn't much bigger than a closet. "What do you suggest?" she asked.

Even though Alicia was in another section of Professor Draven's 202 class and thus had a different TA, she always came to see Cassian for help with her assignments. A lot of international students in the poli-sci department tended to find him, because of the number of languages he spoke. Alicia had been the most regular this semester, dropping by before every test and essay. Her heavy body spray, some kind of vanilla musk, filled his tiny office and intensified his headache.

He made some suggestions and she noted them down. "So what are your plans for Christmas?" she asked.

"Oh, I can't really afford to go back to Mexico for the holiday, so I'm staying here." He scanned along. "Now this conclusion is rather good, but it will only be strengthened if you expand on your earlier point."

"So you won't see your family? That's so sad, Cassi!" She put her hand on his arm. "My roommate and I are having a party after finals, before I leave for Berlin. Would you like to come?"

"Um," he said. "I - maybe we should get back to the essay."

A knock at the door interrupted him, and he looked up. Jyn leaned in. "Got a coffee," she said. "Want it?"

"Yes, please," Cassian said, reaching his hand out to take it. He took a sip. Three sugars, no cream, perfect. He smiled at her. "Do I owe you?"

"Your first-born, as agreed."

"Will you take a rain check?"

"No," she said, poker-faced, "I demand a baby right now. Make sure it's a nice plump one."

He chuckled and took another drink. His headache was already receding.

Alicia was studying them both, narrow-eyed. "Is that your girlfriend, Cassi?" she asked in German.

But it was Jyn who answered, in the same language. "Nope," she said, leaning against the doorjamb and slurping from her own takeout cup. Tea, probably, strong and sweet and milky. She was very English in that way. "Just his housemate and caffeine delivery person."

Alicia studied her for another moment, then shrugged and smiled. "Nice to meet you." She turned her back and said, "Can you tell me more about the parts in the middle that needed work?"

"Actually," Cassian said, handing her essay back, "I think we were about done."

"Oh - but -"

"I have to prepare for class," he said firmly. "Just work on those sections and it'll be an excellent final project."

"I still wanted to ask you - "

Even more firmly, he added, "I hope you have a good trip back to Berlin."

Alicia bit her heavily-glossed lip. "I'd still love to see you at my party. Here's my address." She scribbled on a piece of paper from her notebook and handed it to him. "Lots of fun, I promise!"

Cassian waited until she was gone to drop it in his trash can.

"Frequent flier?" Jyn asked, taking the seat she'd left behind.

Cassian shrugged, leaning over to crack the window. The air that rushed in was bitter-cold, but clean and fresh, chasing vanilla musk out. "She always wants a lot of help, but never really needs it. Her work is very good as is. I think she just wants reassurance." He opened a drawer and found a pack of crackers, offering her one.

Jyn took it and crunched in. "Or she's pursuing you."

He almost choked on his own cracker. "She's - I'm sorry?"

"She wants in your pants real bad."

"I'm sure she doesn't."

"I'm sure she does."

"She's just a very conscientious student, always works hard on her essays, arrives early for . . . office hours . . . " He trailed off. "Oh."

Jyn chortled into her tea. "Wake up and smell the perfume, Cassi."

He made a face. "Don't."

"Why not? Don't you like it?"

"No, but I've given up trying to correct her." He looked at his trash can, the party invitation taking on a whole different cast. "Hell."

"Not into it? She's pretty cute."

"No," he said. "And annoyed you had to tell me. I thought she just really liked international relations."

She patted his arm. "She probably does, but she's thinking of a whole different kind of relations." She looked up and froze. "And she's very determined about it, too."

"What now?" he said rather wearily.

She pointed and he looked up to see a sprig of mistletoe hanging from his ceiling. He squinted. "How did that get there?"

"Was she early today?"

"Yes, but how would she get it up there?"

"Was your desk rearranged?"

Now that he thought of it, his keyboard was a little off-center, as if it had been moved and then moved back, maybe when a certain blonde German undergrad had climbed up on his desk to hang mistletoe from his ceiling.

Jyn laughed out loud. "For a journalist, Cassian, you're not very observant, are you?"

"I blame the headache," he said, reaching up for the mistletoe. It eluded the very tips of his fingers.

"I got it," she said, stepping up onto her chair and then nudging the keyboard aside so she could climb on the desk.

"Jyn - !"

"I'm fine, I've got it," she repeated, stretching up for the mistletoe. She had to go up on her toes to get at where Alicia had taped it to the ceiling, and yank hard. "What did she use?" she grunted, "superglue?" She yanked again, and the sprig came free, knocking her off-balance. She took a step into thin air.

Cassian grabbed her waist. "Steady!"

She teetered, folded over, grabbed his shoulders, and they both froze. She shifted carefully, getting both feet firmly back onto the desk.

"M'alright," she said.

"Sure?"

"Yeah."

He became aware that his arms were wrapped around her hips and his face was practically buried in her - ah.

And he'd knocked both their chairs aside when he'd grabbed for her. They were just far enough away that he couldn't hook one with his foot and drag it over, not with their combined balances so tricky.

"I'm going to bring you down," he said. "All right?"

"Uh-huh."

He shifted his grip, stepped back, and for a moment her whole soft, curving weight slid down his front. Her boots hit the industrial carpet with a thump, and they both let go very fast.

"Thanks," she mumbled, her face pink. She snatched up her tea, which had miraculously survived the shenanigans, and backed through the door. "I'm just - I - see you at home, yeah?"

"No problem," he said, watching her go.

Jyn walked in, went directly to the couch, and faceplanted.

Some time later, she heard the door open and Cassian's footsteps on the creaky old wood floors. "Jyn?"

"Ungh."

"Are you alive?"

"No."

He sounded amused. "What killed you?"

"An all-nighter," she groaned into the cushions. "A bitch of a project. Bugs. Bugs everywhere. It's raining and I forgot my umbrella so I'm cold and wet, and I didn't eat lunch, and I may have to do my project over again because like I said, it was a bitch."

"Anything else?"

She considered. "My foot hurts."

"Well," he said. "I guess I'll just leave your deceased corpse there to rot. It'll be very smelly." He walked out again, creak-creak-creak.

"Nice," she mumbled into the cushions. "Spending too much time around Kay, that's what he's doing."

She considered getting up. Changing out of her wet clothes. Heating up some soup. She groaned again, and downgraded her expectations to getting her wet socks off.

She'd just chucked them to the floor - splat - and was attempting to burrow her chilled feet into the divide between cushions when the floors creaked again. Something thick and warm settled over her. She grunted and turned her head, rubbing her fingers against the fuzziness of the blanket. "What - "

"Just in case you might be revived," Cassian said, crouching by her head.

She smiled at hm, pulling her feet in under the blanket. They began to sting and prickle with warmth. "It is the season of miracles and all that."

His hair fell damp and soft over his forehead, and his shoulders were rain-spattered, so he must have come in just after her. He could have changed clothes or gotten his own food, but he'd elected to get her a blanket instead.

She wanted to reach out and brush her fingers over his beard. Would it be scratchy or soft? She wanted to run her hand down his throat and feel the motion of his Adam's apple as he swallowed hard.

His eyes flicked up and he frowned.

She pulled her hand to her chest, afraid she might have already been reaching out to touch him. “What?”

He pointed, and she twisted her head on the cushion to see a sprig of mistletoe hanging from the reading lamp parked almost directly above their two heads.

“What - “ she said, looking back at him.

They both realized at the same time how close their faces were, and he lurched back, almost butt-planting before staggering to his feet. “Anyway,” he said. “I’ll leave you to warm up.”

“Thanks for the blanket,” she said. “You want it back?”

He shrugged, backing away. “I have more.”

When he was gone, she pulled it over her head with a groan.

Cassian was grading papers from his section when Jyn found him in the library. "Just who I was looking for," she said, plopping down.

"Have a seat," he said absently, opening up the next essay that had been electronically turned in at the last possible second.

"Have you thought about Christmas presents yet?"

Who could think of presents when he had forty-two essays to wade through and an analysis of the effects of European colonialism on Egyptian foreign policy due in three days? But he set his stylus down and said, "No, why?"

"Because I found the perfect thing for Bodes." She called up a website on her tablet and passed it over. "Look at it. No really. Look. Couldn't you imagine Bodhi's face when he unwraps that?"

Cassian studied the bomber jacket on Jyn's screen. Buttery chocolate-colored leather with a shearling collar, warm and thick and stylish. "He would love it. But the price - "

"I know, I know. That's why I'm showing you."

"Even half the cost is a lot," he said gently. "My budget is candy canes this year and even then it'll be the cheap ones."

"I can math," she said. "And you don't have to give me anything. Look, the more of us get on board, the smaller the individual cost will be. If I blackmail Leia and sweet-talk Han and you appeal to Kay's sense of logic - oh, hey, have you got anything on Han? Because I'm not so sure about my sweet-talking skills."

"You have this all planned out, don't you?"

"Bodes has had a shit year," she said. "We can't send him back to London to see his mum and sisters, but we can give him something."

He bumped his stylus against his lower lip. “Chewie will be in no problem, so ask him first and he'll make Han do it. And go by the Philosophy department to talk to Chirrut and Baze. They're both teaching this afternoon."

She grinned at him. "Right, I'll just have to catch Chirrut after his capstone seminar but before Baze gets out of his 101."

"Good thinking." Baze was always grumpy after a section of his Intro course, mumbling under his breath about pampered babies who wouldn't know Aristotelian ethics if it bit them on the ass. "Just don't let them pay for the whole thing. I want in. And I'll see who else I can round up."

"You're the best," she said.

Two boys walked up, holding hands. "Hi, uh - "

Jyn leaned back in her chair. "Can we help you?"

"Are you guys using this table?"

"Uh, pretty obviously yeah."

"It's just that we kind of wanted to sit here."

"There's like a thousand other tables on this floor alone."

Although, Cassian reflected, none of the others were tucked away in a sunny corner behind bookshelves, private and quiet.

"I know, but - " The shorter guy blushed. "This one has the mistletoe on the window."

They both looked up. Cassian swore under his breath.

Jyn got up so fast she almost knocked her chair over. "All yours, lads," she said.

When Jyn told her about the mistletoe issue, Leia was supremely unsympathetic. "So? You happen to see some Christmas decorations sometimes, and sometimes you happen to be with Cassian when you do. It's December and we live in a society that pushes a yearly orgy of consumerism with the promise that - "

"Blah blah late stage capitalism, yes, I know, but," Jyn said. "It's getting out of hand."

Leia looked skeptical.

“I swear to you," Jyn said darkly, "that if Cassian comes along, a piece of mistletoe will materialize over our heads within twenty seconds."

"Confirmation bias," Leia said.

"Is not!"

"Is," Leia said. "Mistletoe as a decoration is ridiculously common. Look, there’s some above the door right there.” Leia gestured at the door of the Echo Base Coffee Roastery. “And no Cassian.”

“Give it time,” Jyn said.

Leia rolled her eyes. “It's not that the two of you are making it manifest, It's just that you're hyper-aware of it when you're with him." She smirked at her. "And why is that?"

"Because it's haunting us," Jyn growled.

"Because you want to kiss him so bad you're drooling," Leia said and bit into her scone.

“So what if I am,” Jyn said, and slouched in her chair.

Leia stopped mid-chew. “Wow,” she said. “You really want to if you’re not denying it. So why haven't you just laid one on him?”

“He’s so calm,” she said. “I don’t know what he wants. He’s impossible to read. What if I slap lips on him and he screams and runs?”

Leia arched a brow. “Unlikely.”

Jyn pinched the bridge of her nose. “Look, I know what to do.”

“Slap lips on him, as you so romantically put it?”

“Nope. Avoid him until Boxing Day. You Americans rip everything down at 11:30 pm Christmas Day, and it’s like the holiday never existed. No mistletoe, no problem.”

“Yes,” Leia grinned, “but then it’s all Valentine's Day, all the time.”

Jyn’s face worked and then she huffed. “I’ll see you later.”

“You know I’m riiiiight,” Leia sang into her coffee cup, and Jyn made an obscene gesture. She stomped toward the door. Before she could grab the handle, it opened to reveal Cassian, Kay on his heels.

He stopped.

She stopped.

As if they’d practiced it, they both looked up at the mistletoe at the same time.

“Right,” Jyn said, pink-faced. “See you later then. Bye.” She nodded at their other housemate. “Kay.”

“Jyn,” Kay said, and stepped around her and Cassian both, announcing, “I advise you to get out of the way and permit the door to close. The wind is very cutting today."

“Right,” Cassian said. For a moment, he and Jyn performed a sort of awkward, shuffling dance as they both tried to pass through in opposite directions. Finally, Jyn was out, Cassian was in, and the door was closed.

Through the window to the left of the door, Jyn caught Leia’s eye. She pointed upward and mouthed I told you! Didn’t I tell you?! She was gesticulating so wildly she almost ran into a pole, and Leia made a dismayed sound.

Cassian looked at her. “Are you okay?”

“Fine,” she said, watching Jyn scramble out of sight. “Just got some coffee down the wrong pipe.”

He looked doubtful, but turned back to Kay. “This is exactly what I was talking about. Now do you believe me?”

“Confirmation bias,” Kay said, surveying the offerings in the pastry case.

Leia smirked into her coffee again.

Jyn turned in her last final on the Thursday before Christmas, and slept like the dead for fourteen hours.

She wasn't the only one. The house was full of post-finals zombies. When she shuffled out of her attic room and down the stairs in sock feet and ragged sweatpants, she found Chewie, eyes hidden behind his mop of hair, wandering around the second-floor hallway with a toothbrush in his mouth. "Done with the bathroom?" she asked.

He grunted, went back and spit out his toothbrush, came out, and grunted again. Interpreting that to mean all yours, she crawled into the shower and cranked it as hot as it would go. She counted herself lucky that she'd remembered to peel off her sweatpants first.

She felt more human by the time she snapped the water off and climbed out. The sweatpants went back on, but she promised herself that she'd trade them for clean clothes up in her room. Rambling out of the bathroom, rubbing a towel over her hair, she almost crashed directly into Cassian. "Uh," she said. "Hi."

"Hi."

"Hi." Shit, she'd said that already. She slouched against the doorjamb, hoping she looked incredibly casual and not like she was feeling self-conscious about being caught by him in her rattiest clothing. "How's the grading?"

"Turned in," he said. "You? How did your final project turn out?"

"All in. It's probably shit, but it's in."

"I'm sure it's not," he said.

She shrugged. "How's everyone else holding up? Does Bodhi still gibber when you say the words high pressure system to him?" Their friend's aeronautical meteorology class had kicked his ass.

"He's downgraded to whimpers."

Somewhere off in the distance, the doorbell rang, with the four-note sequence of the Addams Family theme. (Chirrut thought it was funny.)

Jyn ignored it. Someone downstairs would get it and she didn't feel like moving. "Well, that's progress. We should go out tonight or something."

