#it makes me feel like I’m undoing so many months of progress on controlling my emotions and approaching problems fairly and I hate it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sunlightandsuffering · 3 years

Note

Prompt : they are both famous and secretly dating.

tbh I don't know what this is or if it makes any sense at all, so sorry anon for butchering ur prompt, but I'm a basic bitch and I like my drake, so like this is gonna be pain bcuz my favourite song on the new album is just pain and I can't stop thinking about a fucked up celebs relationship to it, just ANGST AND PAIN!! 😭😭 but those lyrics hit, can't believe I wrote a song fic ugh circa Tumblr 2015 jfc I'mma write a happier ending to this in another prompt 😂 bc someone else asked for the same thing.

Fucking Fans

I'm still working on me

Eren stands at the Met Gala, holding Mikasa by the waist, giving a cramped smile for photos and keeping her close. People call their names and cameras flash and his beloved blinks, hiding her face into his shoulder as the lights overwhelm her.

He looks down at her lovingly as some jackass reporter yells about a cheating rumour and her pretty face pinches up. Eren is quick to comfort her with his touch, both hands gripping her waist reassuringly as he decides it's time for them to go inside.

"Come on Miki," he kisses her forehead and she nods, accepting. Neither of them wants to think about those rumours, the damage and the pain they bring up is too much and it's all his fault, he knows, but he can't undo it.

The guilt eats at him and she holds his hand tighter, the despair takes him and she cuddles him at night.

They're together now but sometimes Eren wonders just how it happened, how he came back from falling so far. How she took him back when he fucked up so massively.

And I'm coming back better for you

The day he shows up on her door step again is the day of the biggest awards show of the season, the one he knows she's going to kill and probably sweep several categories. Just because she's that amazing. He finds her where he expects, in her apartment, the address Armin gave him, doing her own hair and makeup, humble Mikasa just like always, ironing out her own dress. He shows up in a suit with as many white roses as he can fit into a bouquet and ready to leave if she still hates him, which she has every right to.

But he's been through months of therapy, gave Armin control of his bank account, and check himself into rehab thrice, every time he was even inching closer to relapse.

He's not fixed, but he's better, marginally, and he wants her to know it, know he still loves her at the very least.

She opens the door, beautiful even without makeup, and wearing a white slip and her pretty red mouth parts in shock.

All he can do is hold out his roses as tears leave his eyes at seeing her for the first time in months.

Most times it was my selfishness and your helplessness that I took advantage of

It was so easy with Mikasa, she was so devoted to him. So loving and sweet, always there for him.

She'd wait up, let him do what he wanted, never wanting to stifle or control him. Too afraid their tenuous relationship would crack and they'd break up.

A part of him blames her for it, for being so willing to let him do what he wanted. She'd been passive, unsure how to insert herself, had minimal complaints, letting him ruin his life party by party, late night after late night, drugs and alcohol all of it.

But he knows he can never hold her accountable for his own actions, and the day she's finally done with his bullshit is both the best and worst day of his life. She finally says no, and it begins his path to fixing himself. Because hitting rock bottom is losing the most important thing in his life, and that's Mikasa.

You sit in the house and I be out and I know you're worried, up

The problem with her passivity is he knows it's not passivity at all, she just doesn't know what to do, how to fix him. Eren has always had a temper, and she's known him for a long time, knows he'll lash out and behave worse if provoked. So she'd reacted as best she could, leaving rehab pamphlets out, asking him to stay in and watch movies, bake with her, anything other than going out to party.

But he'd stumble home every night and see her asleep on the couch, waiting. Always there to pick him up instead of a cab, not wanting the paparazzi to get a hold of him, she was always there.

And you try and block it out

They lived in a bubble, they pretended it didn't happen. They didn't acknowledge when he was too hungover to shoot the next morning. She'd brew him coffee, get him through the day, flush his drug stash when they checked, both his saving grace and biggest enabler.

Even when he's kissing her for more than just an on-screen kiss, lips drinking her in like a man starved, and the next morning she finds new girls in his bed, she keeps quiet.

They're a mess, but every time she dutifully kicks the girls out and drags him to the shower.

I'm so sorry for letting you down

When he'd first become famous, he hadn't known what to do with himself. He'd been scouted for how many movies, tv-shows, underwear commercials, brand deals. It was a whirlwind as Hollywood found their new boy wonder, handsome, smart and a nice boy.

His best friend, and female love interest in their debut movie, Mikasa, who had followed him to Hollywood on nothing more than a whim, was equally bombarded with fame and fortune. They'd always been close, always best friends, but never quite more, no matter how much they both obviously wanted it. It never progressed beyond a few acted kisses.

Still, they got an apartment together, and Eren had thought it was the start of something great, he was living the dream. Rich and famous with his best friend, the girl he'd secretly loved since he was young.

He'd been content just to stay up late and watch movies with her before work, to visit her on set and bring her donuts. They were Hollywood's shining stars, two kids sickeningly sweet in love even though they weren't officially dating, they were as good as.

At the advice of his agent, he'd started doing more, started picking up a few other gigs on the side, modelling, but he kept it small, he didn't want to overwhelm himself, and he still wanted time for Mikasa.

It had gone well, they'd taken fame okay, and Eren had been proud, neither of them had a sex-scandal or a pregnancy scare yet. They'd even been inching towards finally being something more than just friends, a few heated looks, some on-stage kisses to finally get the ball rolling.

Then Mikasa had been cast in an upcoming romance movie and her love interest hadn't been Eren, it had been Jean.

That had been the start of his spiral.

He'd never meant for it to get so far out of control, how many movies he started doing, how many promotions. Meanwhile Mikasa, smart, brilliant Mikasa stuck with smaller projects and only ever one at a time, preferring to keep close to their apartment. He was all she had, and she was all he wanted.

Nights when I just needed to hold somebody

He misses her, lays in bed awake at night thinking about her, how long it’s been, when was the last time he saw the curve of her face in person and not in a washed-out picture on a magazine. Girls in and out of his apartment, trying to fill the empty void inside him, and nothing works, nothing ever works. Because he’d fucked it up, said he didn’t need her, told her he could do it on his own, fame wouldn’t take him. Called each other names, every one in the book, screaming matches over stupid shit, if he should take that job, what she was doing with Jean, how she was eating, if she was eating enough.

The toxicity was palpable in their apartment until finally Mikasa just left and he broke.

Feeling overwhelmed, should've told somebody

Fame takes him like a drug addiction, actually it comes with a drug addiction, heroine, cocaine, molly, all of it. In trying to ditch his Hollywood’s sweetheart, good boy image he diverts his life so radically he doesn’t know if he can ever get back to where he was. He loses weight, barely gets by, he doesn’t even understand how he’s still getting booked, but people want him even more now that he’s Hollywood’s bad boy. Meanwhile Mikasa is disgraced now that he’s ‘thrown her away’ even though it was the other way around. Last he heard she lived in a little apartment on the upper east side, leaves only to work, and to fly up to see their families. He hasn’t seen his parents in months, doesn’t want to. Doesn’t want to see the look in their eyes when they realize how skinny he’s gotten, how his body lacks muscle, skin barely clinging to bone, gaunt and lifeless.

He needs help, but he’s spiraling, he’s committed and no matter how many times Armin tries to get him into rehab, he never goes. What’s the point Mikasa is gone, he’s not getting her back, all he has now is the money, the drugs, and the women.

Picturin' it's me sending chills through your body

He hears she’s dating Jean now and somehow, he gets worse.

Every fear he’d ever had comes to life and he gets angry, his temper coming back full force. The past few months he’d barely been getting by, not really living, but his rage awakens him. She’d told him no, that they weren’t dating, never so much as kissed outside of work. What a fucking lie.

How many girls he takes home that month he doesn’t know, how many paparazzi photos of women leaving his apartment, how he dreams it’s Mikasa under him, not some rando.

He sees her on the cover of some magazine, walking innocently with Jean and it sends him into even more of a rage, but under it all he wishes it was him, doesn’t matter that they were never official, that it only happened a few times, he wants her back. But Eren’s never been good at navigating his emotions, so he clings to his rage like a lifeline.

I just probably should've chilled 'til I saw you

When they ask about her in interviews, he doesn’t answer. Not until that once, when he lets it slip and he watches Armin wilt in real time from behind the camera as he spits the words, “I think it’s obvious, she’s with Jean now isn’t she, right after she was with me, figure it out yourself.”

The insinuation is lethal, cruel, mean and he knows it’s not true, but he says it anyway. He knows she didn't do it, but still the coincidence hurts too much, the very thought that there might have been something romantic going on with them before makes him want to throw up.

The interviewer looks shocked before he brightens up at the tidbit of information, like a vulture picking apart the last pieces of his heart, massacring it further, but Eren doesn’t mind the pain anymore. It fuels his rage and that’s all he has these days.

How am I supposed to get to know somebody?

When the rage wears off months later and Mikasa has done nothing, no comment on his interviews, no appearances, no angry texts, just silence, he becomes numb. Then the sadness sets in, because losing her romantically isn’t even the worst part, he doesn’t even have his best friend anymore, he’s lost her too.

She’s become a recluse, a hermit, he hasn’t even seen her with Jean on the magazine covers lately. Distantly he knows it’s because their movie is finished filming, and she was probably never dating him in the first place.

He goes to awards shows in hopes of at least catching a glimpse but she’s gone into hiding, there’s rumours she’s back in their hometown, but he’d never visit, not with the disgrace he’s become. He tries to date seriously, tries to talk to other actresses, but it’s all so vacant, disingenuous. All they want him for is his image, there’s nothing real about these women anymore, everything is fake, plastic right down to their boobs. Nothing like Mikasa, who was pure to her core, even in the face of her fame.

If we broke it off then you know it wasn't painless

He'd cried for weeks after she'd ended it, despite it being entirely his fault.

Armin had cancelled all his engagements and Eren hadn't left the apartment, curling himself up on her empty mattress, her room a barren wasteland.

He'd only eaten when Armin forced him too, and only come out of his hibernation after his mother had called to yell, Armin holding the phone right in his ear, the first time he'd spoken to her in forever.

If she got a watch then you know it's not a stainless

He’s got money, but it means nothing. Mikasa has money too, it doesn’t even matter. What has it all been for? He doesn’t even know anymore. All he’s gotten from his acting career is trust issues, more money than he knows what do with and the loss of his best friend and the only girl he’s ever loved.

It’s all a blur now, he acts, he models, he does PR. Armin makes him a schedule and he follows it. They meet with his nutritionist and his personal trainer, and he starts working out again, eating real food, not just smoking, and drinking coffee to supress his appetite.

Armin is the only reason he’s still a functioning human being as Eren hits rock bottom. The only one left to try and push him out.

I was out here fucking fans, I was shameless

He knows he fucked up, it’s why he starts therapy.

The shit he’d done, high off his own fame and arrogance, it’s messed up and he he knows it now. All the girls, all the money and the drugs, ignoring Mikasa’s concerns, dragging her down with him.

He doesn’t blame her now, he knows none of it was fair, she was justified in leaving. They were toxic, their half on, half off relationship, how he'd commit to the drugs but never her.

He can still remember the first time he kissed her, really kissed her, Eren and Mikasa not two characters on screen. It was after their first awards show for their movie, he’d been so excited, so delightfully sober, he couldn’t help himself, she’d been so pretty in her white dress, he’d leaned down before he could stop himself. The first night they’d had sex, her moans, her soft cries of pleasure, nothing had ever measured up since.

It had been bliss, for about a month or so and then they’d really been discovered, and it had all been shot to hell.

All the fans, all the women throwing themselves at him, his eyes couldn’t help but wander despite Mikasa always being the most radiant in the room. He had her love, he’d had everything, but that insidious voice in the back of his head had wondered. Thought the grass was greener on the other side, wanting to explore fame at the same time they’d finally started their relationship.

You was at the crib reading stories that they sent you

They’d kept it casual at Eren’s insistence and Mikasa’s heartbreak, his rock had been willing to allow it for him, for the chance to finally explore their relationship. But he could see how much it hurt her, the tabloids were the worst part, every day a new cover, another apartment he’d leave, another hookup in the parking lot. And he could barely justify it to himself, why he did it, why he continued to do it? He had everything he could ever want in Mikasa, the girl he’d loved since forever, finally in the palm of his hand, willing to give herself wholly to him.

And yet fame had called him more, and the people he was hanging out with only encouraged it, the famous lifestyle, drugs, sex and rock and roll.

Everyone was doing it, so why shouldn’t he?

Most of that was bullshit but some of it I did do

The rumours spiralled out of control after a while, there was nothing he could do, it was over, they had too much on him.

He'd been telling himself lies that maybe she was with Jean on the side, that she had the same opportunities as him, she could go out and sleep around too.

As if Mikasa would ever even consider it.

He’d finally given into being exclusive, seeing the toll it was taking on Mikasa, after Armin smacked him upside the head and told him he was going to lose her if he didn’t get his shit together. Eren had finally realized how irreversibly he was fucking up his relationship, but by then, it had been too late.

When they finally started truly dating, monogamy and all, it had been far, far too late. The backlog of photos the paparazzi had was ridiculous, any opportunity they got to demonize him they took.

He and Mikasa been casual at the time of all the photos, sure, but anyone would buckle under the weight of constant articles about their significant other cheating. Eren became the villain in his own story, and Hollywood loved it, ‘Bad Boy Eren Yeager Ditches Mikasa Ackerman’. He still remembers the headline, it was the straw that broke the camel’s back, she’d come home, dropped the offending magazine on the coffee table and hidden in her room for the rest of the night. He’d slept outside her door, and the next morning he’d been woken by her stepping over him to leave, bags packed.

It was sad, they’d never even officially dated to the public, they hadn’t gotten to that point. She’d wanted to reveal it at some awards show by taking him as her date, thanking him in her speech, her boyfriend, Eren Yeager. Overnight the paparazzi had singlehandedly broken them up for shit he hadn’t even done.

He had no one but himself to blame.

Hard for me to justify the women I was into

Looking back, he can’t say why he did it or what the purpose of all the models that looked eerily like her were for. Maybe he was trying to fill the empty space in his heart, maybe he felt neglected by her friendship with Jean and how obvious the man’s feeling for her were, but for one reason or another, he’d slept his way through about half of the Victoria’s Secret fashion show, and award shows were awkward these days. Meeting the eyes of all the talented women he’d hooked up with in such a professional setting was uncomfortable at best.

How many more did he not even remember, to high off drugs and alcohol and his own ego?

Especially when the whole entire world wished they had you

He’d seen it in how Jean looked at her the first time they’d walked the red carpet as promotion for their movie. The tall man was a b-list actor and he’d been invited to the pre-screening, and he’d watched Mikasa the entire night. His gaze wasn’t moved by Eren’s arm wrapped protectively around her waist or his chin resting on her head, nor the possessive hand on her thigh.

They hadn’t even been fooling around back then, but he couldn’t help himself, he didn’t want Jean’s eyes on her. She was also Mikasa Ackerman, and the whole world thought she was just as beautiful and amazing and perfect as he did.

But she was his. His best friend, love of his life, his everything

If only he’d treated her like it.

Probably made you want to hit the streets on everything

She doesn't take him to the awards show the night he comes begging, but she lets him inside her apartment. Lets him help her with her hair, something he's sorely missed. Something he's familiar with, been braiding her hair since they were kids.

He helps her put it up into a beautiful twist.

And when Jean knocks at her door to take her to the awards show he lets her go, kisses her cheek and tells her how much he loves her, how she's going to win it all and he'll be waiting her when she gets back.

And then she leaves, walks away with another man and Eren thinks he deserves it, it's his penance, how many times has she felt this same way, how many women has he been through?

Probably made you want to pour bleach on everything

He discovers not a single remnant of himself in her apartment, no pictures, no clothes she's borrowed. Even his old sweatshirt, her favourite one is gone. Hell, even their award for best-onscreen-kiss is gone.

He finds it all in a crumpled box under her bed and it's his own fault for snooping, their photo crumpled up and misshapen, riddled with water damage. Probably from her tears if he had to guess.

Probably made you want to kill me on everything

She comes home that night and Eren is surprised, he'd expected her to go to Jean's. Hadn't really believed she was going to come back. Had resigned himself to sleeping on the couch and waiting till tomorrow when she'd come home dishevelled and covered in hickeys and bruises, the kind good sex gives you. The kind he'd never really allowed himself to give her.

That's when she'd really broken and he'd been so fucking happy when she'd thrown her purse at him. No more of her her silent rage, her forced smiles. She'd kicked and screamed, cried in his arms only to hit him brutally with a pillow, chasing him to the end of the couch. Hands restraining his wrists, as she curses him out, tears running down her beautiful cheeks sparkling in the moonlight, she's a vengeful goddess and he deserves every second of her wrath.

She collapses on top of him in a heap of sobs and all he can do is hold her, hating himself just as much as he's sure she does.

Yeah, trust, I know that

He wakes the next morning with her weight in his arms, and he holds her like he never wants to let go.

He's lucky she's even here with him right now, that she didn't kick him out on the spot. That she even cares enough to still fight with him. He kisses her forehead softly, he knows.

Yeah I kinda hate this but whatever have angst 🤷🏻‍♀️

#lys's drabbles

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randomfandomimagine · 3 years

Text

Love’s Worth Running To. Chapter 3: The Accident

Pairing: Barry Allen x Stephanie Williams (OC)

Fandom: Justice League / DCEU

⬅ PREVIOUS CHAPTER • CHAPTER INDEX • NEXT CHAPTER ➡

AO3

A/N: This is when things start to get serious! I hope you enjoy chapter 3! As always, remember to give this some love, please reblog and leave feedback! It would make my week! 🙏💜

The next day the lab feels the same as ever, though it appears even brighter than the other day as Stephanie walks inside, coffee in hand. She beams and smiles at Ben as she approaches him. He stares at her, cutting her off before she can greet him with a cheerful ‘good morning’.

“Good morning to you too, Stephanie” He gladly takes the coffee that she offers him.

“It’s rude to interrupt people, you know?” She playfully wrinkles her nose at him.

“Just when I thought you couldn’t be any nicer and more of a ray of sunshine” Ben jokes. “Does this have to do with your mysterious childhood friend?”

“Kind of” She purses her lips to suppress her big smile. “It suddenly feels like a missing part of me has returned”

“Oh, no…” He playfully dreads. “You’re not going to get sappy, are you?”

Stephanie rolls her eyes a little and softly slaps him in the arm. He laughs.

For a moment she questions whether to tell him about yesterday. The conversation with Barry, the awkwardness turned to warmth as they reconnected again, and even the near death experience that was the strange culmination to an otherwise lovely soiree. However, while she stares at Ben tangling with the computer, she decides against it.

As close as she is with Ben, it feels slightly out of place to talk about it. Too personal. Ben would surely intently listen to her, smiling politely as he always does. Nonetheless, even if a part of her wants to share that euphoria with the only person she’s close to, the other part prefers to keep it to herself. Silently treasure it.

“Is the computer behaving?” Stephanie asks instead, sliding on her white lab coat.

“For now” Ben absently replies, focused on entering commands on it. “Let’s hope it doesn’t glitch today”

“I’m feeling lucky” She happily replies, earning a curious look from him.

Like every other day, Stephanie automatically puts her hair behind her ear to get it away from her eyes. Then she leans down on the microscope, looking through it and analyzing the samples after Ben has done the small adjustments to the force field they had been exposed to.

The usual dullness overcomes her once again as a force of habit, but one thing’s different. After so many hours of hard work and perseverance, there’s finally something. Understanding what the change can mean, Stephanie gasps.

“Ben!” She shrieks with such urgency that he jolts up in startle.

“What is it?” He rushes to her side, planting a comforting hand on her back.

“T-The samples!” She announces, wildly gesticulating. “It’s starting to work!”

On an instinct, Ben goes to look at the samples through the microscope just like Stephanie was doing a moment ago. With a light chuckle, he backs away.

“You’re the biology expert, I... don’t know what’s happening”

“The molecules are being altered, but the reaction is positive” Stephanie’s heart races with intensity at the thought of what it could imply. “And if we arrange the force field in just the right way and the molecules have a flawless positive reaction…”

She feels out of breath with excitement. Finally, her long awaited goal would come to fruition. Finally, they will have a force for good on their hands, a technology that could help and protect countless of people.

“We need to keep working” His ever undisturbed polite facade breaks slightly as he fidgets in the spot, patting her and glancing around as though he doesn’t know what to do. “But we’re making progress?”

“We’re making progress!” To celebrate the success that has taken them months to achieve, they hold on to each other’s hands. Their restless energy surges through them, only spreading further to each other.

“There you are!” An outside voice cuts through the moment as someone walks inside the lab. “It took me forever to find-”

When the two turn, they find themselves with the unexpected presence of a tall thin boy with dark hair. He’s very familiar to her, but a complete stranger for Ben.

“Barry...” Stephanie mutters, suddenly very aware of the rare touch of Ben’s hands.

“You must be the friend” The latter says, breaking away from her.

“The friend?” Barry’s previous gawk changes into a grin. “Have you been talking about me, Steph?”

“Oh, um… sorry...” Stephanie chuckles to hide her embarrassment. “Ben, that’s Barry… you know, my friend. Barry this is Ben, he’s kind of… my boss. Well, not exactly…”

“I’m just in charge of the project” Ben corrects her, witnessing her struggling. “But we work together as equals”

“Yeah…” The young woman suddenly feels overwhelmed as her present and her past collide in the form of the two men.

“Nice to meet you, Barry” Ben holds his hand out for him to shake.

“You too, Ben” The boy smiles, tapping his hand before letting go of the handshake.

“Not that I’m not happy to see you, but…” Stephanie tugs on Barry’s sleeve. Ben stares at the two, and his gaze flusters her. “What are you doing here?”

“Oh, I just came by to say hi” Barry simply says, shrugging a little. “I just… I just missed you, okay?”

Stephanie must have given him a look of utter endearment, because he bashfully averts his gaze and begins to walk around the lab.

“Can I… hang around for a bit?” He asks Stephanie, but she looks at Ben.

“I guess” He kindly replies, politely smiling. “It’s not top secret or anything”

“Cool!” Barry continues to carelessly wander around the lab. “The tech looks fancy”

“Thank you” Ben takes the compliment upon himself, as he is the one in charge of that.

“What are you working on?” To Barry’s question, Stephanie glances at Ben once again. He only nods his head for confirmation. Only then does she talk about the project.

“A force field” She motions over to the small machine that projects the energy towards the molecules vibrating in the air. “We’re currently making sure that the molecules react correctly in order to-”

“Ensure the force field could be projected on people?” He ventures, and Stephanie quickly nods her head, smiling. “That would be awesome! It could be used in such amazing ways!”

“I’m the techno-scientist in charge of the force field” Ben explains, even though Barry and Stephanie are peering at each other and barely paying attention. “Stephanie is the biology expert we hired to control how the molecules react when they’re exposed to it”

“What?” She chuckles, flustered under Barry’s smitten stare.

“You’re still trying to save the world, huh?” He nudges her a little.

“So she’s always been like this” Ben meddles in, looking from one to the other.

“You have no idea, buddy” Barry glances at him, even if his permanent smile is directed at the girl.

“I…” Ben clears his throat, taking a step back. “I better leave you two for a bit. I’ll get ourselves a snack”

“Thank you” Stephanie tells him as he moves further away. Her gratitude isn’t only in response to his kind offer to grab something to eat, but also for allowing them a moment alone. He understands how important Barry is to her.

After Ben leaves, the two are alone in the room. It fills with silence. Barry continues to wander, pretending to look at the equipment littered around the lab. In reality, a question bubbles in his chest, growing bigger by the second and threatening to become unbearable until he finally lets it out.

“So…” He begins, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning on a table. “Steph”

“Yeah?”

“Are you free today?”

“Yeah, after work. Why?”

Barry casually shrugs, pouting his bottom lip in a carefree gesture. He picks up an unused flask and fiddles with it, even if his eyes are fixed on her face.

“I dunno… I thought we could go out again. I mean... if you want” He gulps, looking away before she can even react to his suggestion. Barry hurriedly continues speaking, not letting her say anything yet. “We could go take a walk or go to the cinema or…”

“So soon?” Stephanie’s tone is playful. “You should take me to dinner first, Allen”

“Huh?” Barry gawks at her, completely oblivious to her teasing and panicking in fear of her response.

“I’m joking, silly” She giggles, closing the distance that separates them to rub his arm. “I would love to meet with you again later”

Barry grins, heaving a breath of relief. He nods to himself, putting the flaskback on its place. He pushes himself off the table and opens his mouth to say something. However, something interrupts him. Stephanie might have not noticed the noise, being so used to it, but Barry freezes at the sirens outside the window.

“Okay, so what time do you get out?” He begins, slowly walking back to the door.

“At… three” Stephanie half-questions, watching him in confusion.

“Okay, cool” He carelessly says, staring at the street. “I’ll pick you up then”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I gotta run”

“Barry...”

“See you later!”

Before she can even say goodbye to him, he has already run off. The glass door closes with a soft sound that still echoes in her ears. She sighs. With that, Stephanie resigns herself to go back to work. Her thoughts wander nonetheless.

