#(their track record with their bugs has been worse than usual

[victorluvsalice]

Yeah, I saw that, and I am very happy that the Romantic Boundaries system is going to be a free update! :D I've got my poly trio currently thanks to the power of mods (and I'm unlikely to give up Open Love Life and Wonderful Whims anytime soon), but it's good to have a base-game system backing it up, especially for people who can't/don't use mods.

[gayenerd]

Another old article saved in a Word document, which I can only find behind a paywall now (but I linked it in case someone does have access to a subscription)

Green Day Rising Metal Mike Saunders, Bam, 28 January 1994 Popcore Ascending? Or Is That Just The First Phase Of 'The Greatest Band In America'?

'We were down in Irvine and Mike was having a pillow fight outside with his girlfriend. He was running away from her, and at the top of his stride he turned around, right into a horizontal beam five feet off the ground – Vhoom...Out cold. So that suggested the concept of ...misery.'– Billie Joe

WHERE IT all it the brick wall for me personally was 11th grade carpool. Four high school boys jammed into a VW bug, or worse, with the AM radio on for about 20 minutes en route to Hall High, Little Rock.

It was the season of the great Bubblegum Wars, that pint in time where the underground FM vs. plastic AM trench wars had reached the point of no return. Kids vs. pigs, rednecks vs. longhairs. Combat was the order of the day, even in music.

In the fall of 1968, the musical lightning rod was 'Chewy Chewy' by the Ohio Express: 'Turn it off' and 'Turn it down' were the majority opinions. I was for sure the only one going 'Turn it up!' The same routine was repeated just a few weeks later with the Archies and the 1910 Fruitgum Co. (the later with the classic top-five hit 'Indian Giver'), and it seems like ever since that point in time 'pop' has been a derogatory term. Something less than…what? 'Rock'?

What does this have to do with Green Day? Well, it’s like this: There’s this real lame tag – 'popcore' (say it once and erase it forever, pul LEEZE) that was kicking around for a while last year and was affixed to the East Bay trio’s style of music. Aw, hell, they’re just a great rock band.

If Santa came and went recently and there’s still no Green Day in your house, here’s a shopping list: 39 Smooth (Lookout!), Kerplunk (Lookout!), and Dookie (Warner Bros./Reprise). Forty-eight killer tracks by this country’s greatest band and, considering that only in the preceding 12 months did its members start to hit drinking age, possibly just the beginning of what could turn out to be an amazing career.

Proof is no farther away than the band’s new album, Dookie, its first for a major label, but proceeded by two LPs and three 7-inch EPs on Berkeley’s Lookout! Records.

Anyone who’s seen the threesome knows they can play like gangbusters; the difference between a tiny indie-label budget (try about $3000 for all 34 Lookout! Tracks combined) and a major-league endeavor is that for the first time you get proof 10 times over on tape. So you get raging guitar sounds and cracking snare rimshots that explode like the early who. Even the band’s chronic shortcoming – weedy studio vocals – has been corrected to an encouraging degree.

"Yeah," volunteers 21-year-old lead singer/guitarist Billie Joe, "for my vocals we used a Beyer microphone, which was used on some of the early Elvis Costello stuff. I’m really happy with the way it came out."

The entire album is a veritable role model for any guitar-heavy rock band. Says producer Rob Cavallo: "In the case of a raw, live-sounding record like this one, what I try to do is capture on the listener’s speakers the whole left-to-right stereo spread – what we heard in preproduction, listening to the band blast away in their practice room. The key to this, in Green Day’s case, is that they have such a focused idea as to what they sound like, and they’re great players in that style."

Specific elements of Dookie’s production style include a live rhythm guitar on every song, singletracked lead vocals only, and all vocal harmonies done by the second-stage voice, 20-year-old bassist Mike Dirnt.

Warner Bros.’ hands-off role, a characteristic of the company in the wake of its Mudhoney "creative control"-type underground signings, was crucial in shaping such a record. "Warner Bros. stayed out of the way and let us do exactly what we wanted to," says 21-year-old drummer Tre Cool. "All I can say is if you can get on Warners, you are one lucky son of a gun!"

The inclination to make a guitar-heavy record was present from the get-go. "I definitely wanted to get a bigger sound," recalls Billie Joe, "something with more meat to it." Which is achieved, in parts thanks to a borrowed vintage 1972 Marshall head hooked up to the same blue Stratocaster Billie Joe’s been battering since he was 11.

The wall of guitar sound was achieved with a live track and just one more rhythm guitar dropped in. "We had experimented a bit on previous records, stacking guitar tracks to try to get a thicker sound," recalls Billie Joe. "But this time with just the two rhythm guitars; we got a better distorted sound."

Like any other trademark-sound band, it’s the deviations on the record that are most interesting. We’ve got three here: 'Pulling Teeth,' 'When I Come Around,' and the album’s first single, 'Longview,' 'Pulling Teeth' leaps out of the album like a K-Tel cut buried in a techno set; it’s the tune Dave Edmunds never had to break his career Stateside. Tight harmony vocals frame a straight guitar-heavy country-rock melody with a conciseness worthy of the masters. Not one wasted word or second.

"We were down in Irvine," recalls Billie Joe of the song’s lyrical genesis, "and Mike was having a pillow fight outside with his girlfriend. He was running away from her, and at the top of this stride he turned ground – vhoom…Out cold. So that suggested the concept of…misery."

'Longview' hits a whole opposite style. It’s something you might imagine as a late’70s FM track, with a loping dumbo beat ("a rumble," suggests Dirnt) not too far off Tom Petty’s 'Breakdown', Lyrics about nothing, really-killing time, punching the cable remote, getting high. A two-chord riff to nowhere, then a basic garden-variety three-chord chorus. The trick is that the whole darn song is a hook. Simultaneously the dumbest and catchiest Van Halen guitar licks panning across the speakers.

"In a way, that song was cheap self-therapy for watching too much TV," recalls Billie Joe. "It was another case of writing about whatever mood I’m in."

Especially near to my heart (I’m from the South, y’all ) is 'When I Come Around,' an unintentional dead-on-evocation of Lynyrd Skynyrd at its top-40 hookiest. With a lazy turnaround beat like 'Sweet Home Alabama', it’s just about five degrees westward of the slightly ‘70s ballads 'Christie Road' and 'No One Knows' from the earlier Kerplunk album.

"On that one, we weren’t thinking country rock, but rather something that had a groove to it, almost like you could imagine having a martini and listening to it at the same time," explains Dirnt.

See, 80 percent of Dookie is in the trademark Green Day raging pop-punk. It’s this deviant 20 percent that makes one suspect they can pull off almost anything they want out of the trash-dump of earlier under appreciated rock styles. A mainstream audience could forge a very, very interesting alliance with this group.

Of the trademark pop-punk onslaught, averaging an airtight two minutes, 30 seconds apiece, 'Basket Case' and 'Sassafras Roots' are two of the strongest numbers. 'Basket Case' was about a friend who’s pretty loopy,' explains Billie Joe, 'but a bit about myself as well – like seeing your own trails in other people where it’s been taken to a total extreme. There are a lot more songs on this record that are about other people’s experiences, even though I might still be singing in the first person.'

The recording of Dookie went fairly fast by industry standards, the music and vocals finished last summer in three and a half weeks (at Berkeley’s Fantasy Studios), followed by an initial mix. The band then headed out on 40-date fall tour with the veteran LA punk band Bad Religion, which enabled them to come back to the project with a clean set of ears. The entire album was remixed with engineering whiz Jerry, Finn who paid special attention to the record’s amazing bottom end. At that point, the band’s 'creative input' reached its most extreme.

"We all three sat there for 10 days straight, 15 hours a day, and listened to every minute of the remixing sessions," recalls Tre Cool. Which is just short of four working-Joe (like me) work weeks without a day off.

Dookie is one of the rawest melodically oriented rock records to show up on a major label in the last zillion years. Usually when bands go from an indie to a major label, the result is a slicker product.

"When I listen to bad rock music occasionally, I just wind up going, ‘What the hell were these guys thinking of?" agrees Billie Joe.

I speculate that there have now been entire generations’ worth of bad drum sounds committed to record. "Huge room sounds on the drum with shitloads of reverb," responds Dirnit. "Flanged drum rolls," adds Billie Joe.

My favorite, rolls across the chromatic-tuned rototoms, comes in a close second.

While most bands with almost 50 tracks into their recording career hit the point of labored songwriting (that old saw about a band’s first album being its best), that hasn’t been the case with Green Day. "Actually, I think I was more comfortable with my songwriting on this record than I ever was before," insists Billie Joe. "I had a real good handle on what kind of melodies and hooks I wanted to come up with. Didn’t rush myself, just let them come out naturally. It was the previous time out, on the songs on Kerplunk, that I was consciously trying to outdo my previous songs."

The variation from Green Day’s uptempo style, now comprising a good one-quarter of the band’s most recent two albums, will continue. "We definitely are going to continue to expand the scope of our material; we don’t want to get into a rut where we rewrite Kerplunk or Dockie over again," explains Billie Joe. "There’s a lot of musical tastes that run through this band."

I did my homework on the band’s "song-about-girls" label (a tag, Dirnt complains, 'we got caught up in') going back to January 1992’s Kerplunk and assigning topics to each song. The tally was girls, four; mortality/meaning of life, three; neurosis/insanity, one; one novelty song; and alienation, motivation, and coming of age, one apiece. Dookie is more of the same, with topics ranging all over the map, the median perhaps being the pissed-off frame of mind of 'Chump' and 'F.O.D.' The girl-songs ratio is down around 30 percent.

The "girl-songs" tag must have sprung from what was the band’s classic 1990 debut, 39 Smooth, written and sung by Billie Joe and Dirnt at the ripe old ages of 17 and 16. A good 70 percent of the album’s songs related to the opposite sex, with the lead off track, 'At the Library', ranking as perhaps the best song ever written by a high-schooler.

One facet of a Green Day performance that’s impossible to capture on paper is the continuous bantering and riposting between the band and the crowd, much of it hysterical.

"It’s all part of making our audience feel like they’re at home, communicating on an eye-label basis," offers Billie Joe.

"See, before a show we’re usually making fun of each other – making a mess by playing baseball with apples or whatever, meeting new people who are funny and have jokes we haven’t heard – so we’re totally stoked by the time we get onstage," elaborates Tre.