"Us?"

She choked. "Uh, yeah, all of us here in the house. Big, uh, big housemate post-finals party. Alcohol and cake and - " Debauchery, she almost said, and changed it to - "Frivolity."

"Maybe pizza to soak up the booze and sugar," he said.

"Right, yeah, that sounds good." She grinned. "The Mill?"

"That's a good choice. Han's so lazy he refuses to decorate for Christmas, so - "

"No mistletoe," she said brightly, and just like that it was all awkward between them.

She thought of Leia's skepticism that she'd be able to bury all this after Christmas. Especially with Valentine's Day coming up.

He rubbed his hand over the back of his neck and averted his eyes. "Jyn, I - " He choked on the rest of his sentence, staring at a spot just over her head.

With a certain feeling of inevitability, she followed his gaze to see a sprig of mistletoe, hanging from the light fixture.

She dropped her eyes again and met his.

He said, "I still don't know who's putting those up."

"Me neither."

"At least in here," he added.

"Right. Yeah. The Roastery and the library were probably . . . some poor worker who's getting paid minimum wage to climb on a ladder and - " She felt herself rambling and hiked up her chin. "Look, it's five days until Christmas. We don't know why these are suddenly turning up around us but it's just making it weirder and weirder, so I say we settle the question."

"The . . . question," he said carefully.

"Yeah. Let's just kiss and get it over with."

". . . That question."

The doorbell rang again, more insistently. Neither of them moved.

She crossed her arms and raised her eyebrows. "Well?"

He swallowed. She followed the motion of his Adam's apple down his throat and felt herself break out in a sweat, heat thrumming at all her pulse points. She wasn't sure when she'd decided she wanted to lick his neck, but she did, she did. Maybe some heretofore unsuspected infection of vampirism.

"Maybe we should," he said in a low rumble.

She unfolded her arms and rested her hands high up on his chest. Damn, he was tall. She tilted her head back to meet Cassian's eyes, sticking her chin out in a dare. Go on, then.

Downstairs, a babble of voices broke out. They could have been in the next zip code for all Jyn cared.

He put his hands to her waist, warm through her worn-thin Gerrera's Gym t-shirt, and leaned down. She shut her eyes just before his mouth brushed hers.

Dry, warm. Fleeting. Tendrils of agreeable heat began to curl through her belly.

Then he was gone.

She swallowed and opened her eyes again, feeling the tendrils of heat curl themselves into nothing.

Her body hummed with tension and dissatisfaction. Was that it? Was that little taste all she was getting?

Even though the light fixture and its stupid, stupid mistletoe was right above their heads, she couldn't read his expression.

She dropped her hands. "Okay. That's done, th-"

The last word was cut off by his mouth covering hers again. Her back hit the wall so hard the light fixture rattled. She ignored it, too busy winding her arms around his neck and pressing herself against him, kissing back hungrily.

This, now. This.

If the first kiss had been a taste, this was a five-course banquet. They devoured each other, tongues and teeth and lips and hands. His hands slid south of her waist, clamping on her ass and hauling her into the arc of his body. She whimpered and hooked one leg over his hip. He pressed her harder into the wall and licked into her mouth.

She gasped aloud when he left her mouth and started kissing her neck. Somehow, both her legs were locked around his hips, and his hands - Jesus, he had good hands. She felt like a volcano, all liquid heat inside and liable to go off at the slightest provocation.

"That's more like it," she said, and nipped at his ear.

"I've been wanting to do that since September," he said against her neck.

"So why didn't - ohhh," she groaned as his teeth scraped her skin.

"I'm usually very good at reading people. But I find you impossible to predict."

She grabbed his head in her hands and stared into his eyes. "Take me back to your room and fuck my brains out," she said. "How's that for a read?"

He rocked against her and demonstrated he had no problem with her proposed course of action. "Your room would be better."

"Yours is closer."

He kissed her hard. "I'm next to Kay."

"So," she mumbled into his mouth.

"He's asleep."

"So?"

"I don't intend to be quiet."

Oh. Oh damn. There went her last brain cell. "Right," she gasped. "My room it is."

Over at the Mill some hours later, Leia watched them snuggle in a booth with a little smirk.

She'd been keeping an eye on that, texting her brother with regular updates. Luke always liked hearing the gossip from her house, especially any news of a certain British-Pakistani aeronautics major. She'd always thought Cassian and Jyn had a certain similarity, under their wildly differing outer presentation. And of course they'd been thirsting for each other practically since they'd met. They made a cute couple.

The smirk turned into a blush when they started kissing and groping each other again. Okay, whenever they got over that in public, they would be a cute couple.

She turned toward the bar and the giant bowl of eggnog that Han Solo had rustled up. Call him what you like - and she did - he could pull a party together.

Bodhi was already there, pouring himself some. "Want one?"

"Absolutely," she said, leaning up next to him. "So - the mistletoe."

He ducked his head and made a sort of grunt.

"You were the one putting it all up in the house, right?" She'd noticed Bodhi decorating for the holiday as early as Thanksgiving morning.

"Yep," he said on a sigh, passing her a full glass.

She chortled and took a sip that threatened to curl her eyebrows. It was very strong. She blinked and shook her head. When her tongue had regained feeling, she pursued her line of questioning. "What, did you just get tired of watching them orbit around each other for the past few months?"

"Actually . . ." He looked down into his own glass. "It wasn't for them."

She sputtered out her next sip of eggnog. "Say again?"

He sighed. "I had a whole plan. Remember how Luke was supposed to come for Thanksgiving?"

"And his flight got cancelled, yeah."

"And then he was supposed to crash on our couch over break?"

"And then his advisor asked him to stay to work on some 'special project'?" She made a face. She wouldn't be forgiving Professor Yoda anytime soon for attempting to deprive her of her twin. "But - "

"Well, I figured if there was all this mistletoe up, it would be sort . . . of . . . romantic," he mumbled.

Her hand stopped. "Bodhi," she said, slowly and clearly. "How long have you been crushing on my brother?"

"Look, I wasn't trying to be creepy - "

"Of course you weren't," she said. "Just - how long?"

He shook his head. "It's dumb, it doesn't matter."

A voice from behind him said, "I'm interested."

Bodhi whipped around to see Luke standing behind him, face bright and hopeful. "What - you - when?"

"A few hours ago," Luke said. "I drove overnight. I was taking a nap in her room until just now." He toasted Leia with his beer. "She left me a text to come on over."

Bodhi was still goggling at him, the tips of his ears going brick-red. "But I thought - "

"I excused myself from the project. Professor Yoda's not too happy, but I don't care. So, uh, what was my sister saying? About you and mistletoe, and me?"

They wandered off, eyes only for each other, hands bumping. No need for mistletoe.

Leia laughed to herself and drank more eggnog.

"Hey, princess, look what I found!" Han leaned over the bar and dangled a sprig of mistletoe over their heads. "Pucker up."

She tossed her eggnog in his face and marched off, refusing to reflect on the not-small part of her that had been intrigued. It would take more than mistletoe to get her to lock lips with Han Solo.

FINIS

#Cassian Andor #Jyn Erso #rebelcaptain #rebelcaptainsecretsanta #fanfiction #mosylufanfic lives up to her damn name #boy it's been awhile since I used that tag #university AU #modern AU #everyone is an overworked and slightly crazed student #fluff #star wars

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in-class-daydreams · 4 years

Text

Blue Star | Oikawa x Reader | Ch. 2

cr- Pairing: Oikawa Tooru x Reader

- Word Count: ~ 2600

- Genres: Fluff, angst, Ushijima doesn’t know what a meme is

- CW: Mild swearing, and sexual implications/content

- Summary: Sometimes, (Y/N) wonders if it was hard for her father to send her away. To a new prefecture, a new home, a new school. It all just might be worth it when after becoming the (suspiciously knowledgeable) manager of the Aoba Johsai boys’ volleyball club, she meets Oikawa Tooru. Together, they do their best to exorcise demons they thought would never leave. They learn about progress, when to strive for it, and when to accept the realities that cannot be changed.

Chapters: First | Previous | Next (coming soon!)

“Then what character would Oikawa be?” Iwaizumi asked.

“I’d be Togami!”

“Shut up, you’re not hot enough to be Togami.”

Oikawa looked at (Y/N), horrified. He nudged Iwaizumi to the side, forcing the

shorter boy to share half his desk chair. Bracing his forearms on the desk, he asked, “(Y/N)-chan, that’s what you like? The nerdy asshole type is what gets you?”

“Byakuya is a fine anime boy, change my mind,” (Y/N) said, crossing her arms.

“That doesn’t answer my question!”

Iwaizumi nodded along, “Yeah, that’s fair.”

“Iwa-chan!”

“Oikawa, gives me strong Monobear vibes,” she added.

“I see it,” Iwaizumi agreed.

As the classroom filled up, (Y/N) was getting more and more uneasy. Lately, Oikawa hung around her and Iwaizumi’s desks to chat and hang out before class started. During lunch, the three of them sat in the classroom together and watched anime on (Y/N)’s phone. Ya girl had Runchykroll Premium like a bad bitch, she doesn’t go with the standard membership. She doesn’t speak broke.

Today, though, it felt like people kept looking at her. She was used to getting side-eye at her old school, but it was weird to be getting it at a new school where she hadn’t done anything to draw attention to herself. At least, as far as she knew.

She noticed some girls off to her left openly staring at her, she raised a questioning eyebrow, to which they quickly turned away and frantically whispered among themselves.

“I, uh,” (Y/N) mumbled, “I’m gonna go pee.”

“Have fun,” Iwaizumi deadpanned.

“Uh huh.”

(Y/N) got up out of her seat, uncomfortably aware of the eyes watching her every move. Even walking down the hallway, groups of students stopped their conversations to gawk at her.

When she finally made it to the bathroom, she let out a soft sigh of relief.

‘Well, that was weird,’ she thought.

She turned the sink to its coldest setting, leaning forward to splash some on her face. Behind her, she heard the bathroom door open behind her, though she thought nothing of it.

Straightening up, she saw three girls in the mirror, glaring back at her. The four of them stared at each other for a bit, waiting for the other to say something.

‘Dammit, I’m in a kdrama and I’m a poor laundry girl and these are my bullies and I’m gonna have to get with some rich asshole with a bad perm,’ (Y/N) wanted to cry in frustration.

Just one day. Couldn’t she get just one day where people minded their own business instead of getting all up in hers?

(Y/N) turned around to face the group, faking a smile and moving to shuffle past them. The bigger girl on the side shoved her backwards, making her stumble a little.

“What’s your problem?” she asked, annoyed.

“What’s your relationship with Oikawa-san?” the one on the left demanded.

‘Oh boy, I really am in a kdrama. Or a teen movie. Do I have to be the Lindsay Lohan of this movie? Wait, no, I wanna be Regina George. Wait, shit, she gets hit by a bus. Ooh, actually, maybe I do wanna be Regina George.’

“Nonexistent, I guess?” (Y/N) shrugged, “I’m gonna go.”

“Not so fast!” the one in the middle said. She seemed to be the leader, with natural-looking dyed red hair, though you could see the brown roots beginning to grow out. Trifling Bitch had a slim figure, and stood taller than (Y/N) herself.

“We’re not done talking to you,” Bad Dyejob Regina George glowered.

(Y/N) rolled her eyes. After everything that happened at her old school, her bullshit tolerance had gone up. The thing was, she was getting her first weeks of peace in a long time, and she’d be damned if she loses it because of Oikawa and his fangirls.

She pursed her lips, “Yeah, well, I’m done talking to you, so I’m gonna walk out of here, and you’re gonna make it easy for me to leave.”

Making her way towards the door, she maintained eye contact with the giantess on the right, daring her to touch her again.

“Don’t think you and Oikawa-san are on the same level just because he took the train home with you,” Annoying Beanpole called after her.

‘How would she--?’ the train is usually empty around the time she and Oikawa are on it, ‘Except…’ She remembered those two girls wearing the same uniform as her. Glances were typical, when she was with Oikawa, but in hindsight, those two were looking over much more than the average fangirl.

‘Of fucking course.’

“We’re just here to warn you that you’re not worth his time,” Completely Irrelevant finished, smiling as if she’d won.

“Whatever makes your life better, girlfriend,” (Y/N) dismissed.

Getting-On-Her-Last-Nerve put her hands on her hips, “I’m serious! Stay away from Oikawa-san, or else!”

(Y/N) rolled her eyes, “I’m shaking.”

With that, she shoved past them and stalked through the door.

No way. No way she was doing this again. Things had gotten so bad at her old school, she got shipped off into the next prefecture just so she could make it through the year. There was no way in hell that she’d go through that again so she can hang out with Oikawa.

Whenever she had the time, she could study with Wakatoshi, or she could spend time with Iwaizumi when Oikawa wasn’t around. Either way, she wasn’t about to sacrifice her peace for anyone. Not even him.

Sliding back into her seat, she caught the tail end of their conversation, “--can’t today. My grandmother has grocery shopping to do, and I always go with her.”

“You’re everyone’s dream grandson, aren’t you, Iwa-chan?” Oikawa turned to her, “Come get food with me after practice?”

After what just happened in the bathroom, (Y/N) was inclined to say no, but those big doe eyes and enthusiastic smile were making it difficult.

‘Crap. You’re gonna make me fall for you, and you won’t even feel sorry for it, will you?’

“You’re not coming, Hajime?”

The tanned boy shook his head, “Not today. My grandmother needs me to carry the groceries.”

“M’kay, we can get breakfast in the morning, if you’re free?” she offered.

The two boys in front of her gave their agreements.

“But you’ll still get food with me today, right?”

“We’re already getting breakfast in the morning, why do you--”

“But I’m craving milkshakes now,” he whined.

(Y/N) frowned, “I thought you were lactose intolerant?”

“I am, but I’m not a weak bitch. Also, ever heard of lactose pills?”

Iwaizumi facepalmed. (Y/N) sighed, wondering how she ended up associated with this type of person.

‘Oh my god, I can’t believe this boy,’ she thought. Then she remembered that little exchange in the bathroom, and how those three girls were completely happy ordering her around. Backing down, acting like she never met Oikawa, it would be easy on her, sure. She stole a glance at him and his big, dumb smile and his stupid brown curls. (Y/N) thought about how nice it was to have him and Iwaizumi as friends and how happy going home from school with Oikawa made her.

‘Fuck it. Fuck you and your mean girl stereotype and the fact that you think you can order me around. I know what my own personal hell looks like. I’ve been there. So now? I’m going to do whatever I want, whether you like it or not.’

“Alright, fine,” she sighed while Oikawa cheered in victory.

“I hope you know what you’re getting into with him,” Iwaizumi said.

(Y/N) sighed, “I hope so too.”

“Wouldn’t Hajime look good with a nose piercing?” (Y/N) asked absentmindedly.

