#man someday i’d love to sit down and hash it out

[a-sketchy]

a persona inspired ttrpg would fuck so hard

#i feel like it’s generally not too complicated to make an rpg into another kind of rpg #p4 style would be especially fun if you let that person control the shadows in their dungeon #i think the setting/mechanics/theming of personas and shadows and half dungeon crawler half social sim is just fun as hell #and i like ttrpgs. though i’ve unfortunately not had much experience playing them #to accommodate a group playing i’d probably make the slink system work more like fe supports #man someday i’d love to sit down and hash it out #rambles

[lubdubsworld]

Better Man. ( Taehyung x Oc)

Rated 18 +

Post Divorce, Getting Back Together, Second chances, Angst. 

Chapter 1

Chapter 2  ~ Its okay to want something to end and also be sad that its ending. 

With infidelity, its never black and white. 

There’s different kinds of infidelity and you can’t ever say which is worse. That depends entirely on the people involved and the values they hold dear. What may be a small indiscretion to someone, may well be an unforgivable act of betrayal to someone else.

 And that’s fine. People aren’t one dimensional. We can’t all have the same perspective. 

So infidelity is also never one dimensional. 

Sometimes its a one night stand. Something done and forgotten. Discarded from the mind like the used condom in the motel room floor. 

Sometimes its a dear friend who betrays you, your best friend who apparently always had a thing for your husband and felt perfectly fine making a move on him. That one stings . Because you lose two people. Two very important people at the same time. 

Sometimes its a coworker, someone who stays by their side majority of the day. Who offers a sympathetic ear when your husband wants to relax.

Sometimes men just fall out of love and are too much of a coward to say it out loud, opting to cheat on you instead. 

Sometimes, they are jealous, of your career, of your kid, or your friends. Too lazy to win your affection they go find satisfaction in some one else’s bed. 

Sometimes it never even gets physical. Sometimes its just someone catfishing your husband or sending him nudes.

And sometimes, its an emotional connection. They actually fall deeply in love with someone else and I think, for most women, that would be the one that would sting the most. 

With Taehyung, it had been a night of drinking. He had had one drink too many, had tumbled into bed with some trainee a decade younger and had broken our marriage vows. 

Not really a very thought out or planned mistake. He hadn’t cheated with the intent to cheat. He had just been too drunk to know better. 

So, why did I leave him?

Because it hadn’t been about the cheating. 

It had been the drinking. 

When we first met, Taehyung couldn’t hold his liquor. Not that it mattered because he didn’t like it all that much. Didn’t mind sipping juice when other’s nursed beers. 

But as he grew older, as he grew more successful, he had started accepting drinks from producers and directors and fellow actors... Because, it was rude not to and Kim Taehyung was nothing if not the personification of politeness. 

 His tolerance hadn’t increased but his drinking had and that was a bad combo. 

:”You need to stop doing this Tae. You can’t just come home black out drunk, every time you have an after party.... You’re going to hurt yourself or god forbid someone else... some day and I’m not going to sit here and wait for you to wreck your entire life over a stupid drink....” 

It was a speech I had made way too many times. The words recycled and reframed, and rearranged to try and give them more  weight , to help him realize how  serious  the issue was. To help him understand that what he was risking, it wasn’t just his reputation. It was his entire career, his  life  if he somehow got behind a wheel someday. 

And Taehyung, who had won a bunch of Daesangs for his acting always convinced me that he understood what I was trying to say. That he understood the magnitude of my words and would heed them the next time. 

So really, what people didn’t understand was that....

That evening, when he stood in front of me and said that he slept with another woman because he got drunk out of his mind, it wasn’t the sleeping with the girl that had bothered me. ( at least not that much. it hurt of course but it wasn’t that strong. it stemmed more from a place of “why didn’t you just ask someone to drive you home, you idiot.”.. rather than, “ how dare you sleep with another woman?”  ) 

It was the got drunk out of my mind thing. 

That was what I ended my marriage over. 

That was it. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The details were hashed out easily and I didn’t particularly protest or change anything. Taehyung suggested an equal division of assets and I quickly disagreed. I wasn’t exactly poor. I worked as the Head of Marketing in a successful conglomerate. I had no use for excessive amounts of money. After some debate we agreed on setting up a trust fund for Hoshi with the money. He could use it after he turned twenty five. 

And then came the next part. 

Compensation for physical / Mental Damage. 

I felt like i was spiraling. 

“None On my side. None.” Taehyung said quickly and I swallowed. 

Ms Lee gave me an encouraging smile. 

“You can be honest Mrs Kim. We’re trying to go for a clean break between the two of you without any resentment carrying over. So its best to be honest. If you feel you need recompense for any emotional distress or abuse Mr. Kim may have put you through, you’re free to tell me. I’ll make sure it goes into record.” 

And this was why I hated the idea of getting divorce. 

That entire dialogue had sounded so...so... terrible. So accusatory and ugly. It wasn’t at all the way I felt about my husband. 

It was just hurt. Plain and simple hurt because he didn’t take me seriously. Because he didn’t think my words were worth listening to. It was hurt laced with fear because he was putting himself in danger with his reckless actions and I wanted him to stop. That’s all it was. 

It was hurt. 

Taehyung had hurt me but it wasn’t emotional distress. It sure as hell hadn’t been abuse.

“None for me either.” I said firmly, honest . 

I glanced at my husband, trying to tell him that I wasn’t just saying it. That it was true. I really didn’t want him to pay me money for what had happened. 

But, Taehyung wouldn’t meet my eyes.  

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Taehyung signed over full custody of Hoshi with a smile. 

“I trust you. “ He said quietly, penning his initials carefully on the document. 

I nodded, feeling a little like drowning.

 We had a very comfortable way of doing things as far as our son was concerned. Taehyung got Hoshi anytime he had time off and also on weekends. 

With a very shifting schedule it was hard for Taehyung to pin down exact dates so we had long decided we would make things easier for each other. He would call me a day or so in advance and i would drop him off at Taehyung’s penthouse or the company. Special days like birthdays were always celebrated in a neutral place with both parties attending. 

Hoshi loved it because it was a pleasant surprise for him, when his dad swooped in out of nowhere and took him off to amusement parks or arcades or swimming. He loved Taehyung . 

So the visitation rights were easy to sketch out. 

It was nothing new but to have it all put down on paper and initialed and notarized....it just felt invasive. Some judge somewhere would read all about how my marriage had crumbled to ashes and would pass judgment on me and that just felt odd. 

 Like airing your dirty laundry. Like letting strangers into your bedroom. 

And the worst part was this :   I felt myself getting upset , anytime Ms. Lee gave the slightest negative connotation to Taehyung’s actions or responsibilities. Anytime she tried to imply that he couldn’t be neglectful as  a father, I wanted to jump right up and defend him. To tell her that he was a better father than the ones who lived 24/7 with their kids and didn’t know a damn thing about them. 

That even as my husband,  he had been so good to me. Had treated me like his best friend, his confidante, his lover. Had never shied away from showing me how much he loved me. Had been the best husband in the whole entire world. 

And I hated myself for it. 

What was wrong with me? 

Why was  I still so fiercely protective of him, I wondered. I hated the idea of him being criticized by anyone for any of it.

 And it made feel like such a hypocrite because if he was so amazing, why on earth were we here??

Why on earth were we getting a divorce if Kim Taehyung was husband and father of the fucking Year?!! 

Was I making a mistake? Had I made a mistake? 

It confused me. These feelings that just refused to go away. I would never act on them because therein lay the path to misery but why were they still there? 

 This desperate clawing urge to make sure he came out of this whole debacle as a good guy. To make sure no one would brand him as a cheater . Because they would. When the divorce went public, they would dig things up and they would know. 

 I didn’t know how I’d gotten to this point where , I could somehow forget everything that was wrong, simply because I wanted to focus on what felt wrong....

Technically I should be happy. 

Taehyung did something unpardonable ( for me, at the time. Now I wasn’t so sure. Now I felt like I could forgive him for it but he hadn’t asked for forgiveness. What he’d asked for was a divorce.  ) and I left him. We were separated . And now finally we were getting a divorce. 

Divorce meant we could finally get out of this no man’s land of uncertainty where we had hung for two whole years and move on, from each other and finally give a label to where we stood. Exes. We were exes. We were done. It was over. 

Hadn’t I just yelled about him about how I liked labels? 

And yet, 

This entire divorce  felt so wrong. So unnecessary.

And in a moment of clarity, as I watched Ms Lee read he whole thing over again for our benefit, I realized why it felt wrong. 

It felt wrong because Taehyung was the one who wanted it. 

Why did Taehyung want it? What had made him want to end it, officially?

Was he seeing someone else? Was he considering seeing someone else? Did he want to start enjoying the single lifestyle again? 

Did he finally take a good long look at our marriage and found nothing worth salvaging anymore? 

My head ached. 

 I couldn’t wait for the whole thing to be over. And yet my heart broke at the thought of it. 

Ms Lee finally gathered up all the documents and gave us a wide smile.

“I wish every client I had was this reasonable. You two are a delight .” she shook her head. “ Should we get a drink to celebrate a day well spent?” 

I opened my mouth to accept when Taehyung said, “  Sure, but it would have to be a juice for me. I don’t drink.” 

I felt my heart take a swoop, nosediving to my knees. 

I stared at him, stunned speechless. 

“Haven’t had a drink in two years Mia. I’m done with that shit.” He said softly.

I swallowed. 

“I didn’t know that.” I felt miserable all of a sudden, the weight of what we had just done pressing down on my heart like a 200 pound stone, 

His gaze held mine.

“There’s a lot you don’t know.” 

We stood staring at each other in silence and Ms. Lee cleared her throat. 

“Uh... I just got a text from my next client. Maybe raincheck on the drinks? “

I nodded , watching her leave. Thank you i wanted to say, but for what?

 For ending my marriage of eight fucking years? 

And how ridiculous that very thought was. ..... She hadn’t ended our marriage,   I had. 

“I have the next two days off.” He said casually. 

“You can pick Hoshi up from my mom’s place. I need to head back to the office.” I muttered, choking a little on tears that had sprung out of nowhere. . 

“Hey.” his fingers closed over my wrists tugging me gently and I let myself get pulled into his arms. I hugged him, feeling my tears soak through the fabric of his shirt. 

“I’m sorry it has to be this way.” I choked out. 

He stroked the back of my head gently.

“Me too. “ He pressed a kiss to my hair and it only made me feel worse.  

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author’s Note : Tae is 35, OC is 32 

#taehyung smut #taehyung fics #taehyung fanfic #taehyung #taehyung fanfics #bts fanfics #bts smut #bts fanfic

[nevertheless-moving]

Suicidal Misunderstanding XI

Part I - - - - - Part II - - - - - Part III - - - - - Part IV - - - - - Part V - - - - - Part VI - - - - - Part VII - - - - - Part VIII - - - - - Part IX - - - - - Part X

Star Wars Time Travel AU #27

Anakin left his first ‘soul healing’ appointment feeling on edge. They hadn’t even discussed anything important! The healer mostly talked at him, giving him rules for future sessions. They had barely touched on the reason he was there, which was both a relief and slightly irritating. ...He was a little uncertain what to do with him time now. 

Obi-Wan hadn’t responded to him at all during his visit that morning, laying motionless in an apparently self-induced coma, and he wasn’t allowed to sit with him again until the evening. He wasn’t allowed to look at anything to do with the war until Mace cleared him. Returning to his and Obi-Wan’s quarter’s was still unthinkable, even though he knew he’d have to go back at some point before Ashoka landed on planet. 

The Chancellor had left him several messages inviting him for a visit, but he was dragging his feet, despite the serious temptation of an always comforting father-figure. The thought of actually seeing the man made him feel practically sick with anger and betrayal. Obi-Wan had been convinced that Palpatine was trying to tear them apart. And while Anakin didn’t quite believe that... he had told Obi-Wan about what he had done after his mother’s death. Maybe someday, when Obi-Wan was better, he would be able to believe it was all for the best, but for now...he was just angry. 

He hadn’t really been angry at the man before, and didn’t enjoy the sensation.

Padme had told him she would be working from home as much as possible the next few days. While he didn’t want to be an annoyance, there wasn’t really anyone else he could turn to for advice or comfort right now, and she seemed almost as desperate for the reassurance of his company as he was of hers...and the Master of the Order seemed to at least tolerate their relationship, even if he didn’t know all the details.

He arrived at her apartment and promptly collapsed on the couch. 

“Is it alright if I join you?” Padme asked softly. 

Anakin smiled at her. “More than alright”

She sat down. He shifted so she could lean against him comfortably.

“Do you want to talk right now, or should I do some paperwork?” she asked neutrally.

He groaned. “It’s- I’m not sure if I’m being immature. Should I go see Palpatine?”

She stiffened. “The Chancellor? I- I thought we had specifically agreed not to talk about him if we could help it. Have his politics started to bother you?” she asked dryly. 

He rolled his eyes. “No, I still believe he’s the best chance for ending the war quickly- you know my friendship with him is personal, not political.”

“This is a personal problem then. Does it...have something to do with Obi-Wan? Are you not supposed to tell him about- what happened?”

“No, I’m sure the council’s already informed him, he is the Chancellor, after all; they would have to tell him if a High General was out of commission,” he replied, a touch bitterly. 

“But it does have something to do with Obi-Wan,” she nudged.

“Yeah. It- he was the one who told Obi-Wan. About me. With the Raiders.” he ground out, suppressing a flash of anger.

“Oh. Oh! I didn’t realize he knew. He- had he urged you to tell Obi-Wan before?” she asked, slightly guilty.

“No!” Anakin snarled back. “He swore to keep it a secret, told me that my revenge was justified.”

“I’m sorry- the Chancellor of the Republic told you that what you did was justified? Padme sounded shocked and Anakin turned to her with wide eyes.

“Do you...you told me you understood...but...we’ve never really talked about it since it happened, have we?” He replied miserably. 

She pulled away, heart pounding. “Anakin...do you think what you did was justified?”

He looked down “At the time I told myself it was...but I don’t know. Even right after...I thought about the kids. You have no idea how much clearer everything seems when your channeling the force with anger even though afterwards...I told myself they were animals but...I...when I was talking to Obi-Wan I realized that...I think I was just scared that if the order ever found out I’d lose everything which made me angry...And the Chancellor agreed that animals sometimes needed to be put down...and you said you understood.” He looked up at her uncertain.

She let out a sigh of relief. Of course Anakin knew his action’s were wrong, if he was so torn up about it. She took his hands in hers, stroking softly. 

“Anakin...I know it’s not exactly the same, but I do understand wanting revenge. I helped personally liberate and clean up many of the trade federation camps. I buried the rotting corpses of my people, who I left to die- then returned back to my office to watch Nate Gunray get out on parole. If someone had handed me the power to kill every single Neimodian at the right moment-” She let out a breath, seething.

“But...no one did. I couldn’t have gotten revenge like that, even if I had wanted to. And now...gods Anakin, understanding why isn’t the same as saying it’s justified- I might still hate the trade federation, but that doesn’t mean that every Neimoidian is guilt of their crime, no matter my personal feelings. I really, truly don’t know what to say about the Chancellor telling you what he did, or keeping your secret, or breaking your trust.”

They sat in silence for a moment as he digested everything.

“I...think I get what you mean about separating out justifying and understanding. Maybe that’s what he meant, and I just wasn’t smart enough to realize what he was saying at the time. I want to ask him, but I’m still mad and... I just don’t want to lose my friend because I’m angry.” he finished unhappily.

She sighed, then pressed a delicate kiss to his cheek. 

“Then tell him that. Leave him a message. A friend would understand holding off a conversation while you’re upset. And a politician should certainly understand holding back your feelings so they don’t dictate your actions.” 

He smiled at her, “How did you get so wise?”

“I was a Queen, you know,” she replied haughtily.