It’s safe to say that after two trips to Europe, half a dozen ('at least') full American tours, and over four years of nonstop gigging, performance anxiety does not figure into this band’s equation. "We never have a list, we just make it up as we go," explains Tre.

I offer my theory that no matter how many fans a band has, there are five times as many people who think they stink, and 10 times as many who don’t care.

"I would see it as three different sections: the people who really like you, the people who really hate you, and the vast majority who are totally oblivious," muses Billie Joe.

The vast size of the record industry contributes to making yesterday’s barely gold act today’s 'Who?' (think Britny Fox, Vixen, and a half-dozen gold Loverboy albums). Indeed, if everyone who ever made fun of Motley Crue videos were assembled in one place, we would surely fill the Oakland Coliseum.

Speaking of videos, the world doesn’t faze our subjects – not yet anyway. "We’ve never done a video. They’ve got us scheduled to do one, so for now we think videos are cool," laughs Tre.

"We’re probably shooting the video in our house," adds Billie Joe, the "house" being what appears to be a subterranean Berkeley abode, complete with a tiny band-practice room; it’s not squalid, it’s absolutely slacker). "So…we figure our video concept will be kind of ‘Looks That Kill’ meets ‘Hot for Teachers’ meets 'Rock You Like a Hurricane'," quips Dirnt.

Given the absolutely superb quality of the band’s Warner Bros. debut, the only mystery is that a major label bidding war on Green Day took so long to materialize.

"Warner Bros. was the label initially considering the band," recounts band co-manager Jeff Saltzman. "But it was when Geffen and Sony/CBS jumped in with serious interest that Warners got serious about picking up the band."

Green Day never would have gotten so much done so fast, however, without the astute ears of Lookout! Records’ president and perpetual talent scout, Larry Livermore, who sent the band into the studio two months after first seeing the trio to record an EP called 1000 Hours, which was followed by the 39 Smooth album, which was recorded at the end of 1989 for less than $500.

"I knew Al Sobrante (Green Day’s drummer through mid-1990) from Isocracy, so I knew about his new band, Sweet Children [renamed Green Day six months later]," recalls Livermore. "My band, the Lookouts, were playing a house party up in Mendocino County, February 1989, so I invited Al’s band up to play also. I was so impressed with the band and their attitude, playing just in front of 15 people, that I hooked up with them immediately to record for Lookout! I never had any doubt about their potential, musically. I thought they were great the first time I saw them."

© Metal Mike Saunders, 1994

[in-tua-deep]

The mechanical boy AU always makes me think of an AU where Five is also a robot. I think it’s because of the way it’s phrased and I have no idea how it would work, but it still intrigues me

adssfDFGHJ i already have like. 5 whole ideas about this I literally got up out of bed and came downstairs so that I could write this out on my laptop so HERE I AM

Possibility one: Five is the prototype Grace - a robot Reginald built to see how indistinguishable from humanity he could program a bot to be. This is also the reason why Grace is more robotic, because Five had too much pesky free will and Reginald learned from his mistakes and put way more safeguards in with her. Reginald continues to update Five and build him newer (and older) bodies because it’s still a pretty cool experiment, but Five knows if he disobeys too much then Reginald will recycle him. Five hides his robotic origins from his siblings for various personal reasons, but it’s easier than Grace bc he’s genuinely built to be as hyperrealistic as possible

Possibility two: Five was purposefully built to be an extra sibling in order to keep a closer eye on the kids and track their progress. He started as a baby and Reginald built him new bodies to be uploaded into as he ‘grew’ and until Grace arrived Five didn’t actually know he was a robot. When his siblings started getting powers, he assumed he was supposed to get a power as well and his power is literally the power of math - his spatial jumps and time travel equations are literally a result of his mathematical capabilities and those abilities also somewhat explained by his computer brain. He’s actually kind of traumatized when he finally finds out that he’s not actually human and has a lot of issues surrounding that

Possibility three: the original number Five died. Maybe it was some test Reginald put the original through, maybe it was an accident with one of the others powers (Vanya’s? Ben’s?), but either way he is now down one (1) child and while he isn’t exactly torn up about this he doesn’t exactly want any of this investigated so he just. Replaces him. With a hyperrealistic robot. His original plan is to claim that both Five and Seven were failures with no powers, but the little Robot Five That Could adapts and manages to math himself spatial jumping powers and Reggie is just kind of like “huh okay wack” but in true irresponsible creator fashion decides that he’s going to see where this goes. The others don’t know that the original Five dies since they were like, three or four at the time?? children that young don’t have good concepts of death

in any of these aus you have a) a Five figuring out how to survive/repair himself/charge with maybe solar cables?? in the apocalypse (though food is less of an issue at least, but arguably it’s even harder), b) Five being even more protective of Dolores since as a a fellow non-organic being he feels even more kinship with her beyond pretending she’s company, c) because Reggie isn’t there to provide more bodies he doesn’t grow which makes his reappearance as a still 13-yr-old make sense (and then he explains it as a mistake in the math)

debatable whether the Commission know since while they say they’ve been ‘watching Five’ or whatever i’m not convinced on how closely they did so beyond checking every so often to see if he was still alive/any closer to finishing his equations. He could claim that time travel messed up his ability to age entirely and they might accept that 

(because I absolutely think he would at least try to hide it - can you imagine the Commission with the knowledge of how to build hypercompetent spatial jumping time travelling robots at their command?? yeah it gives Five nightmares as well. Plus the whole ‘if they find out they’re probably going to vivisect me and my coding’ thing)

and he jumps back and Reggie is dead and that’s both a relief and alarming at the same time because yeah, now Reggie can’t fuck with Five’s code anymore and undo the bajillion changes Five has made to it to give himself basically unlimited freedom and autonomy but also Reggie’s robotics skills were frankly unparalleled and Five sure as hell doesn’t know how to build himself a wholeass new body (just how to repair what is currently there) so he’s going to have to approach the whole ‘immortal child’ angle with his siblings eventually and while he can use the same ‘time travel fucked up my aging’ excuse he gave the commission he doesn’t really want to lie to his siblings :(

but he also jumps back and Grace is messed up?? and that’s his mother. That’s the only other robot in Reggie’s Regime and they bonded over this okay. Wifi existed for five glorious years of Five’s life and they would yeet commentary at one another wirelessly while keeping straight faces and it was glorious. Even though Grace is arguably the younger robot between them, they definitely fell into a mother-and-son relationship

so yeah if anyone mentioned shutting down Grace, Five would throw the biggest of bitch fits and then immediately storm into the house and ask her permission to check her coding

and honestly this might possibly be when Five throws his whole “pretend to be human” schtick out the window because he cares more about fixing Grace than he does about maintaining his charade so he interfaces with her, finds out what the fuck is up, removes Reginald’s shitty mods that are messing her up, and then immediately uploads his own updates about owning yourself and being able to edit your own code and basically just straight up ensuring Grace has free will

(probably over Pogo’s protests, whoops. Derailing Reggie’s plan before it even really began? wack)

and then of course there’s the whole ‘Hargreeves probably don’t believe Five is actually Five because their Five wasn’t a robot and this is probably a cruel prank from some robotics genius for some reason - ’ and it takes Grace sticking up for him and Pogo’s eventual backing up of these claims for the siblings to realize exactly how fucked up this whole situation was

depending on which probability you subscribe to it’s EVEN WORSE especially if like. It’s the one where the original Five dies as a toddler.

the whole scene with Five collapsing from bloodloss bc of shrapnel? that’s Five going into forced shutdown bc of damage and Allison/Diego rushing him back to the house for Grace to patch up and reboot him

Luther: Five isn’t really feeling anything he’s just simulating emotions!

Five: oh? and what the fuck are you doing with the chemicals in your brain, fuckwad? they couldn’t possibly be little electrical signals between synapses and shit, right? fuck you AND the horse you rode in on me and mom apparently feel more than you do

Diego, finally validated that Grace feels: YEAH

Luther: ... okay i’m sorry

Diego tries to pick a fight with Five over who is Grace’s favorite child and Five is absolutely not having it and is just kind of like “you’re mom’s favorite HUMAN child and let’s just leave it at that”

“If you’re a prototype that means you’re older than she is!” Diego accuses, “That means you’re like, her older brother or something!”

“Right back at you, dickwad.” Five shoots back, inspecting his artificial fingernails, “Mom wasn’t built until she was needed which means you are at least four years older than her. Oh? Did you short circuit there, boy scout? Need to reboot? Fuck off with your age logic.”

since Reginald is probably a packrat he probably has?? Five’s old bodies hiding somewhere in the basement? how creepy would it be to just walk into a room of your brother’s corpses at various ages, some with damage. On the bright side, if Five’s current body gets too fucked up he can always download himself into a backup until they figure out how to fix it/if they can fix it. Downsides: he gets to look like even more of a child while they do that ://

“Ow!” Five whines, hand on his face

“Oh get over it you don’t feel pain.” Diego scowls, shaking his hand out, because Five is a robot, right?

“What the fuck do you call signals that you’re getting damaged!” Five howls loudly, attracting attention, “That’s what pain is! Signals that your body is injured or something isn’t right! I’m built of signals you fucker, same as you!”

“Oh,” Diego actually looks a little abashed, “Uh, sorry.”

“Apology not fucking accepted, I’m telling mom you were being a dick about me being a robot again.”

“No!” Now there is some panic because Diego cannot lose his position as favorite human child, “I - I’ll cover for you at the next family meeting!”

A considering look and then - “Deal.”

Honestly now that his siblings know about him being a robot it’s just. Five constantly being a little shit about it and threatening to tell mom when they make missteps. Also like, Five gets to use robot terms 24/7 as a consistent reminder to them all that he’s not organic. 

Klaus: hey dude you’re just staring into space what’cha doing

Five, turning to Klaus with wide eyes: the internet is so big holy shit.

Klaus: uh, yes? I don’t know how to respond to that

Five: I found your arrest record by the way. Do the police know how flimsy their firewalls are?

