#(let me know if the format needs fixing/is illegible/hard to look at?)

[salandition]

Something Amazing

Hop x Reader

A/N: here it is! The first fic in the fake!engagement series. I’ll be writing one fic for Piers, Raihan, Leon- and others, if people request it, but only one fic per character with this prompt. I’m really happy with this one and I think it’s a great way to start the series, so hopefully you all enjoy it, too! Enjoy some good Hop angst!

Added note: the beginning of the story is told in your POV, and then the story shifts to Hop’s POV for the rest of the fic.

———

There’s a lot of ways you could ask this question. Some good ways, some absolutely awful ways- it all depends on how you decide to approach him and how you formed your words. As you’ve found yourself backed against the corner, lacking all other options, you decided that as you ask this somewhat big favor, it needed to be formatted perfectly. The least you can do is make the idea seem appealing in some way, lace it and sprinkle some sugar over the idea to make it tempting. 

But when you’re finally alone with him, the perfect opportunity presented to you, you botch it all up as you ask in the lamest way possible:

“Would you want to get married? To me, maybe?” 

Hop elegantly spits and drops the several important books he was holding, one of them hitting him right in the foot as they fall to the floor. He yelps at the pain and almost falls over in surprise before you quickly rush over and catch him, the two of you making awkward eye contact as you hold him as if it’s a dip for a dance. 

To make it better, you drop him on accident. 

His back hits the floor with a hard ‘thud’ and your hands fly up to cover your mouth as you gasp. 

There were better ways to ask that question, and there were definitely better reactions to said question. You take half the credit for how horribly this went. The other half went to Hop and his lack of grace, because he’s always been like that, and you can’t control his explosive reactions to things. 

Except you know the man well, so you should have predicted he would’ve at least slipped. So, fine, you take two thirds of the credit. 

“I’m so sorry, Hop!” You apologize, and then you apologize again as he groans from his spot on the ground and he fumbles underneath him, holding a book that he most definitely landed on as well, “I’m so, so, so sorry, oh Arceus,” 

“Married?” Hop coughs, sitting up and fixing the glasses that sit on his face. Thankfully, they didn’t fall off- you would’ve felt even worse if that was the case. His golden eyes are shining and squinting in confusion as he looks up at you- “why- why? ...Why?” He sounds like a broken record, but you can hardly blame him as your body deflates with a sigh. 

Why, indeed. 

“You know how I’m from Hoenn?” You offer your hand and Hop takes it, his long and slender fingers almost engulfing your hand in size as you help him off the ground. Your friend nods at your question, beginning to pick up the scattered books, and you quickly move to help him. “And you know how I have really pushy parents who really don’t like that I moved here?” 

“Well, yes,” Hop comments, and he thanks you under his breath as you hand him the books that you picked up. “But that- that doesn’t explain why- married?”

You give Hop a sad look. “It’s not like I’m a fan of it either. My parents don’t control me, and I know that. I moved here for that very reason- to prove that they could never control me. But then some… legal issues came up.” 

“Legal issues?” Hop’s eyebrows raise. 

“It’s all bogus!” You practically explode as a reply, and Hop’s eyebrows raise even further up his forehead and you freeze. “Sorry,” you mumble, your tense shoulders going down as you sigh again. Truthfully, you haven’t been able to talk to anybody about your situation yet, so the stress is starting to pour out all at once and you have to try and reign it in. “I’m sorry I brought it up in such a bad way, too. Can we- sit? For a minute?” 

Hop frowns with a nod and the two of you descend the staircase in Sonia’s lab, heading to the table next to the entrance. Once the two of you have sat down, you explain to Hop as best you can. 

You tell him how your parents both owned a somewhat successful company that’s been passed through the generations, and because it was family-owned, you apparently had responsibilities as ‘heir’ to the company. You refused, moving to Galar just to prove how much you didn’t want to be stuck managing a Pokeball production company, and that’s where the trouble came into place for you. It didn’t matter how far you ran from Hoenn and your parents; because they had signed your name on pretty legal papers without you even knowing it that you would take their place once they retired. You could go all the way down to the place you grew up to talk with a lawyer to reverse those papers and their implications, but your chance of getting sued was higher than winning in court against your parents. You’re also not sure how much you want to go to court with your parents, anyway- the fact they signed something under your name without your consent was wildly illegal, but you don’t have the guts to punish them for it. 

This is where the marriage part came in. Your parents said that if you could prove you had a life in Galar worth living (in their old minds, that was a spouse with a successful job that could ‘take care of you’, maybe some children, or a fancy job you couldn’t get anywhere else like being the god-damn president of Marco-Cosmos or some impossible goal like that), they would take care of the issue themselves and leave you alone. So, that was your situation. 

Get married, move to Hoenn and work at your family’s company, or get sued. And you already told your parents that you were planning to get married this summer. 

When you’ve finally finished explaining to Hop, he takes a big breath and lets it out slowly with an expression that can only be described as a wince. “That’s… Mate, that sucks.” He says simply, and you couldn’t agree more. 

“It does,” you groan with a long frown, your hands folding together atop the white table. “So… I know it’s a lot to ask- but if… If you’d be willing to help me with this, it would mean so much to me. And it’s not like we’d have to be married forever!” You quickly explain to him. “Just until they get rid of those completely-illegal papers. Once that’s done, we can get divorced and go back to being friends like normal.” 

Hop squirms in his seat, humming unsurely as his arms move across his chest. “___, I’d love to help, but…” His eyes go back and forth between you and the wall. “Are you sure you’d want me to help you? You said your weird parents are looking for a successful partner. I’m not exactly sure I fit that description. I mean, if we talked about it, we could probably convince Leon-” 

(As much as it grosses him out to suggest such a thing...) 

You quickly interrupt him before he can even finish. His arms drop from their defensive hold, eyes widening in surprise when you steadfastly refuse.

“No! No,” a nervous fit of laughter escapes you, “no way. I am not marrying your brother, even in this kind of situation. Like, sure, the fancy title of ex-Champion is nice and all, but it’s also… Leon.” You shake your head several times. “No.” 

Despite himself, Hop finds himself laughing too. “Yeah,” he smiles, “that’d be a bit too much for me to handle, anyway.” 

(It’s embarrassing to admit how relieved he is by how much you hate that idea, too.)

“Glad we’re in agreement, then. And, honestly, Hop-” it’s a bit of a bold move, but you reach forward and grab one of his hands as gently as you can. His eyes widen some more and there’s a pretty blush on his cheeks when you do, and you’d tease him normally, but not now. “In my mind, you’re plenty successful. And even if my parents don’t agree- that’s not the point. I’m sure as long as I’m married, they’ll change their minds. And I-” now you’re the one blushing as you finally look away from his golden eyes, “-I want it to be you. I’d- I’d be really… really thankful if it was you.” 

The suggestion- the mere idea of it was ridiculous and outlandish, you knew that. Of course you knew that- but you’re at your wit’s end. This is the last option that you feel could work to get them to leave you alone for good. 

Silence grows between the two of you, along with the tension in the room, tighter and tighter as Hop takes longer and longer to reply. As time ticks away, you grow more aware of the mortification growing in your belly and how you’re still holding his hand- eventually you have to let go as you quickly curl into yourself as best you can and put your hands in your lap. 

...At some point, you’re somewhat convinced that you’ve broken your best friend. He’s probably trying to find a way to tell you he can’t- which- which is fine. That’s fine, and you expected as much. There’s other people you can ask, really… So you’re not disappointed. Not at all. Slowly you stand from your chair, taking a deep breath as you bite your lip. “I get it- it’s definitely okay that you can’t. I should probably go before I make things even worse-” 

At the sound of your voice, Hop jumps in his seat, and he looks up at you with furrowed brows. Quickly, he stands up too- “No- I-” he stutters, gripping his chair so hard that his knuckles turn white, “no, that’s… I can do it.” 

Now it’s your time to stutter as you look at him wide-eyed. “R-really? You will?” 

(He can’t breathe.)

He smiles, wobbly and genuine as a small laugh escapes him. “Yeah. I’ll- yeah, I’ll marry you.” 

In a rush of pure happiness and genuine shock, you jump in place and wrap your arms around Hop’s neck. He stumbles back in surprise, one of his hands wrapping around your back to keep you steady as you almost squeeze the life out of him. “Hop! Thank you- thank you so much!” 

“No- No problem! It’s not a problem!” Hop laughs, his face and ears feeling awfully hot, and his arms slowly wrap around you as you keep embracing him. “Happy to help,” he nervously swallows. 

(Definitely happy to help.)

——— — ——— 

Hop can’t breathe. 

It’s hard to believe any of this is real, honestly. Getting engaged to you- hell, Hop hadn’t even gotten the courage to ask you out on a date, and here he was, engaged. Under unfortunate circumstances, yes, but you’re literally his fiancé. That’s a real thing. Technically speaking. 

It’s solidified when you bring him a ring from your house- a simple silver band for the two of you. For some reason, probably because Arceus wants to laugh at him some more, the ring fits perfectly, and just looking at your matching rings makes his belly do awkward flops. 

Eventually, you’re going to have to fill everyone in on your situation. Which is going to be even worse. Hop makes sure to appreciate the days that pass when no one knows. 

And then Leon comes to visit him at work and he ruins it. He ruins everything. Because like the dunce his brother is, he sees the ring, and he asks, “when did you get a ring?” 

And like the dunce that Hop is, he replies, “when I got engaged.” 

And he’s never felt his soul leave him so fast. An odd feeling that is, really. It’s as if he got frozen from the inside out, no warmth left as he just stands there and wishes that someone would come and push him over so that he’d break and shatter into a million little pieces. Sorry, ___, he couldn’t marry you to help you out with your crappy parents anymore, because now he is dead. 

Except he’s not really dead because he can hear Leon’s hacking and coughing as clear as day from the other end of the lab. 

“Just kidding!” Hop whips his head around fast enough that his glasses almost fall off as he looks at Leon, his face successfully several degrees warmer than it should be. “That was a joke!” 

“No, it wasn’t!” Leon stands quickly and rushes over, and Hop tries to back away but his left hand is already in Leon’s as his brother looks at the ring as if to make sure that it’s real. “It’s on the right finger and everything! Who on Galar are you marrying?!” Leon looks up from the ring to Hop’s eyes, and Hop still can’t breathe. 

“Um- u- um, I- I-” 

“Hey, Hop!” The door to the lab opens. Perhaps, Hop thinks, he really is dead, and this is just the unfortunate afterlife he was shoved into. This isn’t real. Surely that’s not you walking through the door, bringing him lunch like you said you would earlier today, in a text that he had completely forgotten about until this moment, “I brought you lunch!”

Surely not. 

Leon gasps as he drops his brother’s hand, and dramatically, he points at you. “It’s you, isn’t it?!” He asks gleefully, and he looks back at his brother with a big, stupid smile- “when did you-”

And Hop starts laughing, very, very loudly, “___! You brought lunch! Guess who knows about our agreement!” He enunciates the word ‘agreement’ and promptly elbows his older brother in the gut before he quickly runs away and over to you, taking the plastic containers out of your hands happily. “Can you help explain it to him before I go jump off the nearest bridge?” 

He’s not feeling like he’s kidding, but you laugh anyways as you hold up your own left hand, showing it to Leon. “Pretty neat, huh?” You sing happily, and Hop busies himself with setting up the table for lunch instead of focusing on how embarrassing it is that you sound happy to be fake-married to him. Not real-married, fake-married. It’s an important difference. “It’s all a ruse though, as sad as I am to tell you.” Your hand lowers as you place it on your hip. 

“A ruse?” His brother asks, and he walks over and takes your hand just like he did to Hop so he can inspect the ring. 

Hop leans over and smacks Leon away from you with a glare and his brother snickers. 

“Yeah. Hop agreed to help me out, really. I’m stuck in this weird moral decision to not throw my parents behind bars over legal complications,” you shrug, “but getting married is basically what’s going to shove it all under the rug. Long story short.” 

“Huh.” Leon says, placing his own hands on his hips as he stands still, taking in the information. His eyebrow hooks up as he gives Hop a look, “you’re really okay with that? Well, I guess you would be. Y’know, considering.”

“You’re hilarious,” Hop smiles, but his voice is strained and so is the smile. Instead of entertaining his brother further, he sits at the table and you sit across from him, opening your container and digging in. Oblivious to the tension your best friend carries and how he stares at Leon. 

I’ll kill you, he mouths, and Leon smiles in return. 

“Well,” the ex-champion dusts his hands off, “I can see I need to leave the engaged couple alone so they can enjoy their lunch. And other things, probably, that need to be done in private,” 

“Ha HA,” 

“So I’ll take my leave!” Leon heads for the door and Hop lets out a sigh of relief- until his brother points at him, door open mid-way- “I expect you to call me later. Bye, in-law!” 

And then he leaves. Finally. You look Hop’s way, smiling as you take another bite of your curry. “So, looks like we’ll finally have to fill everyone in, huh?” 

Looks that way. 

——

Once you told everyone who needed to know (his parents and your shared friends), Hop knew for sure that he was in over his head when he first agreed to this. Because explaining it- having everyone jump in glee and surprise at the words ‘we’re engaged!’ only to deflate in confusion as you both hurried to say ‘but not really!’ 

You’d think the two of you would have found a better way to explain it, but you didn’t. 

Having to live through it, though- it was dreadfully awful. Not because Hop was saving it all- the genuine, lovely way that his mother first gasped and his father had frozen- the moment in his mind a beautiful picture that he definitely did not think about all the time. Because it’s not like Hop had only dreamed about this happening to him one day, and it’s not like it killed him when he could finally tell his parents that he’d found someone who loved him unconditionally, only for it to all be fake. As if Hop really needed to hand them another reason to be disappointed in him. 

But no, they were proud. They were happy he was helping you. They told him as much. 

But he didn’t forget those reactions. He didn’t forget how their eyes glistened, and he didn’t forget how they shattered. 

Once that was all over, it was established that the two of you would be having a small ceremony just to help convince your parents that this was a real marriage with real love. True love. 

Except you didn’t love Hop, and Hop surely didn’t love you- but they couldn’t know that. So there was going to be a ceremony. 

You and him. A priest between you. Speeches filled with words- fake words, lovingly beautiful hoaxed words. And then you’d put on your wedding rings, and then you’d kiss. 

Married. You’d be married on August 10th. Isn’t that nice? 

A beautiful summer day. 

——

“I do not envy that kid.”

It was shortly after you and Hop had visited Hammerlocke where you asked everyone to meet up for your news that Raihan finally broke the ice. Leon sighed beside him, along with Sonia who was frowning into the cup she drank from. 

“It’s so horribly obvious,” She says. “He talks about them constantly at work. And he’s been a mess this past week.”

Nessa hums, crossing her leg on the park bench she sat on and letting her head fall back as her hair flowed through the breeze. “I guess you’d see it up close, huh? How he’s so head over heels.” She opens an eye to look at Leon. “Have you talked to him? It’s nice that he wants to help, but maybe it’s not the best idea.” 

Leon shrugs, crossing his arms at his chest. “Honestly, he’s grown up now. He knows full well what he’s getting into. But I did call him personally once I found out,” he purses his lips. “His denial is impressive.” 

Raihan laughs as he hangs his head low, shaking it back and forth. “You fucking suck,” he wheezes. “You should really try to talk him out of this.” 

“Shut it!” Leon shoves Raihan who sways just barely, “I gave him my big brother speech, but I’m done now. He doesn’t want me bringing it up, so I won’t. He’s been stifled enough because of me as is.” The ex-Champion picks up his own cup that sat on the table they all surrounded, and he downs the rest of the contents inside. “So he’ll do as he pleases. I’ll be here if it goes south.” 

Sonia hums, her shoe rubbing at the grass unsurely. “If you say so…”

“It’ll be fine. Trust me.” 

“Oh, sorry I forgot to trust the guy who’s never dated anyone before,” Raihan snorts. 

“Yeah but I could nail your mum if I wanted to,”

“I dare you!” 

“I’ve got her number, I could do it right now!”

Laughter fills the park.

——

As the date for your wedding nears, you bring it up more and more. As you would, because even if it’s fake, there’s questions to ask and things to prepare for. Obviously you hadn’t done this before and neither had Hop, so… how do you put together a fake wedding in the first place? 

“We probably shouldn’t invite anyone,” you say as you lean back on your couch, your feet propped up and crossed at the ankles on your coffee table. “Or should we? For pictures? Memories?” 

“Are you sure you’ll want to remember this?” Hop raises an eyebrow at you. He flips the pen in his hand, notepad sitting on his lap. “We’re going to divorce just a few months after it all.” 

“Well, that’s true,” you shrug, “but we’re still getting married. Shouldn’t we make it fun? It could be a party.” 

Hop squirms. “I don’t know,” he says, but his tone makes it clear and you smile at him reassuringly. 

“It’s okay to say no, Hop. It’s your wedding too, you know!” 

“Kind of.” 

“Not kind of. It’ll be legal and everything- we should both be happy with it. So no guests? Or pictures?” 

He bites his lip. He’d like to say ‘let me think about it’, but truthfully, there’s no time. Decisions have to be made now. “It might be weird if it’s just us and a priest. We may as well go to the courthouse if it was just that, so...” he comments softly, and you beam. 

“True! Maybe we’ll just invite a few people. Ten, tops.” 

...Ten is probably around the exact number of everyone Hop knows. He doesn’t know a lot of people. And he already knows everyone you’re going to want to invite- the only people it makes sense to invite- and Hop squirms some more in his seat as he swallows the bile in his throat.

“Sounds good!” Hop smiles instead of vomiting like he wants to. “We should find some chairs and stuff too, then. Order a pizza maybe. No cake.” 

“No cake,” you laugh. “That’d be too much. Maybe we can slice the first slice of pizza together, though?” 

“You better not put pizza on my face.” Hop frowns, and you burst out laughing. 

...He laughs a bit too. He can’t help it when you look so happy and upbeat. He should really be more like you- Hop doesn’t know why he’s so tense. 

“I won’t! I swear. As long as you promise not to do it either- we’re going to be married so you can’t lie!” 

“Of course. I’d never.” He gives you a promising nod, and then his eyes light up as he thinks of something new. “...Should we dress up?” 

“Oh, right,” you hum and look at the ceiling as you ponder. “Well, you would look cute in a tux.”

Hop furrows his eyebrows in worry, “I don’t think I even own a tux.” 

“...Me neither,” you snort. “But we should probably dress up, right? Especially if we invite people. Even if it’s for a pizza party.” 

He can’t believe his first wedding is being described as a pizza party. Probably his only wedding. 

Isn’t that funny? 

“I guess I can see if I can borrow anything from Leon… he might have something that fits.” 

“Great! I’ll look around, too,” and that idea absolutely doesn’t give him more of those awkward stomach flips that he’s been feeling all week. Seeing you dressed up and looking gorgeous as you stand across from him, kiss him? Hop thinks that there’s no way this could end badly as he anxiously fixes the glasses on his face. “Let’s plan more on how we’ll decorate the backyard- we can have the ceremony there! And then we should both get our clothes planned, then the food, and we can ask Raihan to be our picture guy so we’ll have something to show my parents-“ 

There’s no way that this could end badly. 

——

It’s August 10th. 

It’s 9:43am on August 10th, specifically, and Hop didn’t sleep at all last night. Not even a wink. How could he? 

He distracted himself instead. His suit that he borrowed from Leon has probably been ironed 50 times by now, his house is sparkling clean- cleaner than it's ever been, and he even emptied some boxes and threw away the things he’d been meaning to get rid of for months. Hop did possibly everything and anything he could just so he could stop thinking about how he was getting married today. 

It shouldn’t be a big deal. And it’s not. Because, Hop reminds himself again, you’ll be divorced and back to being normal friends in a few months, just like you said. Just like you wanted.

But what does Hop want? 

That’s why he’s cleaning. 

You decided that the party, the wedding, will take place at 2pm. That’s only a few more hours. The two of you spent all day yesterday decorating the backyard, so that was all finished. All you had to do now was step in front of the official looking people and make it... official! 

Easy peasy, Hop says to himself. He’s been standing still, staring at himself in the mirror for the past hour, and it’s easy peasy. 

Then the doorbell rings. 

It doesn’t process at first, so the doorbell rings again, and Hop slowly raises his head at the sound. He looks at the hallway outside his room, toward where the sound came from- and then his limbs go into motion as he walks toward the door. Who could it be? Maybe it was you, wanting to check in with him one more time if he was sure about this, and Hop would say he was definitely sure and then he’d joke that he’s not supposed to see you before the wedding, and then- 

When Hop opens the door, his brother is on the other side, and Hop doesn’t think he’s ever fallen apart so quickly before. 

Honestly, Hop wonders if he broke a record. How fast the tears and snot came, how quickly and harshly he crumpled to the ground- it’s got to be worth something. With how fast he was breathing in, in, in- how couldn’t it be? He definitely broke a record of some kind. 

Leon holds him securely- squeezing Hop to his chest as he follows his sibling to the ground, and he lets Hop sob all over him as he stays quiet. Quieter than he’s ever been, because Leon always has something to say, but not now as Hop cries and cries and cries- loud enough that he’s probably notified all of fucking Wedgehurst that he was definitely sure about this! Absolutely sure, happy to help. 

Happy to give you everything while he receives nothing? Yes. Because his whole life has been like that. 

So why’s he crying so hard? 

Leon’s hand is stable, heavy, and warm as it rubs Hop’s back. The movement is gentle and lulling, and Leon’s chest moves in a hypnotic matter as he slowly inhales deep and exhales just as deeply- over and over until Hop finds himself following along. Following along… he does that a lot. 

The panic spikes up again, and so does the hyperventilating, so they start all over again. 

Over and over, as many times as they have to, until Hop is simply shaking and exhausted as he’s cried all his tears into the fabric of Leon’s clothes. Which, he’s realized, is just a faded hoodie and some track sweats. Despite himself, Hop snorts and croaks. “You can’t come to my wedding if this is what you’re wearing.” 

Except that’s a joke. He can still absolutely come. Leon has to come, and Hop doesn’t care if he’s wearing only boxers. As long as he’s there. 

“Don’t worry,” Leon says as he loosens his hold on Hop, hands moving to securely hold his arms as he leans back and smiles at his brother. “I saved my fancy clothes for later, they’re with me. I had a feeling I’d need to be prepared for something like this when I came to see you. Aren’t I smart?” 

Hop sniffs and laughs when Leon wipes at his wet cheek. “I guess so.” 

“I know I am, you don’t have to say it,” Leon grins, and he grunts as he starts to stand, bringing Hop up with him. “Come on now, up you get. We’ve got a wedding to get ready for.” 

“Does it have to be mine?” Hop asks and Leon wraps an arm around his shoulders, walking them out of the doorway and finally closing the door behind them. 

“Afraid so, Hop. Afraid so.” 

——

Things are still scary, but it’s a bit more manageable with Leon by his side. The crying session was embarrassing, yes, but needed. Leon practically threw Hop in the shower afterward, which was also very needed, and then when he’s finished, Leon had cooked a hearty looking breakfast for them both. Which they demolish. 

It was mediocre and there were some eggshells in the pancakes, but that’s to be expected if Leon did all the cooking. 

Then Hop gets dressed in his suit that his brother lent him and puts in his contacts, and Leon coos and calls him handsome. Hop shoves him, telling him to quit it, but he appreciates it nonetheless. Not that he’d say that, really, but he thanks his brother genuinely for being here with him. 

Leon’s eyes soften at that and he mutters ‘of course I’m here’, and then they move on. 

Time flies a lot faster when it’s not just Hop and his muddled thoughts. Sooner than he’d realize, it was a quarter to 2pm, so it was time to leave. Leon asked him if he was ready, Hop said he was definitely not ready, and Leon laughed as the two walked over to your house. It was a short walk, which was appreciated, because they’re both walking in public with fancy suits on and Hop doesn’t like the looks they get. Especially from that one girl who was walking her Yamper. 

He could kill that girl for looking at him so funny. 

“I can’t believe you’re taller than me now,” Leon says with his nose scrunched up and a frown on his lips, right as they’re about to approach your doorstep. Hop smiles, his ego successfully lifted at his brother's words. 

“That might be the only thing I’m winning at with you,” 

“That’s not true,” Leon shakes his head with a raised brow, “you’re also about to get married. I’ve never even dated anyone.” 

Hop rolls his eyes at that, digging his hands as deep as he can in the silky pants pockets of his suit. “Hardly. I’ll get divorced before you too, so that’s really an achievement I’ll want to brag about to the family.” He scoffs and Leon elbows his side gently. 

“It doesn’t have to be like that, you know.” 

The two brothers are in front of your house now, but Hop comes to a stop when Leon does and he looks at him strangely. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“It means that you’re in love with that person,” Leon looks toward the door, then back at him as he shrugs, “and you love them so much you’re going to marry them in order to help them out. But just because it’s a marriage of convenience doesn’t mean it can’t turn into something different.” 

Hop frowns at that. He hadn’t ever entertained that idea, and that was on purpose- he doesn’t need to get his hopes up, only to be crushingly disappointed. “We haven’t even dated. It’s- it’s ridiculous to stay married, even if they felt that way toward me.” Again, his brother shrugs. 

“Is it? Sounds awfully convenient to me.” 

“And so the marriage of convenience stays convenient… right.” 

“But it’s true!” Leon laughs, “look, I’m not going to act like I know what I’m talking about. I don’t. But don’t let this crush you. Everything has the opportunity to turn out amazing.” He places a hand on Hop’s shoulder, holding it securely as he looks into Hop’s eyes. Gold meeting gold- the two are practically identical, but so different. 

“Hop. You’re my brother, and I love you. And as your brother, I’m going to tell you something very important,” Leon leans in close, and Hop does the same. “You can make this into something amazing.” 

And then he slaps his brother’s shoulder, making Hop cry out in shock from how hard he hit with a look of betrayal on his face and Leon throws his head back with a barking laugh. The laughter is loud enough that you finally open your door, seeing the two brothers shoving each other on your doorstep, making you raise an eyebrow. “Look who it is!” You smile, their heads snapping toward you. You hold a hand out for Hop- it takes him a second to realize it’s for him, and when he does, he shyly takes it and you tug him toward you. “My husband-to-be and my brother-to-be. It’s about time you showed up.” 

Leon smiles brightly at you, skipping to meet you with a kiss on the cheek which you return. “Good to see you! And I heard there would be,” Leon lowers his voice, “pizza?” 

You meet his serious gaze, nodding firmly. “The best in town,” you tell him, and Leon whoops as he moves past you and Hop to enter your house. 

Beside you, Hop remains quiet, and it’s not until you squeeze his hand that he jolts in place and looks down at you with wide eyes. 

“You’re looking handsome,” you smile at him and Hop almost combusts. Why are you holding his hand, anyway? He’s sweating buckets. 

“Y-you too! Great- you look great. Really good. Better than me.” 

Hop sucks. 

