#which is going to ramp her issues up even more than before

[wayfayrr]

The Menace Anon is back but with a Self Aware ask because I got an idea as I tried to mod my Switch. How about that Zelda is aware in the Game? There is already Zelda's Ballade a Mod for BotW so Zelda replaced Link/ Wild. So what about Zelda being the one who is aware and works together with her Link as in Age of Calamity it's possible to play as Zelda. And now there are two Zeldas and maybe one Link/Calamity as he is probably aware of Reader with all the DLCs and if Reader is anything like me they get 100%. I did that to BotW and am working on it in TotK. Zelda would be extremely clingy especially Flora, BotW Zelda, as she lost everyone who is important to her. Maybe she gets Wild to help her. Fauna and Calamity have Terrako and this little thing shoots through the screen with his laser. TAKE COVER READER!

this is gonna be a funny thing to answer as someone who isn't the fondest of zelda in botw/totk (she had the potential to be really good I just don't vibe with how she was written lmao - so many missed opportunities)

but that also has the potential of introducing the fact of what if you didn't like the characters story when they were aware - because that would be awful for her wouldn't it?

she loves you more than anything but because of the way her story was written you don't like her? Even going as far as to apologise to link about what he got put through in the story? so she's stuck hearing you give him your pity as she's trying her HARDEST to get you to see her in another light, while link is either looking on smugly at your blatant favouritism or staring on blankly as he is simply a puppet of the game who isn't even alive either one being a good spark to why she'd be more willing to work with the aoc pair.

I think they'd have more potential to work together in aoc as compared to either botw/totk (also time to give cal some time in the spotlight like you mentioned) seeing as he has the most "history" with zelda, whereas wild/tears have no incentive to (they're the only playable character so what does she have on them?)

Zelda from her actions alone at the opening also seems to be more reckless in her safety than link, so her hopping into another game earlier than when she'd have a good grasp on how to do it without many issues seems in character for her. hence, now there's two different zeldas in your aoc file? That shouldn't be something that happens right? you've watched the cutscene many times and she never appeared with the other botw characters - so why is she here now? But the other members seem to acknowledge her so maybe you're just misremembering? They'll make sure to keep a note of anyone who might try to convince you otherwise as well.

when the three of them finally do get out - and probably after apologising for scorching a wall or something, then they have the perfect place to start winning you over properly <3 trying to prove to you that they're more than simply the character that Nintendo wrote them as, that you should give them a chance to show you how much they care for you!!!

just, just don't choose link over them, else you may not see much of him anymore - as while they can work together, they aren't exactly willing to work with a threat, but as long as you treat them equally there's no issue right?

[forsetti]

On Calls For Pres. Biden To Step Aside: Know The Players And Motives Tossing aside one of the most progressive presidents in fifty years because you are afraid they might not win an election is just plain stupid without a really, really, really solid backup plan. It is even stupider if you look at who is pushing for him to step aside and their motives. Here are the main groups calling for Pres. Biden to step away from running against Trump in November and why:

1-Republicans. Republicans know Biden is the biggest threat to them getting back the White House and enacting their batshit crazy policy agenda. They want nothing more than to not run against Pres. Biden because not only does he have the track record of beating Trump before but has an amazing economic record to run on. If you ever want to understand who Republicans view as their political threat, all you have to do is look at who they are attacking. They were going after Hillary for three years prior to 2016. The entire Benghazi witch hunt had no other purpose than to damage her electorally. Every single hearing about Hunter Biden, the border, the Biden Crime Family,… is nothing more than dog and pony hearings to dampen Democratic and Independent voter enthusiasm.

2-The Media. Trump’s non-stop crazy train administration was a goldmine for media outlets. Every day there was a new outrage, wild-ass rant, something that brought eyes to screens which translates to selling ad time/space. The Biden administration is efficient and boring. No scandals, except the ones Republicans gin up that turn up nothing. No rants. No chaos. No real controversy. Just plain old boring governance which is great for the country but bad for a business model that relies on shock, drama, and negativity. “Dems in disarray,” has been a media cottage industry since Bill Clinton was in office. If you don’t understand the financial motivation for why the media constantly derides Democrats for the slightest misstep while ignoring Republican malfeasance, you are probably likely to fall for their own brand of political propaganda.

It should tell you something that major news outlets have come out demanding Pres. Biden step aside for not looking good on camera during one ninety-minute debate but not a single one has asked the same of the candidate who was found guilty of sexual assault, found guilty of thirty-four felony charges, misspeaks dozens of times at every rally, and goes off on wild, illogical, batshit crazy tangents, and is tied to child sexual abuse via Jeffery Epstein. That they are not treating Trump with the same non-stop demands to step aside as they are Pres. Biden should tell you something about their motives.

3-Bad Foreign Actors. Russia wants nothing more than for Biden to lose the election. He is their biggest threat to taking over Ukraine and pushing their influence farther into Western Europe. NATO is stronger now and has more members than at any time in its history. This is the last thing Putin wants. Russia has been actively pushing propaganda online to influence U.S. elections for some time but really have ramped it up the past few election cycles.

Russia targets Republicans by fueling rage over culture war topics like abortion, immigration, racial violence, and the decline of Western, Christian norms. They also target liberals by trying to divide them over issues they care about Israel/Palestine, LGBTQI rights, Bernie vs Clinton, Bernie v Biden, DNC v “real progressives,”… They want liberals at each other’s throats because, if unified, the left is the largest voting bloc in America. Conservatives are electoral dinosaurs but they maintain power through gerrymandering, voter suppression, and liberals being more invested in their petty arguments than voting Republicans out of office.

4-Sandernistas. There is still a good-sized faction of people on the left who are still upset about Bernie Sanders not being the nominee in 2016 or in 2020. They are especially mad at what they deem as “establishment Dems,” screwing over Sanders in 2020 starting with the South Carolina primary. What they really are upset about is black voters, predominately female black voters, denying their White Progressive Savior his rightful spot at the head of the ticket. Because Pres. Biden was the one who benefited from this minority voting bloc in 2020, tearing him down and taking him out is a passion project for a lot of so-called “progressives.”

These “progressives,” are under the disillusion that if the Democratic Party fails far enough, hard enough, they will be able rebuild it in their own, perfectly progressive image. They never explain how this magical transformation will happen, they just take it as a matter of faith. Of course, anyone who understands American history and basic civics knows if/when conservatives have ultimate power, they will make sure they never lose another election.

These “progressives,” are the worst kind of progressive. They are often white, middle to upper-class liberals who view politics as a game because they are usually shielded from the consequences of the electoral decisions. If you are a middle/upper-class white, male progressive, very few, if any of Trump’s actions when he was in office affected you directly. The same cannot be said about the progressive voters who overwhelmingly supported Hillary in 2016 and Joe in 2020. They have the most skin in the game, have the most to lose and they vote accordingly. For white dudebros to step in and demand Pres. Biden step aside is a direct “fuck you” to the most loyal part of the base which has the most to lose if Trump is reelected.

Never mind this group has NEVER accomplished a damn thing politically other than cost many good Democrats to lose and decades and decades of progressive policy and law wiped out. They are as adamant about their political skills as they are it is always someone else’s fault when the find-out portion of their fuck around actions comes to fruition.

5-Progressives suffering from 2016 PTSD. This is the one group I can actually relate to and sympathize with. Hillary's loss in 2016 was a major shock to a lot of people. This shock was compounded because not only were we denied the first female president, but we got a lying, narcissistic, misogynist man-child in her place who went about rolling back decades of hard-earned progressive policies and turning the Supreme Court into a right-wing arm of the Federalist Society.

For those of us who lived through 2016, there is no election data that will make us feel good or at ease. It also makes us hyper-vigilant about anything and everything that can be seen as a negative towards the nominee. The second anything bad happens, whether factual or not, a lot of people in this group take the flight instead of the fight option which is associated with PTSD.

Being overly anxious and hyper-vigilant are not necessarily bad unless they lead to bad decisions.

There is only one sure way to make sure Trump is not reelected. Vote for the candidate running against him. Period. Full fucking stop.

If you aren’t willing to do this, for whatever reason you tell yourself, then you will be directly responsible for the very thing you claim is a politically existential moment. Stop listening and parroting Republican talking points. Stop allowing the media to determine who you should vote for. Stop listening to butt-hurt progressives who have no record of political success about what those who do should/shouldn’t do. Stop acting like frightened little bunnies whenever someone says something negative about successful Democratic leaders. Stop automatically going into flight mode when something goes wrong or something negative is said. Fight.

If you aren’t willing to fight, and I’m not talking about inter-party fighting (that time came and went,) for women’s rights, minority rights, safe air/water/food, climate policies, democracy… then you really aren’t as progressive as you tell yourself and others. You are a big reason why we are even in this situation. Whether you like Pres. Biden or think he is too old really isn’t the pertinent issue if you really care about the things you say you do. As long as Pres. Biden is willing to fight like hell for progressive policies and prevent Republicans from turning the country into a white supremacist, misogynist, oligarchy, you should be doing the same.

I don’t know what is going to happen between now and election day. Neither does anyone else. The one thing I am 100% positive about is if Trump does win, the people on the left who have spent the majority of their time and energy railing against the Democratic Party and Pres. Biden will blame anyone and everyone other than themselves. If Pres. Biden wins reelection, these same people will claim their childish hissy fits are what led him to “change course,” enabling him to win. Their view of personal responsibility for election outcomes is some fucked up “No True Scotsman,” bullshit. Nothing, and I mean NOTHING ever counts against their political beliefs and views.

I know some people reading this will wonder why I spend so much time and energy railing against the left. The answer is really simple-I fully expect the people on the right to be bad-faith actors who are hell-bent on destroying any and all progressive policies and candidates. I don’t, and shouldn’t expect the same from people who claim to be political allies. You can't claim to be a member of Team Good™ if your behaviors and actions help Team Bad™.

[brf-rumortrackinganon]

Wondering what kind of shenanigans you foresee Meghan trying to pull re: Kamala Harris? I’ve seen a puff piece claiming “Meghan would love to endorse Harris” floating around but that was last week when people with much bigger names actually were coming out to endorse. That article mentioned that Meghan had been in close touch with Shannon Watts (Moms Demand Action co-founder) who organized a fundraising zoom call for Harris last week that had several celebrities on it, but if Meghan was on the call then she wasn’t asked to speak or wasn’t mentioned. I think you’ve said before that most people in politics have already figured Meghan out, but I can’t help but think she’s going to be desperate to try and do something, especially considering both she and Harris are mixed-race California women. In my own personal opinion, if the Obama’s won’t touch her with a ten foot pole then neither will Harris, and the last thing a serious presidential candidate should want to do is give the time of day to someone who has public beef with one of our best allies…but who knows

*not trying to start a political debate on your blog. I simply am curious as to your thoughts on if/how Meghan will try to hijack this moment, and what her success level will be.

There was gossip a couple months back that Meghan and Harry were planning to contribute to the election in some way again - my thought was that they were probably going to do another GOTV video, even though it was widely panned and criticized.

But now that the race has changed and the presumptive nominee is Kamala Harris? I’m actually not so sure anymore. Kamala and her team would be fully aware, and wary, of the way Meghan operates, given their relationships in California politics, friendships with the Obamas and Bidens, and Kamala’s position in the party.

Will Meghan try to get in and do some politicking? Absolutely. But the campaign will probably keep her at arm’s distance because they know all the dirt and the closest Meghan will get to them is a sudsy public service announcement on the importance of voting or maybe a spot at a closed-door private fundraising dinner hosted by a WME connection.

Will Meghan try to manifest a relationship or a connection with Kamala? Absolutely, again. In fact it’s already started - @the-empress-7 pointed out yesterday that Meghan’s press releases and emails have begun using vocabulary and style that mimics Kamala’s speeches. So the subtle SEO work is in progress, and I would expect it to ramp up in the coming weeks as the Democrats come to Chicago for the convention.

Speaking of Chicago, Harry’s been to Chicago a few times for work with the Obamas. And let’s not forget that Meghan went to college in Chicago (technically, in the metropolitan area of Chicago but she doesn’t care about facts). So there are increasing odds that we *might* see the Sussexes in Chicago. My theory is we’ll see her GOTV ad during the convention primetime air slots.

Since Meghan seems to be on a new kick with Moms Demand Action (because mom is her latest rebranding) and it ties in nicely with Harry’s security salvo from last week about how dangerous the UK is (which certainly isn’t helped by what happened in Southport yesterday), my feeling is that she may be trying to wedge herself in the door through them. But how will she act? There’s a few possibilities:

Another NYT op-ed endorsing Kamala.

In a “(identity politics) for Harris” call/conference.

Through some magazine article feature story because it’s time for her to win another award.

A special episode of her podcast, now hosted at Lemonada.

I can’t say why, but my gut is saying it’s going to be an op-ed of some kind or an appearance at an issues-based conference/summit that no one’s heard about. Because Meghan is uniquely qualified more than anyone to speak on the horrors of having to live under constant threat of danger just to do ordinary things in her ordinary life…which she will say with left eye, one tear, go to parents that have lost their children to school violence and everyone will be uncomfortable.

I’ll end it with this. If it’s true that Harry will be spending 4+ weeks in the UK soon, we should fully expect Meghan to go nuts with paparazzi stunts and appearances, as she usually does when Harry’s away. We could very well see her trying to get “in” with the campaign since late August/early September is when the campaigns swing into high gear.

[fabrickind]

so how in the absolute fuck did Zettai Unmei Mokushiroku save your life

LMAO a couple people have been wondering this so I'll tell the story.

tl;dr: if you are having severe medication side effects, get off that med.

In fall of 2017 I came down with a nasty migraine(? probably?) that disabled me to the point of being pretty much non-functional. I had to quit my job, I could barely leave bed, was in too much pain 24/7 to sleep properly and when I did sleep it was nothing but dreams about being in pain, the works.

I went through a LOT of different medications and diagnostics (MRI, spinal tap, you name it) to try to fix this problem. It never fully went away, but Botox ended up getting me functional again.

One of the medications they put me on, Topamax, was very bad for me. I did the proper ramping up of dose, got to the correct dose, and everything was so much worse. I was having hallucinations, visual disturbances, overall a bad time.