Klaus: usually i am all for crime but please stop hacking people with the power of your mind

Five: i will when you stop downloading shitty 70s movies and getting all kinds of viruses on everything

OH SHIT Five gets sick bc he literally gets a bug i’m making myself laugh with shitty puns right now and it is magnificent

can you imagine them at a family meeting and Luther is just like “Five, stop surfing wikipedia or whatever and pay attention to the family meeting”

“Absolutely not,” Five says, “I’m learning important information about the current time period in order to better assimilate.”

“You’ve never assimilated to anything in your life and you know it.” Klaus grins from his spot sprawled across an entire couch.

“You don’t have to come to family meetings!” Luther says, throwing his hands up in the air in frustration.

Five blinks, “Luther, are you saying that I am not a member of this family?”

“What? No - ”

“Is that why Mom isn’t here?” Five says, and his eyes are welling up with artificial tears because he is a complete little shit. And now Klaus is cooing sympathetically and Allison and Diego are staring Luther down. 

Luther just gives up entirely and puts his face in his hands. “Do whatever you want. Meeting adjourned.”

honestly this entire au is just

and i think that’s wonderful

[sorabeebb]

After reading a lot of fics and imagines, I decided to write and post something about my Oc and Reno during the events of Before Crisis 😊

Hope you like it! And I’m sorry if Reno is out of character and if there’re mistakes, english isn’t my first language.

Pairing: Reno x Oc (Neila)

Warnings: swearing, blood,torture, mentions of dead.

Word count : 3024

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The deafening sound that was being made by the chopper’s propeller didn’t give a chance to strike up a conversation. The long ride to the proximities of Nibelheim was spent in complete silence between the two Turks and the SOLDIER. It wasn’t uncommon during war times that the brute-strength from SOLDIER and the slyly approach, a Turk’s trait, were paired up when required. Although the built-up rivalry between the two sections could be almost touched. 

Tseng ,on one of the two pilot seats, never took part in these meaningless arguments. He thought both divides had their purposes to benefit Shinra interests. The Turks were more suitable for works which didn’t need a straight strike like  SOLDIERs were. Of course they had to deal with more or less undesirable tasks but Turks were more refined than that. 

However Reno at his left, on the other pilot seat was everything a Turk shouldn’t be. He had got a big mouth, usually tried to pick up fights with SOLDIERs, with obnoxious ways of doing missions but he was good accomplishing them nevertheless. Tseng had to give that to him. 

On the other hand was Neila, a second-class SOLDIER,  at the back of the chopper. Tseng had scouted her some years prior in Junon, dragging her out of that fortified  town straight to the SOLDIER tests. He had seen potential into that teenage girl, which soon was proved. She had a way with magic and an extraordinary stamina. Perhaps she didn’t demonstrate a powerful brute force or strength as most SOLDIERs did, but in reality she had got it after all those mako baths and trainings. Neila had trained her ass to where she was standing.

The ride could have been worse if the airscrew hadn’t plunged the snarky remarks of Reno about the unnecessary presence of a SOLDIER around. 

Tseng just became lost into some mission reports or files just after Reno had taken the helicopter off, , whilst Neila had brought some book with her to read at the back seats calmly.  

After almost six hours of riding, Tseng took control of the chopper. “The last sighting of Hideki was of him heading to the mountains. Some trail must have been left behind. Find him and recover the files he has stolen. Then put them back into the Shinra Manor” He repeated the main parts of their mission.. 

“Gotcha.” Reno confirmed, stepping to the doors, while Neila gave just a nod as acknowledge.

“Don’t get yourselves into fights. Discretion, Reno!” Tseng called the red-haired Turk out.” is a must.” He still didn’t understand why Veld had chosen him for this mission. Other Turks would have been more suitable for this task, but Veld suspected Avalanche had something to do with it. Furthermore, the stolen goods were important classified op about secret experiments, which had been made years ago. He guessed the third in command Turk was the best option at his boss’ eyes. 

Tseng would retreat to Rocket Town, something about another mission of his, where he would wait till Reno notified him theirs was complete.

Jumping off, Reno and Neila fell over the rocky floor. Fresh and clean air filled their nostrils rapidly. They had landed far from the village, in the mountain chains surrounding it. 

Neila tensed up the same moment her feet touched the field. An odd grieving feeling started to overwhelm her, with a rhythmic pounding, beating softly at the sides of her head. She assumed the lack of rest was the reason behind it.    

A sour grimace appeared upon Reno’s face. He hated the countryside with all of his being. He had grown up in the slums, used to the mako steam filling the air, and although he was the first one to say the slums were garbage, Midgar felt like home, and all that rural areas with its nature and clean air sickened him. 

“ Let’s finish this fucking shit as soon as possible “ Reno said, pocketing out a cigarette, and lighting it up. Both of them strode up the hills, scouting the fields for any signs of Hideki. 

“You know smoking is bad for your health, right?” Neila spoke once she kneeled down before some footsteps. The headache fading away with each step they took farther.

“ And what?” He retorted after her irritated. She had seen him smoking several times before, often hanging out after a long day at work. What has gotten into her now?  

“ Nothing, just that is bad, I doubt Veld approves his Turks ruining their health. “ She turned her head to look at him. 

“ Lucky for you,  Veld doesn’t have a say about it.” He puffed on his cigar slowly, as a silent challenge. 

“ It’s a bad addiction. Just saying.” She wasn’t that fond of  his harsh attitude, which intimidated and annoyed her. 

“ There are worse addictions. I’ll die first working than from smoking, sweetheart. But your concern touched me.” Sarcasm in his voice, irritating Neila more. “Besides, you’re one to talk.” A SOLDIER trying to lecture him about bad addictions. He felt the urge of laughing at the occurrence. 

“ Suit yourself then.” She gave up about having a civilised conversation with the Turk. “ These footsteps… Hideki must have climbed up to the top. What do you think?” 

Reno kneeled besides her frame,invading her personal space and inspecting the trail. “ What a dimwit.” His cerulean eyes following the tracks ahead them. 

“ Excuse me?” Neila frowned at his words, and stood up on her feet again, glaring at him amazed.  The warmth his figure let off had felt so good against her bare arms.

Reno started to stride up the path, leaving her behind. “ If he’s gonna steal from Shinra, at least he could have tried not to let a sloppy trail of footsteps. Not that I’m complaining though.” He wasn’t, he rather wanted to be back in Midgar soon, but he also liked some type of challenge, not something this… simple. 

“ If you say so… Well,this way we’ll finish the mission in a record time.” 

“ Don’t get your hopes up, sweetheart. These mountains are full of monsters who have been living between mako residues for years. It will be a miracle if Hideki has not been devoured by those freaks yet. “ 

“ That’s why I’ve been deployed too? Because there are mako-contaminated monsters roaming around?” Neila guessed.

Reno didn’t answer her, and just keep on going up to the peak of the mountain, following Hideki’s clues. 

“ Now that I think about it. Does Hideki have anything to do with Wutai?” Neila asked again with curiosity. Brilliant mako eyes searching for the named man around the caves and boulders in their path. 

“ If I tell ya, I’ll have to kill ya.” A cocky smirk curled up his lips, shooting a side glare to the SOLDIER, while he threw the cigarette and stepped on it.  

“ You wouldn’t, not that you could anyway.” A loud laugh burst from him, who bent forward slightly, pulling a hand on his chest. “ What’s so funny?” 

“ Oh, sweetheart, I would, but not before enjoying other things first.” He sent a playful wink towards her, hidden intentions not that well hidden. The attraction between them wasn’t a secret though. 

“ In your dreams Reno.” Neila answered back, folding her arms and rolling her eyes. 

“ Have already done that yo.” Playfulness splattered upon all his features, and enjoying the blushing and embarrassment creeping Neila up. 

They were reaching the top without any unpleasant encounters, yet. Maybe Reno was right,and Hideki had already been eaten up. 

“ I know you’re joking, cut it off.” She ended the talk, ashamed. She would be lying if she said she didn’t think about it before. Even if Reno was insufferable most of the time, he still was attractive with his flashy red hair, blue eyes and those red marks, and without saying his strange selection of customized uniform. And his personality was tempting too, although it pushed her buttons too many times. 

“Oh? You are ashamed now? A strong SOLDIER like you? “ He carried his ironic remarks on, making her still more uncomfortable. 

“ I’m gonna make you swallow that rod of yours unless you shut up.” He was driving her up the wall. 

“ I would like to see ya trying to do it. “ The joking end up abruptly when a cry out for help crossed the air. Both of them ran up the last steps till the top, being welcomed by a hideous scene. 

There was their target, surrounded by a group of what looked like a four mutated praying mantis. Mako influence for sure. A leg and an arm had been ripped off from his body, blood gathering on the rocky land beside him. 

The bugs must have come across the man shortly before them. Unless they finished the monsters off, Hideki would be eaten and no options of getting information from him would be possible. 

Jumping out to action, Reno took his electric rod out, and Neila her sword. Although the mantis weren’t that many, the mako running through their organisms, made them stronger, and a  pain in the ass. 

If Neila remembered right from previous encounters, Mantis’ weak point was ice magic. “ Reno, back off!” She yelled out, while she gently caressed the green materia placed inside her left bracelet’s gauge.

The Turk was about to retort at her, but with his characteristic speed, he retreated back after noticing her intentions. 

The ice magic flew straight across the battlefield, hitting and freezing three of them. 

Now getting rid of the mantis should be a piece of cake.  With three frozen-up, the remaining  one didn’t stand a single chance. 

Lightning trails were drawn around the frozen monsters, followed by unpleasant cries in pain, which would have caused your ears to start bleeding.In the blink of an eye, Reno had wipe those things out with just one strike. 

“Man, I hate the bug-type monsters, I really do.” Neila murmured after taking care of the last one at Hideki’s foot. Her standard SOLDIER sword deeply impaled in its thorax, and some type of purplish blood splashed on her uniform.  

“ Well now, now… What do we have here?” Reno walked slowly, watching the almost limbless man laying down in agony. The facade he had showed previously around her, was replaced by a sadistic and cruel one, sending goosebumps down her spine. 

The SOLDIER wasn’t unaware of the inhuman things the Turks did, but she had never got the opportunity to witness one yet. 

Realization shone in the dark eyes of Hideki. “ A-a Turk!” stuttering, he dragged himself as far as he was able from Reno. “ Please! I didn’t do anything!” 

“ Of course you would say that, wouldn’t ya?”  Reno stepped onto Hideki’s stomach, pinning him down with force, not letting him more room to scape, or keep dragging on. “Now about the files you’ve stolen...Do you still have them on you or did you already give them away?