Oikawa took a long sip of his milkshake, leaning back in the booth.

“Yes, but you know what would look even better? A lip piercing.”

(Y/N) gaped at him, “I’d be gone. That would kill me.”

“Tell me about it. I’m handsome and everything, but dear god, Iwa-chan is something else.”

“I get why you have a fanclub, but why the hell doesn’t Hajime have one? That boy is a work of art. And he uses those arms to help his grandmother! Tell me that’s not prime boyfriend material!”

“No doubt, no doubt. Maybe it’s because I’m flashier than he is? I mean, I interact with my fans. When girls come up to Iwa-chan, he just thanks them and leaves.”

“F’s in the chat.”

“F.”

Considering she had just moved to Miyagi, she didn’t know any good hang out spots. The diner Oikawa brought her to was very American 50’s style with its neon signs and leather booths. It was cute. She never saw anything like this back home. But despite how fun it was just hanging out with Oikawa like this, the conversation from earlier still lingered in (Y/N)’s mind. Curiosity having gotten the better of her, she asked him,

“Do you know a redhead girl? Tall, greenish eyes, hangs out with two other girls, one of which looks like she could snap your neck with one hand?”

“Sounds like Tachibana Akari. Why? Are they bothering you?” Oikawa asked seriously.

(Y/N) waved her hands in front of her.

“No, no, nothing like that. I just… I dunno, I was curious.”

He quirked an eyebrow, “I feel like you’re lying to me.”

“Good, because I am,” (Y/N) sighed, “Do I have to tell you?”

“I can’t make you do anything, obviously, but I’m your friend, and it’d be nice if you opened up to me about these things.”

The shorter girl gave him a dirty look, “That was weirdly honest.”

Oikawa shrugged, “Well?”

(Y/N) stirred her milkshake, “They’re just being kinda petty, is all. Your fangirls get

a little possessive, is all.”

(Y/N) tried to act like it wasn’t a big deal. The whole thing with what's-her-face

itself wasn’t, but if hanging out with Oikawa was gonna get her bullied, (Y/N) was having a hard time deciding if it was worth it.

“Yeah, they get like that sometimes. They mean well, it’s just...” he trailed off.

“Bitches be cray?” she offered. Oikawa nearly choked on his drink. His clenched fist came up towards his mouth, trying to stifle his giggles.

‘Ugh, he’s adorable. Gross.’

“Maybe a little… But they’re not gonna do anything to you. I think.”

“You think?”

“Yes, (Y/N), I think. I’m not a mind reader.”

“Whatever.” (Y/N) swatted at the hand creeping towards her fries, “It’s not a big deal. I was just curious, I guess-- Hey, fuck off, you have your own fries.”

“You got curly fries! How are you not gonna share?”

“Come near my fries again, and I will end you,” she threatened. The glare in her eyes gave Oikawa a clear warning that she was not playing around. This bitch will end you if you come near them fries.

The teens stared at each other intensely, the look in their eyes challenging the other. For Oikawa, two things could happen if he goes for the fries.

One, she ends his ass and he can have curly fries in the afterlife. (Y/N) goes to jail for his murder, but the jury finds out her motive and they say, ‘Oh yeah, that’s fair,’ and she ends up with 3 months community service instead.

Two, his prayers are answered and she soft enough for him by now and lets him take them.

Honestly, even he wasn’t going to take those odds. He settled down and picked at his own regular fries.

“This is just my opinion, but if I were you, I’d do the opposite of what they want me to do.”

“So you think I should hang out with you more?” she asked.

Oikawa waved a fry around as he spoke, “Yeah. Out of spite.” He took one of her fries while she was distracted, “But it also shows that you don’t care about what they want you to do.”

(Y/N) rolled her eyes, “That’s what you’d do cause you’re a petty bitch.”

“Yeah, but maybe petty’s the way to go.”

She stopped to think about it for a moment. When she transferred to Seijoh, she planned to let any kind of drama roll off her back, like Wakatoshi advised her to. The problem was, that just wasn’t her.

Oikawa started talking about some dumb thing Makki and Mattsun did that got them in trouble with the captain. (Y/N) hardly noticed as she watched those soft lips move around his words. Did he use a lip scrub? He totally would. That boy probably bought the latest Cactha one, preordered.

‘You know what? Maybe I will do the opposite of what they want me to do. Stay away from him? So I’ll…’

Before common sense could kick in, she shoved their food to the side. While Oikawa was busy being confused, she grabbed him by his Aoba Johsai VBC jacket and yanked him towards her.

Just inches away from him, she asked, “Yes or no?”

Oikawa wished he could have recovered from his confusion sooner, but all he could really do was nod his head yes.

She tilted her head, leaned forward, and pressed her lips to his. They were just as soft as they looked.

The tall boy sighed into the kiss. He was just about to cup her cheek before she pulled away out of breath. At the loss of her lips, Oikawa whined in displeasure.

(Y/N) stopped halfway out of her seat, “Did you just whine?”

“No?”

She smirked evilly, “Oh, this will be fun.”

Oikawa found himself being dragged by the wrist out the door. When he invited (Y/N) out, he wasn’t expecting this outcome, but damn if he wasn’t grateful.

“My parents are out of town on an overnight trip,” he said simply. The girl in front of him nodded, getting the hint.

Once inside his house, (Y/N) was on him again. She threw her arms around his neck, kissing him deeply. Long fingers dug into her hips to keep him grounded. Eventually, though, he had to pull back for air.

“So,” he panted, “Is this how you’re getting back at Tachibana?”

She tugged at the hem of his shirt, urging him to take it off, “Yep. Is that okay with you?”

“Uh, yeah,” he slipped his fingers under her shirt, “Maybe a little more than okay.”

Oikawa sat her down on the bed. As he loomed above her, (Y/N) snickered.

“Cute,” she said sarcastically.

The much bigger boy above her yelped as she slammed him down on his bed. (Y/N) straddled his hips. Her smaller hands ran over the outline of his abs.

Oikawa looked like he wanted to protest. His large hands gripped her thighs.

“Please,” he whispered.

(Y/N) put her hand to her chin and pretended to think.

“Hmm. Please what?”

He looked stressed, “Please, (Y/N)-chan?”

She smiled, “Since you asked so nicely, I’ll allow it.”

Unbuttoning her already horribly rumpled shirt, she sat against the headboard and spread her legs. Oikawa all but lunged at her, his curly brown locks disappearing under her uniform skirt. Her hands found purchase in those locks and he had to clamp her inner thighs with his strong hands to keep her from crushing his skull.

“Oikaw-- Ahhh!” she squealed when he made contact. He smirked against her center. One elegant finger looped around her panties.

“Can I take these off?” he asked.

(Y/N) glared down at him over the one hand covering her mouth.

“Yes!”

“Alright, alright,” he giggled, “Itadakimasu~”

God, he was fucking insufferable.

(E/N): I pay for Runchykroll Premium in this group, and my wallet does little cries every month. Also any Danganronpa fans here?

- Admin Kiwi-Chan

(A/N): This took so long. I sorry. Words hard. Mango dead.

- Admin Mango-Chan

Taglist: @cristaldoodleskies @br0kenskeleton

#oikawa #oikawa tooru #haikyuu oikawa #oikawa tōru #oikawa x reader #Iwaizumi Hajime #haikyuu!!#haikyu #haikyuu #ushijima #Ushijima Wakatoshi #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios

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wonderlustxennial · 3 years

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Thoughts on TFATWS Season 1, Episode 3

This shit has gotten ridiculous, so I’ve decided that I’m going to start doing reaction posts, rather than posting 20 individual observations. The following was written after my second viewing.

DISCLAIMER: Some of these are my observations, but others I didn’t notice until my favorite YouTube and Tumblr analysts pointed them out. I’ll try to drop credit where it’s due.

NOTE: There’s something I wish more people were talking about, and it’s down in the Madripoor section. If I’m reading this wrong, I would appreciate getting some help in seeing it. So, if you’re game, please check it out and let me know your thoughts. (#tw:racial bias)

[spoilers below the cut]

Walker Raiding the Flag Smasher Sanctuary

Here we get a further illustration that Walker not a defender; he’s working in the interest of fascists. Also, he’s on an invisible countdown to flip his shit. ALSO-also, dude just told the GRC cops not to give anyone “a second…to breathe.” (Marvel, what are you doing? I am not accustomed to relevance from you.) Did you notice the juxtaposition of Bucky asking the cops, “Don’t you know who he is?” to get the cops to stop harassing Sam, against Walker asking, “Do you know who I am?” while roughing up a refugee for not cooperating with him? Same asshole move, very different contexts. Anytime someone thinks it’s a good idea to say, “Do you know who I/this am/is?” they’ve already lost face.

Zemo in His Cell

Clearly, I’ll have to get better about zooming in on stuff, because this is the first time I’ve seen anyone catch that the book Zemo is reading in his prison cell is about Machiavelli AND Leonardo da Vinci; specifically, about how their friendship and exchange of ideas was highly influential on the future of the world. So, does Zemo think he’s Machiavelli or da Vinci, AND who is his “silent” partner? [I didn’t notice that, until The New Rockstars pointed it out (at 04:00 https://youtu.be/xHXhbw_EGL8) annnnnndddd now I’m going to have to read that fucking book (Fortune Is a River: Leonardo da Vinci & Niccolò Machiavelli’s Magnificent Dream to Change the Course the Florentine History by Roger D. Masters, and the bump in book sales is about to have Masters owing Marvel BIG TIME).]

Zemo Is “Royalty”

And here we have my first problem with this episode. BARONS ARE NOT ROYALTY. They’re nobles—low-ranking aristocracy. But do you know what does check out? Zemo and his butler’s thinly veiled distain at entertaining the two low-born Americans.

On the Plane

Look out, y’all: Satan just took the wheel.

THE NOTEBOOK/S

If Bucky has Steve’s notebook, what happened to the one he had in Romania? In CA:CW, I was stressing throughout that WHOLE fight and chase sequence that followed Bucky running from his apartment; not for his safety, but because I hated how vulnerable it left him to have to run without his notebook. I’m not even kidding. Because Steve picked up that notebook, right? Did he think to take it with him? Surely, an embassy or intelligence service swept Bucky’s living space afterward, so who has it now? THIS is the shit I obsess over. Who has that fucking notebook? WHO??!

TROUBLEMAN

There are at least three different things at play here. First, Sam’s enthusiasm and nostalgia for this relic made me tear up a little. He was so hopeful that Bucky would share Steve’s appreciation this classic piece of socially aware art. Second, we get more evidence that Bucky might be having a harder time adjusting to life as a white man in the 21st Century than we’re led to believe Steve did. Third, we know from Zemo’s interactions with his steward just seconds before that, when he praises Troubleman, what he’s actually doing is virtual signaling to build trust with Sam and put Bucky on the back foot. Fourth, I don’t think Sam knows for sure if Zemo appreciated it as much as it says, but he intuits enough about Zemo’s character to be aggravated at the inference they might have something in common; or, that Zemo might be manipulating him to empty rapport. (RIP, Marvin Gaye. You weren’t done.)

DAS OFFENE NEIN IN DER LIEBI

The New Rockstars win again. (Seriously, I have to start paying closer attention.) A book using mythology to explain the psychology of relationships, just before Zemo namechecks Red Skull. Oh shit, y’all.

ZEMO’S PHILOSOPHY ON SYMBOLS & POWER

The slipperiest thing about Zemo is that nearly everything he says has a kernel of truth; you just have to dig out what his true intentions are. Honestly, this is what makes him…I don’t know that he’s the most dangerous villain in the MCU, but it certainly sets him apart. He’s both educated AND smart (the latter doesn’t necessarily follow the former), and he’s particularly insightful in his ruminations on power and its potential to corrupt both the people who hold it and the people who admire them. Bucky and Sam both loved Steve deeply and believed wholeheartedly in the capacity he served as a defender; however, they have a tendency to over-romanticize both. Multiply that problem by the millions who never personally knew him and, when he’s gone, you get…fake!Cap.

More Relevance from Marvel

I read that Marvel had to do reshoots because a few of the themes in this show hit a little too close to home after the pandemic hit (also because the Black Widow movie was supposed to hit first, but again…global fuckery, so they had to shuffle a few plot points.) But also, refugees? “Displacement” camps? Hoarded resources? You don’t say?

Madripoor

Or “When Murder-Sugardaddy Goes Slumming with His Awkward Sugarbabies and Heinous Fuckery Most Foul Ensues”

AT THE CLUB

THE POWER BROKER. THE POWER BROKER. THE POWER… Soooooooo. Many. Name drops. At this point, I don’t even care to speculate on the identity of the mother-fucking Power Broker. Just surprise me already.

And here’s my (potential) second problem with this episode: The Black bartender doesn’t recognize the Black man he’s presumably seen before.

A CAVEAT TO START: I bartended very briefly in one of my many former lives. I was terrible at it. But here’s what’s relevant for the moment: when you work in the service industry, you meet a lot of fucking people, and you don’t necessarily remember them all. I would work giant events where I would serve 1,000+ people in a night, and people would complain all the time that I was carding them even though I’d served them previously. (1) I live in a state where alcohol is highly controlled, and the ABC Board is zealous about doing stake-outs to catch vendors serving to minors. The ABC Board enforcers would only see me serving someone without having carded them first—not all the times I served them previously. None of these people were EVER worth going to jail for over alcohol. Get your fucking card out—EVERY. GODDAMN. TIME. (2) Dude-man-bro, I’ll have served 1,000+ people by the end of the night. Get your fucking card out, EVERY. GODDAMN. TIME.

I’m not saying this bartender in a rogue nation should’ve carded all of his patrons; I’m only saying that when you work in the service industry, you can sometimes serve someone 20+ times before you finally recognize their face or learn their names, and the process can start all over again if they haven’t come in for a while.

Here’s the real issue with this scene, as I see it: In-group bias is an actual thing. There are disciplines of social psychologists and sociologists who specialize in studying it. We’re supposed to believe that the “Smiling Tiger” person Sam is posing as is well-known enough, both by reputation and in that establishment, that the bartender remembered his favorite drink but not Sam as an imposter? I can believe Selby, a Caucasian-European woman, didn’t recognize him on-sight. [Frankly, Whites can often (regrettably) get away with not making any effort to overcome cross-racial bias.] But what about this bartender not recognizing a notable local criminal’s face when they belong to the same racial group, when we’re led to believe he’s served him many times before? And how did he know Tiger-whatever’s favorite drink if the guy had never been in the club? Are we to infer this guy wasn’t high enough on the local criminal food chain to have merited an introduction to Selby?) Is this a plot hole, or am I reading too much into this? I just wonder, given how much this series has devoted to exploring racial relations.