“Oh a Queen, I hadn’t realized, do forgive my impertinence,” he said cheekily, pulling her closer. 

She pushed him back. “Message first. He’s almost certainly in a Senate committee meeting right now, it’s the perfect time.”

He relented. They briefly hashed out what he was going to say. Then she drifted to the other room while he pulled out his mobile official senatorial comm-link, biting his lip nervously.

Much to his dismay, the Chancellor picked up on the last ring, holo opening up.

“Anakin, my boy! So good to hear from you; I had been getting worried. How are you?

Steeling himself, Anakin launched into their prepared monologue.

“Chancellor, you of all people know that I struggle with anger; I’m trying to work on not allowing it to dictate how I act towards those I value. That being said, in the interest of preserving our friendship and until Obi-Wan is fully healed, I think it’s best we avoid unnecessary communications.”

“Anakin! I don’t-” Palpatine tried to reply, but Anakin cut him off.

“Thank you again for your understanding. I will of course diligently reply to any military or professional requests sent through the proper channels.”

Anakin closed the connection with a click, heart pounding. The comm immediately lit back-up.

“What do I do?” he asked Padme, feeling nauseous.

Was this the right choice? Surely his friend would understand. He didn’t want to yell at the Chancellor just because he was still working through Obi-Wan’s issues and his issues with Obi-Wan! Or was he just acting out of fear? Maybe the Chancellor could help.

He started to reach for the comm, but Padme snatched it from the table first. She threw it to the ground, delicately lifted the hem of her dress, then pierced it with the heel of her shoe. It stopped mid trill.

“Let’s go to bed.”

“I love you.” He replied, looking at her adoringly. 

“I know.”

Next (Part XII)

#star wars #my au #suicidal misunderstanding au #star wars au no 27 #anidala #star wars au #TALK #ABOUT #YOUR #THOUGHTS #AND #FEELINGS #YOU #KRIFFING #IDIOTS #YES #YOU TOO #PADME

[moral-turpitudes]

Golden Ring: Part 2

Trigger Warnings: Angst, Fighting, Swearing, Fluff, Gore, Smoking, Drinking, etc.

Word Count: 1,833

Characters: Thomas Shelby x Reader

Requested by: @captivatedbycillianmurphy​  (thank you!)

Summary: When the Shelby’s are on business, there’s no such thing as rest, not even for Y/N.

A/N: Totally had “Ain’t No Rest for the Wicked” by Cage The Elephant stuck in my head while writing this. (Also fun fact: they’re from the city I went to college in and they did a free show on campus once which was lit).

Part 1 | Part 2

Tommy drove through the late-night fog and along the dark roads that led to their warehouse, the wheels creeping by ever so slightly on the dirt covered streets. The gears shifted as he put the car in park and got out, and walked towards the old building.

He pulled out a cigarette and rubbed it against his lips as he walked further into the darkness, the only light coming from what he assumed were his brothers cigarettes in the distance.

“Aye, who the fuck are you?” One of the men asked, who was most definitely not his brother.

“I could ask you the same question. Why are you on my property?” Tommy asked, the light from a cracked window seeping in, illuminating the two men’s faces.

“Well if it isn’t Mr. Thomas Shelby. We’re here to take your stock. The weapons. The drugs...What are you going to do? Call your brothers? Make your whore of a mother appear out of thin air or something?” He asked.

Tommy sighed, straightened his coat, and took his hat off nonchalantly, flipping it around in his hand as he looked down at it, before landing a hard punch to the mans jaw.

His other friend quickly took off towards the door with two bags full of cocaine.

“I wouldn’t run if I were you mate. You won’t get far.” Arthur said blocking the door with John next to him holding a shotgun.

Tommy then grabbed his cap tightly and pulled his hand back, sending the razor blade straight towards the mans eye. He slashed open one of them to where he’d be barely be able to see out of it, and the other he cut out completely, leaving the man screaming bloody murder as he walked towards his brothers.

“Where are the other men aye?” He asked grabbing the man by his collar.

“By the cut, I heard them fighting so I stayed here with him.” He said pointing to his partner bleeding out on the ground.

“They aren’t there anymore, you little London boy. You don’t mess with the peaky fookin’ blinders and live to tell about it.” Arthur said inching closer to the young man.

He was shaking as he realized he was the only one of his gang left, his boss surely plotting his death the longer he stayed in Small Heath.

“I’ll give you one minute to run out of here, because I don’t think you’re worth killing just yet. You tell your boss that if he wants to do business he’ll come to me directly, or I’ll have to come to him, and he won’t want that.” Tommy said menacingly as he held the young man by his collar.

“Al-alright. I will, can you let me go?” He asked.

Tommy held him there for a couple moments just to watch him struggle before letting him go. The young man dropped to the ground and ran straight out, leaving his friend and other deceased gang members behind.

“Now, what did you lot do with the others? I’m not digging any graves tonight.” He asked, his eyes landing on John.

“Well Arthur beat two of them to a pulp. I told ya he would go feral.” John said giving a sideways glance at Arthur.

Arthur smacked him in the back of the head before he continued.

“Well John-boy shot one in the head, the other is drifting down the cut with 3 bullet holes in his chest. Do we have to fookin’ retrieve them now Tommy?” Arthur asked.

“If you don’t want the coppers to get on us again, then yes. I’d imagine it would frighten the women and children walking past the cut as well, we don’t want that.” Tommy said before heading towards the door.

He looked down at his golden ring before looking back at his brothers who angrily spoke up.

“You’re just gonna leave us here to do the dirty work then aye Tommy?” John yelled.

“I have some things to do. You’ve both buried worse, just make their graves deeper this time.” He said before looking at his pocket watch.

“It’s Y/N again isn’t it Tommy? Bastard can’t even handle a murder job without wanting to run home to his spouse!” Arthur said, chuckling as John smirked.

“You’ll understand someday Arthur. Just get to work or I’ll make sure you’re both buried with that gang of fools instead of buried in company work tomorrow.” Tommy said before stepping outside and lighting another cigarette before heading home.

Back at home, the sun was shining brightly through the bedroom window with you laying in it’s rays, the sun warm on your skin as you draped yourself across the sheets as sleep eluded you still.

Your eyes were tired, with dark circles starting to form as the thoughts danced around in your head at where your husband could be. It had been 3 hours since he’d left, not that time meant much when he was away, it always seemed to blur until he came home.

As you stared at the old stone fireplace, you could hear the door cracking open downstairs as familiar footsteps heavily echoed through the hall and up to the bedroom.

He cracked the door open as light as he could, not wanting to disturb you if you were asleep, but you moved so you were facing him as he entered the room, meeting his tired eyes and blood stained hands and face. His clothes weren’t much better off, knowing that would be a pain to wash out.

“You haven’t slept...” He said taking his cap off and looking at you. He undid his dress shirt and took of the suspenders that clanked as he set them down on the table.

“I told you I probably wouldn’t be able to, you know that my love.” You said as you curled up on the sofa, the robe around you shifting with your movements.

“What can I do to help ya then aye? I can’t have you passing out at work.” He said coming over to sit on the floor next to you.

You lazily ran your hand through his hair as he leaned into your touch. The blood from earlier still glinting off his face in the sunlight.

“Well you could go take a shower, you’ve become so used to being covered in blood you forget it’s all over your face.” You said giggling slightly, he smiled and you felt him laugh a bit as you dropped your hand to his shoulder, massaging it lightly.

“You’re right about that, do you want to join?” He asked, looking over to you as he smirked.

“Only after you’ve washed the blood off, and on one condition.” You said.

“And what is that?” He asked.

“You lay with me for a while since you’ve been gone more often than not this week...that might help me sleep, at least until we have to get to work.” You said.

He smiled and nodded in agreement before getting up to rid himself of last nights business. You reluctantly getting up from the comfort of the sofa to join him in the steaming shower not soon after.

Showers always made everything better in a sense, so after it, you had no trouble falling asleep in Tommy’s arms.

You awoke later to the sun shining even brighter than before, signaling the afternoon, and you felt his warm arms still holding you as you lifted your head up slightly to look at him. He looked peaceful when he slept, or at least when he slept near you. Other times he’d be wide awake as the sounds of shovels and the muddy tunnels plagued his mind.

You carefully got up to not wake him and looked at the clock on the wall, lightly ticking in the distance and your eyes growing wide at the realization.

“My god...oh no...not again!” You said hurriedly.

“Thomas wake up! Thomas!” You said shaking his shoulder lightly.

His eyes shot open and he sat up immediately, looking around the room for any danger.

“What is it Y/N?” He said groggily and calming down as he saw you frantically getting ready.

“We overslept! Polly’s gonna kill us! We can’t be late to another meeting...you know this.” You said scurrying into the bathroom as you heard Tommy swearing under his breath.

He walked in as you were doing your hair quickly and putting in minimal effort to look presentable. Tommy was shirtless and standing behind you brushing his teeth, with his pants and belt undone as he’d hurriedly thrown a new pair on.

“You can finish getting ready and I’ll wait in the car.” You said moving out of his way and slipping your shoes on and grabbing your coat.

That was always the one little thing he loved about you, as you would always get ready quickly which often came in handy when he’d steal you away before other meetings or parties, and you still looked remarkable even if you put in minimal effort.

Not long after you started the car, he was bounding out the door and climbing into the drivers side, giving you a quick peck on the lips before speeding off towards the shop.

You looked at the watch Tommy had gifted you a while back, it reading 12:30pm as you both headed towards the familiar streets. People looked on as Tommy sped slightly through the streets earning some concerned glances.

With a lurching stop, Tommy parked the car and help you out, letting you inside the shop first as he followed.

“Y/N...Thomas...nice of you to join us.” Polly said smirking at you both as you walked in to the packed meeting room.

Tommy shook his head as he gave your hand a reassuring squeeze before sitting down and lifting a cigarette to his lips, wincing as Polly loudly re-hashed some of the news and plans involving the business.

“Tom, the London boys boss is wanting to meet you. Your message was delivered.” Michael said, eyeing him as he lit his own cigarette.

“When will he be here? 3 in the morning?” He asked, yawning on cue as you smirked, remembering the annoying events of last night.

“Actually yeah...What? That’s what he said...” Michael said confused.

You and Tommy shared a knowing look, as he rolled his eyes back to his brother.

“Alright...tell him it’s doing me a disservice but I’ll meet him...with backup of course.” He said looking to John and Arthur, they seemed just as tired, and still wearing their clothes from last night.

“For fucks sake. As long as you bury him this time Tom.” John said.

Tommy smirked in response, turning his gaze to you as you lazily rested your head on your arm, Polly glaring at you until you straightened up.

As much as you loved your husband, it was a known fact in the Shelby family that the wicked never rested. So you sighed as you accepted your fate, knowing sleep would elude you once again until business was done.

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[themackenzies]

Thoughts on Outlander 5.05 - ‘Perpetual Adoration’

Time is a lot of the things people say that God is. There’s the always preexisting, and having no end. There’s the notion of being all powerful—because nothing can stand against time, can it? Not mountains, not armies. And time is, of course, all-healing. Give anything enough time, and everything is taken care of: all pain encompassed, all hardship erased, all loss subsumed. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. Remember, man, that thou art dust; and unto dust thou shalt return. And if Time is anything akin to God, I suppose that Memory must be the Devil. — Prologue, A Breath of Snow and Ashes

Wow, I loved this episode, and for the first time this season I’m excited to sit down and write about Outlander.  The 1960′s flashbacks, Roger and Bree hashing things out, adorable Adso (I am a dog person, but geez that’s a cute kitten)...this episode felt nostalgic, and good, and right.  Material from the books was adapted really well and didn’t feel shoehorned in.  To be honest, after last week’s ‘The Company We Keep’, I was considering abandoning the show because I was so disappointed by the writing and characterization of Roger.  But, after Episode 5?  I’m excited to see the rest of the season!

There’s a lot to unpack from this episode, so I won’t touch on everything, or this will get too long, but here are my thoughts.

Since the title card for this episode is taken from the flashbacks, I’ll start my episode review by talking about Claire, Joe, and Bree in the 1960′s.  Claire’s voice over of the prologue from A Breath of Snow and Ashes gave me goosebumps, as did Bree’s line, “Man, I guess you never really know what’s coming, do you?”

It’s so great seeing Joe again, even though it makes me sad that we never got to see Roger or adult Bree interact with him on the show.  I smiled at the reference to the romance novel The Impetuous Pirate from Voyager.

The lounge wasn’t empty. Joseph Abernathy sat in one of the rump-sprung stuffed chairs, apparently absorbed in a copy of U.S. News & World Report. He looked up as I entered, and nodded briefly to me before returning to his reading. The lounge was equipped with stacks of magazines— salvaged from the waiting rooms— and a number of tattered paperbacks, abandoned by departing patients. Seeking distraction, I thumbed past a six-month-old copy of Studies in Gastroenterology, a ragged copy of Time magazine, and a neat stack of Watchtower tracts. Finally picking up one of the books, I sat down with it. It had no cover, but the title page read The Impetuous Pirate. “A sensuous, compelling love story, boundless as the Spanish Main!” said the line beneath the title. The Spanish Main, eh? If escape was what I wanted, I couldn’t do much better, I thought, and opened the book at random. — Chapter 18, Voyager

The 60′s costumes, sets, and hair were on point.  Man, I really miss the 60′s-70′s stuff (and wish there had been more of Roger and Bree in that time in Season 4 - flashes back and forth like they did with Claire and Jamie in Season 3 would have been awesome).  I also liked how the flashbacks connected with the 1700′s story lines.  It wasn’t until I rewatched that I even really listened to and absorbed Claire’s voice over throughout the episode about God and the spiderweb:

“I wonder, is time God’s eternal web, silk strands stretching through time, the mildest touch setting off vibrations that echo through the eons? ... Is God the spider, embracing us through our death and resurrection, or is he simply the spinner of the web, watching as the silk shimmers and vibrates through the cosmos, awakening the real spiders, the ones lurking deep within the recesses of our own natures? ... God the infinite, God the merciful, God the eternal.  Someday, I will stand before God and I will receive answers to all my questions about everything in his universe, and I do have many questions.  But I won’t ask about the nature of time. I’ve lived it.”

There was something about the spiderweb metaphor that sounded really familiar, but I couldn’t recall if it was taken from any of the books or not.  So, I did a search for “spiderweb” in The Fiery Cross, and found a couple of passages that I’m still mulling over.  There’s this bit from Chapter 37:

“Brianna. What do you want? Do you want Stephen Bonnet dead?” She glanced at me, then away, looking out the window while she patted Jemmy’s back. She didn’t blink. Finally, her eyes closed briefly, then opened to meet mine. “I can’t,” she said, low-voiced. “I’m afraid if I ever let that thought in my mind … I’d never be able to think about anything else, I’d want it so much. And I will be damned if I’ll let … him … ruin my life that way.” Jemmy gave a resounding belch, and spit up a little milk. Bree had an old linen towel across her shoulder, and deftly wiped his chin with it. Calmer now, he had lost his look of vexed incomprehension, and was concentrating intently on something over his mother’s shoulder. Following the direction of his clear blue gaze, I saw the shadow of a spiderweb, high up in the corner of the window. A gust of wind shook the window frame, and a tiny spot moved in the center of the web, very slightly. “Yeah,” Brianna said, very softly. “I do want him dead. But I want Da and Roger alive, more.”