Around this time I was also having issues with word recall. I would mean to say one thing but a totally different word would come out, or I couldn't think of a word at all. Usually this was when I was super tired, so I just chalked it up to my brain being mush due to pain and fatigue (my brain is often soup when I have a migraine, let alone one that severe for going on several months at that point) and mostly ignored it, since i had more pressing problems.

Around this time the neurologist I saw also saw my symptoms and side effects and the fact that the med wasn't helping up to that point and said "well all of that will get better with time" and wrote me a prescription for quadruple (!!) my dose (without ramping up either).

THANKFULLY, just before this happened, I was in the car, fully awake, having a relatively good day, and what comes on my iPod shuffle but our old friend Zettai Unmei Mokushiroku. I was singing along, well, trying to, but I would open my mouth and only gibberish would come out, and not even the correct gibberish. I thought "that's concerning" and tried again. More gibberish.

I had remembered that my now partner (this was just before we started dating) was briefly on Topamax for migraine prevention and had word recall issues, but that hers persisted for a long time after she stopped.

So I called up my GP and said "uhhh here's my side effects (including the aphasia issues, the neurologist knew about those) and the dose he wants me on, should I do this?" and she basically said "wtf no stop the med right away."

If I hadn't had the issues with very much the wrong sounds coming out of my mouth when singing, I probably would have believed the neurologist and suddenly started a quadruple dose of the med, which would have caused even worse side effects, and side effects that were permanent, or at least MUCH longer lasting than the maybe month or so of continued visual issues and mild word recall issues I ended up with. (Also my overall health improved and I had less of the extreme eepies I had on the med once I stopped.) Luckily I was only on it for maybe two weeks at that point?

So "ZUM saved my life" is probably an exaggeration, but "ZUM prevented continued and long-lasting neurological problems" is absolutely not. It seems like sometimes the cognitive impairments go away for people after stopping Topamax, but for people who have been on high doses and/or for a long time, it sometimes doesn't, even after years.

So thanks, Utena, for my life, literally this time.

[leighlew3]

Hi Leigh, hope you are doing well!

Maybe you have answered this question before: how would you have written the Supergirl reveal to Lena?

You still have the elements of it being so late in series and that Lena actually already knows.

I wonder how a good writer would approach this because in the show it was an actual train wreck- Lena wanting to expose Supergirl’s identity at the Pulitzer party before Kara actually said it?! So out of character. And all that stuff after? So stupid.

Anyway thanks for answering this question :)

Hi! Hangin' in there, thank you. 🤗

Well, it depends on what point the launch off was.

Let's say she learns via Lex, just like in the show (rather than rewrite the whole damn series in this post, haha).

Just thinking on the fly, here goes... I woulda just had her reeling, feeling betrayed, and isolating rather than putting on a front.

Kara doesn't understand what's happening, but wonders if maybe Lena is secretly angry with her for killing Lex (remember, Kara believed she took him down in that final fight at the end of S4). This is hammered in further after Alex plants the seed that, evil or not, Lex was still Lena's brother, and so some level of sadness is likely to still exist there. She advises Kara to give Lena time and space.

Kara, further worried by Lena's worsening isolation and mood, ignores her sister's advice and makes efforts to connect, but increasingly senses the distance and her guilt grows.

Meanwhile Lena -- between finding out the truth that Kara is Supergirl in such a terrible way, while also hiding that she killed Lex (to protect Kara, ironically) truly spirals and starts to think that Kara perhaps never was truly her friend at all, only using her to be able to eventually take down Lex. A means to an end. Feeling like that's all she's ever been to anybody, including her "best friend" who meant the world to her, Lena becomes darker and more cold, sure -- but never takes those ridiculous 'villainous' actions of any kind.

Alex pulls a typical Alex move and starts to suspect that Lena's isolation and darker vibes could mean trouble as "She is a Luthor." and she's worried she'll carry Lex's torch now that he's gone, and her isolation means she's up to something. Kara of course doesn't buy it -- much like in the show, defending Lena, rebelling against the notion.

After ramping the tension throughout Season 5A on these fronts, a dramatic series of events eventually leads Kara to go to Lena and try to have a much needed conversation. Lena thinks she's perhaps finally going to confess, and she allows herself to feel hopeful again -- alas that hope is dashed, when instead Kara simply apologizes for killing Lex (so she thinks she did), and not realizing how much doing so would cause Lena pain. Lena finds this ironic, Kara's concern for her pain, considering she's lied to her all this time and still won't be open with her. Lena then decides that if nothing else, she won't lie.

She tells Kara that Lex died at HER hand, not Kara's.

Kara is shocked. She's pulled away by an emergency before they can discuss this further. And thus, Kara now believes Lena's distance and darkness is driven by guilt over killing her own brother, and Kara now feels more guilty than ever that she went through that, and that she continues to keep Lena in the dark, even though Lena opened up to her. As we approach mid-season, the two have several 'almost' moments where it seems Kara might actually confess her identity. And we make it clear that she wants to. But the more she sees how hurt Lena is about having to kill Lex, to protect her no less, the worse she feels and the more she's terrified to tell Lena her secret, believing that Lena's done so much for her, meanwhile all she's done -- is lie. It wrecks Kara. And her anger issues start to rise up again, and that comes out a lot in Crisis crossover (in which our world's Lex is NOT yet present again btw), which is of increasing concern to everybody.

Post Crisis, in which Lena and Kara work together to save everybody even though they can barely even look at each other, we have these two idiots with their secrets, both struggling tremendously -- Kara with her anger and guilt, and Lena with her sadness and pain. And both with their regrets. And the rest of the group is noticing these tensions, between missions / various genre adventures.

It ramps up, until finally, shit hits the fan in a 100th episode. Lena is held hostage by someone threatening to kill her if Supergirl doesn't reveal her identity (similar to how it was in the show, but without the Mxy stuff, or at least using it better) -- Kara is fully willing to reveal herself to save Lena. She prepares to do just that, and even goes to the press conference, but just before she has to do it, her friends find a way to save Lena without the reveal needing to happen. But Kara is also nearly killed in the battle. The closest she's ever come to dying.

In the aftermath, Lena has now seen how far Kara would go to protect her -- both in terms of being willing to give up her life AND reveal her identity to the world. Lena of course forgives Kara (quietly, to herself) and decides to let Kara have her secret, even if it means they both pretend the other doesn't know, silly as it it. Alas, what she doesn't expect, at the end of the episode --

Kara reveals her identity to Lena (at Kara's place after everyone else goes home). Turns out almost losing her life made her realize she didn't want to die a coward and a liar on this front. And also, Lena not knowing put her at worse risk than knowing. And she deserves to know, so she can protect herself. So Kara can better protect her.

After/during her confession, Lena sheds a tear, and Kara starts to profusely apologize, thinking Lena is devastated by the revelation. But Lena confesses that it's tears of relief, because she's already known. She was just wondering if Kara would ever trust her enough to tell her the truth. Kara is shocked to know Lena knew, grateful she's kept the secret for her, and heartbroken to know she learned it from Lex, before killing him. She also makes it clear she didn't keep it from her because she didn't trust her, it was never about that. It was simply the belief that not telling her protected her somehow. But now she's seen that was foolish, in this case. Realizing now they've both been dumb and their secrets have done nothing but cause each other, and themselves, so much pain -- they agree: no more secrets.

And they hug it out -- because besties! Just gals being pals right?!

*eye roll*

Then the rest of 5B becomes all about Lex popping up alive, and being furious that Lena and Kara are closer than ever, and that his attempt to destroy their relatio- I mean "friendship" failed. And he comes at them harder than ever, with Lillian's help. And so on. And by the end of S5, in an epic battle, Lex is finally stopped and captured once and for all and hauled off to prison, but not before sending Kara to the phantom zone.

Lena is devastated, as she and Kara only recently had all cards on the table and were growing closer than ever, so S6A then becomes all about the super friends trying to find Kara in the Phantom Zone (with a LOT less cheesy stupidity, and a lot more focus on Kara's traumas and torture while in the PZ rather than any dumb filler crap with her dad being alive -- perhaps she sees him, but it's just a cruel illusion).

Meanwhile, Lena, at wits end, visits Lex in prison, hoping to get information out of him as to where and how they can find Kara in the PZ. But he taunts her, plays games with her, etc until finally, she tells him goodbye for good. He doesn't believe she'll be able to stay away forever, especially as long as he knows how to find Kara. But she finally sees through it all, basically tells him he's full of shit, that he has no idea how to reach Kara in the PZ, he's a liar, always has been, and his power over her is gone. She vows to find Kara on her own and to never be anything like him, as he's selfish and cruel and insane. And she finally walks away from him. And he can't believe it.

Now that she's found her inner strength, Lena is able to think more clearly, less out of anger and desperation, and thus she, Alex and the Superfriends eventually embark on an action-packed retrieval of Kara in the Phantom Zone, ultimately saving her in the mid-season finale.

The final half of the final season (6B) focuses on Kara's deep traumas experienced/re-lived in the phantom zone, as she struggles with doing her job as "perfect" Supergirl while mentally screwed up. No one really notices but Lena, because Kara hides it well. Alex is just happy her sister is back, busy planning a wedding, focusing on vigilante work, etc. And the Superfriends have lots of other issues to focus on as well. But Lena sees Kara's struggles because she knows a thing or two about trauma, and she's there for her. Especially after Alex and Kelly get married with a few episodes to go and Kara doesn't want to burden her sister, who is finally so happy.

The final episodes feature Kara facing her demons, internal and external (as villains from past seasons pop up to haunt her, as it turns out the events post Crisis brought them into this universe, and now they've come after her, and they've all got to take them down).

In the end, the show wraps up with Kara finding a level of peace she never had before, having faced the past and all she's gone through and lost, in great part thanks to having Lena by her side.

And the show ends focused on Kara, for an episode called KARA. Not focused on Lex, nor the supporting characters, not on shoe-horned cameos, nor other bs. But Kara herself, and her journey, her healing from a lifetime of loss and trauma, her relationships to her family and friends, and rediscovering that which is always going to rest deep within her soul, even if it gets a little lost sometimes...

Her unbreakable sense of HOPE.

The End.

[ripplestitchskein]

My issues with the ep, just to get them out of the way and out of my brain so I can flail in peace. Overall it was phenomenal and I have so much to unpack but off the cuff “negatives”. I use this term loosely as they are mostly just super nitpicky things that my brain got hung up on:

1. The mixing on “But I’m sure there’s someplace in your cloaca we can stick it” is so bad, and so obvious it was re-recorded it takes me out of the scene. I got sucked right back in by the ramping frenetic energy of Blitzø’s sex toy demos in contrast with Stolas’s solemnity and that feeling of everything about to crash (which was BEAUTIFULLY DONE) but it still jars me. This was my biggest issue.

2. Why was Loona the one confronting C.H.E.R.U.B? She wasn’t even there? She didn’t meet them? It was just an odd choice imo. I could understand that energy with the DHORKS agents from her but not CHERUB. I kind of wish her and Millie had swapped that role.

3. Blitzo’s confusion about the crystal, acting like he had never heard of them when he clearly has as he forced a guy to let him use his to go after Barbie. I get that it was mostly for the audience but that kind of dialogue handholding just makes it look like the writers don’t remember that he would be aware of them. I could accept that he was more blindsided by the situation than ignorant and Stolas is explaining not realizing Blitzø knows already but it didn’t come off that way, it came off as Blitzø not knowing at all and needing it explained.

4. There was something different about the animation? I can’t figure out what, something with the eyebrows I think? It was just very sharp or over contrasty compared to previous episodes. I probably wouldn’t have noticed if I had not just binged it right before viewing. That said the overall quality of the show has noticeably improved over the years, this isn’t really a negative just something I kept focusing on instead of the episode itself. Like Blitzø looked odd in some shots?

5. This one is me specific. I wish we had seen signs of the mansion being covered up earlier like in the background of the duet. Everything looks normal in the morning as we are used to seeing it and then like Stolas has moved out by that night. This is probably a deliberate choice for the themeing and symbology of the confrontation and Stolitz as a relationship and it’s super valid, I actually love the covered mirrors and furniture and especially the chandelier but my continuity brain just wished there had been some sign earlier. Like I said they didn’t do anything wrong, it’s mostly just me being like “But when did this happen?”

And that’s it. End of list. Everything else was great, my list of things I loved will be a million times longer.

[siryouarebeingmocked]

Someone recently claimed that the new Davies era of doctor who has no more wokism* than the show used to.

Now, maybe I've just changed in the past few decades, but from what I've heard of the 60th anniversary specials it does seem a tad more concentrated. Cherry-picking SPOILERS, sweeties.

- Donna got married offscreen. To what I can only assume is the last black cab driver in London.

- Her kid is trans. Specifically, non-binary, female presenting, says the wiki.** - In the next episode, we learn the Doctor is gay/bi when he thinks Sir Isaac Newton is hot. I'd smugly say this bit has no real relevance, but...the actual scene does carry the episode theme of accidentally changing reality. It's just the queer bit that seems tacked on. Though it does carry forward themes from 10s era. - Sir Zack himself is played by a half-Indian actor. It's not exactly hard to tell. I'm assuming they're running on Bridgerton logic. https://twitter.com/frozenaesthetic/status/1731332492282429950 - This episode is basically just Donna and the Doc exploring a weird location, and running into monsters, who happen to look like them. It would be a bottle episode, except for the large vfx budget. And yet ol' Rusty somehow managed to awkwardly wedge in an  progressive issue. - In the next episode, the villain explains how he's just exploiting the divisions that already exist in human society, including cancel culture. - no wait he's got a point. Jpg - This is ironic, given that Davies and/or his broadcasting house masters are pretty blatantly on the team that a) coined the word,  b) cancels people the most often, and c) defends the idea of Internet lynch mobs*** (***as long as they're left wing. If not, they're *ist "trolls", even if they're just complaining about the latest sacred cow.) Maybe the Davies was criticizing his own team. * Because the Toymaker was kind of racist back in the day (white dude dressed like a stereotypical Chinese dude), Davies made the new version a bit racist "as a callback to his original, problematic depiction back in 1966." - TVtropes, ref. DW Unleashed. On the other hand, the Toymaker also mocks and dresses as several other cultural archetypes. All the ones I've seen were white European ones. He just does this to everyone, apparently. - Toymaker also weaponizes the Spice Girls hit "Spice Up Your Life". No, I will not explain. Though I will note that a line about the "Yellow man in Timbuktu" was apparently drowned out in the episode. Probably for being a tad spicy. - One new UNIT character is a lady in a wheelchair. When the new Tardis - no, I will not explain - has a wheelchair ramp, she happily points it out. Which makes me wonder why the blue box would be so limited, considering it often deals with alien species. - Also, the same actress played a disabled Companion in the Big Finish audio dramas. I'm not sure why it was considered essential to do so in an entirely audio format, but there have been controversies over this sort of thing before (EG Artie on Glee, various racial voice acting controversies). - At this point, casting Ncuti Gatwa as 15 doesn't even register. Not really a blip on my radar. Black Doc? Whatevs. His sonic screwdriver has Rwandan words on it? So? I go to church with lots of Africans. Heck, I'm a black immigrant to ol' Blighty myself, just from the other side of the pond. Ncuti is, chronologically speaking, more British than I am. - Though given that he's Rwandan-Scottish, there may be some debate on the "British" part. - Wikipedia says the actor is pretty left-wing, but the actor seems good so far, so I'm willing to give him a sha-

Oh, come ON!