Sam just saw Bucky the most vulnerable as I think he ever has. For the first time, very little was left to Sam’s imagination as to what it must’ve been like for Bucky and Isaiah to have been exploited. And Sam is so good, he can’t help but jeopardize the mission to check on the friend he can’t acknowledge to himself he’s found in Bucky. (He also has no guile, which is so very Steve of him! I’ve just loved Mackie’s performance this whole show.)

I don’t know what to think about how easily it came to Zemo to objectify and use Bucky, again—even if only to pretend.

Bucky is the MCU character I most identify with, but I don’t care to analyze the way the bar scene made me feel. I will say this much, though: THIS is how badly Bucky wants this whole thing resolved. He subjected himself willingly to the stuff of his nightmares, even if to just to perform in the world’s most dangerous live-action role play. As many people were taking pictures in the bar, it’s pretty safe to say that this charade is going to going to have long-term consequences.

People are talking about Bucky “suddenly losing his super-speed” when they had to hoof it away from the bar like it’s a lapse in characterization, but it’s not. Bucky could’ve taken off and left both Sam and Zemo sucking dirt, but he lagged to stay with them. He didn’t ghost them.

SHARON IS A BLACK-MARKET ART DEALER

Godammit. I despise the practice of the filthy rich removing fine art and cultural artifacts from the public view so they can use them for tax breaks and currency. Way to push my buttons, Marvel! And I’m so sure the National Art Gallery of Art and all other art museums worldwide will I mean WON’T appreciate Marvel calling into question the authenticity of their collections, seeing as museum funding and attendance is already anemic thanks to the pandemic. I know it’s bad priorities on my part, but that’s temporarily preempted how much I should probably sympathize with her after her abandonment.

EDIT: The person who gave Sharon the intelligence will figure she had something to do with his demise just a few hours later. I wonder if that will help/harm her ability to do business. Also: holding the barrel of that assault rifle while it fired off rounds should’ve burned her hand horribly.

ZEMO BREAKS THE INTERNET

Did anyone else think “Sprockets!” when Zemo started dancing??!

NAGEL

This is two references to Langley in one episode. For anyone not aware (especially non-Americans), “Langley” is commonly used to reference Langley, Virginia, which is where the most prominent institution is the U.S. Central Intelligence Agency (C.I.A.) headquarters. Both Hoskins and Nagel name dropped them in the same episode. Shit.

The Sugars Roll Up to Zemo’s Latvian Bolthole

Bucky’s mission just got a helluva lot more complicated. Sam might have bought the “just going for a walk” bit, but I doubt Zemo did. Bucky owes the Wakandans, but he still needs Zemo. Oh, boy.

Wrap-Up

I’m going to keep coming back to how unexpected it’s been to me that Marvel has finally started to course correct, focusing on characterizations and bringing in themes that are relevant to current events. WandaVision’s explorations of Wanda’s mental health and Monica’s forging of her new identity and TFATWS trying to engage with the audience on topics like race, violence, exploitation, and identity is hugely compelling to me. It’s a fucking TV show, but at this point in popular cultural history, I can’t think of anyone/anything else better positioned to address all of this in an entertaining and accessible way.

#entertainment #mcu #tfatws #spoilers

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the--blackdahlia · 5 years

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Nothing Else Matters (Tommy x Nikki)

Title: Nothing Else Matters

Summary: Tommy feels like he's being left in the dust, that no one wants him. So when he decides to take matters into his own hands to prove his point, a hero comes to his rescue.

Warnings: Suicide attempt, major depression, sad feels, but it does get happy!

AN: Okay, I know that slash pairings are not everyone’s cup of tea. So if you’re going to say something negative, please just keep it to yourself. I’m really not in the mood to deal with it today.

It was a long weekend. Memorial Day was coming up. Vince was taking his boat out to the lake, Mick was going to see family a couple counties over, Nikki had plans to do fuck knows what. And Tommy? He had nothing. He had honestly hoped that one of the guys would offer him a pass to come with them, like they did at Christmas, but it wasn’t a big holiday so why would they care if he sat at home. He hadn’t exactly been on speaking terms with his parents for going on a year now, and there was no one in his life to spend the long weekend with.

So when Nikki, Vince, and Mick were talking about their plans early Friday afternoon, Tommy slipped out of the studio, alone.

“What about you T-Bone?” Nikki turned to where the drummer had been. “Tommy?”

“Where’d he go?” Mick asked.

“Asshole probably has a whole line of girls he wants to get through before Monday night.” Vince laughed. Nikki just nodded, but something felt off. He looked at the studio doors before he sighed and went back to talking with the other two.

****

Tommy placed the needle on the record as he tossed his bags from the store on the couch. The grocery had been pretty well picked over, with people wanting to get things to grill out and parties and all that good, All-American shit. Tommy stood in the kitchen of his apartment, listening to the music coming from the speakers. He braced himself against the counter. Everything had been rough. Yeah, they were making music and making money, and yeah they had fans and fame, but it wasn’t the same. Tommy felt like he was stuck behind while all three of the others were moving forward. He was stuck in ‘82 while they all got to move on.

And no one cared enough to look back and make sure he was all right.

“It’s okay. I’m the only one I need.” Tommy whispered before he made his way back to the bags, uncapping the first bottle of Jack for the weekend and taking a big swig.

****

Nikki woke up Saturday morning with nothing to do. All his things he had to do were later in the evening. He was meeting some friends for a jam session, just to have some fun. He had thought about inviting Tommy, but it probably wouldn’t have been his scene, so he just left the invite in the back of his head.

He went about his day like usual and headed over to meet up with his friends. They played around, doing different songs and mashing up things just for the hell of it. It was a fun evening, and the guys had given Nikki some good tips on places to go take pictures at. So that’s what he planned to do the next day after just relaxing around the house.

But as he went home, his mind started thinking back to Tommy. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong with his best friend. He had grown more depressed with each day. Nikki was seeing less of Tommy when he looked at the younger drummer. He was morphing into something else.

He wasn’t the man that Nikki had fallen in love with.

“What am I thinking?” Nikki asked with a groan. “Tommy doesn’t love me. And I don’t love him.” He looked over at the phone, settled in its cradle on the end table. There were no messages, nothing ringing. Nikki thought about calling Tommy, asking him to grab a drink or something, but he shook his head. Tommy probably had plenty to do that didn’t involve him.

Nikki thought about going to get a shower, but something was telling him not to do it. Something was telling him to get his car keys and head over to Tommy’s place, even if it was just to be annoying.

So that’s what he did.

****

A broken bottle laid on the ground by Tommy’s stretched out legs. He was settled in to the kitchen, back up against the cabinets. Tommy stared at the glass and amber liquid, holding the fresh bottle loosely in one hand. Tommy wanted to get up, wanted to clean up the glass and get a bottle of water. He wanted to call one of the guys and see if they were busy, or just go out. But that little monster in his brain, that one that told him that he would be replaced when they found a better drummer, told him not to. It told him keep his happy ass sitting there.

‘They wouldn’t care if you were gone.’ It told him. This monster had been growing louder for the past few months, and the Jack in his system didn’t help. ‘Vince thinks you’re an ass. Mick thinks you’re annoying. And Nikki, oh boy, Nikki thinks your pathetic.’

“S-stop…” Tommy whispered, wiping at his eyes. “Stop.”

‘You know it. I’m not telling you anything you don’t know.’ The monsters voice sounded just like his. ‘You tell yourself that they’re your family, that you love them, but they will never love you. Especially him.’

“Shut up!” Tommy screamed, throwing the full bottle of Jack. Whiskey flew across the floor, leaving a train before the bottle hit the wall and shattered. “Fuck!” Tommy cried out. He pushed himself up off the floor on shaky legs. He wanted to call someone and ask for help, but instead, he ripped open the drawer that held the knives. Sliding back down to the floor, he stared at the shiny blade in his hand.

‘The only way you’ll be famous is when the headline breaks tomorrow morning.’ The voice told him. ‘People only love you when you’re dead.’

Tommy’s hands were shaking as he placed the knife against his left arm. He wondered if they would come looking for him on Tuesday, or if they would just send an ambulance or the police. Or, would it be a week, thinking he had just decided to be an ass and take a long holiday. Tommy took a deep breath to calm himself. Closing his eyes, he pressed the knife against his wrist and pulled.

****

Nikki parked in front of Tommy’s building and made his way in. They had exchanged keys awhile ago, because at the time, Tommy had some turtles and Nikki had a dog. But the girlfriend that left took the dog with her, and the turtles went to a nephew. But the keys stayed. So after knocking a couple times and not getting an answer, Nikki made his way into the house.

“T-Bone? You home?” Nikki called out. He could smell booze filling the small apartment. He heard the sound of a turntable needle scraping on the table. He looked over at the stereo system Tommy had set up. He put the needle back into the cradle, looking at the album that was on it. Shout at the Devil. Nikki smiled a little, thinking back on old times. He headed towards the kitchen.

“Tommy? You here?” Nikki asked. The smell of whiskey was stronger in this room. He looked down to see a puddle of it with broken glass. Frowning, Nikki looked up.

And that’s when he swore his heart stopped.

“TOMMY!” Nikki screamed, not even realizing he had done it until the words left his mouth. Tommy was slumped to the side, knife resting in his lax hand. His eyes were closed, and there was red, so much red. Nikki ran to him. “Tommy! Tommy come on man, wake up!” He patted Tommy’s tear stained cheeks.

His hands made their way down to Tommy’s neck. He could feel soft breaths coming from his lips and his pulse was there. Sluggish and dying, but it was there. Nikki grabbed a towel from the cabinet door and wrapped his left wrist, before throwing open drawers to find another to put around his right one. Tommy whimpered a little and opened his glazed over eyes.

“Tommy, you gotta stay with me okay?” Nikki said. “I need to get an ambulance here. You’re not allowed to go anywhere though.”

“Nik?” Tommy asked, confused. “‘M dead.”

“Hell no you’re not.” Nikki shook his head and ran to grab Tommy’s landline, dialing 911 and talking a mile a minute to the operator on the other end. When Nikki heard the sound of sirens getting close, he hung up the phone and turned his attention to Tommy. “Tommy, look at me, okay? You’re going to be okay.”

“Don’t wanna…” Tommy whispered. “Love you Nik.” With a small smirk, Tommy’s eyes rolled back in his head and he fell forward against the bassist.

“Tommy?” Nikki asked, shaking him. “T-Bone, come on man. Wake up.” Tommy’s head lulled from side to side. “Tommy!”

****

Nikki sat in the hallway of the hospital, his head in his hands as he focused on his breathing. They hadn’t let him in the ambulance with Tommy. Instead, he had sped behind it in his car, hoping for the love of god that no one would cut him off. When he got to the hospital, he gave vague messages to Vince and Mick’s answering machines, and he filled out the paperwork the best he could.

And by that, he knew Tommy’s medical history like the back of his hand, from his broken arm when he was six, to the broken nose when he was in high school, all the way up to any intolerances he had for medications. Tommy might not have thought that Nikki was listening when he told him everything, but he was.

He looked down at his hands after a bit. They were covered in dried blood. Tommy’s blood. If he hadn’t listened to his gut, if he had went to shower instead, he wouldn’t be sitting in a hospital right now. Instead, he’d be getting a phone call a couple days later saying his best friend, his Tommy, was gone.

“Nikki!” He heard Vince’s voice call out. Nikki looked up to see the singer making his way to him. “What’s going on? I just heard Tommy, hospital, and...is that blood?” Vince stared at Nikki’s hands. Nikki looked up at him, and just slowly nodded. “What the hell happened?”

“Tommy...he…” Nikki whispered. Mick came in then, looking around.

“What happened?” He asked. Nikki broke down then. That was enough for Mick and Vince. They were able to put together the pieces. They didn’t know the details, but they knew enough. So they set by the bassist and waited. Vince had fallen asleep, with his head resting on Mick’s shoulder. Nikki was up, pacing.

“Family of Tommy Lee?” A doctor said. Mick woke up Vince as Nikki turned to the doctor. He made out a few words that the doctor was telling them. Emotionally unstable, blood transfusions, things like that. But the important thing Nikki wanted to hear was if he could see the drummer soon.

They were told that only one at a time until Tommy woke up, and that they would have to follow visiting hours, but Mick and Vince each slipped the doctor a fifty to work things out so that one of them could stay. And by one of them, they knew it would be Nikki.

“Tommy,” Nikki whispered, watching the drummer. His fingers grazed over the white bandages wrapped around his arms. “I’m so sorry man. We’ll make things better though. I promise.”

****

Tommy’s body felt heavy as he started to come to. Blinking a few times, the first thing he saw was light. As his vision started to clear, he saw it was a fluorescent light. He hadn’t pictured Heaven to have office lighting. Maybe he was in Hell? He tried to sit up, but his head spun and he just laid back with a groan. He heard the sound of a chair scraping the floor and a worried face came into his view.

“Oh thank god.” Nikki whispered, cupping Tommy’s face. “I thought I lost you man.”

“Nikki?” Tommy asked, confused. “Where am I?” He cringed at his sore throat.

“Hospital.” Nikki told him. “A nurse is on her way to check you over okay.” Nikki ran a hand down his face. “You know, if you wanted to look at cute girls in nurse outfits, you could’ve just said something.” He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. Tommy just frowned, until he looked down at his wrists and it all came back to him.

Tommy didn’t talk again until he was examined and given some water. He sipped through the straw, trying to find something to stare at so he couldn’t look over and see Nikki’s disappointed eyes. He couldn’t handle that.

“I’m sorry.” Tommy finally said, so low that he wasn’t even sure if he had actually said it or not. Nikki was closer to him in an instant, gently turning his head so that his brown eyes locked with Nikki’s green ones.

“What was going through that head of yours Tommy?” Nikki asked. Tommy didn’t want to say it, but he knew he had to let it out.

“You all are moving on,” Tommy whispered. “You guys are all living lives and having a good time, and I’m stuck behind.”

“Tommy…” Nikki said softly.

“I can’t find anything that makes me feel like my happy self anymore. The closest thing is when I look at you and…” Tommy trailed off. Nikki thought back to the apartment, to right before Tommy had passed out and the paramedics had come to save the day. “I love you Nikki…” Tommy admitted.

“T-Bone.” Nikki whispered. Tommy was about to tell him he could leave, that he didn’t have to stay. But instead, Nikki cut him off by sealing his lips over Tommy’s. It wasn’t a hard kiss, but it was enough to let the other one know everything they had wanted to say for so long. Finally, they broke apart.

“When you get out of here, we’ll go and talk. Really talk.” Nikki told him. “Because I love you too Tommy. And when I thought you were gone, I was wondering how long it would take for me to be right behind you.”

“I…” Tommy just sighed. Nikki brushed his hair out of his face.

“You need your rest,” Nikki told him. “And I need to get someone over to your place to clean everything up. Unless, you’d rather come stay with me for awhile…”

“I think I’d feel safer staying with you,” Tommy told him. “If you don’t mind, that is.”