She has to get used to being around him again, is all. They haven’t seen each other in so long, and things have changed. It’s strange to think that they’re both adults now, with jobs and responsibilities, but it’s the reality. One she must accept.

Just as she finds herself staring at the display of the experiment yet not seeing it, it happens. The force field crackles and vanishes, undoing hours of progress. For a moment, she freezes, not knowing how to react.

“No…” Stephanie whines, sulkily walking over to the computer.

She still doesn’t really understand how such an advanced model works, but she takes a look nonetheless. The screen is glitching like it has been for days, so she waits for several seconds. Nothing happens. Stephanie taps the screen, and it seems to return to normal. It asks to press any letter to restart the projection of the force field.

Breathing in relief, Stephanie does as asked. She makes a mental note to tell Ben about it anyway. The machine comes to life with the press of a button. She waits. A crackling sound begins to her right. She looks with the corner of her eye and turns slowly. The force field, once small and contained, is now growing at an alarming rate with a static sound. If it weren’t impossible, she would think it has developed a mind of its own.

“Oh, no…” She gasps, realizing what is about to happen. Her gut knows it before her brain does. A sinking feeling grows in her stomach. Her mind can only focus on one thought. One emotion. Fear.

Time stops. She makes to move out of the way, but it’s too late. She can almost feel the invisible electricity in the air before it hits her. Stephanie closes her eyes tight and puts her arms before her, trying to protect herself from the inevitable. In vain.

Her entire life seems to flash before her eyes as the whimsical time slowly speeds up again. She sees Barry in her mind. Despite her discontent, despite her nostalgia and despite everything, there isn’t a single thing she regrets. Not anymore. As she resigns herself to her doom, she feels satisfied with her life. If he’s to be her last thought, it will be a beautiful one.

An immense blast of energy then shoots her way, being so powerful that it throws her across the room. She screams. The wind is knocked out of her when her back violently hits the furthest wall, claiming a guttural grunt from within her. She falls on the ground like rag doll, barely capable of remaining conscious. Pain is the only thing her brain can conceive. Her lungs have seemed to stop working. Stephanie struggles to catch her breath again, but her attempts are futile. Before she can breathe again, she has succumbed to a pitch black darkness.

Barry comes to a halt once he returns to S.T.A.R. Labs. He takes a deep breath, recovering from the unplanned rescue mission, and heads to Stephanie’s lab once more. The remnant of the ashes from the fire still linger on his clothes. He can’t linger on the people he saved for long, however. Something else claims his attention.

He walks slowly, overcome with a strange feeling of dread. It forcefully settles in his stomach. Everything is quiet in that floor. Too quiet... He just left her not that long ago. Barry checks his watch, seeing that only twenty minutes have gone by. There are no voices, but even if Ben hadn’t returned… Something feels wrong.

“Steph?” The boy calls as he approaches her lab, still anguished by the silence. A strange atmosphere lives in the air. “Stephanie?”

Just as he arrives, he places the hand on the doorknob. An unexpected noise makes him freeze. A buzzing light. He sees it flash through the glass door. Still no signs of her.

“Stephanie...?” He tries again, tentatively opening the door. The sight he is received with makes his heart skip a beat. Time has never moved so slowly for him.

The entire lab has been destroyed, like a bomb or a hurricane passed through. An explosion definitely seems to have blasted through the entire room. There is broken glass and papers scattered around the floor, crunching under his sneakers. Every piece of technology that he had admired before, including the computer, are broken to pieces.

The buzzing light blinks on and off, projecting its yellowish light in small intervals to illuminate the darkness that otherwise drowns everything. There is another thing, far more alarming than the others. A figure lying on the ground. Completely still.

“STEPH!” Barry speeds through the room, instantly moving to that corner. “Oh god...”

Stephanie lies face down. The wall behind her is dented, and a nasty feeling assures Barry that her body caused that. What happened there?!

Swallowing hard, he reaches out to touch her. She isn’t moving. Is she breathing? Is she hurt? Is she... alive? Please, let her be alive...

“S-Steph?” He sobs, gingerly gathering her form in his arms and leaning her against his chest. A tuft of hair limply glides off her forehead to reveal her eyes. They are closed. He shakes her slightly, but she limply lies against him. “No, no… I just found you… d-don’t leave me again…”

Stephanie still doesn’t move. Shaking from head to toe, Barry leans closer to her. He can’t hear a heartbeat when he presses his ear against her chest. Moving up slightly, he can’t hear her breath from her parted lips either.

He can’t breathe. It feels like a train has run him over. Only that it would hurt less than this.

“No, no, no, no, no…” He gulps, his vision growing blurry when tears inundate his eyes. “Please, Steph...”

He observes her, heartbroken by the pained expression in her face. It is stuck like that. If only he could do something, if he could save her… A crazy idea suddenly reaches him. Lifting one shaking hand, Barry snaps his fingers. The electricity curses through, crackling in his hands and illuminating her pale skin. He hesitates, but the thought that he’s running out of time convinces him to try it. He has to.

“Please work…. Please, please… please work…” Closing his eyes tight and mentally praying to any and all deities he can think of, he puts his hand over her heart. The electricity passes over to her, and Stephanie lightly spasms with it.

He holds. His heart continues to race as he watches her expectantly.

Boom, boom. Boom, boom.

Although she remains still, Barry can hear a faint strangled inhale coming from her.

“Stephanie?” He quickly asks, so much so that he runs over the syllables.

Her eyelashes flutter. Barry holds his breath. She frowns, letting out a pained yet weak groan. Still, he almost starts crying in relief.

“S-Steph...” He calls her again, gingerly cradling her face in his palm.

Stephanie opens her eyes. A blinking light stabs them. A person is very close to her as his face comes into focus. All she can see is a pair of gentle dark eyes she is very familiar with. Her fuzzy brain is having trouble recognizing them. Now they’re also flooded in fear and concern. He’s moving his lips, but she can’t hear the sounds he’s uttering. A loud whistling in her ears makes it impossible to focus.

Stephanie tiredly stares at him. She wants to move, to speak, to do something, but she can’t. Everything hurts. Her brain burns with a fog that quickly eats up her thoughts. She needs to lift her arm and touch him, make sure he’s really there and not just a dream.

Barry...

She can’t.

Her sore body and mind take over her. Stephanie’s eyes roll into her skull. Despite it all, she smiles. Because he’s here with her. She can feel his warmth. As long as he’s there, she groggily thinks, everything will be alright.

Stephanie gives in to exhaustion and forsakes herself to darkness once again. He hears him screaming her name, so loud that it overpowers the loud whistling in her ears.

“Steph!!” Barry’s heart skips a beat. The tears that had frozen in his eyelashes freely travel down his cheeks when he notices she has grown completely still again. “S-Steph?”

He continues to sob, desperately clinging her body against his chest as a harrowing void fills his chest.

An unexpected knock makes little Stephanie freeze. She leaves her homework and waits, fearing who might be at the door. The knock comes again, this time accompanied by a kind voice.

“Tephie!” Barry insists. “Open up!”

Hurrying to her feet, Stephanie runs to the door in astonishment and opens it to let him in. With a mildly mischievous smile, Barry rushes in as soon as he is able to. She follows him with her gaze as he goes to the table and puts the homework away.

“Barry!” She whispers at first, but then she realizes she doesn’t have to. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m here to cheer you up” He drags something out of his pocket. “I know you argued with your mom and dad again. They aren’t home, right?”

“No, they’re still working” Stephanie goes after him as Barry goes to the TV. He introduces the mysterious object he carried and hid in his hands into the VHS player. “Barry, what…?”

“I found this really cool movie” He looks at her with a grin. “I know you’re gonna love it, we can do a sleepover!”

“Those never end well” She smiles a little in spite of herself. “Remember that time you chased me around the house and knocked down my mom’s favorite vase?”

“I only wanted to tickle you…” He defended himself as he set the movie up.

Stephanie laughs, shaking her head at him. Barry only shows him an innocent grin.

“What movie is this?” She asks as they both sit in the ground as they always do.

“The Breakfast Club”

“Haven’t heard of it”

“Shame on you!”

“What’s it about?”

“Just watch the movie!”

She giggles, trying to hold the laughter in and focus on the movie. Still, she looks at Barry. His presence has cheered her up already, and the arguments with her parents don’t seem as important anymore.

The boy turns to her as well, sweetly smiling in return. It is an expression that has etched in her memory. Even after all this time.

As her senses return, reality and dream mix as the latter slowly dissolves. A boy is sitting close to her. The same one from her dream.

Barry stares at her with those warm dark brown eyes. A happy twinkle shines in them.

There are dark circles under his eyes, seeming gloom and inundated in tears. She can tell even as he averts his gaze, absently staring at the window. But not seeing it.

His smile is wide and bright, glad that the plan works and she finds the movie entertaining.

There is no sight of that smile, only a preoccupied gesture that has his lips tightly pursed. When they’re not, they shake with the meek sobs that wreck his torso.

What’s wrong? Why is Barry crying?

Disoriented, she glances around. A bright white hospital bed surrounds her. The walls are made of tiles and make the whole room cold. She is resting in a soft bed, with a thin sheet covering her body. When she looks to the side she focuses on him.

“B… B…” She tries to call out, but speech has left her. Nonetheless, his sobbing halts.

“Steph?” He gasps, hurriedly wiping his tears and leaning forward in the chair he’s sitting in. “Are you awake?”

“Ba… Barry…” She opens her mouth, trying to reply.

“No, no, no, don’t speak. Save… save your energies!”

Stephanie only groans, overwhelmed with discomfort and pain as the veil of sleep completely fades. It had been safe and comfortable, but consciousness feels like a torture. All the unpleasant sensations that plague her multiply when a sudden pressure engulfs her as Barry throws himself to hug her.

“Oh, Steph...” He dissolves in feeble sobs as he gingerly squeezes her in his arms. “You’re okay… For a moment there, I… I thought I lost you...”

“B-Barry…” The word gets stuck in her raspy throat and dry mouth. The effort causes a violent coughing fit that shakes her entire body.

“I’m so sorry!” Barry immediately pulls away, giving her some room to breathe.

Stephanie continues to cough, wincing as the strain only brings more pain that layers on top of the existing one. Barry dissolves in apologies as he hurries to pick up the water bottle that he kept ready in the table beside him and hands it to her.

The coughing fit lessens enough to let her drink, but she can’t reach out to take the bottle from him. Stephanie’s arms feel heavy as though they’re made out of lead. Every single muscle hurts and she can only manage a pathetic attempt at reaching out. The arm heavily falls down onto the bed again. She huffs in resigned frustration.

“Hey, it’s okay, I got you” Barry opens the bottle for her and brings it up to her lips.

As much as she appreciates the help, Stephanie can’t help but to scowl a little. She feels completely useless, being unable to even hold up a plastic water bottle.

“I’m sorry about that…” Barry tells her. “You’re still weak, I need to… you need to…”

Not really listening to him, Stephanie lightly nods her head. Understanding the gesture, he puts the water away and returns the bottle to its place on the table. She hadn’t realized how dry her throat was until she drank.

“What…?” Stephanie finally manages to croak out, her voice still hoarse and raspy.

“What happened?” He completes for her, earning a nod so mild that he barely sees it. “You had an accident at the lab… I… the… the force field exploded”

Stephanie closes her eyes as the memories come to her. On top of all the unwell, a nasty feeling grows in the pit of her stomach. She vividly remembers it now. The iron claw of fear returns to her, even if as a shadow of its former self. The force field went out of control. That explains why every fiber of her body hurts in a way it never had before. It’s like the aftermath of a thousand workouts put together, only that even worse.

“You’re okay, though” Barry tries to reassure her. “You broke a few bones, but you’ll heal and… you’ll recover in no time, right?”

Unable to participate in Barry’s optimism, she continues frowning. Having the haunting suspicion that she broke some ribs, Stephanie cautiously breathes in. Indeed, a sharp pang reaches her side when she does. Watching her grimace, Barry can only wince in empathy, wishing there was something he could do to help.

“Do you... need anything?” He kindly offers, fighting the urge to fidget. “Water, food? Are you cold?”

Stephanie whines, reaching out her hand. He doesn’t hesitate to take it.

“Me?” He questions, earning a soft nod from her. “I’m here, Steph, not going anywhere”

To further demonstrate, Barry plops back down on the chair, squeezing her hand. She seems to at least be a little more at ease now. He breathes out in relief as well, trying not to make it too obvious.

Just when everything was starting to settle down, the door to the room urgently swings open. They both turn their heads in startle. A blond mop of hair sticks out, and familiar blue eyes sweep the room.

“Stephanie…” Ben utters, barely glancing at Barry before he settles on her.

“Hey, man…” Barry warns him, getting back up. “Take it easy with her, okay?”

“Of course” The other gravely nods. “Thanks for looking after her, I got here as fast as I could”

“Ben…” She croaks, letting go of Barry’s hand and reaching out for him.

“Hello” The aforesaid does his best to smile, even if wrinkles of concern form on his face. “How are you feeling?”

Stephanie only moves around in the bed, feeble. She wishes she could just get up and give him a hug. Give them both a hug. But her body is screaming for her to lie still and rest. Defeated, she only sighs and tiredly leans her head on the pillow.

“Is she okay?” Ben asks, bearing the physical manifestation of utter heartbreak in his voice.

“Yeah, she’s just…” Barry sighs in exhaustion. “A little weak right now”

The two share a preoccupied glance. They murmur as Barry puts him up to date on what the doctors told him. She should be okay. The accident was bad, but the important thing is she survived it. She’s out of danger now. All she needs is rest.

“Don’t… mutter…” Stephanie weakly begs them, only feeling worse about it.

“Sorry” Ben turns to her once more, forcing out another smile and holding up something that he had been clinging in his hands. “I brought you these”

Stephanie manages to genuinely smile for the first time as she watches Ben. The beautiful bouquet of flowers is gingerly put over the table. Roses. They brighten up the room with a touch of color. From there, Stephanie can also smell their pleasant scent.

“I… actually wanted to apologize, Stephanie” Ben admits then. He uses his professional voice, the one Stephanie has heard many times when they talk about work. “It was my fault that such a horrible thing happened”

“What?” Barry pipes up, watching the scene develop. “How could it be your fault?”

“I was in charge of the technology” The other tells him, then turning back to her. “I should have avoided it, I should have kept the computer from glitching like that”

Barry averts his gaze. For the first time, he sees the situation from a very different perspective. Glitch… His gut twists in a nasty manner when realization hits. The technology glitched. It isn’t the first he hears of it, even if they don’t know . Something tells him it wasn’t an accident. One thing is for certain, though, it wasn’t Ben’s doing.

“I-I’m sure it wasn’t your fault, man” Barry pats his shoulder, but Ben shakes his head.

“It was my responsibility” He insists. “I still can’t understand what happened but… I should have known… I should know”

“Stop…” Stephanie pleads, hating that the situation only worsens.

“I should at least have been there with you, to...” Ben’s bright blue eyes become watery with tears. “To protect you when it happened”

“That’s true” Barry agrees, but corrects himself when he realizes how it sounds. “I mean me! I shouldn’t have left you alone, Steph, I feel terrible”

The two of them softly talk over each other, taking the blame as they reassure the other.

“Guys…” She breathes in slowly, successfully catching their attention. And, relieved that it doesn’t develop in another coughing fit or a wave of pain. “If you were there… you would have… just… gotten hurt too…”

That small effort has rid her from any of her remaining energies, but it was hopefully worth it. The silence heavily falls on them. It reigns. The boys look down to their feet, filled with remorse and anguish. Both of them care deeply about Stephanie, they realize as they look up at each other, it’s the one thing they have in common.

“Well, I…” Ben gulps, giving a third attempt at a smile. “I should get back to work, there’s a lot to do right now”

“Don’t... worry” Is all Stephanie manages to tell him to assuage his fear. “I’ll be... okay”

“Hey, Barry?” When the boy peers at him, surprised, Ben continues. “Look after her?”

“I will” They shake hands, like they did less than a day ago. “I promise”

Showing his best effort yet, Ben smiles once again. Then, as he waves goodbye at Stephanie, he quietly leaves the room. After closing the door behind him, Ben exchanges a glance with Barry. The boy nods his head, assuring him he will keep his promise. He doesn’t need to tell him twice.

“He’s so… sweet…” Stephanie languidly says, although her ability to speak is returning little by little.

“Yeah…” Barry bites his lip, watching the spot Ben used to be in. “Ben’s a nice guy”

He feels stupid for being jealous of him at that very moment. Of course, he wishes he could have spent all those years with Stephanie like he has. Years that she spent with Ben instead of with him. Perhaps it’s because Barry was so close to losing her that every single second away from her, past or future, suddenly feels unbearable.

Gathering himself, he takes a deep breath. There is still the present. He can be with Steph now. So he will be there, because she needs him. Because he wants to be there.

“Anyway” Barry grins at her, hoping the gesture is uplifting. “What do you need, Steph?”

Once again, she holds her hand out. He laughs a little as he delicately wraps his fingers around hers. Suddenly, the pang of jealousy in his chest dissipates.

“That’s right” A bright and more genuine grin grows on his lips. “That’s where we left of”

Just when he’s about to sit, however, Stephanie tugs at his hand. He looks up at her, frozen mid—movement. Their eyes meet. An unspoken need glows in hers while his are a reflection of the softness he currently feels. Because of her.

“Closer” She just asks him, and he doesn’t have the heart to complain. A part of him is afraid that he will hurt her in that fragile state, but his need to comfort her overcomes it.

“Okay” Barry sweetly smiles, pausing for a moment as he stands up straight again.

Stephanie makes an effort to scoot while he glances around. His hoodie rests over the back of the chair, so he takes it and gingerly places it over her. Stephanie smiles and gladly shrinks under the warm garment. Barry looks around again, making sure there’s nothing else she might need before he lies down with her and settles there.

“Barry?”

“Stop talking, Steph!” He nervously hisses, but when he hears how hard that sounded even in his worry, he corrects his tone to a more playful one. “Gosh, I’m the one that rambles around here, okay? You have no right taking my place like that”

She smiles, and the beautiful sight warms Barry’s heart. It replaces the lonely coldness that had harbored inside his chest for so many hours. Of uncertainty and fear.

“What if I…?” She still says, even if she obliges and quiets nonetheless.

“Need something?” He completes for her again. “Let me think…”

Barry carefully goes to lie down in the bed with her. He moves slowly, slower than he ever has. As he lightly sinks down into the bed, Stephanie immediately accommodates. She snuggles closer to him, sighing in content when their sides are pressed together.

“Okay, here’s what we’ll do” Barry can’t help but to smile as she comfortably leans her head on his shoulder. “You can squeeze my hand”

“Mm-hm” Is all she says as she closes her eyes, finally feeling at ease.

He exudes a soothing warmth that envelops her and makes her feel at home. Although he is fidgety and restless, he tries to stay still. Not move an inch. As small as the gesture is, Stephanie treasures it fondly. While she is wondering in the cozy state he helped her achieve, Barry is being true to his word by rambling on.

“One squeeze if you need comfort, two if you need water or food...”

“Mm-hm…”

“Oh, and three if you need me to get the doctor or something”

“Mm-hm”

“Did I miss anything? What else?”

Barry waits, assuming Stephanie is thinking about it too. After a few seconds of silence, and a very telling sound, he glances down at her. She is softly breathing. Barry feels a fluttering in his stomach while he watches her sleep in his shoulder.

“Sleep well, Tephie…” He whispers to himself, smiling fondly.

The overwhelming worry that had haunted him for so many hours grows smaller. It still shimmers in the surface, but leaves room for something different. Like the wave of affection that reaches him.

Barry takes a breath, gently wrapping his hand around hers. He holds it. If she wakes and needs something, he’ll be ready for when she squeezes it. For now, he will rest with her.

Not moving from that position, Barry closes his eyes. He feels the inviting and well-deserved slumber catch up to him. He falls asleep delicately squeezing her hand and hoping to infuse her with all his energy for a speedy recovery.

Tag list: @scared-to-be-lonely345 // Ask to be added to be notified when I post for this series!!

#loves worth running to #lwrt #barry allen #barry allen x reader #barry allen x oc #barry allen imagine #ezra miller #justice league #justice league imagine #justice league series #dc #dc series #dc imagine #oc #series #original character

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a-square-minus-one · 3 years

Text

Honey 10

Thank you for those who have stuck to this progressing story. Here is the new chapter. You can find the whole story on AO3 and fanfic.

I killed him.

Raven wakes up long before the team realizes she has. She can’t even register the itchy hospital bed sheets on top of her; her limbs are glued to the cot. Her chest expands as she breathes but she’d struggle less breathing underwater.

Malchior was a disgusting being. Intent to create chaos wherever he went. His only goal was to wreak havoc because he could and because no one could stop him. His life’s work was figuring out ways he could outdo his last destructive feat. His eyes only twinkled when he was asserting his dominance over something.

And she had killed him.

Or at least, separated his consciousness from its physical manifestation.

Or can you even separate that?

She made his limbs stop working.

His mouth would no longer form incantations.

Where would his thoughts go?

Would he be able to sort them or even hear them?

Or were they just whispers on another plane of existence?

Nausea makes Raven sit abruptly, the IV tugging painfully in her arm. She feels more than tastes the vomit fly out of her mouth. Chunks of yellow bits propel out onto the floor next to her, right by Starfire’s purple boots. Starfire is quick to move Raven’s hair out of the way, despite the fact that doing so sinks her boots right into the undigested food. A few tears escape Raven’s eyes.

“Star…” she groans, making a feeble attempt to push Starfire out the way but the alien just shushes her and rubs her hand over Raven’s back. A green hand extends a plastic cup of water towards her.

“Small sips,” Gar reminds her. She takes the cup out of his hands and raises it to her lips. Raven stiffens when he moves closer, replacing Starfire’s hands with his own. She stares over the rim of the cup at his torso, feeling her eyebrows crinkling. He picks up the hair from her neck. She hears a snap and feels her hair moving left to right. Then he’s at a reasonable distance again. She places a hand on her warm, now bare, neck.

“You-” she clears her throat. “-you can tie a ponytail?”

“Can’t you?” Garfield asks, looking incredibly amused. She feels her face heat up as she places the water on the tray next to her and lays back on the cot. She looks to Star’s boots and then to her face.

“I’m so-”

“Shh I will be hearing none of that friend,” Starfire says, handing Raven a wipe. Raven wipes off one side of her lips. Her hand pauses when she gets to the other side.

“How many civilians?” Raven asks, her fingers trembling behind the tissue. Garfield immediately straightens out his relaxed shoulders. His jaw tightens. Starfire looks down to her feet. Raven turns to Cyborg.

“Two.”

Two fingers touch her lips as the contents of her stomach turn again. Her eyes well up as she swallows around the undigested food rising in her esophagus.

“Ages?” she asks in an almost imperceptible voice.

No one answers.

She clenches her fingers around the wipe and presses it to her forehead.

“Ages?” she pleads.

“54 and 65,” Cyborg says; his rage is like a hot iron in her side. Raven feels Starfire’s despair pelting her on the other side like an open waterfall. Garfield’s emotions are all sharp corners and metal bristles. She can’t even bear to approach the edges of it for fear that she’ll pop and everything will come pouring out of her. She sinks back into her cot trying to tighten her core under the pressure of all their emotions. She almost finds balance in the current until she senses something, like seaweed twisting on her toes when she’s swimming in the ocean.

“You’re not telling me something,” she says, eyeing Garfield who hasn’t looked her way since tying up her hair. She almost didn’t want to ask considering how tenuous her hold on herself is.

“There was a six year old boy,” Nightwing says, entering the room with arms crossed over his chest. He leans against the doorframe of the med bay. Raven lets out a long breath. She spends a lot of her life thinking about how she breathes. Breathing is the first step to meditation. Right now she wonders what it would be like to be trapped at the end of a long exhale.

“He-”

“Is in ICU,” Nightwing finishes. She brings knees to her chest and sinks her head into them, gripping the fitted sheet on the cot. Her throat is one fire.

“We have to visit the family,” she says, looking at her team members. Everyone pauses.

“We did,” Garfield says, scratching the back of his neck the way he does when he’s pensive or nervous. Raven squints her eyes. She lays her legs flat on the cot.

“I have to visit the families,” she says, shifting to get up. Garfield quickly puts his hands on her shins and she almost kicks him off in surprise.

“You can’t,” Garfield says.

“Why not?”

“The public doesn’t love us right now,” Nightwing says, moving from his position at the door.

Then she feels it, pressing against her. Fire, all around her, filling the gaps between her fingertips, licking up the back of her knees. She almost gasps at the intensity of it.

“You’re angry,” she says, quickly looking up at Nightwing. A few strands of her hair have escaped the ponytail Garfield made for her. Starfire steps forward.

“We all are,” she says. Raven doesn’t look her way, keeping her eyes locked on the immobile Nightwing. This is a different anger. Nightwing knows she knows; their bond hasn’t faded in the years since she went into his mind.

“Where’s Malchior, Raven? Nightwing asks, his index finger twitching against his bicep. The fire around her stops all together. Something cool, fragile, and thin settles over them like a layer of frost on water. Then Raven makes the mistake of looking down. A fireball hits her in the chest like a cannon, she tumbles backwards on the cot.

“Damnit Raven!” Nightwing says. She looks up at his face, now red underneath his mask.