But you smile even wider anyway, your own cheeks heating up in a beautiful way. “Thank you,” you say gently, and all of Leon’s words of advice from his apartment has flown right out of his head. Instead, it’s just- 

You’re in love with that person and you love them so much, you’re going to marry them. 

“We should head inside, before the great Champion becomes Champion of eating all of our pizza.” You break through his thoughts, tugging on Hop’s hands as you make a step to go inside. Normally, Hop would follow you right away, but he freezes as he holds you tighter and keeps you from leaving. His eyes are wide, and you give him a confused look. 

It’s a miracle he doesn’t stutter, but he sounds desperate as he asks you, “are you ready?” 

The question makes you stop in your tracks, and you grow quiet as you look up at Hop. He frantically searches your eyes- hoping to find an answer in them- and he wonders if this is how you felt when he went quiet when you first asked Hop to marry you. 

But then your blush deepens on your cheeks again and your eyes grow soft as your thumb gently swipes the top of Hop’s hand. “You know… I think I am. You?” 

A breathless sigh leaves him. Along with it is all of his ghosts, fears, and doubts- because suddenly Hop feels so much lighter. “Yeah,” he says, nodding just to solidify his answer more. “Yeah, I think I’m ready too.” 

The two of you enter your house, smiling and blushing, and the door closes behind the two of you. Ahead of you waits the beginning of something complicated, weird, and amazing. 

Hop thinks it’ll be amazing.

He really does. 

[omegangrins]

Chibnall, Children, Choice and Consequence

Allow me to introduce a companion piece to A Treatise on the Doctor:

It's pretty simple:

Chibnall knows what he's doing and is playing a long game to show how the Doctor needs to take more responsibility.

Let me start off with my favorite examples. That's right, plural.

Every single villain 13 faces is never defeated, merely pushed away from causing them any immediate problems. Tim Shaw being the prime example.

1&10. Seriously, Tim Shaw. Her plan was to use his own bombs on him and then teleport him off the planet. Even without Ranskoor Av Kolos, the Doctor should have thought to check in on him. Especially after The Ghost Monument showed the Stenza were a greater threat than she knew. She still hasn't even checked up on WHAT THE HELL THE STENZA ARE! They sound worse than Daleks but naw, let's go rain-bathing in the upper tropics of Canstano instead.

2. Ghost Monument. We saw the END of an interuniversal race. What the fuck is the beginning that got them there? Who is Illyn and how and why did he orchestrate a super race?

3. Krasko. Sent back in time. Really, Doc? Not gonna take a look at the device and see where Ryan sent the prick so you can double check that he's not gonna cause anymore damage?

4. President Trump analog. Ooooo, you looked at him menacingly, Doc, that'll show him!! Not like he's gonna KEEP DOING ILLEGAL SHIT LIKE THIS.

5. The Pting. She literally shunted it off ship to be dealt with by someone else BUT DOESN'T GO BACK TO BE THAT SOMEONE ELSE ONCE SHE HAS HER TARDIS. That's like leaving a living nuke floating around after sweeping it under the rug while you fly off to Paris.

6. The Pakistani-Indian conflict still happens and millions still die. Not her fault but still....

7. Kerblam. Sure, Charlie's terrorism was solved but not the underlying problem that led to it. Humans still can't work because corporations like profits over people.

8. Similar to the Punjab, how you gonna solve sexism, classism and all the -isms?

9. WHY WAS THE SOLITRACT THERE IN THE FIRST PLACE??!! It's been around since before the universe. Why'd it decide to come back now? It's a whole universe trying to hug our universe to death. Maaaaaaybe we should check out why.

11. She's gets a pass on the Dalek. Fucking impossible to eradicate them.

12. The Master!!! Finally she checks up on something after the adventures... and it's horrible. With everything gone to shit in her absence. Seeing a pattern yet?

And Barton? And the Cassaven? They didn't disappear into smoke.

13. Multiple Earths being multiply fucked. Remember when I said the Doctor couldn't solve racism, classism, sexism, or any of the other -isms? Starting to look like she needs to TRY.

14. The Skithra FLY OFF after getting hit by a laser beam. That kind of thing tends to piss people off. Even if they're idiots using other's technology.

15. Jack. The Judoon. The Ruth Doctor. All things I'd start checking out if I had a time machine BUT

16. WE CAN'T cause the TARDIS emergency alert is going off and we need to hurry up and run and solve this problem before we run out of time in our TIME AND SPACE MACHINE. Leading to another problem the Doctor could help solve but won't. Plastic and over-consumption.

17. Oh yeah, let's trap two Eternals from another universe in the same place. There's NO WAY that could ever turn out bad.

18,19,20. And again. Cyberium. Pushed off Shelley onto herself and onto Ashad and onto The Master.

That's almost 20 "enemies" the Doctor still needs to deal with.

Oh, not to mention that they let UNIT go defunct because they didn't have the forethought to ask if they needed any money in their alien fighting budget. After asking for an office, a desk, and a job. Kinda funny that way, aren't they?

I hope by now you've gotten the idea that this is VERY deliberate. This is Chibnall laying down some very heavy pipe to smack the Doctor like a clothesline. There isn't a one of these situations that can't come around to bite her in the ass.

Barton, Roberts, Skithra. These are all very loose strands for a time traveller like the Doctor to get tripped up on. Chibnall's past episodes prove it. They're all about the Doctor learning how to take responsibility.

42: The Doctor almost gets Martha killed and almost gets himself killed trying to fix it.

The Hungry Earth: The Doctor (a thousand year old "adult") tells Elliot (a 10 year old kid) that "Sure it's totally fine to go get your headphones while we prepare for an approaching unknown alien force." And 11 rightfully gets his ass chewed for it by the child's mother when the kid goes missing because OF COURSE THAT'S WHAT HAPPENS, JACKASS!

Cold Blood: I could write an entire essay about the Doctor's guilt over the Silurian/Human conflicts they've witnessed, but I don't need to. Because every single Silurian centered episode written in the new era is from Chris Chibnall. And you can feel the sad knowledge of Classic Who spill through. He KNOWS how many times the Doctor has fucked up with the Silurians (about 8 times in television format. And it's rough everytime. Rough.) and he writes those episodes like an apology on behalf of the whole human race. And the Doctor. You know why people are put off by Warriors of the Deep? 5 releases a gas that melts the Silurians. And though it's cheesy, the idea and execution is still horrible.

Add to that if the Doctor hadn't stopped to check the crack, then Rory wouldn't have waited and been around to be shot then absorbed by the time crack.

Power of Three: An entire episode about how the Doctor has a problem slowing down and really taking account of the lives of their companions.

Dinosaurs on a Spaceship: The Doctor actually tries to be responsible and pick the right people for a job. For once. But gets angry when they realize it's too late and there's another bunch of Silurians they failed to save. Classic!

Like I said, if you can't see the pattern, you're not paying enough attention to your responsibilites.

Which leads me to the why.

When you fly around time and space for thousands of years, you develop a few duties of care along the way. In every situation, you're the oldest. Technically the only adult in terms of experience. You have a responsibility to act a little less rude and be a bit more aware than needing cue cards to tell you that you should be sad about things around you. And that's the purpose of 13. She's unlucky but learning. Like 12 telling himself something with his face he couldn't say out loud, 13's instincts are leading her to a new place for the Doctor: being a caring, responsible person. Not so much laughing hard or running fast, but being kind. It's the one thing they recognized as a problem in themselves when seeing 1. Being a Doctor is about being kinder than that. Just because you HAVE to saw someone's leg off, that doesn't mean you can't wait a little and comfort them before you do it.

You wanna know what gave me every faith in Chibnall showrunning Doctor Who? 13 staying for Grace's funeral.

Do you understand how unprecedented that is? This is the same person who never said Goodbye to Jo Grant as she got married and fucked off into the night. The same Doctor who said, "I don't do domestic.", did it with Rose a regeneration later, and then closed himself off to everyone but a married couple he felt guilty about who ended up birthing his wife. Have you any idea the number of funerals the Doctor should have the common decency to sit through? This many.

So for 13 to stay around for the death of a woman she has only just met and not only that, BUT call out Ryan's father for not doing the same, it shows tremendous character growth. It's taken millennia but they're still changing.

Something similar happens with Rosa and The Witchfinders. Realizing that there a lot of companions who have been in situations that are sometimes worse than aliens, but they still manage to make it through. So she needs to buck it up and persevere for everyone else.

That's where her anger comes from, and really it's one of my favorite traits on her. It reminds me of 7. Someone impossibly old and impossibly kind saying to hell with it and at least having some fun with the evils who drag us through the universe. And just like Cartmel planned for 7, 13's past will come to haunt her.

That's where children come in. Most of us are crying babies to the Doctor.

There's this thing you notice most in British shows about answering the question directly as asked. Someone says "Are you sure?", you answer "Sure". That's a direct acknowledgement that you heard the question, understood it, and processed it enough to respond in a manner directly correlating to the question asked. Yas and Graham got it and said "Sure" but Ryan missed it and said "Deffo". This is like Elliot with the headphones. The Doctor should have immediately been like, "Okay, Ryan, it's obvious that you're still dealing with the trauma of your grandmother's death and probably not processing things on a logical level. I said "Are you sure?" Not "Are you deffo?" Because we are most definitely not deffo, Ryan. Graham, you wanna help here?"

I'm being sarcastic for points sake but you understand the idea. The Doctor knows better and has a responsibility as such. She should've really sat down with Ryan and Graham and seen if there was a better way to process their grief.

Because I'm fairly certain that "Deffo" is gonna lead to Ryan's death and Graham's cancer resurging as time cancer (I don't know what time cancer is. I just know it's bad.)

And that is gonna piss Yas off. Which will give you all that character you think she's missing (she isn't. Her character is in her subtleties and silences.). That's WHY her character is a police officer (like how does no else see that the man who wrote Broadchurch wrote an inspector character companion?) Imagine you're Yaz and you see the Doctor flying around in a big, magic box that says POLICE. As a fellow officer, you're gonna expect some basic safety protocols.

Like do a background check on everyone flying in the TARDIS to know whether they're stable enough (mentally, physically, emotionally) for time and space travel. It's no picnic. These people are going to go through hell. A little vetting and planning like Time Heist or Dinosaurs on a Spaceship goes a long way.

Secondly, full fucking disclosure.

"Oh. I can't die because I change my body. Oh. I have arch enemies that will try to kill and torture us any chance they get. Oh. My home planet is full of the biggest assholes in the universe and I'm including my arch enemies."

Third, police like to do this thing called "check-ups" where they go back to the scene of the crime in order to see if there is any more information that can be gleaned which you might not notice when you are busy running around trying not to be killed... Like, the Doctor has the perfect machine to do this with, but nope. Adventure done, run to the next place!!

These are all things you'd expect any reasonable person to do and say when taking others flying off into time and space and "helping". Even if they are an idiot passing through and learning. Especially when you consider the Doctor is vastly older and more experienced than everyone they encounter. They SHOULD know better. And they've got the lifespan to slow down. It's not like they need to be in a hurry because they're going to die at any moment like humans. The Doctor could easily stay for tea and it would be less than a drop in their lifespan.

Now, as usually is the case when I make these theories, I have a parts 1,2,3,4 and 6. There's allways this 5th piece I miss but I manage to get at the end.

But the 6th piece is the Timeless Child. The Doctor isn't a Time Lord anymore. They're not beholden to those people and ideas anymore. Even moreso, those people basically raped her childhood for their own gain so it's not like you'd really listen to them and their "policy of non-intervention".

I'm sensing a coming Trial of a Time Lord season (even believing these two seasons are the opening statement and preliminary evidence of the trial itself) wherein the Doctor finally gets the turnaround 6 deserved. A Trial of the Time Lords, if you will.

"In all my travels through time and space I have battled against evil, against power-mad conspirators. I should have stayed here! The oldest civilization: decadent, degenerate and rotten to the core! Power mad conspirators? Daleks, Sontarans, Cybermen — they're still in the nursery compared to us! Ten million years of absolute power: that's what it takes to be really corrupt!"

This is what it's all coming down to. Chibnall's takedown of the Time Lords. And The Master is going to play the most crucial role of all.

They're going to be revealed as an Ux alongside the Doctor and show how the only constants they have in this universe are each other and it's about damn time they work together and tell these high collars to eat Schitt while they explore every star and planet they can find.

Come on, the episode is called The Timeless "Children". If it was just the Doctor it'd be called "The Timeless Child". The Master says as much with the misdirect line, "built on the lie of the Timeless Child." since we see two kids playing in that flashback.

"Since always. Since the Cloister Wars, since the night he stole the moon and the president's wife, since he was a little girl. One of those was a lie, can you guess which one?"

Now we know which one was a lie, we know the Master HAS known the Doctor since they were a little girl. THAT little girl...

But this is all just speculation. It's not like Chris Chibnall could have been thinking about this for the past 40 years and was given a blank slate to do whatever he wanted for five years on his favorite TV show. If y'all want to think he took those reigns and is choosing to make things worse...

Well then you don't know much about responsibility.

I'll let the man himself tell you about it.

"Very early in my career,” says Chibnall, “someone told me that you learn more from a failure than you do from a success. And then I lived out that phrase for a year in Los Angeles. I learned that I would not work that way again or be put in that situation again.” The essential lesson was: “You either have to be in total control of a show or working with people who share your vision and will work with you to achieve it. Also, never work with 13 executive producers.

“Camelot was the classic case of too many cooks. It wasn’t a harmonious set-up and I think that does manifest itself on screen.

“I had a fantastic cast but you have to be free to tell the story you want to tell in the way that you want to tell it. What ended up on screen was not what I wanted and so it is a blemish on my CV.”

Credit to @thirteenthdoc

“You immortals - so entitled, so spoiled. You never clear up after yourselves and you always leave stuff lying around.” - Thirteenth Doctor in Can You Hear Me?

[savysavannah]

Challenge 1

Special thanks to @damian-schreave and @hadleyjaneharper for the rps.

Also the last section is not in fic format because its 2am, im lazy, and you get the gyst from the RP. Apperantly this is too long so part 2 soon.

    The Prince was off in Paloma for a bit so we were of little use in the Palace, no idea why they had us move in so early. Therefore, I’d spent most of the day with some books I’d grabbed from the library. Primarily they were legal books since it never hurts to brush up. But every once in a while, such as now I’d need to go and grab some food. 

I brought my notepad and a book on contract law with me and walked into the kitchen. There was another girl also in the kitchen. We haven't spoken to each other, she didn’t seem unfriendly or particularly awful company, just hadn’t really had the moment to. I grabbed a plate of fruit and wondered if she would say anything. After a moment I sat down and resumed reading. 

Then a small sad sigh came from the young woman who was looking down at her phone with a sad face. It wouldn’t be too bad if I took a break for some conversation. However, the young woman looked troubled, she may not be in the mood. I yawned and stretched then mumbled, but loud enough for her to hear, “God, I could use a drink.” and wondered if the other would take the bait. 

There was a beat before the other spoke, “Long day?”

“More or less. Lots of reading, missing work. How about yourself?”

She shrugged “Its...different than what I’m used to. Lots of sitting still when I’m used to spending my days moving around.” SHe grimaces then sighed, “The adjustment period is always the toughest, though.”

I thought for a moment trying to remember the occupations of the selected, “The dancer?” I asked. 

She grinned “Yeah. Hadley.” She raised an eyebrow, “And you?”

“Lawyer.” I said and stood from the table, walked over to Hadley and held her hand out, “Savannah Mars, Labrador, three.”

She shook my hand, “Nice to meet you.” then thought for a moment, “You said you were missing work? Do you work at a law firm?”

“Kinda. I work for the Illean Civil Liberties Union in their legal division. It's a non-profit which focuses on civil rights and for me civil legal cases. Lgbt+ rights defense, domestic defense, that sort of thing.”

“Oh, that’s really cool.” She said, seeming actually interested in my work. “Are you missing the casework, or something else?”

“It's pretty hard for me to step back from my work. Since I'm kind of left worrying about my clients. A new guy took over my cases but I'm trying to still work in my own way by studying up on some legal sections I work in less frequently but still may come up. Such as contract law.” I explained not fully hearing her other question. 

She nodded, “I understand, sort of. I’m left worrying about how my ballet company is going to perform, with somebody else taking over the role in the Nutcracker that I’ve had the past few years.”

“Yeah the transition really is nerve wracking. Have you seen them perform though?” I asked hoping that could at least provide some solace. 

“I’ve seen pictures on Instagram, but no videos yet. We were just finishing up our performance of Cinderella when I left. Nutcracker rehearsal started a few days after, but it’s a show we do each year, so... “ She sighed “ It /should/ be fine.”

I nodded, “well if they assigned them the role try and have faith in their qualifications. That's what I'm keeping in mind for mine. They did go to law school so it's fine. They got the role so it’s fine.” I said partially for her and partially for me. 

She sighed a little hesitant, “Yeah, you’re probably right. Competition is just gonna be a bitch and a half when I’m sent back.” She chuckled wryly.  

“Well maybe you'll win and then you won't have too. Who’s gonna take a role away from the future queen of Illea.”

“That’s extremely unlikely to happen.” She then almost smirked “What about you? If you win, nobody’s going to tell you no in a courtroom.”

I laughed, “If I win I'll kill myself.” Then I realized how dark that sounded, though it didn’t seem to phase her.

“I hate to say that I feel the same way, but…” She shrugged and nodded, “I feel the same way” For a moment I was confused, why would she join if she felt the same way? Then it clicked, a dancer would be a five, lower class, need the money.

“You're a five right? Did you apply for the money? If you don't mind my asking that is. It would just make sense why you'd dislike to win.” 

“It…” She bit her lip, “Kind of? It’s a long story involving a deadbeat mom, a shitty health care system, two starving artists, and a kid with leukemia.” She said with an apologetic smile. Whatever she’d be apologizing for I can’t say. 

“Well shit man, I'm glad you got in then. Both for the money and for a break from that. I know this society fucking sucks and we've got a likely shit for brains hier, but if you ever need a lawyer I'm here to help. Hopefully, being a three now will provide some help for you too.” I said then caught myself making a mental note to not be so vulgar with my language. 

She gave me a small smile, “Thanks. Now I just have to figure out what I’m doing with the rest of my life, after throwing my career into dance, only to become a Three.” She laughed, “What about you? Why did you enter? It sounds like you had a pretty cushy gig going on.”

It wouldn’t be smart to tell the truth, but lying when Hadley had been so open felt wrong, I sighed and said, “My brother. Basically he forged my entry and I didn't want him to get into legal troubles for that. He's a fucking idiot.” I sighed and let that last cuss word slide as he is a fucking idiot. 

She snorted, “Men really do only have two brain cells.” She gave a small smile, “I’m sorry that you ended up in that situation, though. That’s rough.”

“Yeah. I tried to beat him up but my other brothers stopped me. It was really a mess. Had to find out from a waitress asking for a photo with me.” 

She shook her head, “My best friend told me that he was so upset to see me, “throwing my life away,” as if I hadn’t entered to help him and his brother.” Sounds like an ungrateful ass. She sighed and looked down at her fruit, “When did life get this messed up?”

A question with too big of an answer. A bit panicked and not knowing what to say I took a strawberry off my plate and held it out to her, “Fruit?” 

She chuckled and took the strawberry, “Thanks.” She takes a bit, chews, and then pauses, looking at Savannah, “You know what I could really go for right now, though? A good gin and tonic.”

“God that'd be great. You know what, let's make some. One glass can't hurt.”

She shrugged, “Sure, sounds fun. I’m down.” She looks around, “I know they keep the wine in that cabinet, but I haven’t found the liquor yet.”

After gathering our ingredients we get to work making the glasses, “so, what's your plan in all this?”

“In the selection?” She raises an eyebrow and then shrugs, she starts pouring things into the mixer bottle, “Stay here for as long as I can so I keep making stimulus checks, and then get sent home before I’m stuck spending the rest of my life here.” She finishes pouring and looks at Savannah, “You?”

I sighed, “about the same. Give the money to the non-profit I work for. I was hoping I could root for you to win, you seem like you have a good head on your shoulders to influence him, but the more I think about it the more I realize that's like damning to hell.

She snorts, “Well, I still appreciate the compliment, and I would’ve said the same about you.” Then she sighs, “I’ve always known that it’s been like this, though. He gets to squander every penny he has on luxury shit, whereas my paychecks…” another sigh, “But life isn’t fair.”

“Yeah. And then waste the money on useless shit and trying to pass dumb laws like making 'cats' illegal instead of actually fixing the problems in this country.” I said and poured myself a glass of the drink.

She poured some for herself and then shook her head with an eye roll, “Don’t even get me started on that debacle. Why even joke about things like that?”

“Because he doesn't comprehend how the people of his own country are suffering. He's just so blind with privilege. Not that I have much to speak on but at least I freaking try to think about others in the country and their situations.”

She gave me a small smile, “You didn’t seem like the type to blow your money on worthless things to me, at all. I don’t even know what I’m going to say to him when we have that interview in a few days.”

“Yeah I think im just gonna be polite for the sake of not causing a scene that'll haunt me my whole life” I said and took a sip, then clarified, “polite though, not kind.”

She nodded then drank too, “I really went from putting on one type of show for Twos to another.” 

“Any idea what you're gonna do as a three?” I asked.

She pursed her lips and shook her head, “I haven’t taken a science or maths class since I was eleven, and I don’t have the money for university. I guess I could work as a translator, or if that doesn’t work out, marry a five and go back to dancing.” She took another sip of her drink, “Hopefully I’ll be here long enough to figure it out.”

“Do they not have like threes who are dance teachers? I haven't really looked much into the area myself but it may make sense.”

She shook her head, “For me, at least, it was mostly Russian immigrants who were former dancers themselves, so Fives.”

I thought for a moment, “Well if you ever need history lessons, english, or legal aid I'm around. I dug into my pocket and pulled out a business card, since it’s not like either of us plan to be here long,  “Just all the way up in Labrador. Where are you from again?”

“Allens. So, not too far. Thanks.” She replied and looked at the card.

“Welcome.” I replied, finished off my drink then wrote down another idea. 

Hadley narrowed her eyes curiously, “What are you writing?”

“Just an idea for a proposition with the ICLU. There are probably other girls in a similar situation as you being lower caste now upper be it through marriage or selection, it may be helpful to talk about implementing a caste readjustment program.”

She lifted her head, smiling just a little, “That sounds like a great idea.” Then a little quieter she added,  “I'd appreciate it.” 

“Hopefully my boss will agree and pass it onto the innovation department. I'll write a quick memo about it to her later.” I smiled happy to have something to do.

“You really love your job, don't you?” She asked. 

I nodded, “It makes me feel like I have some kinda purpose. As cheesy as that is to say.” Making actual change in Illea instead of just prancing around doing whatever else I could have grown up to do. 

“No, I get that.” She looked down, “As a kid, I never really felt like I belonged, but on the stage, dancing?” She looked a little distant, “Standing out was a good thing.”

I nodded,  “Mhm. Have you thought of ways you could continue working while at the palace?”

She smiled, “Actually, I had a conversation with Prince Eaton about that, and I’ve been able to work out a schedule that allows me to still practice, even though I have to do a little more work to catch up on lessons.”

“That'll be good. If you wanted too you could put on a performance and donate the profits. That way you could be working towards a goal too instead of general practice.”

She tilted her head, “That's an interesting idea. I’ll keep that in mind.”

I nodded, “Well it was nice meeting you, Lady Hadley. But it is probably time for me to get back to work.” Then held out my hand to shake goodbye.

She took it, giving it a shake. “Nice to meet you too.”

It was pretty late in the afternoon by the time I was escorted to the interview room. Damian was in a navy blue suit jacket, dress pants, and a white button up shirt. He smiled at me as I got closer.  His eyes flicker to my nametag for a second before he speaks, “Hello, Lady Savannah. It’s a pleasure to meet you in person.”

I smiled trying to stay polite, then gave a small curtsy, “The same to you, your highness.”

He smiled back, taking a few steps back and gestured for me to go into the interview room. In the room is a sofa, surrounded by stage lights and a few cameras, what a romantic first meeting. There is one camera on a swivel stand, that is currently focused on Damian and I. He starts walking into the room, looking at me as he talks, "How have you found your first few days here, so far?"

I debated giving him a short one word answer of 'fine' but Danny's words of 'don't ruin your own happiness" slipped into my head. "They've been fine. I've enjoyed your library. It's helped me feel like I can in some ways continue working by catching up on legal matters normally outside of my areas of expertise."

He nodded while smiling then took a seat on the sofa, "So you're a lawyer, then? What kind of law do you practice?"

Reluctantly I sat next to him, hopefully I wouldn't catch an STD from proximity alone, "Yes, I practice primarily civil and criminal law with the Illean Civil Librities Union. So primarily defending people who are in bad situations due to outdated laws which need amending." My tone came out more passive aggressive than intended, but it was slightly justified as he should have been working to amend said laws and help people instead of partying.

"That's a great thing, to be doing. What got you into law?"

"Well I was at the University of Labrador. My best friend I'm the sorority I was in decided to go to a protest over women's rights in illea. We went, someone man came and antagonized some women, she defended herself verbally, got arrested, felt up by the officer, then was unable to do anything legally about it. I felt that was unfair so I decided to look into being a lawyer, liked the process, graduated in 2 years, went to Yale and here I am." 

He lets out a low whistle, looking down for a second. I couldn't help but be a but prideful at my accomplishment, then looks back up at me, more serious than before, his jaw tense, "I'm really sorry that happened to your friend." He said and fell silent. What a conversation killer. 

"It's fine." I said trying not to dwell on it, "How was your time in undergrad? Partied a lot, I saw." I said the passive agressiveness coming out again. 

He smiled, a little more relaxed than before, but not as relaxed as he was when he first entered the room, "I enjoyed my last few years of freedom before entering the real world, yes." He then raised his eyebrows, grinning a little wider, kind of teasing, "And what about you? Being in a sorority and all, I doubt you were much of a homebody yourself." 

I couldn't help but completely flush and bit down my urge to absolutely smack him upside the head. "It was a brief phase. It was fun. But also a waste of time." I chuckled a bit remembering my airheaded behavior in that year, "had I already been working harder I may have been able to finish faster and help more people."

He grinned a little at how flustered I was, which just made me want to punch him more, then smiled a little more genuinely towards the end, "We're still young. We have our whole lives to keep fixing things."

i frowned, "That isn't true. We never know when we're going to die. Something could always happen so we should be trying to help as much as we can. Not to mention while we" I paused after my slip of the tongue, but didn't correct it "partied in undergrad people were suffering who could have been helped."

There's a flicker of a frown on his face when I mentioned how short life is, but he lets it go, tilting his head when he looks at me, "We can't save everyone. That's impossible. We can try to do as much as we can, but there will always be more people in need of help.

"Partying isn't trying."

He raised his eyebrows, "You didn't even know you wanted to be a lawyer, back when you were partying in college."