“I wouldn’t have offered if I minded.” Nikki laughed a little. He placed another gentle kiss on Tommy’s lips. “I would feel safer if you were with me.” He felt his heart do flips as he saw Tommy smile, actually smile, for the first time in a long time.

He knew Tommy had a lot of things to work out. He had his own things he had to work through, but he knew that they could do it, as long as they had each others backs.

Forever Tags: @anathewierdo @dekahg @marvel-af-imagines @feelmyroarrrr @nanie5 @imboredsueme @gemini0410 @aiaranradnay @babypink224221 @mogaruke @xxwarhawk @sandlee44 @shatteredabby @caswinchester2000 @supernaturalwincestsblog @lauravic @mrsambroserollinsacklesmgk

Motley Crue Tags: @primal-screamer @waywardprincess666

#motley crue #tommy lee #nikki sixx #terror twins #tommy lee x nikki sixx #nikki sixx x tommy lee #fanfiction #tw: suicide

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dukeofriven · 5 years

Text

Fun Jade/Rose Facts (Well... facts.)

Note: These facts are divided between “In-Comic” (Everything from Page 1 of Homestuck (A young man stands in his bedroom...) to page��8128 (The End) and “The Credits” (Pages 8129-8130). If I update this after the Epilogue, we’ll... cross that bridge when we get there.

In-Comic Jade/Rose Facts

Jade and Rose have only five conversations in the entire comic.

1 2 3 4 (2 pages) 5 (2 pages)

Conversation #4 is repeated. We see it first from Jade’s POV, then from Rose’s.

The number of conversations goes up to six if you count GrimBark Jade saying “Bark” and “Hey guys long time no see” to the assembled group in Act 6 Intermission 5 - but since Rose says nothing back, I am not counting this as a conversation.

You may do so if you wish.

After removing dialogue tags (like “TT”) and Pesterlog archival data (“ceased pestering” etc), their shortest conversation is their fourth at 80 words long.

Their longest one-on-one conversation is their third at 571 words long.

Their longest conversation is their fifth. It features Doc Scratch, and runs some 1,170 words long.

All told, about 2,711 words are exchanged in one-another’s chat windows. Discounting Doc Scratch’s intrusion into their final conversation, they speak 2324 words to one-another.

If you are counting the Grimbark conversation, add another 7 words.

6 if ‘BARK” is more of a sound.

By contrast, this single one-page Fruity Rumpus Asshole Factory exchange between Dave, John, and Karkat runs some 2188 words - over a thousand words longer than any single Jade/Rose conversation, and only some 136 less than their entire conversation history.

Rose never speaks a single word to Jade aloud.

Rose never uses Jade’s name in conversation with her.

Jade and Rose "share the screen” 15 times during the comic. (I have excluded both Caliborn’s ‘Homosuck’ cutouts and his Plasticine maquette because A) they are facsimiles of an event recited by an even-more unreliable narrator than usual, not the real thing, and B) Seriously: Fuck That Guy)

One of these on-camera appearances was ret-conned out of existence.

In only seven of these appearances are both Jade and Rose conscious.

Here are all their on-camera appearances:

Act 6 Intermission 5

(Don’t think I ever noticed Gamzee hiding in the background before.) Act 6 Act 5

Act 7

(It’s tough to tell but I think the above photo is the closest Rose and Jade ever get in the comic.)

Rose never speaks to Jade again after their fifth conversation in Act 5 Act 2.

Rose and Jade do not converse for the entirety of Act 6.

Rose and Jade do not converse for the entirety of Act 7

Going off “page math” alone. here are some fun facts about Jade and Rose conversations:

5% - or about 1/20th of the comic - passes before Rose and Jade speak.

Rose and Jade spend 39% - 39/100ths - of the comic “in-touch” with one another.

They spent the remaining 56% of the comic not talking.

Rose and Jade spend approximately 61% of Homestuck not in-contact, not in-touch with one another.

Counting the repeat conversation and a single still panel, there are only 9 pages in Homestuck where Rose and Jade are talking.

0.11072834645669291% of Homestuck - 5,536,417,323/5,000,000,000,000ths - (5.5 milliard billionths of the comic - 5.5 billion trillionths for our American readers. ~11/10000) is devoted to Rose and Jade’s “on-screen” relationship. And that’s counting a repeat conversation and a silent panel.

Rose and Jade “share” the screen - either while message-conversing or literally “in the same shot” in 20 pages of Homestuck.

That’s 0.24606299212598426% of Homestuck. About 24,606,299,213/10,000,000,000,000 (~1/400ths) of the comic.

Homestuck contains about 817,612 words.

Jade-Rose conversations all together comprise some 2779 words, taking into account that the fourth conversation is repeated twice.

Jade-Rose conversations comprise approximately 0.33989227163984875% of Homestuck’s text.

That’s 8497306791/2500000000000ths

Credits Jade/Rose Facts

There is no canonical evidence that Jade attended Rose’s wedding.

Seriously - she’s not there in the pictures. When all the kids are lifting the bride and bride up on chairs as part of the “thing done during the horah that isn’t actually part of the horah guess who just did a deep dive into the history of the horah did you know it’s from Greece via Romania and only dates back to 1930 as a traditional pan-Jewish custom it’s kind of like clan tartans in that it’s a cultural touchstone that feels ancient but isn’t” she’s... absent. Jake is in the picture twice once at the top, once in trickster mode on the bottom. Jade Harley: had better things to do than go to Rose’s wedding?

Jade and Rose are the only two kids to never be shown with Trickster modes.

This following photograph is the only conversation Rose and Jade ever have in-person in all the Homestuck franchise. It is their only moment of contact after Act 5 Act 2. We have no demonstrative way of proving that they ever conversed in-person before John’s 18th birthday party on Earth-C:

This is their only verbal conversation, and their only conversation to go textually unrecorded.

We have no way of proving that this is not Rose and Jade burying the hatchet after a... four year feud after Jade clumsily let Rose know her mother had been brutally murdered.

This is 1.3297872340425532% of the entire credits video.

That’s 664893617/50000000000ths of the entire credits - because the only good joke is a cumbersome running joke.

BONUS: Snapchat Jade/Rose Facts

Welcome to the land of dubious canonicity. [Update 23/04/19: I’d like to note that I used this phrase before the Epilogues hit. Also, these are now officially outside of even the broader Homestuck meta-canon as far as anyone can tell. Radio silence on this remains aggravating. What were these and what did Andrew Hussie actually want?]

Do you remember the Snapchats? They didn’t stop being a thing or anything.

... well, they did, actually. Who knows if they’re canon any more. [Again: they are not]

That’s why this section is a bonus - its demi-canonical!

Man, remember when we were all excited that the future of Homestuck was going to be snapchats?

We were going to get so many snapped chats.

So many you guys.

Sigh.

Please no walking on the grass. That grass is only semi-canon. We are liable for damages with the rental company.

Jade and Rose appear together in one (1) snapchat photo:

I’m pretty sure this is the only Beta kids group shot in the entirety of Homestuck!

This Jade/Rose interaction comprises 1.5151515151515151% of all the snapchats.

That’s 946969697/62500000000ths.

That’s really all there is to say on the matter.

FAQ Will you cover the Epilogue?

I will, of course, update this most important resource if/when the Epilogue gives us any more Jade/Rose content. Statistically speaking, it won’t take up much space. You missed interaction [X]! Can I tell you about it?

Yes please! Thanks for letting me know, I will add it right away and update my maths.

You missed interaction [Caliborn’s Master Plan]! Can I -? You may not. This seems elaborate and kind of pointless - why would you do this? Because Jade/Rose is a ship and talking about the Jade/Rose friendship is a thing and I... uh... I didn’t get it. But now having done all this work I... ... I still don’t get it. I always questioned Jade/Rose because I said to myself “they don’t really interact much,” and now that I’ve sat down and run the numbers they really don’t interact much. Now if you’re wondering “did you run though every single conversation looking for the times Jade mentioned Rose or Rose mentioned Jade” the answer would be “ha ha ha that would be crazy of course I did.” I am very tired. And... they don’t talk about each-other much. I mean ‘actually’ talk - I’m not counting all the “hey do you know what Rose/Jade is doing” questions asked between the kids or the trolls (though there’s not that many, really) - I’m talking about actual conversations, like when John talks about how he feels about having to marry Rose according to the Shipping Chart or Karkat mutters that Jade maybe kind of meant something to him once. Jade has this to say about Rose - talking to, of all people, Eridan: GG: rose? GG: i do not have a score to settle with rose!!! GG: why would you think that? CA: oh CA: wwell fuck CA: suppose i wwas guessin it wwas natural to presume somesuch relation like that betwween the twwo a you GG: i think you are projecting your own attitude on to others GG: just because you tend to hate and/or hit on everyone you meet doesnt mean everyone else is that way GG: rose just sent me a code for a crystal ball, shes my friend and is basically the best! It’s a very Harleybert sentiment. And sadly it doesn’t add up to anything. At the very least, Rose doesn’t think that much about Jade. Take it from me: a guy who literally went through every conversation Rose and Jade ever had with and about each other: Rose doesn’t think much about Jade. When Jade shows up sleeping at the end of act six lots of people talk about her: Rose’s only comment is to make a crack about Jade ending end-game ships when she wakes up, and also to note that there was Bird Dave and Dog Jade and Cat Rose but No [Animal] Egbert. That’s it. The most Rose ever has to say is the “she has the karma” conversation all the way back in Act 3 - and it’s still really about Dave. When GrimbarkJade shows up on LOLAR... Rose makes no comment whatsoever. Jade does not take the time to go see Rose when she wakes up in the ret-con timeline. Jade discusses Rose with John only in the context of John and his shipping chart destiny. Rose never seems to have anything to say about Jade to Dave or John. If these kids had had a normal sibling existence in the same high school and John had been hit by a car Jade would have remained friends with Dave but she and Rose would be revealed to not be all that close - their common point of friendship is John, not one-another. Rose talks about so much shit - but not about Jade. Jade might say Rose is “the best” but it’s Harley hyperbole more than anything: she didn’t even get Rose a birthday present because she says Rose is hard to shop for! Rose LaLonde is hard to shop for? What?

There. It’s an Emily the Strange t-shirt with Charles Dutton’s head. it took me ten seconds to come up with it you are welcome Jade. You want to ship Rose/Jade? Fuck yeah, man - go for it! You want to write an eighty thousand word fan-fiction on Rose and Jade: BFF Treasure Hunter Essayists? Sounds fucking rad please write that. You want to say that, canonically, Jade and Rose are great friends? I’m going to have to disagree. Homestuck is a story about four friends - it is not a story about four equally friendly friends. Maybe it was meant to be: not going to lie, I like Act 6 and the ending of Homestuck a lot but even I concede that Jade gets shafted in the “having shit to do” department - the fact that she sits out the big Giant Talky Session at the end of the comic? Weird as shit. If she was up and awake and had any kind of conversation with Rose where they seemed friendly and in-touch I would change my opinion in a heartbeat: I’m not some crank who hates Jade and Rose being best of friends because I’m a weirdo. I mean I am a weirdo but for other reasons, not this. No, I just don’t agree with the idea because it’s not supported by the text. Five conversations in seven acts? Less than 3,000 words exchanged in a document running into the hundred of thousands - and some of that repeat, and some of that the words of a giant cueball tool? If Andrew Hussie wanted us to believe that Jade Harley and Rose LaLonde are particularly close friends, he put no sign of that into the text. If I missed something please - tell me. Argue it with me, even, if you disagree with my assessment - or my math.I am not great at math. Regardless - reach out. We should talk about this more. Edit: Updated 10:38 EST April 12, 2019: corrected multiple typos, changed “dismissed” to “questioning,” clarified point about the horah to sound less weird.

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amandaoftherosemire · 5 years

Text

Typical: Storytime

Storytime!

This is just a rant about something that happened in my real life, but because I live to tell stories it ended up being kind of long for context purposes. I just used the keep reading feature because it was a bit longer and I don’t want to blow up anybody’s dashboard just because I don’t know how to shut up.

I'm trying to figure how and where to start when I explain my experience of misogyny in the world.

You see, I'm not normal.

My father was fifty years old when I was born. This meant that in some ways he was painfully old-fashioned. However, in other ways he was surprisingly incredibly progressive. Here's an example: He absolutely believed it was inappropriate for women to curse. On the other hand, he didn't really curse himself. He also did not believe that women were weaker by any stretch of the imagination and not only expected but required that I work in the exact same way he would have had I been born a boy. He built houses for a living and often took me with him. Some of my earliest memories are playing on sawhorses on a job site.

My mother was 22 years his junior and was raised in a cult. She was and is a small, deceptively delicate woman. (Don't be fooled. The bitch has a spine of steel. I aspire.) My father was under the impression that she was made of finely-spun glass and must be protected at all costs, so she was rarely required to help.

I, however, was a sturdy child who grew into a tall, solid woman. As such, I spent so much of my childhood helping my dad with whatever. I now have any number of odd skills that came from being the only daughter to a man who expected everyone to carry their share. If I had a dollar for every time I had to shimmy under the house, or the car, or help saw wood, or hang drywall, or lay hardwood floor, or haul feed for the cows, or, or, or, I would have had a way better allowance. (I was also required to learn how to cook and clean and do laundry, etc. Work was work and didn't have a gender to my dad's mind. He rarely cooked, but it was because, other than white sausage gravy, he was so incredibly bad at it.)

My point, and I do have one, is I am not helpless. My husband adoooooores this about me. He loves that I'm loud, and abrasive, and willing to do whatever to get shit done, and that I do not modulate my tone because some people don't like it when women express themselves the way men often do.

The other thing you need to know for this story is that I absolutely LIVE on my phone. I've probably written half of the fanfiction I've posted here on the OneNote app on my phone. I'm thinking about turning off the screen report thing because somehow, I don't feel good when it tells me my screen time was down 25% TO an average of six hours a day. I don't know how to cope anymore without the damn thing.

The other day, I was getting out of my car and fumbling with my phone when I dropped it, screen side down, on uneven asphalt. The screen shattered, of course, so I needed a new one. (If I sound unconcerned, believe me. I had a full-blown mental breakdown in the parking lot of the place I'm trying to get a job. They were watching me through the window as I full body whined. It was great!)

Tom (the hubby) and I talked it over and I looked at my options. I had an iPhone, and didn't feel like learning a new one, so I decided to get a newer model, but not the newest. We'd buy it outright and save the upgrade on our account until we were both ready, because we like to upgrade at the same time to keep it simple.

Seems pretty clear, right? Does anything about that paragraph seem uncertain, or like I need assistance in any way with making a decision on what to purchase? Do I seem like I lack confidence, or have questions? Yeah, I'm even more strident in person. Keep that in mind.