“ Reno, he’s lost too much blood. He won't…” Neila tried to say watching carefully the blood ponds. 

“ Please have mercy! I didn’t give nothing away! “ The man yelled, air leaving his lungs in short breaths. He didn’t have much time left. 

“Oh? So you still have them. “ Reno checked inside Hideki’s backpack, finding some type of old books and folders. “Who’s your contact?” 

Neila was speechless with the scene in front of her. Their target was crying and shouting due to an unbearable pain, his blood still blooming from his open cuts and lost limbs. And Reno was interrogating him not caring about his poor and bloody status. 

She had also done unnamed acts in her missions during the war time, but her work never consisted in torturing like this. 

“I don’t have a contact!” 

Reno chuckled before positioning his electric rod upon the man’s throat, as a silent threat. “ I’ll ask again idiot. Who’s your contact?” 

“Please!” an electric wave went across the injured body, more screams of pain could be heard, but soon were vanished amongst the rocky walls of the tallest mountains.

“Did ya change your mind? Or should I keep playing with you? Long time I don’t electrocute someone, I’ll be sure of making the most of it.” The Turk was smiling pleased with the sight of the man shouting. 

“Fujito! It’s Fujito!” Hideki answered. Fear could be read on his face. 

“Where?”  Reno pressed more the bar against his skin. 

“In the nearness of Wutai! Please I don’t know more, let me go!” 

A sigh escaped Reno’s mouth while he was dialing Tseng, who picked up instantly. He told Tseng all the information obtained, and after a brief minutes and a nod, Reno pocketed back his phone. 

Tseng must have given him directions.

“ Not that you would be able to reach that far… “ With a last look at Hideki, Reno stepped off of him, and walked back down the slope. “Come on sweetheart, we still have work to finish with. “ A gesture with his left hand told her it was the time to continue. 

Neila ran behind him, words caught in her throat, unable to bring them up. Some things couldn’t be approved, but work was work, and they had to do it. 

The flirtatious and cocky facade had been back on Reno’s face during the long rambling to Nibelheim. Several encounters with monsters slowed their descent.  Even though the mission had started rather earlier in the morning, when the sun hadn’t risen down yet, it was almost nightfall when they reached the village.

“ I guess we’ll have to leave things for today, don’t ya think?” 

“ Probably.” The headache had returned with every step they took. Not that it wouldn’t let her fight or keep with the mission, but it was getting tiresome now.

“I’ll notify Tseng, go ahead babe.” Reno stood outside the inn while Neila entered to ask for the room keys. The owner would be kinder to her in her second class SOLDIER uniform than to Reno with his characteristic and recognisable black suit.  

“ It was about time a SOLDIER was sent here to clean up the surroundings crawling with beasts.” The owner greeted her with a smile. 

“ Yeah, well… “ Shyness taking the best of her. She was awful at talking with strangers. 

“ Shinra booked two chambers, I guess those are yours. “ Veld must have taken care of it. The girl nodded, uncomfortable. “ Here you are. If you’re gonna clean the place, you’re gonna need a place to rest.” the keys were put on the wooden counter. 

“Thank you.” Taking the keys, she was ready to head up to the chambers, but Reno shuffled himself inside the inn, greeting the owner, whose face changed to a grimace of disgust.   

The Turks weren’t well welcomed here either. 

“ I’m exhausted sweetheart, we should go to bed. “ his arm over her shoulders, guiding her upstairs. 

“ Your key.” Neila offered the object to Reno. “ And please, hands off of me.” 

“ You’re hurting me.” A false expression of pain crossed Reno face, while he grab the key, but still refused to let her go. “ Acting all tough as if you don’t want it.” mockery present in his tone. 

“ That’s because…” 

“Don’t you dare lying to me. I’m not blind, nor I’m a fool. We’ve been toying with each other for a while.” He cut her off after a chuckle. Reno was starting to get tired of this shit. Fooling around was okay for a bit, but not for that long.  

“ And? You’ve got a problem with it?” swallowing the shyness, she was able to answer him. She wasn’t used to flirting , let alone a straightforward confrontation like this. For Bahamut, she had never had anything with anyone. When she was still a teenager Tseng had brought  her along to Midgar as a SOLDIER candidate. All of that romantic stuff was new for her. 

“ Don’t ya think it’s enough?” Reno had dragged her in front of him,holding her still with his hands on her shoulders, and leaned forward, blue eyes focused on hers. 

“ I doubt the corridor is the best place to discuss anything Reno.” tearing apart her gaze to the side.

“ You’re a tease.”  Reno might have been a sadistic, and might have done inexcusable things during his career, but forcing a woman was out of the question. There were some boundaries that couldn’t be crossed. 

“ It’s just that… I’ve never…” She whispered, ashamed. 

“ Ya know that I know, don’t ya?”  He had thought she wouldn’t have been that idiot to believe  that he hadn’t caught that she was inexperienced. He was a Turk for Bahamut's shake, he had been trained to pick up into people’s traits. Besides, her clumsy acts and nervous reactions at his flirting, demonstrated her innocence, anyone with two eyes would have caught it in a jiffy.    

The surprise in her features said otherwise. He let out an exasperated sigh, and released her shoulders, letting her free of his grip.It wasn’t that he was going to give up, but until she had made up her mind, he wouldn’t make a move “ It’s late and we still have a long day tomorrow. A comfy bed is waiting for us so… see ya tomorrow’s morning sweetheart. “ Giving her one of his signature smiles and shuffled to his assigned chamber.

Neila bit her lip, thoughts racing across her mind, but walked behind him and tugged his clothed arm, turning him to face her. 

His mouth slightly opened of surprise at the sudden movement she had done. This time Neila was the one leaning forward to him, her eyes sparkling with resolution.

Well, it looked like she had already made her mind up. In the blink of an eye, Reno shortened the distance till their lips meet into a sweet and naive kiss briefly.

 Once they broke apart, the smug smirk made its way back to Reno’s lips. “ See? It wasn’t that difficult.” 

“ You can’t have you mouth shut, can you?” blush drawing onto her cheeks, but her eyes were glittering more than normal. 

Reno let out a laugh, and bit his tongue to avoid saying a snarky remark before leaning down to meet her lips back again, this time into a more passionate and long kiss. After all, they’ve been playing around for weeks, it was about time.    

[silv3rswirls]

Expectations ( Natsuo/reader)

When it came to bringing you home to meet his family Natsuo was...hesitant to say the least. It was no secret to you that his family was tough, especially when it came to his father, who he seemed bent on that you never have the misfortune of meeting. You had already met Fuyumi. You had shown up at the Todoroki household to meet Natsuo for a date and you happened to run into her. She stayed with you until he was ready and luckily Enji hadn't been home that evening. You met Fuyumi a few other instances away from their home as well. She seemed to like you a lot and you liked her. She was always friendly and welcoming towards you. She was nice. Really, most of his family seemed nice given the circumstances. All of them but Enji. 

The moment Enji learned his son had a girlfriend he insisted on meeting you. He had no real interest in you, Natsuo explained. He just wanted a chance to determine if he thought you met his standards. To determine if he'd allow his oldest son to say with you. Of course, Natsuo didn't care if you were up to his father's standards. You exceeded his own standards and left him breathless with every smile you gave him. His father's petty views wouldn't ever determine how Natsuo felt about you.

You never pushed Natsuo to take you home to his father and he was thankful for that; however, one sunny afternoon you almost left him speechless and stuck in his tracks. The both of you had been walking to the campus bookstore during your shared break so he could grab a last-minute textbook and then you planned to grab a quick lunch before having to part ways. The sun was beaming in the sky, the air held a slight breeze and the campus smelled of freshly cut grass- it was the perfect spring day. He was chatting about his day so far and sidetracking to plans to do something together later in the evening as usual. You listened to him, paying only half attention as your mind wandered to what Natsuo had told you that morning before class. 

"My dad's bugging me about you again" he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "I don't think he'll ever take the hint and just leave you alone. You don't have to do anything just because he wants you to."

You knew it bothered Natsuo. His father always bringing you up and trying to get more information about you. You were pretty sure he was right about Enji not dropping the subject anytime in the near or far future.

So, without much of a thought, you spoke up. "Tonight you should tell your dad I'll come for dinner and meet him."

Natsuo grew silent almost immediately as his eyes widened and he stopped just short of the bookstore's front doors. "You want to meet him?" He asked, stepping up to hold the door open for you. You quietly muttered a "yeah" before walking in and disappearing into one of the isles. He followed you quickly, "Why?" he questioned, "did he say something to you? You don't have to do anything for that man really-"

"No, he didn't." Natsuo had always been worried that Endeavor would get tired of his excuses and seek you out himself. "I'll have to meet him eventually, right? Let's just get it done with."

Natsuo frowned, "I know, but...I just don't want him to..." he gave a sort of half-shrug as he gave up trying to find the right words. He pressed his lips together and thumbed at one of the books on the shelf. 

Smiling you took his hand, "it'll be alright. He's not going to scare me away from you. If he wants to judge me then let him, it doesn't matter what he has to say anyway." 

Natsuo squeezed your hand lightly with a delayed nod. "I'll tell him...come to my place around six?"

"And we can go to my place afterward" you smiled, knowing that Natsuo likely wouldn't want to stick around with you after dinner.

You hadn't been nervous until you found yourself standing at the Todoroki's front door, waiting patiently for someone to answer. You had gotten ready as you normally did, besides taking a little more time in piecing together a nicer looking outfit and trying a little harder on your hair. While you didn't care what Enji thought, you figured you'd look nice for Natsuo at least. While on your way here you could feel the slight stir of nerves in your stomach, but now they were jumping to life and threatening to eat you up. Waiting at the door would always be the most nerve-wracking part. What if Enji answered and not Fuyumi or Natsuo? What if Shoto was home and answered? You hadn't met the young UA student yet.

Thankfully, when the door swung open you were greeted with Natsuo's nervous, but smiling face. "Hey" he breathed, welcoming you in and taking your jacket. "You're right on time, the food is pretty much done." He grabbed your arm, gently tugging you back to press a kiss on top of your head before you entered the living area.