Maybe the original person speaking was comparing it to the Chibnall “history has always been a whitewash” era, which had a character who was a paper thin Trump satire. A tad ironic, when the whole point of bringing Davies, Tennant, and Tate back is to play on nostalgia.

*Tangent: that word was apparently voted  the most annoying words in English. Which is kind of hilarious if you know that it was originally created to self-describe certain progressives. And the "you can't even define that word!" meme was almost certainly ripped off from the right wing "what is a woman?" Meme. ** This is apparently because she's part Time Lord, through Donna. It seems a tad interesting to me that a few works featuring non binary characters happen to make them enby due to some sort of supernatural (Omniscient Reader) or sci-fi (SW Squadrons) influence which the vast majority of IRL enbies don't have. ...As far as I know.

[kenjakusbrainstem]

Competitive Nature (Kenjaku x Geto Suguru)

Contains: AU - Twins, twincest, frottage, handjobs, snowballing, Kenjaku being sexually manipulative.

Hello~ this was originally supposed to be a KenjakuxReaderxSuguru sandwich, but I got way too into them together to keep going. Just something about it distracted me. If people enjoy this and want more however, I'll gladly get to writing a second part and fulfill my original thought! Comment / reblog if you enjoy, cross-posted to Ao3 under the same name and shared to twitter as kenjakusbrain. Thank you for reading!

Suguru had never been one to prioritize romance, he always found himself with something more important to do. Whether that ‘something important’ was related to work or his attention demanding friend Gojo was always up in the air; Suguru just always happened to find himself too busy for any kind of dating. Strange for a handsome young man his age, but he settled with politely turning down requests for dates with any woman brave enough to approach him.

That is, until he noticed one of the newer members of the gym he frequented. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but seeing her up so early in the morning working out like he often was did interest him. Her motivation to work on herself more attractive than any physical features, it didn’t take long before Suguru had developed some small crush on her. Despite rarely sharing any words, he found himself lingering in the gym some mornings in the hope that she’d show up. 

This behavior wasn’t noticed by many, other than his twin brother, Kenjaku. The two men lived together, as the cost of living made renting a bit too expensive to do alone. Plus what better roommate than one you’ve roomed with nearly your whole life? Even if the two rarely got along, mostly coexisting in a comfortable silence unless Kenjaku decided to break it by pestering his little brother. Kenjaku being older by a few scant minutes and less than an inch taller was something he held over Suguru’s head like a trophy any time he felt like it.

By the time Kenjaku had noticed a change in his brother's routine, Suguru had already developed his small crush on the woman at the gym. They used the same gym after all, a shared interest in fitness something they had bonded over in their teenage years, but their schedules generally led to them passing each other on the way in or out. Kenjaku consistently arriving as Suguru was on his way out. 

Until Suguru began lingering. Once or twice wouldn’t have been worth noting for Kenjaku, but the frequency was ramping up at a rate that couldn’t just be attributed to sleeping in once or twice. Ever observant, it didn’t take long for Kenjaku to notice his twin brother's gaze always falling on the girl as she worked out. 

If Suguru hadn’t been so conventionally attractive, Kenjaku was sure he would have been labeled a creep already. 

Kenjaku knew however, that Suguru’s reluctance to speak with her was less likely to be out of anxiety and more likely attributed to the fact that he had never asked someone out before. His constant turning down of dates had made for a strange issue in his uncertainty on how to approach someone he found attractive. It was funny to Kenjaku, who had very little issue convincing just about any woman or man he desired to at the very least go on a date, if not fuck him. They were so similar yet so very different.

After one too many days of watching his poor little brother stare at this mystery woman, Kenjaku decided to take matters into his own hands. He would approach her himself, perhaps to inquire about a date or to just leave his number. If she found him attractive, then she would likely find Suguru attractive enough to date. They weren’t too different in appearance, Kenjaku’s hair being longer and down more often than Suguru’s which was usually firmly tied into a messy bun. The obvious difference between the two was a large, faded scar on Kenjaku’s forehead. An injury from their teenage years that only served now to make him look more mysterious to suitors.

The morning Kenjaku decided to approach Suguru’s gym crush was the same as any other morning in recent weeks. Kenjaku had entered the gym, seeing his brother jogging on the treadmill that was so conveniently in view of the cable machine she was working out on. As he walked up to her, Kenjaku noted how her plush breasts squished together nicely with every rep of her upper body workout. His brother's taste in women wasn’t so bad after all. 

A polite compliment was all it took to bring her already flushed cheeks to a darker shade of red, it seemed she wasn’t used to receiving attention like this in the gym. Kenjaku couldn’t fully understand why, her plush body looked very inviting with sweat beading on her soft skin, but he supposed it helped him in this moment so there was no reason to dwell on it. 

One smooth comment about how he was in a bit of a hurry this morning but couldn’t leave until he left his number with her was all it took to have her reaching into her pocket for a phone. Kenjaku promised he would message her at some point over the next few days so they could try and set something up soon. Her excitement wasn’t missed as he bid her farewell, turning around to leave.

He could feel the daggers from his brother’s eyes without even looking in the other man's direction. This didn’t bother Kenjaku though, seeing Suguru frustrated at him was one of his favorite things. Making eye contact with Suguru, who had sped up on the treadmill and was now fully running, Kenjaku could feel a smirk creep up onto his face. Winking at Suguru, Kenjaku continued out of the gym and back to their shared apartment. 

While he did work, today was his day off, that was just a lie that he needed to use to leave before Suguru. Kenjaku knew Suguru’s routine enough to know that on days like this, he showered at the gym before heading into work. So the two wouldn’t be seeing each other again until that night. A confrontation Kenjaku found himself excitedly awaiting.

-

As he’d expected, the text tone on Kenjaku’s phone continued to sound throughout the day. He didn’t need to check it to know that they were all likely from his brother. Each ‘ping’ sound his phone made coincided with when he knew Suguru took his breaks. There was no reason to let Suguru’s frustration distract him from spending the day to himself. His brother wasn’t as fun to tease if Kenjaku couldn’t see the look on his face. 

When he heard their front door open and then slam shut, Kenjaku was lounging on his bed reading. It seemed Suguru hadn’t had a chance to cool off while working. Kenjaku smiled to himself as he heard his brother’s stomping footsteps make their way to his door. 

Suguru didn’t knock, opening the door so quickly it would have slammed into the wall had Kenjaku’s gym bag not been in the way. Unphased by the aggressive behavior, Kenjaku smiled at his guest.

“Good afternoon, sounds like you’ve had a rough day at work with all that stomping,” Kenjaku said, voice dripping with feigned concern. Anything to get under Suguru’s skin further.

“Cut the bullshit Kenjaku, what the fuck is your problem?” Suguru was normally the more passive twin, so the bite in his question felt out of place as it left his lips.

Suguru’s reaction was overblown, he knew that, but he had been stewing all day with his thoughts. They weren’t as close as most identical twins, but they at least respected each other, or so he thought. Kenjaku knew he wasn’t one to approach women, so to watch him go after the girl he’d developed a crush on pissed him off. 

Normally, Kenjaku’s serial flings didn’t bother him. Suguru had seen many people rotate in and out of his twin’s bedroom. It was like he could have anyone he wanted, so why the hell was he going after the one person Suguru had set his sights on?

“I didn’t realize reading was such a hot button issue. What problem are you talking about?” Kenjaku spoke, sarcasm dripping from his words in a way that somehow made Suguru even more angry.

“This morning was the problem. What was that all about?”

Kenjaku closed the book he was reading and placed it on his nightstand. Though he had been thinking about this interaction for the better part of the day, he wasn’t sure what to expect from Suguru. Anger wasn’t surprising, but he hadn’t seen his brother this pissed off in a long time. On the plus side, the more emotional Suguru was, the easier he was to manipulate. A downside to being more emotional, Kenjaku thought to himself.

“You mean when I asked for that girl’s number? I’ve forgotten her name already but I’m sure she’d love to remind me,” Kenjaku said as he moved, placing his feet on the ground instead of having his legs stretched out on the bed. He remained seated, hoping that his passivity on the topic annoyed Suguru more. “I’m surprised you’re this upset, Mr. Turns-Down-Every-Date.”

Suguru’s fists clenched at his sides, he didn’t expect anything less from Kenjaku as far as knowing the woman, and he couldn’t entirely blame him for having no idea he was interested. It didn’t change the fact that he was still angry, but Kenjaku was right. He could feel the guilt of being so angry beginning to sink in, however. Though they did argue regularly it normally had the veneer of sibling’s picking at one another. They had always teased each other about things, so for him to get so upset that he wanted to lay hands on Kenjaku was shocking to Suguru in a way. It isn’t like his brother would knowingly hurt him like this, would he?

“Yes it's about her. You’re so frustrating sometimes but I suppose you’d have no way of knowing. I was trying to figure out the best way to ask for her number,” Suguru could feel the boiling in his blood subside, though the situation annoyed him.

Kenjaku tilted his head to the side, looking up at Suguru. His face was still flush with anger, but the look in his eyes seemed regretful, like he had just realized something. Kenjaku smiled, he hoped that the smile looked sympathetic to his brother. He didn’t need Suguru noticing that he was being toyed with and falling right into Kenjaku’s little plan.

“Oh? My darling little brother is finally trying to branch out and find someone to get with? How sweet, but are you sure you’re ready for that? You don’t even know if you’d be able to please her, don’t you want to make sure someone as cute as she is will be properly satisfied?” Though he was trying to feign sympathy with his expression, Kenjaku couldn’t help but tease Suguru. 

“Don’t be a pervert, I just wanted to ask her on a date. Besides you and I are the same, if you can please her I’m sure I can too,” Suguru could feel a deeper flush setting in on his cheeks as he spoke. His crush wasn’t motivated by lust entirely, but he was attracted to her. His lack of experience didn’t mean he wasn’t capable, right?

Kenjaku laughed, a light sound that almost brought Suguru back to the same level of anger from moments ago. 

“I don’t think being twins means you’re guaranteed to share the same ability to get someone off. Plus, I’m taller than you, who says that isn’t the only size difference we have? Maybe you keep turning down dates because you think you’re too small to please someone,” Kenjaku said, his words perhaps a bit more taunting than they needed to be. 

Kenjaku hadn’t intended to steer the conversation in this direction, but he was curious where it would lead. If it would just piss Suguru off more or lead to something stranger.

Suguru wasn’t sure how to respond, he hadn’t expected this kind of teasing from Kenjaku. He hadn’t received this kind of teasing from anyone else either, however. Since his dating life was nonexistent he hadn’t shared his size with anyone before, it wasn’t something he’d ever really given much thought to. It was as if he could feel the energy in the room shift, Suguru wasn’t quite sure where Kenjaku was going with this.

“Shut up, I don’t need to show people my cock to know that it’s enough to satisfy someone. What do you know anyway? I’m sure I could fuck someone better, you’re just easy,” Suguru grew more frustrated as he spoke. Kenjaku always knew just how to get under his skin and piss him off, but he knew that sex was something Suguru just hadn’t been interested in.

The smile on Kenjaku’s face changed into a smirk, something about being able to see his brother all worked up amused him more than usual. Things had always been somewhat of a competition between them, though Kenjaku supposed that was the case with most twins. The idea of turning which one of them was better at sex into a competition seemed too absurd even for him to consider, and yet Kenjaku could feel the excitement throbbing inside him at the thought. He knew he was more experienced than Suguru, so to be able to show that he was better enticed him.

“Prove it then,” Kenjaku said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Of course they would get here, of course it would become him goading Suguru into doing something they shouldn’t be doing. He’d been the instigator throughout  most of their lives, so why was this moment any different?

Suguru could feel the visible shock on his face. His eyebrows reaching up toward his hairline and his mouth agape in genuine surprise. He hadn’t expected his bursting into Kenjaku’s room to lead to this, but he supposed this shouldn’t have surprised him as much as it did. His twin always made things a competition, but more often than not Suguru found himself coming out on top. 

Against all better judgement, Suguru’s hands immediately flew to his pants, lifting up his shirt to undo the buttons on his high waisted slacks. He’d learned over years of putting up with Kenjaku that the best way to deal with one of his insane ideas was to simply humor him and get it over with. Even if this crossed more lines than Suguru had the time to think about, he felt confident that he could prove his brother wrong easily.

Kenjaku tried not to let the eagerness show on his face, though the nature of the situation they’d gotten themselves into led him to feeling eager elsewhere. He could feel himself growing slightly hard at the sight of his twin unbuttoning his pants. It was as if he were looking into a mirror, and he had to admit he did find himself sexy.

Suguru’s hands quickly unzipped his pants and reached into his boxers to pull out his soft cock. The whole situation was strange, he hadn’t expected the first person to see him like this would be his twin, or that he would be soft. He tried not to stroke himself too much as he held his cock, not wanting to get aroused accidentally in front of Kenjaku.