“Yo dude, chill out. She just woke up,” Garfield says. Nightwing whips towards him, his index finger inches away from Garfield’s chest. Raven is ashamed that she feels immediate relief at Garfield’s expense.

“How about instead of worrying about Raven you explain to me where the hell all the animosity for me came from?” Nightwing says, leaning much too far into Garfield’s personal bubble. Garfield leans back and tilts his head.

“Dude, clearly that wasn’t me.”

“So what you’re saying is that you’re not you when you transform into other animals?” Nightwing poses this as a question but the fact that each word is coming out like hisses between his clenched teeth makes it seem like he has already decided his answer.

“You know this isn’t just one of my other animal forms and could you check your tone?” Garfield asks. Raven feels his irritation like pricks from a cactus. She wiggles her fingers.

“Everytime the Beast has been present, I have been targeted,” Nightwing’s tone is even when he says this but punctuated in a manner that suggests he has ruminated on this and has already come to his own conclusions. His words sound rehearsed.

“That’s just not true and either way I’ve shown you for years that I’ve been able to control my powers as much as everyone else on the team, if not better.”

“You weren’t able to two days ago.”

“We don’t fight magical dragons everyday,” Garfield bites out and Nightwing swivels towards Raven again.

“And apparently we never will again!” Spit flies out of Nightwing’s mouth as he leans over the end of Raven’s cot. She sits up straight even though Nightwing’s words land heavy like a punch to her stomach.

“Almost sounds like you’re going to miss him,” Raven hisses back. Nightwing’s face is so red that Raven is sure it will explode off of his body.

“How can you be so desensitized to the loss of a life?”

“Jesus Nightwing relax! It isn’t like she hunted this man down, which is more than I can say about you and Slade...every six months...like clockwork!”

“And yet he’s still alive.” The muscles on Nightwing’s neck are straining as he turns towards Garfield, bumping his chest a little. Any other man would have taken a step back and on any other occasion Garfield would too but right then, he doesn’t.

“Is that because you haven’t tried or because you’ve never gotten close enough,” Garfield says, jutting his own chest outwards so it bumps Nightwing’s.

“Much closer than you did when he turned Terra into stone.”

“Dude what in the actual fuck?” Garfield growls.

“That is quite enough!” Starfire yells, wedging herself between the pair. “You have both done the crossing of the line! Friend Raven is barely recovered!”

Neither man stands down, glaring at each other over Starfire’s shoulders. “Are you going to arrest me Richard?” Raven asks, chin tilted upwards. Nightwing turns away from Starfire and removes his hand from his utility belt.

“He will do no such thing-” Starfire starts.

“You’re not being fair,” he says. Raven tilts her chin higher and arches an eyebrow.

“If you are not going to arrest me then we have more important things to talk about right now than any morally ambiguous decisions I made that there is no way I can undo,” Raven mumbles. “Even if I really wanted to.”

Nightwing runs a hand through his hair then drops both of his hands on his hips. He’s looking her in the eyes. Anyone else wouldn’t be able to tell because of his mask but she knows he is. He’s trying to consolidate all his anger into a concentrated cube. She respects the effort. Garfield, who is hunched over like his spine is ready to break through the skin of his back, clearly does not.

“We have two of your brothers in custody. Lust and Gluttony. I will be handling interrogations. You can watch from another room. ”

Raven sucks in her bottom lip. She knows her brothers better than Nightwing but she’s on thin ice with him as is. She’d have to let him cool down a little before she can get anywhere near that room.

“If you’re going in alone, I need to heavily armor you.”

Nightwing shrugs stiffly. She nods.

Behind Nightwing, Garfield takes his exit; his anger is radiating off of him like an electric heater. Nightwing looks after him, his lips in a straight line but doesn’t try to stop him.

“How much of a dick was I?” Nightwing asks once Garfield has left the room.

“12/10 bro,” Cyborg says, rubbing his forehead. Nightwing cringes.

“I’m going to go talk to him,” Raven says, looking at Cyborg and then towards her IV. Cyborg looks hesitant at first but eventually sighs and does as he’s told.

...........................................................................

“This is very carnivalesque.” Raven says as she sits next to Garfield on the roof. Garfield raises an eyebrow at her “Usually you’re the one who comes to see me on the roof.”

“What?” Garfield asks.

“Nothing,” Raven says, looking down at her feet. She’s not as good as he is at this.

“You should be in the med bay for observations.”

“With all the healing it would be very hard to kill me,” she says. She feels a few fat drops of rain smack her cheek but Garfield doesn’t flinch so she stays put. Raven looks up at the thick clouds moving in the sky.

“Do you think you’ll die like the rest of us?” Garfield asks. Random. Raven hums. “I mean your father...sorry I know it’s a touchy subject-”

“No, go ahead,” Raven says, keeping her eyes on the sky. A warmth spreads in her chest like when she drinks hot tea. It’s been nice for her to see how delicate Garfield is with her boundaries in the last couple of years.

“Trigon is immortal. Does that make you immortal too?” he asks.

“I really hope not,” Raven mumbles immediately. “I’m not a god.”

Her mind immediately goes to Malchior’s lifeless body beneath her.

“Don’t lose any sleep over him,” Garfield says. Raven hums again. “Malchior. That’s who you’re thinking about, right?”

Raven looks away from the sky. Garfield’s lashes are dark and long. He’s green almost everywhere but around his pupils there is a rim of orange that she’s always been fascinated by.

“I took his life away,” she says, curling up her bare toes. “I-I’m afraid…”

“You don’t have to tell me,” Garfield interrupts softly. She feels the warmths curl through her insides again. She has to break eye contact.

“I don’t know if I made the right choice. It kind of feels...heavy? If that makes sense.”

“It makes sense.”

It grows quiet again.

“Nightwing was more angry at me than he was at you,” she says. Silence.

A few drops of water land on her thighs. She’s getting a little cold now. She had only come out in the oversized t-shirt she was wearing in the med bay. She thinks it’s Cyborg’s. It fits her like a dress.

“I think he might be right.”

Raven looks up at him, ready to protest. The protests die on her lips when she makes eye contact.

“I keep banking on the fact that I can control the Beast but it kind of sucks. He’s pulling at me all the time.”

“He doesn’t like Nightwing?”

“...He doesn’t like Nightwing’s power over me. Doesn’t like that he’s the one who calls the shots. Which is the complete opposite of me. Usually Nightwing and Cyborg are the ones measuring their dicks to see who gets to be boss.”

Raven snorts.

“Would it be so bad to let him out every once and a while? What else could he want?” Raven asks. Garfield presses his lips together. And his silence stretches like cheese. Just when she thinks it's about the tear, it stretches some more. For much longer than it should. She can’t pinpoint exactly what changes but she is suddenly hyper aware of how long she’s been looking into his eyes. She isn’t about to let on that she noticed the shift though because that would mean that it actually happened.

But maybe she should move?

Or look down?

Why isn’t he saying anything?

Did he lean forward?

Breathe Raven.

She inhales sharply.

There is a flash of lighting in her peripheral vision.

He doesn’t break eye contact.

“Can I see the scar The Beast left?” he finally whispers, keeping eye contact. Oh, that’s what he was thinking about.

She can’t think straight. What did I think he was thinking about? She pulls up her shirt without a second thought, looking down with him...

Then screams internally when she remembers she isn’t wearing any pants.

She freezes. Thunder rumbles.

He doesn’t say anything. She wonders if she’d hear him anyway over the long ‘AGHH!’ reverberating in her head.

She looks up at him; he hasn’t said anything about her lack of pants. Instead he’s staring intently at her side, eyebrows furrowed and bottom lip wedged between his teeth.

Breathe. The team has changed in front of each other before. No big deal.

She wishes she can get a clear read on his emotions but she can barely get a hold on hers.

Then he reaches out his fingertips and slowly runs over the ridges of the three bumpy stripes on her side.

This time she actually shrieks out loud, dropping her shirt immediately. A few rocks on the shore explode into a million little fragments. He pulls his hands away like he just accidentally touched a stove.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry! Jesus, I don’t know why I did that,” he squeals immediately, running a hand through his hair roughly.

Aghhhhhh

“No! It’s... um...fine.Your fingers were just cold.”

The skin around her scars is burning.

Aghhhh .

He shuts his eyes so tightly that she can see little wrinkles at the edges of them. It looks like he wants to turn into a mosquito and fly away. She stays quiet. He places a hand over his eyes.

“Listen...I...I’m sorry about that. The touching,” his voice squeaks. He clears his throat. “But also giving you the scar in the first place.”

He reluctantly moves his hands away and looks at her again.

“I’m serious. I don’t want to hurt Nightwing. I don’t want to ever hurt you,” Garfield says, his skin changing from brown to green as his blush fades.

Agggghhhhh.

She hums.

Not the right response.

He sucks his lips into his mouth, face getting incredibly brown just as it was resuming its original shade.

“I-” he starts.

She looks at him.

He looks at her.

He flies away.

#bbrae

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agentfreckles · 4 years

Note

Can you share your thoughts on what must have been A’s state of mind after the night at the carnival at the end of book 2? Like what was going through their head for the whole month they tried to avoid us?

Buckle up anon because this is going to be a long one. It’s also going to contain pretty heavy spoilers for Book 2 and the first Book 3 demo so I’m going to put this under the cut.

Oh god A was probably all over the place during that month between Books Two and Three. And they were going through the same old feeling denial nonsense they always do, but this time it was dialed up to eleven because A made the gargantuan mistake of letting the detective hold their hand/rest their head on their shoulder and they liked it. And in A’s backwards world, that kind of thing just cannot fly.

A lot of things happened in the last chunk of A’s Book 2 route. Depending on your choices in the Trapper battle, you either got the iconic ‘Tu Omnia’ moment that I guarantee A 10000% remembers taking place or you rescued A and regardless of whether Sanja lived or died as a result A now has to grapple with the fact that you broke orders to save them as well as why you did it. And then on top of that, we get the end of the book where the detective indirectly asks A if they enjoy the way they make them feel (”do you enjoy being off-kilter?”) and A admits that they enjoy it very much. Also don't forget that it’s A who brushes their hand against the detective’s, opening the door for the detective to do more if they so choose. And if they do take it a step further with the hand holding or putting their head on A’s shoulder, A (1) lets it happen and (2) ends the book looking directly at the detective with massive heart eyes. That is a massive amount of progress in a very short amount of time for someone who up until this point has been denying their feelings at every turn. But as always seems to be the case with A, the second that moment breaks they immediately shift into damage control mode.

Here’s what I think happened after Book Two ended: A and the detective enjoy their romantic little moment and either the firework show ends or the rest of UB meets up with them and the second everyone shifts back into work mode A’s monkey brain turns back on and they do their signature move. You know, that “My god, what have I done?!” internal meltdown they always seem to have when so much as one brick from that impenetrable wall surrounding their heart gets knocked down. This is kept mostly at bay until the end of the evening when UB and the detective go their separate ways and A finally gets to be alone with their thoughts at the Warehouse.

This is where A’s heart and head have their latest fist fight. You have the heart who has memorized every detail of that scene under the fireworks: the conversation, the detective’s warmth, how their hand felt/how they felt leaned against them. All of this information has been categorized and tucked away in A’s massive “Definitely Not Romantic Thoughts About the Detective” mental file that they routinely pull up on days when they really want to suffer. But on the other end we have A’s head, the beast of practicality and pessimism who looks at that same firework scene and sees only one thing: danger. And this thought is joined by countless others saying things like “You can't do this,” “They deserve better,” “You’ll only end up hurting them in the end.” And the voices get louder and stronger and more persistent until they completely drown out what the heart is saying. It’s in that moment that A makes the decision to undo the damage they've done by any means necessary. And in this case, “any means necessary” translates to restricting any and all contact with the detective to purely professional matters and avoiding them like the plague in any situation that doesn't meet that criteria. So A spends the month between Books Two and Three doing just that. Conversations are brief and professional, a respectable distance is kept between them and the detective, and any nigglings of romantic feelings are quickly buried down and ignored.

Now if you ask me, all of that avoiding sure has made A quite sloppy in the demo. Like A flashing across the forest to an inch in front of the detective’s face the second they emerge after the encounter with the werewolves? The massive increase of arm and shoulder touches? The influx of word vomit such as the multiple times they explicitly state they're worried about the detective and yet not once do they tack on a hasty “We all are,” to try and cover their tracks? And the tension between A and the detective has always been bad, but never this stifling. I felt like I was being crushed under the weight of it while I was reading. It was that palpable. A is usually way more in control than this, or at least they were. But as is the case with many of life's problems, the more you ignore an issue the worse it seems to get. So now we have a month’s worth of buried feelings piled on top of all the other buried feelings we’ve gotten over the course of the series bubbling to the surface and threatening to spill over. And if A wasn't such a dumbass they would realize that this situation they’ve created for themselves is a thousand times worse than it would've been if they had just faced their feelings head on. But they chose the coward’s way out and they’ll only have themselves to blame when it blows up in their face later. And trust me, that’s going to be one hell of an explosion.

#sorry for the lengthy response anon #but A's clownery just makes me want to strangle them sometimes #cannot believe I stan this idiot #adam du mortain #ava du mortain #ask freckles #long post

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artificialqueens · 3 years

Text

Drag Con UK 2020 (Biadore) - Sarcastacnt

Greetings! I normally post over at that other place, but figured I would give this a shot since I do spend a lot of time lurking around these parts!

Leave me some love (or hate, either way) and let me know what you thought!

10:45am from Yanx

Conference room 7 at 1. Don’t be fucking late.

Adore frowned at her phone as she read the text from Bianca, it was the first she had heard from Yanx all day. No ‘hey Pussyfart!’,no ‘how’s it going?’. Nothing other then those instructions.

10:47am from Pussyfart Hi to you too bitch.

10:56am from Pussyfart I’ll be there.

~*~

The conference room door was shut when Adore arrived, it was ten to one so maybe the previous occupants weren’t finished yet. She tentatively raised her hand and knocked on the door.

A moment later the door opened and a hand reached out to grab Adore’s shirt before hauling her inside. Adore barley managed to get a startled cry out before she was shoved up against the now closed door, a warm, familiar body holding her in place.

“B! What the hell?!”

“You have no fucking idea how much I missed you.” Bianca moaned right in Adore’s ear as she began to kiss the younger queen’s neck. Her hands found Adore’s waist and pressed their hips together.

“You could have- oh fuckk…. You coulda come see me…” Adore wrapped her arms around Bianca’s shoulders and held her tight. She tilted her head back and moaned as Bianca continued her assault on Adore’s neck. “Or called me.”

Bianca huffed against her skin, “I’ve had zero time for anything. I forced them to give me a decent lunch break, otherwise I’d still be at my booth.” She said before making her way from Adore’s neck to her ear with small licks and brief kisses.

Adore’s eyes had fluttered shut while Bianca worked her sensitive neck but she managed to pry one eye open to speak. “You should be spending that time eating then. Ohhh… you never eat properly when you’re working.” Despite her words, Adore was holding Bianca tightly.

“You want me to go eat?” Bianca muttered in her ear, making Adore shiver. “Or would you like me to fuck your gorgeous ass?” She ran her hands down to said ass and grabbed it roughly.

“Yanxx…” Adore moaned.

Bianca chuckled to herself as she moved one hand to grope Adore’s rapidly hardening cock through her pants. She was already well on her way to a full erection and Bianca could feel how fast Adore’s heart was beating every time she kissed her neck. “Tell me to stop chola.” Bianca challenged as she moved to look at Adore’s face before swiftly undoing the button of her tight, distressed jeans and pushing them open. “Tell me you don’t want me.”

Adore shook her head violently, “I always want you. Please don’t stop, I missed you so much.”

It had been almost a month since they’d been together. With Bianca in London for Jamie and Adore touring South America, there just hadn’t been time for them to meet up. Even phone and FaceTime calls had been few and far between.

“Then stop complaining and relax.” Bianca said, pressing their foreheads together as she reached around Adore to lock the conference room.

“Always ordering me around.” Adore rolled her eyes with a smirk, knowing that her childish behaviour would irritate Bianca.

“Hmm.” Was all Bianca said as she claimed Adore’s lips in a bruising kiss. She ignored the mess they were making of their make up as she licked at Adore’s lips. Her giant purse contained make up wipes and both of their foundations and lipsticks anyway. “I thought about told you to stop complaining?”

Adore blinked a few times, the kiss had left her brain foggy. “Unhun, you did. I like complaining though, what are you gonna do about it?” she teased, Bianca was being more assertive then usual and that almost always translated to hot, aggressive sex.

Bianca arched one painted on eye brow, “That how you wanna play chola?” she pulled Adore away from the wooden door and smacked her ass, hard.

Adore yelped before groaning, “I don’t know grandpa, you said yourself that you’ve been busy. You sure you’re not too old and tired to keep up with me?”

“Bitch.” Bianca said as she smacked Adore again and pushed her pants to the ground. Adore kicked off her shoes and stepped out of the jeans. As soon as she saw the black thong Adore wore, Bianca twisted the waist band in her hand. “Unlike your smart ass, I can go all night.”

“Sure you can.” Adore giggled before jerking as Bianca spanked her now mostly bare ass.

“I’m gonna make sure you have to spend the rest of the day on your feet. Your ass will be too sore to sit comfortably for a week.” Bianca said as she pulled Adore towards a table and pushed her to lay face down.

Adore tried to push herself up on her elbows to look at Bianca but the older queen gripped her bright green wig and pushed her head down. Once Adore complied with the desired position, Bianca turned her attention back to her ass. She ran her hands over the soft skin, the red marks from her hand only fueling her arousal. “Fuck I missed this ass.”

“Is that all I am to you?” Adore tried to sound put out but she couldn’t stop a laugh from escaping.

“Right now you’re a pain in my ass.” Bianca laughed as she spanked Adore a few more times. Seeing Adore squirm under her hands was quickly undoing her control.

“Oh fuck me…” Adore breathed as Bianca ran a finger over her entrance, applying just a little pressure to make her moan.

“Don’t worry baby, I have every intention of fucking you.” Bianca said, “Don’t fucking move.”

Adore did as she was told while Bianca went to her purse and pulled out a bottle of lube. The click of the cap made Adore shiver, the sound brining on memories of many days and nights lost in each other.

Bianca lubed up her fingers before shoving her index finger all the way inside Adore. Adore jerked at the sudden intrusion, “Fuck!” she cried out, gripping the edges of the table tightly.

“Relax love.” Bianca said softly, using her free hand to stroke the redden flesh of her ass. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Adore smiled at the words, no matter how rough they got, Bianca always made sure she wasn’t really hurting her. It was one of the many reasons Adore had fallen so much in love with her.

“Good boy.” Bianca praised her as her body relaxed. Once Adore started moving her hips against Bianca’s hand, she pushed another finger inside. “You’re so tight, fuck I can’t wait to feel you around my cock.”

Bianca fucked Adore with two and then three fingers, watching the singer fall to pieces. Adore started begging for more, begging for Bianca to fuck her properly.

“Not yet,” Bianca said as she pulled up the hem of her short dress and took off her tights and underwear. She hadn’t bothered to tuck, hoping that today would progress exactly as it had. “Open up.” Bianca said as she moved to stand closer to Adore’s head, maintaining the rough finger fucking as she did.

Adore turned her head to see Bianca’s impressive erection in front of her face. She licked her lips before opening her mouth, tongue sticking out.

Bianca grasped her erection and smacked it on Adore’s tongue a few times before pushing inside her eager mouth. “Fuck.”

Adore hummed around her mouthful, causing Bianca to thrust hard into her mouth. “Fuck I love the way you look sucking my cock.” Bianca said as she ran her thumb over Adore’s lower lip. “You’re such a cock slut.”

Moaning loudly, Adore willed her throat to relax as she took Bianca all the way in. No small feat and something Adore took great pride in. Her deep throating skills were second to none.

Watching Adore thrust against the table while taking Bianca’s cock was quite the view. Her loud moans were only serving to make Bianca fuck both her face and her ass faster.

When a particularly rough thrust from her hips made Adore gag loudly, Bianca slowly pulled out of her mouth, watching a trail of spit and precum stretch between her cock and Adore’s mouth. The sight made Bianca shiver and she removed her fingers, smacking Adore’s ass a few more times. “Ready?”

Adore grinned and nodded eagerly. “Fuck me Yanx, fuck me hard.”

Bianca chuckled and shook her head before grasping Adore’s hips and turning her body so that her legs were hanging off the edge. “You asked for it.” She said as she drizzled lube onto her erection and giving herself a few strokes before pushing all the way into Adore in one harsh move.

“Fuck!” Adore exclaimed, it only took a handful of thrusts slamming against her prostate before she was moaning against the table. “Oh fuck… fuck that’s so good.”

Bianca slapped her ass as she fucked Adore. “Was there ever any doubt? Fuck you feel so god damn good.”

The table groaned with every thrust of Bianca’s hips, protesting the rough treatment. Neither queen paid it any attention though, they were too lost in the feel of each other.

When Adore tried to reach down and touch her own dripping cock, Bianca grabbed both her hands and held them tightly behind her back. Interlocking their fingers, “Let’s see if I can make you cum with just my cock. Think you can do that for me?”

Adore moaned in response, “Can you last that long?” she managed.

“You’re really trying to piss me off aren’t you?” Bianca asked as she shifted Adore’s hands so she could hold both wrists with one hand. Once her right hand was free, Bianca brought it crashing down on Adore’s ass. With every slap, the reddened flesh jiggled and Adore cried out.

“Fuck! Fuck, Roy I’m close! Fuck don’t stop! Right there!” Adore exclaimed as she tried to rock her hips to meet Bianca’s thrusts.

“Cum for me baby boy. Cum on my cock right fucking now!”

Intentional or not, Adore came hard. Her internal muscles gripping and pulsing around Bianca’s cock, making her moan. “Fuck, Danny!” she cried out as she came, filling her lover.

They spent a few moments catching their breath before Bianca leaned forward to kiss the back of Adore’s neck before withdrawing from her body. Both groaned at the loss, “Don’t move love.” Bianca said, moving to grab a packet of wet wipes from her purse. She cleaned Adore up and helped her off the table before wrapping her in a tight hug.

“I love you.” Bianca said as she kissed Adore’s forehead.

Adore smiled, “Love you too. I really missed you though, you need to call me more.”

Bianca chuckled, “Says the person who disappears for days at a time. Phones work two ways love.”

“I know,” Adore sighed and buried her face in Bianca’s neck. “How much longer before you have to go back?”

Bianca glanced at the clock, “Hour and a half.” She said sadly, “When do you need to be back in L.A?”

Adore thought for a minute, “Wellll, my flight leaves tomorrow but I’m off until next Monday.”

“Can you change your flight? I can’t promise we’ll have a ton of time together…but I really don’t want to say goodbye yet.”

Adore traced her hand over Bianca’s cheek, the admission was out of character and the sad tone even more so. “Even if we only see each other at night it’ll be totally worth it.” Adore smiled and rubbed their noses together, “I’m not ready to say goodbye either. I’ll call the airline before I go back to my booth.”

They got dressed and fixed their destroyed make up. Adore grabbed a wet wipe and cleaned up the mess she had made on the floor while Bianca gave the room one last look. “Let’s go to the dressing rooms, maybe we can find some lunch.”

Adore nodded, “Oh! I think there’s pizza!”

Bianca laughed and slung her purse over one shoulder before taking Adore’s hand. “Fucking pizza.”

They left the room together, Bianca still holding Adore’s hand. When Adore questioned the public display, Bianca stopped walking and pulled Adore to her. “It’s time to stop hiding this.”

Adore’s eyes went wide. “Wait, what? Like for real? You’ve always said…”

“I know what I’ve said before but Danny, we’ve been together for more then four years at this point. The only ones who know about us are a handful of queens and our families.” She placed a hand on her cheek, “I’m ready to come out and piss off every other drag queen on the planet with the biadore hash tag that’ll blow up Twitter. I love you, I want everyone to know how happy you make me.”

Adore felt her eyes start to sting, “Oh Yanx… that’s so sweet. You feelin’ ok?”

“Shut up cunt. I’m trying to ask you something!”

Adore cocked her head to the side, “I already said we could make it Facebook official. What else could you wanna know?”

“I wanna know if you want to marry me chola.”

Adore’s jaw dropped and she simply stared at Bianca for a long few moments. “Really B?” she asked in a small voice.

Bianca took both Adore’s hands and nodded. “I love you, so much. You make me happy, I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

“Fuck, you’re gonna make me cry.” Adore said, trying to keep it together for the sake of her make up.

“Is that a yes?” Bianca was getting nervous.

Adore smiled so wide it threatened to split her face. Her green eyes, normally so bright seemed to positively sparkle. “Mmm, I’ll get back to you.” With that, Adore skipped off towards the dressing rooms, leaving a stunned Bianca in her wake.

“What… Hey! Get back here! That was a serious question you cunt!” Bianca called after the laughing figure before chasing after her.

Bianca caught up with Adore just as she reached the door to the enormous dressing room that all the queens were sharing. They burst through the doors laughing together, the queens already in the dressing room turned to face them with looks ranging from amusement to irritation.

“What have you two been up to?” came the eternally shady voice of Darienne Lake.

“Probably each other, behind a dumpster or something equally romantic.” Katya added.