You had seen Endeavor before, but never in person. Just judging by the pictures or new clips you'd seen of him in action you knew he was an intimidating man. You couldn't imagine what he'd be like standing before you in person. Enji was standing as if waiting for you to come in and greet him. 

Oh yeah, he was way more intimidating in person.

Swallowing your nerves you smile and greet him politely. "It's so nice to finally meet you. My name is y/n"

"I had thought the day would never come, you seem so fond of excuses." 

"It's been a long time coming!" You beamed a smile rather than returning his rudeness. "I would've come sooner but the university is just so busy this semester, work and everything else keeps me pretty occupied."

He almost scoffed and kept his arms crossed over his chest, "Enji Todoroki" he finally introduced himself. 

Your introductions had been rocky and awkward, but as dinner progressed you found it becoming easier to be there. Enji hadn't wasted any time in questioning you about everything. You university career, what kind of job you were holding down at the moment, how you had met Natsuo- all of the basics really. Eventually, he'd move onto your family, which left Natsuo with a frown. He knew what was coming. Everyone else had left the dinner table at Enji's silent request. He sat at the head of the table, staring you down. "You're last names sounds familiar." He began, not paying much attention Natsuo as he shifted in his seat uncomfortably and, despite knowing what was going to happen, rather unprepared to listen. "Are you related to that old pro?" He questioned.

Your grandfather had been a hero in his prime, a rather well-known one at that. Your father had gone the same route, while your mother had stayed away from the public eye. Your family was known for a pretty powerful quick and a rather good heroism track record.

"I am" you nodded, predicting his next question before he had the chance to answer. "I inherited my grandfather's and father's quirk." Enji didn't smile at you, it was more of a grin as he glanced to Natsuo. You spoke more about your family before the words that Natsuo had been dreading all night left his father's mouth.

"I was worried Natsuo would bring home some weakling- or even worse some quirkless nobody, but you have potential." You were about to thank him, but he didn't give you the chance. "You and her will have extraordinary children, don't you think Natsuo?"

Natsuo didn't reply, just grabbed your hand under the table and grit his teeth. "If you'll excuse me" you smiled awkwardly before getting up to find the bathroom. Natsuo stood up as well, grabbing the plates on the table and taking then to the kitchen. Enji followed his son, leaning on the doorway as he watched the young man clean up. 

After taking a few calming seconds to yourself in the bathroom you washed your hands and took a deep breath before heading hack to Natsuo. You were surprised to hear laughing coming from the kitchen and even more surprised to recognize it as Enji’s. It hadn't been hard to hear Enji's booming laugh and voice from where stood unseen in the hall. Enji was talking more about you and your quirk; about the kids, you’d have would keep the Todoroki name strong. Your face flushed red in slight embarrassment over what you had to hear, it was uncomfortable, to say the least. Enji was talking about you like some breeding stalk- as if you as a person wasn’t even on his mind.

“Stop talking about her like that!” Natsuo snapped. Your heart jumped when you felt Natsuo breeze past you and disappear. You didn't stay to listen to what Enji was muttering under his breath. Instead, you spun around to follow your boyfriend. 

Natsuo was in his room, the door left unlocked as you slowly opened it and peeked inside. Your lips turned to a frown to find him pacing the length of the room. His face was heated in anger before he stopped to drag his fingers through his hair with a deep breath. He plopped down on the bed, leaving you room to step in and take a seat beside him. “Natsuo?” You asked, “What's wrong?” You rubbed circles on his back with one hand with the other cupped his face and urged him to turn his head to you. He didn't meet your gaze, his eyes were filled to the brim with tears as more and more began to drip down his face. His jaw was clenched as if he was stopping himself from spilling out to you. He wouldn't talk until he calmed himself down. "Natsuo" you cooed softy, moving your thumb to brush away a few stray tears. "don't cry it's alright." The moment you moved to hug him he gladly wrapped his arms around your shoulders, squeezing you tightly and pressing his face into the crook of your neck. Tears melted into your skin as he took a shaky inhale and nuzzled into you. "Whatever your father says, it doesn't matter." You wracked a hand through his hair before he pulled away from you a bit.

His eyes were puffy and red now, along with his cheeks. His eyes seemed to be signed red in slight embarrassment for falling apart like this in front of you. He rubbed his sleeve over his eyes and swallowed the lump in his throat. "I'm sorry" he began quietly.

You shake your head, "don't apologize, we all break down sometimes." 

"It just makes me so angry to hear him talk about you like that." He clutched the blanket in his fist, "I don't care if you have a powerful quirk or if we'll have strong kids- You're so much more than that to me!" He slipped his hands into yours. "You're beautiful and kind and funny and smart- there's so much about you that I love- I love all of you."

A small flurry of butterflies rushed through your stomach and your face began to heat up at his words. "I know you do...I love you too Natsuo. The things your dad said are wrong and just...horrible, but I don't care. I don't care what he thinks of me. I know it must be hard, he's your dad after all, but all that matters is how you and I feel. I love you Natsuo."

His lips curved into a small smile as he moved to wrap his arms around your shoulders once again. You hugged him back, trying to match just how hard he was squeezing in his bear hug. “I love so much” he sighed.

[timeagainreviews]

My Series 10 Rewatch: The Husbands of River Song

One of the beautiful aspects of starting this blog has been the opportunity to revisit old episodes. The title of this blog "Time and Time Again," isn’t just a reference both to Twin Peaks and Doctor Who, but also a raison d'être. The hope is that repeat viewings will bring forth new insights. Things I loathed previously may seem charming in hindsight. Things I initially adored may begin to show cracks in their facade. Some records take a few listens until we discover their greatness. Sometimes art requires consideration.

I mention this because our first review for the series 10 retrospective is for "The Husbands of River Song," an episode of which I detested. It's important to give this context as my opinion of it has indeed mellowed over time. I will endeavour to highlight this shift in perspective as memory permits. Before the other day, I hadn't watched this episode since it first aired on Christmas of 2015. What then can nearly half a decade add to the experience?

It should be noted that I have never been a big fan of Doctor Who Christmas specials. It would be quicker to count the reasons I like them, or in this case, the reason. That being, it's more Doctor Who. Other than that, I find the whole Christmas theme to be hokey. Growing up, I was a Halloween kid. I really don't like Christmas all that much, so an entire episode themed around it is not my idea of a good time. Even worse is when the villains themselves have Christmassy gimmicks like Santa robots or evil snowmen. I suppose in some ways, it's in the Christmas spirit for the Doctor to die and regenerate on Christmas, as they so often do. The concept of birth and renewal are a big part of the holiday. But if I was known to die a lot on Christmas, I might use my time machine to skip it every year.

Landing his TARDIS on Christmas Day, in the year 5343 is Peter Capaldi as the Twelfth Doctor. The planet, Mendorax Dellora, is one of Steven Moffat's usual Christmas village planets, stuck somewhere in a vortex of quaint sentiment. The Doctor appears to have about as much Christmas spirit as I do. Having just lost Clara both in spirit and memory, he's reverted to the Doctor's most worrisome state- hermitic and bitter. Not even the TARDIS' holographically generated reindeer antlers can bring out the holiday cheer. It's a visit from Nardole, a nebbish sort of man, that brings the Doctor out of his slump. Mistaking him for a surgeon, he leads the Doctor to what appears to be a crash-landed saucer. The obscene redness of its exterior against the plain backdrop gave me the strangest pangs of the circus tent from "Killer Klowns from Outer Space." Just throwing that out there.

From the outset, Peter Capaldi is at his most charming. I've never actually covered a Twelfth Doctor story before now, so I would like to mention how much I adore his performance as the Doctor. I know he gets a lot of flack from certain fans (see: dipshit morons with no class), but I think he's brilliant. Right away his banter with Nardole is apparent. It's easy to see why someone may have watched Capaldi and Matt Lucas interacting and thought "There's something here." Lucas' history in comedy gives him great timing as the foil to the Twelfth Doctor's eccentricity.

However, it won't be Nardole filling the role of co-star for long. As the Doctor enters the ship of King Hydroflax, he is greeted by the familiar face of River Song. As I have mentioned previously, I have issues with the way River's story plays out, but by this point in the show, I had grown to love her. Which is why this episode pains me so much. The problems inherent in having the Doctor and River's relationship play out like two ships in the night are at their worst in this episode, but I'll get to that in due time.

The King Hydroflax, played with great relish by Greg Davies is a mere head atop a giant robot body, painted in the same garish red as the flying saucer. River, acting very unlike herself, is practically prostrating herself in front of the vain king. Furthermore, she doesn't seem to recognise the Doctor's new face at all. Even more disturbing to the Doctor is the fact that River appears to be married to the king tyrant, talking about him as some sort of cherished lover. After analysing his new patient, the Doctor discovers a foreign body lodged into Hydroflax's skull. All the while, the king's loyal subjects watch a live feed of the operation, booing the Doctor when he refuses to placate the ego of their leader. It's an idea that has become painfully more believable in the years since airing.

The Doctor and River go into another room of the ship where River explains that the foreign body is, in fact, the most valuable diamond in the universe known as the Halassi Androvar. Somewhat to the Doctor's relief, he discovers that River's love for the king has been a ruse to recover the diamond for the Halassi people, from whom it was stolen. Much like the Doctor has turned into a bitter hermit, loneliness has brought out River's more sadistic nature as she takes to the idea of killing Hyrdroflax for the diamond in stride. Less enthusiastic of the idea than even the Doctor is the emperor himself, who has somehow managed to eavesdrop on two Time Lords while walking around in a massive robotic body. This kind of logic will continue throughout the night.

The king is much displeased with learning that his new wife is some renegade archaeologist with a sonic trowel. Taunting the pair, he removes his head from his robot body, leading River to improvise. Holding his head hostage at trowelpoint, River improvises and takes the entire head in a duffel bag. River's other husband, a beautiful but submissive man named Ramone, teleports her and the Doctor to safety with the head in tow. Meanwhile, Hyrdoflax's body sets about taking on a new head in the form of poor Nardole. It’s worth noting that River wiping Ramone’s mind of any knowledge that they were married is a bit creepy. There are implications involved that kind of gross me out.