And also this bit from Chapter 73:

She had begun to realize, listening to the talk in the Sherstons’ parlor over the last few weeks, that the Colony was a vast spiderweb. There were innumerable strands of commerce along which a few large spiders—and a number of smaller ones—made their delicate way, always listening for the faint hum of distress made by a fly that had blundered in, always testing for a thinning strand, a broken link. The smaller entities glided warily along the margins of the web, with an eye out always for the movements of the bigger ones—for spiders were cannibals—and so, she thought, were ambitious men. Her father’s position was prominent—but by no means so secure as to resist the undermining effects of gossip and suspicion. She and Roger had talked about it before, privately, speculating; the fracture-lines were already there, plain enough to someone who knew what was coming; the strains and tensions that would deepen into sudden chasm—one deep enough to sunder the colonies from England. Let the strain grow too great, too quickly, let the strands between Fraser’s Ridge and the rest of the Colony fray too far … and they might snap, wrapping sticky ends in a thick cocoon round her family and leaving them suspended by a thread—alone, and prey to those who would suck their blood.  

Back on Fraser’s Ridge...

That pillow talk scene between Roger and Bree is the best romantic chemistry I’ve seen between them this season (yes, even better than their wedding).  Sophie and Richard acted their scenes, most of which were adapted from Chapter 6 of The Fiery Cross, extremely well.

She was an only child, as he was; she knew the yearning for connection and closeness—but hers had been gratified. She had had not one loving father but two. A mother who had loved her beyond the bounds of space and time. The Murrays of Lallybroch, that unexpected gift of family. And most of all, her son, her flesh, her blood, a small and trusting weight that anchored her firmly to the universe. But Roger was an orphan, alone in the world for such a long time. His parents gone before he knew them, his old uncle dead—he had no one to claim him, no one to love him for the sake only of his flesh and bone—no one save her. Little wonder if he hungered for the certainty she held in her arms when she nursed her child.

My one complaint is that I wish Bree hadn’t stayed silent after Roger asked, about Jemmy’s paternity, "In your heart, what do you truly believe?”  That discussion was very heartbreaking.

Thankfully, Roger returns to Bree in the morning, apologetic, after his heart to heart with Claire.  

“Oh I wish I had a bit of a husband’s intuition.”  “You haven’t been married very long. Intuition comes with listening and time.”  “I have time in spades.” [...] “Roger, don’t be careless with the time you have together.”

Perhaps Roger is remembering what he told Jocasta in Episode 1: “I may not have any property or money, but I have time.  And I will give it all to Brianna and Jeremiah.”  

Everything comes full circle at the end of the episode when Jamie returns home, and Claire shares what’s on her mind:

“Do you know what I finally realized after all these years? Just how much I owe him. His death had a profound effect on me, so much so that I took a leave of absence from work, and went to London with Brianna, and that was where I learned of Reverend Wakefield’s passing.  Had we not attended that funeral, we would never have crossed paths with Roger or...or found you.”  

A few final, stray thoughts:

I know the priest’s line, “No one’s lost who’s not forgotten” is about Claire remembering Jamie...but, Stephen Bonnet haunting Brianna is what popped into my mind.  Brianna has forgiven Bonnet, but hasn’t forgotten him.

Lizzie being present during Kezzie’s surgery and blushing/smiling when he had to drop his britches was funny and cute.  They’re clearly laying groundwork for Season 6 (or maybe Season 5?).

I love the sunshine and verdant trees in this episode.  It was pretty and refreshing.

Even though I loved Roger in this episode, I haven’t forgotten how poorly he was written in the first 4 episodes and in ‘The Company We Keep’ in particular.  I’ll leave that rant for another post, though.

I’m still puzzled by Roger and (maybe?) Bree wanting to back through the stones.  On thelitforum.com, Diana said something about the writers, in the first episode, establishing that Bree promised Roger they would go back.  But, if Bree made a promise like that, we haven’t heard about it on screen.  I don’t understand why that would be cut, because it’s important context to have.

I don’t really have anything to say about Jamie in this episode.  I’m bored by the Regulator story line, and am anxious for us to get to Alamance, so all of that can finally be put to bed.  

Based on the preview for Episode 6...it looks like Jamie and Claire will be going to Jocasta’s wedding by themselves, while Roger and Bree stay on the Ridge.  Interesting.

Roger’s scruff was perfect.  Crossing my fingers he stops shaving for the remainder of the season.

“Women will do anything for trinkets, coins, jewels. Anything at all.  They’re yours for a pretty penny, or a diamond, or a ring.”  “My lass is more concerned with words and deeds.”  Bonnet makes me want to vomit, but I loved Roger’s response about pragmatic Bree.

I love how naturally God and religion are being woven into this season.  It makes me wish the show runners had the guts to do it in earlier seasons.

#outlander #perpetual adoration #episode review #season 5 #show talk

[firelord-frowny]

wrote out some catharsis instead of going to sleep. 

Under the cut is a bit of fiction following characters I’ve had with me for years. You may notice that tenses are inconsistent - this is intentional. You may also notice repetition in places that seem strange. Think of it as a journal entry. Think of it as stream-of-consciousness. If you’re curious enough to read, a helpful bit of background: 1) Madison has been AWOL for about three years and has just recently turned up again. 2) Nixon is Madison’s best friend and also his It’s-Complicated On-Again-Off-Again lover. 3) Steven is a mutual friend of theirs.

I’ve always been a little bit scared of Steven. 

I mean, I love him. Of course. Deeply. I always have. But I’ve also always been scared of him. Not the kind of fear that makes you want to run away, but the kind that makes you want to hide.  And it’s that plain-sight kind of hiding. Maybe if I just don’t say anything, he won’t notice me. Maybe if I stay very still, I can avoid revealing to this extraordinary human being what an absolute dingus I really am. It’s not “scared” like I think he’ll hurt me. I know he’d never hurt me. It’s “scared” like I don’t know what to do with myself around him. Like I can’t read him, but I know he’s reading me,  and I know he’s seeing through all the bullshit I can usually fool other people with. All my life I’ve been so used to always feeling like the smartest person in the room. But that was never true whenever Steven was around. 

Out of everyone, I’ve spent the least amount of time alone with him. And when I have spoken one-on-one with Steven, it’s always been because he wanted to sit me down and lecture me about something Serious. Like when he told me in the back of Julius’s car that my father was going to beat me someday (he was right about that). Or the time on the metro train when he told me I’d regret not being kinder to my mother after she died (he was right about that, too). 

So when I heard Steven’s voice this morning, that same fear started growing inside me like ice crystals. Like little freezing daggers stabbing into my cells and making me feel cold. 

His voice this time wasn’t distorted by speakers. He was here. And I could hear Nix saying to him, “He doesn’t need to know.” 

Steven said, “I’m telling him.” 

Nix said, “It’s not his business. It’s not even relevant. I mean, not anymore.” 

I rolled out of bed. Paused to make sure my junk wasn’t hanging out of the robe Nixon gave me, and it wasn’t. Then I went to go open the door into the hall. 

Nixon was in the kitchen wearing scrubs. Those must be his work clothes. I remember when “work clothes” for Nixon was black slacks, a buttondown, and a Red Lobster nametag. He was putting dishes away - real, porcelain ones. Not plastic or paper like the ones we used to have. 

Steven was sitting at the bar table on a stool. His hair is gone. He always said he’d never cut it. I wonder what made him cut it. His dreads, I mean, his locs, were probably like three and a half feet long last time I saw him. 

They both turned to look at me. I thought I should say ‘good to see you, Steven,’ or ‘woah, what are you doing here, Steven,’ or ‘where’d your hair go, Steven,’ But what I said was, “...You’re gonna tell me what?” 

And instead of answering, Steven stood up and said, “Put some clothes on. I’m gonna take you out for some food.” 

I shook my head. “I, uh, I don’t wanna eat, I’ll-”

“Puke. Withdrawal. I know. Put some clothes on.” 

I looked at Nix. Nix shrugged and looked away. 

I told Steven, “I don’t have anything clean to wear.” 

Then Nix said, without looking at me, “In the closet at the back. Your stuff is there.” I watched Steven’s face as Nix said this, and I’m damn sure I saw him shake his head and roll his eyes. 

“You kept my stuff?” 

Another shrug from Nixon. “You were gonna need it if you ever came back.” 

Steven said again, “Get dressed.” 

***

My clothes didn’t quite fit anymore. I’m thinner now than I’ve probably ever been in my life. I mean, I was never fat, and I was never bulky, but I was always strong. The only part of the genetic lottery that played out in my favor was my natural inclination to be slightly more fit than not-fit. But even just a few months of treating yourself like garbage can whittle you down to nothing. So I grabbed the skinniest skinny jeans I owned. And I never wore belts, so I had to nab one of Nixon’s, and well, it was big on me, obviously, but I just tried to get it as tight as I could, which looked fucking ridiculous, really, but it was alright because then I threw on a hoodie that almost went down to my knees anyway. 

I didn’t say anything to Steven on the way down to his car. (The last time I was home, Franky and Julius were still the only ones among us who had cars). I’ve always worried that Steven thinks I hate him, given that I never really initiate conversation with him. But I don’t hate him. I’m just scared, like I said. 

The plates on the car were from out-of-state. I finally asked, just as we got in and he pulled out of the space, “Arizona?” 

He explained, “It’s an airport rental.” 

“Airport?”  

“I was in Houston.” 

“Houston… Texas? For what, like, a trip?” 

He shook his head. “I live there.” 

He drove along and I just looked at him like he was a fucking stranger. Then he said, “You missed a lot.” 

I asked him, “Why… why’d you move to Texas? I thought you hated Texas.” Truthfully, the only instance I can remember where Steven ever mentioned Texas at all was in high school when we were talking about that one Spongebob episode.  

He said, “That’s where most of the astronaut training stuff is at.” 

I felt my eyebrows raise. “You’re gonna be an astronaut?” 

He nodded. “I mean, if I don’t fail the exams.” 

Nix is a therapist at a rehab clinic and Steven is becoming an astronaut and I’m a washed-up junkie with nothing to his name besides a dropped felony charge, three misdemeanors, and an outstanding jaywalking ticket. I wasn’t even jaywalking. The light was broken and the cop had a quota to meet. I wasn’t even jaywalking. I’m not paying that fucking ticket. 

I finally said, “That’s like… your literal dream come true. That’s… amazing. Congratulations.” 

But he was terse and decidedly Not Gentle when he said, “I ain’t even there yet. Don’t congratulate me.” 

Steven scares me. I don’t know why he does what he does or says what he says. I can’t read him. I think he’s pissed at me but I also think if I told him I think he’s pissed at me, he’d tell me to get over myself.

I asked after a while, “...If you’re living in Texas now, what are you doing here?” 

“I’m here to see you.” 

My palms began to sweat. That feeling in my chest, that vibrating, that resonance that made me want to poison myself rang around inside me. 

“Why?” 

He pulled into the parking lot of a Waffle House. Steven loves waffles. I hate them. Pancakes, too. Syrup makes me sick. Steven got out of the car and I asked again, a little louder, maybe starting to panic, “Why?” 

He just said, “Come on.” 

I wanted a corner booth. I mean, if I was gonna be dragged to a restaurant against my will I wanted to at least be able to have a wall at my back and to one side of me. Safe. Small. Secure. But Steven asked for a table almost dead centered in the restaurant. I think he did this on purpose. I looked up at him, trying to give him that Look that I used to give my friends when something was too much for me, and then one of them, usually Nixon but also sometimes Franky or Steven, would give me some kind of excuse to leave without making anything awkward. And I know, I know Steven knows that look, and he looked down at me and I know he saw it, but he just… ignored me. 

I’m really scared of him. 

He sat, and so then I sat, but only because I had already stood there for long enough that someone glanced at me, clearly wondering why the hell I hadn’t sat down yet. A waitress came and took our orders. Steven ordered waffles and hash browns. I just shook my head and said “I’m not hungry.” But Steven interrupted and said, “Bring him some strawberries.” 

I do like strawberries.

He finally said, “You’ve figured out by now why I take you out in public to talk to you, right?” 

I just frowned. Confused. Annoyed. And honestly, the fucking fluorescent lights were giving me a headache. 

Steven said, “You’re a lot nicer in public. You don’t blow up. You don’t have meltdowns. Nah, you save those for when you’re just with us. And I know, I know, I’m sure your lil meltdowns are real or whatever, but it’s damn convenient that you can always manage to keep it together when strangers are watching.” 

I can never tell if Steven is trying to upset me. I think if I told him I thought he was trying to upset me, he’d tell me to get over myself. 

I told him, “I don’t know what you’re trying to say.” 

And he said, “Then quit trying to figure me out and just shut up and listen.” 

I think he’s trying to upset me. But I did shut up and listen. He said, “I don’t know what all you thought would happen when you just up and left like you did. And I know, you’re gonna say it ‘wasn’t about us,’ but like, no fuckin’ duh, bro. Because if it had been about us, you wouldn’t have picked your shit up and disappeared like that. But you did. And Franky, Franky started cutting himself again, like a damn teenager… Eli couldn’t hardly think straight. Me, I felt sick to my stomach worrying about you, and I mean sick, Midge. I mean I’m sitting at home tryna study thermodynamics and I cannot get the bile to quit rising in my throat, not knowing if you’re dead or alive out there.” 

For a long time I told myself that this was exactly what I stayed high to avoid thinking about. But I don’t know how I got myself to believe that lie, considering it wouldn’t have been a fucking issue if I had just stayed home. 

I clenched my jaw. Under the table I dug my nails into my elbows. I asked, with the monotonous inflection of a statement, “Why are you telling me any of this.” 

“You mean you don’t want to know?” Steven laughed. Steven laughed. 

“Honestly, man, I really just wanna get out of here.”  

“Yeah, I know you do. And, you know, if Nix had his way, I wouldn’t be talking to you right now. Because I’m gonna tell you what he doesn’t want you to know. And it’s gonna fuck you up, and I’m glad about that.” 

I covered my face with my hands. I bit my tongue. Out of my throat I managed to squeeze out the words, “Steven, what do you want?” 

Then he said, like it was a bomb he’d been holding over my head, “Six months after you left, Nixon drank himself into a coma.” 

My hands dropped from my face and my eyes got hot and my chest got tight and I felt myself say, “What?” But I didn’t hear it.

“And, well, he lived alone at that point, ‘cause you were gone… Franky offered to have him come move in with him… Julius offered… I offered… hell, all of us offered… but he wouldn’t do it. Said he was gonna stay where he was so he’d be there when you got back. But you ain’t come back. And he was alone. So he did what he does, and he drank like a fuckin fish, drank until he almost died, and then he laid there for… well, he doesn’t know how long, of course, but the doc thought it must have been a whole day or two… and, you know, thank God it was the first of the month, so the landlord came knocking when the rent didn’t get paid, and well, that’s the reason your so-called ‘best friend’ ain’t dead right now.” 

I was shaking. All of me, I think, but mostly my hands, and my mouth. And I could feel how wide my eyes were, and how they stung and burned, and the wetness welling up and brimming. And I tried to stay still, so still that maybe he wouldn’t see me. Maybe Steven is a fucking velociraptor and if I just don’t move, I’ll survive this.

“So, the landlord calls 911… the hospital calls Julius… Julius calls us. I tried to call you. You ain’t answer, obviously.” He rolled his eyes. “We spend the next few nights like a damn vigil in a hospital waiting room… they’re telling us he could have brain damage… they’re telling us to expect ‘deficits’ if he wakes up… ‘if.’ If. Because that wasn’t a guarantee.”

My cheeks began to itch - tears sliding down. Tears that I didn’t move to wipe away, because remember, I had to stay still. 

“So Jules finally called their mom… and gotdammit, Red, you know I ain’t a fuckin crybaby, but when you hear your best friend, your best friend since y’all was in playin’ in sandboxes, on the phone with his mamma telling her that her other son might die…” Steven’s voice cracked. I can’t remember ever hearing Steven’s voice crack. “That shit’ll fuck a nigga up.” 

I felt myself ask him to stop. 

He didn’t. 