“Only you think dumpsters are romantic you disgusting garbage person.” Trixie Mattel said fondly as she gave Katya a funny look, which sent the faux Russian into a fit of wheezey laughter.

“Thanks for your input, but I asked them.” Darienne rolled her eyes at the two blond queens. “So? Why are you so happy? There are thousands of people just outside those doors, that should make at least one of you miserable.”

“Oh fuck you-“

“Bianca just asked me a question.” Adore cut off Bianca’s reply to Darienne. She had a funny grin on her face and held her hands behind her back while she rocked back and forth on her heels.

Bianca whipped around to look at Adore, panic written all over her face. She had no idea what Adore was up to, or even what she was thinking.

“Which was..?” Katya prompted.

Trixie snorted, “It couldn’t have been that interesting. It’s Bianca! It’s not like she proposed or anything!”

“Proposed what?” asked Katya, looking very confused.

“Marriage! What else do people mean when they say someone’s proposed?”

Katya looked around and noticed that Bianca looked pale, even under her make up and Adore was grinning even wider then she had been a moment ago. “Oh mother, I do believe you may have been right after all.”

“I hate that voice!” Trixie laughed at Katya, “Wait, what did you say?” she turned to focus on Adore and Bianca. “No fucking way…”

Darienne clapped her hands together, “Are you serious?” she grabbed her phone, “Hold on! Lemme call Courtney!” she dialed and once the line connected said; “Miss Act! Our babies are finally getting married!”

Everyone in the room heard the loud scream come through the phone. Darienne closed the eye closest to the phone and passed it to Adore, “Tell her she owes me money for hearing aids!”

Before Adore could say anything, Bianca snatched the phone away. “Hey Pussyface. I did. I don’t know she hasn’t answered me yet and this whole thing suddenly became very public. Hold on.” She handed the phone back to Darienne.

“Are you going to answer her?” Trixie asked, her voice was hesitant.

Adore nodded, “Yep. But since she proposed out of nowhere I figured I would torment her a little bit first.” She turned back towards Bianca and took her hands, “I really couldn’t resist. Sorry Yanx.”

Bianca sighed, “It’s fine, I kind of wish I was dead right now but it’s fine.” She squeezed Adore’s hands, “So chola? What’s it going to be?”

Adore laughed, “You’re terrible at this!” she leaned forward, kissing Bianca sweetly. “Yes Roy, I will absolutely marry you.”

Bianca breathed a very visible sigh of relief and pulled Adore into a tight hug. “Fucking took you long enough.”

“Can we get excited now?” Darienne asked, “I’m pretty sure Courtney is going to die if we don’t start soon.”

Bianca rolled her eyes and Adore gave Darienne a thumbs up. “Go for it! We’re getting married bitches!”

A loud cheer came from most of the other queens as Bianca pulled Adore into a kiss, but not before whispering in her ear. “You’re gonna pay for this chola. Remember we’re sharing a bed for the next week. I can take my time.”

Adore shivered, “I can’t wait.” She said as Bianca kissed her, wrapping her arms tightly around Adore as she did so.

“You just wanted to piss me off so I’d take it out on your ass, didn’t you?” Bianca asked, “You could just tell me you’re into masochism.”

Adore grinned, “But you’re hot when you’re pissed off!” she laughed as she kissed Bianca again. ~*~

Later on that afternoon, Bianca walked by Adore’s booth and grinned as she saw the singer standing up, instead of reclining in the comfortable chair she had set up. Even when she had a down minute, Adore remained on her feet.

Bianca chuckled and made her way back to her own booth. She was very lucky to have Adore in her life and soon it was going to be official.

The End.

#rpdr fanfiction #biadore #bianca del rio #adore delano #canon compliant #drag con #smut #fluff #sarcastacnt #submission

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paaradoxum · 4 years

Text

BakuTodo Rec List of Fics Vol. II

It’s been a while since the last time I did the other list and many new, wonderful fics appeared (the dynamics will be the same: AO3 fics that includes top!Bakugou and bottom!Todoroki for those that are NSFW), so if you wanna check out here is Part I.

This time there are 32 fics in this list, I have more and probably I will make Part III soon.

Spoiler: EVERY SINGLE one of these stories are FUCKING AWESOME.

Rating: G

→ flowers die, feelings grow by kinneyb

Summary: When Bakugo first visits a local flower shop with Jirou, he buys some flowers in a lame attempt to piss off one of the employees - a guy named Shouto. But then he gets a little too invested in keeping his flowers alive.

→ Pretty by doop-doop.

Summary: Like so many things that had to do with Shouto, the question took Bakugou entirely by surprise. “Do you think I’m pretty?”

→ For a Single Moment by itsclowreedsfault.

Summary: Katsuki shakes his head with a sigh and an unbidden smile. Shouto's always been like an overexcited kid when it came to cats; Katsuki should've known he didn't stand a chance against them in Shouto's first visit to a cat cafe.

Rating: T

→ Ruin My Life by justhavesex.

Summary: He's not a vengeful person, really, he's not.

But him and Bakugou have started this little on-going war of theirs back in middle school when they were 10 years old and Todoroki had accidentally—if you got Todoroki drunk enough and fed his ego well enough he would, in fact, admit that it was very much on purpose—accidentally fed Bakugou's limited edition All Might magazine to his cat.

→ Aesthetic Distance by llyn.

Summary: This was around the time Shouto was appearing in all the blogs and rags and instagrams wearing a hideous faux fur coat of bright, hot neon like some awful crawling creature from an acid trip had been hunted and skinned, its pelt draped over Shouto's shoulders.

→ Dance To This by justhavesex.

Summary: Bakugou has never cared much about being an alpha, not really, not until he met the most frustrating omega in all existence: Todoroki Shouto.

→ Welcome to the Mile-High Club by minhakos.

Summary: In which Todoroki realizes that maybe airplanes aren't the only thing that should make him nervous.

→ Boyfriend Tactics by Esselle.

Summary: 'Shouto's eyes go impossibly wide. He seems to lose all powers of communication for a moment and just stands there, frozen, staring at Katsuki and the kitten. Finally, eventually, he utters the tiniest noise Katsuki has ever heard him make.

"Ah…" '

Katsuki comes to the aid of a small and fluffy civilian while on patrol.

→ Line by Line by Lillabelle.

Summary: With half his sketchbook filled with drawings of the guy, Katsuki wondered if he’s already crossed the line of being insanely creepy. They’ve never spoken, and he honestly only knew the person’s name was Todoroki Shouto because of role call in class. Shouto was just… so unique to look at with his half and half appearance. It was hard for Katsuki’s eyes not to get drawn to him. Not to mention they shared several classes, so if Katsuki ever got bored and felt like drawing something, there he was.

→ a todobaku one-shot collection by kagehinataboke.

Summary: all of my multiple, multiple, multiple todobaku one-shots. i stan two (2) dipshit boys that are obviously in love and hate with each other.

→ amaryllis by ?

Summary: The amaryllis has come to symbolize pride, determination and radiant beauty. Somehow this all suited Katsuki a lot more than Shouto expected.

→ tell ourselves a good lie by ElmoIsSatan. (In-Progress 12/?)

Summary: For a straight guy with anger issues, getting a “boyfriend” might just be his only escape.

Or-

Bakugo makes an impulsive decision and suddenly gains a boyfriend just to prove his parents wrong... The only problem is it’s all fake.

→ how to register for a library card (and get a boyfriend in the process) by Kaleid369.

Summary: “Friends have each other’s numbers, yeah?” Bakugou shrugs. “I don’t hate you, I guess.”

“Lucky me.”

“Lucky you,” Bakugou snorts. “I gotta go. Text me so I have your number.”

“I will.”

He's already started walking away when Shouto blurts out, “See you tomorrow?”

Bakugou shoots him a smirk over his shoulder, as if to say, Duh.

Shouto stands and stares at his retreating back, and the thought of kissing him pounds along with the beat of his heart.

→ on brand by dinosuns.

Summary: Midoriya is honestly unsure what’s worse: the tragic fact that Todoroki Shouto can make anything look objectively incredible or the fact Kacchan has six versions of the exact same photograph saved onto his camera roll.

Nobody saves a photo that many times by accident.

Kacchan set the bar, Todoroki raised it. That is not a good thing.

→ The Journey Home by dinosuns.

Summary: “Your hair looks real fucking nice.”

“I thought it was about time I grew it out,” Todoroki says, something wistful caught in his voice. “You were always saying I should.”

That’s true. And Bakugou is satisfied to know he was right about it looking good, but it’s not like he can share that with the fucking class anymore.

Bakugou tells himself that he's fine with how things turned out between them. He also tells himself he's not still in love.

Rating: M

→ Zephyr by yeetin. (In-Progress 4/?)

Summary: The breeze that sifted gently through a golden sea of tall, dry grass brought the tiny spike of a different scent. An inconspicuous little prickle down the spine, barely even worth paying attention to. Something no one else would even imagine being able to notice.

But Bakugou did.

→ Objection, Your Honor by Myona. (In-Progress (8/?)

Summary: Shoto Todoroki hated Katsuki Bakugou. And he had plenty of reasons to do so.

But he didn't know that how things can change for the two of them who saw nothing but trouble in each other's presence and life altogether. Katsuki was a trouble from the first time Shoto heard his name, to the first day he met the man.

Rating: E

→ On Hot Blondes and Drunken Hookups by Crossfire. (In-Progress 4/?) I love this so so much.

Summary: “I’m Bakugou. What’s your name, Pretty Boy?”

Shouto looks at the drink in his hand, then back to the beautiful blonde boy, then back to the drink and downs it in one go, ignoring the slight burn as it slides down his throat, and while it would have been more suave to appear unaffected, he gives his head a little shake. He takes a quick breath and forces the words out before he has a chance to realize what a massive mistake this all is.

“Hot blondes I want to bang can call me Shouto.”

→ Tick Tick Boom by Ajaxthegreat. (In-Progress 6/?) THIS is so good, I’m in love.

Summary: An exhausted socially awkward violin prodigy and a deaf punk rock drummer walk into a bar.

→ Better Take a Mental Picture by chibibeeee. This is HOT HOT.

Summary: The one where Deku watches Bakugou take Todoroki and their exhibitionist kink is unlocked.

→ Cover: Blown by darkanddank. (In-Progress 1/2)

Summary: Some undercover agents got hooked on drugs. Went full Stockholm Syndrome, flipped and joined up with the other side. As Bakugou’s palm went flat over Todoroki’s navel and dove beneath his closed zipper, Todoroki started to understand just how easy it might be to go rogue.

...aka cop Todoroki gets his world rocked so hard by bad guy Bakugou that he has an existential crisis

→ Just One Bite by Crossfire.

Summary: This particular fuckup begins when he saves a cat from a demon in a sketchy alley.

Well, maybe slightly before that when his esteemed hedge-witch mentor turned out to be an incubus who coincidentally turned him and his stupid nerdy neighbor into incubi.

Or maybe when he was born to a non-magic family, but early on developed minor magical inclinations that turned out to be not-so-minor and kind-of-hugely-destructive.

Wherever this fuckup was born, it’s culminated as follows: Bakugou has been an incubus for one hundred and twenty-two days, seven hours, and thirty-six minutes, has not had a single successful feed, and is essentially slowly starving to death. His mentor is suspiciously MIA and that stupid shitty nerd has managed to secure himself a two-person harem so it’s just Bakugou, starving. To death. Slowly.

→ Gangster by Brixxen.

Summary: Bakugou is a detective trying to solve a case that's been open for months. He ends up in a town and meets a man who could be his undoing...

Todoroki wasn't expecting the blonde at the bar to leave him wanting more...

→ How to spend a Friday night by veltana.

Summary: That's how Katsuki ended up on his bed on a Friday night leaning against the headboard with his laptop between his spread legs, his hard dick in his hand, watching Shouto open himself up for him on the screen.

→ Your Turn by doop-doop.

Summary: An extra scene/epilogue/continuation of smd.

Bakugou and Todoroki housesit for Bakugou's parents and take advantage of Bakugou's large bed.

→ Comfort by hellaradholly.

Summary: Katsuki agrees to be Shouto's roommate after UA despite having an unbearable crush on him.a gift for Katie for the BakuTodo Valentine's Day Exchange!

→ Empire of Dirt by castiiron, clairesail. (In-Progress 5/?)

Summary: There was something different about being with Bakugou Katsuki. Something that Shouto had been searching for tonight, to no avail. A consistent burn in his gut, the warmth of a fire that hadn’t been stoked in many years. Katsuki had been inexcusably rough with him. Harsh in a way that had pulled him back to reality. Shouto hadn’t realized he was missing out, being so used to what he knew; going through the motions, a means to an end. His life for the last few years had revolved around mediocre sex as a way to abate constant desire, always at the forefront of his mind.

Unhealthy coping mechanisms are easier to hide when you aren't screwing your ex-classmate.

→ Be Quiet by chibibeeee.

Summary: Katsuki and Shouto stay the night at Deku's. If only they had any self control, then they wouldn't have to keep so quiet.

→ Speak Softly My Sweet Villain by Brixxen.

Summary: Ask anyone in Tokyo and they’ll tell you the same thing. That the No.1 Pro Hero Todoroki Shoto is the perfect hero. He’s kind to everyone, always the first to arrive on a crime scene, always the calm and collected hero everyone wants him to be.

It was ironic how things happened to lead Shoto to his current situation. Him moaning and shuddering like a teenager, clinging to the strong perfect body of the most wanted villain in Japan, Ground Zero.

→ Peanuts and Wolves by cashmeresho.

Summary: “Yeah, man, okay!” The guy holds up his hands in surrender and Shouto shoots him another apologetic look. “I really didn't know you guys were married! I didn't see a ring!”

“Oh,” Katsuki says. He frowns hard for a minute and then grabs Shouto by the arm to whisk him away to his table with Izuku and Kirishima to guard him or sniff him or whatever weird territorial thing he wants to do.

→ College Roommates|BakuTodo by S_Kuro.

Summary: Todoroki is the son of the famous Todoroki Enji, also known as Endeavor, his father is a famous business man that wants Todoroki to take over his business, but Todoroki wants to become a photographer. He goes against his father's wishes and goes to an art university miles away from home. There he meets a certain explosive blonde, who turns out to be his roommate. what sorts of ridiculous shenanigans will they find themselves in and what relationships will they end up in.

a BakuTodo fanfic

This is my first fanfic with these two, so don't judge me and I hope you like it.

→ Locker Room by darkqueen_25.

Summary: There are worse things to walk in on in a locker room, Inasa thinks, than your two new friends fucking against the shower walls.

There's probably nothing better than being asked to join in, though.

#bnha #mha #bakutodo #todobaku #todoroki shouto #bakugou katsuki #shouto todoroki #katsuki bakugou #bakugou x todoroki #top!bakugou #bottom!todoroki #bakutodobaku #fanfic #fic recommendations #fic list

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magicofthepen · 3 years

Text

Gallifrey Relisten: Lies

In the chaos of.....all of November....totally forgot I meant to relisten to this episode sooner! Which is odd because Series 2 is definitely one of the high points of Gallifrey for me (apparently listening to everything slowly collapse into the civil war is super engaging and interesting? idk Series 2 just does a lot of solid character work and storytelling and good narrative progression to the “ahhh everything is very bad” finale...and I’m not sure how to feel about this, given *gestures at the world these days*). But anyways, now for some thoughts on the series opener:

Fun fact: From the TV show alone, Romana I was my favorite. (This had something to do with her having more character growth in season 16 than season 17, since her early days on the TARDIS involve the “wait my academic success does not necessarily translate to the real world” realization and learning about worlds and people different from her own and growing from High-Achieving Student to Adventurer in her own right. Also I loved the grudgingly-working-together to actual-friends arc with her and the Doctor. I was a bit less interested in her character when she was just going around being a capable adventurer, although I did become invested in Romana II in her last episodes, as she quietly grapples with the issue of what she wants to do next in life and eventually chooses to go off on her own. Also to be fair, I appreciate the fun times of Season 17 a lot more now because Romana being happy and having a good time traveling around the universe? What a concept.)

All this to say: me on my first listen of Gallifrey was very excited about Romana I being in this episode. And even though it’s not quite as much of a !!!!! thing for me these days (the Gallifrey audios have long since solidified Romana II as my favorite), I do love the (sort of) multi-Romana interaction that happens in this one.

Brax essentially going “yeah the education system is supposed to be shitty and take an emotional toll on you” sir.

“I am not xenophobic” — Oh yeah, this scene is Narvin at his most unlikeable. “I’m not being bigoted, I’m just trying to protect Gallifrey, the fact that I assume that people who aren’t from here inherently can’t be trusted, and also go on about how they’re too loud and disruptive and don’t belong is definitely not a bigoted worldview nope.” Yikes. Very glad he’s going to see the error of his ways.

The Narvin and Darkel rant session does actually do a good job at explaining what’s been happening and establishing the primary conflict of the series while not feeling like it exists solely to be an info dump to catch up the listener. Like, it’s definitely a setup scene, but it is an interesting setup scene.

“But she is my President, and it’s my job to ensure that she gets what she wants and needs, efficiently and without question. Well, too many questions anyway.” Okay this moment and Darkel and Wynter’s conversation later about Narvin’s weakness (“Loyalty. An unswerving loyalty to his office and his precious CIA. And above all, loyalty to his president.” “He despises President Romana!” “Oh yes, of course. But it’s the position, not the person, he places that trust in.”) are really setting up some key Narvin Character Theses that we’re going to see play out this series (and also that the narrative is going to push in really interesting ways later on..... “position not the person”.....just you wait....)

Darkel and Narvin being indignant that Romana changed the law is just....hilarious in a kind of horrifying way? Oh no, the President worked with the legislative body to actually get a law passed. The horror.

“She has a temper. And a very long memory.” This is definitely about the CIA trying to overthrow her in Neverland but uhhh also it’s about Etra Prime and the Powers That Be on Gallifrey never making a serious effort to save her (at least from her perspective).

Yeah Darkel as antagonist is a bit abrupt (not that I particularly mind, she’s a good enough “love to hate” character that her not being set up as an antagonist from Series 1 doesn’t really bother me). But yeah, not sure what was going on behind the scenes, but it doesn’t seem like in Series 1 the plan was for her to be the primary Series 2-3 antagonist.

Darkel to Narvin: “You will let me know when you’ve decided.” Ooh yeah, this moment is quite a good setup of Narvin’s arc throughout this series — he has to decide where his loyalties truly lie.

Wynter is really interesting as far as character dynamics go, because he breaks the whole “Romana and Leela are the youngest people in the room” vibe — and it is just really interesting to see Romana interacting with this quite young Time Lord and specifically compare/contrasting it to how she interacts with young Time Lords in the later series when she’s older and a bit more emotionally mature and has more of the “mentor figure” vibes. (There isn’t really a conclusion to this thought, it’s more of a “huh, I’m thinking about this now” thing.)

“It’s been seven weeks, Andred. It’s hardly a lifetime.” Romana: please you have not been in a cell for that long, calm down.

“I thought you two were friends.” “A president of the High Council of Gallifrey cannot allow herself the luxury of friends.” Ahhhh, where it begins!! I’m extremely weak for the arc of Romana opening herself up to friendship and love, what of it.

Honestly, Andred’s politics have always been very confusing to me? And it probably doesn’t help that the show is all “he’s fully Andred now” but also “he lived as Torvald a long time and that’s still influencing him.” Like both of those things can be true, but it’s a bit unclear what Andred’s true priorities and motivations really are right then — and honestly, it just comes off like his primarily desire is to be useful to someone, and be granted some form of autonomy/power/respect in return (aka he doesn’t have any real clear principles that are motivating him). Also complaining about Romana opening Gallifrey up to aliens is such a bad look dude.

Romana to Andred: “I control your future. I control whether you have one.” Umm???? The foreshadowing?????

Andred, no. Andred, the free time pun was too much.

“I wish I had databanks. With a flick of a switch I could turn myself off, become unaware of all that has happened.” Leela ahhhhhhhhhh. (The desire to give Leela all the hugs and emotional support is very very high throughout these next couple seasons especially.....her mental health is in such a rough place ahhhh.)

Andred regenerated “nearly six months ago” and it’s been six and a half (or seven, depending on which character is speaking) weeks since A Blind Eye, which took place an unspecified amount of time after The Inquiry, which took place two weeks after Square One...(don’t mind me, just taking some notes on the timeline math...)

I believe a couple times in the Gallifrey audios, they reference the position of “Vice President,” which is very weird because that doesn’t seem to be a position that exists?? Chancellor is definitely seen as the #2 spot?? Idk what’s going on here.

“You are appreciated, highly regarded, and were I to lose you I would be...disappointed.” Romana, you started strong and then you got a bit emotionally repressed there.

“Torvald was a fool, but he was my fool.” .....I am not saying anything.....I will not be commenting on the Narvin and Andred scene......I just.......you know. There are some fics you cannot unread.

Romana does really trust Brax here, doesn’t she. And she really doesn’t trust easily post-Etra Prime, so this is a big deal — making it all the rougher when she (in the short term) finds out he meddled with her memories and (in the long term) has to deal with him doing things like temporarily betraying her for the greater good of protecting her while not explaining at all what’s really going on.

Okay, yes the whole pearl-clutching about Romana changing the laws is kinda silly and horrifying in a “how dysfunctional is your society if passing one (1) law is drastic change??” way, but also the flip side of this, aka “we thought these things were entrenched as norms in our society and would not change and then here comes along one president who’s trying to undo all of these things and threaten the whole system”.....y’all that hits differently now in the month November in the year 2020. In the Gallifrey audios the context is different — they are for sure overreacting to Romana’s very mild idea of “perhaps....we could change some things about society” but the way they talk about her political changes in the episode — feels a bit too close to home!

Romana’s voice right when she sees Leela....she missed her.....

Pandora being the “first female president” is a very weird and very unnecessary bit of misogyny? Ah yes, we must specify that this ancient president of Gallifrey who was wildly power-hungry and cruel and went too far and almost ruined everything Gallifrey had built was a woman?? Why was that bit of dialogue needed?? Tbh early Gallifrey does have a problem in general with characters played by women tending to be power-hungry....which is partly down to the fact that they have so so few women in the cast in general, it’s Romana, Leela, and Villains, mostly. (The lack of women in the supporting cast in early Gallifrey is going to be an ongoing complaint.)

“You should not be afraid of your feelings, K9.” / “Yes, thank you, if we can move on from the emotional support group session.” Pffffff

I do choose to ignore the implication that Romana returned to Gallifrey and became President because of the subconscious influence of Pandora/the Imperiatrix Imprimatur nudging her towards power. Tbh it’s simply not interesting to me to have such a pivotal character choice reduced to genetic/subconscious manipulation. Yes, Romana ended her TV run insisting she didn’t want to go back to Gallifrey (and even staying in another universe to avoid it), and yes, it creates this initial emotional dissonance suddenly jumping to stories where she’s President of Gallifrey. But I already did the headcanon work before I jumped into Big Finish to make it work for me, I didn’t need this weirdness.

Elaborating on this a bit more: There is something interesting to me about a person who left home and slowly ended up rejecting the narrow worldview she grew up with, cutting herself free from the place she was born — and then eventually choosing to return because she genuinely wanted to make that messed-up world better and believed she could. And it also creates a really interesting contrast with the Doctor: two Time Lords who came to realize that Gallifrey was pretty terrible actually, and one of them kept running away from it and rejecting Time Lord society, and the other came back and said maybe I can change things. Because both are understandable and complicated reactions to have to a messed-up home world, and there are different ways of trying to do good. And regardless of how her choices turned out, I always liked the idea that it was Romana’s own choice that brought her to Gallifrey again, and I don’t think Pandora needed to be shoehorned in to explain her actions.

Okay, I want to hear the follow up where Leela insists Romana tell the whole Key to Time story after hearing all of these random out of context bits and pieces.

Why does Brax admit to breaking the Laws of Time? The fact that he’s in contact with his past/future selves isn’t actually relevant to what he needs to tell Narvin? He literally could have just said that he hypnotized Romana, without mentioning that it was his future self who did it? (Also, it’s implied in this one that he pushes for Romana to use the mind wipe on Narvin because he wants the memory of that reveal erased, but somehow that’s the one thing that Narvin keeps because he uses that information against Brax later? Aka: how did Narvin remember that Brax told him this?)

And final thought: general internal monologue during this episode is just: Pandora arc Pandora arc Pandora arc here we go!! Because the Lies through Warfare run is really one of the more interesting bits of Gallifrey for me (Imperiatrix specifically ranks very high on my favorite episodes list), and I’m excited to be re-listening to/thinking about/hearing other people talk about these episodes!

Next Episode Reaction: Spirit

Previous Episode Reaction: A Blind Eye

#gallifrey audios #romana #leela #narvin #irving braxiatel #going to listen to the pod of rassilon episode on a long car ride tomorrow (well. today at this point) so very excited for that!#ramblings #emily listens to big finish #the relisten of rassilon

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overheardatthecontinental · 3 years

Text

Talk Chapter 4

AO3

In which Helen fights for control from her kidnappers and John is met with deadends.

(The action will pick up in the next chapter

Waking up in a cell is a little easier the second time around Helen discovers.