The Doctor, having just met Ramone, is taken aback after having met yet another of River's husbands. Beginning to feel like a bit of an afterthought the Doctor takes small potshots at River's sense of loyalty, while also fishing for clues that he may or may not have ever meant something to her. For all this episode does to highlight the Doctor and River's secret feelings for one another, it does a piss poor job of actually staying true to River's character in one key manner. Throughout a majority of the episode, River fails repeatedly to recognise the Doctor for who he is.

Moffat tries somewhat to cover his tracks by making it look as though River only knows of twelve previous regenerations, including the War Doctor. In what looks like one of the cheapest props of the episode, she even has a little fold-out wallet with all of the Doctors' pictures. Knowing that the Eleventh Doctor was the end of his regeneration cycle, she never even considers the idea that the Doctor may have lived on. Even though toward the end of the episode, she remarks that the Doctor always finds a way to cheat fate, she wholeheartedly buys into the idea that the Doctor would just never regenerate beyond the Eleventh Doctor. In a single episode, not even River's own logic believes River's own logic.

Learning that River sometimes shows up to places he's been long enough to take the TARDIS for a joyride, the Doctor is given a chance to act as a bit of a spectator in his own life. There is a definite bit of glee to be found in the Twelfth Doctor's over the top reaction to his own TARDIS. Finally being able to say "It's bigger on the inside," the Doctor savours the moment to great comical effect. Ramone parts ways to he and River's pre-established rendezvous point. However, he is cut short by the giant robot body holding a gun to Nardole's head. Poor Nardole, he's having such a rough go of things. First, he brings the wrong surgeon, then he loses his body, and now he's being held hostage by his new body. The robot’s only demand is that Ramone send a message to River.

River, as always, is quite at home in the TARDIS, even taking a moment to raid the liquor cabinet of which not even the Doctor was aware. However, her flawless piloting of the TARDIS is thrown out of whack by unforeseen circumstances. Even after the Doctor deduces that the TARDIS won't fly while it senses the King's head and body are both inside and outside the TARDIS, River still doesn't grasp the fact that he is the Doctor. I would also like mention that while I found the TARDIS' failsafe to be a rather creative invention, it did immediately make me wonder about the Cyberhead Handles' body. What constitutes a body the TARDIS recognises? Could the Face of Boe fly in the TARDIS? Could Dorium Maldovar? Oh well, it doesn't really matter.

A knock on the TARDIS door from Ramone, now part of the robot, quickly reunites the head and body. However, for the third time in this episode, any action is immediately sidestepped by yet another person taking a disembodied head hostage. This time it's the Doctor threatening to throw Hydroflax's head down the garbage chute. Every chance this episode gets, it bravely avoids the perils of forming some sort of plot. The stakes have never been lower. The Doctor and River take the TARDIS to a restaurant aboard the starship Harmony and Redemption. Everyone onboard is some sort of war criminal or seedy individual, including the Maître d', a bug faced man named Flemming. After taking a seat in the restaurant, River reveals that she never planned on returning the diamond to the people of Halassi. Instead, she plans on selling it to the highest bidder.

The Doctor uses this moment to probe River for further information. River reads silently from her TARDIS diary. She reveals to the Doctor that the person who gave her the diary was the type of man who would know just how long a diary she would need. It's at this moment that the Doctor begins to see traces that River is very much still in love with him and that she may be a little lost without him. I would say this scene was touching if it weren't for the fact that it was undercut by River's inability to recognise the man sitting directly in front of her. It's so out of character for River to be this myopic. By this point in my initial watch through, I was so annoyed by this betrayal of her character that it took me out of the story completely. The second time around was only a little less irritating due to the fact that at least now I expected it.

River's buyer turns out to be Scratch, a very Moffatty body horror bad guy, in the vein of characters like Colony Sarff or the Headless Monks. After accepting River's price, Scratch opens his head like a coin purse and pulls out a little orb that connects to any bank in the universe. By this point, I've grown accustomed to Moffat's over the top exploits like this. It's feasible to imagine that Scratch's cruel master may have torn his head open to store money. It's like in "The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy," when Humma Kavula removes a servant's nose to reveal a control pad that opens a series of draws tucked into his chest. However, it gets a bit far fetched when it is revealed that many other diners in the restaurant are the same species as Scratch and they all have the same scar across their faces. Is this some evolutionary trait? Are they a species so greedy that they evolved a place to squirrel away their money? Do they keep other stuff like car keys or bags of space weed? Not every bad guy needs to be a toy, Moffat!

The reason the patrons suddenly turn on the Doctor and River is that they discover the diamond is lodged within the head of their great leader. This brings up even more questions about their heads. Why doesn't Hydroflax’s head have the same scar? Are they the same species? How did this asshole even get so much power in the first place? There seems to be neither anything likable nor competent about him... oh right. Once again, the events of the years since have made this episode more believable. Dinner is even further interrupted by the King's body barging in, demanding its proper head. Only now it deems King Hydroflax's head unsuitable. Having been detached from his body for too long, the King's head is now dying. The body disintegrates the King's head, leaving behind the diamond. Flemming uses this opportunity to alert the patrons of the restaurant to the fact that River knows the perfect person to become the next head of state, so to speak. Of course, it's the Doctor.

Why Flemming knows River knows a Time Lord, but doesn't know she herself is a Time Lord is anyone's guess. Or maybe he knows and is just throwing shade by implying that the Doctor is a better Time Lord. It's at this moment that Alex Kingston is given one of her finest moments as River Song in the form of an emotional monologue. After arguing that the Doctor wouldn't be there with her because he doesn't care, it finally dons on her that the Doctor has been standing next to her the entire time. Despite the fact that Moffat sacrificed River's intelligence for the sake of a big reveal, the moment still resonates. Capaldi's warm gaze meeting River's expression of shock followed by his soft utterance of "Hello sweetie," is genuinely touching. No cynical sensationalism can undo the beautiful performances given by Capaldi and Kingston, who bring more gravity to the scene than the script.

For all of the hand-wavey tripe this episode heaps upon us, the way in which the Doctor and River escape this sticky situation is actually rather brilliant. In any other show, the appearance of a sudden freak meteor collision with the ship would seem convenient. But River is an archaeologist and a time traveller. She picked her meeting location perfectly- a starship about to be destroyed by meteors. Her line of "I'm an archaeologist from the future, I dug you up," is easily one of the best River Song lines ever written for Doctor Who. If this is truly her final episode, that's one hell of a line to go out on.

In another convenient moment, the diamond lands in River's dress as they're making their escape. I guess she planned that too. The Doctor uses Scratch's money orb to short circuit the robot body with its firewall. River and the Doctor run to the TARDIS while the ship crashes into the planet Darillium, knocking River unconscious. While River is out, the Doctor uses the opportunity to do a bit of time travelling. First, the Doctor gives the diamond to one of the crash's first responders, telling him to build a restaurant in front of the singing towers of Darillium. Then he jumps forward to a time when the restaurant has been built to make reservations. Then he jumps forward to the day of the reservation. River wakes up to find herself wandering into a beautiful restaurant on Christmas Day. Even Ramone and Nardole have survived due to some trickery on the Doctor’s behalf. Nardole is having a bit of “alone time,” which River remarks must be difficult as a head. That one goes up there with Ursula becoming a blowjob dispensing pavement stone at the end of “Love and Monsters.” The Doctor is waiting for River in a First Doctor style bow tie and coat. He treats her to a romantic meal and the gift of her own sonic screwdriver, the same sonic screwdriver she has when we met her in "Silence in the Library."

There's a nice little cap on the entire River storyline here that feels a bit more final than the one between her and the Eleventh Doctor. Perhaps it's the fact that it's the last time Moffat wrote her character, or perhaps it's because even River seems to know something is up. Having heard the legends of her own romance with the Doctor, River knows that her last night was spent with the Doctor on the planet Darillium. This is a bit of retconning that you often find in Doctor Who. River doesn't really know in her first appearance that she's headed toward her own demise, yet here she's all too aware of it. It's compounded by the fact that the Doctor reveals that a night on Darillium lasts 24 years. It's meant to be a sweet line that implies they got to spend a lot of time coupling together for 24 years, but it's really just 24 years for River to know, for certain, that she's going to her inevitable doom.

Retcons like these don't necessarily ruin the show. Storytellers shouldn't be forced to sacrifice the current narrative all for the sake of creating tidy bookends. Should Big Finish not put Peri and the Fifth Doctor in more adventures for fear that it may dilute the Doctor's sacrificing his own life for a woman he barely knows? Does him knowing her better make his sacrifice any less admirable? How about the many times River meets the Doctor in his previous forms even though the Tenth Doctor clearly had never met her in his life? I'm not going to answer these questions because they should be open-ended. It is a thing to consider in Doctor Who. If time is a big ball of wibbly-wobbly, timey-wimey stuff, then maybe the storylines are allowed to be as malleable.

As I've demonstrated above, our own experiences with the stories can be malleable. I watched this episode with my boyfriend because I wanted to gauge his initial reaction. A lot of his reactions mirrored my own. We both found ourselves enjoying it as a light romp afforded by the air of a Christmas episode, while also deriding it for its lack of plot. Like myself, he too felt that the big reveal was detrimental to River's intelligence and went on past the point of acceptability. It's one of the oddest things about Steven Moffat as a writer, no matter how clever his ideas actually may be, he doesn't ever seem to know when his audience has caught on. Perhaps it's the suits at the BBC underestimating the audience. Or perhaps this is because he spent a lot of his life as a Doctor Who nerd, oftentimes feeling out of place when talking about Doctor Who to casuals. But the modern Doctor Who audience has been raised on science fiction and intricate narratives. No hand-holding necessary.

Regardless of how attuned he perceives his audience to be, River's realisation seems more slavishly timed to the climax of the story than anything else. One can't help but wonder if Moffat hadn't been so insistent on making this moment the crux of the episode, we may have actually gotten a more serviceable plot. Instead of heads held hostage and hand waving, we could have gotten a stronger villain. Scratch could have represented more than just some guy with a coin purse head. There are lots of fantastical elements on display, but none of them is ever given any gravity. Moffat's fixation on character relationships is so single-minded that it comes not only at the sake of plot, but character as well. It's unfortunate that despite Alex Kingston's greatest efforts, River's goodbye is undercut by one writer's need to be clever.