I walk into the T-Mobile store to ask someone if I can exchange real American dollars for an iPhone 8 plus 64 GB, color doesn't matter. There is a dude there, training a young woman. SHE just started looking to see if they had it in stock. Didn't even question me. Was just gonna sell me a phone. Then the dude starts asking a bunch of questions and trying to talk me into a newer model because "it's only $50 more." Yeah. IF I USE MY FUCKING UPGRADE WHICH I JUST EXPLICITLY SAID I DON'T WANT TO DO.

I don't get pissed off. I just say thanks but no thanks, I just want what I said I want.

Turns out they're out of stock. I'm then informed that I can try the other stores, but they recommend I call around first so that I don't waste my time driving if they don't have one. Okay, then. I've only spent my entire adult life in customer service, so this doesn't infuriate me at all. Tom just stood at my back and looked down on the guy when he tried to talk to him. I love this man so freaking much.

I know the nearest T-Mobile store is not that far away and there's a restaurant Tom and I can get dinner at right near there that I like, so we decide to just drive down there. Mind you, I'm already mildly irritated because of the last store, I'm driving in the busiest part of my town during rush hour, and I'm currently switching the meds for my panic disorder. I'm a little high-strung.

We get to the next T-Mobile store and walk in. I've got a chip on my shoulder at this point, but remember, entire adult life in customer service, I’m not gonna start out an asshole. I tell the guy who greets me what I want. He informs me that they, too, are out of stock, and asks if I would be interested in the newer models. I tell him thanks, but no thanks, and ask if he can check if anyone else in town has the one I want because, and I FUCKING QUOTE, "I know what I want, and I'm not really interested in being sold to right now." (I promise you; I'm smiling and joking when I say that. I wasn't being a dick.)

Then, the guy next to him starts selling to me. Telling me that I'm wrong to want the other phone because blah blah blah and it's only $50 more, bullshit bullshit bullshit. Here's the interesting thing.

The guy was about four inches taller than me, putting him at about six foot. He was also about four inches away from me, way inside my personal space, and talking down to me like I was an idiot. I think he expected Tom to say something, which at that point he could stop dealing with my pushy ass and deal with a more reasonable man. What he got was me, deliberately, blatantly, and pointedly taking a long step back away from him and sneering at him in offended disgust while I did so.

The shock on his face was a wonder to behold.

"So, you're not going to help me then." I turn to Tom. "We're gonna go."

Tom turns to the douchebag. "We're gonna go."

I finally got the fucking phone I wanted, after calling a third store. That guy, Jordyn, was the shit. I told him what I wanted and why. He said cool. I walked into the store and traded my money for the phone I asked for. He was nice and respectful and never once talked to me like I didn't know how to handle either a cell phone or a financial transaction because I didn't possess a dick. Thank you, Jordyn, for being the only T-Mobile employee, out of the six I dealt with yesterday, to not make me want to douse all that magenta in gasoline and set the whole fucking thing on fire.

But I couldn't help but think about that douchebag. And my mom. My five-foot-nothing, tiny, sweet little mom. Who isn't made of spun-glass, but who isn't invincible, either. Who could have easily been menaced by a man with a foot in height and a hundred pounds on her. I have the luxury, the privilege, of being tall and strong and mean, with a broken fear response, so I don't really get intimidated. As a matter of fact, homeslice is lucky he didn't get a punch in the dick for his efforts.

But I'm not normal.

And that behavior is not okay. Especially not to sell a fucking cell phone.

#storytime with aunt amanda #storytime #manda rants #real life #misogyny #why I need feminism

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malecsecretsanta · 5 years

Text

Merry Christmas, @sandalwoodmalecs!

For sandalwoodmalecs: I hope you enjoy this piece: there's a lot of tropes in here which I hope you will like - there's enemies to lovers, though it's one-sided and quite silly, Magnus taking care of Madzie, lots of Queen, and it is set in the summer of 1982.

Read on AO3

*****

whatever this world can give to me

The sky billowed with clouds. Rain fell, heavy and fast, and Magnus cursed, pulling his briefcase closer to his body. He couldn’t stop a groan from slipping through his mouth as the bus sped past him, water drenching his bag despite his previous efforts. It was waterproof - allegedly. Hopefully, it stood the test, or there would be some very angry students when Magnus turned up with their essays - already belated - destroyed, their marks illegible. With that scintillating thought in mind, Magnus chased after the bus. The signpost of the bus stop faced him, almost mockingly. Next to the signpost, underneath the shelter, stood a man, a leather wallet already in his hand. The bus stopped, and Magnus cursed under his breath again.

The man, his suit perfectly dry, entered the bus. The money clinked, the ticket was exchanged, and the door hadn’t closed yet.

But as his eyes met the man’s - they were stunning, molten gold wrapped in jagged emeralds - he shook his head. The door closed, and the bus rattled off. Slightly out of breath, Magnus grabbed the signpost to steady himself, swearing vehemently under his breath. That asshole. He wouldn’t be able to make it to tea with Catarina now.

...

Thankfully, due to his early departure, he wasn’t late for work. Which was just as well. It hadn't been easy to secure this job. Yet, when he turned up to his first lecture, coffee in hand and briefcase slung over his shoulder, there were already students waiting outside the lecture hall. “Right,” Magnus said, opening the door, “come on in.” Chaos swarmed over the room as he stepped inside, the chatter continuing to flourish as the loud snap of desks opening filled the hall. Magnus sighed, throwing his belongings down on the table beside him. 8 am really was too early for a lecture. “Welcome. I have your essays.” The chatter started to crackle, to bubble, on the verge of setting fire to the room. He unclipped the brass clasp of his briefcase, pulling out the slightly damp essays. Magnus smiled, feeling only a tad evil. “Please collect them after the lecture.” A collective grumble spread across the room, but Magnus knew from unfortunate experience that handing them out now would lead to distracted and disinterested students. Well, only slightly more so than usual. Perhaps Magnus wasn't being fair to his students. They were generally a good lot, turning in most of their assessments on time and treating Magnus with respect. Magnus started to walk around, surveying the room, and everyone fell into a silent hush. “After exploring the rise of communism through the allegoristic story of Animal Farm, we will be exploring the fragility of the American Dream in early 20th century Midwestern America through Steinbeck's Of Mice and Men. Of course, if you pay any attention at all to the course you are studying, you would already know this.” Magnus turned around, scrawling Of Mice and Men onto the blackboard. He turned back around, his burgundy coat sweeping out. “Get out your books. There’s no rest for the wicked,” he said, winking. “Let's thoroughly dissect and explore the tragedy of George and Lennie.” The lecture passed in a swirl of content pouring out of his mouth, his own battered copy of Of Mice and Men lying on the table. It might not have been the easiest job, teaching adolescents the wonder of literature in the midst of this crazy decade. Life would never be easy. But at least, as a reputable professor, it was easier.

...

When Magnus finally found the time to swing around to Catarina’s place, it was Saturday afternoon, the vicious rain replaced by soft rays of sunlight. As always, Catarina opened the door with the bolt still in place. “Who is it?” The question hung in the air, soaked with the uncertainty and fear born out of societal prejudice.

“Magnus, dear,” he replied.

Catarina unlocked the door, leaning against it with a sigh. “Thank goodness you’re here.” Magnus frowned, walking inside. “Are you alright?” Catarina bit her lip, gesturing towards the phone lying limply on the table. “There’s been an influx of AIDs patients at the hospital, and, well…” "It's not your fault," Magnus cut in, trying to stop Catarina's spiral of self-deprecation before it took over. "What do you need? “Can you look after Madzie?” Catarina asked. It hurt Magnus to hear how hesitant Catarina was. They had been best friends for years. There was no reason to be hesitant in asking for a perfectly reasonable favour. “I know it’s short notice, but -” “Of course I will,” Magnus said, wanting to go up to Ronald Reagan himself to punch him in the face for contributing to all of this distress. “You know I love my sweetpea.” “She’s got a doctor’s appointment at five,” Catarina said, “it’s her yearly check-up, and she really can’t afford to miss it.” “Where is it?” Magnus asked, pushing down his anger at the world and its rigid, unjust ways, as Catarina needed cooperation, not venting, right now. “At the Lightwoods’ clinic down the road.” Catarina tilted her head to the side. “Madzie, you can come out now.” A door down the corridor creaked, opening to reveal Madzie. She dashed out from behind it, running up to hug Magnus. Madzie looked up at him with stars shining in her eyes. "Uncle Magnus! It’s good to see you.”

“It’s good to see you too, sweetpea,” Magnus replied, dropping down to Madzie’s height, “how’s school?” Her smile widened. “Great! Some kids are mean, but Zoe sticks with me.” Magnus nodded, grateful for the small mercies of life. “And we’re getting to write, now, on these tiny blackboards,” Madzie continued, enthusiasm sparkling within her eyes, “nowhere near as big as yours, Uncle Magnus. Do you know why they make chalk so crumbly?” Magnus laughed, shaking his head. “No, I don’t, sweetpea.” “Anyway,” Catarina interrupted, “Madzie, darling, Uncle Magnus needs to take you to your appointment shortly.” Madzie nodded, entwining her hands with Magnus' jacket as if afraid that he would go away, now that she had stopped talking to him. “May I go to the park after?” “Of course, dear,” Catarina said, slinging her bag over her shoulder, dropping down onto her knees to press a soft kiss to Madzie’s forehead. “Be safe.” “I’ll try,” Madzie promised, “Uncle Magnus knows how to keep me safe.” “He sure does. I’ll see you tomorrow morning,” Catarina said, unlatching the door, the bolt banging against the wood. “Do what Uncle Magnus tells you to do, okay?” “I will,” Madzie repeated, fiddling with Magnus’ jacket. The door closed with a click. Madzie fell into Magnus, forcing him to sit down so that she could crawl into his lap, though he didn’t mind. Magnus opened his arms, making it easier for Madzie to hug him. “We need to go to the doctors shortly, then supper and then the park. Sound good?” Madzie nodded against his neck. “Yep. Can you please read to me?” It broke Magnus’ heart that, even after all these months, Madzie was still so hesitant to ask for what she wanted. “Of course, dear,” he replied, pulling Matilda out of his pocket, “just relax.”

...

The clinic wasn’t difficult to find, with a neat Drs Lightwood scrawled on a sign in front of the place. When Magnus opened the door, he was met with a clean interior. And a friendly receptionist. “Welcome,” she greeted, putting down her pen, “I’m Ms Fray.” “Nice to meet you," Magnus said, "I'm Mr Bane, here for Madzie Loss' 4 o'clock appointment with Dr Lightwood." Ms Fray nodded, checking her notebook with practised ease. “Ah, yes. Please wait in the waiting room and you will be called shortly." “Thank you,” Magnus said, as Madzie grabbed his hand, tugging him towards the waiting area. “They’ve got a nice piano,” Madzie whispered into his ear. “Can you play it please?” Magnus smiled, sitting down at the piano. “Of course, sweetpea.” And as he slipped dramatically into a soft rendition of Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony, he started to relax. It was nice to only have to worry about one thing at the time, if only temporarily.

...

Dr Lightwood, unfortunately, broke Magnus’ reverie. He turned out to be that asshole from the bus stop. “Ah, Dr Lightwood," Magnus said, his smile now tight, "nice to meet you. I'm Magnus Bane, Madzie's uncle." Dr Lightwood leant forward, offering his hand, and in the name of politeness and in not scarring Madzie, Magnus shook it. "Please,” Dr Lightwood said with a dismissive wave of his hand, “call me Alec.”

If his eyes hadn’t been so familiar, Magnus might have believed that he was mistaken, that this charming doctor wasn’t the same person who had made him miss his bus.

Magnus tried and failed to add some semblance of warmth to his tone before he spoke next. “Alright.”

“Well," Alec said, flipping through a thin file, "as I told Catarina before on the phone, the health insurance has come through." "Right," Magnus replied, having to make a conscious effort to keep the bitterness out of his voice, "let's commence, then."

If it had been a regular day, and Magnus had missed his normal bus, he would have had some serious explaining to do to his boss.

So he wasn’t exactly brimming with positivity about this Dr Lightwood. Yet as the consultation went on, Alec continued to dote on Madzie with soft words and even softer smiles, leading Magnus to think that, despite his selfish tendencies, perhaps Alec wasn’t the devil incarnate. Still, for the peace of his own mind if nothing else, Magnus wanted to ask Alec why he hadn’t simply asked the bus driver to wait. So at the end of the consultation, he spoke up. "Madzie, if you could please wait outside, I would like to have a private word with Dr Lightwood." Madzie nodded, slipping outside without a fuss. Alec sighed, shuffling the paperwork. “Catarina has already paid for everything this year and completed all of the necessary paperwork - you know that, right?” “Yeah,” Magnus dismissed with a wave of his hand, “I do. But that’s not what I wanted to talk about. Is there a reason why you didn't wait for me to get on the bus?" Alec blinked. “I wasn’t trying to be rude.” “You clearly saw me,” Magnus couldn’t help but argue, “what, did you think I was running for the trees?” Alec shook his head, a small laugh escaping his lips. “Magnus. That wasn’t the public bus.” Magnus frowned, feeling his irritation slipping away. “But it looked exactly like one.” “A disguise,” Alec said, shrugging. “It was for a… training day, for a special selection of doctors.” “Oh.” Thank goodness Madzie was outside. She didn't need to see this. “Well - what happened to my actual bus?” “It turned the corner as you entered the street,” Alec said, his eyes crinkling with laughter. “Look, as an apology for creating you all this stress, however inadvertently, why don’t we meet up for coffee some time? My treat.” “Sure.”

There wasn’t any real reason to turn down an offer of free food and genuine companionship.

So Magnus took it.

...

There was a certain comfort to his loft, the long, draining week of exams finally behind him, a place where he could simply relax. As Magnus loosened his tie, excitement pierced his weary soul: tonight, he wouldn’t simply be eating takeout alone, but going out with Alec to a local diner. It had been so long since he had gone out with anyone new. His bell rang, and Magnus sighed, tightening his tie back up: despite the tie, his outfit wasn’t awfully fancy, just nice pants with a grey dress shirt. After slipping his wallet and keys into his back pocket, Magnus somehow found the strength within himself to walk to the door. It swung open outwards with ease - thankfully, Alec had taken the precaution of standing away from the door. But his smile still lit up the hallway, despite how relatively casual he was dressed compared to his stiff suit from the other day at the clinic: loose-fitting jeans, a simple t-shirt and scuffed sneakers. “Hey,” Alec said, stepping forward, “you look nice.” Magnus couldn’t stop the warmth in his chest from spreading, despite the danger. “Why thank you,” he replied, a smile slipping onto his face, “so do you, Dr Lightwood.” A slither of disapproval fell into Alec’s gaze. “No titles here, Dr Bane. Simply good food.” “Right then, Alec,” Magnus said, pulling the door closed behind him, “let’s head to the famous diner, then.”

...