“A-are you going to just sit there? Too afraid to put your money where your mouth is?” Suguru stuttered as he started to speak, his attempt at taunting Kenjaku just a screen to try and keep his mind off of the absurdity of the situation. Standing in his twin brother’s bedroom with his cock in his hand.

Kenjaku chuckled to himself, it was surprisingly cute to see Suguru flustered. He stood, unsure if he was simply humoring Suguru or if this was a part of his plan all along. His sweatpants easily slipped down as he hooked his thumbs into the waistband, adjusting them enough to expose him. Kenjaku’s half hard cock hanging between the two of them, he brought his hand closer, wrapping his fingers around it.

Closing the space between them, Kenjaku stepped into Suguru’s personal space. Despite his earlier reference to being slightly taller, their hips lined up perfectly. Suguru barely had time to react to Kenjaku’s sudden closeness before the older twin crossed more boundaries than he had anticipated.

Reaching down, Kenjaku quickly took Suguru’s cock into his hand, pressing the soft flesh up against his own. If Kenjaku hadn’t already been semi erect, they would have been about the same size. 

Suguru gasped as he felt Kenjaku’s hand wrap around him, his head swimming with uncertainty and arousal all the same. He had touched himself before, but the feeling of having someone else’s hand around him made the hair on the back of Suguru’s neck stand up. Part of him wanted to step back, they’d crossed a line, but Kenjaku’s hand felt so warm. 

“Would you look at that, not quite as big as your older brother,” Kenjaku teased. Despite seeing that it was only due to arousal that he was larger, he was curious about what Suguru would say. Would he call him out? Or would he be too embarrassed to say anything? Either way Kenjaku was enjoying the rush he was getting from tormenting his brother like this.

Suguru could barely focus on what Kenjaku was saying, the blood rushing through his ears as his face flush crimson was the only sound he could hear. It was taking all of his willpower not to thrust into Kenjaku’s hand, he didn’t care about the morality of the situation anymore, that flew out the window the moment he unbuttoned his pants. He was just frozen with uncertainty, Suguru wanted to do anything that would keep Kenjaku’s hand on him for longer.

“N-not my fault you’re hard and I’m not. Doesn’t count,” Suguru choked out. Speaking harder than it should have been, with all his focus on not getting turned on right now. 

A smug grin split Kenjaku’s face, if Suguru wasn’t pulling away and slamming the door behind him on his way out, this must be an invitation. He’d stop the moment his poor little brother said no of course, as much as he loved to tease Kenjaku did want to remain as roommates with him. Suguru wasn’t wrong with his earlier words though, he wasn’t one to turn down a chance to have some fun.

“Then get hard,” Kenjaku whispered before slowly starting to stroke their cocks together. Both rested in the palm of his hand, his long fingers wrapping around Suguru’s cock while his own rubbed up against the other side.

A desperate moan slipped out of Suguru, his head falling down to rest his face on Kenjaku’s shoulder. He hadn’t thought the feeling of having another hand on his cock would be this different from stroking himself. Suguru could feel himself getting harder, he couldn’t fight it at this point. The feeling of Kenjaku’s throbbing cock next to his was exhilarating.

Kenjaku kept his pace slow, not wanting to push Suguru over the edge too quickly. He knew with lack of experience, so much at once could be overwhelming and he wanted to see how long he could drag this out for. 

The tickle of Suguru’s hair on his cheek was almost as distracting as the whimpers being muffled by his shoulder. He hadn’t expected Suguru to be so reactive, the sounds making Kenjaku harder than the sensation on his cock. Kenjaku wanted to hear what Suguru sounded like when he was pushed over the edge.

Looking between them, Kenjaku could see just how much he was affecting Suguru. His cock was fully erect, tip flushed and leaking as it rubbed up against Kenjaku’s sweatpants. 

The thought of comparing sizes had been sucked out of the room as soon as Kenjaku heard Suguru whimper, but he could easily see now that there was no contest to be had. Suguru’s thick cock twitched in his hand, next to an identically thick, leaky cock. The only difference was how much more flushed Suguru’s was, as if it matched how red Kenjaku knew his cheeks were. 

Suguru was so focused on how good this felt that he barely registered Kenjaku walking them back to his bed until Kenjaku stopped stroking him. Lifting his head from his twin’s shoulder, Suguru met Kenjaku’s eyes. He’d never seen such a lustful gaze, hungry even, and to have it directed at him made his cock throb in anticipation. Kenjaku leaned his head in, lips grazing against Suguru’s ear as he spoke.

“Let’s get more comfortable, take these off and come here,” Kenjaku whispered before letting go of their cocks.

Suguru whined as the warmth left, he couldn’t stop now when everything Kenjaku was doing felt so good. Nodding his head slowly, he pushed his slacks down to his ankles before stepping out of them. Kenjaku did the same with his own sweats before laying down on the bed. Suguru quickly followed, now eager to see where this would take them.

Not wanting to waste any time, Kenjaku grabbed Suguru by the hips and pulled him impossibly close. The friction of grinding up against one another was more intense than just resting in Kenjaku’s hand. Suguru felt himself wanting to thrust blindly against his twin but Kenjaku’s hands held him in place.

Holding Suguru still with one hand, Kenjaku slipped the arm he was laying on up in between them, wrapping his hand around their thick cocks as much as he could. Now that they weren’t standing, it was easier for Kenjaku to take both cocks into his hand, the angle trapped them against both of their stomachs. He wanted to make sure Suguru was getting more attention, so he left himself more exposed as he started to stroke them together.

Whether it was the angle or their body heat that made this position feel better Suguru didn’t know, but the way Kenjaku’s hand felt moving up and down his sensitive cock made him want to come instantly. He knew he had to keep it in though, wanting this to last longer. Suguru’s hand came up to clutch at Kenjaku’s bicep, he felt helplessly lost in the feeling of their cocks throbbing against one another.

It was easy for Kenjaku to reduce Suguru to a moaning mess from this angle, thumb pressing into the vein on the underside of his cock as he stroked them together. He could feel Suguru’s body twitch as he lingered around the head, lavashing it with attention. 

Suguru pressed his forehead against Kenjaku’s, moaning helplessly as Kenjaku toyed with his cock. It was too much for him, he felt dizzy, drunk on the feeling of his twin’s hand wrapped around them. 

Kenjaku could tell Suguru was close from the way he trembled, cock throbbing as he teased it with his hand. He wanted them to come together, or as close as he could manage. Reducing his innocent twin brother to a moaning mess was more than enough to bring Kenjaku close, but he needed something more to push himself over. Grinding against Suguru’s cock, Kenjaku moaned at the velvety soft skin of Suguru’s cock rubbing against his cock directly.

Choking on a moan, Suguru found himself unable to keep it in any longer. The added friction of Kenjaku grinding against him was too much. His grip on Kenjaku’s arm tightened as he felt himself release on Kenjaku’s hand. His hot release splashed against Kenjaku’s hand as he continued to stroke their cocks, the slick sensation making it easier for him to grind against Suguru. 

Suguru’s orgasm didn’t stop Kenjaku though, he stroked their cocks faster, knowing that he was close too. Suguru’s moans turning more desperate as Kenjaku’s pace increased. He could hear himself babbling, begging Kenjaku to slow down, all this pleasure was too much for him. 

The hand on Suguru’s hip found its way into his hair, quickly pulling his head back and exposing his neck to Kenjaku’s lips. Kenjaku sucked and nipped at the hot flesh as he felt himself follow Suguru over the edge, coating their cocks and stomachs in even more sticky fluid. 

As they both came down from their orgasm, Kenjaku’s hand finally slowed, letting go of their spent cocks. Pulling his mouth away from Suguru’s neck, Kenjaku quickly lifted his come-covered hand to his lips, licking some of their mixed fluids into his mouth. 

Suguru watched, eyes dilated with pleasure still as his twin diligently sucked their release off his fingers. It was something he wouldn’t have thought of, had he not been watching Kenjaku do it right in front of him. Curious, Suguru leaned forward and licked the back of Kenjaku’s hand to get a taste for himself. Before the taste could even register on his tongue though, the hand was ripped out from between them.

Leaning in, Kenjaku pressed his lips to Suguru’s in a sloppy kiss. Tongue slipping into Suguru’s mouth to share the flavor of their come. Even though the kiss was messy it was slow and soft, not like the competition that led them here. When the taste of their release was gone, Kenjaku pulled away, admiring the flushed look on his twin's face.

“Maybe after some more practice, you’ll be ready to start finding someone,” Kenjaku teased, mind already filling with thoughts of guiding Suguru through fucking someone, perhaps the woman from the gym that had started this thing. He was eager for whatever experiences their future held.

[agentsnickers]

Spot and race in the star wars au? (Also big congratulations on the anniversary)

Race doesn't usually get hurt on missions, but when he does it's always more complicated than just an injury. Once, he'd twisted his ankle and it led to him stranded alone on a moon with the ISB agent who'd been tracking them.

Today, he's coming home with a little head trauma, a little emotional trauma... and also he's about eighty percent orange.

He doesn't know what was in that fountain - dye, or something water-adjacent that happens to turn everything it touches orange - but he had wound up soaked to the skin and mottled orange except for his left arm and shoulder. His clothes are orange or orange-tinged now, his skin save for the aforementioned arm is orange, his hair is orange -

"Oh, aren't you a sight," Spot says before he's even walked all the way down the Ghost's ramp.

"I don't want to talk about it," says Race.

"His clothes are a lost cause, and we haven't had much luck getting it off of his skin either," Davey reports anyway.

Spot hisses through his teeth, sympathetic. "Why do things like this always happen to you, Racer?"

"I wish I knew," Race replies. He pushes past Spot. "I'm going to find something else to wear. I was afraid to change into something else of my own, in case this rubs off onto them and ruins something else."

"But Rebellion-issue you have no qualms over ruining?" Spot says, trailing behind him.

"Never."

They walk to the quartermaster in silence, after that, and back up to the room on base that the two of them technically share, for all that Race rarely sleeps off of the Ghost.

"You change," says Spot, nodding toward the door. "I'll be right back, I want to ask Niamh about something."

Race changes quickly, and it's a relief to have the orange clothes off even if the rest of him is still orange. He feels a little bit more himself. And he's happy to see that the orange doesn't rub off onto his new clothes, so even if he's orange for the foreseeable future he can wear his own clothes.

There's a tap on the door. "It's me, can I come in?"

"Yeah," Race replies.

Spot comes in, carrying a little box in one hand. He sits down next to Race on the bed-that-is-technically-his. "Give me your hand."

Race does, without question, because he trusts Spot. Spot pulls a tissue - no, a wipe, it's damp - out of the box and dabs it against Race's hand and, miraculously, the orange starts to fade.

"Where'd you get that?" says Race. "Nothing we tried on the ship worked at all."

"It's makeup remover," Spot says without looking up from Race's hand. "Niamh's. She always says this can take off anything, so I figured it was worth a shot."

"Thank her for me," Race says.

"Thank her yourself, I think you'll need to buy her some more after we're done here," Spot replies.

They work together to get the exposed parts of Race's skin clean - he'll get the rest on his own, thanks - and it's oddly intimate for how strange an activity it is. Their room doesn't have a mirror, so Spot is getting Race's face which, again - oddly intimate. They're very close together, and Spot is concentrating very hard on Race's face, and -

"All done," Spot says, leaning out of Race's personal space for the first time in almost an hour. He tugs on one of Race's curls. "Pity I can't do anything about this, though. You don't make a bad redhead, but it doesn't feel like you."

Race flushes. "Guess I'm just Al's brother 'stead of Charlie's for a while, 'till it fades on its own or I get a haircut."

"You'd be an improvement over his real ones," says Spot.

"Right," says Race. "You're sure it doesn't look bad?"

Spot tugs on Race's curl again. "No, not bad, like I said. Just - I like your hair, it suits you."

"Oh," Race says. He is definitely very, very red now.

Spot stands suddenly. "Anyway, I'll, uh - I'll leave you to get the rest of the orange off, yeah?"

Before Race can respond, he's gone.

[bwabbitv3s]

I have some real pointed thoughts after listening to episode 22 of Worlds Beyond Numbers - Bring Them to Me. So if you are not caught up come back later. If you are go ahead and keep reading.

Okay is everyone caught up on episode 22? If not then you are here for the tea and don't mind spoilers. So I have some very strong thoughts on episode 22 and it is about the bridges that Ame is burning down and does not seem to even realize she is doing so. If she had been treated the way she has treated Suvi a fight would already have broken out and the friendship ended.

As to me if one of my friends that had previously not listened to me when I told them we need to wait before acting. That if we don't I will get in a lot of trouble and help was on the way this is more than we can safely handle on our own, only to be ignored. Which caused a huge issue, killed many people, and got me in a ton of trouble. Then turned around and did the same exact thing again? Only this time after promising to wait the two hours at most we needed to get help on the issue. That is a huge bridge of my trust they have burned down and will never gain back. They have proven to not care about me and only themselves. Friendship over you are now an acquaintance at best and must not be given any trust as you will break it on a whim, damn the consequences.

TWO HOURS! That is all that was asked for and Ame said yes to it!She could wait the two hours to get conformation of the risk or even just the already agreed on help to get her back to Toma. They were nearly done with the waiting too Suvi asked Ame to just wait where they were until Steel got back to them about what she had learned. She had been ordered to wait there and that orders are something rare and she can't break it.

I feel like this is a self fulfilling prophecy happening. Of course the Citadel is not going to approve Suvi going with Ame if every time they are together their is massive destruction and loss of life! First with the two Great Spirits freed and the hundred people that died from that. Now a giant magical transportation bonfire out of control bigger than the tallest building in a busy transportation hub? No shit they are going to say no, keep away from following the Witch of disaster around.

I mean with how things are going she is a huge danger to the regular people she is exposed to! I would be surprised if she is not banned from the Citadel and not allowed back in. They treat her injuries, offer her help, and she repays it by causing that to happen!? Those people working the fire were going to be trapped or lost and effectively dead because of her. How many more are going to be swallowed up by the fire and lost or potentially flung to the far corners of the world alone, right as a war is ramping up, before it is gotten under control.