She wakes up, freezing again, on the floor. Not that there was any other place to be. The cell was still empty.

The guards were different when she woke up but she barely paid them any attention. Instead, she managed to crawl to the little stall in the corner of her cell. Indeed, she was grateful to find a bathroom. The contents of her stomach were emptied into the small toilet and she wondered, idly, if it was the sedative that made her feel so.

She wished there was a window, or any other sort of indication of what time it was. What day it was.

Was it still Saturday? She wasn’t sure.

She wondered if it was Sunday and what would happen tomorrow morning when clients started arriving at her office to find it locked and empty?

Priorities, she tells herself.

No, she wasn’t worried about a few people missing their appointments. Not when her hands were still bound together and her throat burned from the acid of her vomit.

They’d live.

And so would she.

John was coming, she knows. It may take him some time to find her. Helen was certain she was hidden somewhere that wouldn’t be easy for him to find. But she was also positive that John wouldn’t stop until she was safe.

That brought her some comfort.

But even with that knowledge, she wasn’t going to stop trying to get herself out of the mess.

She tries to engage the new guards in conversation, but they kept their mouths shut. Probably warned by DeLuca, she thinks.

Still, one of them disappears upstairs and returns with a tv dinner that he slides through the bars to her, along with a bottle of water. They undo the bindings at her wrists but refuse to give her silverware. While she can only imagine what other uses John would find for a spoon or a fork, she wouldn’t know what the fuck to do with a utensil in a fight.

At least DeLuca isn’t planning on starving her. That was a plus. Especially since John would kill him either way.

She closes her eyes.

John was probably a wreck. He didn’t do well with things being out of his control and his emotional regulation skills were lacking.

This, she thinks, is really going to stunt the progress she’s made with him. Months of building up to him addressing his issues with self-esteem and his own feelings of self-hatred, only to have her kidnapped by his enemies.

It would take months more to work through the blame he was going to feel and probably years before he could even start to forgive himself.

The guards change not long after she wakes up. The new guards are told: “She’s been fed. Mostly quiet. DeLuca says not to interact with her.”

They listen. They ignore her attempts at small talk and don’t even look at her. The only moment of interaction comes when they hand her another meal a few hours later with a gruff, “Here.”

She falls asleep again after she eats. It’s almost too cold to sleep but she manages, blaming the exhaustion on the sedatives.

When she wakes up again, the guards have changed.

Nick, the man who had sedated her is back, along with someone new. The kid is younger than Nick. She’d place him in his early twenties at best. His face was still a little soft around the edges and the scarring from acne hadn’t found its way to clearing up just yet.

“Morning, boys.” She says, “Or is it night?”

“It’s two pm.”

“Hey!” Nick says, “DeLuca said not to talk to her.”

“What harm will talking do?” The new kid asks, looking over at Helen with a naïve sort of interest.

Nick shrugs, “Guess she’s some sort of psychiatrist.”

Wrong, Helen thinks, but doesn’t comment.

“She got inside DeLuca’s head yesterday. Kinda eerie, to be honest. Started spouting all this stuff about his parents and I guess it was true, because DeLuca was pissed. Bastard still hasn’t come back.”

Helen resists the urge to smirk at that.

“Why didn’t he just kill her? What’s she in for?”

Helen perks up a bit. She knew, obviously, that she was here as leverage or bait or something altogether nefarious to entrap John. But the more she could figure out about the details, the better off she would be.

“You ever hear of John Wick?” Nick asks, shuffling the deck of cards.

“Heard of him?” The poor kid almost sounds excited, “The man’s a fucking legend! I heard he killed three guys who started shit-talking him in the bar with a fucking pencil!”

Helen hadn’t heard that little tidbit, but she wasn’t surprised. John’s versatility was arguably his greatest strength. It made sense that it converted to weapons.

Nick hums, “Yep. And that’s his girl.” He throws a thumb in her direction.

The kid’s head flies over, staring at Helen in shock. She gives him a finger wave and the kid looks back to Nick, “That’s the boogeyman’s girl?”

Nick nods and starts to toss out the cards, “DeLuca’s been talking about getting a jump on the Camorra ever since he took over the Syndicate. Can’t help but wonder if this is his ploy.”

John had referenced the Camorra before, a number of times, but she couldn’t recall him ever mentioning the Syndicate. Nevertheless, she now had a name to put to the organization and its face that held her captive.

“But, it’s the boogeyman! You don’t mess with the boogeyman!”

“Sound advice,” Helen pipes in, “I suggest you relay the message to DeLuca before he gets you all killed.”

The kid pales and Nick shakes his head, “Don’t listen to her, Frankie.”

But Frankie was already listening. She just needed one in. “He’s probably right. I wouldn’t want to spend your last hours on this Earth in fear. Play your game.” Helen tries her best to give her a sweet smile. “Have fun with your time.”

“Hours?” he echoes.

“I mean, maybe you’ll get lucky. You might have a few days before John finds this place and razes it to the ground.”

“Disengage, Frankie.” Nick warns but even he looks uneasy.

John had mentioned his reputation a few times, but this was the first time that Helen had ever seen it in action. She knew John was not one for dramatizing but still, it was a little strange to see grown men becoming uneasy at the very mention of his name.

Frankie lowers his voice but she can still hear him echoing in the empty basement. “Look, man, you know I’m all in for the cause but I don’t know if I want to be involved in this.” He shoots Helen a glance, “I don’t want the Boogeyman coming after me.”

She almost felt sorry for the kid. Rationally, she could probably justify his actions. Write it off as a kid looking for a place to fit in, a world to survive in. He was mousy and largely unintimidating. The idea of mafiaso protection probably appealed to him, gave him space to live. But, she acknowledges, it’s harder to feel bad for someone who is keeping you locked in a cage.

“It’s a little late for that, Frankie. You and Nick are already involved.”

Nick shifts uncomfortably at the use of his name. Good, she thinks. She wants him to be anxious. She wants them both to afraid of what was to come.

Poor Frankie hadn’t even been here five minutes, she thinks, and he was already ready to bolt. She had a foot in the door, now she just had to hold her ground and push through.

“Look,” Helen offers him a small smile, “You seem like a good kid. Single mom?”

His eyes widen and he nods. “How did you know?”

An educated guess, but she doesn’t elaborate. “You did whatever you had to do to help her. How many siblings you got?”

“Don’t—” Nick tries but it’s too late.

“Two.”

“Still in school?”

Again, he nods.

“Good.” Helen says, “I hope they won’t have to drop out when you aren’t around. It’s hard for kids who drop out to catch back up. Sometimes you never do. Right, Nick?”

Nick tenses immediately.

She hums and closes her eyes, leaning her head back against the wall.

“Nick, man—”

“She’s just getting into your head. Let it go.”

Helen huffs a small laugh at that.

“I don’t know. How’d she know about my mom? And me dropping out? I didn’t say anything that—”

“It’s all just lucky guesswork. Calm down.”

If her eyes were open, she would have rolled them. “Guesswork, huh?” She glances up. It’s not much, she thinks, but it’s an opening, “I don’t suppose you’d be willing to make a little wager about that?”

“Not a chance.” Nick is quick to say but she can see the curiosity behind them. It’s reflected in Frankie who, with less experience and far less intelligence is quick to ask, “What kind of wager?”

Nick shoots him a glare but doesn’t cut her off.

“I’ll read you. Both of you. I’ll analyze your lives based on what I’ve already seen of you. And, if I’m wrong, on either of you, I’ll shut up. I won’t say anything for the rest of the night.”

“And if you’re right?” Nick asks.

“I get a phone call.”

“Not a chance.” Okay. She expected that. She could compromise.

“A text, then. I’ll keep it short. No more than a minute.”

“DeLuca would kill us.” Frankie says, shaking his head.

“DeLuca doesn’t have cameras here.” She gestures around, “And I wouldn’t be worried about DeLuca killing you when John’s out there looking for me.” She pauses, “I’ll sweeten the pot. Win or lose, I’ll ask John not to kill you.”

She’s met with silence as Frankie looks to Nick to take the lead.

Nick looks indecisive and she takes that into account. She watches the way he glances towards his phone. He’s considering it.

“You’re both part of this.” Helen leans forward, “DeLuca is arrogant enough to think he can get out of this without backlash. You’ve got to know that won’t be the case. John will hunt him down to the ends of the Earth, along with anyone else who played a part in this. Your only shot of making it through this alive is for me to interfere.”

She watches him swallow. Nick isn’t stupid. He’s probably the smartest of all the kidnappers she met but, Christ, he is lost.

John was like that, once.

Desperate for a way out, unable to find one.

“Will he listen to you?” Nick asks finally, “If you ask him to spare us, will he listen?”

She can’t make the promise. Truth be told, she’s never seen John truly angry at anyone other than himself. She doesn’t know how this is going to go.

“I am the only chance at stopping him.” She says finally. Not a promise or a guarantee. The honest truth, if ever there was one.

“Either way, win or lose?” Nick pushes.

“I give you my word.”

The moment lasts an eternity as she holds Nick’s gaze.

“I won’t give you a minute. You can’t touch the phone. You tell me the number, I type in the message. You get to send one word.”

“Three.”

He considers it, then he nods and she breathes easy.

“Start with Frankie.” He says and there comes that guard again. Keeping himself safe. Protecting his secrets.

She suspects but she isn’t entirely sure.

Frankie is an easier read, anyway. He wears his heart on his sleeve.

Nick’s reactions to what she says to Frankie will give her everything she needs.

Helen exhales and looks to the younger boy.

She takes in the clothes, the demeanor. The way he sits, the little bit of excitement in his eyes that proved just how naïve he was. How in over his head he was.

“We’ve established the single mom. You’re the oldest. Different dad’s all around. Your mom’s a dreamer. She kept hoping that each guy would be different. They’d care. They’d stay. But they never did.

“You get that from her,” Helen softens her voice, “that tendency to daydream. It keeps you going on the bad days, but it also keeps you stuck. What do consequences matter when everything will be okay in the end, right?

“But you were smart. You did shit in school, but you were quick to pick things up and acing tests made up for the fact you probably never did you homework. But your siblings do. You prioritized their work above yours, made sure they did well. Because it was too late for you, even then, wasn’t it?”

Frankie’s mouth opens but she keeps going.

“Three boys,” That much is a guess but the subtle intake of breath from Frankie tells her she’s right, “Three growing boys need food. And clothes. Mom was running herself to the ground to keep going. So, you stepped up. Because you’re the oldest, and because you love your mom. And, partly, because she and your brothers are all you have.”

Frankie looks like he’s going to pass out at any minute but it’s Nick she’s watching, out of the corner of her eye.

Nick’s leg is shaking, bouncing with nervous energy and he’s staring at his phone, as if it’s the only thing in the world giving him strength.

She’s willing to stake everything that whatever his lock screen shows is his reason to get up each and every morning.

Turning her attention back to Frankie, she continues, “So you wound up here. It’s local and Italian, so it could be worse in your mother’s eyes. It doesn’t stop her from worrying, though.

“But you have your uses. You’re not street smart like the rest of these guys here, but just clever enough that you see things they don’t. Finding patterns and solving puzzles. It makes up for the fact you’re shit in a fight and you probably can’t even shoot straight.”

Frankie’s face breaks into a huge grin, “Holy shit! That was dead on! How did you do that?” He leaves his chair and comes to sit on the ground outside her cell. “I didn’t know psychologists did that.”

Her face softens, “Most don’t. Technically, we’re supposed to avoid making assumptions but, after a while, you learn to pick up on little things.”

Nick narrows his eyes, “Still seems like guess work to me. The fact we’re both dropouts isn’t written on our faces. You guessed based on the fact we’re involved in Syndicate.”

“It gave me an indication of your socioeconomic status,” she admits, “But, in Frankie’s case, it was the oldest brother, single mother combination that made me go in that direction. I used to do quite a bit of family therapy. There are roles that often come up in enmeshed families,” she explains, looking back at Frankie, “things like enablers who allow everything to happen, or scapegoats, who get blamed for everything.”

Helen tries to watch Nick’s reaction to the scapegoat. And sure enough, he stares at his locked screen.

“What am I?” Frankie asks.

“The Hero.” His chest puffs up at the label, “You try to fix everything, even the things that can’t ever be put back together. Which is how I knew you dropped out to help your mom. It’s what you do.”

“And Nick?” He asks, gesturing back to where Nick sat at the table.

Curious, but tense. Disbelieving, but with a hint of worry.

He had the most to lose from this expenditure.

“Nick,” she says softly, “was the scapegoat. And that’s a difficult place to be because you can do everything right but it doesn’t matter. I imagine you got in trouble a lot as a kid, didn’t you, Nick? You didn’t follow the expectations lined out for you. In your parent’s eyes, you made the wrong choices. Had the wrong friends. Played with the wrong toys.”

“There are no wrong toys.” Frankie says, tilting his head in confusion.

“You’re right.” Helen replies, not looking away from Nick, who is now tapping his fingers on the table in an attempt to appease the nervous energy. “But there were in your parent’s eyes. So you tried to appease them, to do everything right. Just how they wanted but you had already made your bed and they never quite got over it.”

Helen has to close her eyes at the flash of pain she sees in Nick’s eyes.

And she’s careful with her phrasing because she won’t be the one to bring it into the open, even if she needs to communicate to him that she knows his deepest secret. The one he pretends doesn’t exist.

“I’ll admit, I am unsure of what happened. But they found out. Maybe you told them, or they saw something they shouldn’t have, but they found out.”

“Stop.”

“They found out, and you lost everything.”

Nick’s hand reaches for his phone and his fist tightens around it, like a lifeline.

“I don’t understand.” Frankie says, looking between them.

Helen ignores him. “You didn’t have a choice but to leave school. You had to support yourself. Take care of yourself. And you found this place. The Syndicate. A family in its own right and they took you in. But this time, you were more careful. You didn’t let it show.”

“Stop!” Nick shouts and Helen does. His face is red, his chest rising and falling.

Helen swallows but stares Nick down until he brings is eyes to meet hers. “There is nothing wrong with you, Nick.”

“You don’t know shit.”

“I don’t know the pain of what you’ve been through. Your experience is your own. But I know what it’s like to be afraid and to feel trapped. And I know that nothing is going to change until you learn to accept who you are.”

Nick closes his eyes and rubs them.

And Frankie, bless his stupid fucking heart, looks back to Nick in a kind of understanding. “Oh.” He says and he looks to Helen and then again to his comrade, “Dude, I know how this place can be, but if it helps, I don’t care one way or the other. My middle brother is gay.”

Nick winces at the word and looks past Frankie to Helen.

“What gave it away?” He asks, voice heavy with emotion.

“Nothing that anyone else will pick up on.” She eases his worries, “I’ve been a therapist for nearly fifteen years. I know what to look for.”

Nick looks to Frankie, “You can’t fucking t—”

“I won’t say anything.” Frankie is quick to jump in. “I see how the world treats Gio and he’s only in high school.”

“The world can be a cruel place. As humans, we tend to have a hard time distinguishing what is perceived as normal and what is perceived as right. But we all have a responsibility to challenge those beliefs and I am sorry that your parents couldn’t do that for you.”

“I wasn’t a bad kid.” Nick mutters.

“Of course, you weren’t.”

“I just wanted my parents to love me.”

“Some parents aren’t made to be parents. And the fact they couldn’t get over their narrow world view has nothing to do with you.”

“I can’t come out.”

“You don’t have to.” Helen tells him, “You can live the rest of your life pretending to be someone you’re not. Half the world does, anyway. But I can guarantee you that hiding who you are isn’t going to do anything to protect your kid.”

Nick’s eyes widen and he looks to Helen in shock.

“You have a kid? How did that even happen?” Frankie asks.

“Tequila.”

“We’ve all been there.” Helen mutters, lifting her water bottle in a silent salute. “The guys start asking too many questions about why you never date, never have a girlfriend. They start teasing at the truth and you go out and find somebody. Anybody. And things happen, because things always do. And the next thing you know, you’re trapped in another web of lies. It’s easier to play along than to find a way out and, eventually, that web of lies starts to feel like home. And right now, it’s fine. But webs will always begin to unravel. I’d suggest you do it on your own terms rather than watch your world implode.”

Nick shivers, “You really need to stop.”

“Sorry. It’s hard to shut off, sometimes.”

“I can see why DeLuca sedated you.” He mutters and grabs his phone, “A deal is a deal. What’s the number?”

Helen tries not to look to relieved as Nick brings up a new text message. She recites John’s number, forever thankful that she memorized it. Just in case.

He types it in and shakes his head, “I take it this is Wick’s direct line?”

She nods, “Yes.”

Nick exhales, “I’m really fucking glad our shift is almost done. What do you want to say?”

Three words, she muses. They had agreed on three words.

She didn’t know if he already knew where she was, or who had her. Helen didn’t want to waste her one shot giving John information he already had but, she liked to think if he knew where she was, he would already be here.

“DeLuca of Syndicate.” She decides and hopes against hope that it is enough.

….

Dead ends.

After more than a day of searching, John had only been met with dead ends and more questions.

Winston was right. The answer to who would want to destroy the Camorra was apparently everybody. Which meant the only other factor they had to go on was by means.

Who had the resources to stalk and evade John Wick?

Again, the answer was more substantial than he knew what to do with.

They all had money. Especially, the higher up the food chain they went.

While Winston had been able to clear the highest-ranking officials of the High Table, there were still hundreds of smaller echelons to eliminate.

It hadn’t been going well.

John had limited the search to the Camorra’s immediate allies and their top adversaries, local and foreign. Winston was running it now but John could tell he wasn’t hopeful.

It had never occurred to John just how far the Underworld went. Aside from the major players, there were crime families and gangs that all held some sort of stake in his world. And New York was the fucking capital of it all. Anyone and everyone had ties to the city.

The Technician was still there, in his room. He had used the twin bed to catch a few hours of sleep while they waited for the phone to be activated and John had kept vigil. He watched the phone, waiting for any sort of call or message that wasn’t going to come. He watched the computer, hoping that something would pop up.

“I’m sorry. There’s nothing, Mister Wick. If this guy had a modicum of common sense, he would have ditched her original phone and just taken the SIM card. He’ll probably keep the phone off until he intends to use it. Might even be removing the card and only using that when he needs it. Until it’s turned on, we can’t do anything.”

It had taken every ounce of self-control John had not to smash the Technician’s computer. To break the table the way he had done the chair.

He wanted to break something. Needed to see, and hear, and feel something smash apart. Something else had to break before he did.

Thirty-six hours.

It had been thirty-six hours since he had gotten the phone call and he was still no closer to finding Helen.

His stomach churned.

He’d never had trouble eating before or after a mission before. Nothing rattled him. Not blood, or entrails, or the crack of breaking bones. He could see brain matter spattered along a floor and go for a cheeseburger right after.

But this uncertainty, the not knowing… it was killing him.

Had she eaten?

There was a frost over the weekend. Was she someplace warm?

Was she scared?

Did she know he was coming?

He hears the door open and jumps to his feet, heading to the main room. The Technician was hunched over the laptop, needlessly running security cameras and traffic footage near Helen’s home.

John feared it wouldn’t be enough.

A table full of weapons brought by the Sommelier is prepped near the door that Winston is walking through.

He has a bag ready in case Winston is unable to find anything. In case he has to go after the D’Antonio’s.

Winston shakes his head at John, almost in defeat.

“We need to reframe our parameters.” The Manager says, “It’s still too broad.”

John leans against the table. He hadn’t been expecting much but anything would be better than the constant attempts to narrow their search.

What was he missing? What was he leaving out?

What if he went too narrow and ended up missing Helen?

“Have you slept, Jonathan?”

It’s the third time they’ve had this conversation.

He’s tried. But he can’t. Every time he closes his eyes, he can see Helen, bound and passed out on the cold floor.

He can’t remember how many coffee’s he had but it’s keeping him going.

“I suppose I should be grateful you’ve showered.” Winston says, obviously still disapproving. “Still, you won’t be any good to her if you’re strung out on caffeine.”

“I’ve tried, Winston. I just…” He trails off.

This is your fault. You should have protected her better. You should never have showed weakness. Should never have gone to her house. To her office. Should never have brought your fucked-up life into her safe one.

He runs a hand through his hair.

The sitting, the waiting, the hoping is doing absolutely nothing.

He has to fix this.

“I can’t wait any longer, Winston.” John shakes his head, “I’m going after Lorenzo.”

Winston responds in kind, “Don’t be stupid, Jonathan.”

“I can’t sit here doing nothing. If I kill the D’Antonio’s, this is over. She’ll be released.”

“You’re banking on an unknown enemy being honest.”

It was true, but what else was there to go on?

“He has no reason to keep her once they’re dead.”

“That you know of. This could just be the beginning of his plan.” Winston keeps arguing.

“It’s all ifs right now!” John can feel the anger brimming within him, “But it’s all I have! And Helen… she’s tough but she has her limits.”

Winston frowns, “Well, perhaps you should have thought of that before you became involved with her.”

“You think I don’t know that! I know that this is my fault but I will get her out of this. I gave you time, I gave the Technician a chance.”

“My time isn’t up.”

“You have a handful of hours and no fucking leads.”

“Um, Mister Wick…” The Technician pipes up, turning around in his seat.

“Then help me narrow down what I should be looking for. You know I can’t just let you go off to kill a member of the High Table.”

“You won’t be able to stop me.”

“Mister Wick!” The Technician shouts and both John and Winston turn to look at him, “You, um, sorry. But you just got a text from an unknown number.”

He holds up the phone and John takes it.

A New York number, that he doesn’t recognize, but opens all the same. The message is short, deliberate.

The miracle he’s been praying for.

DeLuca of Syndicate.

#john wick #helen wick #john wick talk #john x helen wick #helen x john wick #otp: your best friend #bamf!Helen Wick #bamf helen wick #slight dumbass john wick #john wick fanfiction #john wick fanfic

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chickensarentcheap · 4 years

Text

Best Part of Me -Chapter 83

Warnings: none

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

The call comes shortly before four in the morning; the shrill ring and the incessant vibration of the phone against the nightstand startling him awake. Tyler groans at the intrusion; annoyed by the abrupt end to what had been an uncharacteristically peaceful sleep. Insomnia had settled in their first night in Dhaka; rattled by the ongoing threats against his family and the turn to the very place where he’d nearly lost his life. Seven years feels like seventy some days; given reprieve when the memories don’t creep up for weeks, sometimes even months on end. Yet there’s times where it feels as if it were seven days ago; vivid recollections of the taste of his own sweat and blood, the smell of gunpowder and spilt gasoline, the cries of the wounded and dying. It’s been years since he’s had what he considers a decent sleep; five to seven hours without being disturbed by pain or bad dreams or being woken by a crying baby or little ones climbing into bed alongside him.

While it only been three hours since he and Esme had returned upstairs the short period of rest that had preceded their love making had been the deepest and most restful sleep in recent memory. The day’s roller coaster of emotions finally caught up to him; initially channelled into languid and gentle -and ultimately desperate- sex. The realization that it may very well be the last time they would physically enjoy each other fuelling the need; hands and mouths working together to fully worship and pleasure one another before giving in to the act itself. Moving slowly inside of her at first; long, soft kisses being exchanged as her hands roamed his shoulders and back and travelled down his arms. Those huge, dark eyes and her legs wrapping around his waist and heels digging into the small of his back signalling that she needed more from him. WANTED more. And he’d obliged; repeatedly driving into her with near brutal force. Thrusts that pushed her further up the bed and had her crying out in a mixture of pleasure and discomfort; teeth sinking into his shoulder and nails breaking the skin as they raked down his back and over his ribs. Enjoying the way his name sounded coming from her mouth; whether it be the whispers and whimpers or the begging and pleaded and eventually the cry of her released. It’s always been her favorite thing to hear, even outside of sex. The way it sounds when she’s giggling while he teases her or when it’s sleepy and slightly disoriented after he’s woken her up after falling asleep on the couch.

He can remember what it had felt like when she’d said it for the first time; in that cramped and dirty hotel room in the city centre. Since their initial first meeting at that old shack in the outback, she’d been calling him by his last name; a habit picked up in both the military and her time on the job. First names are usually abode; too personal considering the unpredictable circumstances and the very short time you’re actually in someone’s life. But in that moment...in the heat of an intense argument between two severely obstinate people...with his hand around her neck and those dark eyes -stoic and unnerved- staring up at him, everything changed.

“Admit it,” she’d snarled. “For the right price, you’d leave me AND the kid behind. Admit it, Tyler.”

It was the first time she’d said it; his first name. And it had caused something inside of him to snap; that stubbornness and assertiveness and those eyes his complete undoing. It had been years since a woman had made him feel that level of want and need, and despite the rational side of his brain screaming at him to walk away, he’d given in. His hand still on her throat as he kissed her with a complete loss of control he’d never exhibited with anyone else. Spurred on when she’d so eagerly responded; unable to stop things from progressing even further. Taking her right there up against the wall, pounding into her with punishing thrusts that were fuelled by years of anger, guilt, and regret. And that little body had taken everything he’d unleashed on it; hands tightly gripping his hair and her legs wound around his waist. Encouraged by the way she begged and pleaded for ‘more and ‘harder’ and the way his first name suddenly couldn’t stop tumbling from her lips.

After that, she never called by his last name ever again. And he’d have to stop himself from smiling every time she said his first. It sounded THAT good.