I got kinda flustered again, he's right, there's no logically sound way to win. Yeah but I should have, I wish I had. Would have made the time a lot less regrettable." I said then cleared my throat, "Though, this is a bit of a heavy topic for our first meeting, don't you agree? Your- Damian." I barely corrected myself from saying Your Highness.

He chuckled, "A bit, but it's different from the surface level talk about work and provinces." He inclined his head, "Though, if you think about it, you never would have discovered your passion for law if you hadn't joined your sorority." He shrugged and gave a stupid grin which made me blush even more. 

Finally I snapped and turned to point a finger at him, "You won okay. I can't regret something if I didn't know to do something better, but that doesn't make topless jello shots any less of an embarrassing memory." I exclaimed then heard what I said and wished to curl into a ball and die. 

He chuckled a little, "We all have our moments. It's okay."

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door then, and a guard pokes his head in. Damian nods at him, then turns and looks at me, "Unfortunately, we'll have to exchange stories another time. It appears our time today is up."

I sighed in relief at my rescue, then mumbled under my breath, "Thank God." I stood to curtsy, "Your-" I cringed a bit at the error, "Damian."

He chuckled again, "It was a pleasure to meet you Savannah. Until next time." He smiled at me when we got to the door, and stopped in the doorway.

I smiled back politely, "Thank you for the conversation. Till next time." 

*savy was taking a break from her work and decided to out for a walk in the gardens. She had always been a fan of taking runs when stressed snd the gardens were providing a peaceful alternative. She was walking around when she thought she saw a bunny in the bushes. Being the gal she is she wanted to see it closer so she stepped off the path and walked into the gravel. Immediately her heel sank in the gravel. She lost her balance for a moment but didnt fall. Instead she panicked. She debated stepping out of her shoes to get it out but she didnt wanna hurt her skin on the gravel. Instead she tried to wiggle it loose and hopped no one was near*

*rip savannah, but Damian is out distressing by playing basketball at that point in time, and from where he's standing as he shoots this basket, he can see someone clearly struggling with something in the gardens. he can't see who it is, or what the problem is, but he figures he should go check it out. he tucks the basketball under one arm, jogging towards the person he can see, calling out* Hey, everything okay?

*savannah hears him call out an knows immediately it's the last person in the world she'd want to find her like this* Absolutely peachy! *calls back and debates ditching the shoes*

*he slows to a stop when he gets closer, his eyes going from savannah's face to her foot* Mmm, looks like you've got yourself in a bit of a sticky situation, there.

*is extremely flustered* no situation at all. I said I'm fine. *aggressively wiggles the heel and almost trips so she squeaks but manages to catch herself*

*when he sees her almost trip, he lunges forwards to catch her before she hits the ground, but then she catches herself, so he's like "oh was that for nothing?" he looks down at the shoe, furrowing his brows, thinking* Here, let me help with that, before you actually fall.

I'm not going to fall and I don't need your help. I'm perfectly capable of defeating some gravel on my own

*he takes a step back* Alright... if you insist... *hes not going anywhere, just watching her, waiting to see what she'll do*

*huffs when she doesnt hear him walk away and continues to wiggle then huffs when shes not getting anywhere* Fine. If you're just going to stand there anyways you may as well help.

*he chuckles, setting the basketball down on the ground, kneeling down to look at the gravel and the heel, before beginning to dig the heel out with his fingers* Not the best shoes to walk off the path in.

*rolls her eyes* I didn't think about that. I thought I saw a bunny and got distracted

*he can't help but raise his eyebrows at that, grinning, twisting the heel a little to unscrew it from the gravel* Was it at least a cute bunny?

*his tone is a little teasing*

It was cute, be careful with your tone though when your face is near my foot. *once its free she steps back on the path so she doesn't sink again*

*he chuckles, joking* What, are you planning on giving me a royal nose job with your shoe?

You could probably use one. *offers a hand to help him stand back up*

*he picks up his basketball, taking her hand, still grinning at her, teasing* Maybe it's just the angle you've been looking at it from.

*stands on her tiptoes looking at his nose* Nope. It's a little off. Nose job it is.

*she pinches his nose* its a big flaw. Doubt you'll be able to get a wife like that

*he chuckles* I don’t know, my nose has never gotten in my way before

*considers* You're right, I'm sure that was just your sense of responsibility that got in the way.

*he raises his eyebrows* You know, I’ve never turned in an assignment late, or anything for work late. Never asked for an extension.

I somehow find that doubtful. Your reputation of being a loose partier precedds that of a responsible duitiful person.

Well, it’s the truth. *he shrugs* If you’re really curious, you could email my professors. It’s all about finding a balance. *he smiles*

*grumbles because he seems to be honest about it* What did you even study?

I dual majored in political science and marketing. You?

*sighs in relief* at least you werent a buisness major. Political Science and History for me on a prelaw track.

*he nods, smiling, genuinely curious* Did you prefer one over the other?

Probably political science. I mean I love history it's why I added it. For fun since it's just like learning stories and seeing the modern day impact of said stories. But political science felt more efficient. Like it helped me have a better understanding of the philosophy of political thinking which has helped me a lot in law. Plus I just liked the professors more.

*he smiles* Understandable. Good professors make it so much easier to learn the content

*smiles* yeah and lots and lots of highlighters. Did you have a favorite topic in political science?

*grinning* I took a really cool course on comparative political economies - I really like the economic side of things. That, and the classes I had to take on international politics. *he looks over at savannah* What about you?

Probably civil politics. I've always been a fan of civil work. I honestly thought about working for the AFEI instead of the ICLU but decided I wanted to do more personal legal work than policy legal work. But it's always been the work that has interested me more since it's important to bring up civil conflicts within the country and try to help as much as possible. But learning about where we came from in terms of The United States vs the civil policies of Illea was an interesting course for me, especially because of the overlap of History and Political Science.

*he nods as she talks, thinking that all over* I think work guided what classes I liked as well. Because beyond national politics, I also have to think about international politics, trade agreements, and maintaining Illéa’s position in the world.

*seems slightly surprised* so you actually liked your major? I assumed you just were kinda forced to pick it

I was kind of forced to, but I could still pick the classes that interested me more. *He shrugs* Plus I really enjoyed my marketing major.

*thinks for a moment* Can I ask you something and have an honest answer? No bullshit PR answer. I'm just trying to figure out if we can trust you to be our future king through this, at the very least.

Sure *he nods, pursing his lips a little* Ask away.

Do you actually want to be the king of this country? Like aside from the perks you have from it, do you care about the work?

I do care. *he pauses, swallowing* I really do. It’s just...it’s a lot of pressure to accept from a young age.

*she thinks for a moment* Noted. Thank you for your honesty. *Looks at the basketball* Do you play much?

*he smiles kind of sadly* Not as much as I used to. I’ve gotten a little busy helping to run the country, and such.

*gets an idea* Do you wanna make a bet with me?

*he grins* Depends on what it is

Basketball. I'm working on a program right now with the ICLU, a coworker wants to come visit me and discuss about it but appreantly work visits aren't allowed during this. If I can get more hoops in you'll arrange that?

*he furrows his brows* Better yet, I could just organize for your coworker to visit under the guise of another event going on. Just give me a few weeks to work out the details.

*kinda chuckles because shes competitive* oh? Youre scared you'll lose? But if that's what you prefer

*he laughs* No, I just know I’d win, and I’d hate to deny you the ability to see your coworker

Fine. You'll set up the meeting, then I'll just prove to you that I would win had their beem stakes.

*he narrows his eyes at her, extending a hand to shake, still grinning* Deal

*shakes it firmly then kicks off her heels planning to walk to the court barefoot.* Would be an unfair advantage for me to still be in them

*he raises his eyebrows* Why, they helped square up the height difference between us, at the very least *he chuckles*

*almost elbows him over that but barely stops herself* I don't need that help. I'm perfectly capable of crushing you independent of my shoes

*he laughs* I played basketball in uni, you know?

As did I. Well- not in a club. A guy who I was *ponders for a moment* acquainted with, played it therefore I played with him and his friends fairly often

*he raises his eyebrows* And how tall was your acquaintance? Because I’m used to playing with people my height, but also my mom and sister, who are - *he puts his hand somewhere around his shoulder because they’re 5’4” and 5’5”* - about this tall

He was around 6'3. His friends the same or more. Don't worry I'm well aware of the disadvantage of my height and very prepared to utilize it

*he chuckles* Oh, I’ve got to see this. *when they get to the court he starts dribbling the ball casually, walking towards the middle of the court* Do you want to start with the ball, or should I?

*thinks for a moment and puts her shoes down on the edge of the court and rolls up the bottoms of her dress pants a bit* You can start with it.

*he raises his eyebrows at her rolling up her dress pants, but he nods* Okay, if you insist. *he waits until he’s ready before starting the play*

*she walks up prepared to steal since she cant block*

*he starts dribbling more seriously, quickly maneuvering around her, taking three large steps with the ball, and then shoots a basket, and it goes in*

*she kinda huffs about that dislikes. But once he has the ball again she tries again, this time getting it and doing her UNDER THE LEGS MOVE AND SHOOTS*

*he turns around, a little in shock* That is not a legal move!

Hmmm *puts her finger to her chin very smug* I dont think it explicitly says in the rules that you're not allowed too. You use your height I'll use mine *VERY SMUG*

*he narrows his eyes* Fine, best 2 out of 3? Whoever gets this next shot wins, then

*SHES BEING COCKY NOW* Aw is the wittle princey calling it quits so soon? His fragile ego damaged? *bats her eyes teasingly*

*he narrows his eyes* Fine, best three out of five, then. *he starts dribbling the ball right from here he is, and it’s a long shot to his basket from there, but he’s pretty confident, so he goes for it, and somehow it actually goes in. he raises his eyebrows at her* Still think you’re gonna win?

*crosses her arms* That was luck. *goes to get the ball since shes closer*

Or just sheer skill. *he smirks a little*

*turns to face him just to roll her eyes and gets the ball. She then dribbles it back to the middle or something idk how basketball works*

*he follows her to the middle, standing in front of her, knees bent in that “ready” position idk wtf it’s called lmao*

*that position makes knees wide so she dribbles and goes to do her fast under the leg move again*

*he sees it coming this time, and takes a few steps back, keeps his arm in front of him to reach for the ball, which he gets, and then dribbles across to the the hoop he has to score in, taking the shot, and watching it go in again. he grabs the ball as it bounces back up, raising his brows at savannah* One more, or are you good? *he grins a little*

*huffs again and crosses her arm* Fine we'll call it at 3 to 1. But in my defense it's been awhile.

*he grins* Well, you’re always welcome to practice out here with me, if you want.

I can't tell if you're being taunting or not *rolls her eyes and walks up to him then holds out her hand to shake for the end of the game*

*he takes her hand and shakes, then gives her a genuine smile* No taunting. I mean it. I’d love to have someone new to play with.

I'll consider it then. I am getting slightly bored of your homes running path for exercise.

*smiles back even tho she doesnt wanna because it was a nice offer*

*he tilts his head from side to side* Yeah, the running trail through the gardens is kind of short. There are better ones /in/ Angeles, if you ever want to check them out

Not sure I'm allowed to just waltz on out of here, but I'd love the names of any you know. My grandmother lives near her so I'm sure I'll be visiting soon enough after this if not immediately so.

*he shrugs* I could also drive you sometime, if you want. I /do/ have a car.

*seems a bit surprised* You know how to drive?

*he furrows his brows* Of course! I got my license as soon as I was legally allowed to.

But its not like you need too? Don't you have like drivers?

*he looks a little confused and taken aback* I’m sure some exist, but why would I want someone else to drive me when I could be free and drive myself?

I'm not sure. I just know rich people, like for example my cousin *mumbles for a moment to find the phrasing* So my grandmother is in charge of the Mars Candy Corporation. My mom's older brother Nathaniel will be taking over it, his kids also my cousins all have drivers. They're like twenty something now but Jackson is always bragging about how he doesn't have to take the effort to drive himself places. I just assumed other people who could afford them would have them, especially busy people who could work instead of drive.

*he blinks* Wow, I never even would have considered that. *he shakes his head* No, I like driving. Being able to roll the windows down and blast the music...it’s like a few moments of freedom. *he shrugs, smiling a little sadly*

*she noticed the smile then something clicks* so freedom is your vice. You act out to feel free, thus the partying. You mentioned earlier the responsibility of being a prince being am influence on the partying. A lack of freedom makes sense. *she knows shes getting too personal but her curiosity and worry for the future gets the best of her* But what does that mean you're going to do when you're king? You'll have even less. How do you plan to maintain that restriction without bursting and needing freedom?

*he stiffens a little at her analysis because damn it’s spot on, but sighs towards the end* Getting as much out of life as I can now. I always knew what my future held for me. So I can plan accordingly. *he forces a small grin, trying to joke* Besides, with any luck, I’ll be old and almost out of energy by the time I’m king.

*furrows her eyebrows concerned* That doesn't work. *sighs* Believe me I'd know. But we aren't wired to run off memories. Instead we develop habits and coping mechanisms. Everyone snaps from time to time, you'll go back to what made you happy last. For you I assume that'll be partying. Which is something you can't do as king, and assuming it wont be till your old isn't right either, regardless of if that was a joke it's not something that you can lean on since millions of people could be relying on you and you'd be unprepared. You are going to be king, You are not going to have freedom, you are going to be under immense pressure and responsibility, honest answer, what are you going to do when you need to snap?

*he narrows his eyes at her, this time more out of irritation than anything else, and he’s a little sarcastic* Gee, thanks for the reminder. Though, for the record, I /haven’t/ partied since uni, and I have no plans to in the near future. So perhaps I’ll rely on my other coping mechanism, such as basketball, or taking a drive.

Yeah well it's the truth and uni wasn't that long ago. It's hard to break habits. I mean I partied like 4 times a month in undergrad and I still use it. That was forever ago but that's not how humans work. You're gonna lean on what you've leaned on. You're going to get shitfaced, you're going to want what you used to have, you're gonna idolize those times in uni and want them back. But you're not going to have it and it's going to be hard and shitty but you have to tough it out because of the country that relies on you and this is proving to me that you're not going to be a reliable King for the people who need you.  

[the-y-generation]

Not My Type (Chapter 7)

Chapter Summary: What happens when complacency starts to creep in? The two encounter a close call that sheds a light on their…arrangement.

Pairing: Jimin x Orginal Character (I personally just haven’t written in Reader format, but barely even mention the character’s name)

Genres: Slowburn, some angst if you squint, friends with benefits, friends to lovers

Rating: M for this chapter

Status: Ongoing (Masterlist)

Author’s Note: I hate to be that person, but if you liked this or the preceding chapters, I’d appreciate it if you can share with me some feedback. A comment, or even just an anonymous message would be great! I just want to know what you think. And also, if anyone could tell me how to do the “Read More” feature on the app, that would be great.

Time was a weird thing when on the road. Life was not dictated by 9-to-5 hour work days, nor weekdays and weekends. Instead, it was chaptered by cities, hotel rooms, and media appointments. It was bookended by sold out shows, deafening crowds, and plane rides.

Days tended to blur into weeks, and weeks into months. Despite the unpredictability of every new city and each new crowd, some things could be depended on to remain the same. Monday teleconferences with Manager Sejin. Templated answers to recurring interview questions. Cold fast food dinners in dressing rooms.

And Jimin. 

It was surprising how easily they fell into a so-called rhythm with their new arrangement. One would have thought it would be strange and awkward, but they managed to keep the lines between the professional and private. No one was any the wiser. 

Studies show that it only takes 28 days to develop a habit. And seeing as they had crossed that line several times over, it was safe to say that they locked in several habits at that point - their subtle exchange of spare hotel room keys. Joint showers during the mornings after (with the occasional shower sex when she had her period. Who would have thought that Jimin didn’t mind that sort of thing?). Their sleeping position with her fingers in his hair, and his head on her chest.

Without meaning to, their physical aspect of their private relationship slowly bled into the public and professional. Nothing big, at least not often enough to be noticed, but it made Anna’s heart stutter every time she caught herself. 

They started out with small things, like Jimin ordering her a cup of coffee in the morning without being asked. Or her fingers lingering a beat too long when fixing his collar. Or Jimin reaching over to tuck a loose lock of hair behind her ear whilst in mid-conversation with Taehyung. Or her hands kneading soft circles on his nape when she’d catch him wince during or after a show, feeling for that knotted muscle that needed to be uncoiled. 

Small things that shouldn’t mean anything. And they don’t,  or so she tried to tell herself. If the rest of the boys or any of the staff caught on, none of them said anything. 

Taking their silence as ignorance, the secretive pair grew complacent. Naturally, as was the order of all things, it came back to bite them in the ass. Or in this case, stab them in the back.  

They were normally a lot more careful and in control. But for whatever reason, Jimin had decided that the sight of his road manager in a red A-line skirt was too much to bear.

In his defense, he tried hard. Really, Jimin tried so hard to keep it locked down throughout the day. 

But he found himself seething in the morning, during one interview when he caught a glimpse of a cameraman double taking on her ass. A red coil burned in his chest, making acid flow through his veins. He remained silent and stoic throughout the rest of the interviews, which was thankfully, not too uncharacteristic of him.

Things only got worse in the afternoon, she took Hoseok’s offered elbow to steady herself as they descended a flight of stairs. Jimin was right there, right next to her, yet she opted to take his hyung’s arm instead. Granted, it wasn’t like he offered while Hoseok explicitly did. But still, she could have said no and gripped his elbow instead.

But the final straw was in the evening. Jimin snapped right after soundcheck, when she passed by him in the dressing room to talk to Jin. Already second nature to her, she had absently caressed the exposed back of his neck, fingers instinctively curled to scratch softly at his hairline. The feel of her nails gently scraping his skin caused something in his gut to snap.

The next thing either of them knew, Jimin managed to lure her out of the room unnoticed, down the hallway, and into an empty stockroom. With the final shred of his sanity, Jimin flicked the door lock secure before roughly pushing the confused girl against the nearest wall.

“What are-” She began to ask. But the question was immediately drowned out, yet also answered, by his mouth descending upon hers.

Jimin caged her in his arms like a starved man, gorging on her mouth and neck while letting his hands find purchase around her waist. He held her to him tightly, almost as if he could fuse their two bodies together with sheer force. 

“Jimin!” She panted when he released her mouth, diverting his attention to sucking gently at his favorite spot under her jaw. “They are going to come looking for us.”

The delirious boy just hummed, not paying much attention to logic at the moment.

“You need to-” She took a deep breath, and bit down a moan, vaguely aware of the sounds of activity rustling on the other side of the door. 

“Fuck, what are you doing to me?!” She gasped, thoughts quicjly disappearing with every flick of Jimin’s tongue against her pulse point. She gripped his waist hard, already itching to feel his skin against hers. “You NEED to finish wardrobe and makeup.”

Jimin finally resurfaced, flashing a ridiculous boyish smile at her. How he managed to look like an angel, despite the sinful things he made her feel, should be considered illegal.

“We have time.” He grinned smugly, pressing a playful kiss against her lips.

“You’ll be late.” She growled back.

“Do you really think…” He paused, lifting her unceremoniously by her thighs, to wrap her legs around his waist and pressed her firmly against the wall. “That I can just go on stage with this?”

By this, he referred to the raging hard-on he was rotating into her warm core, unconcealable by his skin-tight pants. She groaned at the feel of him against her aching core, immediately flushed with the need to have him complete her.

“Why do you have to wear skinny jeans all the damn time?” She sighed against his plump mouth, diving in to capture his bottom lip between her teeth. 

Jimin chuckled against her lips, moving his hands to support her weight comfortably yet allowing his fingers access to her moist center.

“Jimin, we shouldn’t do this here.” She whined unconvincingly against his ear, trying her best to hold in an embarrassing moan when his thumb brushed against her receptive bud. “We’re on the clock.”

Jimin frowned against her mouth, which did not go unnoticed by Anna. He hated whenever she said that (not that he’d ever let her know). The Clock was the concept that kept things in clean black-and-white compartments. When they were On The Clock, they were simply road manager and artist. But when they were Off The Clock, they were two best friends who often liked to secretly fuck. 

One section wasn’t supposed to cross into the other. Yet here they were anyway, an hour before showtime with her legs around his waist and his hand under her skirt.

“Do you really want to stop?” Jimin mumbled against her skin, already making his way down her neck. 

Then, without warning, he pulled back to look her in the eyes. The seriousness underlying the desire in his gaze took her breath away. “Just tell me ‘no’ one more time and we’ll do as you say. Full stop.”

But one look at him - with his black hair gorgeously disheveled, lips swollen from her moist sucks and nips, and pupils blown wide with need - and she was an absolute goner. Logic took a backseat as her desire took over, making her skin overheat and her blood rush through her veins.

Plus, he had a point - he couldn’t just go on stage with a hardened length tenting the leather pants his stylist planned for him to wear tonight. It was practically her duty to help him rid of his want to prevent a scandal.

As a form of response, she pulled him in for another fervent kiss, urging a moan from the back of his throat. It vibrated from his tongue to hers, causing her to smirk against him. His sigh pushed into her throat, and suddenly, Jimin was everywhere. His mouth, his hands, his entire body warming hers.

“We need to be fast.” She panted into his mouth. They momentarily broke apart as she climbed off his waist and helped Jimin tug his Chanel shirt off. He stepped away from her to undo his belt and lower his pants while she pulled off her soaked underwear from under her flowy skirt. Then they came together again, bodies magnetized to be as close as possible. 

She still had her dress on and his pants pooled messily around his ankles, but they didn’t have the time to fully strip nor did they find it in themselves to care. Jimin lifted her up and wrapped her legs around his waist against, groaning when her slick, wet center pressed against his firm length.

A whisper at the back of her mind chided her at the circumstance’s complete lack of class. Nothing says “fuck buddy” more than a quickie in a closet. But the way Jimin held her gaze as he pushed into her shushed the nagging voice, releasing a velvety hiss when she dragged him in.

“So good, baby.” He murmured, pressing forward until he was completely sheathed in her. “So beautiful.”

She gripped his shoulders to support herself, basking in the glow of his compliments and adoring gaze. Jimin paused for a moment, allowing her to relax and adjust as he didn’t have time to stretch her out beforehand. Her clothed chest pushed against his with every deep breath she took, and a twinge of regret pricked at him as he wanted nothing more than to splatter sloppy kisses over her breasts. 

“Move now, Jimin.” She pulled him out of his reverie, gyrating her hips as best as she could to signal her intent. “We need you to finish fast.”

Ever obedient, he set a punishing pace, pounding in and out harshly like a madman chasing sanity. She could only grip him tighter to steady herself, biting her lip to keep from moaning out too loudly in pleasure, while Jimin muffled his groans against her shoulder. They were far enough down the hall that hardly anyone would come look for them here. But she didn’t want to take the chance of having an innocent passerby hear the lewd sounds of their actions inside the tiny room.

With both of them trying so hard to keep quiet, the sound of skin slapping against skin seemed to reverberate through the room, punctuated by the lewd squelch of her wet center every time he pulled in and out. Somehow, it just made things feel even more erotic and sensual, hearing the way their bodies moved together.

Heat blossomed at the pit of her stomach as he rammed into the right spot over and over again, making her all the more drenched for him. Her nails dug into the expanse of his muscled back, but Jimin was too far gone to register the sting of the scratched skin. 

Her thighs began to quake around him, but as much as she wanted to hurtle over the edge of ecstasy, it wasn’t about her right now. 

“What do you need, babe?” She muttered when his glazed eyes met hers. He twitched inside of her, and she could tell her was close. “Tell me what you need.”

“So close.” Jimin panted against her open gasping mouth. He darted his tongue out momentarily to brush against her lower lip. “I’m gonna…fuck, need to cum. Where?”

He was barely coherent, trying so desperately to hold on to the last shred of restraint to get her consent. She nodded, brushing the hair from his fucked out eyes.

“Mouth.” She responded, already beginning to unlatch from his hips. “Can’t have you dripping out of me, not in this skirt. Too hard to clean up.”

Jimin groaned at the thought of their joint desire slicking her thighs for everyone to see. But she snapped him out of it as she gently pulled his length of out her. They both shivered at the loss of contact, mouths meeting in a searing kiss.

He maneuvered them quickly in the cramped space so that they switched places. He leaned back on the wall as she descended on her knees and took his throbbing length in her hand. Short of breath and already weak in the knees, Jimin simply peered down at her, heart racing in anticipation for his impending release. 

She stroked a few times before guiding his length into her awaiting mouth.

“Fuck.” He cursed at the feel of her hot, wet mouth enveloping him. He shut his eyes in an effort to hold on to some restraint, gasping when she licked a thick stripe underneath him. 

“Not gonna last long now.” He confessed, looking down at her, as a coil of need quivered dangerously in his gut. She nodded, understanding what he meant, what he needed from her. She braced her hands on his muscled thighs as Jimin gathered her hair in one hand, keeping it out of the way.

Then he thrust into her mouth, gently at first so as to keep her from gagging around him. But every stroke, he increased speed and pressure, easing her into the pace he needed to release.

But he was close, so close, that he didn’t need to take long. Sure enough, with just a few strokes, the coil in his navel snapped and Jimin came undone. Her throat tightened around him as he came at the back of her mouth, urging him on. She watched him let go, taking in his desire and reveling in the wonder in his eyes.

He quivered as she swallowed around him, hissing at the tight heat of her mouth. He whimpered when she moaned around him, the sound vibrating through his sensitive length.

When he was done and had gone soft, Jimin pulled out of her mouth gently and lifted her back to her feet. Unsure of his strength, he pulled her against him, wrapping a loose arm around her waist. She reached up and embraced him by the shoulders, calming him with soothing caresses on his neck.  

As he caught his breath, Jimin bent down to gently brush a hand at her reddened knees, making sure no dirt on the floor had stuck to her skin. Then he pressed a kiss to her damp forehead, which she reciprocated with a kiss to his equally sweaty cheek. 

They stood there for several long moments, taking each other in and leveling their breathing back to normal. The electricity in the air slowly fizzled out into a gentle static that made the air warm and soft around them.

Once the buzzing under her skin quieted down, she noted his satisfied, fucked out expression and smirked. Jimin, on the other hand, still seemed a little dazed at what had just happened. So she reached over to pull up his underwear and pants, and tucked his softened length in for him.

Jimin hissed and twitched from oversensitivity, but let her complete the task. She chuckled at him, rubbing a teasing hand down his bare back.

“You didn’t come.” He spoke, breaking the silence once his lungs started cooperating. 

“It’s okay.” She smirked at him, wrapping an easy arm around his slim waist. 

Jimin frowned, but she had anticipated his reaction. He always made a point to ensure they were both satisfied each time, so this would mark the first time that only he reached his peak. 

“I’ll take care of you later.” Jimin promised, bopping her nose with his.

Giggling at his affectionate gesture, she gently pushed him off. “We need to get back. You have a show to do.”