I knew the second Suvi got rejected by Ame to listen to her for a moment and not just run off it was going to be bad for their friendship. How bad we won't know till that bridge stops burning down.

[baileys-3]

CHAPTER 22 NOW ONLINE on AO3

Sneak Peak:

Tim knows that this wasn't the smartest move of his life. He knows he should have controlled himself. Had to control himself. He knows that she had the situation under control. He knows that Nyla could have intervened too. But he also knows that he can't just stand there when someone talks to Lucy like that. Not under any circumstances. Because that would go against every fiber of his being. And he's only human.

He's still got a grip on this big moron, holding him tighter than he should. He forces himself to open his fingers a bit. But just a bit. It might hurt a little. Just not too much. Not so much that he leaves marks that could cause issues if this idiot decides to push for an investigation. He doesn't think so, even though he wasn't gentle, but he didn't necessarily cross a line. But there's no need to provoke it unnecessarily now.

The rather fresh morning air brings him down a little. He hands the suspect over to Aaron, who is standing right outside the entrance to the furniture store and is being briefed by the someone from nightshift. He went inside because he knew Lucy was there and he just wanted to catch a glimpse of her. Hoping to share a few private words with her before they went their separate ways again.

He did see her. He wasn’t able to talk to her though.

"To the station and into custody." He lets go of the arm and must tighten and relax his fingers for a moment. Then he looks for Sergeant Willowy, who is the supervisor in charge of the nightshift and from whom he is supposed to take over the assignment. So that the nightshift can go home. The dayshift will manage the rest.

He finds her shortly afterwards on this curved ramp or staircase or whatever you call it on the second floor. The furniture store really does look like it's been hit by a hurricane. How just eight people can produce such a chaos is a mystery to him. On the way here, he learned from Aaron that "The Horny Ones" - who call themselves that, by the way? - are a popular group among young people. And have hundreds of thousands of followers. They have already carried out many stupid campaigns and have made negative headlines several times. But they have never been prosecuted. As Tim surveys the situation, that's all about to change. He now has to oversee the operation and coordinate everything else.

He deliberately keeps his distance from Lucy because there will certainly be enough gossip after his performance. There's no sense in adding fuel to the fire or providing the gossipmongers and rumor mill with even more ammunition. Regardless, he keeps an eye on her most of the time from the corner of his eye. Their eyes frequently meet, but Lucy also understands that it's wiser to maintain some distance now. Yet, another chance to talk to her has slipped away, as if someone is conspiring against them.

Shortly afterwards, he sees Lucy leaving the scene. Their eyes connect once more, exchanging a brief nod as she vanishes through the doors of the store. And that's all there is to it. After that, he concentrates on his job. The day drags on, it’s one of those days that’s filled with witness statements, reports, and paperwork. He despises paperwork. Although he can hand in most of it, he still has to review and sign everything again.

He doesn't even make it in time for his lunch break, which means that he can’t even enjoy his usual exchange of messages with Lucy. By the time he finally has a few free minutes, she is already sleeping and has switched off her phone. He's aware that his mood isn't the best at the moment, making him even more reserved than usual. Fortunately, it seems like Aaron has picked up on this and surprisingly gives him space most of the time.

He sends a text to Lucy saying that he thinks it would be better if they were careful and keep away from each other in the station during shift change. Because, word has already spread about his actions, but not in a way that implies anything inappropriate. Most of his colleagues are aware of their friendship, but they don't really know the details of Tim's connection with Lucy. It's just common knowledge that Tim Bradford tends to be overly protective when it comes to Lucy Chen.

[shurisneakers]

bridges break (v)

summary: steve shuts himself away. you pull him along on a trip of a lifetime in an attempt to reconnect. great plan! except there’s one big secret he’s keeping from you that could change the course of your entire relationship, and there’s no greasy stack of diner pancakes in the country big enough to hide behind.

(road trip!au, best friends to lovers)

Warnings: angst, mental health issues and disorientation, ptsd, swearing, mentions of death. lemme know if i missed anything and I’ll tag it.

A/N: hello everyone !! i have been going through a bit of a depresh which is why i haven't responded or updated but i shall forge through. this godforsaken series demands to be seen. thank you for your kindness on this fic. i want to throw up u are all so nice

Previous Part || Series Masterlist

Tip #77: Stay away from landscape fabric!

Steve lets his eyes scour over the words, and then again.

He glances down at the picture and stares at it for a little over ten seconds before his eyes go back up to re-read the words.

He reads them again, and then again.

Leaves shake gently, like they're chastising him. He'd already spent ten minutes on Tip #43 of Gardening: 4427 Brilliant Tips & Ideas thinking of nothing, and now Tip #77 about the state of the world and his noticeable absence in it.

There's a tension in the air, a lingering awkwardness.

Your fingers nimbly card through another page of your book. A breeze blows and a soft exhale escapes past your lips.

Tip #77: Stay away from landscape fabric!

Steve tries his hand at it again and once it finally registers, the picture makes sense.

It'll stick around in his head for as long as he can remember, with the other 76 tips and a million other details he'd never cross again. It helps most times. HYDRA bases were easier to track down after a single glance at a map, but he also spent 5 excruciating minutes remembering what it felt like for the Arctic ice to crystallise his blood when Bucky stuck his cold metal arm down his shirt for fun.

A curse to remember.

Steve clenches his eyes shut tightly. 

He shouldn't feel that way about his abilities. Shouldn't be ungrateful for what he was given. He forces himself to remember that he’s long moved on, spent so long quelling the simmering anger in him. But it nags at the back of his head that it's purely sinful to do so many things he does, think all the things he does. He does it anyway. Whose God would spare another second to damn him when there was already a place for him in hell?

Grass pokes out from under the blanket you've spread. It's soft and prickly and the moisture seeps through the fabric. The tree you're under overlooks a lovely part of the park, nothing in the distance for as far as he can see other than more trees over the valley.

His skin on his ankles itches from the burn of the sun, and so he readjusts.

Sitting on the ramp of the quinjet, looking onto rolling hills with Sam was, in spirit, similar. The platform was cold and hard and ridged, and Sam's laugh is still luminous as ever. The moon curtained by clouds is captured so neatly in their eyes; spending the night here in the jet they managed to finally break doesn't seem so bad.

Tomorrow was another day, another border to cross and other bodies to chase but for now, Sam's talking about the cartwheel that landed him and Sarah in the emergency room, and Nat's joining them the next day, unfortunately missing the story of a lifetime.

He wondered what colour her hair would be then. It changes like the wind.

He likes it. 

Steve's back tenses on instinct, even though there is nothing to protect himself from. The tree is good support and there's a throw pillow separating him from the ground. Still, his muscles have a faint ache in them, the same as the morning after the sun rose over the hills and through the entrance of the quinjet left opened a crack.

A curse to remember.

"What’s wrong?" you ask quietly.

He snaps out of it, shaking his head and straightening up. “Nothing. Just zoned out for a second.”

"Flashback?" 

Steve pauses. "No. Didn’t get much sleep." 

You’ve turned away, and so he misses the scrunch between your eyebrows.

Tip #78: Herbs? Don't Mint If I Do!

Tip #78: Herbs? Don't Mint If I Do!

Tip #78: Herbs? Don't Mint If I Do!

He looks down at the picture. Looks back up at the words. Mint.

"I'm sorry."

Your eyes flit towards him and quite possibly the umpteenth apology he had given in the last twenty-four hours.

"I know," you reply slowly.

"How do I make it up to you?" he asks again.

You don't reply.

Steve wonders when the last time was when he read a book that had pictures and still registered nothing.

You turn another page, but this time the novel lowers. You close it, using your finger as a makeshift bookmark to hold your place.

Steve hopes for a hum or a song, but none follows as you stare out blankly into the open.

He's about to ask if you're okay, if something's wrong even though he has a feeling that something definitely is when you shift forward.

Away from him.

Away from him.

Steve doesn't dare to look from the corner of his page, careful not to give too much away, but his stomach drops heavily.

Until he feels a certain pressure and your head shifts to lie on his lap. Not facing him, but still there. Not away from him.

His hand twitches, hovers even, for a few seconds before his fingers stroke over your head.

You let out a small sigh. Steve continues, waiting for any inclination on your end for him to stop. It never comes.

And while he sees you open your novel again, he can hear you thumbing the pendant that hangs from your neck. He thought you would have taken it off by now, thrown it, incinerated it. But he can hear the minuscule clink of metal against the chain and it's a sign that maybe, things aren't as hopeless as he thinks.

There is silence and the sky breezes by. The moisture seeps through the blanket. Your head rests on his lap.

He picks up his magazine again.

Tip #79: Fallen leaves: Mulch Ado About Nothing!

_______

The wind whips around the car. His elbow leans out, other hand on the steering wheel.

The radio jockey talks, laughs obnoxiously at a corny pun his co-host cracks. Steve had met them before; they hosted the celebrations at Arlington several years ago for Memorial Day.

They were half decent, if a little talkative, but he didn't mind.

It served well to distract him. After all, Arlington was where Steve was buried.

A corny reference to a Don McLean line about him, and a proposal to have him pick the songs to kick the next morning's show off, and Steve almost stops looking in the direction where he was informed Bucky's empty casket was lowered into the ground way back then.

That day, Steve was in a bombed-out bar in London. The skies that bled as he tried to drink himself to oblivion, were now bright blue overhead. It was a rush to get rid of the bile that rose to his throat as his oldest friend's tombstone flashed through his mind.

The stone was long gone, of course. After Steve's rebirth and Bucky's return, empty coffins were removed. Not to make way, but just out of respect.

Freshly dug up earth, though. Freshly dug up earth had a scent of its own.

Unfortunately, he'd buried the ghosts of friends who never made it back after a battle far too many times. And after the last time it happened, he isn't quite sure he'd be able to go to a cemetery again.

Not when he knows her body is somewhere on a planet he couldn't reach. Not when he knows that unlike Bucky or him, she isn't getting a second chance.

“Your side of it,” she responds. "I could read about the battle anywhere. What I’m interested in is your side, how you’re dealing with it.”

Steve wants to smile, bitterly almost, at the fact that she only knows what they wanted everyone to know. But he couldn’t tell her that either.

"I deal with it just fine, I think," he says distantly.

"What do you mean by just fine?"

If this was what one on one therapy was like, it's a wonder why he doesn't care for it much.

"Well--" he blinks-- "I'm here, aren't I?"

She stares at him a little while longer. Steve glances at the clock.

"Are you happy?"

It takes him a second to realise the hosts aren't speaking because you've changed the channel to something far less grating. How far he's gotten since he spaced out, he has no idea. He's only glad it's a straight road for the next few miles.

"How much longer till the motel?" he asks, keeping his eyes trained ahead.

"A fair bit," you answer, looking at the navigation you had open on the phone. "You want to stop for a while?"

"No, just checking," Steve says. "I'm good."

You nod silently, lending your attention to the world outside the window again.

"I hope it doesn't rain."

If anything, it makes his eyebrows raise slightly when you continue to talk. He finds himself not caring if it’s about the weather, the stupid advertisement running on the radio right now, or even the fucking space titan. As long as you were talking to him, you could speak about any damn thing in the world.

"Don't think it will." He cranes his neck to get a better look at the sky.

It wasn't the bright blue it had been that morning, but it wasn't entirely overcast.

"Better not. We got a landmark coming up that I've been dyin' to get to," you mumble.

"What is it?"

"You'll see."

"Is it a world's largest something?" Steve asks, dry tease optimistic in his tone but still cautious. "World's largest mothball? Stroller?"

"Patience is a virtue, Cap'n." You tsk to yourself. "You'll see it when we get there."

Steve catches a bit of your sight, turning just as a faded smile grows on your face.

"But if you're tired, we can just crash for the rest of the day."

"Can't bail on me now, you got me all excited for your mystery landmark."

There's a small scoff that leaves you, half a laugh. "Whatever you want, Rogers."

He keeps driving. Even as the noon slips into the humidity-gifted heat of a late afternoon and he wipes a bead of sweat from his forehead. The radio plays indie rock and summer feels like it stretches on for eternity.

______

“Jesus.”

“You know-" you squint- “I don’t think Jesus was nineteen feet tall."

Steve is inclined to agree.

"Or that he held a hotdog like a child.”

That even more so.

"Woulda made church a lot more interesting," he says wryly.

The Paul Bunyon statue--deliberately misspelt to avoid a legal charge-- stands proudly and, dare he admit it, rather dauntingly. Michelangelo’s David could only dream of achieving the level of artistry this enterprise possessed.

It was a cultural landmark, a must-see on this trip according to several websites. Though Steve initially couldn’t see why… he kind of could.

He has his hands on his waist as he looks up. “Well, we can cross it off the list.”

A bird caws from overhead, and a car drives down the street. Unlike the both of you, it only slows to capture a picture before carrying on its way.

“Guess we can.” You bring your palm shielding your eyes from the rays of the sun.

The longer he looks at it, the more it begins to morph into something beautiful. Ugly, but beautiful, in its own amusing, absurd way.

It's ugly.

It's there.

“You want a picture?” Steve finds it hard to stop staring at the stupid smile smirk the strong-jawed man had like he was proud of his wiener infant.

“Hell yeah.”

_______

Steve glances at you through the rearview mirror. He only catches a glimpse of your forehead, the rest of you hunched over your phone.

It drags through his chest again; the same, scraping rawness that had him opening his mouth before he could stop himself.

"If you're gonna apologise again, Steve, I swear--"

He shuts his mouth, lips pressing into a thin line before he compounds another topic.

A bead of sweat rolls down your skin, and he turns up the AC.

The beat of silence rests nicely between you both before he asks,

"So these weird things-- giant shoes, and whales and whatnot-- they're the whole niche for this trip?"

You look up from trying to connect your phone to the car Bluetooth, an attempt that had been fruitless the last few times you'd tried.

"Yeah. People've made whole careers out of it." You fumble with a dial. "It's got a real dedicated fanbase."

Small talk was good. Just surface conversations but he was thrilled by every second.

"Have you ever road tripped before?"

Steve keeps his attention on the road. He's come to see that some of them tended to run off into gravel, dead ends or simply dirt tracks. The signs weren't always right, and the maps you vehemently defended were also outdated on several occasions.