Propping himself up on his elbow, he reaches over his wife’s still, sleeping form and snags the phone before it can go to voicemail. There’s that brief moment of panic of late night calls while on a job; someone getting a hold of him to say that something to one -or all- of the kids. The tightness that forms in your chest and the way your heart hammers wildly. But the relief is instantaneous at the sight of Yaz’ name on the screen. Although it brings a whole host of other emotions with it.

“Yeah?” His greeting is simple. Voice laced with the lingering remnants of sleep.

“Be ready to go in three hours.”

“That was fast.”

“Guy I sent to try and get eyes in Asif’s place had other ideas; decided to go a different route. Grabbed one of the street thugs and beat the shit out of him and threatened to blow his knee caps and his dick off if he didn’t tell him where Neysa and Aarev are.”

“And he rolled over on his buddies?”

“Guess he really wanted to keep the family jewels. You were right; it IS a storage facility. One that hasn’t been in business for a while. About ten minutes outside of the city centre, going west. Sent my guy there to check it out; three separate buildings. They’re being held somewhere in the centre one. Sorry I couldn’t narrow it down any further.”

“I’ll work with whatever you give me. How many hostiles on site?”

“My guy counted six. I was able to get some surveillance set up; I’ve only seen ten at the most. Not too bad, right? If you can take out a whole apartment of assholes…”

“I’m not the man I was back then.”

“It was only seven years ago. Not seventy.”

“Tell that to my body.”

“You gonna be alright?” Yaz asks. “Think your old bones can handle this?”

“It’s not my bones I’m worried about.”

“If you can’t mentally do this. I’m not going to hold it against you. If you think whatever is left of your sanity won’t hold up...”

“I’ll be fine. In and out, yeah? Sounds like a pretty straight forward extraction. Not too many hostiles to deal with, a pretty open space, we’re away from the market area. What could possibly go wrong?”

“You know better than to ask something like that. It was a good call on Esme’s part; going north. Not a single damn roadblock that way. They’re expecting trouble to come over the Buriganga. That’s why they’ve shut the bridges down. I’ll drop you guys off just north of Dhaka; there’ll be two SUVs waiting.”

“How far back into town?”

“Twenty minutes. I'll be waiting at the extraction point. By the time anyone realizes what went down at the storage place AND get there, you’ll already be on your way back. We’re going to cause a big old thing on the Sultana Kamal Bridge.”

Tyler grins. “Big old thing, huh? I’d expect nothing less from you, Yaz.”

“Got a couple guys coming to pick the three of you up. Seven. You good to go?”

“I will be.”

“I’d expect nothing less from YOU. See you soon.”

“Yep,” he confirms, and then disconnects the call and returns the phone to the nightstand and rolls over onto his back. He groans at the discomfort in his shoulder and across the small of his back, then rakes his hands through his hair and runs them down his weary face.

He doesn’t move for several minutes; a forearm draped over his eyes. Finding himself oddly calm; long ago relegating himself to both the seriousness of the mission and his chances of getting out of it alive. The latter has improved with news of location and the number of hostels; with Koen and Rata and Anil’s two men, there will be more than enough bodies to handle everyone on site. A large indoor space will be much easier to navigate, and provides more places to grab cover if needed. He much prefers working in that kind of environment; having more room to move and not feeling as he’s being confined and suffocated. While everyone assumes the apartment seven years ago had been easy, it had in fact been one of the harder take down’s he’s ever done. There’d been a lot of people in that little space, and he’d had to work quick and with whatever items were at his disposal once he was unarmed.

Tyler moves back onto his side; sliding closer to his wife’s sleeping form and wrapping an arm around her, hand settling on the small -but very visible- baby bump. The fear is there; that this is the last moment of this kind he’ll get to spend with her. That worry that he’ll never again experience that soft, supple skin pressed against his own or breathe in that familiar scent. That he won’t get to see her grow bigger with child. HIS child. The way her body changes and she becomes even more beautiful and desirable; the extra weight and curves and the way her face fills out and seems to glow. She’s never seen herself the way he does, especially while pregnant. And she could never understand how incredible she actually is; selflessly giving her body in order to nurture and protect a life that he had a hand in creation. He never thought it was possible to love someone more with each passing day. That devotion that grows impossibly stronger when she watches her as a mother.

Esme stirs. Giving a long, content sigh and then pressing herself back against him; hand slipping down to briefly rest on top of his. Her fingers grazing along his own and then over his wrist and across his forearm. Her touch is soft and deeply intimate, and the quietness and the innocence surrounding it profoundly affects him; tears pricking his eyes and his throat and chest tightening with emotion. When her hand once more settles on top of his, he pushes his fingers through hers and holds as tightly as she can stand. It’s desperate; all of his fear and his worry communicated through something so simple. And for several minutes neither move nor speak his eyes closed and the top of his nose pressed against the back of her neck.

“How long?” she asks.

“Three hours.”

“That was fast.”

“It was,” he sighs. “Way too fast.”

He’d thought he had more time. That it would take Yaz at least half a day to mobilize his teams; to get eyes into Asif’s place and scouts sent north. And he’d planned on spending every remaining waking moment with her; doing whatever it took to make sure she knew exactly how much he loves and worships hers. Words have never come easy to him; often lost on what to say past those three simple -yet profound- words. The last thing he wanted -of the worst case scenario came into play- was her being left with doubts surrounding how he felt about her. Actions are easier for him; those small, thoughtfully little gestures that always bring a smile to her face. And he’d thought he’d get that chance; an opportunity to show her just how -and what- he feels. Three hours will feel like three minutes. With a deadline like that, he’s suddenly at a loss; not knowing if there’s any words or actions that could ever truly communicate how much he DOES love her. How thankful he is for the second chance he’d been given seven years ago. And how he always thought they’d have more time together than that.

“How much do you have to do to get ready?” she asks.

“Everything’s ready to go. There’s nothing I need to do.”

“So we can just lie here like this? For a little while?”

“For the next three hours if you want.” He raises his head from his pillow and presses a kiss to her temple, then her ear and her cheek and finally the corner of her mouth.

Releasing the hold on his hand, she rolls over onto her side to face him and slides even closer to him, settling her cheek on his pillow. The tips of their noses touching and their mouths mere inches apart, eyes locked. He tries not to notice the tears that sparkles in hers; the way she chews on her bottom lip as she struggles to control her own tsunami of emotions. He manages a small smile and presses his lips to her forehead, allowing them to linger for several seconds before pulling back to look at her. Eyes slowly scanning her face as calloused fingertips trace the burrows in her brow and move across the tops of her cheeks and down the bridge of her nose; travelling along the outer edges of her hair and across her lips.

“Don’t go,” Esme whispers. “Please don’t go.”

“I have to.”

“Let someone else do it. You don’t have to do this. It doesn’t have to be you.”

“It does. You know it does.”

“I thought I was prepared for this; that I was ready to see you walk away. But I’m not. I’m nowhere near ready. Please don’t go, Tyler.”

“It’s going to be okay,” he promises, and kisses the bridge of her nose before gathering her into his arms; pulling her flush against him with one hand on the small of her back and the other at the nape of her neck. “It’s alright,” he whispers, and places a series of feathery pecks across her shoulder. “I’m right here. I got you.”

The tears come now; loud, heartbreaking and gut wrenching sobs that shake her entire body and he feels to his very soul. All of those emotions pouring out of her; feeling the hot, bitter drops against his skin and the way her hands desperately clutch at his upper arms and the back of his neck. Even when things had been their darkest and their hardest, she’d never control to that extent. There’s nothing left to say; no possible words that could bring her comfort. Instead he lets her cry. His eyes closed and his lips pressed against the side of her neck; a palm sliding up and down her back in an attempt to soothe her. There’s little more he can do; no promises he can make or words that will lessen the severity of what lies ahead. No snide or humorous comment that will bring a smile to her face. It’s way beyond anything either of them have ever experienced; a fear and uncertainty that no other job has ever brought with it.

Eventually the sobbing subsides; transitioning into light whimpers and then a silence that’s occasionally interrupted by soft sniffles.

“You alright now?” Tyler asks when she pulls away. The hand that was in her hair now moving to her face; fingers clearing the remaining tears off her cheeks and the sides of her nose. He hates seeing her cry no matter what the circumstance. Especially when he’s the reason behind it.

“Not really,” Esme admits. “But I will be. When this is over and you’re back here. Safe and sound.”

“Hopefully it won’t be an all day thing. Sooner I’m out of there, the better. Last thing I want is to get trapped in the city. Didn’t go so well the first time.”

“This time you’re not doing it all alone. Or least you’ll have people watching your back. I could only do so much, and Ovi was just a kid. You pretty much had to carry the entire thing.”

“I think you totally underestimate how much you actually did.”

“I know I slowed you down. A lot. I know that you’d just listened to Nik…”

He pecks her lips. “We’re not going to talk about that. That’s the last thing I want to talk about.”

What DO you want to talk about?”

“I don’t know. You have any more dreams?”

She nods. “A good one this time. A very good time.”

“About what?”

“About when we got married. How nice you cleaned up; suit, tie, the beard all trimmed.”

“I was going to cut my hair too. But I figured you’d be pissed off enough to turn around and walk out.”

“I so would have left you at the altar if you’d done that,” she teases. “That was the one thing I asked you not to do; cut your hair.”

“I will never understand your obsession with it.”

“It’s just how I know you. It’s how it looked when we met. I guess it’s just what I’m used to. I’m sure one day I won’t mind if you do something different. But I swear to God, if you ever ask me shave it off again….”

“I know it broke your heart the first time. I won’t do that to you again. Maybe I’ll keep the hair and shave the beard off.”

“Don’t you dare,” she warns, and presses a kiss to his lips. “Do you remember the morning after? The hotel in Byron Bay?”

“I vividly remember that morning. And the night before.”

“I don’t mean THAT. Although, THAT was pretty incredible. I remember thinking afterwards that it felt different. In a good way. An amazing way. Because now it just wasn’t my boyfriend or my fiance or whatever making love to me. It was my husband. I don’t know; thinking about it that way made it seem different. Is that weird?”

“No. It’s not weird. I remember watching you sleep and thinking ‘that’s my wife’.”

“You did?”

“Seemed surreal; my fake wife now being my real one. Especially after I said I’d never get married again.”

“After Mark, I told myself I’d only go for girls for the rest of my life.”

“Yeah, it’s easy to see why he ruined all men for you.”

“I guess it just took a certain man to change my mind.”

“Yeah, one who could put up with all your shit.”

“I didn’t come with THAT much shit. You came with enough baggage for both of us. And I still didn’t run away. Maybe I’m the glutton for punishment.”

“Maybe,” he grins, and kisses her.

“But do you remember that morning? We had breakfast out on the balcony. And it was so nice out; it wasn’t too hot and the sky looked amazing and the way the sun shone on the water…” she sighs. “...it was like I woke up that morning and everything seemed even more beautiful than before.”

“I remember you had your hair down; the sun was making all the red in it sparkle. And you had that on this pink shirt that was off the shoulder and tied at the middle of your back. You were already showing pretty good with Millie; I remember thinking there was no way you could possibly get any more beautiful. And I remember wondering what the hell I’d ever done to deserve my life; a new wife, a baby girl on the way. You were really talkative and giggly that morning.”

“I was a newlywed. It was my honeymoon. And you’re the bringer of multiple orgasms. We should go back there; stay at the same hotel. A little getaway.”

“We can do whatever you want, baby.”

“What I’m going to say next is probably going to sound sappy. Promise you won’t laugh?”

“Why would I laugh?”

“It’s really sappy. Like really, really, REALLY sappy.”

“Try me.”

“I remember watching you and seeing the ring on your fingers and thinking how good it looked on you. And I was the one who put it there. I remember thinking ‘I have a husband now’ and it felt really good to think it. And it felt even better that it was you I was thinking it about. Is that weird? That I thought that?”

“No, baby. It’s not weird. It’s not weird at all.”

“And I know you don’t think it sometimes, but you’ve been an amazing husband,” her voice quivers with emotion and tears once more sparkle in her eyes. “I know things haven’t always been easy; that I haven’t been the easiest person to be with. That I’m tough to love sometimes. But you’ve been the one person I can count on; who makes me feel safe and protected. And I guess I just needed you to hear that. That there hasn’t been a time I didn’t love you. Even when things were shit, I loved you. Even when we didn’t know if we were going to make it or not.”

“But we did. We DID make it.”

“Seven years is not enough. And I’m scared that if you leave…”

“Everything’s going to be okay. In and out, right?”

“Nothing’s ever that simple.”

“Maybe this time it will be.” He brushes her hair off her forehead. “Maybe this will be the one time things don’t go to shit.”

“Maybe. But I wanted you to hear all that. About how amazing you’ve been. About how much I love you. I didn’t want you to walk out here not knowing all that.”

“I’ve always known. I’ve never doubted it. Have you? Ever doubted it?”

“How you feel about me?”

Tyler nods.

“No. You’ve always made sure that I know. Even if you don’t say it, you’ve always found a way to show it. And I see the way you look at me sometimes; you think I don’t notice, but I do. And I can’t describe it; what it looks like. How your eyes and your face look. I just know how it makes me feel when I see it. It makes me feel beautiful and incredible and...I don’t know…loved.”

“I’ve always loved you. I always will. I need you to know that. Just in case. I need to know that you know.”

“I know. I’ve always known, Tyler. I knew on the bridge. I knew before you did. It was in your eyes. It’s always in your eyes.”

“I have a confession to make. About seven years ago.”

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

“It’s nothing bad. It’s just…it’s about the first time. In the hotel room. When I grabbed you.”

“When you tried to choke me out, you mean?” she lightly teases.

“I wasn’t angry. I mean, I was. I was pissed off that you didn’t listen to me. But I wasn’t THAT pissed off. That’s not why I did it.”

She combs her fingers through his hair. “Okay…”

“I was trying to scare you.”

“Why?”

“Because I was scared. Because I liked the way you smiled at me. I liked the way you’d always find a way to touch me. I liked the sound of your voice and the way you laughed And I hated that I DID like all of that. I didn’t want to like it. I didn’t want to like YOU. So I tried to scare you away. Because I didn’t want to feel anything else for you. Because everyone I’ve ever loved? I’ve lost. And I didn’t want that happening. Not again. That’s why I did it. I wanted to scare you away.”

“Were you surprised? When it didn’t work?”

“I think it made me even angrier. Because you wouldn’t let me get away with it. But I wasn’t trying to hurt you. I was trying to protect you. From me.”

“There was nothing to protect me from, Tyler. You’re not the monster you think you are. You never have been. And I saw you; the real you. The one you hide from else. There was nothing you could have done to scare me away.”

“And to think you call me stubborn.”

“You are the most stubborn person I’ve ever met. But you're also the sweetest. And the most adorable.”

He frowns. “Shut up.”

“I’m sorry. You are. You have a huge heart in that big body of yours. And you may have been able to hide it from everyone else you’ve ever known, but you’ve never been able to hide it from me. And I love that about you; you’ve never felt a reason to hide it. You’ve always trusted me; right from the first night in Dhaka. When you told me about Austin. You let me see all sides of you. Even the ones that aren’t so pretty.”

“Don’t call me pretty. Or adorable. Or cute.”

“I don’t care what you say. You’re the most adorable mercenary ever.”

“How DARE you insult me like that.”

“I love you,” she says, and pushes his bangs off his forehead. “I only hope one day you’ll know how much,”

“I already know. And I love you. So much. Thank you.”

“For what?”

“You. Us. My kids. My life. Everything.”

She manages a shaky smile, then breaks down once more. Both arms circling his neck as she buries her face in his shoulder. “Can you just hold me? That’s all I want. Just hold me, okay?”

“Okay,” he says, then drops a kiss on the top of her hand and wraps both arms around her. As tight as he possibly can.

*****

Three hours later she finds herself standing on the front porch, watching as the last of the needed gear is loaded into the trunks of the ‘getaway’ vehicles. Despite the stifling heat and oppressive humidity, she can’t stop shivering; the fear and anxiety so powerful it creates a damp, cold sensation that stretches from head to toe and seems to burrow into her bones. It’s nearly a hundred degrees outside and she can’t seem to get warm. Not even with the fleece lined hoodie she keeps tightly wrapped around her.

Every time he leaves for a job it’s difficult; the uncertainty of the situation, the possibility of things going wrong, the potential for serious injury or even death. Normally she’s more optimistic; refusing to let doom and gloom settle in despite how dangerous a mission sounds. But this is beyond anything she’s ever experienced before; aside from seven years ago. How fitting that it’s the same place that carries such a heavy weight; the vivid and brutal memories of the past making it nearly impossible to envision a different outcome in the present.

“How are you holding up?” Koen inquires, as he joins her on the porch. A tactical vest slung over one shoulder, backpack perched on the other.

“I was just going to ask you the same thing.”

“You know me; I’m always up for a challenge.”

“Usually that means a red head with daddy issues,” she teases.

“You’re way too quick for me, you know that? I see how you keep him on his toes. Although I don’t think he stands a chance against you.”

“He’s been a good sport. He hangs in there for some reason. He’s been sticking around for seven years. I’m just hoping he’ll stick around for at least seven more.”

“I don’t think he’s going anywhere. I think he’s a little too crazy about you.”

“Yeah,” she smiles, and pulls the sides of the hoodie even tighter around her. “I’m pretty crazy about him too. Which is why this is so damn hard. I thought I was ready; that I’d be okay when the time came. But I’m not okay. I’m far from okay.”

“Just hang in there a little while longer, kiddo. You’ve come a long way already; be a shame to break down right before the finish line. Your man’s got this; he knows what he’s doing. Smart as hell. Even if he does do dumb shit sometimes. Has a knack of getting me into trouble, that’s for sure.”

“He appreciates it. Koen; everything you’ve done, everything you continue to do. You backed him right away; when he showed up at your place and told you about the business. And you didn't think twice about helping him when all this started. You just agreed to it. Knowing how bad it could get.”

“Well, as much as I shit talk him, I really do love that drongo. I’ve got a soft spot for him. And you and the littles. How could I not? You’re the one who made him who he is now.”

“I know you’re totally overestimating my role in his life.”

“You’re the one who gave him a second chance. Saw past the mess he was. Made him a husband and a daddy again. You’re the one that’s stuck by him through all the bullshit; the booze, the meds, the job. And I know damn well he’s not the easiest person to love.”

“Well he’s made it pretty easy for me. Even at his worst, he’s better than most.”

She watches Tyler as he finishes the last of the preparations before heading out. Standing at the open tailgate of one of the SUVs, quiet and focused despite Rata attempting to carry on a loud and animated -and most likely nervous- conversation. His eyes are darker and the furrows in his brow are present; lips set in a thin, grim line as he works at filling the pockets on the vest he already sports. This is the old Tyler; the one that’s all business with adrenaline coursing through his veins and his instincts and senses running on overdrive.

“You know, I used to like seeing this side of him,” she says. “I used to love it, actually. Seeing the mercenary side of him. Intense, focused. I liked knowing what he was capable of. Now…” she sighs. “...well I don’t like it so much now. How sad is that? What kind of wife would even think that, let alone say it? How horrible am I?”

“One that loves her husband and hates what’s happening to him. You’re not horrible. Let’s cut the shit and stop pretending that this time isn’t different; that the stakes aren’t a lot higher. Has he ever walked into something where someone was intentionally looking to kill him?”

“Not that I know of. Not since I’ve known him.”

“Hard to like anything about a situation like this. Considering what he’s about to walk into?”

“I can’t even believe it got this far. That Mahajan went so far off the deep end that we’re actually at this point? How did this even happen? It’s been seven years! Saju is dead, why would he still want revenge on his family? And to threaten mine? We took Ovi in; we gave him a life. A real life. A real family. We love him like he’s our own. And this is how Mahajan repays us? Threatening my children, putting a bounty on my husband’s head? How the hell did it ever get to this?”

“Some people are fucked,” Koen reasons, and she gives a small, dry laugh. “I wish I had a better explanation. But it’ll all be over soon. We’ll take care of shit here, Anil will handle things with Mahajan. He’s ready to go?”

“As far as I know. He’s got a couple guards he was able to pay off. They’re going to lead him right into the showers when Mahajan is in there. It should be over pretty quick. If you ask me, he deserves something slow and painful. But beggars can’t be choosers, can they.”

“Sooner it’s over, the better.”

“Should have been over a long time ago. If we’d been told about this when it all started, Tyler would have ended it then. But Ovi dropped the ball and then Allison and her games and I just…” she sighs and tucks wayward strands of hair behind her ears. “...a lot of people fucked up. And now my husband has to go and fix it. What else is new? Just watch out for him, okay? Have his back? Please.”

“You know I will. I’ve followed him this far. Might as well go balls to the wall.”

She struggles to hold back a flood of tears. “Would it be too much to ask that you bring him back in one piece?”

“You got it kiddo.” He draws her into a tight hug and presses a kiss to her temple. “Hang in there, okay? We’re almost there.”

“You be safe,” Esme says, and affectionately pats his cheek when he holds her at arm's length. “It’s kind of nice having grandpa Koen around.”

“I never said you call me that.”

“I don’t remember asking your permission.”

“Smart ass,” he smirks, then playfully tousles her hair before stepping away. Giving Tyler a nod and a small smile; patting him on the shoulder as he takes his place on the porch.

“I can’t look at you,” she says, as her hands busy themselves tightening the Velcro secured straps on his vest. “If I look at you, I’ll cry. And the last thing you need is me crying right now. I can do that when you leave.”

He places his hands on the side of her face, then presses a kiss to her hair. Neither of them speak; their eyes closed, his chin resting on the top of her head, her hands tightly gripping his forearms.

“Be safe,” she pleads.

“Always.”

“I love you. I love you so much. I wish that was enough; to get you through this”

“It’s enough,” Tyler assures her. “It’s always enough.”

A smile tugs at the corners of her mouth, and she finally raises her head to look at him. “I won’t ask. I know you don’t want me to.”

“You ask, and I’ll do it. I’ll stay. And that’ll just bring even more problems.”

“I know. I know why it has to be you. Doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

“It’s going to be alright.” He cradles her face in his palms and kisses her. Longer and more intense than usual. “I gotta go,” he moves a hand to the back of her neck and places a kiss to her forehead. “See you when I see you.”

“Yeah, you will.”

He pecks the tip of her nose, then runs a hand over the top of her head and down her hair before stepping off the porch.

“Hey!” she calls to him, and he stops and turns towards her.

“Remember the first time around, when we said we were going to travel when we got out of Dhaka?”

“Yeah, I remember.”

“You totally bailed on me. I think you owe me a trip, Tyler Rake,”

A grin plays in the corners of his mouth. “I definitely do,” he says, and then turns and heads for the waiting car.

#Tyler Rake #Tyler Rake fan fiction #Tyler Rake fan fic #Extraction #Extraction 2020 #Extraction fan fiction #Chris Hemsworth character #best part of me

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ruensroad · 4 years

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i'd love to see ur take on wangxian in ur gods au... maybe 37, 121, or 128 from the prompts?

Ahh a triple! I know it says ‘or’ but I really couldn’t help myself!

Part of this Xicheng AU here!

Prompt from this list here!

Prompt 37, 121, & 128 | “I had a dream about you.” / “There’s nothing we can do.” / “It’s called a prank.” | Wangxian

Over the month Wei Wuxian had been married to the God of Love, he’d discovered Lan Wangji was actually rather ridiculous when it came to sleeping. Up at five in the morning right on the dot, then asleep at nine at night with the same precision. It stirred in Wei Wuxian the urge to thoroughly wreck such a schedule, especially since it was sadly clear his husband was a damned morning person - five in the morning. Five! What nonsense - but given Lan Wangji always looked so well rested, Wei Wuxian found himself refraining, if only because he knew Lan Wangji was unhappy enough being tied down to the social reject of the entire cosmos and he didn’t need Love hating him more than he already did - the irony of which such a statement was not lost on him.

So, when A-Yuan came to bid him goodnight sometime near midnight with a furrow in his brow and told him Lan Wangji was actually awake and standing at his balcony was… unusual. Very unusual.

“He looked distressed,” A-Yuan told him, wringing his hands. Over the time they’d met, the young man and Lan Wangji had grown close, reaching a connection Wei Wuxian was still struggling to find with the surprisingly icy god, but he could understand his concern. After all, Lan Wangji never really showed his true feelings, at least not to Wei Wuxian, and the knowledge that his husband was now in distress and losing sleep was the proof he needed that Lan Wangji’s firm mask was starting to crack. Perhaps even had broken, finally.

“I’ll go talk to him,” Wei Wuxian assured A-Yuan and waved his hand over his workshop to blow out every fire and light still burning. “Get some sleep.”

He was hugged and left to make good on his promise, though that was easier said than done. The mountain and valley base he lived in were all his, and every door to his home could be opened with a mere thought. Lan Wangji’s door was no different. Wei Wuxian, as a token of truce and sort of wedding gift, had set a new spell on it so that Lan Wangji could lock it at will and only let in those he allowed. Wei Wuxian still had the power to break the spell, since it was his own, but he respected the boundary firmly set between them. Lan Wangji generally opened the door to him anyway, if only because it was polite, but there had been times he had refused. Wei Wuxian hoped tonight would not be one of those times.