Jimin nodded and retrieved his shirt, while she slipped her underwear back on. When they were fully clothed again, she reached up to help him fix his hair.

“You surprised me today.” She whispered, trying to wrestle a particularly messy patch on the side of his head where she unintentionally gripped a bit too hard when he grinded against her earlier. “What brought this on?”

“I like you in this dress.” He mumbled, suddenly shy at his confession. Jimin averted his gaze, hands resting easily on her hips as she continued her ministrations.

“You’ve seen me wear this dress a million times already though.” She laughed, fingers still in his hair. 

“Doesn’t mean you’re any less attractive in it.” Jimin admitted, flicking his dark eyes to hers.

Neither of them pushed the conversation further, suddenly aware of how much time they had left. 

“You should leave first.” She said, stepping away from his body once his hair was back to a somewhat decent state of disheveled. At the loss of his body heat, the room suddenly felt too cold. “It might look weird if we come back at the same time.”

Jimin didn’t reply, only nodding to give his agreement. He placed a gentle hand on her neck, turning her head left and right to make sure her skin was unblemished. Once he was sure, he ducked his head to plant one last kiss on her lips, before swiftly exiting the room. 

She counted off 3 minutes in her head, praying that no one needed her for anything important in her absence. Listening to ensure the coast was clear, she exited the room too, hyper aware of Jimin’s scent on her skin. 

Nobody noticed their absence, save for Jimin’s makeup artist who was all too used to his frequent tardiness. The show came and went without a hitch, and true to his promise, Jimin satiated her need that night. Twice, to make up for it. 

They got away with their backstage rendezvous. Or so they thought until 2 days later.

It was early in the morning. The whole band and most of the staff were having breakfast, with everyone taking their time before they had to check out of the hotel and board their flight back to Korea. The boys were huddled together in one table, while Anna was enjoying her meal with the stylists in another.

Suddenly, a loud wracking cough boomed through the room, causing her to turn in search for the source of the noise. It was Namjoon, double over his plate, clutching his phone in one hand and smacking his chest with the other. From her place, she watched Jin slide over a glass of water, which the other boy quickly took and gulped down. 

With his cough settled, the road manager deemed the situation handled and turned back to her table mates. But just under the cluttered noise of the room, she overheard Namjoon say “Jimin, check Twitter.”

There was something in his tone, curt and definitive, that piqued her interest. Call it intuition, she couldn’t ignore the prickly feeling in the pit of her stomach that whatever Namjoon wanted Jimin to check wasn’t great. And if it was bad news, it was her responsibility to inform the upper management. 

Curious, she opened her Twitter app to see if anything was happening on social media. Sure enough, Jimin was trending worldwide yet again. She clicked on the hashtag and, seeing the top trending tweet alone, she dropped her phone on her plate.

Her hands shook and her heart raced, a million worst case scenarios zipping through her brain at a hundred miles per second.

Social media was abuzz because of a circulating photo of Jimin during his Serendipity number. It was taken during the part of the choreography wherein he goes down to do a body wave on the floor. The photo was zoomed in, focusing on him alone. The back of his shirt had ridden up, exposing the majority of his back. 

His pale, near-ivory back, marked by angry red scratch marks.

Her scratch marks. 

Fuck.

Scrolling further, she found that fans were speculating what the marks were. Some hypothesized that they were scratch marks from allergies (they’re wrong). Others surmised that they were from sex (correct, but oh shit). The latter of the two popular theories was causing an internal debate amongst Armies, resulting in several follow up questions as to whether or not he was seeing someone, and if they should be angry about it. 

Heart hammering in her chest, she turned around to check on Jimin, only to find him already look back at her. His face betrayed nothing, still calmly chewing his food. But his dark eyes were stormy with uncertainty. 

Her attention was ripped from him at the blaring of her phone. It was Manager Sejin. The older man had seen the trending topic as well, and was calling to check on Jimin. He was leaning more towards the allergies theory, but still asked if he was seeing anyone.

Her blood ran cold and she gulped in panic, managing to stutter a neutral response about asking Jimin. Thankfully, Manager Sejin didn’t push the subject, content with the reassurance that the vocalist was okay. 

“Just ask him to post something about it, okay?” Sejin reminded before cutting the line. “It would reassure the fans. You know how some of them get.”

By the time the phone call ended, she realized that the band had already left the dining hall. One of the stylists explained that Namjoon had called for a band meeting, so they disappeared into someone’s room. 

Knowing it was best not to disturb them, she headed back to her room and tried not to think the worst of it, already going through several possible excuses and contingency scenarios to share with Jimin. It was not lost on her that one possible route was to call it quits on…whatever the hell they were.

But her heart seized at the realization that perhaps this may be the end of her and Jimin’s arrangement. Her breath let her lungs and her pulse raced as the world seemed to spin around her.

I’ll miss you.

She shook the thought away before they went further, chastising herself for being paranoid. 

She didn’t see them again until check out time, when the boys came down to the lobby with their bags in tow. Her eyes instinctively sought Jimin’s, but the alarm in his brown eyes warned her not to approach.

He didn’t mouth any words to her, but his thoughts were written all over his face. She froze on the spot, realizing what he was trying to tell her.

They know. 

Before she could formulate an escape plan, Namjoon blocked her path to the Concierge.

“Can we talk?” The band’s leader said. It was posted as a question, but his tone implied it was an order.

He gently led her by the elbow to a secluded corner of the lobby, far enough out of anyone’s earshot. For a long, tense moment, neither said anything. They stood face to face, but the tall man couldn’t even look her in the eyes. The awkwardness was written all over him, from the way his arms crossed over his chest to the way he nervously tapped his foot.

A tense quiet settled over the pair, the atmosphere so thick it was practically a fog, and she hated it. Hated this moment that Namjoon was walking on eggshells with her when he was her first friend here. 

“So, you know.” She broke the silence, deciding to forego politeness. There was no need to lie and prolong the awkwardness. 

Namjoon sighed in relief. “We know.”

She didn’t immediately respond, unsure of how to approach the subject. Namjoon didn’t seem too eager to elaborate on how they came to know either. 

“What now?” She asked, opting to simply move forward.

Maybe it was the helplessness in her tone, or the ridiculousness of the whole situation. But his gaze softened, and finally looked at her again like a friend.

“Look, here’s the thing.” He began. “This is a weird situation that none of us have been in before. But at the end of the day, you’re both adults and what you do behind closed doors is entirely your business. As long as you keep things professional, which you have, we’ll support you.”

She couldn’t help the smile that took over her face, and she immediately jumped up to embrace the man. But he quickly cut her off, dousing her relief with a warning hand on her shoulder, 

“But you two have to be more careful.” Namjoon continued, his tone taking a dangerous turn. “This time, we can brush this off as Jimin having to scratch himself because of an allergy or insect bites. But we might not be so lucky next time. And you know how the Army can get.”

Absorbing the impact of her words, she nodded in understanding. 

“If they ever find out the truth about you two, there’s no telling how they’ll react. We’ll always have your back, but you know there are things we can’t protect you from.”

“I know,” She replied, placing a hand on the leader’s arm. “And I don’t want to compromise you guys either. I won’t be the stain on your record.”

Satisfied, Namjoon offered her a fist bump and led the way back to the larger group. She finished checking them out of the hotel while the staff helped the boys load things in the awaiting vehicles. 

As she wrapped up the transaction at the front desk, she felt a hand on her lower back. Instinctively, she turned, already knowing whose gentle touch it was. 

Though wearing a face mask that covered half his face, Jimin’s ever-expressive gaze gave him away. 

We’re going to be okay. 

[heartslogos]

mafia!verse: the wedding [1]

There are social events that hold personal, and social, significance and power. They bring communities together. They provide avenues for bonding and exchanging information, exchanging money, exchanging blood.

Society uses these occasions to build. To grow. To war.

And during these occasions nothing is more important than hospitality. Civility. Propriety. The following of certain accepted social agreements and unspoken rules. The covenant of neighbors, of social hierarchy, of class.

Birthdays are an example of such an important occasion.

The classic tale of Sleeping Beauty illustrates exactly why this is so important. A child is born and everyone comes to wish the happy parents well. The parents invite everyone of import.

But everyone knows that there’s one person who wasn’t invited. And whether or not they would have accepted the invitation is irrelevant. What matters is that no invitation was offered.

One does not slight someone of such power and importance.

Now, the Wayne family isn’t made of fairies. There’s too much talent for iron and its various formats for that. But at least two of them are so rotten not even death would take them.

Another such occasion with as much importance that would require the same amount of respect and healthy handling of such societal niceties as a birth is a wedding, which usually precedes a birth by about eight to nine months depending on how close that shotgun is to someone’s head.

Weddings are important things. They’re the start of something. They’re the end of something. They’re the making of something. They are the destroying of something.

Weddings bring people together. They end wars. They start alliances. They usher in peace. They can start feuds. They can start grudges.

And the Wayne family was not issued an invitation to this one.

Dick Grayson drives up to the security guards posted all the way down at the end of the street, parking his car right there in the damned center of it and knowing not a single person present — security guards, people who also happen to unfortunately live in this affluent suburban neighborhood, reporters, police — is going to stop him.

The man’s an angel to end all angels.

The word end is used in its most literal, finite, and apocryphal sense here.

Man’s got a smile like a morning star, you could call him Vesper. You could also call him by the other name, too, but you’d get more of a laugh than anything.

He smiles that devil’s smile and the security guards falter. Most do.

Dick Grayson adjusts his suit, and turns to the sound of another car. Dark cherry red coming to a smooth stop next to his.

“Jason,” his eyebrows raise as the car doors open, “Tim. You came together?”

“Yup,” Jason answers, jerking his thumb towards the passenger side as it threatens to swing closed on the occupant. “Timbo over there’s having a day. I felt like being decent and giving the man a ride.”

“Feel like being decent and helping me out of the car?” Tim calls from the other side. Jason leans against his side of the car, making no move to go help. Dick shakes his head and goes to help.

“Having a day are you?” Dick asks, holding the door open so Tim can swing his forearm crutches out and pull himself out after them.

Tim Drake was supposedly assassinated on live television four or five years ago. Supposedly. Rumor has it that it was all staged. To make the people who saw that video feel sorry for him. To get the negative press coming from outside of Gotham off his back. To get people who do want him dead to lower their guard so he could surprise them by popping back up when they least expect it.

Jury’s out on whether he was really shot or not — several thousand witnesses, a still somewhat visible bloodstain right out front of W.E., and a box of evidence in the police department vaults aside. But he’s been using the crutches on and off ever since and no one’s got the balls to challenge it to his face.

“Yes.”

“And Jason just so happened to be around to give you a ride?”

“I might have been there already as the day was progressing towards crutches territory,” Jason admits, making a motion for them to get a move on so he can lock the car.

“Oh? Anything I should be worried about?”

“We were bonding,” Jason says, “Right, Replacement?”

“It’s fine, Dick,” Tim ignores Jason and starts to swat Dick’s hands away as he tries to fix Tim’s hair. “What are you doing here?”

A motorcycle snarls in the rapidly deceasing distance.

“It’s a family gathering off the manor grounds,” Jason groans, “Ode to joy.”

Cassandra’s black monster of a motorcycle comes to a perfect stop, next to Jason’s car.

She flips the visor on her helmet up, examining all of them before resting her eyes on Tim.

“Bad?” She nods towards the crutches.

“They aren’t for the aesthetic.”

Before anyone can say anything about that, one way or the other, a final car comes by. It doesn’t park, it idles as its passenger leaves the back seat, before slowly reversing and turning itself around to drive off again.

“What are you all doing here?”

“Attending a wedding,” the four of them answer, eyeing each other and Damian.

“Alright, I’ll bite, did anyone here get an invite?” Jason says, “Raise your hand if you feel excluded from the block party that literally everyone was invited to.”

Four hands raise. Tim whacks one of his crutches against Jason’s tires to cast his vote.

“I heard Vale was invited,” Damian says as they all stare at each other.

“I’m sure our invitation was lost,” Dick shrugs, “I bet they didn’t know who to address it to. There’s six of us, after all, and most of us are never at the manor.”

“Such optimism.”

Cassandra points at the closest security guard, making sure he’s met her eyes before she points at her bike.

“If this has moved,” Cassandra says, “I will remove you.”

She does not wait to see if this is understood. She turns around and starts to take off her leather jacket, revealing a black undershirt.

Cameras flash. The reporters who didn’t get a chance to pass security know better than to ask questions, and to be content with whatever pictures they can manage.

“Shouldn’t you be hiding your face?” Jason gestures towards the flashing cameras as the four of them move to somewhat obscure their sister from the flashing lights. “Might look bad for you if you’re seen crashing a wedding.”

Tim’s smile to the cameras causes a riot of flashes that are now solidly directed and him. It looks so menacing in its niceness that it would make sharks look like herbivores.

“Don’t be silly, Jason. I own those reporters.”

“Tim, Tim, Tim,” Dick chides, “You can’t own reporters. Owning reporters is owning people and that’s slavery. It’s been outlawed.”

“Slavery is illegal and wrong,” Cassandra says from where she’s standing a bit off from them, pulling out a neatly folded dress shirt from her bike’s storage compartment and doing it up. “Damian, do my tie.”

Damian sighs, “Yes, Cassandra. You’d think that you’d know how to tie it yourself at this point, considering all the other knots you know.”

Dick points at her as he slings an arm around Tim and Jason, drawing them in together earning a grumble from Jason and an irritated eye roll from Tim, “Exactly, Cass. Besides, there’s something more powerful than owning a person.”

Cassandra and Dick both turn at the same time to face the cameras directly in a sharp snap.

“You can own the face of their fear.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Jason passes a hand over his eyes. “You’re the goddamned worst. I don’t know why I bother. Alright. Let’s get this shit show on the road.”

Dick smiles at the guards.

“You don’t need to see our invitation, right?”

Damian doesn’t wait, he brushes past the guards and starts walking towards the house with the white ribbons on its tall stone wall.

“Our invitation is the fact that we are Waynes, and all the money used to pay for this wedding came from our graces,” Damian says, “And frankly, I would like to see such graces return with some measure of gratitude.”

“Agreed,” Tim adjusts his grip on his crutches as he moves forward, parting guards without any resistance. “This union wouldn’t have happened without my influence and I would like some minor acknowledgement of that. And there are some people here who’ve been annoyingly persistent in how hard they are to reach.”

[skysquid200]

Convin biker AU, I hear?? 👀👀👀

Okay so. 

I may have had a sudden burst of inspiration and wrote 3k worth of a Convin biker AU. I’ll for the most part just throw down my sad attempt at understanding biker culture and basically keep everything the same. This also means that you’ll have to deal with how messy I make my outlines and notes for fics (as well as the random tense changing). So, enjoy I guess! Also this is also heavily inspired by the song, Low Beam by Her’s. (which, by the way, is such a Connor song and I could probably make a separate post on that)

Connor and Richard “Nines” Stern live two different lives. Nines left and ran away when they were in their teens. But came back reluctantly. He was always pushing boundaries while Connor colored in the lines. But they still loved each other. Nines gets into space engineering of all things and Connor gets into English and aims to be a professor. Amanda also works as a professor at a nearby collage.

One day while in their late 20’s he leaves suddenly and without warning. He leaves a letter telling Connor that he’s sorry but he’ll see him again one day and that the sciences weren’t for him.

Its years later in their mid 30’s when Nines visits again looking like a street racer. He says he’s sorry and gets briefly caught up. Connor is working as a clerk despite his degree (and he’s disappointed that he only saw Amanda at his graduation). Nines says he’s between jobs working as a mechanic and leaves it at that. He confesses that he got into some trouble and he regrets not visiting sooner. He has to leave, but Connor tries to sus out what kind of trouble he’s in and suggests Amanda’s help. Nines looks hurt and disappointed. He promises that he’ll come back when he’s safe again. It occurs to Connor that he’s in so much danger he’s visiting now in case he’ll never see him again.

So he leaves and it eats Connor up inside that he’s not safe, older brother instinct kicking in. A few days after he leaves he convinces himself to go after him, damn laws and his work. He misses and loves his brother more than anything.

Connor tries to retrace his steps and uses clues to find him. Instead of leading him to an inkling of an idea to take to the police he gets caught in a biker gangs supposed territory.

Hank catches him and is about to warn him to stop looking where he doesn’t belong but he freezes and recognizes him. In the dark it’s hard to tell so he calls out “Nines?”

Connor is thrown and forgetting that this man could snap him in half he asks hurriedly where Nines is. They talk and Hank figures out that his brother is looking for him. Connor introduces himself obligating Hank to do the same. “Uh look maybe I shouldn’t be telling you this but we can’t find him either. You probably know more than we do.”/“We?”

Hank suddenly gets a call from Gavin asking where the hell he is and that Tina may have a lead. Hank glances at Connor and he shivers. Hank says he may have one too.

Hank offers him his helmet and tells him that if he want to find Nines, he might have to break a few… rules. Cementing himself into finding him Connor takes the helmet. Before he gets on he muses that Hank doesn’t have one. He laughs and tells him to hop on. Tentatively he places his hands on his sides but as the bike ride gets more extreme, telling Connor of his skill he panics and holds on tighter. [Sidebar: Wear a helmet when riding a bike!!!!!! Don’t do this!!!!!]

They meet up, catching Tina and Gavin off guard in an old bike shop. It’s unclear if the bike shop is used in the daylight. Either way once Gavin sees that this guy ain’t Nines he’s openly hostile, criticizing his look and appearance. After Hank buts in he demands that Connor tells them everything he knows about Nines’ whereabouts. Going so far to shove him against a wall. Connor tries not to let it get to him, but he’s clearly terrified. Tina just watches all this go down. Gavin punches him in the eye and before Connor gives in Hank pulls him off and starts yelling at him. Along the lines of he’s are only chance besides the lead you got, no he won’t tell us anything now that you got him scared. Gavin argues that he’s just getting in their way. Hank spares a glance over to Connor who crumpled onto the ground like wet paper. Sighing, Hank agrees.

At hearing this Connor looks up. There’s a part of him that’s revolted. Whatever cult or gang his brother got himself into here, it’s not enough to scare him off. Even if he feels like running. Connor speaks up and says that he’s not going anywhere without finding his brother first. Gavin rolls his eyes and walks away a bit. Hank looks tired, like Connor took up all his patience. “Listen kid.”/”I’m not a kid.”/“You should just go back to where ever suburb you spawned from. Once we get Nines back we’ll give him shit for it and he’ll visit you. And everything can go back to normal.”/“Get him back, what the hell you mean by that?” G: “Way to go Hank now you’ve fucked us all over.”

At last Tina finally buts in. “Y’know Nines is usually the diplomat here, but I guess that job falls on me now huh.” Tina then goes on to explain their ‘evidence’ which is the suggestion that a rival gang grabbed him. She then says that Nines told her he had to go see someone. G:”We knew that.” T:”You idiot he was going to see Connor. That means he’s the last one to see Nines before he rode off and or got kidnapped.”

To investigate to see whether or not the rival gang took Nines or not they gotta go consult a source of theirs. But since Connor won’t leave Hank sticks with him at the shop while Tina and Gavin leave. Hank keeps vague as possible about the shop, he simply gives him an ice pack for his eye and tries to apologize on Gavin’s behalf. Connor interrupts him saying that if Gavin was sorry he would apologize for himself. Hank agrees and retracts his statement. Connor then thinks about how this all happened in about an hour. It was the middle of the night really he should go find a place to sleep. He observes the garage they’re in. Hank kept avoiding questions about where they were near where they were standing Connor spots an unused bike. As Hank kept talking he walked over to the bike. Hank caught on and walked over. He explained that was Nines’ bike and asked Connor if he had any idea what his brother did. He shook his head. “He told me he was taking odd jobs working as a mechanic.”/“Well he wasn’t really lying to you.” At last Hank confesses that this is his chop shop and Nines and the others work here. Hank realizes and explains that Connor at first seemed like the type to turn them in to the cops on the off chance they would do something illegal but now that he’s fully committed they’ll have to work together. “There’s rooms upstairs I got a couch you can sleep on until Gavin and Tina get back.” Connor finds a cat. Later they get back and they only get vague info.

[Alright this is the section I moved from a story format to a more bulleted format just to get my ideas down. Disclaimer, i’m sorry I made Markus a villain. I tried my best not to make him too bad of a person, but whoops.]

Thought the Red Blood Boys took him after Tina found a threat in their style [I took the rival biker gang name from the song.]

Talk to their in on the RBB and he was vague and high. But said that Nines did make a lot of enemies. This causes Gavin to think about Connor and see if he knows anything about enemies of Nines.

Connor won’t saying anything but is willing to let up about his enemies. Doesn’t talk about Amanda.

Connor believes there are two different people who would be considered Nines’ enemies. Hank and Tina will try one and Connor and Gavin will try the more likely suspect. Hank the leader forces Con and Gavin to work together against Gavin’s will because he needs to learn how to get along.

Hank and Tina turn up nothing but the name Amanda (no idea that’s the mother). They decide to look into it after Gavin and Connor return from their mission.

The other person turns out to have had their life ruined by Nines. It’s Daniel. He confuses Connor for Nines. They get into a shootout. Connor is able to talk Daniel down. But he runs off shortly after. Gavin calls it a draw and jokingly praises Connor for his negotiator skills.

Gavin finds a pamphlet from some cult, ”could be worth looking into.” It’s called Jericho.

They go find some food and they kinda get along. He reveals what Nines told him. It’s nothing but a goodbye message and nothing more. At least they got different leads. Soon they get back, Connor’s dead tired and promises to share info he knows with the rest of the group once he wakes back up. The other’s reconvene.

In the morning Gavin decides not to say anything about Amanda. They just go out again looking for clues about Jericho. Tina and Hank run into Josh while looking into the Professor Amanda thing. They find out that Josh has relations in Jericho so Amanda is dropped.

Josh is threatened and reluctantly tells him a location. Which Tina relays back to Gavin. The place is a set up and North ambushes Con and Gavin when they check it out. They’re able to make it out and Gavin shows that he cares about Connor. They drive back and Gavin stops for a smoke. Connor reveals who Amanda is. Bar scene and Connor gets hit on, Gavin acts a bit jealous.

While Connor sleeps he and Tina go look into Amanda. They find a stuck up professor who threatens to call the police. Gavin makes the connection of Nines’ stuck up personality and Connor’s proprietary-ness. They leave with nothing.

Meanwhile Nines is stuck in the basement of some dude’s mansion. He’s treated well and has breakfast with a fellow named Markus. He knows him. He fixed a car for him, but later when it was needed for repairs again he was given an offer to get it scrapped so he did. And then blanked Markus. Nines won’t say anything but Markus keeps monologuing how he’ll get his father’s car back hell or high water. At last he speaks saying if he wants it back he better have someone leave a ransom note for his crew. Markus agrees and muses that the fun was over once your crew threatened his friends.

Their leads die off and Jericho is unfound. Luckily a few days after the Amanda thing they get a note. It tells them to return the car or their friend will die in 14 days, no address is given. Connor is shaken up. Tina tries to find receipts. Hank goes to see if they scrapped it from sources. Gavin is told to do the same if Tina can’t find the proper receipts. Gavin encourages Connor.  

Tina calls them to say that it’s a good thing Nines was so prissy about record keeping. Except for the scrap jobs which were often illegal. There’s a note for a vintage red car and a successful exchange. Then there’s another one but no return receipt, just the order which implies the car got dropped off so it had to go somewhere. Tina confirms that the handwriting is the same.

She goes and tells Hank. Gavin banks on him scrapping it so he says to Connor that he knows just the place to get a car like that.

They meet up with Hank at this street racing gig. Sure enough after a bit of asking around they find the car that’s about to be won in a race. Simon is there and the race it’s about to begin. They watch it go down and the pure skill this Simon fellow is showing is startling. He wins and per race rules anyone can challenge him. All four muss about who will go. Gavin wants to, but Connor interjects. Silent Gavin lets him. Connor wants to say if he fucks up Gavin can just race him, but once he steps up to his still warm bike Simon does announce that if he can’t be beat twice then it’s a guarantee Simon wins.

They race. Simon gets the initial lead, but slowly Connor gains ground and makes clever use of shortcuts. At the end it seems like Simon will win but Connor thinks about Nines nearly dying and getting Gavin’s one of now three friends back is very important. He’ll win for both of them. To prove them all wrong. With another trick/shortcut he wins. [Cliche maybe, but it’s fun to read in write in a fic.] They give him his congrats and luckily no one challenges him to a race so the owner of the car give a 1 2 3 and sold. Simon’s pissed and rides off frustrated. Gavin pulls them aside and watches him ride off. He muses that he may have to memorize his face incase he comes back to kill them. Sincerely gives him a good job. Connor realizes that a real Gavin smile is one of the best things he’s ever seen. And that he may have a crush on this rat of a man. Connor also basks in the warmth of Gavin trusting him. Tina interrupts their pow-wow asking how are they gonna get the car back to the shop.

Tina looks further into the dude with the fancy car online while Hank, Connor, and Gavin talk. Hank wonders how they’re gonna get the small details down, only Nines would know. Gavin muses that the rich fuck probably doesn’t know how many miles are on the thing since these types of cars to old people are more cosmetic than anything. Tina finds out that the car belonged to a Carl Manfred and once he died it either went to one of his sons. His adopted son, Markus or Leo. No other info is given so they gotta go find out who was favored. They turn in for the night. 

Hank and Tina are the main mechanics and they gotta keep the shop alive somehow so Hank tells Gavin to look into Leo (Gavin also hates ’not doing anything’). Luckily they get a picture to go off of. They hit up the main spots for info, pretty quickly they discover Leo is a drug dealer now. They interrogate him (Gavin was making fun of the little cop dynamic they had going on) and easily find out that Markus got all the shit including the mansion. Leo gladly gives the address and tells them to make sure to send Markus a message from Leo, they ignore him.

As they stop for a now routine smoke break and drink at bar Gavin admits how much he hates rich folk. Connor can tell he’s speaking from experience. Gavin shares that he has a rich brother who left him and his mom once he got rich. Together they learned how to build with machines. Connor shares a story about the time Nines ran away from home. 

—Why didn’t Markus add any address? He doesn’t care about the life, only the car. So he’d rather make them sweat over how to get the car to him because that’s more entertaining over simply leading them there. — [I had to explain it somehow.]

They ride in, Tina in the car. They arrive to the gated lot and pull up to see Markus, and son of a bitch, Simon, North, and Josh are here too. Nines is not there. Hank does negotiations asking where Nines is and he’ll hand over the car soon as he’s released. Markus doesn’t respond he’s just staring at Connor. He smiles and turns back to an increasingly agitated Hank. ”If you want Nines to return back to his brother go to the location written on the orange post-it note in the glove box.” silence. Markus hums. ”I knew that idiot scrapped it. I’m an agreeable man. My people have let Nines go, he’s out of our hands. It’s not our fault you don’t know where he is now. I have made my part of the deal, time to do yours.” Gavin interjects and yells at him for breaking the deal. Markus pulls out a gun and leaves it at his side, North follows and Simon the same. Josh goes back into the house. Hank, Tina, and Gavin pull out their guns, Connor still doesn’t have one. Connor knows they’re out matched, North he knows from experience can kill all of them easy. Remembering how Gavin praised his negotiator skills he steps ahead. 