“So then Mrs. Johannsen shows up, and you know she always hated all of us. And now we almost couldn’t even blame her… this shit all happened because of you, and you’re one of us, so of course she kicks us out… of course she makes a scene, screaming, carrying on. And then we didn’t even get to see him unless Julius snuck us in. A week and a half of us camping out in the parking lot, waiting for the text from Jules that it was safe to come back up… but damn, we’re grown ass men. We got jobs. We got bills. We got shit to study for. Marco’s going to culinary school worrying about whether Nix is gonna die. Eli’s tattooing tramp stamps worrying about whether Nix is gonna die. Die over something so fucking stupid. Die because he thought life without you was just that bad.” 

I’m not that important. I can’t be. I don’t even weigh enough to be that important. 

“But, you know, by some miracle… by some gotdamn gift from on high, he wakes up.” Steven took a breath. Closed his eyes. Exhaled. “He wakes up, and he talks. He talks!” His voice shook. Today is a day where Steven’s voice has both cracked and shook. “And that was a big deal because the neurologist said he didn’t know if Nix would be able to talk. But he could, and he did. And the nurses asked us if we know anything about his ‘medicine.’ Nixon’s ‘medicine.’ They said he kept trying to ask about his ‘medicine.’” 

I finally had to move. Finally had to drag the cuffs of my sleeves over my face and wipe my eyes. 

Steven leaned forward a little. He looked right at me and I think that was the first time I ever noticed that Steven never really did that. He never really looked at me. He glanced at me sometimes, but he didn’t look. But this, this was looking. And I hated it. 

He said through his teeth, “But he wasn’t asking about ‘medicine,’ Madison.” That was the first time I could remember him calling me by my real name. I hated that, too. “What do you think he was asking about?” 

I had been doing such a damn good job at the silence and the stillness. But not now. Grief and guilt grabbed me like a puppet and shook me. Shook my shoulders. Pressed the breath out of my lungs in a sob - one that I’m sure anyone in the damn Waffle House was able to hear. And my hands went back to my face and my body curled over and there wasn’t anything I could do, there wasn’t any muscle I still had enough control over to stop myself from coming apart. 

I’m a monster, I’m a monster, a gremlin, a troll, a gargoyle, I’m every hideous thing I’ve ever been called. And I always thought it was because people hated how I looked, and I mean, that made sense, because I hate how I look, too. But maybe they were talking about my insides. Maybe all this time people have been able to see right through me and see all the ugly. 

And now all that hideousness was weeping in a Waffle House. Just imagine - though I guess I don’t really need to imagine - all the fuckups somebody has to make in their life to wind up weeping in a Waffle House at 12:30 in the afternoon. 

And Steven, well, Steven didn’t give a damn. He said what he was gonna tell me was gonna fuck me up, and that he’d be glad about it. And he was glad. I hid myself as best as I could… my face down against the table, my arms wrapped around my head… but I could still feel him looking. And I felt him lean closer, and he said, “But the funny thing is, Red… look at what he’s done without you. Look at his life. Beautiful, right?” 

I’ve only been back in Nixon’s life for maybe thirteen hours, but yeah, it does seem beautiful. 

Steven said, “He got better. He focused. And for the first time since the two of you even met, he’s been making decisions without having to think about you. And now he’s got a career. Living in a safe neighborhood. He’s got himself a girlfriend.” A girlfriend? “Her name’s Yoanna. She’s a holistic aromatherapist or some shit like that. She’s annoying as fuck, but he likes her, so I like her, too.” 

I snapped, finally… not a Big Snap, not by my standards anyway, but a little one. I sat up a little and my teeth gritted together and my hands gripped the edge of the table and I demanded - well, begged, really - “Are you gonna shut the fuck up now?” 

He gritted his teeth, too, and damn, I always say I know Steven would never hurt me, but in this moment that didn’t feel true anymore. He said, “No, I ain’t gonna shut the fuck up. Because since you’ve been gone, I watched my friend regrow a life from scratch. He shucked off all your baggage and became a whole person. And now you’re back.”

“And what, you want me to run off again? Want me to go die in a ditch? Is that what’s gonna make this all better?” 

Then he told me, in no uncertain terms, “If all you’re gonna do while you’re here is wreck Nixon all over again, then I’ll run you off my damn self.” 

This is a Steven who would hurt me If he felt like he had to. I’m sure of that now. And it feels like he feels like he has to. Or, it feels like he feels like he thinks he’ll have to very soon. 

Now when I looked at him, I think the fear in me was obvious. 

He said, “I know it must sound like I hate you. And let me be clear - I’m pissed. I don’t think I’ve ever been this mad at anyone in my life. Or this disappointed.” Then he added, his tone finally softening, “But I don’t hate you, man. I love you. You’re my brother. You’re my family. That ain’t gonna change. But I’m pretty sure it was you who told me before that being family ain’t always enough.” 

I choked. I rasped. I wavered. “But you said I was wrong.” 

“You weren’t.” He answered too quickly and that just fucking broke me inside. “I get it now.”

I made myself ask, “What can I do? To fix it?” 

He shrugged. “You can get yourself together. You can become somebody who makes other people’s lives better instead of worse. It’s really not rocket science.” That’s supposed to be funny because Steven is a literal aerospace engineer. “Man, Nixon loves you… he loves you. And he thinks I don’t know! He thinks we didn’t know! And damn, you might just be the most heavily flawed person I’ve ever met in my life, but forreal, it ain’t hard to see what he sees in you. You’re so fucking brilliant, Midge. And you know this. People tell you all the time!” He sounded angry. He sounded frustrated. “You could be anything! There really ain’t anything you suck at. But you just… waste yourself. And it makes me sick, and sad for you.” I’m feeling sick and sad for myself right about now, too. Then he said, “You know, growing up I had to fight for chances… I had to beg and prove myself worthy of opportunities… but you? People took your hand, opened up your palm, and placed opportunity ever so gently in your grip and you just fuckin lobbed it away every time. And I never told you how disgusting I think that is.” He huffed. Shook his head. “So that’s one thing you can do, right there. You can stop pissing away every chance you’re ever given.” 

The waitress arrived with my strawberries. 

I don’t think I like strawberries anymore. 

Neither of us spoke during the ride back to Nixon’s apartment. But before he drove off, he got out and hugged me. I don’t understand Steven. I can’t read him, and he scares me. I asked him if he was coming back up. He said, “Nah. I gotta get back to Houston.” And then he left. 

I don’t like being the kind of person for whom someone feels motivated to fly across the country just to destroy. 

[linzerj]

Golden Gate’s Heroes

(Hey ya’ll it’s that Venom/Ant-Man crossover fic I promised. It’ll have a few more chapters and maybe I’ll even figure out a real plot for it eventually. The AO3 link will be in the notes.)

---

Scott has got to learn to pay attention to schedules. Or maybe he just needs better friends. Actually, no, it’s probably a combination of those two factors that has led him to his current situation.

“Aw, are you sure you can’t come to babysit Cassie? No, I know it’s last minute, but – well, no, I’m sure I’ll figure something else out. Thanks anyway, Mrs. C.” Scott hung up the phone, then put his head in his hands with a groan.

“Are you sure I can’t just come with you, Daddy?” Cassie asked, bringing him out of his funk. “I can just sit in the lobby and play games on my phone. Or I can even sit in the car!”

“No, Peanut, that’s not fair to you,” Scott said, sinking off the couch to sit next to his daughter on the floor. “It’s my fault that I forgot about this big meeting we’re having. But your mom and Paxton are out of town for the week so I can’t just drop you back off, all the usual babysitters and even the emergency babysitters are all busy, and obviously Luis can’t watch you because he’ll be with me, and then Hope and Hank and Janet are out in NYC trying to not kill Tony Stark as they hash out new Accords amendments now that Jan is back, and….” Scott trailed off with a groan.

“I’m eleven now, daddy. I’m almost twelve! Did you know that when you’re twelve, you can legally stay home alone?”

“Oh really?”

“Well, that’s what the teacher said when she was offering everyone who was already twelve to come take a babysitting course!” Cassie beamed. “I’m almost there, just another three months!”

“Yeah, well, I don’t know if that would fly with Agent Woo, remember him?” They both shuddered overdramatically, before Cassie sighed.

“I know, daddy. Sorry again.”

“And again, not your fault Peanut, that’s all on me.” Scott grabbed his cell phone again and began scrolling through his contacts list. “I mean, I haven’t called everyone yet,” he narrated when Cassie peered over his shoulder. “Maybe we can find someone on this list who I know that can watch you for 2, 3 hours tops.”

And that’s when Scott saw it, a name he forgot he had in his phone, certain he had deleted it or lost it when he got his new cell. They’d hit it off at an interview before he’d had to go to prison for his big heist, and hadn’t really talked at all since then. It was such a long shot, but everyone else in his contacts had either already said no or lived way too far to make it in time or were Avengers that were doing who-knows-what. There were probably other options in his phone, but, well, it never hurt to try, so.

Holding his breath, he called Eddie Brock.

Eddie’s phone rang while he was scrolling through his Facebook feed in a half-asleep daze. Venom perked up a bit at the unknown number – they loved to take over and scare any telemarketers that called, which was why Eddie rarely answered unknown numbers anymore.

But this one looked – not too familiar, but it had a legit San Francisco area code, and something about those last four digits was ringing some sort of distant bells. So with a shrug, Eddie answered.

“H’llo?” he said through a mouth of Fruit Loops.

“Uh, hey, is this uh, is this still Eddie Brock?” the caller asked. Eddie swallowed his food, ignoring Venom as he manifested a head and started munching on the rest of the cereal, and studied the number with a confused glance for a second. The voice sounded sort of familiar, but it was not immediately recognizable, and Eddie wasn’t sure who would have his number that was unsure if it was him – he’d lost most of his old contacts when he’d broken his old phone, but he’d reprogrammed in all the numbers of important people or people he talked to daily, like Anne and his boss.

“Yeeeeah, who is this?” he finally said after realizing that the guy on the other end of the line was probably wondering what the hell was taking him so long to respond.

“I don’t know if you remember me, but uh, this is Scott Lang.”

And that made everything click into place. “Oh! Yeah, the engineer who broke into that CEO’s house and stole all the money that he’d been stealing! Yeah, how you been, dude? You’re out of jail I see – probably been out a while by now, actually, huh. What, uh, what’s up?”

“Okay so, this is going to sound super weird and I know we don’t know each other very well but you seemed like a cool dude and whatever, and even after all that LIFE Foundation stuff you still seem really awesome, but uh, anyway. I’ve got a daughter, right, but I’m an idiot and forgot to get a babysitter for like three hours while I go do this interview for my new business, and all my other regulars are busy because the universe is awful, and uh, if it’s not too much trouble and you’re willing to do it, I was wondering if you could, uh… just… watch her for like, two or three hours? Please?”

Scott rushed this all out in one breath, and it took Eddie a moment to process it. Some dude he’d interviewed once nearly 6 years ago was asking him to babysit his kid? Venom offered no insight to his problem, focusing on slurping up the remnants of their cereal.

“I’ll definitely pay you, too, and when I’m done I’d be totally down to hang out too, I mean, if you wanted to, I mean, oh god what am I even saying-”

“Yeah sure.”

On the other end of the line, Scott paused. “Really?”

“Sure,” Eddie said again, pushing Venom’s annoying face away as they leaned in closer. “I’m free, got nothing better to do, and you sound super stressed out man, and kids aren’t so bad. Plus I still totally respect you for that heist and exposing that scumbag, even if it was a one-time thing or whatever, so. Yeah.”

“Oh thank you thank you! I’ll give you my address, can you get here – ohhh boy, just, whenever you can? I gotta run ASAP man.”

“Not a problem,” Eddie replied, jotting down the address and grabbing his keys. “See you in a bit.”

Eddie, Venom said as Eddie plugged the address into his phone and started down the stairs of his building, what is ‘babysitting’? Why would we sit on a baby?

“Oh, uh, that’s not – we’re not literally sitting on a baby, love. We just go and watch a child, oh gosh how old even is this kid, oh boy. Well uh, we basically make sure she doesn’t die while her parents aren’t home, and then we get paid money for it.”

Hmm. Humans are weird.

---

Eddie arrived about five minutes after getting the call. He may have sped a little bit, but he wasn’t pulled over or anything, so it was fine.

Knocking on the door revealed Scott, dressed in a suit, smoothing down his hair and obviously trying not to look too flustered. “Okay, hi, Eddie, hi, I’m Scott, I’m sure you figured that out,” he said, extending his hand. Eddie took it and shook it briefly as Scott continued on. “So Cassie is pretty chill, man, don’t worry about a thing, there’s chicken nuggets in the fridge for you guys to eat and you can also have whatever else you want, and don’t worry about feeding Charlie Ben-Ant-e – wait – Cassie where’s Charlie Ben-Ant-e?!”

“Uhhhh… I don’t see him Daddy!” Eddie heard a girl call. She appeared in the doorway, and Eddie supposed this must be Cassie. She looked between ten and twelve, which, okay, that was definitely manageable. “But I’m sure it’ll be fine, he usually doesn’t start his routine for a while anyway.”

“Okay so don’t worry about Charlie Ben-Ant-e at all then,” Scott said to Eddie. “Also this is Cassie, Cassie this is Eddie, thank you again for watching her so last minute for me like this man, I really really owe you one, but I gotta go, bye Cassie be good-” Scott kissed his daughter on the head – “thanks again Eddie, I’ll see you in a few hours!” And Scott was off, running down the road to what Eddie supposed was his car. Well, then.

Eddie turned to Cassie who was looking at him intently. “Uh,” he said. He stepped inside and closed the door behind him. She was still watching him. “Uh, hi.”

“Hi,” she said, still studying him, before grinning up at him and asking, “So you interviewed my Daddy before?”

“Oh, uh, yeah, back when, you know, he was arrested and whatever.” Eddie mentally smacked himself. That is probably not what you should say to kids.

But Cassie surprised him. “Yeah, he’s my hero,” she told him. “I think it was good that he tried to get that money back to the people it belonged to, even if he didn’t do it the right way. But he tried! And when I got to see him again after he got out of jail, I got him this trophy to show him how much I loved him!” And she triumphantly held up a cheap trophy.

“World’s Greatest Grandma?” Eddie asked, squinting at the writing on it. Cassie looked at the trophy then giggled.

“Yeah, it was the only one they had left, but now it’s like our secret joke,” she told him.

Eddie I like this child, Venom said, and Eddie couldn’t help but agree.

---

Eddie was cool, Cassie decided, even if she heard him muttering to himself every now and then when he thought she couldn’t hear. Maybe he was like some of her friends from school, who talked to themselves to keep on track or reassure themselves. There was nothing wrong with that, and she didn’t want to make him feel bad about himself by pointing it out.

But he was pretty funny too. He told her stories about being a reporter, and made lots of jokes like her dad, and grinned when he munched down on some chocolate with her. He asked her questions too, about what she liked and wanted to do, and when she said that maybe she would be famous someday he chuckled and said that she should think of all his questions as a practice interview. She wouldn’t mind having him as a babysitter again, she decided.

But that’s when Charlie Ben-Ant-e decided to make an appearance.

Her daddy had named the ant after a drummer whose name allowed for the ant pun of all his favorite ants. This was the same ant that had fooled the FBI when her dad had to help Hope and Mr. Pym stop the Ghost and save Hope’s mom.

Cassie had been told to keep the giant pet ants a secret from her friends, because people didn’t usually like ants anyway, and the giant ants were kind of scary. Cassie thought they were cute and that those people were dummies, but whatever. Her pet ant Ant-ony Junior lived with her and her mom and Jim Paxton, and it had learned to be very good about hiding when she or the grownups had friends over.

But Charlie Ben-Ant-e had not yet learned this. It still liked to stick to its usual routine, which was why her dad only had over his friends who knew he was Ant-Man, or had other people over when Charlie was sleeping.

So, sure, when Scott had left, Charlie hadn’t been around. That wasn’t unusual – lately he’d taken to wandering the backyard, or napping under beds. But of course, he was still a creature of habit, especially when it came to his food, and the meeting seemed to be running a little longer than expected.