“Lan Zhan?” It had not endeared him to his husband, calling him so formally, but Lan Wangji had just as quickly returned the favor. It was not necessarily progress, but it was a step in the right direction. After all, Wei Wuxian was the only one to call him that, and in return, Lan Wangji was the only one to call him Wei Ying and make it sound like angry poetry too.

He maybe loved it more than he ought, but he figured there were worse things than to start falling in love with your own spouse. He was more than excused.

Silence greeted him, which he expected, and gently rapped his knuckles on the door. “Lan Zhan, I know you’re awake. A-Yuan was worried.”

He didn’t bother asking if Lan Wangji was alright. He was awake, therefore something had happened. But Wei Wuxian could only care about it if he knew what it was about and that hinged entirely on his husband opening the door, or keeping him locked out.

Amazingly, the door cracked open in a gentle breeze of sandalwood and incense. Wei Wuxian blinked in surprise but obediently slipped through the opening and shut the door softly behind him.

Lan Wangji was stunningly beautiful, as was right for the God of Love. It was a well worn fact, something everyone knew, but to see it in person was still a breathtaking experience. Wei Wuxian was well acquainted with his icy mask, which was lovely, and hints of irritation and exasperation, which only made him prettier. Seeing him now, tired and almost confused, he was suddenly beautiful in a way Wei Wuxian had never noticed. A real beauty, unhidden. Just simply so.

Wei Wuxian stepped up beside him, keeping a distance just short of fully respectful, but Lan Wangji did not, for once, give him a reproachful look for it. His dark eyes were on the horizon, as though he were waiting for the sun to rise. He’d be waiting a long while, if that were the case, and Wei Wuxian felt a spike of worry.

“What has you up, husband?” he asked, trying the title. It generally got him more of a reaction than not.

Lan Wangji sighed and glared a little, which was a good sign. If Love could still glare at him like that, then all was not lost yet. Wei Wuxian smiled right back.

“Standing out here like a pallid, beautiful ghost, it’s no wonder A-Yuan was worried,” he teased, hoping to further that irritation. Lan Wangji was more likely to speak when he wheedled, and only to make him go away, or stop talking. Not the best basis for a marriage maybe, but it was still something. “You must have given him quite a fright.”

He narrowed his eyes at Lan Wangji as though assessing him. Lan Wangji blinked slowly back, though a twitch of irritation was starting to pull at his eyes again. “Are you sure you’re my husband and not just a very convincing ghost replica?”

Another sigh. “Wei Ying.”

“Mm, that was close, but my Lan Zhan tends to say my name with far more indigation than that,” Wei Wuxian hummed in exaggerated, disappointed thought. “Try again.”

Another glare too, progress. “Wei Ying.”

“Almost,” Wei Wuxian said, grinning wide, and gestured wildly at Lan Wangji’s everything in support. “Again, again. More angst. More gruff!”

“Wei Ying.”

“No, no, now you’re just sounding too tired.” Wei Wuxian set his hands on his hips and did the best impression of Lan Wangji’s cold fury that he could muster. “Like this: Wei Ying. Hear that inflection? That’s the important bit. Wei Ying. Wei Ying. Now you try.”

Lan Wangji looked at him like Wei Wuxian was every regret he’d ever had in his life. “Wei Ying.”

“That is me, husband!” Wei Wuxian exclaimed then leaned on the bannister with a joyful laugh. Better to be an annoyance and therefore a distraction then sit in all that sadness. Lan Wangji was no longer staring out like a lost child which was all that mattered. “And there you are, Lan Zhan, you were starting to worry me.”

“Did not mean to,” Lan Wangji said with as few words as possible, as always.

Wei Wuxian tucked his hand under his chin, watching him close. “That will not stop me, you know,” he chuckled. “I’ll worry whether you mean to or not, as well A-Yuan and everyone else. You’re family now. That’s just how it works. Understand?”

To his surprise and delight, Lan Wangji’s ears started to go red. The fierce God of Love, blushing like a maiden! “Mn.”

Wei Wuxian had to bite on his tongue very pointedly to not ruin the moment, though he desperately wanted to. Blushing or not, Lan Wangji still looked troubled, and if he was tossed out now, he’d never be able to help.

“So, what has you up?” he said once he was sure the urge to swoon was firmly squashed. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you break your sleeping schedule.”

That blush grew more pronounced, but so did the furrow in his brow. Wei Wuxian was caught on how charming he looked, how like a child, puzzling through something new. “Had a dream.”

“A bad dream?” Wei Wuxian guessed. He sincerely hoped Lan Wangji was not the kind of man to be this distressed over good dreams.

He got a little nod in answer, which was more than he’d expected. “Want to talk about it?”

Lan Wangji’s neck was flushed now and he glanced very pointedly away. But it wasn’t the usual dismissal, angry and quick. It was more… embarrassment?

“I… no.” Unconvincing, that. Wei Wuxian only had to raise an unimpressed eyebrow at him for Lan Wangji to backpedal. “I… it was about… you. The dream.”

“You dreamed about me? A bad dream?” Wei Wuxian blinked at that and felt his smile slip away. Lan Wangji looked ready to flee at any provocation and Wei Wuxian was determined to not let him. Calmly, he straightened and set a hand on Lan Wangji’s wrist. As ever, the god was cold, whereas Wei Wuxian ran hot, and he hoped it was a soothing warmth, not something to dislike. “As you can see, Lan Zhan, nothing bad has happened to me, so please put it out of your mind. A dream is just a dream.”

Lan Wangji shook his head once, firmly, and turned to him abruptly enough Wei Wuxian flinched. His hand was grabbed in turn and held and suddenly his husband was looking at him with such a fierce expression all the breath rushed out of him. “No, it could happen,” Lan Wangji insisted. “The Golden King could… he could…”

He could do many things, Wei Wuxian knew well. He’d been on the sharp end of Jin Guangshan’s judgement enough to know personally, and this marriage was no exception. Lan Wangji was a casualty of the chief god’s petty desires and was rightfully afraid.

Wei Wuxian covered Lan Wangji’s trembling hand with his own. “What did he do to me that he hasn’t done to me already?” he asked, not unkindly. “I’m an Exile, Lan Zhan, and deathless. There is not much else he can do.”

Lan Wangji’s lips thinned and he shook his head again, curt and angry. “He could end this,” he said, almost desperate. “Make me leave.”

Wei Wuxian stared at him in disbelief, realizing just what Lan Wangji’s fears rested. “You… don’t want to leave?” Not his smartest statement, but Lan Wangji nodded all the same, looking almost hurt at his surprise. That look snapped Wei Wuxian back and he gripped Lan Wangji’s hand in reassurance. “You are my husband now, Lan Zhan. Mine. And I am yours. He cannot undo us because we are no longer under his control. He has no rightful grounds to even try.”

Lan Wangji did not look reassured, not in the least. “He is the Golden King,” he pointed out, deflating, and Wei Wuxian wanted to groan aloud to see it. His husband, a terrible morning person and a rule follower? Truly, Jin Guangshan had been cruel indeed to bind them as husbands. “There’s nothing we can do.”

“Seven Hells, there is not,” Wei Wuxian scoffed, startling him. “Lan Zhan, he can just try. I will fight for you. I will tear his world down if I have to. You are mine and I am yours. He has no say and there is nothing he can do to keep me from forever standing by you. Understood?”

Dazed and blushing, Lan Wangji nodded, and his eyes slowly smoothed out, dark and deep and wondering. Wei Wuxian knew his power was up, heightened by his emotions, and stood tall in it, letting his husband see fully just who he had married. A prankster, yes. An outcast, yes. A true threat to punish, also yes.

“I am yours,” Lan Wangji said after a moment, voice low but steady, and actually sounded sure of it. “You are mine.”

“As long as you want me, I am here,” Wei Wuxian said, grinning like the wild thing he was, and wanted to cry at the tiniest turn of lips that answered him. “So stop with your sleepless nights. Dreams are just dreams. If you dream about me again, come find me so I can remind you of this again and again, no matter how many times it takes.”

“He could still hurt you,” Lan Wangji said, not quite letting go of that. Wei Wuxian chuckled to see that stubbornness in him.

“He could. He has,” he agreed. “But again, Lan Zhan, what can he do to me that he hasn’t already done?”

“Hurt you. More,” Lan Wangji said, steadfast in that.

“I’m not scared of him,” Wei Wuxian huffed, because he wasn’t. “Just look at my workshop, Lan Zhan. I’m going to teach him a lesson about trying to court you when it’s been clear you are not interested. And are married now.”

Lan Wangji actually looked disapproving, finally, and Wei Wuxian snickered. “Wei Ying. That is treason.”

“No, it’s called a prank,” Wei Wuxian laughed and leaned in a bit closer, delighted that Lan Wangji was letting him. “What can he do? Exile me?”

Lan Wangji actually considered that, because he was ridiculous. Wei Wuxian felt his heart stutter and squeeze with all the love he felt and would feel and wanted to feel. Even if Lan Wangji tired of him one day, dissolved their marriage and moved on, Wei Wuxian suddenly knew he’d be stuck on him forever and happily so. Who knew he’d have to thank the Golden King for anything, and for something this good?

“Don’t cause trouble,” Lan Wangji decided on, because apparently he couldn’t argue the truth. Wei Wuxian could only laugh and grin, all promise and reckless adventure.

“I am trouble, husband.”

#ruenwrites #wangxian #greek gods au #this was way too fun ahhh #lan wangji #wei wuxian #xicheng

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iglooface · 3 years

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Just Venting bc I'm feeling down but I'm too nervous to bother any particular person or friend bc I don't want to damper their mood bc I'm not perfect

Okay but like is this a universal experience to just be brutally compared to your siblings and peers to the point where you can't even validate yourself for any progress. I just feel like shit today bc of the effect my sister's life has on me. Throughout my highschool experience I tried so fucking hard to make my parents proud but I was never enough and I never will be honestly. But that won't stop me from subconsciously yearning for their approval and validation so I can feel just an ounce of closure in my life. I'd come home with all A's and be at the top of my class in every subject but my parents would say things like "well if you're so good then why are you in regular classes when your sister is in AP World History?" Because we all know the best way to bring up children's spirits is to break down all signs of confidence. Or if when a class got hard and I started getting B's and C's they'd lecture me about how "our family doesn't get B's and C's" and I'd get grounded instead of helped. Or the fact that I graduated nearly a whole year early because of my intensive school work but "your older sister is already moved out and married, what's your excuse" even though I was literally only 17 fucking years old.

Or how about when you were 12 or 13 and you cried and begged every day to not be sent back to school because of how viciously you were being bullied by your peers and that your teacher was verbally abusing you every day and straight up beating you most days as well. But no, you still went back bc "everybody hates school, deal with it."

How often did I need to be told to suffer silently until I just gave up? How many times did I have to be beaten and burned for having emotions until I just stopped? How many of my friends and teachers needed to die before I could no longer have reasons to allow myself to feel any emotion other than happy, helpful, and ready to serve? How is it that I went to school all thirteen years constantly bleeding, bruised, and having minimal sleep and watched the people I loved most take their lives only to outshine my sisters records and surpass every educational goal I was given only to be yelled at and constantly lectured about not being enough? Was it because I couldn't hold a job because of my health and that I was a full time highschool student? Was it because I was a "troubled" kid bc my friends dyed their hair and had piercings? Or was it that I was born a girl when my parents wanted a boy? What the fuck did I do so wrong that everyone around me saw it fit to see how far I could be pushed before I snapped and killed myself.

I can't emphasize this enough, but I was being beaten abused every day in school by a fucking teacher when I was 13. For an entire year. And no matter the toll it took on my physical, mental, and emotional health, nor how many peers it took from me, me how many times I went home exhausted and on the verge of throwing up I was just told to get over it. That I was told that if it was really that bad someone would help me. That I would be saved. Someone would notice and care. But instead I was left scared and alone and had adopted animal like behaviors to protect myself. I couldn't socialize without panicking and I hated being touched, perceived, and even talking. Three of my friends killed themselves over the treatment. And my teachers died intermittently just to add some spice. I couldn't look people in the eyes and I flinched at any movement towards me and loud sounds made me cry. I developed such a bad panic disorder that I had a panic attack so intense it sent me into full blown shock and stopped my heart for 20 seconds and I stayed blacked out for over three hours. All because I was told to get over it and suffer silently. My parents didn't care, they just wanted me quiet and low maintenance. I was treated like an animal instead of a child.

I overdosed on drugs so many times I can't even remember them all because I was hoping that maybe if I didn't wake up, even if it was just for a few hours or days, I'd be better. If I took enough chemical damage I would forget my trauma and become better. That anything I'm the damn world was better than living another day with my wretched circumstances.

And you know what happened? I got in trouble for things my sisters did.

My younger sister took and flunked spanish as a freshman. She willingly signed up for spanish 2 as a sophomore despite not wanting to. She then started throwing temper tantrums constantly and eventually spiralled into threatening to kill herself because she didn't want to take that forsaken class. And I got in trouble for it. I was told I should have told her or guided her so that she wouldn't have signed up for spanish and she would have taken literally any other fucking class available. I was in the wrong bc I was focused on my own schooling and didn't have an omnipotent control over my sister and her education schedule.

Move forward to current day, only about eight months later. My sister's coworker's friend commit suicide via train last night. I instinctively knew I'd be in trouble bc that's just how it works in my family. Despite having received no disciplinary actions last night I was still incredibly nervous because I could feel the impending danger of the situation. Once my sister was at work today my mom lectured me and yelled at me for three hours about how the co-worker's friend commit suicide and how it was bad and selfish of me to have had friends in the past who killed themselves in a time like this. That my past trauma was problematic because I couldn't undo it. That it was bad and sinful of me to even know people who committed suicide when people like my sister new people of the same circumstances. I was in trouble for someone's actions even though I didn't even have a remote relationship to the person. How dare I even have trauma when my sister is suicidal and has a coworker with a dead friend. That I should serve her hand and foot even moreso than I already do bc "she's coping" even though she literally didn't even know the guy. I'm also in trouble because if she keeps flunking her classes she has rn she's going to be forced to drop out and that will make her life harder. If you look closely with your double seeing glasses you can see the amount of bullshit they used to connect those dots.

But let me get this straight, I'm in trouble for having a rough go at school and graduating with honors and a year early and that my sister is suicidal and flunking classes she chose to take and she gets to drop out bc she can't handle the consequences of her own fucking decisions. Yeah. Cuz that makes sense. Child 2 is in trouble bc Child 3 acts irrationally.

Maybe it's the lack of any form of emotional release, maybe it's the pent up rage and anger and depression that I've built up in the last thirteen years, but not a damn thing makes sense there

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britesparc · 4 years

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Weekend Top Ten #433

Top Ten Things I Want from Xbox Series X

June is Games Month here at David’s Top Tens! That’s right, all month long we’re exploring the majesty of what we all used to call “computer games” before we became too cool. That’s because it’s the time of year when huge multinationals tantalise us with pre-rendered cinematics showcasing gaming experiences utterly divorced from what we’ll get to play. Even in this Time of Crisis (as opposed to a Time Crisis), games companies are still Touting Their Wares, and as such, I am brimming with fanboy fervour, tantalised at the prospect of Gaming Yet to Come. This week alone has seen sexy new videos from the likes of EA, Pokémon, and Sony – whose PlayStation 5 reveal gave us the best glimpse yet at exactly what the next generation could look like. I was impressed; although there wasn’t too much in the way of radically new concepts or whatever, games looked good, with plenty of sexy, shiny new bells and whistles, and it looked like environments will be bigger, more fluid, and more reactive than ever before. Plus seeing the ray-tracing in Ratchet and Clank: Rift Apart gave me serious “Quake II running on a 3D accelerator card” vibes. Suddenly I was sixteen again, getting all sticky-knickered over texture filtering and coloured lightning.

It was great.

However, I’m pretty much an Xbox-first gamer; mostly, I suppose, due to inertia, having gotten used now to how an Xbox works, to the point where a PlayStation always feels a little alien (still wanna play The Last of Us Part II, though). I’m more of a fan of the Xbox game franchises – the main reason I bought an original Xbox in the first place (way back in 2001) was to play Halo: Combat Evolved, and because of the promise of Fable. This love of Xbox games has only grown with the acquisition of Rare (despite the slight misstep of Perfect Dark Zero) and the release of games like Crackdown, Gears, and Forza Horizon. So as much as I try to be open-minded – and certainly I try to avoid any kind of partisan mud-slinging – I guess I’m pretty much in the tank for Xbox. As such, I’m phenomenally excited for Xbox Series X. I got an Xbox One at launch, and despite all of the hullaballoo and criticism, I’ve always really liked it. I think it’s kind of struggled compared to its predecessors (cult favourite OG Xbox and revolutionary Xbox 360), and hasn’t quite had the era-defining games that both of those enjoyed. All that being said, though, I’ve had loads of fun with it, and so have my wife and kids. But I’ve stuck with the same machine all these years, never upgrading to the more streamlined Xbox One S or the super-duper-sexy Xbox One X. So when I do upgrade, I think the jump will be far more noticeable than someone who’s been enjoying Red Dead Redemption 2 or Gears 5 on a 4K display; it should really feel like a new generation. And that’s before we get to all of the traced rays and other lovely gubbins.

Anyway, when it’s this time of year, I tend to do a semi-comical “E3 predictions” list, followed by a “Stuff I liked at E3” list. Obviously E3 isn’t really happening, but these other online game reveals are, and given my aforementioned excitement over Series X – and Microsoft’s upcoming and much-anticipated reveal of first-party titles – I thought I’d divert my thoughts to what I want to see on the new console. However, unlike the traditional E3 predictions of yore, I’m going to look at what I’d like from the console rather than what games I’d like to see. Partly that’s because these announcement videos are getting spread so far and wide that it’s hard to keep track of what’s been revealed or when we’re likely to see something; partly it’s because we already know quite a few Xbox games that are coming out; and partly because the list would just degenerate into older franchises I want to see come back round again. Plus, with Crackdown 3 having already happened, a new Fable more-or-less an open secret, and a new Perfect Dark being very heavily rumoured, my go-to “wants” are getting thin on the ground. Perhaps Tim Schafer can bring his old LucasArts classics to the Xbox next year…? Whatever, this time around, I’m looking at that big black box and thinking about what features and design elements I’d like to see. What could be improved from how the Xbox One works? How would I like Microsoft to leverage their assets – from the faster SSD to the power of Project xCloud? Basically, what do I want Xbox Series X to be like, outside from glittering reflections on Master Chief’s shiny armour?

Streamlined, faster dashboard: now they’ve already said that the Xbox Series X dash will be effectively identical to the Xbox One dash, which is a trifle disappointing, but I hope that doesn’t mean that both systems can’t get an improved dashboard before Christmas. At the moment things are a bit fiddly, and I’d like to use the improved SSD to mean seamless transitions from page to page. Make it super-easy to get to your game library. Allow more customisation of the landing page. How about allowing us to resize icons, like on Windows 10? Don’t have quite so many obscure categories clogging up the front page. Use the shoulder buttons to hop between sections. Make it more about the games I can play rather than connectivity, shopping, or chatting. Stuff like that.

Integrated streaming: with Project xCloud on the (official) horizon, hopefully we can integrate that service into how the Xbox works. How’s about letting us stream demos straight from the store? Or stream games while they install/download? Or the option to stream any game we own rather than play it from the console? Or cast games from console to phone, or tablet, or PC, so we can enjoy the benefits of Series X hardware in the palm of our hands?

Discless play: teased then withdrawn from the Xbox One launch as it require the internet to check, I hope this can make a belated return. I like physical media, but I also like not having to get off the couch to change discs. I’d be very willing to accept an always-on connection as the price for playing a game without the disc in. If they could find some way to implement this and keep everyone happy, I’d be delighted.

Improved Guide menu: the best thing about the Xbox 360 interface was the Guide menu, which – certainly by the end of the generation – basically offered you full console functionality from one simple pause-button menu. The One Guide has been refined but could go further. Offer instant access to all our games, and all the system settings. Let us seamlessly jump from one thing to another and back again. Let us view all our captures quickly and easily. And let us go through game-by-game and see all our achievements, cycling through their related imagery. Basically, make it more like the 360, please.

Standardised settings: another amazing thing the 360 did that was totally walked back for the One is the idea of having a standardised range of settings that were applied across your entire profile. So if you want to invert your Y-axis, you tick one box, then all games are inverted. This was fantastic, and Microsoft were daft for undoing it. Make it good again! You have the power!

Refined subscription services: I think Game Pass is the future of Xbox, and I think xCloud is the future of Game Pass. This seems fairly obvious to me. I don’t know how much money Microsoft makes from Game Pass, but the way they’re leveraging their entire gaming strategy around it suggests that it’s a much stronger money-spinner for them than the traditional console market. I just hope that eventually the myriad Xbox subscriptions can be refined. Perhaps “Gold” as we understand it could be retired, replaced with a simple three-tier monthly sub, similar to Netflix; Game Pass Bronze (limited multiplayer, limited ability to download games from the library); Silver (Gold and Game Pass as we understand it, plus limited streaming), and Gold (all the games plus full streaming of everything)? This would, hopefully, mean we could get some of the benefits at a reduced cost (say, a fiver a month), and the “free” games in Game Pass would offset the loss of Games With Gold, perhaps.

Switch app: simply put, this would be cool: the ability to stream Xbox games on a Switch. Nothing more to it than that, really; the Switch form factor and controls would lend themselves to the Xbox experience effortlessly, and it’d mean I could continue my Halo campaign whilst my wife hogs the Xbox with Stardew Valley again.

Tangible differences between generations: on the one hand, I really applaud Microsoft’s blended approach to console generations. Smart Delivery, Backwards Compatibility, and Play Anywhere combine to form a very consumer-friendly approach; if you a buy a game now, you’re more-or-less guaranteed the best possible version come the Series X launch in November (or whenever). The downside to this, however, is a slight nagging feeling that we’re not going to see the best that the console can do; it’s fair enough that the Xbox One and Series X versions of Halo Infinite are, to all intents and purposes, on the same disc, and your progress and achievements carry over; but does this not mean that, aside from improvements in graphics and loading times, the Series X version is functionally identical? Is it just like upgrading a graphics card? Ratchet and Clank boasted some nifty dimension-hopping technology that presumably is a core part of the gameplay and looked like something that maybe wasn’t possible this gen; will Xbox owners miss out on features like that? If Series X could, say, give us a new Fable that presented as one continuous open world with no “hubs” or separated areas or loading, with some kind of magical traversal that allowed us to rocket across the landscape on a broomstick or whatever, would that not be handicapped by having to carry save game data over from the inevitable Xbox One version? Basically, I’m fascinated by how it’s going to work, but I hope we’re not going to end up slightly short-changed from a featureset point of view.

New hardware: not just the Series X itself, obviously; and not even the strongly-rumoured “Series S” either. I mean other bits and bobs. As they’ve already shown us the controller, I can’t realistically wish for one that had a microphone in it, but a tiny mic attachment maybe? Alongside the obvious headset. I wanna talk to the machine, basically; it was the one genuine benefit of Kinect. Also: a new, improved, media remote. A wireless mouse and keyboard, or some kind of lap-based hybrid. A new camera, not as invasive or scary as Kinect, just so we can use the Xbox to Skype people. And y’know what? VR support. Doesn’t have to be unique, bespoke headsets; just let us use PC ones, and let developers support VR in Xbox games. I don’t have the money or space to upgrade my laptop to be VR-ready, but if I had a PlayStation you can be damn sure I’d have PSVR. Half-Life: Alyx might be a pipe dream, but can I play Star Wars Squadrons at least?

Don’t bankrupt me: yeah, this. I’m cautiously optimistic that Microsoft will at least attempt to make this manageable; the recent rumour that it’d sell for $399 was much appreciated even if I think it’s supremely unlikely, especially if Lockheart/Series S is a thing. With Sony giving out noises that the PS5 will be a “good value” proposition rather than cheap, I think MS will strongly attempt to undercut them, but also not feel the need to go stupidly low. So please, Microsoft: $450, top end. Please don’t give us a $499 box. I’m already gonna be forking out for a new TV so I’d appreciate if I could keep the whole cost. For what it’s worth, I think the prices of all the new consoles will be: PS5 $499; XSX $449; PS5 DE $399; XSS $299. There you go: I managed to slip in an E3 prediction right at the very end. Prove me wrong, guys!

Phew, that was another epic one. But it was fun. I guess it’s weird to try to talk about the feel of a console without having used it. There are things I’d like improving with the look and feel of Xbox, but it’s hard to quantify it; stuff that’s clunky on a daily basis. And I’m probably an edge case anyway: someone with a huge interest in games and gaming, but who’s not very interested in multiplayer, and who – because of time and money but mostly time – rarely plays new releases, and takes ages to complete a game. But anyway. I’m dead excited about the Xbox Series X, and I can’t wait to hear more.