"Does running from law enforcement count?" he asks in return.

You narrow your eyes at him. "Were you listening to good music while it was happening?"

"Sometimes," he says. "Other times it was Sam’s rendition of Inner City Blues for 3 hours."

"Then it's a road trip," you decide. "Bless Sam, he knew exactly what he was doing."

"Yeah, singing into the comms in the middle of a stake out."

"It's called having fun."

Steve doesn't disagree, but he doesn't agree either.

"You've been on a road trip before?"

"One or two," you say. "Whenever my parents had time off work and my mom managed to convince my dad."

“Were they fun?”

There’s a slow down in your movement that he barely catches. 

“As much as they could be, I guess. It was fun when they’d remember we were on vacation together. Otherwise, they’d spend a lot of time just talking to each other about their own world so it was easy to forget I was there,” you reply thoughtfully. “I didn’t really have anyone to talk to, so it was kinda quiet most times.”

His grip against the steering wheel tightens, the skin on his knuckles pulsating against the pressure.

“You haven't gone since then?”

"No, my friends-- I think a few of my friends planned one a couple of years ago? We were supposed to, at least, a few of us."

"Did you ever go?" He glances at you.

"Nah," you say, short. "I wasn’t in the best place in college and by the time I got okay again, people moved on. We didn't get the chance. But I know it would have been fun, they were great."

Steve watches another dilapidated sign whiz by.

You get back to whatever buttons you were clicking, wholly ignoring the instruction manual that came with the vehicle.

"After the Battle of New York, I got a bike," Steve pipes up. "Told myself I was gonna go check out the country and everything that had changed."

You pause, finger hovering over the power button on the radio. "Did you?"

"Not really," he confesses. "Got to check out Brooklyn, but after that Fury recruited me and I was back in training for SHIELD."

"Oh.”

"I've seen some parts of the country when I was on the run," he offers. "Most of our time we spent abroad 'cause it was harder for the government to track, and there were more HYDRA bases in other parts of the world."

"Didn't you also go after the Snap?" You poke at something on the display.

He opens his mouth to reply, only for you to cut him off with a jump when the car is flooded with loud, ear-splitting conversation. The hair on his skin goes upright in an instant, breath shortening and world shifting into slow motion.

You swiftly turn down the dial to restore the peace, murmuring in quiet annoyance to yourself the entire time.

"Fuck me," you curse lightly, "I'm sorry, you were saying?"

"That was also, uh-" he forces himself to recentre "-mission-related."

"Oh, right, yeah." You facepalm lightly. "Forgot you were back only for the last two years."

He doesn't blame you. Steve had spent the first three years in and out of the state, the country-- almost the planet at times. He could count on his hand the number of times he'd snuck away to see you in between his erratic schedule.

It'd gotten easier once he finally chose to stay back in New York, but by then it wasn't his circumstances that forced him to keep away from others, but his quiet choice to stay inside a lot more.

"So I guess I'd say this is my first real road trip," Steve says.

"No pressure at all," you mutter. "Just a whole lot of empty land and tiny windmill restaurants."

He looks at you. "I think they're nice."

"You'd say that even if you didn't think so." The corner of your lips upturn.

He thinks that he probably would, but most likely not if it were anyone else.

"Fuc- finally." You sigh loudly, dropping your hand and settling back into your seat and grabbing your phone. "Any suggestions?"

Steve shakes his head. "Your choice."

You shrug, scrolling through your phone before an idea hits you and you quickly type in the title.

Leaning back, you look out the window as the car slowly fills with the familiar tune of Inner City Blues.

____

Steve's sketchbook is nearly twenty pages into his journal-sketch book hybrid. At this rate he'd be forced to get a new one before two weeks were done.

A corner of the page has a piece of Arlington on it, a singular tombstone with indecipherable writing. Somewhere else is his best attempt at recreating the mastery that was the Bunyon statue.

Most of the page was just filled with what you saw today, what he did and what he ate. He didn't make much of an effort at journaling, as substantiated by his pathetic attempts earlier that left behind half-finished sentences and open-ended thoughts. When he did try, it was simply a skeleton of the day. Nothing interesting.

Steve runs his eyes over the filled sheet. He notices it does nothing to him. He feels nothing about the scribbles and pencil scratches. 

Until there’s confusion. 

In the corner, there’s a recreation of a familiar scene. The stores at the back and the road bear a scary resemblance to the original. The man sits at the front with his smoke, white shirt and hunched over.

Edward Hopper’s Sunday looks back at him in black and white, and Steve doesn’t even remember when he put it there. 

But his eyes were wrong.

Steve erases it lightly, careful not to rip the page. Makes sure there are no smudges or strays.

The tilt of his brow is perfect, the scorn on his lips is harsh. Yet, when Steve looks at him, he doesn’t feel like his soul is being ripped out of his chest. Doesn't feel the drop in his stomach.

He can’t get the look in his eye right.

Steve pulls the book away from him slightly, letting himself really look at the image. There is no change. He feels nothing.

He turns his stare back to the wall.

Across the drywall, he knows you're there in a mirrored room. Your pacing stopped a while ago but your keyboard clicking still came in sporadic bursts.

There's a sudden sense of urgency in him. It makes his muscle twitch and his nausea set in his ribs.

Something-- he needs to do something now.

He clenches and unclenches his fist, even taking a step off the bed to shake off the sudden angst. But the feeling perists and so he exhales deeply, and it comes out shaky.

Checking the clock to make sure it was not too late, he picks up his phone instead for a quick search.

___

Steve knocks on the door, thrice, before letting his hand drop. It finds its way back to his pockets in nervousness, not before consciously being dragged away from where his belt buckle would be if he wasn't wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt.

The entrances to the double-story building all overlooked the car park. Some of the brown imitation wood paint had peeled away from the banisters and one of the lights overhead didn't turn on. But all in all, it was a pretty good place; clean with working facilities--

He hears the chain unlink from the door before you tug it open. 

"Hey," Steve says.

"Hi." You'd changed out of the clothes you were wearing during the day into something more comfortable and were looking at him in mild concern.

"I know you said we'd do takeaway, but there's this diner down the road with an arcade," Steve tests, letting it sit for a second before asking, "Maybe we could get dinner? Check out the games, if you're up for it?"

Your eyes flicker behind his figure to the moon in thought, before back at him.

"You gonna wear that?" you ask.

Steve glances down at his outfit. "Yeah?"

"Cool," you say, leaving the door open as you go to grab your stuff. "The likelihood of me saying yes depended on that."

"I could just throw on a tuxedo," Steve calls out.

"Close the door on your way out," you holler back.

He holds back a grin when you shut the door behind you and lock it, tucking the key into your pocket.

You mention towards the staircase that was too small to host the both of you at once with a nod of your head.

"Lead the way, Rogers."

_________

You don't say much on the walk over, nor when he buys an obscene amount of credits for the two of you to share.

Even the first game or two is spent in huffs in the form of laughter and quiet questions as to where to go next.

It takes nearly half an hour and him beginning to think it isn't a very good idea at all, before a grin makes its way onto your face at your first big win of the night.

"I don't care how close we are," you start, "I will wreck you at pinball. I will."

Steve's eyebrows lift as he glances at you. "We'll have to see about that."

"Careful now,” you warn and he can tell you're putting an effort in. "You're talking to the all-time arcade champ here."

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but you just lost embarrassingly at racing a fake car.” 

You scoff, “It’s called a pity loss. Felt real bad for you. It’d be like beating my grandfather at a running race.” 

Steve neatly tosses a ball into the basket. The score overhead had been updated to show his new record.

“Jealousy,” he states simply. “How sad.”

You stifle a laugh, picking up the next shot and obtusely missing the basket. It breaks his perfect streak. 

He gives you a sidelong glance in amusement. “I still win.”

The machine corroborates his statement. 

“Whatever,” you dismiss playfully. “PacMan’s the real test of skill.”

He wordlessly gestures for you to go ahead. If nothing else, the bleeps and bells chiming from different slot machines seemed to lift your spirits considerably.

Steve presses the coins into the back and steps away as you crack your knuckles. “Gonna make this game my bitch.”

He’s never played before, so he’s got nothing to refute you on. You, on the other hand, do seem like you’re gonna make good on your promise.

"Have at it."

Or maybe you were losing. He couldn’t really tell what the point was. He just stands watching for several minutes.

“So,” you bring up, eyes reflecting the light from the screen. “What'd you actually wanna talk about?"

Steve peers at you in mild surprise. 

“You brought me here because it’s easier for me to talk when I have something to do with my hands,” you continue casually.

“That’s not the only reason.” 

“I know,” you concede. “But you did, didn’t you? Want to talk about something?”

"Yeah," Steve replies carefully. “Wanted to apologise. Maybe a do-over from that breakfast, if that was alright.”

"Figured as much." Your lip twitches as your character narrowly avoids running into a ghost. 

His smile comes back dry. "How?"

"You barrelling towards my door sorta gave it away. I could tell."

"You still said yes," he points out.

"As opposed to what, saying no and turning down free dinner?" You crack a small smile, immediately dropping when you see one of the ghosts round the corner to where you were. “We’ve been friends for too damn long, Steve. I don't want to let it go to shit over us not having a decent conversation. You mean too much to me.”

His heart jumps to his mouth. He swears that you could hear the audible exhale he just let out over the almost irksome beeping.

But now came the difficult part. What the hell does he actually tell you about? Time heist? Therapy? The stupid dream? List?

"I'm sorry," he says stupidly again. "I-"

Almost like you can hear his brain combusting, you ask, 

“You want me to start?” 

“Yeah, please,” he replies softly. 

"Okay.” Your nose scrunches up when you lose a life. "When you said it was different-- what'd you mean by that?"

He sees you get right back into the game, and thinks it’s probably good that you’re not watching him directly. It doesn’t feel like he’s under observation. 

"It feels like I just got out of the ice again," Steve says. "Doesn't feel like this place is for me. First time around, I was forced to accept it, y’know? Find something, or make something for myself. I don't know if I ever did, but I didn't have any other choice. This time, going and coming back, it’s like I-"

"Have another option.”

"Yeah." Steve watches your character pick up another bigger dot. "Watch out."

"Got it," you confirm lowly, taking another turn to narrowly miss one. "And you're going back how? The time travelling thing?"

"Yeah," he says. "I know there are more Pym Particles now that the doctor's back."

"And the machine?"

"Still functional. Pepper's got it with the rest of the old stuff."

You watch the little circle get killed again when the old joystick doesn't respond to your command, but there is no reaction on your face.

"You'd be safe?" your voice comes through instead.

Steve looks at your reflection in the screen. "I would."

"Okay."

You dive back in for the last round after your acknowledgement. You get killed in a much shorter time than the first two rounds.

"Boo," you say.

He silently hands you another quarter.

You take it from him, inserting it into the machine. "Don't you want to have a go?"

Steve observes at the starting screen of the game. "It'd just be embarrassing for the both of us," he decides on.

"One more game and then we hit Street Fighter 2."

He doesn't know what that is either, but it sounds more up his alley.

"D'you sleep at all these days?" you begin again, taking your time just as you had. "You've been looking a lot more tired recently."

"I do." He got three hours of sleep last night, a whopping two more than his usual. "You?"

"So and so." You shrug. "It'll get better."

He hears you at night sometimes, walking up and down across in the adjacent room. 

You’re left in long, painful silence. It doesn’t take too much to realise how much he really fucking hates this. Not the silence, he’d sit in it comfortably with you for hours, but the awkwardness. The distance between you both when you were right there in front of him.

"What are you thinking about?"

You peer at him quickly and he holds it before you break the stare to go back to the screen when your little guy dies again.

"A bunch of stuff," you reply, restarting the round. "I just don't think I have all the questions right now. There's a lot I wanna ask, but there's only a few I can think of right now, and I don't want it to be something that I regret later."

"Anything it is, I'll answer. Whenever." You could throw even mumbled, garbage words out there and he'd piece it together like he had in the past. "But know that you don't have to sugar coat it. You can tell it to me straight."

Your jaw tightens until you force it to relax. The machine beeps get faster and fast with each passing moment, but he's all but entirely turning it out.

"It fuckin’ sucked that you didn’t tell me, Steve," you say steadily. "It’s a huge decision and I wish you had told me earlier. Like– even a text would have worked.”

“I’m sorry," he breathes. "I can't take it back, I know. I'm really fucking sorry, I should have told you earlier. Just tell me what to do-- I'll do it. I'll try to make up for it. I'm sorry. I really am."

You look him in the eye, not breaking contact for a second with your eyebrows knitted together.

“Steve, the biggest issue isn't that you didn't tell me. I know I'll get over that. Like yeah, it was-- is-- absolute shit for a while, but I’d get over it eventually.” You let go off the stupid joystick to spin towards him.

“But you’re leaving. You’re going away. I spent two years talking to you through voicemails and those stupid, secret notes and the fact that we might not even have that anymore?”

You look at him helplessly. He swallows back his guilt, fresh and heavy in his throat.

“How do I just do that?” you finish, lips pursing inwards.

Nine years of knowing you and this was the first time he’d seen you look at him the way you were. Even when he was on the run, you were sure he'd be back. There was no lapse of faith, no questioning. But now-- he doesn't know what to say because he had nothing.

“I’ll find a way to stay in touch,” Steve trails off. He isn’t sure how he’d do it. He doesn’t know. “I will. There has to be some way."

You look like you don’t believe him. He knows you don’t have reason to.

"We've always found a way," There's a pained smile on his face that is replaced with something more determined.

"You wanted to make it up to me?" you bring up again and his ears perk up. "I have a few things."

"Anything."

"No more keeping stuff from me. Not like this." You breathe out.

He holds up a hand to his chest and prays his heart doesn't burst into flames that very second.

"And no more voicemails," you continue. "I've had enough of them. Find another way."

"No more voicemails," he swears. "I promise you.”

That he could do. He could make good on his promises. That's what he was still trying to do.

“Better not.” Still, a sadness pulls at the corner of your lips, turning it upwards. “Or else you’re gonna have a bigger problem when I travel back in time to kick your ass.”

A laugh escapes him against the tense atmosphere. "I bet I will."