So when Cassie went into the kitchen to grab chocolate milk for her and Eddie, she almost jumped when she saw Charlie Ben-Ant-e. He was scuffling at the fridge door, and Cassie rushed over to grab his designated food from the cabinet instead.

“Here, Charlie,” she said, filling his food bowl more than she should have, but hoping it would distract him long enough for her dad to come home and Eddie to leave. She liked Eddie, and she didn’t want this to scare him away. That would suck.

She grabbed the chocolate milk and some cups and ran back into the living room, where Eddie was looking past her toward the kitchen with curiosity.

“I was just feeding Charlie Ben-Ant-e,” Cassie explained before Eddie could ask. “Hopefully he won’t bother us.”

“That’s okay,” Eddie said. “Is he like, your dog? Cat?”

“Uh, yep!” Eddie totally didn’t believe her, but he shrugged and let it go.

So they sat for a while, sipping their chocolate milk and watching Phineas and Ferb reruns, when Charlie Ben-Ant-e decided to scuttle on by and head toward the electronic drum set.

“Uh,” Eddie said, eyes wide as he did a double take. “Uh, what…. is that Charlie Ben-Ant-e?”

Cassie grinned guiltily, and shrugged, trying her best to look innocent. “Maaaaybe…”

Eddie was still watching as the ant put on the headset and started drumming. “Ben-Ant-e,” he repeated, “Ben-Ant-e. Well. That. That explains the name pun, I guess.”

Cassie looked up at him, slightly concerned. “Are you… going to run away? Or call the police? Please don’t,” she added as an afterthought. “He’s really harmless. We trained him to play the drums!”

“I’m more… confused,” Eddie said slowly, eyes still on the ant. “How did – what – like, how does he exist? And no,” Eddie continued, whispering to himself, “we cannot eat it, stop it Vee.”

And Cassie blurted, “I’ll tell you how we have him if you tell me who Vee is that you’re talking too.”

“Uh,” said Eddie, and then her dad decided that this was the time to come home.

“Uh,” said Scott, eyes going from Eddie to Cassie to Charlie Ben-Ant-e back to Cassie then back to Eddie. “Uh.”

“Uh,” Eddie said again. Cassie decided that sometimes grown men were idiots.

“My dad is Ant-Man,” Cassie blurted, because there was too much tension now and she couldn’t stand it.

“Cassie!” her dad hissed, and she guessed he was upset that she told his secret identity. But what else was she supposed to do? Eddie had already seen Charlie Ben-Ant-e, and he wasn’t running off screaming yet, so maybe he could be a friend.

“What? Oh, okay, that’s, okay,” Eddie said. “So, uh, you were at that airport battle during that Avengers thing, that was crazy, I did a report on that, but uh, are you like an official Avenger then?”

“You’re taking this way better than some people, but whyyyyy does that matter?” Scott shot back, recovering from Cassie’s betrayal. Cassie was curious too, but Eddie did say he was a reporter, so maybe it was his natural reporter curiosity.

“Well, uh, um, uh, I don’t know if you heard about the uh, shhh, the whole LIFE Foundation rocket and human testing thing just a few months ago?”

“Yeaaahhhhhh, what does that have to do with anything?”

“So, they, uh, they had actually brought back these alien symbiotes and were experimenting with them using people, and well, uh, oh god Vee, listen one of the aliens may or may not be a friend but you won’t arrest us for that right?”

“Dude I don’t think I have jurisdiction to arrest you anyway, but I mean, like, what is even going on.”

“Oh god,” Eddie said again, and that’s when a weird black slime tentacle thing branched out of his shoulder, which formed a head with white eyes and very sharp teeth.

“Hello,” it said, and Eddie put his head in his hands.

“What the he-e-eck,” Scott said, stumbling backwards.

The black goo thing sprouting from Eddie grinned. “We are Venom,” it – they? – explained.

Cassie thought that Venom looked kind of cute in a weird way, and so she voiced her thoughts. “You’re kinda cute, in a weird way.”

Venom swung its head toward her, a long tongue sticking out of its mouth. “Cute? Eddie, tell the child we are not cute! We strike fear into bad guys!”

“I mean you are kinda cute when you’re just a floating head, Vee,” Eddie said, seeming to have overcome the shock of everything going on. Venom turned back to Eddie with a look of betrayal, and Cassie thought that they must be inside Eddie’s head or something because Eddie rolled his eyes at an unspoken jab and muttered, “yes you are you drama queen.”

“Okay, okay, let’s back up for a minute, yeah?” Scott said, holding up his hands. “Maybe let’s try this again. Hi, I’m Scott Lang, that’s my daughter Cassie, I’m also Ant-Man though that’s usually only when Hank really needs me right now, and we may have used our grow and shrink technology to make a very big ant named Charlie Ben-Ant-e that plays the drums and acted as a decoy for me when I was on house arrest. Your turn.”

Eddie blinked. “Well, uh. I’m Eddie Brock, and this is Venom but I call them Vee, and together we are also Venom. We met after I was disgraced for trying to expose Carlton Drake after Drake’s rocket crashed and brought their race here, and then LIFE was doing all sorts of unethical experiments on symbiotes and humans, but I broke in and we accidentally bonded and then we went out and beat up Drake and another evil symbiote and maybe ate some people at one point, and now we just try and keep to ourselves except for some occasional late night runs where we, uh, well.” Eddie paused, looking at Cassie with what she thinks is concern and nervousness.

“We eat the heads of bad guys,” Venom said plainly, and yeah, Cassie could see why Eddie didn’t want to say that out loud.

“You eat people?!” Scott cried. Eddie winced.

“Only bad guys!” he emphasized. “Plus, look, Vee needs some compound from humans, one that’s especially abundant in brains, in order to live or else they’ll start eating my organs and then we’ll both die and that’s not that fun.”

“Phenethylamine,” Venom added, “is what we need. It is also found in chocolate and there are supplements but they aren’t as good as fresh stuff. It is in many animal brains as well, such as the rats and raccoons and even deer we sometimes eat, but we feel that it is not bad to eat other bad people who would be released from prison, free to hurt more people again.”

“So you’re trying to be a hero too?” Cassie asked.

“Sure, yes, we are,” Eddie and Venom said together, and Cassie found that a little creepy but also super cool.

“Well,” her dad said, “that, uh. Sure is something. What the hell are the odds that two superheroes meet because one asked the other to babysit his daughter?”

“Like zero,” Eddie replied. Then: “Seriously though you won’t tell anyone right?”

Scott opened his mouth, then closed it, then opened it again. “Well. I mean. You could always tell them yourself?”

Eddie leveled a very unimpressed stare at her dad, and Cassie couldn’t help but ask, “You want to tell Hope and her parents, daddy?”

“And maybe whatever’s left of the Avengers,” Scott admitted. “Not that I don’t believe you or trust you or anything! But like, more as a… like, you could join us? That’d be cool, right?”

Eddie blinked, and it’s Venom who answered. “We will…think about it,” they said. “For now, we would appreciate if you tell no one, or we might eat your head.”

“Please don’t eat my daddy’s head,” Cassie said at the same time Eddie shouted, “No, Vee, we aren’t eating a hero’s head!” They shared a look, and Eddie continued, “Cassie would be very sad if you ate her dad’s head.”

“Oh. That’s not good. We like Cassie,” Venom said with a bit of a purr, and Cassie giggled.

“Well,” Scott said, “thanks for, for not eating my brain I guess. And, hey, you have my number – let me know if you ever want to do that hero meet-and-greet thing, I’m serious.”

“Sure, I mean, like we said, we’ll think about it,” Eddie replied.

“Yeah, cool, cool, man. I guess, uh. I guess I’ll see you around?”

Eddie and Venom grinned. “Sure,” was the simple reply.

“Great,” Scott said. He looked back to Cassie and then back to Eddie. “And uh, if you’re okay with it – I mean – I’d be okay with you babysitting Cassie still, I mean only if you want to…”

Eddie cut Scott off with a laugh. “Sure, man, we’d love to. See you around, man; bye, Cassie!”

And Cassie watched, still fascinated, as Venom melded back into Eddie and they walked out toward their motorcycle before driving away.

“He was like, the best babysitter ever daddy,” Cassie proclaimed, grinning up at her dad. “I liked him, and Venom too!”

“He certainly was….something,” Scott replied, scratching the back of his neck. “And I’m sure we’ll see him again, sweetie. Now, should we get Charlie Ben-Ant-e some more food or what?”

#venom #ant man #scott lang #eddie brock #cassie lang #venom 2018 #venom movie #ant man and the wasp #antman #crossover #fanfiction #my writing #they're a bunch of idiots #and they're going to be great friends #check the notes for the reblog with the ao3 link

[call-me-rei]

Chapter 14

***I’m sorry this chapter ends weird. It was 6 pages, and if I ended it the way I wanted to it would’ve been 14 pages. Anyways, enjoy this!***

“You’ll be excited just to see me someday.”

---

The weekend passed in the blink of an eye, and before I knew it, it was Monday morning. I sat at the counter in our kitchen not dreading going to school for once in my life.

I was up before Mom since she had worked late last night. Thankfully she had a day off today so I would probably come home early and do something with her if she was up for it.

Rick hadn’t come home all weekend. Part of me knew I should be worried about my stepfather’s safety, but another part of me wanted to say “fuck it” for calling me a cockblock. It’s not like I ever interrupted anything between him and my mom, it was just that my mom didn’t want to sleep with him. Can’t say I blamed her; he had been a real dick lately.

I got up to get another glass of juice and start the coffee for Mom. For once in my life I had woken up before her, and rather than rub it in her face like I always assumed I would do if this were to happen, I decided to be a decent son and make the start of her day brighter.

I would rub it in after she had her coffee. I didn’t particularly want to die that morning.

I thought about making breakfast. It had been a while since my mom had had a good breakfast ever since she got this new job. I smiled to myself as I made the decision, and took the bread, eggs, cheese, butter, and bacon out of the fridge. I put some butter in a skillet and let it heat up. In the meantime, I found a circular cookie cutter in a cabinet and pressed it into some slices of bread.

I put the pieces of bread in the skillet and cracked an egg into each of the holes. It would take a couple minutes for the eggs to cook so I put the bacon on a baking sheet and placed it in the preheated oven. After checking the eggs one last time, I sat on the counter and scrolled through Twitter.

“I thought I smelled something good,” a voice said, startling me.

“Hey,” I said as they laughed at my reaction, “that was rude, and definitely not funny.”

“Oh, cheer up, sweetie,” my mom said, “it was very funny.”

“That’s it, no breakfast for you,” I mumbled loud enough for her to hear and chuckle at. She walked over to the stove to check on my meal.

“Are you making this for me?” she asked.

I shrugged. “I mean, if you wanna think of it like that.” She rolled her eyes and took the coffee off the pot.

“You couldn’t have made something fancier? Maybe some waffles or French toast?”

“This is literally all I know how to make, mother,” I replied with sass. “I’ll make a great husband someday, huh?”

“Kell, any man that loves you for your cooking loves you a whole lot, because sweetie, you can’t cook.”

I sat there with my mouth open at the sass my mom just threw back at me. She only winked and lowered the temperature of the stove before sipping her coffee.

My mom and I had the best relationship imaginable. For the longest time it was just the two of us, so we learned how to communicate with each other. I wasn’t scared to come out to her because we had joked about me being gay for a couple years before the fact. When I came out she simply hugged me and whispered “I knew it” with tears in her eyes.

“Whatever, you’re mean. No soup for you.”

“Save that for when I’m not making sure your food doesn’t burn.” She had a point.

“Whatever man,” I mumbled. Mom flipped the bread and opened the oven to check on the bacon.

“What’s going on after school?” she asked.

I shrugged. “I thought we could hang out if you wanted. We could get a bite. Your treat.”

Mom chuckled, as if she knew I was joking about the last part. “Sure hun,” she said, “but I do have some errands I need to run while you’re at school. Do you think you can come straight home and wait for the locksmith? I don’t think I’ll be home before the appointment.” I nodded.

Mom and I had talked about changing the locks this weekend. Since she and I were pretty much done with her husband’s bullshit, and he hadn’t even come home to apologize, we decided that we didn’t want him to come and go as he pleased. He’d have to earn his way back into the house.

“What time?” I asked.

“Three-thirty. Is that okay?”

I nodded again. “That’s fine.”

She smiled and took the skillet off the stove. I took the bacon out of the oven as she served up the bread nests. When everything was on the plates, she put them on the bar and sat next to me.

“Seriously, some hash browns would’ve been nice.”

I rolled my eyes and mumbled, “Shut up, Mom.”

***

I had no idea what to expect from the rest of my day, but if the feeling from this morning told me anything, it was that today was gonna be great. Or at least less shitty than usual.

I had gotten my new schedule that morning and was pleased to see that choir was my new second period. I loved that. I had gym second period because they couldn’t think of any other class to put me in, so I was excited to get out of wearing basketball shorts and embarrassing myself in front of the hotter half of the male student body.

My first day of choir went off without a hitch. Tyler and Mr. Urie talked me through the warm ups and gave me a lot of music to learn. I also learned about a musical that was gonna be put on in the spring. That was something I was looking forward to.

Now it was time for lunch. I was currently at my locker, putting the books I needed to take home on the top shelf so I would remember to grab them.

“Well, if it isn’t my favorite music appreciation partner,” a voice said from behind me.

“Since when was I your favorite anything?” I asked, not bothering to turn around.

“I was just being polite.” I rolled my eyes. “So listen, we can’t meet up tomorrow.”

I shut my locker and finally turned to look at Vic. “Why not?” I asked.

“My parents aren’t gonna be home – Dad has a doctor’s appointment or something – and they don’t like us having people over when they’re not there to supervise. Something about Mike burning the house down. Anyway, I was wondering if we could meet today?”

“I can’t,” I answered quickly.

“Wow, take some time to think about it, Quinn.”

“Sorry,” I said kind of sheepishly, “but I really can’t. My mom needs me home right after school. I’m supposed to be waiting for the locksmith.”

“Is she gonna be there?”

“No, but my mom trusts me at home by myself.”

“Sweet, then I guess she’ll trust you at home by yourself with me.”

I gave him a confused look, and not just because of that sentence structure. “Come again?”

“We’re meeting up at your place after school, got it?”

I furrowed my eyebrows together in an attempt to give him my most intimidating look.

“You can’t just invite yourself to someone’s house.”

“Hey, I did ask questions.”

“But none of them were ‘Can I come over?’” I said harshly. I expected him to shrug it off and give me a sly remark, but instead he did something I would have never expected.

He apologized.

“You’re right, I’m sorry. Can I come over so we can work on this project?”

I looked at him skeptically. Although his apology sounded somewhat sincere, I couldn’t help by keep my guard up. This was Vic Fuentes we were talking about. He used intimidation and manipulation to get his way.

“Alright,” I said slowly, “you can come over. But be there before three-thirty. I’ll text you the address.”

“Cool,” he said. “I’ll finally get to see how the other half lives.”

I shook my head at his comment as I walked into the cafeteria. What an idiot.

***

It took me until the last ten minutes of my last class of the day to realize that Vic and I had never exchanged phone numbers. In fact, we had never talked outside of school aside from working on our project at his house, so texting him my address would be impossible.

I groaned inwardly when I realized what I would have to do.

I would have to embarrass myself.

I would have to ask Vic for his number.

Kill me now.

“Uh, hey,” I whispered to him. Ms. Pope insisted on teaching until the bell, which was what she was currently doing, so whispering was the way to go. Plus I didn’t want the entire class to hear the question I was dreading asking.

Vic looked at me with the same bored and disinterred expression he was wearing while listening to the lecture. “Yeah?”

“Um,” I started, not sure how to ask.