The diner was lovely, tucked away from the general hustle and bustle of New York. “How’d you find this place?” Magnus asked as they walked inside. “It’s gorgeous.” Alec shrugged. “Come here all the time with my partner. It’s near the clinic and it serves good food.” As Alec spoke, a waitress approached them, her blonde hair tucked up into a bun. “Take your seats wherever you please,” she said, “and I’ll be back in a few minutes to take your order.” “Thanks, Lydia,” Alec said, before leading Magnus to a corner booth, near the jukebox that was belting out Don’t Stop Believin’.

Alec picked up the pitcher of water when he sat down, gesturing for Magnus to do the same. Magnus slipped onto the seat opposite Alec. “Who’s your partner?” he asked, opening the menu, “your wife?” It wasn’t something that Magnus necessarily wanted to be true, but something that was likely to be. Alec spluttered, putting down the pitcher of water. “Oh God no. It’s my sister.” “How’s working with your sister?” Magnus asked, scanning the menu absentmindedly, in an effort to shield his relief from the world. Alec shrugged, pouring water into his glass. “Good. She’s an amazing doctor. Could do without the teasing, though.” “Ah, but that’s the sisterly love right there,” Magnus said, his tone warm. Alec snorted. “Sure. Sisterly love. Want some?” he asked, gesturing with the pitcher. Magnus shook his head. “Nah, I’m good. Thinking of getting a chocolate milkshake.” Alec nodded, humming. “Izzy told me that they’re good. What else?” “A scone.” Magnus couldn’t help but think of how ashamed Ragnor would be of Magnus for daring to order and consume a disgusting, American scone. “Sounds good,” Alec said, sipping his water. He tilted his head towards the jukebox, which had now slipped into Under Pressure. “Do you like Queen?” A smile broke through, a topic of ease sliding onto his tongue. “Yeah,” Magnus replied, “they’re great.” Alec put down his glass of water, his gaze content. “Brilliant. My sister doesn’t. Nice to meet a fellow fan,” he said, holding his hand out in a mock handshake. “Why ever not?” Magnus asked as he shook Alec’s hand, pushing down the laughter bubbling within himself, feeling more comfortable by the second. Alec shrugged. “Bad taste, I say.” Magnus laughed, closing the menu. “Fair call.” And as the night fell away, into laughter and delicious food, Magnus couldn’t help but reflect on how screwed he was. Alec was such a beautiful man, both inside and out. Magnus really should learn to stop wanting what he could never have.

...

It wasn’t difficult to track down the clinic’s number, but it was with unsteady fingers that Magnus dialled it. Not knowing how something would be received tended to instil fear into a person. There was a click, a whirl, and the line crackled. “Dr Lightwood speaking.” It wasn’t Alec speaking - Magnus could tell that much. “Um, hi. This is Magnus Bane -” “I see,” they replied, smugness crawling into their voice. “I’ll get my brother in a minute, he’s on a break.” So Magnus waited, fanning himself to try and cool himself in the stifling summer heat. “Hello,” Alec said, “Magnus, thanks for calling.” It wasn’t what he had expected. “Oh - that’s quite okay. I was just wondering...” the line crackled with static, “if we could meet up again?” “Definitely. It’s game night with my sister tomorrow night if you’d like to come?” “That sounds lovely,” Magnus said, mopping the sweat from his forehead. “We even have an air conditioner,” Alec added, amusement slipping into his voice. “Izzy insisted that she would not live with me if I stunk up the place every summer. So, I let her invest.” “How chivalrous of you,” Magnus commented, the information making the deal sweeter if time spent with such an intriguing man needed to be improved upon. Alec chuckled. “Indeed. You can meet us at the clinic at 6 o’clock tomorrow night. Trust me, it’s easier that way.” “Well.” Magnus paused, taking a sip of his lukewarm water. “If you insist. See you then, Alec.” “See you. Stay safe.”

...

The clouds swirled above Magnus as he entered the clinic, the reception area empty but for the chatter of Alec and his sister drifting through from another room. “Stop overreacting,” someone chided, “everything is going to be fine.” Magnus couldn’t help the curiosity from spiking beneath his skin, as he strode forward and knocked on the door behind the reception desk. “Hello,” he said to an eyeful of plaster. The door opened, and with it, a young woman, her dark hair twisted into an intricate bun. “Magnus!” she said, beaming. She started to unbutton her lab coat, shedding the world of work from her shoulders. “I’m Izzy, Alec’s sister.” “Lovely to meet you,” Magnus replied, reaching out to shake her hand.

Izzy shook his hand. “You’ve found a chivalrous one, brother,” she teased. “I guess so,” Alec said as he stepped into the room, his hair ruffled. "Let's go.”

Only joy came from following Alec to his home, to another phenomenal night.

...

The game of the night turned out to be Payday; a game that Magnus cherished, if not for the game itself but of the countless times he had played it with Madzie. But never before had it been such a competitive exercise. “Honestly,” Alec muttered, reluctantly forking out some of his fake cash, “I didn’t even go to any High School Dances. Why do I have to pay for it?” “Stop complaining,” Izzy interrupted, her own wad of cash thick from a particularly profitable deal involving water pipes, “it’s a game, and anyway, you can survive buying your sister a few dresses.” Magnus laughed, lightness brewing within him, and it had nothing to do with the champagne. “Darling, I had to pitch in the same amount to make you a mayor. It’s a chance game.” “Well,” Alec said, handing the dice to Magnus, his palm warm, “my luck is a sham.” Izzy snorted, putting down her wine. “No, it’s not. You’re going to Queen next week.” “Yeah, because it’s my birthday gift from you, who I’m going with,” Alec replied, his gaze deadpan. Izzy shrugged. “Excuses, excuses.” She paused, swishing her wine around, turning to face Magnus, her eyes sparkling with the same fire that had made this game so intense. “You should go.” Magnus shook his head. “No, dear. You bought the tickets. You should go.” Izzy shrugged again. “Yeah, because I wanted my brother to have the option to go with someone, and I was there if he didn’t find anyone else he wanted to go with.” A logical response. Those always were more difficult to refute. “Really, Izzy, there’s no need -” Magnus said, repeating himself. As much as he would love to go to Queen, see Freddie Mercury’s face sparkle under the gleam of fluorescent lights as he belted his heart out, he didn’t want to be an intruder. Didn’t want Alec to resent him for stealing his sister’s rightful place. “Izzy’s right,” Alec interrupted, “she could care less about Queen, but you clearly love them.” Magnus blinked. “Are you sure?” “Yeah,” Alec said, putting down his own glass, “they’re my tickets and I’d love to go with you - if you can make it. It’s 8 pm next Tuesday.” Magnus finished work at 5. “Yeah,” he said, defeated, “I can.” “Right,” Izzy said, crossing her arms, “that’s settled, then.” Magnus smiled, his chest tight. “I guess it is, then.” “I’m looking forward to getting to spend more time with you,” Alec replied, picking up his glass. Lies fell, sugar sweet, from Alec’s lips, again and again. Yet perhaps Alec did genuinely enjoy Magnus’ company. Magnus lifted his glass in mock salute. “So am I.”

...

It took an hour on the dusty, crowded trains of New York to reach Madison Square Garden - but with Alec, it hadn’t mattered the surroundings, but who he was with.

The chatter swelled as they were caught up in the crowd moving towards Madison Square Garden. The sun still flared across the city as they shuffled through Tower B, yet there was also a cool breeze swirling throughout the crowd of people. They walked in the sticky heat to their seats along row 14, near the corner, but with a clear view of the stage. “You have a very nice sister,” Magnus muttered as they sat down. Alec shrugged. “Izzy’s amazing. But you should see what I got for her birthday.” “What?” Magnus asked as people continued to file in. “Her new home,” Alec said as if it was the most mundane gift in the world. “She had recently qualified as a doctor, much to our parents’ detriment, and I offered her a place where she wasn’t constantly asked when she was going to marry.” Alec fell quiet. “I don’t think either of us is going to please our parents in that particular area of life.” “Well.” Magnus cracked open his water, expensive as it was, and took a sip. “Marriage isn’t everything.” Alec laughed dryly. “Tell that to my parents. You’d be out of the door before you had even entered.” “Let’s not talk about those of the past,” Magnus said, squashing down the glee that arose from Alec’s untraditional views shining through, “let’s talk about the present, and the miracles we’re about to witness.” Alec nodded, and as he did, the whole entire stadium fell into a hush.

But then the whole crowd cheered and they joined into the roar, Freddie Mercury himself strolling onto the stage. “Hello New York!” Freddie said, his voice rolling across the stadium in a booming echo. “Welcome to Madison Square Garden!” The music thrummed with energy; but the display itself enthralled Magnus, with the dancing of the lights, in shades of green and red and blue, smoke curling off the stage. But perhaps the most enchanting part of the performance was Freddie himself, as he sung, walking across the stage like it was his home. He clapped, along with Alec, as the crowd joined in for a fast-paced rendition of We Will Rock You. The songs took him away, to an easier time, to a lighter time, to a world full of possibility. The crowd buzzed with enthusiasm, and it was contagious. For Magnus sung, he clapped, he laughed. A brilliant night, made sweeter by the man by his side. As it drew to an end, the chorus of We Are The Champions swelling into place with the banging of drums, fire licked against his skin due to the sheer intensity of the atmosphere. This was a concert of flame, of passion, of joy. But Magnus didn’t think that he needed to come here to find that part of himself - if he was allowed, he could find it in the man sitting right next to him.

...

They stumbled onto the night train with others from the concert, chatting idly with laughter stirring their weary bones. “Aren’t you glad that we forced you to go?” Alec teased, his eyes twinkling. Magnus shrugged. “Yeah,” he whispered, his voice slightly raspy from all of the singing, “I am. Thank you, again.” “I don’t think you quite understand,” Alec said, as the carriage shook and rattled, “it was my pleasure.”

...

There was a notable silence to Alec’s apartment after the buzz of the concert, covering Magnus like a blanket. Magnus flopped onto the couch, closing his eyes. The click of the door closing, the thud of Alec’s boots; all these little things reminding Magnus that he needed to get himself under control. “Magnus?” Alec called out, uncertainty wavering in his voice. “Are you alright?” Magnus lifted his head to smile, but it was strained and his eyes felt as dull as tarnished silver. “I’m fine.” Alec bit his lip. “Of course. It’s getting late.” There it was - the dreaded finality to Alec’s words. Alec had indulged Magnus for long enough. He was under no obligation to stick around. Even as a friend, even if - even if Magnus wanted more than that. But the world still shouted, still degraded and scorned and defiled men like him - yet Alec wasn’t like that. He wouldn’t yell at Magnus, but his rejection would be soft, and - Magnus could lose him. Magnus didn’t think he could bear that. Magnus nodded, fixating his gaze on the portrait of a beautiful woman in front of him. He’d never seen her before. “It is.” “Magnus,” Alec reprimanded softly, dropping down onto the couch beside him. “I think it best if - if you stay the night, if you don’t mind. The city isn’t safe at night when you’re alone - and -” Alec seemed worried, in a way Magnus really hadn’t seen him fret before. “Calm down,” Magnus interrupted, “I’ll stay, if that makes you feel better.”

But his words were simply another form of pretence: he wanted to stay for his own sake, simple as that. Alec sunk further into the couch. “Thank you. You can sleep in Izzy’s room, she’s with a friend tonight.” Alec sighed, curling up in on himself. “She can take care of herself.” Magnus doesn’t know who Alec was trying to convince - himself or Magnus. “Of course she can,” Magnus reassured, pushing away the hurt that arose from Alec choosing to not face him, despite the awkward position that ensued. “That’s her friend, Maia,” Alec said, pointing at the picture, “fierce and stubborn. Perfect for Izzy.” Magnus could feel himself relax, albeit slightly. Not a girlfriend, then. Alec shifted on the couch, restlessness interwoven into his bones. “There’s something I need to tell you.” Alec wasn’t looking at Magnus. “Go ahead,” Magnus said, “we’ve got all night.” “The thing is.” Alec sighed again, shaking his head. “Do you want some tea?” Magnus didn't particularly want tea, but - but it would mean that he got to chatter with Alec a bit longer. “If you don’t mind,” Magnus replied, “that would be lovely.” It seemed that all of the energy from the concert had been sucked out by the oppressive heat that still swirled around the city, even as the sun bid New York good night. Alec got up, quickly, as if thankful for the distance it put between him and Magnus. “How’s work?” It felt like Alec was trying to stagnate the conversation with mundane topics. “Exam season is coming up, so busy.” There was the whistle, the click of the kettle and the rattle of tea leaves before Alec spoke next. “I don’t miss it.” Magnus buttoned and unbuttoned his right cuff a few times. “Neither do I, rather, it’s much more pleasant being on this side of exams. Look - Alec - are you alright?” No matter how unfulfilled, how lost Magnus felt - how he felt didn’t matter. But, now, if Magnus was making Alec feel uncomfortable - that mattered. “Um.” Alec blinked, almost dropping the mug he was holding. “I need to tell you something.” The fear from before came roaring up into his heart, winding around it in an act of strangulation. “Okay,” Magnus said, swallowing down his own fear, “I trust you.” Alec smiled. Something fragile, small, but oh so beautiful. “So do I.” The kettle started to bubble, to boil, but Alec wasn’t paying any attention to it - instead, his eyes were fixated on Magnus. “I’m gay.” The words were quick, muttered under his breath like Alec was ashamed. “Hey,” Magnus said softly, “that’s okay. Thank you for telling me.” Such an immense show of trust; but even if Alec could be attracted to him, it didn’t mean he was. “And.” He paused. “Only Izzy knows, but I thought it would be important to tell you because -” Alec trailed off, turning off the whistling kettle. “Alec,” Magnus said, pushing aside his own mess of emotions in an effort to untangle Alec's, “you don’t have to tell me anything else that makes you uncomfortable.” Alec shook his head, putting the mug down, pouring tea into it. “No. I need to. And - if you never want to see me again after this, I completely understand.” Magnus couldn’t fathom anything that would turn him against Alec. Well, perhaps murder. But even then, it would depend on the circumstances. Alec exhaled, walking over with Magnus’ cup of tea, his eyes flickering down to the rug as he sat down on the armchair across from Magnus. “I like you.” Alec seemed frozen, rubbing his hands together. “Romantically - and - I just thought you should know, before it got more serious, before.” He swallowed again. “Before it would have been more painful for me to let go of you.” It broke Magnus’ heart, the way that Alec cut his own emotions away as if they were worthless. They were definitely not worthless. “Look,” Magnus began, walking over to Alec, putting his hand on Alec’s shoulder. “I’m bisexual, so I get how brave you are.” Alec stared at him, the sheer vulnerability and accompanying fear in his gaze throwing another dagger at Magnus’ heart. “Oh,” he whispered, “that’s good, but -” “I have feelings for you, too,” Magnus interrupted before Alec could enter another spiral of self-deprecation. “How could I not? You’re the most magnificent man I’ve ever met.” “I.” Alec blinked, his eyes wet. “I just. Really?” “Really,” Magnus said, rubbing circles into Alec’s shoulders, a smile slipping through. Alec leaned forward, tentatively, to cup Magnus’ face as if he was the most precious object in the world. “Can I.” He hesitated. “Can I kiss you?” “Of course,” Magnus replied, unable to stop himself from leaning into Alec’s touch. It was like being enveloped in pure, gentle warmth. With that, Alec leaned forward. The kiss felt like coming home, like kicking off your shoes after a long day at work. Alec pulled at Magnus’ jacket, and Magnus melted further into the kiss, winding his arms around Alec’s neck. He’d never felt so safe. The kiss ended, and Magnus laughed in disbelief. “I’m glad you took this risk. That was.” He searched for an adequate word, but couldn’t find anything adequate for the exhilaration spreading throughout his body and mind. “Wonderful. Exquisite.” “It was,” Alec said, joy shining in his eyes, “It’s getting late, though. Do you want to go to sleep?” Magnus nodded, stifling a yawn against his elbow. “Yeah. Is it okay if I go into your room? Just to sleep.” In the wake of their confessions, Magnus simply wanted to be close to Alec, to soak up his warmth, for as long as he could. “Yeah,” Alec breathed, “yeah, that sounds nice.” It took a few minutes, a few moments sinking into the wonderland spinning itself into existence before Magnus’ eyes, before Alec got up, Magnus following behind him. Once there, they sank into the bed, exhausted. But not too exhausted for Magnus to slip a hand around Alec’s waist, pulling him close, burrowing instinctively into his warmth. “I’m not going anywhere,” Alec mumbled, entwining his hand with Magnus’. The world outside might not be the most accepting; but here, in the arms of the man he was already halfway to falling in love with, Magnus had never felt freer.