"You'll have to visit." You hold a finger up in a vague threat. "Don't care how you do it. You have to be there for my birthday, and the holidays and-- and St Patrick's Day, I don't know."

"I'll visit," he holds his hand up in an oath. "You'll be beggin' me to go back, you'll be so tired of me."

It makes you feel a little better, he can tell by the slight relief on your face. Fuck, he'd visit six months out of the year, if he had to. He'd figure out time travel on his own with a cord phone and a typewriter.

"And you need to invest in all the right places and save up a bunch of money and get it to me. Somehow. So I can retire early"

"Apple, right? What about the horse thing-- the Derby?"

"Yeah." You give him the first real smile he's seen all evening. "Apple and the Derby."

"Done," he announces. "You got it."

The game cries behind you when your last life is taken. You turn to it, sighing at the loss of your quarter.

"Want another one?"

"No, we've got other games to play. This shit's rigged against me anyway," you reply, looking around. "Before that-- one last thing."

"What?"

"I gotta be there," you say. "The day you leave. I wanna be there. No disappearing without a trace."

"Of course," he says softly. "I wouldn't do that to you."

"Good." You nod, a little more determined. "Okay, then. Dance Dance Revolution next."

Steve watches you turn on your heel and make your way towards the machine, completely discounting the fact that it was not the game you had initially named.

This was hardly the end of this conversation, he knows for a fact. And hopefully, he'd have answers for when you did ask.

“You good?” you call from a few feet away, hand on the railing of some new contraption with bright, flashing lights.

Steve nods, shoving his hands into his pocket. “I’m driving tomorrow.”

"You drove today," you remind.

Steve shrugs as he makes his way towards you and the supposed dance machine. "I know."

“Okay, Rogers.” You give him a small smile, shaking your head lightly. "Whatever you want.”

[racinginchid3nt]

Happier Than Ever | Part Two

Y/N x Pierre Gasly, Y/N Best Friend x Lance Stroll

Whirlwind romances with professional athletes certainly have their perks, or do they?

Inspired by Happier Than Ever - Billie Eilish

Warnings: smut, 18+

Previous | Next

————————————————————————

The club lights strobed throughout the room. You had on your favorite clubbing dress, the thin straps of the black mini dress crisscrossed over your back. You paired it with knee high boots, one of Pierre’s favorites. Despite it all, he was content to hang back in the booth with his friends, talking animatedly in French with Charles.

He had barely spoken to you all day, even after the race had ended. Walking back to the booth from the bar, you settled in his lap. He gave your thought a squeeze but otherwise said nothing. You made small talk with some of the other drivers and Y/N Best Friend. You had put back more than a few drinks, and wanted to dance. Grabbing Pierre’s hand as you stood, you tugged gently trying to bring him with you. He brushed you off, patting your hip.

Looking at Y/N Best Friend, you grabbed her hand instead and the two of you made your way to the dance floor alone. The liquor flowing through you both had you pulling her close. Pierre was blatantly ignoring you, but you had a few tricks up your sleeve. You and Y/N Best Friend had always been fans of going out, but drinks weren’t cheap. The two of you had learned early on how to get drunk on other people’s dime, having fun without hampering your uni student budgets.

Pulling her into you, you locked eyes. With just one look she understood. As the two of you danced, you got as close as possible. You felt the silk fabric of her dress rub across your body, the smell of your perfumes mixing. It took you back a few years in time, getting lost in the performance of it all. As one song blurred into two and two into five you forgot why you were doing this and instead took yourself back to all the fun memories and drunken shenanigans you and Y/N Best Friend had gotten into.

The songs shifted from EDM to R&B and you felt a hand on your thigh. The familiar smell of Pierre’s cologne washed over you and you smiled. Dancing with your boyfriend and your best friend while getting drunk in a club, no cares at all, was a great way to spend a Sunday night. After a few more songs, Pierre leans into your ear.

“That was rude.”

“What was rude?”

“You know exactly what you were doing.” He says.

A smirk pulls across your face and you left out a soft laugh.

“I surely don’t. Actually, I’m thirsty.”

Grabbing both of their hands you drag them back to the table. Pouring yourself a glass of water, you sip on it, leaning into Pierre. You’re pulled out of your flirting by a comment asking about sharing something with the group. Confused you look around the table, spotting Y/N Best Friend blushing.

“You know what? How about a little game of never have I ever?”

You look at Lando confused, before agreeing. As Y/N Best Friend agrees, you hear a new voice join the discussion. At the edge of the table stands Lance Stroll.

You had met the man a few times at various events, but never really talked much to him. He and Pierre weren’t close, but there was also no big issues between the two. Obviously his friendship with Esteban certainly made things awkward but Lance never brought him up in conversation, likely aware of their tension.

The Aston Martin driver joined the table and the game began. Questions started out relatively tame, just an easy way to get the game going and more liquor flowing.

As people got drunker, the question started to ramp up. You didn’t miss the target and sexual nature of them, or the looks shared between a few of the drivers and Y/N Best Friend.

Someone called out never hooking up in the drivers room, but you couldn’t even tell which one that was supposed to target. As multiple hands reached for the bottle, it became clear that it wasn’t an uncommon experience. The bottle made a lap around the table, you and Pierre taking sips, along with nearly everyone else. Some of them weren’t shocking at all, but as even the more reserved drivers like Lance, Oscar, and Charles downed the liquor, you held in a bit of a laugh. None of them were particularly big on PDA, and the idea that any had done something so borderline risqué was funny.

Pierre was up, and as his hand on your thigh tightened it’s grip, he stated,

“Never have I ever kissed my best friend.”

You completely forgot that you had told him about that. Early on in uni the two of you had a little too much wine to drink and the discussion of sexuality had come up. Neither of you had any real interest in women, but that hadn’t stopped you from the short drunken make out session.

You looked eyes with Y/N Beat Friend before she drank and passed you the bottle. You watched multiple drivers dart their eyes between the two of you. They really did have the minds of teenage boys sometimes, though your early dancing probably hadn’t helped anything.

It wasn’t until Lando took his turn that you realized exactly where their train of thought had gone.

“Never have I ever fucked a driver.” He asked while glancing between Y/N Best Friend and Pierre.

The idiot really thought you had a threesome together? Rolling your eyes you took your sip before passing the bottle to Kelly.

“Never have I ever had sex in public.”

The bottle once again made an almost perfect lap around the table, one again making you look at some of the drivers in a different light.

Carlos lightened the mood by throwing out foot fetishes, built upon by Oscar following up with spit kinks. When it got back to Pierre he went a bit more common, bring up the usage of Sir or Daddy during sex.

Drinking from the bottle and passing it straight to your best friend, you watched as Lance stared at her a little too closely.

When it got back to him, he stated

“Never have I ever gotten off on pain.”

Oscar’s joking voice asked “Mine or someone else’s?”

Sipping from the bottle, you handed it to Pierre, and then watched Charles down some. Y/N Best Friend finished off the last sip, the sexual tension between her and Lance palpable.

Pierre’s hands had slowly started roaming your body a few statements back, and as the one on your thigh rose under the edge of your dress, the background faded away. At your sharp inhale, he reached for your hand before pulling you to the clubs exit.

You looked over your shoulder at Y/N Best Friend before you left, telling her to have fun and giving her a small wave. She barely acknowledged you though, still too drawn into Lance.

————

The car ride back to the hotel passed impossibly quick. The minute the door had closed and the divider had gone up between the driver and you and Pierre, he pulled you onto his lap.

Hands fumbled under your dress, grinding you into him. He was already hardening, his eyes hazy from lust. He pulled your head into him, swallowing down your moan while you made out in the back seat.

Sliding your hand down his button up, you ran your fingers along his waistband before undoing the button of his pants. Running your hand along his bulge, you felt the car stop.

He swung open the door, pulling you through the lobby and up to his hotel room. Pulling off your heeled boots, he stripped off his shirt. Dragging the zipper on your dress down before you reached for his fly. Sliding his pants down his legs, you went to push him back onto the hotel bed.

“No.” He replied gruffly.

Reaching for your shoulder, he gently pushed you down. You dropped onto your knees quickly, getting what he wanted.

Looking up at him, you slid down his boxers and pulled his cock free. Taking it gently into your hands, you pumped him a few times before opening your mouth. Licking your way up and down his length, you tasted him. As you closed your mouth around him, you slowly slid him down your throat. After two gentle sucks, his hands threaded through your hair.

He began fucking into your mouth, one of his favorite things. You knew he liked to watch you struggle to take his dick to the back of your throat, his size causing problems at times. It had taken some practice, but you’d learned eventually how to hold your jaw and angle your head to be able to deep throat him.

Tears started to spring to your eyes, your jaw starting to ache from his force. His grip on your hair tightened, turned on by your smearing mascara.

“Aw is my baby girl struggling? Maybe you shouldn’t have teased me earlier.”

Moaning out a protesting response, he gripped your hair tighter.

“Stop pretending that wasn’t what you were doing. I know you too well for that. Admit you were trying to turn me on, because it definitely worked.”

Loosening his grip and pulling out he let you respond.

“You weren’t being good.”

“No daddy, I wasn’t.” You replied.

“And as much as I’d like to punish you right now, I want to fill you with my cum more.”

He pulled you off your knee and pushed you down onto the bed. Sliding your underwear down your legs and unhooking your bra, he spread your legs. Pulling one up onto his shoulder, he thrust into you.

A gasp escaped your lips at the intrusion. You weren’t sure that you would ever get used to his size, but fuck did it feel good.

Tilting your hips up, he picked up his pace, repeatedly hitting your gspot. Moans tumbled out of your mouth in rapid succession, quickly approaching your climax.

As you started to tighten around him, he reached down and started rubbing your clit. Pushing you over the edge, you saw stars. He fucked you through your climax, stretching it along before cumming himself. He thrust into you until he was done.

Collapsing next to you, he pulled you into his side. Kissing the top of your head, he turned off the lamp, plunging you into darkness.

[causesciencethatswhy]

https://www.tumblr.com/causesciencethatswhy/739756690719801344/the-only-expectation-was-that-he-should-have?source=share

Um i disagree on the point that members don't know how deep this shipping or solo shit goes cause taehyung is pretty deep in fandom cause he posts arts from accounts, has showed jm the moon tatto thing, jk used tiktok and every sns in this fandom is dominated by tk shippers be it any. I can bet all my money that all the members have seen worst of their shipping stuff than this. Like i know for a fact that even jm knows about it too. They knows they just don't react cause it might make a big deal so they just let it be.

The comapny also don't care about shippers much cause these delulu tkkrs are the ones that are also giving them some millions of money so why would they when they're making money? They gave tkklives her account back. You have people in that company just to keep the sns safe for boys and make sure people who defame them get's punished but you have all these accounts with big following defaming boys in the name of shipping.

This will sound rude now but mark my words tkkrs are beyond repair now and in future it will be jk, tae and their respective partners that are gonna get the end of their hate. Their partners are gonna get all the unnecessary hate from these shippers and neither the members nor anyone else would be able to do anything about it mark my words. They should have stopped them when it was time but now it's too late and at the end it's taekook that's gonna pay for it.

You're creating a causation= correlation link where there isn't one necessarily. Tae can easily come across pretty jimin fanart or ai art, without being in the trenches of shipping or army spaces (especially with all the plethora of art reposter accounts there are) Jk having tiktok in no way guarantees that he's coming across egregious shippers when most accounts he engages with are either meme accounts or dancers. Just because they have a presence on the internet that we can't exactly track, doesn’t mean than we can take the assumption that all the boys are aware of how deeply messed up the shipping spaces run.

With respect to hybe taking action, I agree that they need to start taking these shippers antis more seriously, especially on the non Korean sides, because most of the claims those accounts make could very well amount to defamation but their lax approach tells me that they either don't see them as a threat or are unable to take much action against perpetrators outside of SK, which we know has been an issue before.

As for tae and jungkook shutting down shippers more, they already have anon?? "Get out of your imagination, it's not good in there ", are Taehyung's own words, but was that good enough for the shippers, no? They found a niche alternative translation to satisfy their delusions or just straight up pretend it didn’t happen. People often accuse tae of ramping up tkkrs esp in chap 2, but its just been moments of him sharing about his interactions with jk, how is it his responsibility if tkkrs have run with it to be terrible to jm/jennie? Saying that he's "feeding these shippers" by simply talking about jk sounds strangely reminiscent of what tkkrs used to say about jm a few years back, but whatever.

As for jk, he's shut down tkkrs many times last year itself, what with his weirded out look into the camera when asked whether he's living with tae and many more examples which I'm not that interested in listing out. But does any of that, stop tkkrs? No.

I agree that tkkrs are beyond repair and it might create serious problems for any partners tae or jk might introduce, but you cannot in good faith put the onus of responsibility on the both of them for the way their shippers act. Its too victim blamey for me. I will hold tae a little responsible for reposting that account without checking, just solely because he has a bigger platform than most, but I'm not going to accuse him of being some secret terrible person for the actual content on those blogs.

[thegreenmeridian]

Amazing fucking week:

Friday: Driving to the city and having such intense anxiety about the impending visit from my horrible boss on Wednesday that my vision keeps pinpricking

Saturday: Holiday in Amsterdam for my birthday with the intention of going to a gay sex club for gay sex on Sunday, enjoying vibing with nice old gay men in a very old gay pub on the Saturday. Someone gives me a bump of coke from a little envelope with Dutch blue porcelain patterns

Sunday: See a message from my awful boss at 1.32 am. I am full of alcohol and drugs. I am raging that he is once again hassling me while on vacation/sick leave, and over an issue that I have continuously tried to fix despite him turning down every possible solution I offer because for him, the only acceptable solution is me staying within 15km of the shop and never having evening or weekend plans. Wake up with hangover and hellish anxiety. Too shaky to even consider going to the gay sex party.

Monday-Tuesday: More anxiety, basically doing fuck all with my holiday. Message from bossman on Monday saying we will have a *serious talk* on Wednesday. Frantically messaging my group chat like “ok gang can I sell a car while it still has a loan? Anyone got a sofa I can live on when I get fired?”. Ask therapist for emergency appointment on Thursday.