All three protest, but Gavin, even as Connor speaks keeps trying to get him out of there. Connor reasons with Markus on how they were able to find this place without an address, they can find Nines just as easily. The reality is that Markus is in trouble here. Connor also knows that losing one of his friends would be the worst possible solution to this, just give them some sort of address and we’ll leave the car. Markus puts away his gun. Hank and Tina lower their’s and scowl Gavin into doing the same. Markus gives them an address and tells them to get the hell out and never seem them again. Tina hops on Hank’s bike and they ride off to the destination.

It’s an old abandoned warehouse. There is one active street lamp. Gavin and Connor find Nines in a weird cage like room. Nines’ eyes widen once he sees Connor. Once he’s engaged he asks if he’s hallucinating before hugging the crap out of Connor. He asks with a ragged voice “how did you…?” But he turns to Gavin before he waits for an answer and hugs him. G:”Your cat misses you.” N: ”Thank you for taking care of him.” They get outside and they all hug it out and cry a little and joke. Nines recognizes that Connor has his bike and then pulls him aside.

He asks how he got into this mess. Connor tells him it’s a long story and he’ll tell him more once Nines is able to speak properly. Nines agrees and tells him that he should go home. He hugs him. Nines lets on and jokes about how the two behave around each other. Before leaving he walks over to Gavin.

N: ”Take him home. Treat him well.” He winks and Gavin blushes blushes. Gavin weakly kicks at his shins and tells him that he shouldn’t be driving. Nines says he’s getting soft and he’ll stop by a gas station and freshen up. Gavin throws a few colorful swears at him. Connor walks up and tells him to not mind his brother. “Oh don’t worry I’ve been dealing with his smartass for years now.”

Connor rides behind him. But unlike before with Hank he wasn’t scared, instead he leans into Gavin’s back and is tall enough to put his head on top of Gavin’s. [Once again, ride with a helmet!!!!] Connor loops his arms around Gavin’s stomach. (Little does he know Gavin is using all his concentration on trying not to crash his fucking bike.) Gavin walks him to his door and it’s clear that Gavin is stalling a little bit. Gavin asks what he’s gonna do now. Connor admits that he doesn’t really know what to do career wise. But he does know what to do about his love life. Without much hesitation he kisses Gavin against his door. He responds greedily. Before things get too out of hand Connor breaks it off and laments that he’s so so tired. Gavin smirks and teases him about the fact he wasn’t a night owl at all. “Yeah? When did you sleep?”/“In shifts dumbass.” Connor ends the conversation by wishing him goodnight. Connor gets ready to sleep in his own bed. He makes it clear to himself to make some changes starting tomorrow. Namely visiting his brother, distancing himself from Amanda and go on a proper date with Gavin. He’d like to see the rough and dirty biker wearing a suit in a restaurant. End with sweet anecdote.

That’s all I got. It’s sorta, in a way, dedicated to @barbaesparza. 

And here’s the song which helped inspire this monster. I also named this AU ‘Low Beam’ because of it. 

[bastardreynolds]

ooh 13 or 18 macdennis for the prompt 👀

original prompt post

13.   “No, that’s not how you do that”

18.   A new mattress

i’m something of a loose canon and so combined these two prompts into one fic. enjoy this utter chaos. 

fic after the “keep reading” break but i would prefer if u would read here on ao3 because tumblr fucked up the formatting and got rid of all my italics, which imo add to the tone in important ways

Mac and Dennis Buy a Mattress

“So you’re telling me,” Dennis says. “That your mattress just spontaneously caught on fire?”

Mac shuffles awkwardly in his seat. “Yes.”

“And you expect me to believe that?”

“I’m not lying, dude. I was just minding my own business, thinking about God, checking out our new flamethrower and –”

“Wait, so you were using the flamethrower inside?”

“No, that’s –”

“You realise that you actively doing things to cause the fire doesn’t make it spontaneous, yeah? You do understand what the word spontaneous means?”

“Yeah, but I didn’t do it, Dennis!”

Dennis raises an eyebrow and Mac glares at him.

“I’m just asking you to check the bank account to see if we’ve got enough for a new one. Also, my room smells like burnt mattress so I’m gonna crash in your room tonight.”

Mac suddenly can’t look Dennis in the eye, but simultaneously pushes himself further towards Dennis’ end of the couch.

“Check it yourself, asshole.”

“You know that I always forget the password for the internet thing.”

“My god!” Dennis is getting increasingly exasperated. “My god, fine! Also I know we don’t have enough, because you spent all our goddamn savings on the flamethrower, which you then used to set your mattress on fire!”

Mac pouts, and fixes Dennis with a look that is completely and utterly pathetic, but still has its desired effect, making Dennis give in and say, “Fine. Fine, I’ll ask Frank. Also, we’re getting the new one today, because I don’t want you sleeping in my bed.”

Two hours later at the mattress store, Mac and Dennis stand facing a rows and rows of beds. Mac’s hands are resting on his hips and he’s glaring at the overwhelming number of options in front of them like he’s resisting the urge to whip out the flamethrower and make the entire store spontaneously catch fire. Dennis slings his arm around Mac’s shoulder, to make sure he doesn’t run off and do something dumb.

“Where should we start?” he asks Mac.

Mac’s frown deepens. “I didn’t think it’d be this complicated. Last time I bought a mattress –” he pauses to think. “Actually, my old mattress was just your old mattress when you upgraded.”

“Okay, well,” Dennis starts to lead him toward some of the mid-range queen mattresses. “My personal recommendation is this one. Perfect balance of hard and soft, and optimal bounce for banging.”

Mac ducks out from under Dennis arm and sits down on the mattress, bouncing gently to test Dennis’ assertion. “I don’t know dude, I feel like it needs more bounce.”

Dennis chortles. “No, no, no, Mac. Trust me, when you’re plowing a chick, this mattress is perfect.”

Mac hums, but doesn’t seem convinced.

“Okay, let me show you,” Dennis says, because it’s really the only option left. “So I’m the girl in this situation,” he says as he climbs on and lies in the middle of the mattress. He pushes himself up on one elbow and looks at Mac. “Now come straddle me.”

“What? Why, dude?”

“Trust me.”

Mac shrugs and moves towards Dennis. When he’s kneeling beside him, he grabs Dennis’ waist and tries to roll him over. “What are you doing?”

“Rolling you over, duh.”

“Why? That’s not how you do this. What are you –”

“Well if you’re a chick I’m gonna roll you over,” Mac says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “I don’t like seeing their front. It wigs me out.”

Dennis blinks. “You don’t like seeing the faces of the girls you bang?”

“It’s not the face so much as the,” Mac gestures vaguely at his own front, and Dennis thinks it’s maybe meant to indicate tits and things that make it clear that Very Gay Mac is fucking a woman.

“Okay, whatever. Just don’t roll me over, okay.”

“But if you’re the girl –”

“Then I won’t be the girl, I don’t care. Just straddle me, it’s important.”

Mac does as he’s told and swings his legs over Dennis waist, settling comfortably at the top of his thighs.

“Now,” Dennis instructs. “Feel how easy that was. And notice how the mattress gives way just the right amount under your knees.”

Mac nods. “Dude, you’re right.”

“And then, when you thrust, the girl – the uh, the other person –”

“A hot chick.”

“Yeah, whatever. The other person, they also get a fantastically sensual experience, because the physics of the mattress are perfectly in tune with the thrusts of an expert sexual partner.”

Mac places his hands either side of Dennis’ head, lifts his hips, and then thrusts down, and repeats several times. “I can see that.”

Dennis notices Mac’s boner, but doesn’t comment on it, because he’s kind of used to that shit by now.

“Um excuse me, sirs,” a voice says from behind them. Mac’s head twists to fix the stop assistant with a scowl. “You can’t, uh – do that on the display mattresses.”

“Buddy, I’m doing your job for you right now,” Dennis rebuts. “Do you want a sale or not?”

The shop assistant doesn’t reply, and just sort of gawks.

“Well, do you? Do you?”

“I mean – I guess so?”

“In that case, you’re welcome. A good mattress needs to be good for plowing, and that’s what I’m perfectly demonstrating to my friend right now. I’ve basically sold him on it, you know?”

“And he’s right,” Mac adds.

The shop assistant doesn’t seem to know how to respond. “You still can’t – I’m going to have to ask you to dismount – to, uh, to get off the bed.”

Mac rolls his eyes, and pushes himself away from Dennis, flopping down next to him.

“Can you believe this asshole?” he asks.

“I know right,” Dennis responds, turning his head to meet Mac’s eyes.

“I think you’re right about this mattress though, dude. Could definitely get some plowing done.”

“If you’re going to make a purchase can you please do so and leave,” the shop assistant begs.

So they buy the mattress, and after an extended argument at the till decide to waive the $100 delivery cost (which is quite frankly extortionate), because there’s no reason they can’t just strap it to the roof of the Range Rover and drive it home. It turns out it’s harder to secure a mattress to the top of a vehicle than initially thought, but after several attempts, and Dennis taking a trip to the hardware store to buy more rope, they’re relatively confident it’s fine.

“So, I was thinking –” Mac starts, staring up at the mattress.

“You’re not riding home on the roof,” Dennis cuts him off, and Mac frowns.

“Why not?”

“That’s so unsafe, on so many levels. And illegal, probably. And not a thing that grown men do.”

“Think of the core strength I’d need to stay holding on. It’s totally manly.”

“I’m not – we’re not having this argument. Just get in the car.”

They’re half way home, and crossing a bridge over the river when Dennis has to swerve to avoid some piece of shit old lady who obviously shouldn’t be on the road.

“Die quicker, you bitch!” Dennis shouts after her red Toyota, for good measure.

By the time either of them realise what’s happening, it’s too late to stop it. There’s a creak, and a snap, and then the mattress is sliding off the roof of the car, and falling into the Schuylkill River. The whole thing seems to happen in slow motion, but Dennis just sits in the driver’s seat of the car and stares like an idiot as his money (Frank’s money) bops languidly under the bridge.

“Oh goddamnit!”

Frank refuses to give them more money for another mattress (I’m not gonna keep bailing you out every time you throw a mattress in the Schuylkill River!) This is how Mac ends up sleeping in Dennis’ bed.

It’s about two weeks into the whole arrangement, when Mac rolls over to Dennis and asks, “So when you fuck in this bed, are you normally on top or underneath?”

“What?” Dennis asks, blinking and looking up from his phone screen.

“I mean, where does the chick normally go.”

“It – it depends. Depends what we’re doing, what role –”

“But you are on the bottom sometimes?”

“Yes. What does this have to do with anything?”

Mac shrugs. “Was just thinking about it.”

The next night Mac asks, “So what about blowjobs?”

“What?”

“Is the mattress any good for getting head?”

“Yes. For giving head too, but – What are you doing? What is this?”

“I miss my mattress, dude. I bet some homeless dudes dragged it out of the river and are going at it right now.”

Dennis frowns, because not only is that an unpleasant image, but Mac’s questions are also completely bizarre.

The next night, Mac restarts the line of questioning. “And so, for handjobs?”

And then the next night. “Do you ever do butt stuff?”

And the next. “What about just for making out, you know?”

It’s then that Dennis can’t fucking take it anymore. He screams, and then he’s kissing Mac. It’s hot and furious, and he isn’t surprised when Mac kisses him back, arches up against Dennis, breaks the kiss to push Dennis’ shirt over his head.

Afterwards, Dennis’ head is resting on Mac’s shoulder, and Mac’s fingers trace the outline of his spine. “The bounce was pretty fucking great, dude.”

Dennis hums. “I told you so.”

“Gotta try it again though. For the scientific method.” Mac’s words are complete nonsense, and Dennis kicks at his ankles to shut him up, but their legs just end up tangled together.

“And facing you was okay and shit too. I didn’t even know dudes could do it facing each other.”

“Oh my god, will you shut up for one second.”

“I’m just saying it wasn’t how I thought it’d be. Also, I’m pretty sure I’m gay.”

“I know you’re gay, Mac. Everyone knows.”

“Hey, you have no way of knowing for sure that I’m gay.”

“Your dick was in my ass like ten minutes ago.”

“Okay, but that doesn’t prove anything, that –”

“Just shut up and go to sleep or I won’t let you fuck me again.”

Mac is silent for a moment, and Dennis thanks God and Jesus and all of Mac’s Catholic Saints because he just wants to go to sleep.

“You so will let me fuck you again,” Mac says.

“I’m not replying to you anymore.”

“I’m gonna give you a blowjob tomorrow morning, so be ready for that.”

“If you don’t let me sleep I won’t be ready.”

Mac seems to find that argument compelling, because he hums and lays a kiss to Dennis’ hair, and whispers goodnight, before mercifully shutting the fuck up. True to his word, Mac gives Dennis a blowjob the next morning, and they’re late to work, because Dennis drags Mac into the shower with him and returns the favour.

By the time they’ve saved up enough for a new mattress, it’s no longer a priority, or even a necessity really, because even with a second bed, there’s no way that Mac is going to extricate himself from Dennis’ space. And that’s just how it goes.

[comicteaparty]

June 24th-June 30th, 2019 CTP Archive

The archive for the Comic Tea Party week long chat that occurred from June 24th, 2019 to June 30th, 2019.  The chat focused on Drugs & Wires by Mary Safro & Io Black.

Featured Comment:

Chat:

RebelVampire

COMIC TEA PARTY- WEEK LONG BOOK CLUB START!

Hello and welcome everyone to Comic Tea Party’s Week Long Book Club~! This week we’ll be focusing on Drugs & Wires by Mary Safro & Io Black~! (https://www.drugsandwires.fail/)

You are free to read and comment about the comic all week at your own pace, so stop on by whenever it suits your schedule! Remember, though, that while we allow constructive criticism, our focus is to have fun and appreciate the comic. Below you will find four questions to get you started on the discussion. However, a new question will be posted and pinned everyday (between 12:01AM and 6AM PDT), so keep checking back for more! You have until June 30th to tell us all your wonderful thoughts! With that established, let’s get going on the reading and the chatting!

QUESTION 1. What has been your favorite scene in the comic so far? What specifically did you like about it?

QUESTION 2. Who do you think made the Worm and for what reason? Why does it seem to mostly be affecting Stradania and not other places? Do you think Dan’s implant can ultimately be fixed, or is he stuck forever away from VR?

RebelVampire

QUESTION 3. At the moment, who is your favorite character? What about that character earns them this favor?

QUESTION 4. What aspect of the world’s cyberpunk setting interests you the most and why? Alternatively, what aspect are you hoping to see explored a bit more in regards to how it affects the characters?

RebelVampire

1) Gonna be a bit depressing when I say the bridge scene where Dan almost threw himself off it. Which I'm gonna spoiler tag the rest of this just as a suicide trigger warning precaution. I was 100% right there in the moment with him during that scene. Like I understood why he'd arrived at that conclusion, and it didn't come off as patronizing as I feel a lot of similar suicide scenes often do in comics. This is a man who even I felt really had nothing to live for, as sad as that is to say. Not that I wanted Dan to die, of course, but I get absolutely why he would. And then when he's saved, I liked that he is angry about it. Cause that is a dark reality I feel too many comics shy away from. And just all that gritty realism really hit me in the heart. 2) I don't know who made the worm and I don't think it matters all that much. Rather, I think the reason is more important, and the reason I think is to either kill VR or draw attention to Dan's shitty country. Which I kind of want to believe the latter, that this is somehow politically motivated. Or even if its the former, the idea is to get ppl more politically involved. That being said, I do think it's someone in Stradania who made it. As for Dan's implant being fixed, I don't think so. I don't think he'll be let off the hook that easy, and that he will continue to have to face his awful world for what it is, garbage and all.

3) Dan because he is the delicious epitome of a flawed protagonist. He's not mean, but between his drug problems, his crappy attitude towards most people, and so forth, he's got some real issues to work through. But that's great, cause at least that makes the few steps forward he's taken more satisfying. Since he's not getting those steps easy. He has to basically crawl through metaphorical lava to gain even 2 cm. 4) I really like the world's integration of VR and cybernetics. Like it's not on the level it's just there, but there's businesses around it, slang around it, and so forth. It's presented as this super ingrained culture thing, and that is super hard to play off. And it's just really well-done to see all the ways that those aspects bleed into their lives, whether the invention was intended to do so in that way or not.

Historical Jesus

I'm about to catch up. gimmy some time

RebelVampire

itll be going for the rest of the week, so theres no rush.

snuffysam

1) My favorite scene is the basement wake. It's a cool way to introduce those side characters (especially Vlad), and we were shown how our protagonist is seen through other people's eyes.

Like, we as the readers get to see Dan's struggles first-hand, but seeing the way Dan's "friends" think of him as a mindless junkie is really eye-opening

Re-reading the wake chapter made me think of something regarding question (2). Rebel, you suggested that the worm may have been made to kill VR. Could the reverse be true instead? Vlad has this speech about how the victims of the worm are martyrs, and the rest of the cast groans... but maybe he's not so far off.(edited)

My favorite character is Lin. On the surface, she's a terrible, shady person, but she's got heart where it counts! (in a trunk with a bunch of other organs)

Though I also really like Dan, for the same reasons as Rebel. He starts off in such a terrible place, and watching him take baby steps towards improvement is... honestly, uplifting, even if he does sometimes take some big steps backward.(edited)

RebelVampire

QUESTION 5. What has been your favorite illustration in the comic so far? What specifically about it do you like?

QUESTION 6. Do you think Dan will manage to find Eve again? If so, how might that affect him? Further, what do you think Dan’s past history is in general with his family and others that might play a role in the story?

Historical Jesus

Is the person writing this comic Russian

RebelVampire

cant speak for Io, but while not from Russia, Mary does speak Russian

Historical Jesus

SHe might have had family immigrate from Russia. This story just feels very Russian in the sense that everyone is down on their luck

But yeah. This story is freaking great!

Cryo

Hey, Mary here! I'm a Russian from Latvia, Io's German but I usually consult him on any Russian bits we have in the comic : D thanks so much for reading, loved seeing all the replies so far!

Historical Jesus

It's you

@Cryo Do you have experience with information security or bug hunting?(edited)

I mean, you sound like you REALLY understand hacker culture(edited)

Historical Jesus

ok I finished

1: Favorite scene? Hard to tell honestly. I like them all for different reasons. It's the continuum of the story I appreciate. The fact I'm always wanting to see what happens next? 2: Who made the worm. I've noticed that people who were infected had illegal copies of software. From a cybersecurity perspective, worms only work when either (A) someone finds a vulnurability that has never before been seem or (B) people don't update their shit for whatever reason. Hence why most software schedules mandatory updates. This could just be the inevitable conclusion to using pirated or older software. 3: Favorite character: Dan. I can relate to him the most. I don't do party drugs, just psycodelics.

4: Favorite aspect of cyberpunk. Historical relevance. In our past, rulers were privileged to rule because humans believed they were "ordained by God" to rule. European philosophers then said that the right to rule belongs to those who become the height of natural selection/ The premise being that there is no god and that we are "free agents" with "free will." No one is entitled to anything unless they produce something of value. This made perfect sense when manual labor was relevant and everything had to be done by hand. This includes pen and paper math. Hence why pay is exclusively based on labor value. Enter the age of technology fucked this up. Capitalism today is STUPIDLY efficient. We WHOOPED natural selections ass. We also learned that humans can't simply "change their outlook at will." Humans are mortal and are not much different than machines. The have needs and all that pesky human stuff. Some people could argue that healthier people have more free will than others, but poverty is the inevitable conclusion to this "free will" "labor value" mindset. But people think principles are sacred and set in stone. So what we are seeing is devalued labor and everyone becoming more poor and the formation of corporate oligarchies and dependences. Cyberpunk was WAY ahead of it's time in seeing this. We need to revisit this genre because I sure as shit don't want to live under a global illuminati with hard line cultural segregation.(edited)

Cryo

No, no real hacking experience here, I'm a 3d modeller by trade. We do our research when we can but our readers are a lot more technically minded than we are :p

Historical Jesus

I love 3D modeling

Attila Polyák

I'll be totally honest your work didn't really catch me at first, but I kept reading. Aaaaand dang that was a good decision. This is genuinely well made. I'm only at the end of chapter 4 but that bridge scene was great. I'm pretty sure it'll be my favourite scene but I need to read the rest first.

Historical Jesus

I have one of two options in life. Make high detailed models to sell on Gumroad or make comics. Gumroad will require constant adaptation to new software, but I already have my comic story structure fgiured out

Cryo

@Attila Polyák thanks for giving us a chance! Hope you enjoy the rest ( though chapter 5 is a lot less dramatic in comparison!)

Historical Jesus

Do you have a resolution in mind or are you just making it as you go?

Cryo

Yeah, we know where we're taking the story, but how it gets there can vary. Lots of the scenes we wrote years ago have to be tweaked or redone entirely to work

Historical Jesus

If the "free will" capitalist have their way, then we can expect the future to look very similar. Lots of poor people using lots of old tech. All software and hardware is closed sourced and locked down.The division between rich and poor will be larger than ever. Many of the zero days will be state sponsored much like they are now and they can use this to legally infect people and categorize them and use their own information against them if they ever become a threat to the state or the rich tech oligarchy

When I read this I got sense of creepy forcasting

More kids are playing with the Linux Kernal than smoking cigarettes so we might be ok

Historical Jesus

5: Favorite illustration? Anything that involved gif animations. That's not to say it should be overused but it was used at the right time

6a: Will Dan find Eve again? Probably. Since Cryo has a conceptual end in mind, I imagine she serves a key purpose in the plot. If they don't then it's likely that their actions will effect each other in some way.(edited)

6b: What is Dan's history with his parents? Let's look at who Dan is now. He's a poor drug addict who has had a dead end job. Yet he is not an overly angry person. Just depressed. He hangs around computer poetry people and other drug people. As a person who has experience with drugs, I noticed three types of people who do the dangerous drugs. At least in the US. They are... -People who have had repressive or needlessly strict parents. Thus overdoing drugs becomes associated with freedom and eventually a point of rebellion. But you can do too many of them. -People who are poor and need to sell them because they are poor. Naturally many of them do the drugs themselves so they naturally become addicted. -People who's parents are drug users themselves. The people who teach are schools will tell you it's that "people are trying to be cool" and it has nothing to do with that. Truth be told, they are hiding something. There is also a lot of dark racial history behind enhancing substances and the law and that can influence people's decision to take them, but I don't want to get into that because I don't want to get booted from this server.(edited)

Historical Jesus

Actually, @Cryo, would you be willing to give us a brief personal biography? Also, if you are, then can you tell us about your parents, what they did for a living, and the income situation you had growing up.(edited)

Why am I asking this? I think we can come up with more interesting answers about the comic if we know YOU as a person and how that influences your writing. I was able to infer that this story sounded Russian as fuck. Since the setting was Russian, I figured you were either from there or had family there

We can give more interesting answers that can help you come up with more interesting writing

RebelVampire

@Historical Jesus Your questions are getting a little personal, and while I understand the logic behind them, keep in mind we're here to discuss the comic and not the creators' personal lives.

keii4ii

Yeah... I feel even if the creators are okay with discussing it, this stuff is best left to DM

Historical Jesus

I understand. I would like to give her the choice. If she chooses not to then I understand. Biologically speaking, I think art is meant to be personal.

keii4ii

(and of course, if they don't want to discuss it, no one should pressure them about it )

RebelVampire

yeah if @Cryo wants to answer that's fine. Just for the future please keep those sorts of questions to a minimum and watch the wording on them. Cause that statement did sound overly pressure filled.

Historical Jesus

of course

keii4ii

I don't think we should be getting further into this territory?

RebelVampire

Agreed. This isn't a really appropriate topic for #week_long_bookclub, @Historical Jesus and has little to do with the comic.

Historical Jesus

I understand. I'm trying to demonstrate the the relevance and the benefits of understanding the author as a person. And again, it's her choice to choose what she discloses.

RebelVampire

And again, I get the logic. But just not appropriate for this discussion.

Historical Jesus

fair enough. I just want it to be known

I rephrased the question so it's less assertive. I apologies, I suck with social skills. Hopefully by the time she reads it, then it will be more inviting for her.

RebelVampire

thats better wording for sure, thank you.

Historical Jesus

no problem

art was definitely designed to be personal. The reason why a lot of big budget art feels bland is because it's meant for everyone and they have to not get too deep into offending people. Because it has to make money. That requires the work of a true genius. D&W is specialized and it will attract a certain group of people. Mostly people who value anonymous culture like myself. Or so I imagine.

RebelVampire

QUESTION 7. Which characters do you enjoy seeing interact the most? What about their dynamic interests you?

QUESTION 8. Will Lin actually go through with her plan to get into politics? If so, do you believe she can actually make a difference? What obstacles do you think she might run into, and do you think Dan will be of any help to her?

Cryo

(i would appreciate not having to talk about my life and anyones political beliefs neither here nor in DMs, thanks for understanding)(edited)

Historical Jesus

Understood

Historical Jesus

7: Dan, primarily because he is relatable. He would interact the way I would. Not having money sucks.

Historical Jesus

8: Will in go into politics? Probably not. She strikes me as a neroatypycal character. I could be wrong though.

RebelVampire

@snuffysam If the worm was designed to improve VR, I really want to meet the person who decided that making ppl martyrs was the way to go. Cause that's some backwards thinking, imo at least XD

5) There's a lot of really great ones, but I'm kind of fond of the illustration of Dan puking up rainbows. It's this cool mix of gross, psychedelic, and not what I expected. It expressed a lot of mood somehow for something that's less grand than I usually pick. 6) I think Dan will find Eve again, if only cause from a technical perspective she was introduced super early on to not be important. However, I think meeting her again is just gonna make him feel bad about himself as he realizes how little his baby steps of improvement are. In regards to his family, just gonna be bold and say my theory: his dad is part of that political group that took control and really hates cyborgs and technology and all that. Thus they were probably not the most open-minded and rejected Dan in multiple ways both through emotional abuse and neglect.

7) I like seeing Dan and Troy right now. Everyone else in the comic is kind of...shitty towards Dan. Like i know Dan isn't the greatest person, but I would hate to be in the situation where I'm constantly being told I'm a junkie who won't amount to anything. Which I mean don't get me wrong, those are interesting interactions. But Troy? Troy is this new person whose only experience with Dan is kind of a nice if not high tension one. Troy comes with a fresh, no prior knowledge of Dan perspective, and I think that's really interesting and gonna be a good way to shed new light on Dan's more positive traits. 8) I think Lin will try to go through with it, but I think Lin is fighting a losing game. Short of stuffing the ballot, I don't think those she's trying to help will vote for her. Instead they'll just bitch and be complacent to the world around them. But on that same vain, Lin probably could just stuff the ballots to win. I umm...honeslty don't think Dan can help her in anyway. Dan is really busy helping himself to suck less at the moment. XD

RebelVampire

QUESTION 9. What sorts of art or story details have you noticed in the way the comic is crafted that you think deserves attention?