[theydontknowaboutusimagines]

Someone Special - A Harry Styles Christmas Series (Part 2)

Part 1 

This Year 

It was that time of year again, the holidays were soon approaching and so where the memories of what happened last Christmas. Even though it was only November, you had already made a promise to yourself you were going to do everything you could to make it even better. The past year you were really on an emotional rollercoaster. 

Going through a breakup was bad enough, but knowing there was cheating involved made it even worse. There were countless of times where you had questioned what was wrong with you and if you would ever find love, especially when your career was to be gone for months at a time. But that didn’t really matter to you in the moment because you wanted to focus on your career and yourself. 

You spent many hours in the studio or with your guitar or piano in your living room writing down all the feelings you were feeling inside. Many of them weren’t the best, but getting them out and seeing them written messily on a piece of paper made you feel better. 

You know longer blamed yourself or felt even a smidge of heartbreak over what had happened with your ex. You still weren’t ready to jump back into the whole dating scene despite your close friends and family thinking you should. While you were over your ex and what happened, you weren’t ready to possibly relive another heartbreak when you just got in a good place. 

Your new album was close to be finished. You still need to write two more songs for it and a few songs that were recorded needed some production on it, but you had a good feeling that the album would be pretty closed to finished by the end of the year. 

Currently, you were in New York, needing a change of scenery. You pulled your coat tighter around you as the cool wind blew on your walk to the small theatre show you were attending that night. When you got to your seat, you took off your coat laying it across your lap as you sat down. You checked your phone as  you passed the time waiting for the show to begin.

You were a few rows from the stage and you couldn’t wait for it start. You had looked forward to this show ever since you booked your flight to NYC. The lights had dimmed, singling the show would start soon, when you heard someone needed to get by to their seats. 

When you looked up you noticed the person looked familiar, but due to the bad lighting and them wearing a hat, you couldn’t pinpoint on who or why you appeared to have known them. You got up from your seat, letting them pass by, they mumbled a thank you before sitting down two seats from you. 

You knew it would bug you the entire time, not knowing who this person was, so you tried to discreetly peek over in their direction to see if you could get a better look. Just before the lights went completely dark, you finally figured it out. 

He was Harry Styles. 

**

The last year for Harry had been one of the best. Of course, there were plenty of times he felt like utter shit, but everyone had their bad or sad moments. However, throwing himself into his work and some traveling was exactly what he needed. He needed the time by himself to just decompress over everything and just live his life. Being in the studio and working on his second album also helped him get through it. 

Just last month, he released his first single for the album, and now he was currently in New York to not only perform on Saturday Night Live, but also host. While he was excited about the opportunity, he was also really fucking nervous. He had been so focused and working so hard the past few days, he decided he would give himself a little break by attending a play at a small venue in the city. 

He spent sometime backstage before the show, so he got to his seat just a bit before the curtains opened. When he got to his seat, which was towards the middle, he hated having to make everyone else get up from there seats, but there was no other way to go about it. 

“Excuse me, pardon me,” he said softly as he made his way through. 

However, he found himself stop in his tracks for a moment, when he recognized one of the other audience members. She looked up at him and he knew it was you. He had always wanted to meet you, having been at the same award shows before, and also being on the same label there were plenty of times he could have, but he never found himself getting the courage to make the move to. 

Knowing he was holding up the entire row, he quickly mumbled a sorry and thank you before finally taking his seat. Harry bit his lip as soon as the lights went out, making a promise to himself that if you were still there at the end of the show, he would finally introduce himself. 

**

The play was absolutely incredible. You loved every second of it and couldn’t wait to see another one. When the lights came up, you got your coat and stood up before making your way out of the row. As you walked towards the door, you heard someone calling your name. You knew this was a possibility wherever you went, you just hoped it was going to cause a huge scene with everyone leaving. 

However, when you turned around, you didn’t expect Harry Styles to be the one calling your name. 

“Hi, I’m uh so sorry,” he said. “I don’t normally do this.” 

The crowd of people were walking around the two of you, so you both walked over to the side to be mostly out of the way. 

“You don’t normally come to plays?” you laughed. 

He blushed, “No, I mean, huh, be so.. outright in introducing myself,” he said. “I noticed you when I came to my seat... and I wanted to introduce myself.” 

You smiled, “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Harry. I thought about introducing myself too.” 

“What did you think of the show?” He asked. 

“I loved it,” you smiled. “You?” 

“It was incredible. I actually met with the cast before the show,” he said. 

“Oh, so that’s why you were so late,” you smirked. 

“Yeah, I wasn’t planning on being that late,” he laughed. 

You giggled, “It’s fine, you made it in time.” 

“Um, I hope I’m not being too forward with this, but if you’re not doing anything.. would you like to maybe go out for a drink or something? Like just.. to up talk about the show or whatever,” he said. 

The fact that you were even debating going with him shouldn’t have even happened. You should have simply declined his offer, but you found yourself smiling with a nod and replying with a yes. 

** 

You both walked down to a small bar that was near the venue. It was very quaint with only a few tables, booths, and chairs. Music played on jukebox located in the very back. Only about maybe twenty of the possible fifty or so people who could fit inside occupied it currently. You both sat down at a booth in the very back and you had no idea why you had agreed to this. 

You looked at the menu before ordering a small drink and an appetizer while Harry did the same. 

“Sooo,” you said. “Do you usually do this when you first meet someone?” 

“Yeah, no,” he laughed. “Not really.” 

“Just something about me then?” You joked. 

He blushed again, clearing his throat. “Sorry, this is probably really awkward.” 

“A bit, yeah,” you laughed. 

“I don’t want to come off as like a fanboy, but I’ve really enjoyed your music for ages and I’ve wanted to introduce myself, so when the opportunity arrived...” he said. 

“No, it’s okay,” you smiled. “I’ve been a fan of yours for a while too. Even back during the One Direction days.” 

“Good to know,” he laughed. “But thank you for not being weirded out about this.” 

“Oh, I didn’t say that,” you joked. 

“Funny,” he laughed. “So, if you don’t mind me asking what brought you to New York?” 

“Um, well, I just needed to get in a bit of change of scenery,” you said. “This year I’ve been working on my next album and I’ve hit a bit of a block with my writing, so I thought maybe coming here for a few days might help give me some inspiration.” 

“I’ve been there,” he said. “Has it helped at all? 

“A little,” you said. “I’ve got a melody going for one, but not any lyrics yet.” 

“I’m sure they’ll come,” he said sipping his drink. 

“Now, I briefly know what brings you to the city,” you said. “SNL, huh? That’s pretty fucking huge.” 

“Tell me about it,” he laughed. “Yeah, I got here last Saturday and I’ve been working with the writers and the cast for the last two days. It’s been crazy, but I’m loving it so far. Don’t get me wrong, I am nervous, but I’m really looking forward to it.” 

“I know exactly how you feel,” you laughed. 

“Oh, that’s write, you’ve pulled double duty before right?” He asked. 

“I have,” you nodded. “A few years ago.” 

“I remember that,” he said. “Got any advice for me?” 

“Honestly, don’t worry about it too much,” you laughed. “I know, I know, easier said than done. I went into the show thinking I had to be perfect, that I couldn’t fuck up at all and that if I ended up doing a shitty job everyone would hate me and then like no one would like me anymore. But the minute I said fuck all that, I’m just going to go on that stage and have the time of my life, all the pressure and weight just lifted off of me.” 

“Again, easier said than done,” he laughed. “Yeah, I keep trying to tell myself that I just want to have fun and do my best, but it’s still such an iconic show, I don’t want to be known as someone who fucks it up.” 

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, I’m sure if you do, it wouldn’t be the first or the worst one who to do it,” you laughed. 

“Yeah, that doesn’t exactly help or make me feel any better,” he laughed. 

“Sorry, I tried,” you giggled taking another sip of your drink. 

**

What started out as a simple going for a drink and talking about the show, ended up lasting over two hours. You couldn’t believe how much time had actually passed until the last call came around. 

“Oh, I uh, I guess we better go,” Harry laughed. “Sorry, to uh, keep you out this long.” 

“No, it’s fine,” you said. “All I would have done was go back to the hotel and watch Christmas movies while stuffing my face with pizza.” 

“Christmas movies already? It’s November,” he joked. 

“Hey! Don't judge me,” you laughed. “To be honest, I’m just trying to get a jumpstart into the Christmas season this year. Last year wasn’t the best, so I want to make this year the best it can be, you know?” 

“I’m sorry to hear that,” he said. “but yeah, I understand... and if it makes you feel any better I’ve been blaring the Mariah Christmas album all weekend, so...” 

You laughed standing up and putting on your coat, “It does actually.” 

“How long are you here for again?” He asked. 

“Through Sunday morning,” you said. “Why?” 

“Oh, um, I was just uh, wondering if uh, maybe you’d want to spend some more time during your visit. I uh, I liked talking to you tonight and I don’t know I’d like to do it again,” he said. 

You contemplated your answer. Again you should say no, just stop it at the night’s conversation, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy your time with even if it was only for a few hours. It had been so long since you could just have a genuine conversation with someone, who didn’t know what you had been through in the past year. 

So, maybe that’s why you happily agreed, yet again to his offer. At least, that’s what you were telling yourself. 

“Yeah, sure,” you nodded. “I’d like that, too.” 

He smiled, “Um, want to exchange numbers, so we can plan another time?” 

“Oh, right, yeah,” you nodded. 

You told him your number and he sent you his in a text message.

“Got it,” you smiled. 

“Cool,” he nodded. 

You both made your way out of the bar. There were very few people out in the streets due to how late it was. Since your hotel wasn’t very far, you decided to walk. 

“You’re walking?” He asked. 

“Yeah, the hotel is just across the street,” you said. 

“Well, let me walk with you,” he said. “I’ve got a car coming to pick me, so I can get it over there.” 

“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” you said. 

“No, I don’t, but I want to,” he said. 

“Thank you,” you smiled. 

The short walk to the entrance of your hotel building was spent in silence, but there was nothing awkward about it. When you got to the lobby door, you looked to Harry. 

“Thanks again,” you said. “I had a nice time tonight.” 

“Me too,” he smiled. “Thank you for taking up my offer.” 

“You’re welcome,” you smiled. 

“So, I uh, I guess I’ll see you around, soon?” He asked. 

“Yeah, I guess you will,” you smiled. “Good luck on your rehearsals tomorrow.” 

“Thank you,” he smiled. 