Wednesday part 1: basically running on pure adrenaline and oscillating between borderline panic attacks and fuck you I quit. The head office people arrive. Bossman is not among them. CEO is. He walks around the shop and says I’m doing a great job. The recycling project lady (who I *love*) whispers to me that bossman isn’t coming so I can relax, I say “yeah I think he’s gonna fire me anyway” and she very vehemently says this won’t happen.

Wednesday part 2: I check my phone at 11.30. Bossman is not coming. Something has come up. He will see me next Wednesday. A reprieve! I’m more jittery than when I was on the Dutch cocaine, my fight-or-flight system is going mental. I hyperactively stock shelves for the next few hours. An email arrives at 14.30, while I’m on the phone to the union trying to work out if I can set fire to some things before I quit because fuck me I am DONE. The email is from my boss, announcing in two stilted sentences that he no longer works for the company, shortly followed by an awkward HR email like “he has ended his journey with the company, we wish him well”.

Wednesday part 3: ngl I have no memory of the next few hours, I think my brain chemistry entered strange new territories. When I come to, I’m walking into the “key meeting” which has been moved from the fancy hotel to a local sports bar in a sort of large shed. There are many, many football scarfs. The manager of the netto pounced on me looking for gossip about my boss. Bitch I don’t know the fuck dot gif. The presentation is in Icelandic. I zone out while staring into the machine knitted eyes of Eric Cantona. Dinner is spent sat next to the brand manager for one of the other supermarket chains in the company, mostly chatting about British football violence as befits the setting.

Thursday: as the great Ronnie O’Sullivan once said, I am up and down like a whore’s drawers. Stroppy email from accounting sends me into a panic spiral. Bouncing between hysterical laughter and pinprick vision. I am Coping. I am also doing an interview with an airport handling agent company for a job as a ramp agent. I think it goes ok? Most of the day a blur until emergency therapy, which is spent rambling like a mad bitch while squishing clay because art therapy slaps. Later, as I’m delivering shite to a boat an hour after I’m supposed to finish, the HR lady calls me. I am, apparently, still mental, because I tell her I thought I was being fired yesterday and when she reassures me I am NOT being fired, I snort and go “well *he* fucking is!”. I also tell her “yay I can stop taking the anxiety pills” and “full disclosure, the prevailing theory in the <boss’s name> support group is that he said let a slut slip while ranting about me in a meeting”. She assures me he would never and he’s just very Honest and Forthright. Ma’am maybe cycle back to the whole “several employees have a support group about this man” and “several employees very easily believe he’s been barely holding back the slurs”. Point of the conversation turns out to be she is *desperate* for me to take another management job out east that I maybe sorta hinted at being willing to do. She vaguely implies that if I don’t agree soon she will have to look elsewhere but they’ve been looking for someone for this job since August so nah ima take this slow.

Friday: adrenaline high is wearing off. I am tired. I hate this job. I have to work tomorrow. One of my apparently three new bosses phones. Man is apparently decent according to people I know who’ve worked with him and my own limited experience but he is clearly trying to Be Assertive now and is talking to me a liiiiitttle too much like ex-bossman used to. Long story short I bought a large tank of helium out of spite today. Phone call from HR Lady as I was leaving work (about half an hour after I was supposed to) and she is seriously desperate for me to take the job out east. They couldn’t get someone up to help me while I was unable to lift shit after surgery with two months notice but they can apparently find someone to cover me for a visit to this shop out east after I said multiple times I wouldn’t say yes until I’d seen the place.

[backtothefanfiction]

The Angel In The Garden of Evil | Chapter Nine: An Explosion In Chinatown

Summary: It's just one thing after another for our couple and the Vulture isn't making things any easier.

Warnings: 18+ Only!, mob/mafia/gang violence typical of the genre, guns, blood, bomb, explosion, death, angst, grief, arguing

Word Count: 2.2k+

A/N: Okay so the drama is ramping up here, you thought chapter 8 had a twist well chapter 9's is even bigger. We are about to touch on a possibly more sensitive topic for the next couple of chapters but I will be very clear to note when and where the details of our plot are so you can pick and choose which bits you read if any of this is gonna trigger you but you want to carry on. It will mostly be in the next chapter which will come with its own authors note but seeing as this is a mafia/mob/gang story it's not an out of character plot twist for the narrative. Anyway, if you struggle with the end of this chapter I advise skipping chapter 9 and just picking up with our story in chapter 10, I promise things will still make sense.

NINE

Peter stormed back into the apartment thirty minutes later followed slowly by Angel, Eddie, Harry and Felicia, Miguel being left downstairs to clear up the mess that was now Jackson Brice. Whether his resolve was stronger than they realised or he really wasn’t the fountain of knowledge they’d expected, was still yet to be determined, but they had learnt one thing before his body gave out, The Vulture was planning on something big.

“What the fuck was that?” Peter suddenly blurted out as he doubled back to his wife. She simply stared at him, her eyebrows raised, egging him on to do his worst. He quickly checked himself, taking deep breaths as he stared her down, unwilling to play her games.

When he seemed to calm a little she finally spoke. “Were you or were you not gonna tell me to go back upstairs after you dragged me all the way down there to make a show of IDing your little plaything for your own game?” she calmly threw the ball back into his court. 

She watched him closely as his nostrils flared, his pupils dilating as he began to feel his rage course through his body. He was acutely aware of their fight the day before, not wanting to prove her or her Father right, he could keep control of his anger, he could. She was just making it really hard for him right now. 

“Well?” she pressed. He growled under his breath as he turned away from her, confirming what she already knew to be true. “Look, I was the one who was hurt, it should have been me who exacted justice.”

“So you just shot him.” He turned to face her again, his hands sitting firmly on his hips in an attempt to feign a stance of control.

“I shot him in the leg Pete, I didn’t kill the guy.”

“It was a pretty good shot.” Felicia chimed in with a smirk of admiration that got her a harsh look from Peter. “Jeez bug boy,” she chided, “She bakes and she’s a good shot. Anyone would think it wasn’t everything you looked for in a wife.” she continued to jest as she slinked across the floor to the living room and took a seat on the sofa, leaning back into the cushions ready to watch the drama unfold. It was short lived though.

“GET OUT!” Peter shouted, finally blowing his top. “You know what you need to be doing today, so go do it.” he commanded her. 

“Come on now, Pete.” Eddie said, stepping forward to mediate again.

“No!” Peter said firmly to him. “All of you out. NOW!”

They all slowly filed back out the door, Harry placing a tender hand to Peter’s shoulder, urging him to try and be lenient. “I’ll meet you downstairs in a minute.” Peter muttered under his breath. Harry nodded in acknowledgment before leaving, closing the front door behind him.

The door closing acted like the fall of the curtain at the end of a performance. Peter turning his back to her and finally getting a hold on himself, able to finally let down his guard without prying eyes. Just him and his wife and their…issues.

He rested his head in his hands as he sat himself down in a boxy leather armchair. She watched as his breathing gradually slowed and began to step forward towards him, attempting to bridge the gap between them that kept getting wider, every time they tried to meet in the middle.

“Just when I think I understand you,” he huffed, still unable to look at her. “What happened to you?” He finally lifted his head to meet her eyes and she could see the pain clear on his face. His inner conflict that she was causing him.

“I had to adapt without you.” she said quietly. Peter watched as her own pain and realisation began to fall over her like a dark cloud. “I guess when you are in it, you don’t notice it as much. Until…” her voice trailed off as she tried to find a way to rationalise things. 

“Do you know how dangerous that is?” Peter finally said, breaking the silence that had fallen between them once more. “How am I supposed to deal with the threat out there if I’m always watching over my shoulder for you because I have no idea what you’re going to do or say next. What other secrets you’re hiding from me?”

“Peter I-”

“No. I can’t do this right now.” He said, getting up from the armchair, his hand running through his hair as his thoughts raced around in the small space.

“Peter, please.” Her hand reached out for his as he passed her. There was so much pain in his eyes when he looked at her.

“I’ll get Miles to come pick you up and take you down to the hub.” he said quietly as he slipped his hand from her grasp. She couldn’t help but stare at his back as he made his way to the front door, the latch closing behind him syncing up with the first tear that rolled down her cheek.

******

Miles picked her up an hour later. After Peter had left she made her way upstairs to finish getting dressed. She had kept on the trousers and the vest, choosing to layer over the top a light blue pinstriped button up shirt that sat oversized on her frame.

“Hey, you ready to go?” Miles said as he knocked on the door of the bedroom. He had let himself in. He had expected to find her sat waiting in the living room for him or even in the kitchen, he hadn’t expected to find her upstairs on the bed staring blankly at the wall.

“Umm, yeah, let’s go.” she said as she stood and started gathering the last of her things into her handbag.

“Hey, you okay?” Miles asked as he stopped her at the door. She looked like a ghost, not at all like the woman he had met the day before who was so sure of herself both when they had first been introduced and she was a fireball of rage or later, when they went down to the shelter and she was all kindness and smiles, showing him around. Now she was just a shell. He watched closely, the flash of change in her eyes as she suddenly put on a smile and a show to him but it wasn’t going to work.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” she chirped as she breezed past him and headed for the stairs down to the main floor of the penthouse apartment.

Miles didn’t want to accept that answer. His Mom had raised him well enough to know when someone was hurting and needed help. Taught him how to talk, to be compassionate, but in the 24 hours he’d come to know Angel, he knew if he pushed her too hard she might just snap at him and it might make things worse. He hoped once he got her down to F.E.A.S.T and she started to soften how she had yesterday, she may be more willing to talk about what’s happened.

They both sat in silence in the car as they made their way to the hub. “Did you want to pick anything up on the way?” Miles asked, attempting to make conversation and see if she wanted to get anything to bring to the shelter as an offering.

“No, it’s okay.” she said quietly before turning her head to look out the window. “Wait!” she exclaimed as they turned down a particular street.

“What? What is it?” Miles responded, suddenly on alert. But when he looked over to her in the passenger seat, there was a sudden softness to her, a feeling that wasn’t there before.

“Can you stop up here? There’s a little cafe I want to pop into.”

Angel told Miles to wait in the car for her as she made her way into the Lucky Cat Cafe, the little bell above the door jingling as she entered. As her eyes scanned the walls with their many quirky and colourful pieces of cat art, a feeling of nostalgia and peace washed over her.

“Good Morning?” a little old Chinese lady greeted her from behind the counter.

“Good Morning.” Angel smiled back. 

She took a seat at one of the empty tables and let out a sigh of relief as she sat back into one of the old wooden chairs. 

“Can I get you anything?” the old lady asked in her heavily accented english.

“Umm, yes, can I get a green tea and one of the coconut buns please?” she asked, the familiar order returning to her and falling from her lips as easily as riding a bike.

“One green tea, one coconut bun coming up.” the old lady repeated with a smile as she went back towards the counter.

It had been so long since she had last been here. It used to be a place her and her mother came to regularly before she passed. They loved nothing more than stopping in on a saturday morning and talking for what felt like hours about school and boys and family history, the ludicrous tales and adventures of her Grandmother being recounted to her over a cup of tea and a coconut bun.

“Thank you.” Angel said with a smile as the little old lady sat an ornately decorated cup, saucer and teapot in front of her along with the coconut bun on a small octagonal pink plate.

“Enjoy.” The lady smiled before returning back towards the tiny kitchen bakery in the back.

Angel poured herself a cup of tea and as she did so a small ray of sunlight suddenly shifted, shining through the little tea shop window to illuminate the chair beside her. The warmth of the light comforted her, a familiar presence at her side. 

As she sipped on her tea and nibbled on her bun, the little flakes of desiccated coconut on top dropping back down to the table and into her lap, she was reminded of a scene in a movie she loved to watch when she was younger. Her Dad had bought her the Charlie’s Angels movies on dvd as part of her Christmas present one year. She had watched them religiously, wanting to grow up to be just like the strong, courageous women in the movie. As she sat there now, the stream of light beside her, it reminded her of the scene in the second movie, when Dylan goes into a bar in Mexico and talks to a seemingly passed-on Angel of the past, Kelly Garrett, one of the angels from the original series. 

She looked to the stream of light beside her, felt the comfort in it and knew her Mom was sitting with her. ‘I miss you.’ she thought.

‘I know.” a little voice in the back of her head said.

When she returned to Miles 40 minutes later she could tell he was anxious about having left her in the little Chinese cafe alone; but the moment he saw her more present and relaxed, she saw him breath out a sigh of relief.

“You feeling better?” he asked.

“Yeah.” she smiled at him with a small nod of her head.

“Ready to go help some people?” he asked as she reached for her seatbelt and buckled herself in.

“Let’s do it.”

They pulled up on the other side of the road to the hub a few minutes later, Angel letting out another sigh of contentedness as she stepped out of the car and looked at the building. “You good?” Miles checked in with her as he looked at her over the roof of the car, the driver's side door clicking closed.

“Yup.” she turned and smiled at him.

They checked for cars before they started to cross the road, but as they got closer to the other side, Angel saw a flash of light through the glass doors of the hub before-

She was knocked off her feet as a blast of energy burst from the building, a large boom echoing out onto the street in its wake. Her back collided with the side of the car behind her and everything went black.

“Angel? ANGEL?” Mile’s voice sounded muffled, almost like he was talking to her underwater and there was this ringing in her ears. She opened her eyes, trying to see him, trying to understand what was happening. Her vision slowly cleared enough for her to make out his face as he hobbled towards her, leaning over her body.

She tried to move but her body was so heavy, everything felt numb. She managed to prop herself up on one arm slightly, though her ribs protested. 

“Angel?” Miles continued to say her name, trying to ground her, to focus on him but she couldn’t stop herself from looking past him at the clouds of black smoke that billowed out of the blown out windows and doors of the shelter. Small flecks of white ash came down like snow as people ran and screamed around them. There were bodies on the floor. Bystanders quickly got covered in dust as they ran in to help.

She tried to move again but it was difficult, like trying to pull her body out of quicksand. “Hey, hey, hey, don’t move.” Miles’ muffled voice said through the ringing still in her ears.

She thought she felt her chest groan as she finally gave up, her body relaxing back onto the concrete, her eyes closing, darkness dragging her under.

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