QUESTION 10. What do you think Sandman and Fixer will find in regards to the Worm as the story continues, and what does the VR cafe Sandman has been hacking have to do with anything? How will Nate tie into this given he’s looking for Fixer?

RebelVampire

QUESTION 11. What do you think are this particular comic’s strengths? What do you think makes this comic unique? Please elaborate.

QUESTION 12. Overall, what role do you think Troy will have within the story? Additionally, how will she get out of her situation with having no ID, money, or much in the way of people she knows?

Historical Jesus

9: The art against the web design literally looks like something we would see at Def Con

10: I image he has a lead. After all his motivation is revenge

11: it’s strength is that it's good at making people empathize with characters even if you can't relate to them

12: I don't think Troy will get out of her situation. If she comes back to the states empty handed she will be fired. It might be in her best interest to get wrapped up in finding the worm programmer

Typically speaking large scale worms are state sponsored but it's not clear how far this thing actually spreads.

RebelVampire

9) My favorite details so far have been the small things in the background. Like the random graffiti on the walls, the cracks and dilapidation of the buildings, all the small do-dads in Lin's place. Like none of that needs to be there to create a complete background, but it adds so much character to the setting and each character. So I really appreciate the extra mile taken for that. 10) I think Sandman and Fixer are gonna find that some corporation or someone high up on some food chain made it on purpose. As for the VR cafe? Honestly, I think it's a red herring and Sandman is making an excuse to target them just cause he hates them. As for Nate, I think Nate is gonna join the investigation team but also kind of serve as a negotiator between Fixer and Dan. Cause I don't think those two will get along without help.

11) I think this comic's strengths are a) the setting both visually and story wise, as it's a really strong and vivid setting. then b) Dan. It is very, very hard to write a character like Dan. There are so many things he does that could immediately make him unlikeable, what between the drugs, self destruction, and general assholeness to some of the ppl around him. but yet he is likeable. you do want to see him succeed and not suffer. yet you also still can acknowledge hes unreliable. its a great dynamic that lesser writing could not pull off. 12) I think Troy is gonna be their viewport into the corporate world. Which I think will play a role since there is a themeing here about evil corporations. Plus, she at least knows some stuff better than they do, as she already showed off at the VR cafe. But getting out of it? Nope. Shes stuck and probably gonna make another panicked call to Dan at some point. And Dan will be an angel and help again.

snuffysam

I'm going to go out on a limb here. Not only will Lin go through with running for office, she'll win. And she won't even have to stuff the ballot that much. But... I'm not sure her fight will be over there. After all, there's more than just one corrupt person in the country. I agree with you on the investigation into the Worm, @RebelVampire . I think someone up the corporate ladder is responsible. With that said, I don't think Sandman is targeting the VR cafe for nothing. I think he's trying to draw more attention to their security flaws for... some reason. I guess to get more people involved in investigating? I doubt he foresaw Troy showing up and offering to upgrade the cafe's machines though, so I that probably isn't part of his plan. I think a major part of Dan's character arc going forward will be accepting that he doesn't need Eve. Like, accepting that he doesn't need her help to get better, and that he's the only one he needs to prove his progress to.

Dan's character writing is absolutely my favorite part of this comic. In a weaker comic, I would absolutely hate how a self-destructive character like Dan is portrayed. Like, often characters with addiction/other mental health problems in fiction come off as unlikeable, or too cartoonish, or too depressingly stagnant (at least, from what I've seen in other works of fiction). But Drugs & Wires strikes a great balance where character progression isn't always linear, and isn't always positive, but it's there, and that fluidity makes you want to root for him more each chapter.

Attila Polyák

Now that I finally read all of it... 1, The bridge scene at the end of chapter 4, that was really done. 2, Dan's implant... I'm pretty sure it can be fixed, but I have doubts if Dan will ever have the resources to have it fixed. As a matter of fact I feel like he'll never have the money or influence to have it fixed and the way it is he can't really replace it either, so... He's probably stuck without VR. 3, Lin! She's awesome! 4, Probably the grey market implant dealers, even though that's kinda bog standard cyberpunk stuff. :) 6, Yes, they will probably meet again. And yes, I do feel like we'll need to see more of Dan't past history especially about how he got involved in... well in everything that's his current life. 7, Nagy, as surreally odd, is a great addition to Dan. Like at times I thought his absurdity would actually help Dan. 8, Ofc she will, you don't forge that much "voter trust" for nothing. And Dan, tho probably seemingly unwillingly, will likely help her one way or another.

RebelVampire

QUESTION 13. What are you most looking forward to in the comic? Also, do you have any final thoughts to share overall?

QUESTION 14. Do you think Dan will ever be able to kick his drug habit, or will he continue to fall back into it forever? How will this affect his relationships? Further, how will his habits shape his future role in the story?

RebelVampire

13) I'm looking forward to getting more info about the worm. Cause right now I dont feel any more knowledgeable than I did at the start, and I'm itching to see Sandman, Fixer, or Dan to somehow get a bigger clue to what's going on. 14) I think both will apply. In that Dan will kick the habit eventually but will always be at risk because addiction is not really something you just completely cure. It's a battle he'll have for his entire life, even if he learns to manage it. As for for his relationships, I don't think it'll have much affect, tbh. Maybe things with Lin will improve, maybe Eve. But everyone else is kind of a jerk who already writes him off. Dan is in need of a fresh start somewhere far away.

Historical Jesus

13: Same here. I would like to know more about the worm. I hope that Cyro puts a cool technical characteristic into the worms behavior so that creates interesting and unique challenges for the characters 14: Statistically speaking most people do not kick their drug habit's. Especially not in the position he is in. Based on the story's cultural nature, I doubt the ending will be happy. But I am sure it will be interesting

Cryo

Thanks so much for picking and reading our comic this week! I've had a great time reading all the replies, especially since we don't hear from new readers often, and it's gonna come in handy when we get back into writing more stuff for the comic.

snuffysam

I had a great time reading it, Cryo!

Io.Black

Just wanted to add my own thanks to everybody who took the time to read and comment this past week. As a writer, it’s always incredibly valuable to get a sense of what people are taking away from your work, as well as where they think it’s headed.

RebelVampire

COMIC TEA PARTY- WEEK LONG BOOK CLUB END!

Thank you everyone so much for reading and chatting about Drugs & Wires this week! Please also give a special thank you to Mary Safro & Io Black for volunteering the comic and creating it! If you liked Drugs & Wires, make sure to continue to support it via some of the links below!

Read and Comment: https://www.drugsandwires.fail/

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Safro’s Twitter: https://twitter.com/marysafroart

Io Black’s Twitter: https://twitter.com/b_iologic

[cathygeha]

Have you discovered THE THALANIAN DYNASTY series by NYT Bestselling Author Katee Robert?

In FOREVER THEIRS an exiled prince, his bodyguard and the woman they can’t seem to leave alone, must return home to clear his mother’s name and reclaim his crown. Fans of Laura Kaye’s THEIR’S TO TAKE or Sierra Simone’s AMERICAN QUEEN will devour this cinderella-esque ménage.

Start reading the series for FREE! Download THEIRS FOR THE NIGHT, the novella that introduces you to Theo, Galen, and Meg for FREE at:

Amazon: https://amzn.to/2M3w3A9

B&N: http://bit.ly/2Jl0k7Q

Kobo: http://bit.ly/2JxT2Bg

iTunes: https://apple.co/2LtEK1L

 Add THEIRS FOR THE NIGHT and FOREVER THEIRS to your TBR pile on Goodreads then keep reading to get a sneak peek excerpt and your chance enter the giveaway to win one of TEN (10) eBook copies of FOREVER THEIRS!

  Title: Forever Theirs

Author: Katee Robert

Genre: Contemporary Romance/Thriller/Menage

Release Date: September 10, 2018

Publisher: Indie

Series: The Thalanian Dynasty

Page Count: 73K

Format: Digital

ASIN: B07DP7HT14

 Synopsis:

 Meg Sanders enjoyed her wild night with a prince and his bodyguard—but now she’s moving on. She has enough problems without borrowing the kind of trouble Theo brings just by being who he is. But no matter how determined she is to leave that night a fond memory, she hasn’t seen the last of Theo and Galen… Galen Mikos's life boils down to one goal. Keep Theo alive. But as long as Theo draws breath, he’s a threat to the powers that have taken over Thalania—and anyone they associate with runs the risk of becoming a target, too. Galen will never forgive himself if they let their selfish desire for Meg puts her in danger. But it might already be too late… Theo Fitzcharles might be an exiled prince, but he doesn’t intend to stay that way. He’s only concerned with one thing—clearing his mother’s name and reinstating himself as Crown Prince of Thalania. There’s no room in that plan for distraction, especially when it makes him forget himself the way Meg does. But after spending one perfect night with her and his best friend, Theo has no intention of leaving her alone.  Even if it damns all three of them in the process.

 Available at:  

 Amazon: https://amzn.to/2t3usho

B&N: http://bit.ly/2yiyKr9

Kobo: http://bit.ly/2JQap0k

iTunes: https://apple.co/2JBPRtb

  Enter to win one of TEN (10) eBook copies of FOREVER THEIRS!

Direct link: http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/b050ef29564/?

 Forever Theirs Excerpt

Copyright © 2018 Katee Robert

 Galen stepped out of the cab and pulled Meg after him. At this time of night, there was still plenty of street traffic—plenty of opportunity for his father’s men to blend in until they were close enough to attack.

They already had attacked.

He hustled her off the sidewalk, half carrying her in his rush. She cursed at him, but she could be pissed. At least she was still alive. He didn’t believe for a second that Dorian would order her killed, not when he would see her as a tool just waiting to be used. But Galen’s father would attempt to take her, and that Galen couldn’t allow.

He didn’t relax until the elevator doors opened into their apartment and he caught sight of Theo pacing back and forth through the living room. He’s okay. Meg’s okay. They’re safe.

Except they weren’t.

Shit had hit the fan in the most fucked up way possible, and there was no cleaning up this mess.

Galen released Meg’s arm and ensured the security system was booted up and the door was locked. “Trouble?”

“Not here.” Theo rounded the couch and stopped just out of reach. He devoured Meg with his gaze, no doubt taking in her tangled hair, her torn dress, and the way she shook like a junkie in need of a fix. Adrenaline letdown. Theo cursed. “I’m sorry, princess.”

Meg crossed her arms over her chest and slid back a step, shying away from him—from them both. “I… I need a minute. A shower. Something.”

Theo gave a short nod. “Take what you need.”

She headed for the bedroom and spun at last second. “Alone.”

“No shit,” Galen growled. “Go. Take your time. We don’t touch walking wounded anyways.”

Her spine went rigid and her hazel eyes icy. “Fuck you.”

Better she be angry than terrified. He could work with angry. The scared woman in the back of the cab, looking for reassurances that he couldn’t give her… That kind of comfort wasn’t in Galen’s skillset. He preferred the harsh truth to silken lies, and there was no truth he could give Meg that wouldn’t result in her terror.

He stared until she squirmed. “Already did.”

Meg raised a shaking finger. “I swear to god—”

“Children.” Theo’s voice snapped through the room, a sharp tone that a person ignored to their peril. Meg made a sound perilously close to a snarl, but Theo ignored it. “Go shower or do whatever you need to get your head on straight. You’re fucking terrified and you’re snapping at the biggest dick in the room just to prove that you’re not helpless. It’s wasting time we don’t have.”

“His dick isn’t the biggest,” she muttered.

Galen almost laughed. Even scared out of her damn mind, Meg still had a mouth on her—and hell if he didn’t respect her more for it. “Go shower, little mouse. The adults are talking.”

She made a sound like an angry teakettle and stalked down the hallway. He waited for the sound of the door slamming, but a soft click was all he got. “Damn.”

Theo stalked into the kitchen and snagged the whiskey bottle. He took a long pull and then passed it over. “Tell me.”

“Two men. I didn’t recognize them, but they claimed Dorian sent them.” Galen drank from the bottle, letting the whiskey burn away the awful feeling in his chest when he’d walked through that door and found Meg tied to a chair with two men standing over her. He’d thought… It didn’t matter what he’d thought. He got there in time. They hadn’t done any lasting damage.

At least not the physical kind.

“She can’t go back.”

Galen stared at the bottle. He tightened his grip and put serious consideration into bashing Theo a few times with it. “You just couldn’t leave her alone, could you? It took them a grand total of three days to figure out she might matter and come after her. Fuck, Theo, this shit is on your head.”

“I know.” Theo watched him. Those blue eyes saw too much, just like always. “And yet I’m not the one who was skulking outside her work. You told me you were meeting a contact.”

Caught.

He opened his mouth, and then abandoned the lie before he gave it voice. “You put her in danger. I was ensuring she stayed safe.”

Theo’s lips quirked, but his eyes went hard. “Lie to yourself if you need to, but don’t you dare lie to me. I know why you were there—the same reason I was a week ago. You couldn’t stay away from her any more than I could.” He bracketed Galen’s throat with his hand, his thumb caressing Galen’s pulse point. Theo leaned in. “I shouldn’t have paid the tuition with my own name, and I’ll be the first to admit it. But we are both moths to her fucking flame, and you don’t get to play the beleaguered bodyguard—not right now, and not with me. You want her.”

“Yes.” The word felt ripped from him, taken despite his best efforts to stay silent.

Theo’s grip tightened and his gaze dropped to Galen’s mouth. “We can’t stay in New York. They’ll have eyes on her place.”

“They wanted to take her, Theo. There was a van illegally parked near the back door. They might have set her up to answer questions, but they were going to take her.” If they had, Dorian would use her for whatever purpose he had in mind, a lever to get Galen and Theo to dance to his tune, and then he’d discard her like yesterday’s trash. Even if he didn’t kill her, there would be scars, and she wouldn’t be the Meg they knew anymore.

Theo pressed his forehead to Galen’s, grounding them both. One breath. Two. Three. On the fourth, he stepped back and released him. “You were there in time.”

“I might not have been.” If he’d managed to resist the siren call of Meg’s presence, if he’d had more control, if he’d really gone to meet his local contact instead of doing the skulking Theo accused him of.

“You were there in time,” Theo repeated. He glanced down the hallway to the master bedroom where they could still hear the shower going. “Make the call.”

“She’s never going to forgive us for this.” For dropping a bomb on her life and leaving on destruction in their wake. The two grand was nothing compared to what came next.

Theo sighed. “I know. But better she’s pissed and alive than the alternative. Make the call, Galen. We need to be out of New York before dawn.”  

  Other books in The Thalanian Dynasty series

 Theirs for the Night

THEIRS FOR THE NIGHT is a novella. Theo, Galen, and Meg's story continues in the novel FOREVER THEIRS.

Download at:

Amazon: https://amzn.to/2M3w3A9

B&N: http://bit.ly/2Jl0k7Q

Kobo: http://bit.ly/2JxT2Bg

iTunes: https://apple.co/2LtEK1L

 About Katee Robert

New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author Katee Robert learned to tell her stories at her grandpa’s knee. Her 2015 title, The Marriage Contract, was a RITA finalist, and RT Book Reviews named it 'a compulsively readable book with just the right amount of suspense and tension."  When not writing sexy contemporary and romantic suspense, she spends her time playing imaginary games with her children, driving her husband batty with what-if questions, and planning for the inevitable zombie apocalypse. 

Connect with Katee at: Website | Facebook | Twitter| GoodReads | Instagram | BookBub

  http://www.barclaypublicity.com/

[e350tb]

Steven Universe: Ruby Stars - Chapter Eleven

(Special thanks to @real-fakedoors for proofreading this!)

Reckoning

Private Gordon Watson had long dreamed of joining the army and becoming a hero in some foreign war. He'd turned up to the recruitment office with lofty dreams and endless enthusiasm, absolutely determined to give his all for America and its values.

The army had responded to his plucky enthusiasm by putting him in a truck.

Watson sat at a red traffic light, tapping on the steering wheel. It had been a long drive from the supply depot to Beach City, and he could just about feel himself aging as he waited for the light to turn green. Still, he wouldn't be in this one-horse town long. All he had to do was run to the beach, give the jarheads at the front their ration boxes and clean water, and then run all the way back up to Keystone.

Bitter? Him? Never.

Quite suddenly, he heard a knock on his door. He leaned out the window, making eye contact with a middle-aged blonde woman. She held a wrench in her hand - maybe she was a mechanic?

"Can I help you?" he asked.

"Your taillight's out," said the woman.

Darn it, that was all he needed.

"Hang on."

He sighed and climbed out of the cab, wandering to the back of the truck. He leaned down, studying the left taillight. Odd - it certainly seemed to be working...

"I dunno, it looks pretty intact to-"

Something hard slammed against the back of his head, and everything went black.

"You're sure that wrench didn't hurt him?" asked Jenny.

"Ah, it was just a light tap! Worst he'll have is a concussion."

Barb was propping the unfortunate truck driver against a tree, carefully moving his cap so that it looked like he was sleeping. To Sadie, he looked almost peaceful.

They had gotten very lucky with the truck. Not only was it big enough for Sadie's plan (which might more accurately called the beginnings of a plan), but a few crates in the back carried spare helmets and clean uniforms - perfect disguises to get past the military cordon on the beach. They'd taken it to Vidalia's house, and now Sour Cream and his mother were busy lifting a heavy object in a large black box into the back.

"You sure that'll work, Sour Cream?" Jenny called.

"This thing?" Sour Cream grinned. "This rig could raise the roof of the Empire City Building!"

"Right," nodded Jenny, "In that case, I'm gonna go grab some earplugs."

She headed inside.

Barb finished positioning the driver and nodded in satisfaction.

"Yep," she said, rubbing her hands together, "Works every time."

Sadie decided not to ask when her mother had done this before.

"Okay," Barb continued, "Come sit with me."

She sat down on the curb. Sadie hesitated - she knew that her mother wanted to talk, and she still didn't think she was ready - but slowly, she sat down next to her. They sat in silence for some time.

"You lied to me," said Sadie at last.

"I did," nodded Barb.

"Why?"

Barb pointed at the white star emblazoned on the door of the truck.

"I guess I wanted to keep them away from you," she replied, "Them, White Diamond... I didn't want you to get hurt."

She snorted.

"Heck of a lot of good that did," she sighed, "But I guess more than that, I wanted you to be... normal. I... I see how Steven feels about his gem, and..."

"You do?"

"I'm a mom, of course I do," Barb chuckled humourlessly, "Anyway, I didn't want that for you. I just wanted you to be... you."

Sadie looked down at her hands. She noted they were shaking, and with a strained flex of her knuckles, forced the tremble from her fingers. A small dance of warm light caught her eye, her gemstone waving a scarlet glimmer towards her periphery. It had gotten easier to understanding the way it felt, but seeing it, sometimes, still tied her stomach into knots. Excited or weary, she wasn't even sure anymore.

"And who am I, mom?" she asked, pulling her shirt down slightly and giving her gem a conflicted gaze, "Am I human? Am I a gem? Am I still Sadie Miller, or am I someone else?"

Barb sighed.

"No one can answer that but you," she replied, "But for what it's worth, you'll always be my little Sadie. Human or gem, that's the most precious thing in the universe to me."

Sadie looked her mother in the eye.

"If you could do this again," she asked, "Would you still have lied?"

Barb's mouth opened, but nothing came out. For a moment, she sat there, staring mutely at her daughter - then her face fell and she looked away.

"I don't know," she replied, "I honestly don't know."

Before Sadie could reply, Jenny and Buck emerged from the house. Both were dressed in the olive-green uniform and pot-shaped helmet of an army soldier - in Buck's case, it hung low over his eyes.

"What do they put on these uniforms?" asked Jenny, "They reek!"

"I think I need a bigger helmet," Buck said flatly.

Barb got to her feet.

"I better get changed," she said.

She was already halfway to the door before Sadie could reply.

Barb gritted her teeth as the truck approached the beach.

A checkpoint had been set up on the other side of the road from the car wash. About six bored-looking soldiers manned it, backed up by a small tank that had been parked on the sand. Clancy's car sat a few yards away - it had been impounded, as if the worst thing he'd done was park illegally.

"Hope these disguises hold up," she whispered.

Buck, who was sitting next to her in the cab, nodded but said nothing.

Carefully, Barb pulled the truck up next to the lead soldier. He wandered over, yawning as he did.

"What've you got?" he asked.

"What have you got, sergeant," replied Barb testily, pointing to the stripes on her shoulder.

"Uh... yes, sergeant, uh... wh-what're you carrying?" the soldier corrected anxiously.

"Thank you," nodded Barb, taking some satisfaction in his nervousness, "Private Dewey, the manifest."

Buck passed her a clipboard that the original truck driver had left in the glove compartment. Carefully, she handed it to the soldier.

"Let's see here," muttered the soldier, "K-rations, water canteens, ammunition; 7.62mm, spare rifle parts; M14, fire hose and tank..."

Barb tuned him out, watching the other soldiers and especially the tank. They paid her little heed - three of them were playing cards, and one sat on the curb playing a handheld games console. The tank's engine was turned off, and the commander was missing - perhaps he had gone in search of dinner, as sunset was not far off.

They weren't prepared for an attack from outside their perimeter. Good.

"...seven boxes of... what? What the heck do they think we're doing down here?"

She turned back to the soldier.

"I'll never understand the army," he muttered, handing the clipboard back, "Anyway, seems good, drive on through."

Barb nodded, driving the truck onto beach. It rumbled as it met the loose sands, skidding for a moment before driving onwards. She took a deep breath - this was it.

"Sour Cream," Buck called into the back, "Start getting it ready."

Slowly they turned the corner and approached the Temple. Barb swallowed - arranged outside the beach house in a roughly semicircular formation was a platoon of soldiers, backed up by about three machine guns and two tanks. They stood with bayonets fixed, and Captain Clark was positioned in front of them, revolver drawn. Clearly they were about to attack.

Behind them, Bradshaw stood next to Greg and Clancy, who were handcuffed and forced to their knees by a pair of soldiers each. He seemed to be lecturing them, although Barb couldn't make out his words. A few jeeps and trucks were parked next to them - slowly, Barb pulled the truck up by the Colonel's jeep.

Bradshaw looked up and wandered over. He looked decidedly annoyed.

"Does this look like the time for a resupply?" he demanded, "I'm about to launch an infantry assault!"

"Well, they waved me through," shrugged Barb, "Unless you don't want seven boxes of..."

"Unless you have the Miller girl, I don't care what you have!" snapped Bradshaw.

"If you touch her, I swear to god..." thundered Clancy.

"You're in no position to make demands, Agent Miller," said Bradshaw.

"Look, she's not here yet, right?" said Barb, "Why not just get this out of the way?"

Bradshaw sighed.

"Fine," he grunted, "Pull up behind the central machine gun post. They'll help you unload. I want you in and out in ten minutes."

Barb smiled and drove forward.

As they drove up in front of the temple, they saw the Crystal Gems on the balcony. Amethyst and Peridot were positioning a strange, pink cannon under the railing, while Garnet and Pearl were whispering something between each other. She couldn't see Steven, and absently wondered where he might be.

Before long, she'd pulled up behind a small hole in the middle of the perimeter. A machine gun had been placed on the rim of the hole, and the two gunners climbed out to help unload to truck.

Buck tapped the back of the cab.

"It's time."

The soldiers pulled the canvas flap on the back of the truck open.

"Wait, what the-"

BWAAAAAWUUBWUUBWUUBWUUBWUUBWUUB

The soldiers screamed and clutched their ears as the dubstep screeched over the beach. At the back of the truck was a truly enormous speaker, on top of which Sour Cream sat. He whooped and held up a pair of glowsticks, and pandemonium reigned.

Sadie leapt out of the truck, spear drawn. She swung into the heads of the two soldiers, knocking them both to the ground. Jenny jumped out after her, carrying a fire hose. She sprayed it towards a couple of soldiers that had begun to run over to them - the force of water sent them sprawling backwards.

Captain Clark staggered, clutching his ears. He bellowed out an order in an admirable attempt to be heard over the speaker.

"What are you scumbags doing?! Shoot them!"

He pulled his revolver, pointing it at Sadie.

He never got the chance to fire. Garnet leapt down from the sky, smashing down on him with her gauntlets. She pulled the revolver from his hand, crushing it as she made a fist. A particularly optimistic soldier charged her with her bayonet - she grabbed the barrel of her rifle, twisted it upwards and then punched her out.

The machine guns opened fire. Garnet raised her gauntlets, deflecting the bullets.

Pearl jumped into the air from the balcony, aiming her spear in midair. A series of four quick, aimed shots knocked out both of the machine gun teams before she landed. She raised her arms, lifting a cloud of sand into the air, and hurled it towards another half-dozen soldiers, blinding them.

There was a loud bang, and a tank shell flew over her head. One of the tanks was rolling forward, and she glanced over to the balcony.

"Cannon's ready!" shouted Peridot, "Say the phrase, say the phrase!"

"If every pork chop were perfect," bellowed Amethyst, "We wouldn't have hot dogs!"

The cannon fired in a plume of light. The beam slammed into the tank, blasting it upwards and flipping it onto its turret. Like an upside-down turtle, the tracks rolled helplessly against the sky.

The second tank began to roll up. Peridot turned to it, smirking. With a loud bang, it fired - Peridot held up her hands, and the shell froze in midair.

"No thanks," she said, "You can keep it!"

She turned the shell around and flung it back at the tank. It went right through the front armour and into the engine, setting the big machine ablaze. The crew leapt out of the hatches and dove for cover.

Amethyst grinned and jumped from the balcony, swinging her whip above her head. She landed and swung it out, entangling about eight soldiers and throwing them over her head. They landed hard on the sand, and Amethyst quickly retrieved her whip.

The last remaining soldier, hand shaking, pointed his rifle at Sadie. He pulled the trigger - it clicked uselessly, having jammed from the sand thrown up from the fighting. He cringed, throwing his rifle away and reaching for his pistol as he backed up against the truck.

The truck door flew open, slamming into the back of his head and knocking him out.

"You stay away from my girl!" Barb snapped, climbing down from the cab.

As the dust settled, Sadie found herself standing with her mother, her friends and the Crystal Gems in the middle of a beach strewn with unconscious, groaning soldiers. She had to be honest, she'd never seen herself ending up somewhere like this, but it felt strangely satisfying.

A slow, sarcastic clap filled the air.

Colonel Bradshaw stepped up, stepping over several of his own troops. Behind him, soldiers dragged Greg and Clancy towards them. They dropped them in front of the group, and Bradshaw drew his gun.

"Very well done," he said, "Very well done."

He pointed the barrel of the gun at Greg's head. Steven's father gulped, sweating. Sadie clenched her fists and grit her teeth.