#top ten #xbox #games #gaming #xbox series x #e3 2020 #microsoft

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raging-violets · 5 years

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The Flash and The Flame 5 Year Anniversary

After five fics, 1123 review, 182,988 hits, 541 favorites, 210 chapters, and 1,676,613 words, today, October 18, 2019, it has been five years since I started The Flash and The Flame series; a series of fanfictions that follow my OCs Cadence and Brady Nash throughout the show The Flash. I’m extremely excited, surprised, and proud of myself for having had stuck with a show/series for so long. The last one I had done in this avenue was Big Time Rush, and while that was fun and it made me write for the very first OCs I’ve created and still write (along with my sister), the Jacksons, The Flash was my first big foray into a long story for any OC I’ve come up with.

The Flash is one of my favorite TV shows and being able to stick with some characters for as long as the show is going, it something I hope I never get tired of. I don’t have as much time as I’d like to write the story, the sequel (the sixth story and for the fifth season of the show), or make edits as I used to, but this series is something I’m constantly working on, constantly talking about in real life (with my sisters), and constantly enjoying as I work to make it the best series of fics as I can make it. Cadence and Brady aren’t one of my OCs that gets the most traction on here and certainly aren’t my most popular OCs, but I love them as much as I love the Jacksons and they’re going to be ones I continue to have, hopefully, as long as I’ve got the Jacksons.

To celebrate my five years of writing for this series, I want to share with you a lot of different ‘behind the scenes’ type looks through the OCs and fics within the story. Who knows, maybe some more people will be interested in it through reading this? Lol. Happy 5 Years Flash and the Flame, Happy 5 Years Cadence, and Happy 5 Years Brady! Here’s to many more!

A Character Study on Cadence Nash

A Character Study on Brady Nash

Flash Fire - Even though her life as a normal human ended in a flash of heat, the fire in her heart continued to burn. The arrival of the fire metahuman, Cadence Nash, brings the arrival of a sinister criminal organization that's closer to Barry and S.T.A.R. Labs than originally thought. Especially when he becomes her new target. But is she really evil? Her connection to Harrison Wells creates a stir among the others among the mysteriousness of her past. Then there's Barry, who's sudden side-effects of his powers is causing him to put himself into even more danger than ever expected. Wasn't having the power of speed supposed to help him? With secrets and lies abound it'll take everything for Team Flash to figure out what's the truth and who their real enemy is. The Flash is about to get burned. *Team Arrow will become a big part of the story once they make their appearance*. S1

Crossfire - After the fall of the Suicide Squad and Assassination Bureau, Barry turns his sights back to the Man in Yellow whose identity is heavily guarded. Add in the return of the Rogues and a mysterious Black Flash and Barry finds himself struggling to keep ahead of the chaos. Back from Metropolis, Cadence has a newfound appreciation of her life and her friends in Central City while furthering control of her powers. But she soon becomes caught in the crossfire of deep-seeded resentment and revenge with her only option being to turn to a point in her life she never wanted to return. It's only a matter of time until everything comes to a head. Every revolution begins with a spark. S1

Fuel to the Fire - Now that Barry has managed to save Central City, Team Flash works its way to come back together after the events of the singularity tore it apart. But the singularity brings in the new threat of the speedster, Zoom, and the mysterious Jay Garrick. With the weight of saving the city on his shoulders once more Barry struggles to move on in all areas of his life and finds he may be too late. Cadence has finally gained control of her powers as well as her family life. Having to deal with her ex-boyfriend is hard enough when her feelings for a certain speedster grow, but to deal with a fire obsessed criminal following her around makes things one hundred times more difficult. Then an unforeseen tragedy may knock her progress askew and fan the flames of her inner turmoil. Through their own problems Barry and Cadence continue to grow closer while working to stop Zoom breaking through the reasons they stayed apart, bringing new meaning to the phrase 'love is friendship set on fire'. Throwing in Brady's and Cisco's developing powers, a time traveling villain, and a sudden decrease in temperatures around Central City and Barry finds protecting Central City to be harder than ever before. S2.

Friction - Barry thought saving his mother would fix everything; that it'd heal his grief over having lost both of his parents to rival speedsters, that nothing bad would happen in his life ever again. It made everything worse. What was an idealistic life turns out to be a nightmare and Barry wants to change things back to normal. But when he goes back to undo his mistake, it continues to make things spiral in more ways than he thought possible. Now more people are becoming metas, his best friend is doomed to die, and it looks like he's not fast enough to stop it from happening. Cadence thought she could handle the Assassination Bureau; she wasn't working for them anymore, she broke their hold over her, she was her own hero. But they broke out of the Pipeline and are on the loose with more to prove than ever before. Now they can set their plan in motion. Barry's altering of the timelines proves Cadence is their continued pawn in plans to wipe out modern civilization and take over the world. But what's harder to deal with; the storm of your biggest rival being your best friend or knowing the impending destruction of the world is your fault? No matter the storm, Barry, Cadence, and Team Flash have to whether it together. S3.

Burn - Barry's six month absence within the SpeedForce has ended and he needs to come to grips to what's changed since he's been gone. The team that used to have his back has fallen apart and are struggling to get back to where they used to be. Add in a villain who is always one step ahead of him, and Barry has a lot on his mind and can hardly keep up. Since Breathaker's fall and Savitar's destruction Cadence is the new leader of Team Flash and is struggling with her own demons in Barry's absence and his subsequent return. After an encounter with new anti-meta tech, she truly understands what it means to be powerless. All of this is taking Cadence’s attention along with Brady’s sudden dislike of Barry, his own powers manifesting in ways he’d never seen before, and is terrified of, and his growing up before her eyes. Then they find their names at the top of a hit list of metas that have slowly been disappearing. –S4- Barry/OC

#ocappreciation #toalltheocsivelovedbefore #dailycomicbookocs #oc: cadence nash #oc: brady nash #the flash #series: the flash and the flame #fic: flash fire #fic: crossfire #fic: fuel to the fire #fic: friction #fic: burn #happy 5 years #anniversary

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lovelykhaleesiii · 5 years

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Jealous Much

Pairing: Michael Langdon x Reader

Words: 2.1k

Summary: Michael gets jealous of the reader’s friendship with Timothy, and wants to make damn sure she knows who she really belongs to...

Warnings: angsty!Michael, S M U T, dom!Michael, nsfw, short time jump (***)

REQUESTED BY - @littleirishsnot22

A/N - Thanks so much for your patience love, hope you enjoy this xox

Boredom, was the one thing that thrived within Outpost 3. It had been months since the nuclear attacks, and the destruction of the world took place: and yet here you stood alive, all thanks to your ‘unique genetic code.’ Much to your relief, you weren’t the only figure to have shared the same story of survival. Timothy, one of the few people you’d resided with, was essentially the closest person you could call a friend. Both of you taken in an instant from your families, whom were left to die tragically, both of you had assumed, only to be thrust into this hell hole of a safe haven: you’d both grown to understand one another, and more so to entrust one another. And that was that.

Timothy on the other hand, had also grown closer and much more acquainted with another survivor, Emily: whom you also had become fond of. Nevertheless, as time progressed, both Emily and Timothy had fallen for one another, gradually they both had become captivated in one another, and soon enough they became the discrete ‘it’ couple of the Outpost: which only you knew of course… The rest were either to oblivious or self-conceited to know. Much to the unfortune, however, their relationship was needed to remain unforeseen, for the punishment of sexual, intimate relations of any kind could potentially cost their lives.

And so you swore to Timothy, that you would never tell a soul…That was until the arrival of Michael Langdon disrupted this peace.

Sent from the Cooperative to determine if any were ‘fit’ to accompany him back to the Sanctuary, each person would have a choice in whether they were to undertake a ‘rigorous’ examination scheme. The other alternative was to remain behind to die at the hands of feral cannibals…Undoubtedly, everyone insisted on undergoing their one-on-one interviews with Michael, and you at most however, seemed the most intimidated by him. His stride, his mannerisms, his speech all oozed with confidence and authority. You knew he most certainly wasn’t a man to be meddled with. Yet you couldn’t deny, this mutual feeling between many of you, was how handsome Michael was. The way his luscious, golden locks gently fell unto his shoulders, his figure had impeccable height and was quiet broad, and his features so perfectly accentuated, especially how mesmerising his blue eyes were in the dim light. You couldn’t deny, you felt some attraction, though knew better than to fall for his sheer appearance…

You needed to contain yourself, gain composure before you were called for your round for an interview. And so the only person you felt you could confide in, that you knew could help you to soothe your nerves, was none other than Timothy.

“What if he thinks I’m too ‘improper’ or too ‘inadequate’? I mean I would be useful for the sake of reproduction, but there’s plenty of women already in the compound” You anxiously uttered, as you seated yourself beside Timothy: the both of you alone in the library, knowing best to remain in public than in the privacy of your room, to avoid the threats of Miss Venable.

“Y/n you’re overthinking this. I get Langdon does seem brooding and quite frankl, daunting, at times. Though I can assure you, nothing you say or do could change the fact that you’re the most ideal person to take back. You really are one of the few that deserves another chance at survival.” He reassured, as his hands reached over, gripping yours tightly, as his thumb began to stroke the back of your hand to ease your worries.

“Trust me, Y/n, I can feel it. There’s no way Langdon could resist you” He casually chuckled, trying best to lighten the mood with some slight amusement.

“Oh shut it… I really do hope he accepts you also, and Emily of course, for your sake!” You arrogantly reply, rolling your eyes knowing well enough how inseparable Timothy and Emily had become. The both of you helplessly laughing amongst yourselves, hadn’t noticed the sudden intruding footsteps.

“And what’s the meaning of this?”

Instantly, you recognised the deep, intimidating voice of Michael, booming through the void, startling both Timothy and you. Diverting your attention away from Timothy towards Michael, you were immediately met with those piercing blue eyes, already fixated onto you and only you. You felt your body become paralysed, your mind unable to formulate a response, as your breath hitched in your throat. Thankfully, Timothy was most ardent to excuse you both.

“Oh-uh, just a little rendezvous before heading off for the night, Mr Langdon.” Timothy retorted, causing Michael to divert his gaze from you and to Timothy.

“And what is this rendezvous about?” He exclaimed, hands behind his back, as he began to gradually walk closer, your heart beginning to race as your grip tightened around Timothy’s hands.

“Uh- just contemplating about our interviews, Mr Langdon. That’s all it is.” Timothy replied once again, finishing his revelation with a simple smile of reassurance.

“Let’s hope so. Need I remind you that Emily just completed her interview a few minutes ago, perhaps being the good partner that you are, I advise you should check up on her…Don’t keep her waiting-” Michael snapped: not knowing what exactly he meant or was trying to imply, looking up at him quizzically as his glare became more threatening, the longer he stared at Timothy.

“Uh- Yes, yes of course” Timothy hurriedly stuttered, as he instantly stood from his seat, rushing out of the room, before looking back at you, shrugging his shoulders in excuse for leaving so hastily.

Almost as though in sync, both Michael and you turned your attention away from the entrance of the library, with Timothy having finally left, back unto each other: trepidation began to ignite from within you. Much to your luck, Michael had broken the unbearable silence, with both your eyes however remained locked to one another, as though both of you didn’t want to miss a single detail, nor a single moment from each other.

“Seeing as how your still awake, Miss Y/L/N , perhaps you could accompany me back to my office, so we can begin your interview?”

“N-Now?” You stuttered, knowing well enough that if Miss Venable was to even catch you out past curfew, her wrath would follow.

“Yes, Miss Y/L/N. And I can assure you, you won’t be needing to worry about Miss Venable or her helping hands…Not if your with me.” He exclaimed, before his hand stretched over to you, waiting for you to take it, so he could lead the way.

Without any further hesitation, instinctively a part of you eager for him: you took it…

***

“So who deserves a shot at salvation? Who comes to your mind, Y/n?” He exclaimed, as you both occupied the seats near the fireplace, facing each other directly.

“Uhm- Well I’d suppose Timothy, and uh- Emily, since you know, they’d be up to procreate I suppose, not that I wouldn’t or any of the others, but just because” You began to stutter, your nerves getting the best of you as you tried best to respond diligently.

“No need to worry about the methods of procreation, we already have that covered-” Michael insisted, his hand swaying as means to shrug off the idea from the conversation.

“But tell me about your feelings towards Timothy’s relationship with Emily. How exactly do you feel about it?” He intrigued, leaning his back restfully on the seat, his chin resting on his hand, attentively waiting for your answer. Not wanting to question his method of interviewing, you knew that it was best to simply answer.

“Well-uhm, I don’t really feel much about it. I mean I suppose I am happy for them both, though I don’t see how it has much to do with myself, Mr Langdon.”

“Michael, just call me Michael, Y/n.”

“Michael” You gently repeated.

“So you don’t envy what they have?” Michael further intrigued, now leaning his arms over his knees, his face more distinct and closer.

“Not at all” You quietly murmur.

“Good… I knew that even if Emily was out of the equation, you still wouldn’t go for a boy like Timothy. I know what you want… You want a man.” Michael confidently uttered, as he stood himself from his seat, gradually walking his way towards you, as be knelt down, you both now face to face and just a few inches apart.

“A-And where exactly would I find that m-man?” You stutter, unable to keep yourself composed, as your lust for Michael began to heighten by the sheer second. The longer you spent in the room with him, you felt your own self-control slip away.

“You already have. Timothy was right about one thing... I just couldn’t resist” He breathed, leaning closer, his lips just a few inches away from yours, as you felt his warm breath against your skin.

Chills instantly arose from your back, wanting nothing more than to kiss.

“How long do these interviews go for Mr-I mean- Michael?” You hastily stuttered.

“For however long I want… Now, take off your clothes” He demanded, the tone of his voice casual, yet firm.

Instantly you stood from your seat, simultaneously Michael finally straightening his posture, his figure towering over you, stared down at you.

Watching your every move, as you began to unzip your dress, removing the undergarments, completely exposing your naked body.

“How perfect” He whispered, biting his lip as though to now sustain his self-control.

“Anything else, Michael?” You giddily insisted.

“Bend over that desk” He growled, as you watched his hand travelling down, meeting the zipper of his pants which he began to undo.

Doing as you were told, unable to peer over to see what Michael was doing, you heard loud footsteps edging closer, before you felt a sudden stroke of his throbbing manhood against your asscheek.

“Try to keep quiet, baby. Wouldn’t want the others knowing how different your interview is from theirs” He casually insisted, before ramming his large, protruding dick inside of you.

Instinctively, you let out a short, loud moan, as your tight walls had stretched out like never before: a sharp feeling of pain and excitement rushing through your body.

“So fucking tight” Michael grunted, as he began to pacem his thrusts, grunting each time, penetrating deeper into your pussy.

Unable to fulfill his demand, your moans began to echo throughout the room, as each thrust, precisely hitting your g-spot, triggered a great deal of satisfaction. You craved and ached for more. Yet the sudden, sharp sting of your ass cheek being spanked: it’s loud slap penetrating the room, caught you most off guard.

“What did I say, darling… I need you to stay as silent as possible for me.” He casually snapped, as his hand squeezed your ass cheek, before snaking its way back upto your thigh for support. His thrusts becoming sloppier and deeper, your breasts bouncing in pace.

“Fuck, Michael” You whimper, as his left and remained tightly gripped unto your hip for balance, whilst the right hand, his fingers running through your hair: pulling and tugging at it ever so often to provoke your squirming, vulnerable self beneath.

“Cum for me, baby” Michael growled, wanting nothing more than to reach the climax: feeling your warm juices gush over his throbbing dick. And in return, for him to incite life inside of you: a child.

“I can’t hold it, Michael” You whine, as your hands had tighten their grips on the edge of the wooden table.

“Come on baby, do it!” Michael breathlessly retorted.

And just has he’d hoped, the fresh, warm feeling of your cum spilling all over his large dick, as some oozed from the gaps of your thigh, he felt immensely satisfied.

“Fuck Y/n I’m going too-“

And in tune to yours, Michael’s seeds spilled through all over you walls and the entirety of your inside: imprinting himself inside.

Low moans escaping Michael’s mouth, as his dick remained buried inside of you, allowing the last drench of his sperm to fill you.

Your walls you felt were drenched completely with Michael’s brand: him releasing his dick from you as leant down, determined to catch your breath, in tune with his breathing.

You felt Michael’s body lowering down above you, embracing you, as his chest laid directly against your back, as his fingers ran through your unkempt hair as the other hand gripped the table. Moving the strands aside, his lips pecking the crook of your neck, had travelled a short distance, before it began caressing your ear, these words escaping his mouth:

“I hope from now you know better than to hang around boys like Timothy. Know that you’re mine, only...And that I’m not one to share.”

You’d never felt more ecstatic than to be under Michael’s dominance: he was Michael fucking Langdon… The man you had long awaited for.

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lettersfromthepandemic · 4 years

Text

Letter One - Of Pandemic Times; May 25th 2020

Dear Future Generations,

Chances are you are searching through our Digital archive to learn about the Pandemic of 2020 for a history report. I’ll bet your text books paint a perfectly hind-sighted picture of what truly happened on earth when Covid 19 swept across it.

From where I sit now, things are not so clear. It’s been two months since we’ve entered lockdown and the best we know is that a vaccine will bring this to and end. Realistically, it will be years before the world is safe to visit human beings again and the reality is that for many of us, it will never be the same.

My first letter is a long one. I thought of this while I was dancing in the rain after a thunderstorm. You see, no one walks outside when it rains. I found my freedom in the dripping of water from the clouds. My neighbors think I am nuts. But I laugh it off. The warm summer rain forces everyone inside and I can walk the streets in peace, barefoot and wet without coming across a soul.

I live in America, in a large city. This pandemic has been terrifying. For all the reasons I loved living here before this started; they are now the reasons it is scary. I’ve lost everything I love about being here. I’ve never questioned my choices of city living. Without all the culture, education and entertainment options open. With my industry completely shut down and without work - there is no reason for me to be here. Take that all away and Covid times have got me thinking of buying a house in a small town in the middle of nowhere and starting over.

There is no escape from people. We are packed in too tightly. The sidewalks are too small for walks without bumping into someone. There is no way to control your neighbor and everyone deals with the fear and preparations of keeping safe differently. There is no space to breathe without someone walking through it. A large part of the population won’t wear masks.

You’ll learn as you read different perspectives, how different the experience is for each person living through this time in history.

That’s exactly why I am writing to you today. I want you to know what the journalists, governments and history books won’t tell you. What the social media feeds will fail to demonstrate. I want you to know how it feels to be here. Now, in this time. In hopes that this message in a bottle finds you in a better world.

In America, it’s a politically divisive time. While it’s worth mentioning that I am a feminist that believes in social justice and equality. I can tell you that the fall out from our politics has divided us sharply. The last big fight for equal rights is happening as we evolve and the disenfranchised voice is becoming louder. Still, it is not fast enough. In my lifetime I went from reading and watching mostly cis, white, heterosexual male stories to seeing America begin to more fully represent its peoples. There are more women in Congress now than there ever was. We have a shot at seeing a female president in my life time.

This is no where near the representation we’d like to see, but it's a start. This movement has unearthed the underbelly of racist, sexist, privileged people who are rising up in opposition. They require sharp education, myself included, at reconciling and acknowledging privilege to undo the hurt of our beginnings. These peoples think they are starting to be “oppressed,’ as they become the minority. But they use that word and don’t understand what it means. It’s a time of reckoning for our countries beginnings. Progress has been too slow for the mistakes we made directly keeping down slaves, indigenous peoples and immigrants that didn’t come from a white European country. Colonization and the effects thereof are everlasting. Even hundreds of years later.

That tension feeds our media. They, the media, stoke the fires into great sweeping rage and dissension for the price of advertising dollars. Social media has allowed one to curate information that suits a point of view. There is no longer debate. Academics are pitted against “common sense.” Pick a side and draw a line in the sand. Choose your battle ground.

This backdrop, is the stage to which this pandemic is played out in America. The division is not helpful when in crisis we need unity. Our Covid numbers continue to rise sharply. American capitalism fails when the lower class can’t or won’t work. So they are putting us back to work, knowing that we will be sacrificing lives.

This truth is sharply debated by many but I believe history will show it to be true. We know this virus will spread easily until we have a vaccine and yet we are sending people back to work with bandaids on gaping wounds. We are scared. We are fighting over why a person should wear a mask. We are uncertain of our futures and we are watching our structures crumble underneath us.

That said, it’s been a hundred years since the last pandemic swept the earth. Our advances have allowed us to work from home and digitally connect. Technology, I have no doubt saves many lives.

I wonder what will save your life in the next hundred years. Studying history, it seems we have a new virus or plague that rotates through the populations within that time. You’d think we would have been better prepared. It will come to light that our government knew this risk was imminent. Perhaps you are writing your report on that very thing. We knew. We did nothing. I wish I could report to you that we prepared all we could but it is not the truth. We chose to ignore that risk and carry on. Our experts have been warning us for years. I live in a time where we question our experts and don’t believe them. All that enlightenment and learning and still, our people fight science.

Granted, planning for every scenario of apocalyptic doom would be impossible. But I believe us to be smart intelligent creatures capable of evolving ourselves and therefore think the greater of us. Most of us were busy building our lives distracted. We elected leaders to prepare and protect society. They did not. While blame is not useful to move forward. I hope that from where you sit, society feels more responsibility for each other. At this time in humanity, our populations are booming. Our “media,” only reports the bad stuff but the truth is we were, up until this point, living in the most peaceful time in human history. You wouldn’t know it by reading one of our newspapers. We haven’t evolved past our fascination with the darker parts of life on this rock. Blood, discord, disaster and fear sell advertising and products.

Even for all our faults, we are making progress as a species. Its a lovely optimism to adopt. But alas, I am also a realist. Our dark sides are ever present at work too.

The pandemic of 2020 has heightened our inequalities. They existed before this, but today they are even more present. In America, we are calling our essential workers “heroes.” In reality, they are only called that because we are sacrificing them to the virus for the “good of society.” Our food producers, housing and healthcare professions are under a great deal of strain.

Our meat production plants are currently struggling to operate as many factories and plants that have been in operation since this began are now having large parts of the population become sick. In America, our poverty stricken populations are often the ones on the front lines serving others and at the highest risk.

I can tell you that I feel powerless to stop this machine but I want to. I’d like to find ways to fight this injustice and demand better for our people. Before all this, I was lobbying for universal healthcare in our country and free college education for everyone. This pandemic has only confirmed the need to work together and provide for one another. Though we fight over what that looks like. I know in our hearts, we want to do better.

I’ve only spoken to three humans in person from a distance, once in 78 days. Everything else is digital. Currently, I have enough budget to have all my essentials delivered. That privilege affords me other luxuries too. I can control who I see and who I don’t. This control is something that I do not take for granted. Though quarantine is hard, I’m not forced to interact with others at the moment. I’ve adapted my work to this new reality and am working at every angle to keep dollars coming in the door.

Even so. Emotionally, we are a mess. It’s a wild ride of feelings from one moment to the next. The quiet safety of our homes lulls us into a dull reality. We limit our news. We limit reading about the virus. It has forced us to live more in the moment and focus on the tasks in front of us rather than too far ahead. With so much uncertainty, that has helped with the stress.

I recite these things to myself to soothe my weary soul: We are smart. We are capable. We have survived this before. We can solve our own issues. We can do better. We will do better. I am smart. I am capable. I have survived hard times. I can solve my own issues. I can do better. I will do better. It is my daily prayer. It doesn’t always help.

I wonder what life is like for others as I stare out my window every day. I miss the outside and bird watch more than I ever have. Digital life is helpful for survival but often feels empty. As excited as I get for interaction, I often close the laptop after a meeting and feel sad. This reality has me questioning everything.

I hope from your position in the future, we figured this out. That my faith is humans has merit. For now, it all feels so uncertain. The numbers are still climbing. While we have people recovering there are many that are suffering terribly.

I don’t understand why our country isn’t in mourning. Perhaps the numbers are too big to fathom. I cry almost every day reading the death tolls. The news hurts. I mourn each addition without knowing them but only for the few seconds I can allow before dusting myself off and getting back to my own work. I worry about the stacking of issues we’ve ignored as climate change heats us up. In a pandemic the natural disasters make life even harder and we are seeing that play out already. Floods, tornados, fires, storms and drought all adding up to challenge our lives. We too chose to ignore them.

I vote for reform on climate change at every chance I get. I’d like you to know that many of us are trying. We also know it’s a problem and that if we don’t invest in the future of our planet, that it will become your problem too. This issue hasn’t hit its match point. Too many people are still worried about day to day living. That keeps us from being able to plan ahead. A theme of our demise.

It’s the privileged who have the time and resources to work on prevention. These are the hearts and minds we need to work on changing. They are the hardest to change. Once a person has more than they need, I think the fear of loosing it forces them to ignore others. At least, that is how I summarize the issue.

Myself, I came from humble roots and spent many of my formative years in poverty. I understand what it means to have nothing. I also have the peace of knowing that even in my poverty, I had happiness. Perhaps this has kept me sane during the pandemic. Knowing I can survive.

As the summer heats us up in America, I worry what lies ahead. We are itching for a release and I fear Covid will spread faster come fall. I write to you in hope. That you are reading this from a place that is safe. Where we survived and we did it with less loss than the previous pandemic.

What follows will be a collection of letters. Stories. Tales from the times. It is all the more important to make sure that the voice of our past is human. In my time, the text books didn’t teach that. We send you this time capsule. Please learn what we didn’t. I trust you will.

#lettersfromthepandemic #pandemic2020 #2020 #2020timecapsule #dearfuturegenerations

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