#sandalwoodmalecs #malecsanta18 #*fics18 #*gifts18

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whiskers-meow · 6 years

Text

Chapter 1

This is my very first fic ever so I’m sorry if it isn’t that great. Feedback of any kind would be greatly appreciated! I’m also sorry if there are any inaccuracies to the story. I’m not a Hogwarts expert (yet). The story is a little short, and I haven’t gotten into all of the details yet, but it’ll come in the second chapter.

This fic doesn’t have a name yet but i’ll think of one eventually!

Summary: Reader is an American transfer to Hogwarts. She meets her brother, Blaise’s friends, and although she and Draco are extremely attracted to each other, they have a bit of a rocky start.

Draco Malfoy x Black Reader

It was a cool, and breezy day, and the train station was full of muggles attempting to catch their trains to their target destinations. You had been staring at the wall in front of you between platforms 10 and 9 for about 15 minutes calculating your next move. It was already 10:45 and you knew that the train would be leaving at exactly 11 am. Plenty of wizards and witches had gone before you, but there was something unnerving to you about running yourself into a brick wall.

You were finishing the rest of your wizarding education at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry after transferring from your old school in the United States. You were unsure if the school even allowed transfer students, and hadn’t received your acceptance until the week before.

You watched closely as a girl and her parents prepared to enter platform 9 ¾ and decided that you would attempt to enter right afterwards.

A heavy sigh of relief was released as you made it through. As you made your way onto the Hogwarts Express, you searched for an empty seat, because the train was already filled with students. “Finally,” you breathe after you came across some free seats. You knock on the door to the compartment and a boy opens. “Hey are these seats taken?” “No, go right ahead,” the boy answered. “I’m y/n,” you said as you took your seat. “Neville,” the boy answered. You flashed the boy a friendly smile, and began conversing with him. He introduced you to his frog, Trevor and told you about his studies in herbology, while you talked about your passion for learning about potions. A few minutes into your conversation, you excused yourself to go about wondering on the train.

You got up from your seat to look around when you saw a familiar face. You made your way to your brother who was already seated with two other people. “Blaise!” The boy looked up and gave you a smirk. “Well look who finally stopped being a big baby.” “Yeah, thanks for the help, asshole,” you said as you mushed his face with your hand while he laughed at you. “Y/n, this is Pansy, and Draco. Guys this is my sister, y/n.” You acknowledge his friends with a sweet smile, a short wave which the girl sitting next to your brother returned. The boy sitting across from the pair, who you now recognized as Draco, was carefully observing you. From your thick curly hair, pulled into a puff on top of your head, to your skirt which ended midway down your thighs.

He was knocked out of his trance by you offering yourself the seat next to him while you continued to talk to your brother. As he slid over in the seat, he carefully watched your skirt move up your thighs and lose a couple of inches as you sat down, which caused him to subtly lick his lips.

“So did they tell you what house you’d be put into?” Draco’s ears perked up at the question Blaise asked, curious to know if she’d be in the same house as he was. “No, not yet. I’m not sure but I think I may be going through the Sorting Ceremony with the first years.” “Do you think you’re going to end up in Slytherin?” Blaise continued. “I don’t know. Probably not. This doesn’t seem like my type of scene,” you stated, looking around at the darkly dressed trio of students. Draco scoffed. You brushed it off and ignored his sneer as your brother kept the conversation going. “So where are you sitting,” Blaise asked looking around. “A little further back with some guy I just met. He’s pretty cool.”

Draco felt a pang of jealousy. You had already met someone and you weren’t even on the train for 20 minutes yet.

“Who?” Draco blurted out, as the table looked at him in confusion.

“His name is Neville,” you answered hesitently.

Draco let out a small chuckle. “Neville’s about as cool as a heat wave if you ask me,” he said under his breath.

“But did I ask you?” you retorted at him.

“Imagine how desperate you have to be to be friends with Longbottom. I think I’d just leave, wouldn’t you?” Draco asked, directing his question to Pansy.

“Blaise, get your friend before I do, because he doesn’t know me like that,” you said, getting defensive and looking at your brother.

“Thank Merlin for that,” he replied snobbishly.

“You know what? I’ll just catch up with you later, Blaise,” you stated as you stood from your seat. “Pansy, it was nice to meet you,” you gave her a warm smile. The smile fell as you directed your gaze at the blonde boy. “Drago,” you nodded at the boy, purposely mispronouncing his name. Before he could respond, you turned on your heels, and walked away with a smirk on your face. Your heart was thudding in your chest after the talk between you and the boy with the gorgeous blue eyes. It might not have been an ideal first conversation, but the heated exchange didn’t turn you off.

Draco couldn’t help but watch you walk away. He was intrigued with everything about the girl he had just met, and he had to admit that the banter he just got into with you was amusing. He had been watching you walk away for about a minute now, completely silent trying to be discreet with his ogling.

“Tell me again how you two are anywhere near related? She’s a rude, hot head,” he said as he tried to quickly cover himself.

“Is that why you were checking her out?” Blaise asked his friend with a snicker.

Draco rolled his eyes. “Checking her out? She was insufferable!”

“Oh please!” Pansy interjected. “You were so far up her skirt that your face was practically in her arse. “

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bookaddict24-7 · 6 years

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MUSIC MONDAYS:

A series where I recommend a book, review it, and create a short playlist to give a sense of what the book is about.

This review may contain spoilers.

Disclaimer: I received a copy via Edelweiss in exchange for an honest review.

This week’s feature is a book that had me on all kinds of emotional roller coasters. On one hand, I was a naive reader and I thought I knew what was best for the characters, but on the other hand, I was also a frustrated reader because of the protagonist’s at times naive behaviour. But I learned quickly that this book wasn’t just about the awful events that Mafi’s character’s suffer, it’s about finding and believing the hope that not everyone you meet is going to be a jerk; it’s about finding a reason to hope that perhaps certain people deserve more credit than we initially give them.

A Very Large Expanse of Sea by Tahereh Mafi is a powerful story set in 2002, one year after the events of 9/11. While there have been many novels about the after-effects of that tragic day, Mafi manages to write a memorable novel about a teenage American Muslim girl trying to find her path in a brand new high school. Shirin is pretty sure that the best way to protect herself is to expect the worst from the strangers around her. After all, they judge her when they first meet her, right? Until one boy seemingly doesn’t and his interest could offer Shirin a new perspective. What could happen if she allows herself to fall for someone the rest of the world doesn’t see fit for her? What could happen if her protective walls start to come down?

There is absolutely no doubt in my mind that I really enjoyed this. Hell, I will be recommending this to the readers coming into the bookstore until I go blue. But, with that being said, this wasn’t a perfect read. I’ll get my big negative point out of the way so I can fangirl about the things I did love about this book.

My biggest concern is the portrayal of Ocean. While I can see the way his imperfect character learns some vital lessons due to the way he is portrayed, I am also slightly disappointed that he was shown as such a “perfect” white male character. He was a very good™ character, despite his troubled past. It’s literally one of his characteristics. While I can understand the importance of having someone who sees the world that way Ocean does in a book like this one, it was done in a very unrealistic way. No one is that naive, especially in 2002. Even those who hope for the best from humanity have to have seen the tension growing in the States between the different citizens. I am privileged because I did not experience the wave of hate that came on the heels of 9/11. However, my mother dated an asshole before she met my stepdad and he was from NYC. When he was visiting us here in Canada, he yelled some pretty racist stuff to people who were minding their own business.

I personally didn’t experience the hate so many lived with in the early 2000′s and the hate that so many still live with now, but in that brief moment I saw how someone that I once thought was cool could hide such a darker side. It was a lesson I never forgot and I can still remember where we were and how he looked yelling that disgusting crap out of our car window.

My point with this digression is that while I can understand Ocean’s purpose in this book--because Shirin is understandably jaded and careful and we need a character to show her that hope still exists--but his over-the-top naïveté and wishful ignorance made it hard for me to completely fall into the story whenever his “goodness” was mentioned.

For all of his annoyingly chipper behaviour, Ocean does grow in this novel. He learns to hope, but it comes at a price. While I wasn’t a fan of how he is presented in this novel, I did feel for him and his experiences. Having your positivity thrown in your face isn’t a great experience.

With all of that being said, however, the rest of the book was just incredible. At first, I didn’t know how to feel about Shirin. I will admit that I became a victim of my own opinions and tried to place my expectations on her. She was a very careful character who knew her own world much better than I did. I fell into the trap of expecting certain things from her, but was happy to experience Shirin’s growth into a character far beyond what I expected her to be. Don’t get me wrong, Shirin was at times naive not unlike Ocean. However, he expected the best and she expected the worst. This at times also grated on my nerves because I wanted her to at least try.

One of the great things I loved about this book was how Shirin grew to have hope. In a story where so many bad things happen to her because of who she loves, what her beliefs are, and how she looks, it’s incredible to see her grow into a person who is ready to take on the future. Also, I admired how important it was to her to remain true to her identity. She didn’t let the bullying, or the anger thrown at her dissuade her from her beliefs.

Another interesting point was the comment on how fickle young minds can be. It’s interesting because of how true it is to see how some teenagers follow the pack mind, but most move on until their actions become a regrettable memory. There’s a point where Shirin even comments on how weird her classmates are when their opinions waver and change in certain situations. Even this message gives the reader a sense of hope because it shows that swaying public opinion isn’t as impossible as we might think it is.

Also, I’m just throwing this in here because it’s still a point of interest in 2018: the double-standard on how boys are raised compared to how girls are raised. The leniency that Shirin’s brother is shown in regards to dating, going out, and the rules is staggering in comparison to Shirin’s own rules. Thankfully, it wasn’t an impossible hurdle for Shirin’s story, but it was something mentioned and I wasn’t entirely surprised to see that we’re still struggling with this today.

One other topic I want to mention before I finish is that of Shirin’s parents. The differences between immigrant parents who’ve strived for a better life for their families and the children who grew up in the new country was not lost on me. Shirin’s allusions to her parents’ dark pasts made me incredibly sad for Shirin and her brother. I personally believe that everyone has their own struggles. It doesn’t matter how large my struggle is compared to the next person--everyone has a struggle. To tell your children that their struggles aren’t important or as impossible to overcome because they didn’t grow up in a war-torn country is deeply disheartening. Especially when those struggles include racism and physical abuse at the hands of people full of hate. Like many other things in this book, this broke my heart.

Putting aside all of the sadness, this was a beautifully written book. I fell in love with Mafi’s writing through her middle grade series and I was a tiny bit hesitant going into this one. I was very happy to see that I still enjoy her writing!

But like other important Young Adult novels coming out recently, I think this is an important book to read. It may not be set in our present time, but it is set in one of the most recent dark times in our history. Racism is always a dark subject to read about, but it’s also something that needs to be talked about. Mafi’s book is something that everyone should aspire to read, if not for the incredible messages of hope and growth and understanding, then for the jarring realities of what it was like to be a young Muslim woman in 2002.

My Rating: ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️.5

Age Recommendation: 13+

Genres: Contemporary, Romance, Racism

Add it to your Goodreads here.

See the playlist on Spotify here.

The Playlist & Why I Chose this Music:

1. What A Wonderful World by Louis Armstrong

This is the kind of song that is played when we want to remember that though the world may look like crap, there are still things and people who are worth the fight to make the world a better place. Also, this song goes back to the theme of hope.

2. Don’t Phunk With My Heart by The Black Eyed Peas

So, because this is set a year before I started high school (it’s...been a while), I went ahead and reconnected with a bunch of songs from my teenage years. Anyway, the lyrics to this song remind me of Ocean’s struggle in trying to get Shirin to admit she’s into him. That boy’s heart took a beating in this book.

3. Lose Control (FT. Ciara & Fat Man Scoop) by Missy Elliott

Shirin and her brother are badass breakdancers. If you’ve ever heard this song, then you know that the lyrics and the beat will immediately make you want to dance. This song connects us to Shirin’s surprisingly fun and cool side.

4. What You Waiting For? by Gwen Stefani

While one of the songs chosen was for Ocean’s poor heart, this song is for Shirin’s scared heart. She wants something that she’s afraid will destroy her world, but she has to be prepared to take a chance first.

5. White America by Eminem

This song is pretty self-explanatory. I know this is a controversial choice, but I honestly thought of this song first when it came time to choosing a playlist. Eminem’s lyrics and uncensored observations touch on some of the issues explored in Mafi’s novel.

6. No Surprises by Radiohead

There’s a moment in the book where we get to see some of Shirin’s music. This song was on the playlist she had created and I thought it was fitting to include it in my fan playlist. I always like including songs that the characters themselves reference.

7. Mr. Brightside by The Killers

This is all of Ocean’s sunny disposition and his unrealistic expectations of the world around him. While the lyrics themselves don’t correlate with Ocean and Shirin’s relationship, the ironic title of the song and the darker undertones of the seemingly chipper beat shows that things aren’t always what they seem. Ocean learns a lot from his experiences and this song shows a man who is learning to not be Mr. Brightside.

Have you read this book yet? Would you recommend it?

Happy reading!

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