"You went back on my agreement, Ms. Miller," he said, "But I'm gonna give you a chance to walk that back. You have five seconds to..."

"Sir!"

Bradshaw frowned, drawing his radio.

"What is it, Ernest?"

"...need backup... unidentified gem at the warehouse... has the kids... I don't think-no, stay back, stay back, I'm arm-"

The radio cut out abruptly.

"Warehouse?" Bradshaw whispered to himself.

All eyes turned to the ruined warehouse across the bay.

As if being painted onto a canvas, a starship uncloaked just above the building. It was roughly cigar shaped with a smooth, featureless surface, save for a small hump on the top which Sadie guessed might be the bridge. It was painted pure white, and an enormous symbol was emblazoned on the nose.

It was a white diamond.

Seraphinite was in a very good mood this evening.

She stood over the unconscious form of the treacherous Rose Quartz, wrapped securely in chains of water with his human friend. The human soldiers had mostly fled or been knocked out, but their leader - the one called Ernest King - was restrained a small distance away.

Reading Rose Quartz' mind was... strange. Ordinarily, Seraphinite could read a gem's personality, emotions and memories like a book, but looking at Rose was like gazing at a swirling sea of ink. Everything was indistinct and slightly wrong - some shapes she could vaguely recognise, like Pink Diamond and her palanquin, but others bore no resemblance to anything she'd ever known. It was as if her pristine gem psyche had been contaminated by the pollution of humanity. She felt slightly ill.

More worrying were the humans. If a mind was a book to her, full of pictures and words and poetry, than those of Connie and King were like padlocked diaries to which she had no key. She had never attempted to read a human before, of course - what reason would she have to? - and the idea that she might not be able to was... deeply concerning.

This would have to be reported. Reported and studied.

"The traitor's human ally," she declared, "Will be coming with us."

She glanced at Lapis, who nodded. She could feel the true emotions of the blue gem - anguish, fear, constant fruitless straining against her mental cage. It was an intoxicating feeling.

"What about the other human?" asked Lapis, "The Major King?"

"His fate," replied Seraphinite, "Shall depend on what happens next."

She turned to the ship's ramp, motioning for Lapis to follow.

"Come," she said, "It's time we met the Crystal Gems face-to-face."

Sadie's eyes widened as the white ship began to move.

It turned almost on a dime, like a record spun and then immediately stopped, and began to glide over the harbour towards them. It didn't hurry, advancing almost casually towards them.

Garnet's face was set into a frown, her teeth gritted. She turned to Peridot and pointed back up at the beach house.

"Get to the cannon," she ordered, "Now."

Peridot didn't comply. She stared at the oncoming ship, her face pale.

"That's a Coalescence-class command ship," Peridot replied, her voice shaking, "Your laser light cannons won't put a dent in it."

"Command ship?" Amethyst tilted her head, the tone of her voice attempting and failing to sound casual. "You mean like... like a diamond or something?"

Pearl was shaking, one hand over her mouth. Her eyes were wide and haunted - it looked to Sadie like she was about to burst into tears.

"Seraphinite."

Colonel Bradshaw took off his cap and ran a hand through his thinning hair, sighing heavily. His shoulders hunched slightly. Sadie took some satisfaction from the idea that he seemed to be having an increasingly bad evening.

"Clancy," he asked, "You mind telling me what that is?"

Clancy shook his head.

"I've never seen that ship," he replied, "But I've seen that symbol..."

He got to his feet, the soldier behind him immediately aiming his gun at his head in response. Clancy ignored him, facing the Colonel - his eyes were wild and his face was an ashen white.

"Whatever you want, Bradshaw, you can have it," he said desperately, "The gems, this town - you can drop a nuke on it for all I care! Just let Sadie go!"

"Oh wow," grunted Jenny, "Thanks Mr. Miller."

Sadie opened her mouth to add to that, but was stopped by a hand on her shoulder. She looked up - Barb stood there; she too looked like she'd seen a ghost. The ship was just about over them now, and it seemed to be slowly lowering...

"Sadie," she whispered, "He's right. You need to run. Run and don't look..."

An ear-splitting screech filled the air.

Sadie grabbed her ears and fell to her knees, wincing. She could hear screams around her, but she couldn't identify who they were. The sound that filled her ears was indescribable - like a sonic screech, nails on a chalkboard, a thousand vuvuzelas and the BHX logo sound all at once. It was like sandpaper running through her head, scratching and grinding her very thoughts, screaming, screaming...

And then it was gone.

Sadie looked up, her eyes watering. Amethyst was on the ground in front of her, hands over her head. Not far away, Garnet was helping Pearl to her feet, and Peridot was clumsily trying to pull herself up. Strangely, Bradshaw and his men were standing upright as if nothing had happened, and so were Greg and Clancy...

"...Sadie! What's going on, what happened?!"

Sadie sat up, looking at her mother. She was kneeling down next to her, rubbing her back in an attempt to calm her pain. Buck, Jenny and Sour Cream stood nearby - they too looked unharmed by the strange sound.

"Didn't... didn't you hear that?" asked Sadie.

"Hear what?" asked Buck.

"That noise!" replied Sadie, "The one that just..."

There was a deep, hydraulic hiss, and Sadie looked towards the ship. It was hovering low now, and a ramp had descended from the bottom of the hull. A gem marched down, tall and green with a silver uniform. Behind her was a blue gem, and Sadie couldn't help but think she'd seen her before.

"Lapis?" gasped Amethyst.

Lapis smirked, an expression that looked entirely wrong on her face. She held up her hands, and three bound figures floated down the ramp onto the beach. One was the military man Sadie had seen at the lighthouse, struggling desperately against his watery bonds. The other two were very, very familiar.

"Steven!" exclaimed Greg.

"Connie!" shouted Pearl.

"Don't give them anything!" shouted Connie, "We'll get out of this, just don't listen to her!"

The tall gem stepped onto the sands, her arms behind her back.

"Greetings," she said, "I am Seraphinite. I am here to see that justice is done."

Before anyone could reply, Bradshaw stepped forward.

"My name is Lieutenant-Colonel Ian Bradshaw, United States Army," he said, "State your business."

Seraphinite frowned.

"I am here," she said, slowly and deliberately, "To see that justice is done."

"And what do you mean by justice?" demanded Bradshaw.

"This gem," replied Seraphinite, pointing to a struggling Steven, "Is the most wanted war criminal in our society. She will be returned to Homeworld to complete his trial."

"Oh no you don't!"

Peridot stepped forward, dodging Garnet's attempts to hold her back. She pointed angrily at Seraphinite, her face twisting into a defiant scowl.

"Steven's a Crystal Gem!" she shouted, "And if you think you can just step onto this planet and capture one of our own, you have seriously miscalculated our combat prowess! Now back off, or we're gonna-"

Seraphinite drew a staff and pointed it at the green gem, nonchalantly firing a beam at her. It hit Peridot square in the chest - she disappeared in a plume of green smoke, her gem falling to the sand.

"Peridot!"

Amethyst ran forward and grabbed her gem, cradling it in her arms.

"Okay," nodded Bradshaw, "And why exactly do you want that little girl? Or Major King?"

"Sir, please, don't let them take me!" shouted King, distraught.

"I'm working on it," Bradshaw called back.

"I wish to interrogate her," replied Seraphinite, "And ascertain her connection to the rebel. As for your officer, we really couldn't care less about him - although he'd be an interesting test subject."

Bradshaw nodded.

"And if I were to give you the Uni... Rose Quartz and Maheswaran, would you leave the Earth?" he asked.

"What?!" exclaimed Greg, "You can't just give them Steven and Connie! I-it's not your decision to make!"

"I thought you're supposed to be protecting people!" shouted Steven, "This isn't protecting humanity!"

"It is," replied Bradshaw, "In a very pragmatic way."

Seraphinite sneered.

"I would have no reason to return," she replied, "There'd be... nothing for me to come back to."

Bradshaw scratched his chin.

"Fine," he said, "Take them all. I'll throw in King to sweeten the deal."

"Sir?!" exclaimed King.

"Take them all," repeated Bradshaw, "And don't come back."

Seraphinite nodded. "Very well."

"But... but, sir, you can't... you can't!" screamed King.

"Sorry, Major, but saving the planet requires sacrifices," shrugged Bradshaw, "Goodbye, Emmet."

King's face fell into a look of utter shock and betrayal.

"...Ernest, sir."

Bradshaw smirked.

"Thank you, Ernest," he replied.

Seraphinite clicked her fingers, and King was floated up into the ship. Slowly, Steven and Connie began to follow.

"Amethyst! Pearl! Garnet!" called Steven, "Dad!"

"We'll get out of this!" Connie yelled, her brave words undercut by the tears beginning to run down her cheeks, "Tell my parents not to give up! We'll... we'll be back!"

Sadie watched numbly as they began to disappear from view. She felt so helpless - something had to be done, but everyone was standing around in mute shock. Somebody had to step up. Anybody!

She clenched her fists. She'd have to do.

Sadie leapt to her feet, drawing her spear once more. She screamed a battle cry as she charged towards the Homeworld gem.

"Sadie, no!" exclaimed Barb.

"Stay back, stay back!" shrieked Clancy.

Seraphinite smirked again. Her eyes flashed.

The screech filled Sadie's mind again. She fell to the ground, just inches away from Seraphinite's feet, screaming as she clutched her ears. Everything else was forgotten - all she wanted was to be free of this terrible, terrible...

It was gone again, but before she could even process her respite, she was yanked upwards up the collar, finding herself at eye level with the tall green gem.

"Interesting," she said, "You look like a human, but it seems..."

She pulled down Sadie's collar with her free hand, looking down at her gem.

"Ruby," she nodded, "1GK, Kindergarten 1-302-Sigma, Batch 21002. That was a bad batch, if I remember correctly."

"You... you got all that from looking at my gem?" quizzed Sadie.

Seraphinite pursed her lips.

"You'll require further study," she said, "You're coming with me."

"No!"

Barb ran towards them, fists clenched.

"You take my baby over my dead-"

BANG.

Barb screeched and fell to the ground. The sand around her left leg was slowly stained red - Sadie gasped in horror.

"Mom!"

She looked over to Bradshaw, who was holstering his smoking pistol.

"Please don't disrupt our diplomacy, Ms. Miller," he said smugly.

Sadie struggled against Seraphinite's grip.

"You dirty son of a... that's my mom, you bastard!" she began to scream, "If you... if anything happens to her, I..."

"Sadie..."

Barb was crawling across the sand, reaching for her daughter.

"I won't... I won't let them take you... I won't..."

She passed out in the sand.

"MOM!"

Seraphinite sneered.

"Does anybody else want to delay my departure?" she asked.

She looked over to Pearl. The tall gem was frozen in place, tears running down her face. Her hands were clutched over her mouth - if she'd had fingernails, Sadie reckoned they'd be cutting her skin. What was she doing? It wasn't like Pearl to freeze up, was it?

"Ah," said Seraphinite, "A gag order. How quaint. Let's see what Rose made you hide."

She gazed at Pearl, her eyes flashing again. Pearl screamed, falling to her knees and clutching her head. Her screech was primal and unsettling - from a gem that was always so melodic and rhythmic, hearing that horrific, guttural sound of utter agony chilled Sadie to the bone.

Seraphinite frowned.

"I see," she said, simply.

She snapped her fingers. There was a poof, and Pearl was gone - her gem landing with a dull thud on the sand.

"This changes things," muttered Seraphinite, "Lapis Lazuli, we must leave now."

She tucked Sadie under her arm and turned around. Sadie looked back, struggling against the gem's grip as she and Lapis walked up the ramp, floating Steven and Connie up next to them.

"No! I can't leave mom! I-I can't leave mom!" shouted Sadie.

"You can and you will," replied Seraphinite, "Try not to dwell on it. We won't be back."

Down on the beach, her friends were calling her name. Jenny began to run towards the ramp - in a swift motion, Garnet grabbed her by the shoulder and held her back. Greg was screaming Steven's name, trying desperately to escape his bonds. Clancy stared at the sand, his face weary and worn. A soldier was carrying Barb off the beach, but whether that was to help her or to get her out of the way, Sadie couldn't tell.

A cry followed them. It sounded like Garnet.

"You won't win," she said, "We'll get them all back!"

Seraphinite rolled her eyes.

"I suppose we'd better make sure they don't follow," she said.

Her eyes flashed. The screeching came again, cutting deep into Sadie's thoughts. She closed her eyes and screamed, weeping as the pain cut through her psyche. She tried to focus on something, anything but the pain.

Lars. The band. The fire. The mall. Shapeshifting. The worm. The army. Seraphinite. Her mother, bleeding from her leg. Your fault. Your fault.

Finally, Sadie drifted into a deep, blissful darkness.

[spamzineglasgow]

(HOT TAKE) Quarantine Phenomenology: The Curious Case of Daddy Conte, by Denise Bonetti

‘Teenage by design’? SPAM founder and editor-in-chief Denise Bonetti, tapping into her Italian roots, takes us on a whirlwind journey around the lustful theme park that is meme space in the time of quarantine. For many, especially those who aren’t on the frontline as key workers, self-isolation is thrusting us back into a rude adolescence. Having exhausted our usual channels of recursive entertainment, where better to look than to the political (yes, wybi?!) heroes of meatspace to fantasise the intimacies and reassurances we’re otherwise deprived of. 

(CW: sexually explicit references)

> Comedian Dan Sebree tweeted that this whole quarantine situation is the closest any of us millennials will get to retirement. The joke is funny because it’s most likely true: the idea of people in my age bracket (mid-20s to mid-30s) ever retiring seems like a fairytale we tell ourselves to keep our boomer parents happy, something we play along to because frankly it’s easier than sharing the extent of our doubts in the future. (Find someone in their 20s who can say ‘when we all retire’ without a shred of irony).

> Sebree is right, most of us are playing retirees now. 80% of your salary to repot your plants, make sourdough, and fend off waves of existential dread here and there: not too shabby - if you used to have a stable job, that is. Things obviously aren’t so chill for quite literally everyone else: NHS workers, shopkeepers, supermarket employees, people on zero-hour contracts (which make up around 9% of all the UK workforce under 25), gig economy workers, freelancers by choice, people whose employers can’t be bothered putting them on payroll, and have therefore decided for them that they’ll have to be freelancers - the list goes on. 

> Yet beyond the retirement vibes, there is a stage of life that seems even more appropriate to represent the mood that this pandemic isolation has been creating. We are feeling manic and depressive, anxious and idyllic, bored and obsessive; we have been dying our hair and we’re allowing social media challenges and email chains to make a comeback ( 😩). We’re raging that we’re being told how & when we can go out, and we want to see our friends like our life depended on it. I hate to be the one to break it to you, but we’ve all gone back to being teenagers. (For some of us, the transformation is even more literal: everyone who’s had to move back to their parents tag yourselves.)

> In ‘Glitching the Collective Mind’ a three-part essay published on SPAM a few months ago, Dan Power noted how ‘spending too long online (or rather, too long outside of the real world)’ can easily give way to ‘feelings of melancholic or manic absurdity’ by way of ‘saturating the mind’ with the infinite possibilities of content. In the same essay, Power reflects on the nature of the virtual space this content is localised in, what Grafton Tanner has called the ‘virtual plaza’: a non-place through which ‘we drift and consume, lulled by the saccharine tones of muzak’. Power argues that what the ‘non-local’, ‘homogenized’ structure of the virtual plaza takes away is precisely that something around which the occupants can build a sense of identity: ‘When the features which distinguish one place from another are removed, stable sense of belonging and understanding are removed with them’. 

> Although Power could not have predicted this current weirdness, I am interested in his linking the internet’s hypertrophic, endless-scroll format, eradicated from any sense of place as we know it, to its capacity both to strip us of our identity, and to reduce us to a melancholic, manic mess - a passive, wide-awake anonymous content-consumer, lying in bed between waves of anxiety. A teenager who is grappling with their identity because they’re not quite sure where their emotions are coming from - literally and metaphorically.

> Critic Amanda Hess has recently written in The New York Times about the comfort of playing childhood video games during the lockdown. ‘It’s not so much that I miss my childhood’, she writes as she becomes re-obsessed with her 11-year-old self’s favourite game, Myst, ‘as that I feel seized by it’. And I, currently taking a break from a 12-hour The Sims 2 Bon Voyage build-mode marathon to write this, can only confirm such claims. 

> I’m sure the fact that we gravitate towards this simple kind of pastime has a lot to do with the fact that no one can be arsed engaging with highbrow content during such traumatic times. (Let me take a break from following the dead count on BBC News by watching Battleship Potemkin, said no one ever.) However it’s not only that we’re drawn to accessible content, it’s that we are drawn exactly to the kind of activities that our teenage selves used to be into. (Otherwise, explain why The Sims 2 is having a resurgence - sixteen years after its release [!], and not either of its two successors.)

> If nostalgia is generally understood as originating more in the disappointments of reality than in the draw of the object of nostalgia itself, then the grimness of the pandemic is also to blame for the current millennial vintage trends. As Hess observed elsewhere, the quarantine has forced us into lockdown with the very devices designed to amplify our obsessions, cranking up that very fixative impulse that makes adolescence the curse and blessing that we all know.

> In Italy, where the full lockdown has been going on for over 5 weeks now, the signs of this 30-going-13 epidemic are in full swing. Everybody knows about Italians competing with each other on who can sing the cringiest medley of 00s songs from their balconies. But there’s something even more beautiful that the Italians are doing, and The Answer May Shock You. Platonic love has infiltrated every corner of Italian social media, and the object, I tell you, is no one other the prime minister Giuseppe Conte.

> Just like teenage love, the obsession is platonic socially-distant just as much as it is carnal. ‘Giuseppe Conte’ has reportedly been amongst the most searched terms on Pornhub over the last few weeks. Spurred by sheer investigative rigour I decided to carry out further research on the platform, and can confirm that the PM-themed content abounds. The material itself varies from adorably chaste, SFW picture montages of the prime minister (‘ITALIAN PRIME MINISTER GIUSEPPE CONTE MAKE YOU CUM HARD’, as uploaded by user TheMinisterOfLove), to the literal hour-long speeches that the PM has delivered to the senate, to more visually explicit heart-reacts to the government’s directives (‘HUGE CUMSHOT WHILE LISTENING DADDY GIUSEPPE CONTE’). 

> Pornography aside, the memes have taken over the Italian gram and Twitter. It all started when influencer and entrepreneur Chiara Ferragni regrammed to her 19.5m followers a post by the Instagram page @daddy.conte back in March, erroneously crediting it to @lebimbedigiuseppeconte (Giuseppe Conte’s Little Girls) - now two of the most popular hormone city pages dedicated to the PM. The content is genuinely too much and too good for me to present exhaustively, but I need to show you some favourites so you can get with the vibe (all from @daddy.conte):

[‘Italian daddy locks his girls home’]

[’From today, I declare your smile illegal’]

[’There’s a smile underneath that face mask’]

[’hey baby’ / ‘daddy come to me, my parents aren’t home’ / ‘WHAT’]

[’don’t you dare get close to my girls’]

[’who wants a goodnight story?’]

[’Hi gorgeous, if you’re reading this it’s because i’ve been trapped in a wormhole the only way for you to free me is to stay home until 4th April please do it there is no time i know you can save me baby’] [lol at how quickly this has aged]

>The spinoffs quickly proliferated, I’m talking dozens and dozens of pages devoted to the PM’s fatherly aura and classic good looks - most of them with not a huge amount of followers; a sort of decentralised, massively participatory network of adolescent erotic surplus. Some of these pages specialise in things like the PM’s smile or dimples (for the more faint of heart), inscribing the phenomenon in that Renaissance love lyric convention of praising the object of love’s beauty through a catalogue of their body parts. 

>A similar sexy/cute type veneration also seems to have developed radially around other Italian political figures such as President Sergio Mattarella, however predicated on a completely different set of desirable traits. Conte’s cult is all about a sort of sub/authoritarian kink power dynamic: ‘Dom daddy tell me what to do’. (Problematic? Potentially. However, wholesome? Absolutely). Mattarella’s cult is inevitably linked to the Italian President’s political function, that of protecting the Constitution, coordinating the three branches of government while heading none. A sort of hands-off grandaddy figure there to break up fights, if you will. Combined with his sweet mannerisms, the result is more of a GILF, sitting-together-on-the-porch kind of desirability, as hinted at by the following meme: (@lebimbedisergiomattarella)

> As a testament to this systematic linkage between quarantine and teenage emotional turmoil, the same dynamic of desire has also developed around political figures in the US. Foremost examples are New York Governor Andrew Cuomo (who we now think might have nipple piercings), and Kentucky Governor Andy Beshear - a ‘clean-cut sex symbol for the coronavirus age’ according to this Salon article explaining how ‘his calm and empathetic leadership’ (read: wholesome daddy energy) have thousands of thirsty people in self-isolation lust after him (via memes, of course).

> The ethos of memes in general is already teenage by design (hypertrophic, impulsive, obsessive, thriving on a sort of possessed desire towards repetition that I refuse to compare to masturbation). But there’s something special about the dreamy, sublimated, Platonic, cute-aggressive nature of these memes in particular that makes them the epitome not only of #quarantinevibes, but also of the virtual plaza’s mood, more broadly.  Quarantine has exposed and legitimised, exacerbated and normalised, the internet’s power to make us regress into horny, anxious blobs. And memes like these are the very crystallisation of that ambivalent process. 

> Analysis aside, we love a meme (always already), and we love a femme fandom moment. We stan the birth of a wholesome masculinity mythology for 2020. I can think of worse Internet Utopias. Now back 2 The Sims.

-

Text: Denise Bonetti

Lead Image credit: @onlyconte (Instagram)

Published: 17/4/20

[eggsyunwinftw]

Imagine Being Kidnapped by Kingsman’s Old Enemies

A/N: Hey pals! Sorry I’ve not updated in a while, I have mocks next week so things will be a bit slower :( hope that’s okay, and I’ll queue up some fics so you can’t avoid me ;P. ALSO I posted this on the wrong blog earlier sorryyyyy :P This was requested by @thestrawberryblondehobbitbatch so I hope you like it!

Warnings: Violence, kidnapping, swearing.

You woke up to hushed voices and a throbbing headache.

Prying your eyes open, you tried to reach up and rub them - only to find your hands tied behind your back, tight enough so you could feel the zip ties digging into your wrists.

“What the fuck?” You mumbled, voice still groggy from being unconscious. In the darkness, you could just make out the figures huddled in the corner of the room as they glanced over at your, still deep in conversation.

You felt a shiver of fear run through your body. These people were definitely not your friends; the guns in their hands and the pain in your head could attest to that. So who were they?

It was then that one of the silhouettes made their way out of the darkness. He was a tall, broad-shouldered man and he walked with the sharp posture of a soldier. There was a shotgun holstered on his thigh and he spun a knife between his fingers, the metal reflecting what little light there was in the room.

“Good. You’re awake.” he moved closer, kneeling in front of you, eyes locked on yours. You thought you recognised him; his voice and movements seemed familiar somehow.

“I see you’ve remembered me. I remember you, Emrys. You took down my organisation five years ago - you and Galahad, was it?” You knew exactly what he meant. Five years ago, when you’d only just joined Kingsman, you took your first mission with Agent Galahad. It was rough, and cold - three weeks in Russia in December, two of which were spent staking out the gang in an abandoned barn.

You recognised the man then. He was the ringleader of the operation that shipped drugs and body parts in an illegal trade network through Europe. Agent Galahad was new to Kingsman as well, so you worked well together, with him in the field and you hacking your way into the gang’s systems with ease.

Agent Galahad asked you out when you got back. You fell asleep on him in the cab, but he carried you inside and left a sticky note on your forehead with a time and a place.

(He did the same thing four years later when he proposed.)

“Yep, that was us. We fucked your operation right up, didn’t we?” You smirked at him, and he placed a calloused hand on your shoulder, making you flinch.

“You did indeed. But now -” He paused to look back at the others, two of whom were unlocking the cell door, “-you can help us fix it.” You rolled your eyes but felt fear gripping your core.

“How?” The man smiled, showing missing teeth and several gold fillings. You saw one of the others moving forwards, with a long chain that he quickly pulled around your ankles, tying you up completely. You tried to kick him, and hit his nose - he let out a long string of curses and the leader glared at you, raising a meaty fist that slapped your cheek.

“Time to go, Agent.” He grabbed you around the waist and threw you over his shoulder, and you screamed, wriggling and squirming but held still in his uncomfortable grasp.

They led you down a tunnel, standing close to the walls and walking in perfect formation. The man carrying you stood at the back, and as you moved your hands to maintain the feeling, you found that you could reach the wall. Bracing yourself, you dug your nails into the wooden wall and scratched four lines across it. At least if Kingsman found this tunnel, they might guess where you were.

Blood gathered under your nails and splinters embedded themselves in your fingers, but you kept scratching, leaving a long trail down the wall.

The tunnel made a sudden turn, and the walls turned to stone. The group picked up their pace, walking towards a door at the end of the tunnel. When they pushed it open, you saw a room similar to your cell, but with a computer in front of a cast iron chair.

Dropping you unceremoniously into the chair, the leader stepped back and pressed a button. A set of steel cuffs wrapped around your ankles, and just as your hands were freed, they tied a rope tightly around your waist.

“You’re going to break into the secret service computer network. And you’ll implant a virus that can destroy their security, releasing the names of their undercover agents and any weapons plans they have. We’ll use them as leverage and your government will give us the resources we need. Understand?”

You looked at him, eyebrows raised. “You want me to hack into MI6?” He nodded, and his gang began to whisper together.

He held up a hand and the mumbling stopped. “That’s correct. Can you do it?” You bit back the temptation to roll your eyes and settled for breathing deeply.

“What if I don’t do it?” The leader smiled condescendingly, and spun his knife around between his fingers, dangerously close to your face.

“Then we’ll kill you, Agent. Slowly and painfully. Are you willing to take that chance?”

Panic began to build in your chest. You tried to compress it; you were an agent, a good one too. You squeezed your hands together, stroking your wedding ring and taking a breath.

“Try me."
 ***

An hour later, and several more bruises later, you still wouldn’t crack. The gang leader (whose name was Sebastian) had tried all manner of methods to convince you help, but none of them had worked. You were still hoping that some other Kingsman agent would rush in to save you.

Somehow, Sebastian cottoned onto this. "They’re not coming for you Agent. They’ve given up on you. You might as well help us now because your Galahad’s clearly not coming to get you.”

Eggsy. Would he really give up on you? You’d both promised each other years before that you would always come for each other. When he saved you from Valentine, when you didn’t sleep for a week so you could watch over him on a dangerous mission - even when everyone else stopped hoping, you two had faith in each other.

“Alright,” You murmured, just loud enough for Sebastian to hear. “I’ll do it.”

“Good, agent. You did the right thing. Pity it took you so long,” He smirked at you, pushing the table with the computer closer to you. Fisting a hand in your hair, he yanked your head close to his.