He cocked an eyebrow. “What is it?”

I sighed. “Nevermind.”

He bit on the corner of him lip before shrugging and looking back down at his desk. I hadn’t noticed that he was writing something in the last few minutes. I assumed they were notes so I shrugged it off.

After what felt like an eternity, the bell finally rang. I took my time getting my things together, trying to think of a way to ask Vic for his number. He must’ve noticed because by the time I had everything packed, the room was empty except for the two of us.

“Uh, hi,” I said awkwardly. He was sitting on my desk staring down at me.

“Hey,” he said with a smirk.

“Can I help you?”

“You’ve been acting weird? You still upset with me?”

“What if I was?” I asked as I straightened up and put my hands on my hips.

“Well, then I’d just have to fix it. Who knows , maybe I could do it later today. Say three-thirty?”

Was he flirting with me? No, right? No. I rolled my eyes at the thought.

“Anyway,” he continued, “I’m still waiting for that text.”

I groaned. The time had come.

“So I thought of something,” I started. He looked at me expectantly. I sighed and decided to stop overthinking it and go with the first thing that popped into my brain. “You wanna come home with me?”

Apparently it was that.

He smirked. “What?” he asked with amusement in his tone.

“It’s just that…it’s almost time…you know?” It was the lamest excuse, but at least it wasn’t a complete lie. It was 3:10, almost time for the locksmith to get there. It was also a ten minute drive to my house so we would have to leave soon.

“Sure, I guess that works,” he said. “Just give me a minute.” I watched as he walked out of the room without another word. Slightly annoyed, I followed him out into the hall. He walked down a few feet before opening someone’s locker. He pulled something out of his pocket and put it on one of the shelves before closing the door and turning the lock.

“What was that?” I asked. “Did you just plant drugs? Are you trying to frame a kid? Did they wrong you?”

“What? No. The fuck?” He pulled out his phone and started typing on the screen.

“Then what was that?”

He slipped his phone back into his pocket and looked up at me. “It was my car keys. That was Mike’s locker. I’m leaving him my keys since I was his ride.”

Oh.

I rubbed the back of my neck nervously. Way to go, Kellin.

“Anyway, it’s getting too close to when you should be home. Let’s go.” He started walking down the hall to the back of the school where the parking lot was. I found myself following behind him like a lost puppy.

“Do you have any idea where you’re going?” I asked him once we were in the lot.

He stopped in his tracks and looked around. “No,” was all he said.

I chuckled as I fished my keys out of my pocket and walked to my car. I pressed the button to unlock my vehicle and sat in the driver’s seat. I stared at my project partner through my windshield with a smug smirk on my face. That smirk didn’t leave my face as he sat in the passenger’s seat and we drove to my house.

“Shut up, Quinn,” Vic mumbled.

#Pierce The Veil - The New National Anthem #Pierce The Veil #Vic Fuentes #Kellin Quinn #Pierce The Veil fanfiction #Pierce The Veil fanfic #Fanfiction #Fanfic #Playlist Love #Kellic #Kellic fanfiction #Kellic fanfic

[talesofdelta]

Sorry I’d neglected this space for so long. I did come across a few stories I thought I’d posted from a few years back. Here’s the first one.

Warning for language.

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

Every superhero needs a shrink. Mine came in a form of a rock star who was just hitting her stride. Her office? Just happened to look like a booth in a diner. Because it was one.

At 2:40 in the morning, hardly a soul stirred in Benny’s diner besides the cook. It was a dive which became my home turf during my time here in Delta. At about the middle of my beat I made a habit to come by here and . . . well, before long I had the menu memorized. Tonight I’d already gotten my first burger, fries, shake, a few donuts and a slice of cherry pie to help fill my girlish figure. Three eggs and corn beef hash were on the way as soon as they’re off the griddle. It was my usual mid-shift snack.

One of the perks of being a bona-fide super soldier was an outrageous metabolism. Besides that . . . well, I was bullet proof, could run all day and was the best markswoman by far in the world. Really, I pretty much didn’t miss with a firearm. That’s not just because I’m obsessed with them, either. I even healed in sunlight so come 7:00 AM there wasn’t a scar on my body no matter what happened during my time on the streets. I wasn’t born this way. It wasn’t magic. I was the best science had to offer a strange world.

The experiment which gave me these powers also gave me looks that . . . well, made me look like a curvy porn star. So, lots of attention. Especially from men. Not always wanted. Oh, and some women too. One time a person said I had this huge personality. Not that way, she meant my presence. The way I looked at people, the sound of my voice, my “mojo” or something. She said it was superhuman. The woman who told me that had a Ph.D. in something . . . psychology I think. But I guess I came across as some goddess both physically and spiritually to most people.

My life wasn’t all gravy and gumbo. I had to fight crime wherever I found it, and in Delta that often meant fighting something you would not file under “normal.” The proper term was “paranormals” but it covered armored robots, humans who were altered genetically or hooked up with cybernetics. Pretty sure there was as much sorcery as super-science out there in the world, but I hadn’t met it yet. And of course there were those born with paranormal abilities, and most people treated them like a plague.

There were more of these beings per capita in the Delta metro region than any other city in the world, which made this a special place. Humans, the normal ones, stopped griping about ethnicity or religion around here. Cultures which wouldn’t dare mix in other parts of the country became happy neighbors. There wasn’t some breakthrough of understanding. People here just felt they had a common enemy. If you had normal genes, they liked you. If you didn’t . . . well, that’s true racism for you.

My ever-present sunglasses came off while I stalked my way over to our booth. There were two young men over in the corner talking and rolling dice. Benny the cook tried hard not to drink in my skin tight royal blue ReSPONSE uniform, even if I have a black ballistic weave jacket on top. Dark blue boots clacked across the linoleum tile floor; matching gloves held my tray of food as I approached our seats. My weapon was in the holster as I slid my food onto the table. I unzipped my jacket, the shades went into their case and I settled in the booth across from my friend.

Susan Lake was in one of her trademark poses. Her platinum blonde hair was slightly spiked. She had a snakeskin boot parked on the edge of the table. For some reason she took to wearing some acid-wash denim jacket and a white turtleneck; she looked like she stepped right out of 1987. Some bedazzled belt buckle and dark blue jeans completed her “queen of doomsday disco” look. A quick smile and I knew she saw my fries.

“Belinda babe.” She gave me the once over. “Why so glum?”

I raised an eyebrow. “Glum? What are you getting at, Sue babe?”

“Something’s on your mind. I can tell.” Something crunched in her mouth. “You only take your shades off when you’re serious. Do you wear them in the shower?”

Susan was always there to bust my chops. “And a good morning to you, too.”

“Fries are piping hot,” she said as she shook her fingers.

Jezz, her traditional assault on my French fries had begun. “Well, they are pretty fresh. What did you expect?” My jacket came off and settled in the corner of the booth.

Susan’s eyes narrowed. “Skip the preamble. Something is driving in your head, and it isn’t how you’re gonna kick some super bad guy’s ass. It’s one of those philosophical things, isn’t it? The difference between right and wrong. Some new perspective that threatens to change the way you go about your job, keeping us all safe from things that go bump in the night?”

The cook brought over my eggs, hash and a second shake and went back to his counter. “Quite a mouthful, Susan.”

“I didn’t feel like sitting here chit-chatting until 4:00 to get to the good stuff.” She bit into a doughnut. “Besides, you’re only taking a break. We can’t stay here too long.”

“And you got all that from my shades coming off?” Shake number one had met its maker. “Are you psychic, or just psychotic?”

Susan looked right into my eyes for a moment. “We both have crap to do and life is full of shitty conflicts. Give.”

I didn’t realize I was smiling until my face softened into a serious scowl. “Susan, humans . . . people are insanely cruel, and I think they . . . we like it that way. I have a big problem with that.”

Immediately she sat properly in her booth, sharp as a hawk. “Now we’re cooking. I’m kind of disappointed you didn’t realize this sooner.” The rock star was gone.

A dollop of catsup fell from my burger like blood. Why did I think that? “I was talking to someone who gave me a different perspective. It’s one I needed to hear and . . . well, it’s given me something to think about.”

Susan had a soda stashed somewhere and chose now to slurp whatever was left of it. “Conversation with whom?” Still looking like a bird of prey.

“Sirocco.” He was new to the right side of the law and I’d taken him under my wing.

Her face broke into gentle laughter. “Oh? Mister ‘Jamaican-me-crazy’ had a point to make? And how long did it take him to stop talking to your massive, and rather perfect, cleavage?” Shaking her head she munched on another fry.

Someday I’d figure out how she got those from me without my noticing. “Rocco is a good guy. And it took him five minutes.” I shook my head with a smirk.

She popped her collar and leaned on one side. “We should take him to Vegas. The ladies would love him. Bet he’s a real horn dog.” She decided to help herself to some corned beef hash.

My smirk faded. “Seriously, Susan. This isn’t about him, it’s about what he said and how I realized some things.”

“Go on.” Susan’s face became soft, but determined. “You need to get this out. I’m your girl.”

A memory of the scent of gunpowder soothed my thoughts for a moment. “Sirocco . . . well, Peter told me about something his mother used to talk about. She pointed to movements in the social structure, for lack of a better word? The point was about what people think and how they react to suffering. To anger. Danger. Exploitation.”

“Not terribly well.” She looked out the window. “Being the Goddess with the gun out in those streets, you know that better than most. What was different about how his mother saw it?”

“She taught him about perspective.” I glanced toward the two men in the corner who were oblivious to my presence. “Not that of the victims or their attackers, the perspective of the people in between.”

“In my experience there really aren’t too many of those,” Susan replied. “Eventually almost everyone is one or the other.”

“Her point,” I continued. “Let me give you a couple of examples. There was a time when a single man shot about a dozen people – killing some – because he couldn’t get a date. The internet was flooded with women pointing out the dangers we face every day.”

She sat up, still relaxed. “Not news, but I’m listening.”

“Of course there was the chorus of ‘not all men’ because . . . well, it’s true. Not all men are like that.” It was then I noticed we were the only two women around.

She shook her head. “Her point was not all men are killers? Profound.”

I leaned forward and stared right a hole through her forehead. “Susan, pay attention. Did I sound like I was finished?”

Sheepishly she slinked backwards in her booth. “Sorry.” Her eyes met mine for a second and I could tell I needed to turn down the intensity.

“There was something else that started a few years later, and this hits closer to home for me.” I took a moment; this had been at me all day. “Police brutality.”

She snapped her head towards me. “What the hell does that have to do with how predatory men can be?” Those blue eyes were white hot with fury.

“Follow. Back then, police shot yet another black man in the United States and a movement comes about with the slogan ‘black lives matter’ protesting police brutality. The core is the feeling cops have it out for black men in particular.” I took a glance to the corner to see if there was a reaction from either man.

I saw Susan think for a moment, deciding what she was going to say. “Belinda, all lives matter. Black. White, Latino, Asian . . . all lives. Every. Single. One.” She stared at me unflinchingly.

“This is where perspective comes in.” I motioned to the counter for my third shake. “People reacted back then too. There was a chorus of ‘all lives matter’ from lots of people. Most of them White.”

“Neither ethnicity nor race should matter,” she stated. “The fact all lives matter is a simple truth that should be self-evident . . . but isn’t.”

“But Susan that’s the –“

She cut me off like a hatchet. “No, Belinda. There is nothing. No compromise. I’m an officer of the Navy. I know what it means to serve our country and defend her interests. I do it willingly. I do what I can to defend life, liberty and the constitution within the union. And I don’t believe that because I went to the finest military academy. I wasn’t made to feel that way because my family has served for generations. It’s the way I am because every citizen of the United States of America is whom I fight to protect. It’s how I was raised. It is a God given right of freedom too many take for granted . . . and too many more want to steal from the people of our nation.”

Told you she was a conservative hawk. Or did I leave that part out? “Do tell, Sue babe.”

She actually glared at me. “This is not a laughing matter, Belinda.”

“I’m sorry, Susan.” So this was what it was like. “Shouldn’t have needled you like that.”

She sighed, leaning back in her seat. “It’s okay. We love our country so much. I love Old Glory and all she represents. Hope, opportunity and the diversity of our nation which sets us apart.” I could hear underneath the glitz and glamour was the blue collar woman from Jersey.

“I’m not trying to rib you,” I said, “but you sound like a super-patriot.”

Running her fingers through her hair, she bore a wide grin. “Guilty as charged.”

I pulled a few fries off the plate. “But is there room for a dissenting voice? For those who see things differently than you?”

“Always will be. And I’ll defend them just like you do.” Two shakes and another plate of fries materialized at our table. “I just hate it when people try to pull us apart from within.”

“How is pointing out the tendency of the law enforcement, conventional like most or paranormal like me, to crack down on those who are at a disadvantage pulling us apart?” I took a breath and waited for her reply.

“Singling out a faction for special treatment is, in my view at least, very wrong.” She picked up a handful of fries and scooped them into her mouth one at a time. “I agree that black lives matter. Paranormal lives matter. Every life matters.”

Peter’s mother was right. “So do you think they should have stayed quiet? Instead of calling out police, or men for that matter, they should have done what? Be quiet?”

Susan relaxed, which made me nervous. “Help make things better by working in the community. Join the force and help make sure your neighborhoods are represented, if you think the police aren’t representative of your neighborhood. Teach girls and young women how to defend themselves, but also look at what can be done to help teach men not to be predators.”

“Not the reply I expected, Sue babe.” Honesty was the best policy.

“So much of what we see, the conflicts within America and among her people, is based on standards that have been held for hundreds . . . thousands of years,” she said. “I’ve always been a fan of one thing.”

Burger number whatever had arrived. “What’s that?”

“Choice, babe.” Susan waived for a soda. “I believe everyone should have the opportunity for a choice in life. I want beauty standards replaced with nothing. I want women to have every choice that are available to men, and have that be ok. I want every God-fearing soul in this country . . . hell. I want every person on this planet to have the chance to follow their dreams. To choose life or home or family. To feel doors opened. No glass ceilings or floors. To have the knowledge they are different and unique, but not better or worse than anyone else simply because the color of their skin or the Y-ness of their chromosome.”

I did not expect that. Maybe I should have. “You believe in freedom.”

“You bet I do,” she beamed. “I am a feminist. And proud. I am a conservative. And proud. This country needs to wrap its mind around the fact that these are not competing ideals. I am all of both.”

“Do tell.” Setting down my burger I let out a soft belch. So ladylike. “How do you balance all that, anyhow?”

“I have always been as conservative as I am White. State rights are important to me. Fiscal matters . . . matter.” She snickered. “I believe in God and country first, and I feel there are stringent definitions on how our nation should be governed within our constitution. The United States needs to have a strong military to defend her interests and her allies. I believe in choosing life over abortion.”

Just in case she was thinking about getting a reaction from me, I closed that door shut. “I’m not going there, Susan.”

“Not asking you right now, but sometime you have to tell me where you stand.” Her face was relaxed; there was even a light smile on her lips. “I’m a conservative, through and through.”

Sometimes the stupid in my brain just has to have a word. “So how can you be a feminist?”

“You have no clue how to be a woman, do you?” She looked only half-angry. “You missed the point. All of these positions – and dozens more – are a choice. I believe every woman should have the choice to be what she wants to be. To choose to be an attorney and have it be alright. Be a housewife and have it be alright. A boardroom executive shouldn’t be a ‘feminazi bitch’ and a home maker shouldn’t be a ‘sell out.’ That’s the part you don’t get.”

She was right. “Thank you. I never thought of it that way.”

“You’re welcome,” she replied. “And this country gives the best chance for anyone to be whatever they want to be. That’s why I hate it when groups start picking apart at each other. One nation. Under God. Indivisible. With liberty and justice for all. Every. Single. Life. Matters.”

“You say that,” I began. “And I’m sure you believe it. But Peter’s mother pointed out a few things about the ‘silent majority’ or whatever it was she called it.”

“Really?” Susan took a sip of soda. “This I want to hear.”

“If all lives matter,” I said. “Tell me why the ‘all lives matter’ movement only started after the ‘black lives matter?’ Why did it take the outrage of black families to spur the conversation of ‘all lives matter’ then?”

“Try making sense, if you can?” Susan was genuinely confused.

I was mad, partially at myself. “People didn’t react to shootings with ‘all lives matter.’ Most people, and let’s be honest as we’re both white, the majority of white America didn’t seem invested in making sure that all lives . . . well, mattered.”

“Whatever you’ve been reading, please get some facts and numbers to get you back on course.” Yes, she was actually a rock star on the rise. “Just because someone thinks they are being singled out for special persecution doesn’t make it true, Belinda.”

“Just because you,” I shot back, “or I . . . don’t experience that first hand? Doesn’t mean profiling of African-Americans doesn’t exist. And it’s that willingness to be blind to someone else’s plight? That was Peter’s mother’s point.”

“What?” She waived to the counter. “I never said African-Americans don’t face challenges in the United States. More fries!”

She had her wall up. “There was a counter movement in favor of law enforcement officers who put their lives on the line every day. It was called Blue Lives Matter and it got quite the push.”

Susan tilted her head slightly. “I’m glad.”

“Peter’s mom said . . . I want to get this quote right.” I thought about a .44 caliber cartridge and how I loved the form. “If you have a problem with black lives matter, because all lives matter . . .”

“And they do,” Susan quipped.

“But don’t have a problem with Blue Lives Matter,” I shot back. “Then the operative word is ‘Black.’”

She blinked. I’ve known her for a while; it’s one of her surprised looks. “I see.”

“When a group gets victimized,” I started. “And they call out? Lots of good people take up the cause. And many of them come from outside of the people getting shafted. But they aren’t the problem. It’s the silent majority that seems to react to . . . well, almost counter-protest. Or they say nothing. I’m not sure which is worse.”

“You’re concentrating on the few bad apples. To hear you, it’s like most people don’t care.” Fries and a couple cups of coffee arrived.

“They don’t.” Honesty. Remember? “If you put together all the bad apples with the protesters and activists? You might equal about five percent of the ‘silent majority’ that just doesn’t care.”

“Hmm.” She ran a finger through her hair. “I guess this has been eating at you.”

I thought about the two men in the corner, rolling dice. “And who are they supposed to turn to? The very police that they think are the problem?”

“Work within the community.” She put a hand on the table.

I aggressively put my cup down. “Is it any wonder why some take the law into their own hands?”

Her eyes popped wide. “Jezz. Take it down a notch.” She shrank down a bit.

“I’ve taken a look at a case file.” I relaxed my grip on the cup. “It’s out in Indiana, so it’s out of my jurisdiction. There’s a perp that shot up a whole town. Pretty much leveled the place.”

“What’s the city?” Her eyes narrowed. “Carmine?”

“Yup.” I sipped some coffee.

She shook her head. “Some kid goes ‘Rambo’ over a small town? Killing like that? They should be put down like the animal they are.”

I gave her a square look “You don’t know the case, but he thinks he’s a man at war. Life is easy to take away. Impossible to give back. He’s a killer so if I get the case? I’ll take him down as quickly as I can.”

“O-okay,” She glanced at my body. “At war with who?”

It was now I realized I was leaning towards her. “White supremacy activists. And those who help them.”

She checked her nails. “So? Murder is murder.”

“Coming from a soldier.” I met her gaze.

She raised a hand. “Different. Not comparable, babe.” She looked out the window and slouched slightly.

I knew I got through. “What makes him different? What do you think makes him tick?” I said softly.

“Pretty clear,” she shot back. “Race.”

I waved a finger. “Wrong.”

Her eyes were the size of plates. “What?”

“Injustice.” I put my finger on the table. “From slavery, to Jim Crow laws, to the Klan and institutional racism, at each step there were innocents mowed down. Crushed. Worse. And not a single body that was supposed to protect blacks . . . well, did anything. Churches. Police. Teachers. Government. Any of them could have done something, but most of them . . . well, didn’t. It’s the story of lots of groups in this country.”

She leaned forward. “Civil rights act?”

“Should not have been necessary,” I said. “But it didn’t happen until protests and riots. Why? Not because these practices aren’t wrong. Because most people couldn’t be bothered. They didn’t care, Susan, until buildings were burning and cars were flipped over.”

She raised an eyebrow. “What is it you said about Apathy?”

“The bunny slope of evil, babe.” I said. “That’s the story of race relations in this country.”

A cold French fry found her mouth, and she nodded. “Ok, I’ll give you that one.”

“And it’s not just that, let’s go to the violence against women by men.” I saw her demeanor change.

“There was a ‘He for She’ movement to support some wave of feminism, sorry Sue-babe I can’t keep them straight, in the wake of the ‘not all men’ fiasco. Men came out in support of women. Not most, but a fair number.”

“And you also had the Men’s rights activists.” There was a dark look that crossed her face.

“Yeah, kind of like the first guy I started telling you about. They never proved a link to Men’s Rights activists, though. But there is a trend. He for she. All lives matter. These didn’t happen until the victims started screaming.” I gulped down some coffee and it hurt. “All lives didn’t matter until . . . well, never.”

Susan cocked her head to the side. “Keep going.”

I took a deep breath. “From the trail of tears to the internment camps of world war two, this country has been pretty clear that some lives just weren’t important to the masses. I read about a place . . . Rosewood? It was like clearing brush for cows. And remember the open hostility against Muslims in the U.S. and the hundreds killed because of it?”

“One of our darkest moments, Belinda babe.” She was serious as a funeral. “One that should never be repeated.”

“It’s always repeated. Just . . . I don’t know. The names change but you always have the same three sides.” I glanced outside at the streets. “Victims, killers and the people who don’t give two clips of ammo about what happened.”

“That’s not true,” she said as she fixed her posture. “There are always people who care.”

“Just not enough.��� I didn’t realize I had a scowl on my face until I saw my reflection in the window.

Susan failed to put on a smile. “Or not the right ones.”

The table’s quiet for about a minute. Susan picked up the torch. “So this has been eating at you all day?”

“A bit longer than that,” I confessed. “Mostly because I’m a federal officer. A government super-cop. The police brutality sat close to me.”

“You don’t do that,” she said softly. “I know you better than you think.”

“I know I don’t,” I replied while checking my watch. “Most of the men and women in blue keep us safe. They are the first line of defense and they . . . we . . . do our best to serve and protect everyone. Especially those who hate us.”

“But there are always bad apples,” She said, kicking a boot back onto the table. “One racist cop spoils it for everyone else.”

“What gets me,” I said, “is how right they are.”

“Come again?” Her boot slipped off the table loudly. “Who’s right?”

“The counter protesters. Not all men are predators. Not all law enforcement officers target minorities unfairly.” My plate was clean so I had nothing to hide behind. “Most of the time, people are good to each other.”

“Just remember that, Belinda.” She offered a bite of her doughnut.

“Pete’s mother said she knew the ‘not all men’ meme when she was a girl,” I said. “Except she said it was called ‘not all white people.’ And she had a reply.”

She dropped her peace offering. “What was it?”

“His mother said ‘not all, but enough to where it’s a problem I have to think of every second of every day. That is a toll taken on my life that you don’t pay’ she told them.” And it was a price I’d yet to pay myself.

“I won’t argue,” she nodded with agreement. “We each have our crosses to bear, Belinda. But what makes us succeed, what makes us the nation we are, is how we bear that burden. What we do with it. That is what separates man from beast.”

“I’m feeling pretty aware of my part in this all right now,” I stated as Benny dropped off the bill. “I’m a cop and a woman and a superhero . . . well, they call me one anyway.”

She got up. “Yes, you are.”

“Look at this place,” I said while I circled my finger. “We have people – citizens of Delta – protesting discrimination every day. They organize demonstrations in the hope someone will realize their plight and help them out.”

“Which ones, Belinda? We have people claiming discrimination every week.” I swear she did have her sensitive moments but this wasn’t one. “Kind of hard to keep them all straight.”

I wasn’t going to tell her the rest. “The more we hold onto the status quo, the more we fuel the next cataclysm. Here in Delta all the normal humans have learned to play together, but not for the right reasons, Susan.”

“But they are playing together, and nicely.” She tried to grab the check.

I’m still faster. “They’re only at peace because they all have a class to look down on. Paranormals. Mutants. Cyborgs. They are the lowest class in Delta only because they were born or made different.” I glanced at the bill before tossing cash down on the table.

“Don’t forget, you’re one of those freaks.” She put on a fedora she found from God knew where.

“I treat every life as one that matters. I take the ones I have to.” I zipped up my jacket and pulled out my shades. “But so many won’t see things that way. They’ll only see a trillion dollar weapon slaying someone or something who was a victim of circumstance. It’s a tough road to haul.”

“I’m not going to preach to you,” she said. “I’m a Christian woman and I could point to a book with a role model that I use. Find your own way and do your best. Like I told you before . . . “

“I can only do what I can do.” It’s the truth for every single one of us. “And I will.”

I thanked her for letting me get that off my chest and went off into Delta city, where nothing’s normal but the music.

#deltaverse #talesofdelta #delta city #koeing #susan lake #amwriting #short story #superheroes #spandex #writing

[dimensionhoppingrose]

In My Veins (19/20)

Title: In My Veins Rating: K+ Pairing: Ten/Rose, human AU Summary: –Telepathic bond soulmate AU– Everyone kept saying kids couldn’t develop telepathic bonds, that it was completely impossible. John Smith and Rose Tyler defied the impossible.

Notes: Well I finally managed to hash out a soulmate AU enough to be happy with writing it. All the blame for this entire story goes to @lastbluetardis​, who not only encouraged it, but also allowed me to yell at her about it until I was happy enough to start writing it. Blame her entirely.

Read it on A03

Catch up on Tumblr

Note: Guess I found time write after all.

Seven more months.

Rose was starting to get anxious. She knew she wasn’t always the easiest person to deal with, and sure, John was in her head all the time, but that wasn’t the same as living with her.

It’s pretty much the same as living with you, John pointed out when he picked up on those thoughts. Rose shrugged miserably.

Living with me means you have to put up with me taking too long in the shower and staring at the fridge because I can’t decide what I want to eat or if I want to eat and getting up every ten minutes because I can’t sit still—

Oh, well when you put it that way you’re right, that sounds awful, John cut Rose off dryly. Take a breath, Rose. I love you. Believe it or not I already know about a lot of your little quirks because I experience them every single day. There’s almost nothing you could at this point that would surprise me. Unless you have a secret cache of bodies somewhere that you've been hiding from me for almost ten years. Then we might need to talk.

Rose giggled a bit despite herself. No bodies. She paused for a moment. We’ve known each other for almost ten years. Feels like longer.

Why, because I’m so insufferable? John teased, and Rose rolled her eyes.

No, I just… I feel like you’ve always been here, you know? She couldn’t remember a time when John hadn’t been here, in her head. And she liked it that way. She liked having him here.

I like having you here too, John said, and Rose could just imagine the stupid little smile on his face as he said that. I love you.

I love you too. Rose definitely didn’t have a stupid little smile of her own as she said those words. Definitely not.

* * * * * * * *

“Ooooooh, this one’s nice.”

Rose’s parents, unsurprisingly, had been unwilling to let her look at apartments with John alone. Honestly, what kind of trouble did they think they could get into? But Pete had insisted on coming, and Rose hadn’t felt like arguing with him. Sometimes, it was just better to let her parents have their way.

“One bedroom,” Pete commented, and Rose had to resist the urge to roll her eyes.

“Yeah, Dad, we’re going to be sharing a bed. We don’t really need a second bedroom.” It was more money for something they didn’t need.

“I know, I know…” Pete didn’t look too thrilled to be hearing that, of course. Rose didn’t bother dignifying that with an answer. She had never bothered trying to explain to her parents that John didn’t care about sex. There was no point. They’d never believe her.

Not that it mattered once she was eighteen. She could do whatever she wanted and her parents couldn’t stop her. Including share a bed with her boyfriend.

Sad that sharing a bed is all we aspire to, John spoke up. He was out in the living room talking to the lady showing them the apartment, but apparently he was paying attention to the conversation. Rose stifled a laugh, but something in her eyes must have told Pete she was talking to John, because he raised an eyebrow.

“Come on, it’s nice though, isn’t it?” Rose asked quickly, distracting him.

“And how does John plan on paying for it?”

“With money, I would hope,” Rose said, a bit sarcastically. Pete gave her a look, and she sighed. “He got a second job on campus. He’s done all the math and it’ll be a bit tight, but he can afford it. He’s really good at saving money. He has no life.”

Rude!

They left the apartment, heading for the next one on the list. They had a long day ahead of them. This is weird, John said uncomfortably. He was grateful Pete hadn’t felt the need to break out the limo just to look at apartments (that was for special occasions), but he did have his personal driver driving them from place to place. It made John feel awkward. I could have just driven us.

It’s nothing personal, but Dad doesn’t trust anyone else to drive him around, Rose said gently. He was in a really bad car accident when I was a baby, and it kind of traumatized him. That’s what Mum says anyways. He hasn’t been behind the wheel of a car since and he hired a driver as soon as he had the money so Mum wouldn’t have to keep driving him everywhere. Charlie’s the only person besides Mum he trusts to drive him. He’s been Dad’s driver since I was five.

John cast a look at Pete, noting that he did seem rather stiff and tense. He hadn’t spoken the entire way from the mansion to the first apartment. John had assumed it was because he was unhappy with the task at hand.

That’s fair, John said quietly. I guess I wouldn’t like being in cars either if I’d almost died in one.

Pete relaxed once they were out of the car at the next place, though still not completely thrilled as they looked through the apartment. Rose liked this one a lot too. She had a feeling she was going to like most of them, though. “Hey Dad, this closet’s pretty big,” she said teasingly as she looked into the closet in question. “Maybe we could put a bed in here and have a second bedroom.”

“Very funny.” Pete pinched the bridge of his nose, far from amused by his daughter’s antics.  Rose made a face at him.

“You knew I was going to move in with him when I turned eighteen,” she pointed out. “I told you that.” He’d had plenty of time to process it.

“I know, Rose. I just…” He sighed. “Nobody wants to think about their daughter growing up. You’ll understand someday.”

John had been talking to the man showing them the place, but he went oddly quiet at Pete’s words, and Rose felt the rush of anxiety that went through him.

What’s wrong? Rose asked, surprised. She hadn’t been expecting such a reaction.

Nothing, John said quickly, and before Rose could question it further he was thinking about money and commutes and a thousand questions, all of which he proceeded to ask the man and distract from Rose. She scowled at his back and went back to touring with her dad.

Okay, seriously, what’s wrong? Rose asked on their way to the next place. Pete wasn’t going to distract them from a conversation in the car. John was trying desperately to think about anything else and make it hard for Rose to break through and figure out what his anxiety was. John. Knock it off and talk to me.

John sighed faintly. I just… do you… do you want kids?

What? Rose asked in disbelief. Where the hell is that coming from?

What your dad said earlier.

What did he… oh. Rose blinked as realization set in. “Nobody wants to think about their daughter growing up. You’ll understand someday.”

What does that have to do with anything? I think we have a few years before we need to worry about anything.

I know, but do you want kids? John felt like he should already know the answer to that. He was in her head all the time, after all. But it wasn’t something that had ever really come up.

I… yeah, I do, Rose admitted. She wouldn’t deny she had half-daydreamed about having a family with John someday. It would be amazing. But I don’t want to start one the minute we move in together or anything.

Yeah, but making a baby kind of involves sex.