“If you betray us, I will end you. You have two hours.”

**

The familiar feeling of a keyboard helped to calm you racing heartbeat. You saw that they’d already prepared the software - they just needed you to locate the MI6 system, get past the firewalls, and find the relevant information.

When you began to type, the code felt foreign to your hands. You had taught many agents how to input it, but you’d been waiting to use it for an emergency.

“C'mon, Eggsy, you have to learn this! What if you can’t get out of trouble some day?” Eggsy grinned at you, wiggling his eyebrows.

“I’ll wait for you to come ‘n find me. S'not like I’d let you get rid of me so easily,” You rolled your eyes dramatically; Eggsy leant across the desk, seemingly about to whisper in your ear. Until he pressed his lips to yours and grabbed your waist, pulling you closer.

You always felt butterflies when you thought of the emergency code. This time, it was because of the barrel of a gun you felt pressed into your head.

Merlin would know where you were. If you could just finish the code, it would be less than an hour until they found you. Then all you had to do was pretend to hack until Kingsman got you out.

Enter. All you had to do was wait. For once, you let yourself feel proud, for developing the code that had just sent your location and a distress signal to Kingsman headquarters.

Sebastian pressed the gun harder into your head. “What was that? Are you in?” You shook your head, typing in all the codes you could think of. You just had to bide your time.

“Not yet. It takes time, you know. They have some complex encryptions,” He huffed, but let you get back to work.

Come on, Eggsy. I need you.

***

Your two hours were almost up.

The gun against your head wasn’t pressed as hard; you could still feel the dull ache the pressure had left.

Sebastian was getting desperate.

“Have you done it yet? You have five minutes, agent, and then I will kill you,” You didn’t look back at him, typing even faster. You entered random codes, anything to make you look like you were working.

Bang!

The gang members’ heads all turned to the door. What was that noise? It sounded like… a gunshot.

“What the hell was that?” Hissed Sebastian. Immediately, he took the safety off of his gun, and his cronies began to pull out weapons.

Come on Eggsy, you thought.

Grabbing your arm, Sebastian pressed something on the chair that released the cuffs on your ankles. He yanked you out of the chair, pulling you in front of him and pressing the gun against your temple. “If this is your agency… I won’t hesitate, Emrys,” You felt hope building in your chest.

There were footsteps pounding the corridor outside. The sound of a gunshot reverberated through the room - please, let it be Eggsy. Suddenly a silence fell. Sebastian didn’t make a noise, and neither did the intruder on the other side of the door.

Until the door was kicked through, and a man in a smartly tailored suit stood there, holding a gun and an umbrella.

“I think you’ve got our hacker, bruv.” Sebastian jumped into action, firing two shots at Eggsy - who dove out of the way with a practised ease and kicked the legs of two other guys from underneath them. with Sebastian distracted, you saw your chance; you twisted his arm backwards and brought your knee to his stomach, sending him sprawling on the stone floor. You ripped the gun from his hands and kicked him, knocking him out.

“Y/N! Behind you!” Cried Eggsy, and you turned around just in time as a woman came up to you, a knife pointed straight at your throat. You threw a punch at her and she reeled backwards, where Eggsy threw her against the wall. There were only two people left, and they stood in the corner of the room, pointing their guns at you and Eggsy. The pair of you made eye contact and dove to the side as the pair shot at you.

You saw Eggsy’s umbrella lying near you, and grabbed it, pulling it towards the two of you. Opening it out, you felt the impact of the bullets and frantically pressed a button on the handle. It sent out a flash of light, and you flinched, but heard the sound of two bodies dropping to the ground.

Peering out from around the umbrella, you saw that the entire gang lay on the floor, dead or unconscious. Slumping against the wall, you looked up at Eggsy, who was staring at you.

“Glad you could make it Eggsy,” He shot you a smile, but the pair of you jumped as a sudden movement caught your eye. It was Sebastian and in his hand a remote. A cut was dripping blood down his face, but he looked you dead in the eyes and pressed a button.

“Security measure,” He whispered, before collapsing. Eggsy looked confused, and you felt the same; until the sound of ticking hit your ears.

Eggsy looked at you, panicked. “What the fuck is that?” Furrowing your brow in concentration, you tried to figure it out. Security measure? What would they have used -

“It’s a bomb! Fuck, Eggsy, we need to go,” Eyes wide, Eggsy grabbed your hand and sprinted out of the room, down the tunnel you had both come through. The ticking seemed to speed up - or maybe it was the blood pounding in your head as your pulse raced. There was a door up ahead, or at least the frame of a door that had clearly been kicked down.

The two of you ran faster still, the ticking reaching a crescendo and the door coming ever closer. Just a bit further, and you were safe -

***

The explosion could be heard from miles away.

It sent a fall of rocks down the mountain, and the entrance to the cave collapsed. No one inside could have survived - at least, that was what Merlin told the pair of you when you were sat safely in the plane, flying far away.

“And Emrys - good to know your code works. And well done on not letting those fuckers do anything awful. Galahad, good job too. But if you ever try and threaten me into saving your wife faster again, I will end you.” There was humour in his voice, and he rolled his eyes affectionately when Eggsy wrapped an arm around your shoulders.

You and Eggsy left the cockpit of the plane, ready to remove your dusty, blood-stained clothes.

“Glad you’re alright, babe. You were fuckin’ badass in there. How did you get 'em to let you use a computer?” You told him the whole story and he listened intently. As you finished, a curious expression appeared on his face.

“So what did you do if you weren’t hackin’ into MI6?” You hummed, unsure. Trying to think back over the codes you used, you were hit with a sudden realisation.

Biting your lip, you replied, “I just used whatever codes I could think of. They just happened to be the ones I used when Roxy and I hacked Harry’s computer last month…” Eggsy looked shocked, but couldn’t hold in his laughter.

“Oh my God, babe. You mean you -” He was overcome with laughter, and you grinned in mock shame.

“Yeah. I linked all their servers to a porn website. Oh god.”

Eggsy pulled you down onto the seat next to him, kissing you deeply.

“I fuckin’ love you, Y/N,” You smiled into the kiss, reaching a hand up to stroke his cheek.

“Love you too, Eggsy.”

[becomeungovernable]

CSSSA Writing Application

So, here it is! I noticed a grammar mistake in my B, and descended to Hell but hopefully they’re looking for content not grammar quality. Also, I interpreted the B as a memoir reflecting back on something, so that was the way I wrote it and I’m terrified I did it wrong. 

Assignment A

Writing is vastly complex, a process of finding the right words to string together to convey a message or an image. For myself, writing is a coping method. I’ve never been exactly open about how I’m feeling, or very good at conveying those emotions. However, when I was fairly young, around eight, I picked up Harry Potter for the first time. I adored it, and still do, and I soon found myself creating my own characters, building stories whenever I had the chance. Of course, they were not very good, seeing as I was nine at that point, but reading various authors taught me to grow as a writer. From Lin Manuel Miranda, to Suzanne Collins, to George R.R. Martin, I grew from those I read, using their creativity and much more superior knowledge to fine tune my characters into actual people. I also find myself applying lessons of psychology and history I learn from school into my characters and worlds, paralleling people and events into fictional places, and having them overcome the odds. That’s why I write, to create real people who can overcome standards set upon them, whether it be from others or society.

Assignment B

At the age of fourteen, I was uncertain of many things about myself, most prominently my sexuality and gender identity. They were constant nagging questions at the back of my mind, a weight upon my shoulders that I could not shake no matter how hard I tried, the feeling of falling with no ground in sight. These questions bore strange consequences, some of which were reflected on the depression that would fall upon me eventually, but most came from other people. Lingering looks, slightly too loud whispers, but never to my face. That was, until about three weeks until my fifteenth birthday. By then, I had established that I was most certainly some form of gay as well as a form of transgender, thought I did not know what form yet, and had come to terms with it. However, when I was shopping with my older sister, I encountered a person who openly despised me for who I was. It a woman, with a strange amount of hatred in her face for a child she had never met. It was the first time the slur “faggot” was thrown my way, and it shattered my heart. I left there, hurt and confused, but rather than letting it make me angry, I made a decision. I want to spread love and tolerance, even to those who will not return it. That is the way I can feel welcome, and hopefully that woman who threw that slur my way will be able to find the way to extend the hand of brotherhood to me in return.

Assignment C

Scene opens on a lavish room, adorned with exceptional paintings and decorations. ADRIAN, a prepossessing man in his late late teens, sits forward in an armchair by a fireplace, eyes fixated on the flames. Enter ROSELYN, ADRIAN’S elder sister and current guardian, a woman in her mid twenties. Her eyes linger on the armchair as she moves into the room.

ADRIAN: Can I ask you something, Rosie?

ROSELYN: Shoot away, little brother.

ADRIAN: So, these guys I know are having a party, and I was wondering if I could go. It’ll be...

ROSELYN: (Interrupting) Who? Anybody I know?

ADRIAN: Oh, y’know, Matthew, Danny, Micah, Jonathan, … (Mumbling) Michael…

ROSELYN: (Fiercely) Absolutely not.

ADRIAN: Oh, c’mon, Rosie! It’ll be the biggest party of the year, everyone will be there!

ROSELYN: Which almost certainly means there will be people doing illegal things there! Drugs, alcohol, so many bad influences. Especially Michael, what was he expelled for again?

ADRIAN: Having a gun on campus and gang affiliations…

ROSELYN: I don’t want you getting mixed up with people like that, you might end up in a gang! Then you can kiss your full-ride scholarship goodbye, it would be gone in an instant. What would dad say if he were here?

ADRIAN: Fine! I won’t go! (Muttering bitterly) You’re almost as bad as mom. (Suddenly, he looks mortified with himself) Christ, I didn’t mean that Rosie, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.

ROSELYN: Don’t. (She picks up what she was looking for, looking extraordinarily hurt) I’ll order a pizza for tonight, make sure you get your homework done.

Assignment D

The young woman had never been so afraid.

Scrawny, shaking knees, a slender blade in slim, quivering hands, yellow irises darting to any sound she heard, she had never felt fear like this before. A lithe form hunched over, trying not to be significant in any way. Constantly, she adjusted her footing, unable to find any particular position she was comfortable with. Creator, she was a fool.

She could never know her people would be under attack in such a way. They were a peaceful folk, farmers and fishermen, who never expected anything very exciting to come their way. They lived, they worked, they died. That was, until the creature showed up.

Nobody really knew what it looked like, because if you saw it, you were more than likely dead. It lurked in the wetlands of Exandria, preying mostly on the fishermen. Her people would only find melted skeletons, with bits of flesh clinging to them. The young woman quivered at the thought.

The square of the town was abandoned, excluding the woman waiting alone for her fate. Everyone with sense, that being everyone except for her, were in hiding as soon the effulgence of the moon crested over the horizon. Curtained windows and barred doors were in every direction, as those inside awaited her screams of agony.

She brushed a lock of unpigmented hair from her eyes, tucking it behind one of her horns as she shifted her footing and her grip on her sword. With one hand, she released the blade and reached up to touch the holy symbol around her neck. Creator, give her strength and wisdom to defeat this foe born far from your kind gaze.

Out of the corner of her eye, the woman saw a small child being ushered away from a curtained window, and was suddenly reminded of her brother, barely ten, horns just beginning to sprout from his brow. Curious blue eyes, an innocent optimism that his big sister would succeed in defeating the creature. For his future, she thought fiercely. For his hopes and dreams.

Suddenly, she heard a low hissing behind her, and the woman turned slowly, fingers tightening around the hilt of the sword. Behind her there was a black scaled creature, pointed teeth bared and coated with what she assumed was some sort of acidic solution. The woman was suddenly filled with fury and courage, and she lifted her sword.

“Creator, give your daughter the strength she needs to defeat this abomination born far from your gaze!” She shrieked, baring her own painted teeth to the lizard-like obscenity before her. “Cloak me in your light, guide my sword true, and let this creature fall to avenge those of your children that have already fallen!”

And with a fierce battle cry, the woman barreled forward, swinging her sword in an arc of deadly metal. As she moved, the blade burst into white, divine fire, and she knew the Creator looked down upon her with favor.

Assignment E

I was red and she was blue

She was light streaming through a window

A ship sailing through fog

The sky at daybreak, streaked with pink

The brief moment before the break of dawn

The soft sound of a pencil beginning a sketch

The first snow of the season

Being curled in a corner with a favorite book

A secluded and private garden

The satisfaction of finishing important work

The first dance between spouses at a wedding

‘The beach on a rainy day

A gentle sea breeze on an exposed face

An entirely empty house

Light being reflected on the surface of water

A gentle rainstorm on a summer’s evening

An empty library after school got out

A lazy Saturday morning spent in bed

Gentle background music at a family dinner

A vacant forest glade, abandoned by the world

A content night with a lover

I was a booming, sold-out concert

The moment at the top of a rollercoaster

The lights of the city, late at night

Instinct driving each step further

The buzz of a crowd at a sporting event

The rush of adrenaline whilst going down steep slopes

A sports match between rivals

A sudden clap of thunder

A city street, bustling with people

The tense moment before a race

The crash of waves on rocky cliffs

A breath held in suspense

Falling through open air

A storm about to break

The sky at sunset, streaked with reds and oranges

Pulls for air between breathless pants

The instant before an anticipated event

Teasing chides from a good friend

Exhilarated laughs while being daring

The thick air of a horror movie

A moment waiting to happen

I was red and she was blue

And I found that I loved blue

And that’s it! My E is a two tone poem, so formatting is weird on Tumblr, but it’s fine on my app.

Edit: Oh my god what has this hellsite done to the formatting on my poem I can’t even fix it.

[synthaphone]

i’m actively screwing myself over, like, all of the time

under the cut is a thing here for mostly my own reference because i need to actually write down what i need to do so that i can start doing it

it is also here as a starting point to being more transparent with people i’m working for (i need to contact these people directly, but if they see this before i message them, they’ll at least know that i haven’t forgotten them/i’m not waiting for them to forget or something). 

if i do owe you something on here, please do not feel guilty about stressing me out, this is my own dang fault and i want to try and figure this shit out and get it finished, because if i can do that then my whole life will get monumentally better by like, a MASSIVE margin, i can’t even fathom having the weight of this stuff off of my shoulders and i should use that as motivation to power me through this stuff

anyway

stuff i gotta do:

SCHOOL:

GROUP PROJECT

character sheet for group project

get out sketchbook to double check the design

open a new photoshop document

draw the thing (include construction guides)

put thing in google drive

text group to let them know i put the thing in there

read the textbook chapters i didn’t read

look up which chapters we’re supposed to read

check to see when the assignment that requires the reading is due

SENIOR PROJECT 1

update my trello page and my checkpoints

open the checkpoints sheet, for the love of god why don’t you do this

clean up character sheets

make the orbs on orbo more dimensional, add in one more angle to view orbo from, increase the size of the height chart, dress it up to look more professional

take existing character sheet for zookeeper and fix it up

finish the backgrounds

give ash the folders i made for the backgrounds

potentially just loan them your thumb drive so that it’s better organized?? or make a google drive for that

make color scripts and give these to them for each scene

COMPILE NEW ANIMATIC for presentation next class

put the images for the AfterEffects file into my thumb drive so that i can actually use the file WITH IMAGES while at school 

WORLD MYTHOLOGY

dude you’re fuckin’ failing world mythology, i mean i know that this is the class you decided to prioritize last but holy god you could at least TRY to get a passing grade so that your parents don’t have to pay for you to take the class AGAIN over the summer

check upcoming deadlines

post in the thread before sunday night

read the chapters for world mythology and watch any talks or episodes of black mirror the professor inevitably wants us to watch

make the post

comment on 3 other people’s posts

start putting together paper (paper due tuesday 11:95 pm)

find sources

cite sources in MLA

make sure paper is formatted correctly this time because you thought it was the first time but it wasn’t

GENERAL SCHOOL

check your e-mail because your world mythology professor is worried about you and wants you to make a counseling appointment for next wednesday at 2 PM

ASK SOMEBODY ABOUT INTERNSHIPS because i gotta look for those

do this before my father finds out that i lost my scholarships due to my GPA falling too low because i keep failing classes because i can’t make myself write papers anymore 

OTHER STUFF:

AYWAS:

you’re gonna get another sketch list at some point this week, probably monday??

cat sketch that has taken you way, way too long to start

contact commissioner about sketch to apologize for radio silence and offer it to them for free or something because dear god (its not that hard to do, i could be doing it now instead of making this list but i’m so overwhelmed by all the other shit i have to do that i just haven’t started)

contact other commissioner about sketch that it’s been MONTHS since you said you’d do it

apologize and ask if they’re still interested, offer it to them for free since dear GOD (again, it doesn’t take me long to do sketches??? why haven’t i started these)

contact person about animation you owe them that you haven’t gotten past half of a rough pass of

i don’t know how to apologize to this person

i am very afraid

COMMISSIONS for moya

more sketches for their xaoc since it came back 22%

attic dragon colorations for the plbc they put in ages ago that’s just waiting for predicts

finish plush quolgarian

add more plushies

shade

send to them for approval and make any necessary fixes

color

finish squid scc coloration

finish blocking in base colors and then send it to them for feedback

finish coloring it

send them the crumb pet sketches you did ages ago

2 COLORATIONS FOR COMMISSIONER- 

witch cat

finish basing the colors and send to them for approval

finish 

moth dog (i think)

base the colors and send them for approval

finish basing and coloring the pet for the sketch basing contest before February ends

BASIC LIVING SHIT

eat regularly

eat healthier, find some dang vegetables you like and actually remember to eat them

bathe regularly

do the goddamn dishes regularly

wash that FUCKING SHRIMP PAN that’s been in the sink for 2 weeks

get work done before dnd tomorrow

gotta visit the cat boarding place to make sure my gfs cousins cat is doing okay there, since we discovered that she’s too loud and needy for us to illegally house in our apartment while he is away

these are the things i have to do

now that i have made this, i need to find a way to organize it so that i can see what things are most urgent...

[wicked-aria]

Halone’s Vengeance

Author: Eli (Elisa#5222)

Warnings: None(?)

Non-canon for obvious reasons but the prompt ran away with me

Prompt: Synthie™1-28 at 7:33 AM

@Gpose Addict @Role Player An NPC of your choice has killed someone very close to you. You have an option to take the proverbial high route and let karma take it's toll, or you ARE karma. - EXCLUDING THE HAURCHEFANT SITUATION - Who is the NPC [in game NPC] that you can either let go or take down yourself? Who is it that they killed [oc family, other player you're connected to, original character] (not Haurchefant)? Why did your character choose the 'good' route or the 'bad' route? Please use #rpprompt when posting!

When she heard, she was at a break in talks with the Ala Mhigan council. 

Elisa hadn’t needed to say much – which was just as well. She had been seated in a place of honor, and that was the only place she would be comfortable taking at the table for decision making and politics. She was many things – hero, warrior, healer, slayer – but politician she was not. Lyse had gracefully cut an argument at the head with a suggestion that everyone take a moment to refresh themselves, perhaps stroll through the Menagerie and take in the sights.

The garden was where the next chapter of her life finds her. An Ishgardian envoy, cheeks flushed and hair windswept, uniform a striking blue in the desert hues of golds, pinks and tans, entered through the main stair well, across the courtyard. He looked straight at her and- the thought occurs to her, ever briefly – run. No good news arrives on rapid wings, and less so with the unrest still running as an undercurrent through the streets of her adoptive home. She took a step back, another –

She could summon Laurel, take flight through the city, the lavender coloured chocobo well known enough to not cause any stir on the streets –

The heel of her foot snagged against an uneven brick and it brought her to a still. What had the past years of war done to her? Mistrusting any missive, fear coiled in her gut like a stalking coeurl like some child. Bloody hell, maybe it was Aymeric surrendering to a similar feeling of melancholy, reaching out while he knew she would be in one place for a while. She straightened up, raised a hand in a half salute. “Welcome to Ala Mhigo, friend,” she said aloud.

Her tentative optimism plummeted when the envoy wouldn’t meet her eyes. “Missive for your eyes only, Warrior-“ He stopped. Seemed to reconsider the circumstances, the mystery of which was burning through Elisa with a biting chill. “Lady Warsong.” He held out a thin envelope – one page of parchment, little more. The seal was red, a unicorn – Fortemps, then, not Borel.

She almost didn’t take it. Almost, the winds of fate were sated for some small hours, a lie of the meeting reconvening on her lips. Even if it was ready to start again, presence was appreciated, not necessary. Instead, she relieved the messenger of his burden, carefully - like it was a scared gaelicat, liable to bite. She pried up the seal with a fingernail, and-

The world swam around her, Edmont’s practiced scrawl that normally – normally she’d tease him, like a girl to her father that it was nigh illegible for how over the top the letters were made. Now,  they were short, printed, careful pains to make sure that the meaning would not be missed.

In the early morning of the 24th day of the second Astral moon, a man borne of the Brume, having vocally opposed the formation of the House of Lords since the day it was first voted on, approached Aymeric de Borel with a hunting knife in his possession. Ser Aymeric was unarmed, having left his home for the Crozier to check on mail. By the time help arrived, the man had fled and

There was space where Edmont had tried several times to continue on with the same diction his memoirs held, and failed, each start scrawled through with increasing emotion. Elisa could feel a knife between her ribs, static in its potency, aching with each strike-through on the parchment. Finally-

I’m so sorry, Elisa

She didn’t read further. Couldn’t have, really – her vision swam, noise rang in her ears.

The envoy must have noticed, because he stammered and reached out, catching her elbow. She didn’t notice the letter fluttering from her hand until it landed in the shallow pond beside them. Good, the thought drifted through her, vicious, let the water leech out the wretched ink – as though it might do any good for-

She found her feet and squeezed her eyes shut, trying to think. He wasn’t the first friend to die – nor the first lover. Ishgard would have its pound of flesh in one form or another. Over, and over again. “Leave me,” she murmured, jerking her arm from the Elezen’s grasp. Her eyes were fixed to the note as smoky black ribbons floated from paper to dance on the surface of the water.

The envoy hesitated, before he moved away. “The Fury’s grace with you, Miss.”

Halone. Halone’s grace had nothing- She lifted her head, watching his back. “Was the swiving bastard caught?” 

The envoy jumped near half a yalm in the air. “Aye, he was. Found with the knife, having a drink at the Forgotten Knight.”

Her blood simmered in her veins. The weight of the blood red jobstone seemed to sing in her pocket, never too far, always whispering in her ear. Now, it all but screamed. She didn’t need its pressing, not this time. Nor did she think twice to answer her patron Goddess’s call. “And will there be tribunal?”

“O-of course, miss! He denies any wrong doing, only seeking justice for the Brume, but- but he doesn’t speak for any of us,” vehemently, the youth shook his head hard. Near insulted.  “Ser Aymeric was always-“

“I know.” She rolled her shoulders. “Return to Ishgard, request on my behalf that the tribunal be stayed until I can make it to the Steps. I should like to see the Fury’s judgement for myself.”

The envoy saluted, steady and firm, before he hesitated again. “……Miss Warsong?” Still, the hesitance lingered. He was chewing his words, searching if they would suffive. “I’m sorry for your loss. Anyone that saw the two of you visiting knew-“

Her last visit had been a moon ago, already. She felt robbed of so much. “Thank you. Please, I’d like to be alone.”

The sun finished its trail across the sky, and set to the east. Lyse came and found her, and returned to the throne room alone. It was well into evening, the talks ended and all participants retired for the evening, before the first tears finally choked their way out. 

Was she not allowed one good thing-

Arriving in Ishgard three days later, for once, brought no joy to Elisa’s heart. Even stepping into Edmont’s arms for an embrace, somber and quiet as it was, greeted by the Fortemp household in dull grey clothing – it felt hollow. Empty. People had hung brilliant blue and gold banners from their windows in  respect for the knight whom the city had lost. The banners fluttered limply in the snow. 

People in the streets lingered, watching her walk at the side of Edmont, burrowed into her cloak to keep off the chill. 

They wanted to approach her. To offer condolences she wanted no part of. She wasn’t due them.  Artoirel suggested they head towards the Cathedral – away from the pending Tribunal, and towards, instead, the long line of mourners, flowers and offerings to the Fury piled high en memorium. She shook her head.

“I’ll attend the tribunal alone, if you would prefer the Cathedral. I don’t mind.” She fixed Artoirel with a look she knew he didn’t deserve. She would apologize, later. This was the family she chose, who stood at her back, and she would regret every slight to them, but for now- “I am going to see the man who did this,” she said.

She had spoke rarely since receiving the news a week ago. Now, her voice ached for it.

The Tribunal was downright frigid but Elisa did not shiver at the cold. Edmont started to lead the way to the space in the seating, pausing to glance back at her. She shook her head slightly and crossed her arms, remaining standing in the back, half-hid in the shadows. She could hardly stand the candlelight towards the stands. Edmont considered her and nodded, Artoirel squeezed her shoulder, the Fortemps household filtering in through the crowd to be seated.

She skimmed the crowd distantly, before her eyes were drawn to the head of the Tribunal as the head Inquisitor began the process. Her eyes drifted right, to where the accused was brought forth. 

The monster of a man – one who had single handedly wrought disaster into Elisa’s heart when three bloody wars had failed – was just a man. He stood straight backed and unapologetic on the stand, the chains around his wrists not seeming to bother him. 

For a moment – Elisa wanted to laugh. She had faced Eikons. She had faced ancient technology bent on subjugating the world. She had stared down death a million and one ways.  She had stood against every challenge that Hydaelyn had called her for, and come out victorious.

And yet – just like when she held Haurchefaunt’s hand amongst the Vault’s spires and begged him not to leave her alone – the villain who had won, who had drawn blood against her and stolen more than any victory would give – was just a man.

She didn’t listen to the proceedings. The words hummed in her head, weaving an intricate dance that she didn’t care to follow. Halone guided her step and she knew what was coming.

The man, unapologetic and defiant, raised his chin and declared himself proud of his actions. He claimed the Fury would stand beside his actions. He demanded a trial by combat – just as she had felt, in her bones, that he would. She closed her eyes for a moment, feeling the weight of her jobstone digging into her wrist where it was pressed into a bracelet.

She would light as many votives in Halone’s name as the Fury wanted, go to war as many times as Hydaelyn wanted, so long as she was given this. 

In the silence of the Tribunal, her voice rang out like thunder,as she stepped down through the aisle, each step heavy and pronounced in her armor. “I would like to meet this man’s bid for trial by combat, if the court will allow me to represent their charges as their champion.”

Spectators turned to look up at her - few would have the gall to name themselves champion so brazenly.

A shock of whispers ran through the crowd. She was recognized instantly.

“The Tribunal accepts the petition of champion. Will the champion please state her name for the record.” 

“Elisa Warsong, sir.”

And she watched, in some distant, faint satisfaction, as the murderer’s skin went ashen.

[ajp3mbgk-blog]

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