Oh. Oh. Oh Jesus. Rose nearly rolled her eyes, but resisted. John might get the wrong idea. Is that what you’re worried about? We can figure something out. Maybe we can adopt. Honestly I don’t know if I’d want to pregnant. I don’t remember much from Mum being pregnant with Tony but I definitely remember her throwing up a lot. It sounds awful.

John smiled weakly. Adoption might be good.

Now will you please relax? Rose knew he was a bit insecure about the no sex thing, even if he tried not to let her see it. She wanted to put him at ease. Nothing was going to make her love him any less. He’d be a lot happier once he finally allowed himself to believe that.

Do you think your dad would rip my head off if I kissed you?

Rose smirked and leaned over, pressing a kiss to John’s lips. She thought she saw Pete twitch a little, but he couldn’t get mad; she had instigated it, after all.

* * * * * * * *

Five more months.

John had started his second job right before the semester started, and he was basically always tired. Rose didn’t like it. Are you sure you can handle this? She asked, and John could just imagine the frown on her face. He was sitting at the library, trying to study, but he kept getting distracted by yawning.

Yeah, of course, I’m fine.

You keep saying that. Rose didn’t seem impressed by his bravado. That was okay. Really, he was too tired to put up much of an act. I don’t think you know what fine means.

Very funny. John yawned again, and was momentarily distracted by an equally haggard and exhausted-looking student walking up to check out a book. Really, I’m okay. And it’s worth it to have the money for our apartment.

I wish you’d just let Dad help you. I bet he’d be willing. He was really impressed with how thoroughly you looked into apartments, Rose pointed out. John had gone just a little crazy with apartment hunting. There were roughly twenty spreadsheets and diagrams buried in the hard drive of his laptop from all the research he had done.

He’ll be less impressed if he thinks I can’t afford it, John said. He could almost feel Rose rolling her eyes.

This is some bloody man ego thing, isn’t it? Gotta prove you can pay the way for your lady and all that?

John bit down a laugh. Are you ‘my lady’ now?

Well I wouldn’t say you own me or anything.

I wouldn’t say that either. You’d slap me.

A ripple of amusement went through the link, and John smiled tiredly. God he loved her laugh.

* * * * * * * *

John’s dreams had always been a little weird — especially during high-stress study times when he seemed to have reoccurring nightmares about his books trying to eat him — but they had only gotten stranger since he’d started working at the library.

Tonight it had been some textbook chasing John down a row of library shelves screaming “YOU PUT ME IN THE WRONG SECTION” and while it hadn’t woken John up, by some miracle, Rose had snapped awake right as a second book had joined the textbook. The images from the dream turned fuzzy has Rose’s conscious mind took over; it was hard for them to say each other’s dreams when the other was awake. And honestly, Rose was just as happy for that. She’d had more than enough of books chasing her to last a lifetime.

Rose rolled out of bed, yawning. She was thirsty, so she went down to the kitchen to get a drink. She paused on the way there, noticing the light in the sun room was on. That was weird. Maybe Tony had snuck downstairs to play a video game or something. Rose went to check, deciding it would be perfect blackmail material since she had used up her “I saw Tony and his boyfriend shirtless and kissing” fact.

She was a bit surprised to find Jackie sitting on the couch, flipping mindlessly through a photo album. “Mum?” She asked quietly. Jackie jumped, looking back.

“Rose! What’re you doing awake? Did you have a bad dream?”

“No. Well, yeah. Kind of.” Rose shrugged. “John did. Still is, actually, he hasn’t woken up. It bleeds over sometimes though, and his dreams are weird.”

As usual, Jackie went expressionless at the mention of John. Rose ignored it. “What are you doing up?”

“Oh, I couldn’t sleep.” Jackie shrugged, looking back at the photo album. Rose hesitated before going to join her. She was surprised to see it was pictures of her — from her eighth birthday, if she wasn’t mistaken. Jackie flipped the page to Rose blowing out her candles, and sighed. “Did you already know John by this point?” She asked. The question surprised Rose.

“This was the day the bond formed completely, I think,” she said quietly. “Remember the entire month before my birthday, I kept getting headaches? I think it was from the bond trying to form. John got headaches that entire month too. We’ve talked about it.”

Jackie kept her eyes focused on the picture, tracing her pinky along the tiny contours of her daughter’s face. “I don’t hate him, you know.” The out-of-nowhere declaration surprised Rose. She nearly said she had never thought Jackie hated John, but that was a lie and they both knew it.

“You act like it sometimes,” she said instead, and Jackie sighed.

“He just… he got so much of you, Rose. He’s known you for almost ten years and he knows you better than your father and I ever will. It’s a lot. We raised you, and we love you, and there are things about you we’ll never know or understand. But he does.”

It took Rose a moment to realize what her mother was getting at. “So you’re… jealous… of John?” She said slowly.

“Of course not!” Jackie protested, though after a moment her expression shifted from offended to almost a little ashamed. “Envious, maybe. It’s hard, feeling like you don’t understand your own daughter.”

“Mum…” Rose sighed, leaning over and hugging Jackie tight. “You don’t have to understand every little thing. I love you. And I know you love me. That’s all that matters, right?”

Jackie wrapped her arms around Rose, pulling her close and kissing the top of her head. “Yeah. That’s all that matters.”

A bolt of fear ran through Rose’s mind as John jerked awake. Get fire! He yelled incoherently, and Rose bit down a laugh. The books are gonna get me!

The books aren’t going to get you, John. Go back to sleep.

John mumbled something even Rose couldn’t understand, and Rose felt him relax as he fell asleep once more.

#ficandchips #dwau #dwfic #dw fic #in my veins #One more chapter #Thank god #This story has been way too much on my mental health

[jbuffyangel]

HVFF Chicago 2017 Wrap Up

What an amazing weekend! First, I got to spend it with my dear friend @triciaolicity​. She generously let me stay at her house, which gave us ample more time to talk about Arrow and our lives as wives & mothers. We are two Irish ladies who love to sit around a kitchen table and share stories. She is such a blessing in my life. I love you!

Second, HVFF Chicago was AWESOME. Seriously great. I tweeted out as much information as I could, but I do have a few more details that cannot fit in a 144 character limit.

This was my third convention, not including SDCC. I realize there are so many of you who would love to go, but may never get the chance to for a variety of reasons. So, all the goodies I picked up at the convention I will be giving away.  It's just my small way of trying to bring HVFF to you. The giveaways will start the week before 5x20 airs. I'll give away something each week (5x20-5x23). I thought it'd be a fun way to wrap up the season together.

Back to HVFF though. Let's dig in!

David Ramsey

If you ever have a chance to go to a convention make sure you see David Ramsey. He comes to play EVERY SINGLE TIME.  David is swarmed with fans at the autograph table, but he always takes his time with each one of us. He listens intently, tries to answer all of our questions and gives the best spoilers. He is warm, incredibly gracious, humble, funny, energetic and his hugs are out of this world. I've never heard a single bad thing about him from any fan. David Ramsey is just good people. Also, may I just add, he is a fine male specimen. Honestly, we just stare at him while we wait. God is a friggin genius.

I headed up to the autograph table (with giveaway goodie in hand) and David signed it. After we exchanged pleasantries I got down to business.

Me: So, a lot of fans were upset with Wendy's last interview.

David: Oh really? Why is that?

Me: Well, she said Olicity would be rebuilding on a friendship level.

David: (nodding thoughtfully) Well that's true.

Me: I know, but it's been a rough season David. They are hanging on by a thread.

He laughed.

Me:  Is there anything you can tease on a romance level for Olicity at the end of the season?

David: (smiling) Well there's always a chance for romance with Olicity.

I give him a look.

David: (without missing a beat) There's a BIG chance for romance with Olicity.

Then, he gives me the same knowing look and we both laugh. We hug. He tells me I'm awesome. I start to swoon and Tricia leads me away, so I don't actually drool on the man.

@triciaolicity​ asked David, "What's Diggle's role if we can presume Oliver Queen will be a full-fledged superhero at the end of Season 5?" David told her that Diggle will still be Yoda. Oliver will always mess up and Diggle will be there to guide him just as he does now.

However, NONE of this compared to what my friend Laura got. Laura regularly attends conventions, so if you don't follow her on Twitter please do because she's awesome. Here are her tweets from her conversation with David:

Now, it's a little confusing because of the 144 character limit, so this is how Laura explained it to me while we waited for David's panel to start. Laura and her friend asked David if he could describe the end of the season in one word. While David was thinking, Laura's friend offered him an answer by saying, "OTA?" David quickly responded with, "They get back together," thinking she said "Olicity." Laura jumped in and asked, "Wait hold on. Do you mean Olicity?" But David didn't respond. (It's really noisy in there.) But... he kept talking. David explained it's a television show and there had to be conflict at some point. He compared Olicity to Dyla and said he believes they'll get married someday. Laura asked if there'd be babies too and David said, "Sure."  Then, Laura asked if they'd get back together at the end of the season, but David implied it would be before the end of the season.

Laura is a goddess.

Now, this entire conversation backs up what David said to me. It backs up what the 5x20 spoilers are hinting at. It backs up what Marc told me in JULY at SDCC. It also backs up what we've seen in the show this season. So, I hope this abates any fears that Olicity is not getting back together this season. If it doesn't then... I'm tapped folks. Don't know what to tell ya.

Before anyone asks, you know I hate to guess exact episode number, but I’ll make an exception. I’d say we’re looking at 5x22 for Olicity to reunite. Sort of like Oliver and Laurel did in S1′s penultimate ep, but Olicity will stick. Olicity is forever.

We can always count on David. He's the hero this fandom needs. 

David also had an  amazing panel that you can watch here. 

Stephen Amell

Stephen had no line at his booth for a minute, so we took it as a sign from Jesus and hurried over to get his autograph. Now, Tricia has met Stephen before, but was a little disappointed with her first encounter. She asked him if he could tease something for Olicity in the future. He said no and Tricia asked, "Anything?" but he didn't respond. Instead, he got up and moved to the other side of the table. 

Now... the man is asked for spoilers all the time and I'm sure he was met with more than a few cranky Olicity fans this past year. However, Tricia is not one of those fans and that kind of a response is a bummer when you just dropped $60. So, I convinced her to give Stephen another chance.

Tricia: You tweeted out "Holy shit!" after reading the 5x22. Can you tease any "Holy Shit" moments?

Stephen: (abruptly) No.

Tricia gives me the "It's happening again" look. So, I put my arm around her and smile at Stephen.

Me: Hi!

Stephen: (looks up at me) Hi!

His eyes are insanely blue. It's really not fair to be this handsome.  I promise you, it's out of hand how gorgeous he is in person. It always takes a minute for my brain to readjust, but I was a woman on a mission. No time for the distraction that comes from all the pretty. I forged ahead.

Me: Yeah so... we're gonna need more than that Stephen. It's been a really long season.

Stephen starts to laugh: Oh yeah?

Tricia and I: (in unison) YEAH.

Me: Anything you could give us would be so appreciated.

Stephen: (thinks for a minute) Okay, well if you're a fan of the series since Season 1 -

He pauses and looks at us.

Tricia and I: (in unison) We are.

Stephen: (smiles) then there's someone who's coming back in 5x22 that we haven't seen since S1.  And... you should be the most excited  about a series finale than you've ever been based on the last scene in 5x22.

Yeah okay. That did it. We're jazzed. Stephen takes my giveaway goody and starts to sign.

Me: Thank you so much. So, how do you want Oliver to handle his final showdown with Prometheus?

Stephen: (thoughtfully) I don't know. I think it depends on what he does, you know?

Me: Very true, but do you think Oliver is going to come out of this with a stronger moral code?

Stephen: Yes, I think so.

Key to spoiler hunting is to know when to tap out. I thank him profusely and scurry away.

Milo Ventimiglia

I've seen Milo at the other two conventions I've attended. I've watched basically everything he's been in (Gilmore Girls, Heroes, Gotham). I have always been a fan, but I am completely in love with his performance of Jack on This Is Us. So are a lot of people, because from what I could tell in comparison to the other conventions, his lines have DOUBLED.

Milo is like David Ramsey. I've never heard anyone say anything bad about him ever. The man had surgery on his hand and he was signing autographs with it. That's serious commitment. Again, Milo's lines were long, but he was taking his time with each fan. Really listening to their questions and offering thoughtful responses. Also, unbelievably handsome. He was wearing a tight t-shirt because God is kind and there are muscles on top of muscles. Thanks for the tip from fanmommer, I can also attest that he smells incredibly yummy.

He takes the This Is Us giveaway to sign (I'll give that one away before the Arrow ones) and we start our nice chat.

Me: You are just spectacular on This Is Us. I think you were born to play this role.

Milo smiles so sweetly and so shyly it almost broke my heart.

Milo: Thank you so much.

Me: I have to say I really enjoyed the finale. I've been married almost 11 years  and man... that is a fight you have when you're married. Both my husband were nodding along and saying, "Yes!" as Rebecca and Jack hashed it out.

Milo: You know, what's interesting is that we did several takes of that scene and there were quite a few that were way more intense.

Me: Really?

Milo: Yeah there were some where me and Mandy really went at each other, but that's the great wisdom of the director and Dan. They chose the one that felt true to the characters.

Me: Well it did. Really. I love how you've unraveled these insecurities in Jack. Yes, he's very much the superhero dad, but there's flaws too. It's almost as if his need to be almost superhuman is covering for some of those insecurities.

Jack: He's very human.

Me: Yes. As we all are. To be honest, I wasn't disappointed you guys didn't reveal how Jack died. His story is bigger than that one moment.

Milo: It feels a little morbid to me.  And yes, exactly. That's what I tell people. It's not about how he died. It's about how he lived.

Me: Well that's the show. It's about life. That's why I watch.

Milo: (nodding enthusiastically) Yes. Yes.

We say goodbye and I float away because the man could not be nicer.

Robbie Amell and Italia Ricci

I've met Robbie Amell before. I had a fantastic talk with him at HVFF San Jose. We talked Firestorm, our mutual dislike of Jay Garrick and his wedding to Italia. When he heard I was a huge Chasing Life fan, he Facetimed Italia. Robbie is perfection, but this go around I wanted to meet Italia. We had to go past Robbie to get to her though. As we waited, Robbie looked at me expectantly.

Me: You're fabulous Robbie, but I'm here for your wife.

Robbie nodded enthusiastically, completely understanding because OBVIOUSLY, and made a motion to push down closer to Italia.

Me: I could have had Snowstorm babies Robbie. I'll never forgive Barry.

Robbie: (laughs and shakes his head) I know!

Italia was ready for me. Later Robbie. Now... I'm just going to warn you I was not cool. There was no chill. I love this woman. She was dressed in an all white button down and she looked AMAZING. She's insanely beautiful.

Me: (babbling) I adored you on Chasing Life. I was absolutely devastated that it was canceled. So I tweeted out one day that the only way to make it up to me was for you to get cast on a show that airs on one of the Big Four. Then, you were cast in Designated Survivor. ABC for the win.

Italia: Oh my gosh. Thank YOU so much for putting that out into the universe!

Actual human angel. Then, we took a picture and I had to let her go back to Robbie. Sigh. My girl crush is strong.

Panels

Stephen's panel was AWESOME. Best panel of the entire convention. I especially loved his remark on villains and ratings.  Tricia can attest to my excessive fist pumping. Also, the kids asking questions were ridiculously cute.

I enjoyed the crossover panel more than the Arrow cast panel. There were better questions for Caity, Brandon, Neil and Robbie. 

Willa and Katie seemed a bit distracted during the Arrow panel. Also, I was starving so I was a bit distracted.

As always, the best part of HVFF is hanging out with my friends. I am so glad I got to spend time with so many and hope to spend more time with others I missed the next time!

#arrow #david ramsey #stephen amell #arrow spoilers #arrow fandom #olicity fandom #hvff chicago #arrow cast appearances #milo ventimiglia #italia ricci #robbie and italia #spoiler theoretical