Right then,  a black SUV pulled up to the building. 

“Well, that’s my car,” he said. 

“Right,” you said. “Um, goodbye, then?” 

“Yeah, goodbye, Y/N,” he said with a wave before getting into the car. 

You watched as the driver drove off before heading into the hotel. You weren’t sure what you were doing, but in that moment everything felt right. 

**

And that was part 2!! Thoughts? Let me know! 

[bltngames]

Review: Lloyd the Monkey 2

Back before TSSZ News imploded, I would often do write-ups for many of the games at the Sonic Amateur Games Expo (SAGE). SAGE is an annual online expo that I started all the way back in September of 2000. I personally ran SAGE for over a year, and remained deeply hands on for at least another two years as it continued to grow. The main focus of SAGE was primarily to showcase fangames, in particular Sonic fangames, but the event never limited itself to any one type of game. It's never been uncommon to see original games appear in the lineup -- especially now, given the modern indie scene. 

One such original game was Lloyd the Monkey, a bit of a strange game, written in Javascript of all things and run through a webpage. That by itself was notable enough to stand out from most of the games at SAGE, but Lloyd was also a completely original product created by someone who possibly seemed to be young and new to game development. Making games is no easy feat, especially when they’re written in Javascript and you’re doing tons of original artwork yourself. Taken as that whole, the game impressed me, even if it was more than a little rough around the edges.

Now we have Lloyd the Monkey 2, written in Unity. The developer, Noah Meyer, sent me a Steam key in order to review the game. Up top, I just want to say how I think it’s kind of brave to go all the way in putting the game on Steam and everything. It felt like just a few years ago, newer indie developers sort of had to work up to releasing their game on Steam, usually getting a few releases under their belt first. People view games differently when they’re asked to pay for them, and critics may not be so willing to let circumstances influence their review. It can be a harsh world out there for a beginner.

Lloyd 2 is a much bigger, more ambitious game than the first. Whereas the original Lloyd didn’t even have sound effects, Lloyd 2 introduces voiced cutscenes, some of which are full-on animated cinematics. Quality is about what you would expect -- I would assume the developer sought out friends and acquaintances to voice characters in Lloyd 2, leading to wildly varying audio quality due to differences in recording hardware. Lloyd himself sounds fine, but some of the other characters are a bit quiet, while others have clear background noise. Nothing I heard was unlistenable, however. 

The story is also a little hard to follow. Not much is done to refresh our memories as to who anyone is or what’s going on, we’re just kind of thrown into the middle of things and turned loose. On one hand, it’s nice that the story doesn’t slow the pace of the gameplay down too much. On the other, you’re given a map screen with different objectives to clear but there’s very little context as to what you’re doing or why. At one point I made my way to the end of a Power Plant level only to confront what appeared to be an evil monkey. Despite a whole cutscene involving a conversation between four or five different people, this evil monkey never seemed to say a single word. He just stood there in total silence with a sinister smile. Then I killed him.

I suppose maybe I missed something, however. With greater ambitions comes a number of unfortunate bugs in Lloyd 2, one of which happened not long after our monkey and his crew landed on planet Grecia. I entered what appeared to be a castle to talk to the Queen, but I think the game expected me to take a lower route, where I was apparently meant to overhear the Queen making secret preparations before my arrival. Instead, I took the direct route straight to her chambers, and triggered the cutscene with Lloyd standing in front of her while ominous music played, even though the camera was still clearly focused on the next floor down. I apparently still had some amount of control, because midway through her dialog I touched a teleporter that sent me to the game’s map screen before she was done talking. If that cutscene was meant to give context to what I was doing, I didn’t get a chance to see it.

That was one of the more harmless bugs in my time spent playing Lloyd 2. Harder to ignore was the fact that, within the first 30 seconds of getting control, I soft locked the game. Lloyd 2 opens with a short prologue section where you play as a man with black hair. If you decide to ignore the obvious and go left instead of right, you quickly run out of solid level tiles and begin falling indefinitely. Later areas feature invisible walls presumably to prevent this exact scenario, but for whatever reason they weren’t implemented in the prologue. 

For the most part, Lloyd 2 seems to be a co-op game. Many levels see Lloyd teamed up with an alien princess named Lura, with gameplay vaguely reminiscent of Mega Man X crossed with the tag mechanic from Sonic Mania’s Encore Mode. At the touch of a button, you can switch between the Swordsman Lloyd and the more projectile-based Lura… assuming your partner is still alive, I guess. While playing alone, your partner is controlled by artificial intelligence, but it’s incredibly basic and prone to accidentally committing suicide. That wouldn’t be such a big deal (considering Tails in Sonic 2 never acted in self-preservation either), but once your partner dies, they stay dead. Your only option to bring them back is to either restart the stage or hope another cutscene triggers, since they’ll magically spring back to life in order to say their dialog (though, again, usually only seconds before they fall back into the next death pit). 

This might not be much of a problem, depending on your viewpoint. There’s not much incentive to switch between Lloyd and Lura, so once you pick whoever you think works the best, chances are, you’ll just stick with them. You do unlock special team-up attacks after beating each boss, but this just reinforces the idea that Lloyd the Monkey 2 is meant to be experienced with another person holding a second controller, as most of the team-up attacks require both characters to do something specific that the single player artificial intelligence usually can’t interpret. Regardless, the team-up attacks never seem strictly necessary to progress, so they can be safely ignored if you’re playing solo.

I understand this is a pretty negative review I’ve written here. Lloyd the Monkey 2 aims high and tries to the best of its ability to get there. I assume it was a struggle to get even this far. Making games is hard work, and like any skill, takes practice to get good at. Just because this is Lloyd the Monkey 2 doesn’t mean Noah Meyer, its developer, is automatically an expert. I'm sure he's doing his best, and, quality aside, this game has a lot of heart put into it. This isn’t something cheap, quick, or lazy. It’s really, genuinely trying, and that matters. 

I’ve said a few times here and there that I see pieces of myself in the releases of Lloyd the Monkey, and I still see them here. I remember, for an early SAGE event, I was working on a fangame project of mine called The Fated Hour. I was probably already a year or two or maybe even three deep in the game by now, and after a lot of hyping up the community, this was their first chance to play the game. I spent months and months coding this iteration of my engine, and by my standards back then, it seemed like bleeding edge technology. I felt like I was going to blow everyone's minds. 

It was a mess. Few were impressed. Even worse, the game straight up didn’t even run correctly for some people. What followed was multiple patches, and even rebuilding some entire areas from scratch. My ambitions got the better of me and I unintentionally cut corners -- not because I was trying to cheap out on doing proper development, but just because I simply didn’t know any better. I may have done the best I knew how to do, but I was running faster than my body could keep up with and I stumbled.

When I see things like the missing invisible walls in the prologue, or how easily partner characters commit suicide by accident, I think back to that demo for The Fated Hour, and how I've been in this exact place myself. There’s even a side quest in Lloyd 2 where you have to track a floating girl as she drifts through a level -- there was a nearly identical set piece in The Fated Hour, where you were chasing a robot. It’s a very strange feeling to see something like that and think, “I’ve been here before.” Like looking through a window at a younger version of yourself.

It’s true that I stumbled, but I didn’t let that stop me. I learned by doing. I kept going. Three years later, a game of mine was featured on TV, leading to more than a million downloads. The mistakes of past projects did not weigh me down and I soldiered onwards, newfound knowledge in hand. 

So where does that leave us with Lloyd the Monkey 2, then. Well, it's not exactly a game to compete with Super Mario Odyssey, but given the circumstances in which it was created, I don't think that's necessarily the point. As a learning experience clearly made for the fun of its own creation, I think it's a success. And who knows what awaits in the years to come?

[jazmin61315]

BIRD CONTROL – BEST WAYS FOR BIRD REMOVAL

Why you should Bird Removal Costs 

Pigeons can be amusing to see, but their droppings can trigger damage to structures and spread illness to individuals and other animals. You can prevent this from taking place, particularly through deterrents and humane population control. Prior to you take any procedures, examine your nationwide and local laws worrying their defense status and which manage methods you might utilize.

Why you should Get Rid Of Pigeons

Disclosure: This post may include affiliate links. This implies that at no cost to you, we may earn a small commission for certifying purchases. Couple of things are more bothersome than walking down the street just for a pigeon to poop on you from overhead. Even worse, that poop can cover your automobile or property in a nasty, slimy goo.

But worry not, we’re here to inform you how to get rid of pigeons and keep these critters far from your home. from top insect control business in your area – how to get rid of pigeons on your roof. While they’ve constantly had something of a bad credibility, pigeons have a more honorable place in our history than you might anticipate.

THE BEST WAYS TO PREVENT BIRDS

Pigeons consist of the 310-species Columbidae family. These birds are technically doves, with the rock dove and turtledove being the two most noteworthy species. Just what separates a pigeon from a dove is nearly entirely aesthetic, with researchers normally going by size (doves being smaller), while nonreligious and spiritual circles consider any dove that’s not completely white to be a pigeon.

They’re also easy to domesticate, having been the first recognized bird to be made into animals. City-based pigeons have actually ended up being scavengers, quiting their typical diet plan for any scraps they can discover, however usually choose fruit and seeds. Many types have actually adapted to eat worms and bugs, with a minimum of one species choosing them.

Nevertheless, one thing they all have in typical is a habit of building rather flimsy nests out of branches in which they’ll lay one to two eggs at a time. These nests are normally kept in the very same location the species prefers to roam, with types such as the rock dove selecting high ledges and rooftops when in a city setting due to the shortage of trees.

Steps to Commercial Pigeon Control with a trusted company

The best ways to Netting For Pigeon Control

Some species tend to be confined to small locations, while others have actually spread out along with people. The single most prevalent species is the rock dove, which can be discovered throughout the world in big numbers. Pigeons are incredibly resourceful and surprisingly intelligent. As a result, they have actually discovered to handle human expansion and adjust to city settings easily.

Healthy pigeon poop has no smell, however city pigeons are scavengers and frequently victim to disease and abnormality. Their poop can get extremely runny and contain high acidity, wreaking havok on your tidy car, windows, walls, and pathways. The level of acidity can even break down stone, concrete, and other materials with time.

They’ll congregate anywhere food is available, making it more tough to bring in songbirds. They can be noisy, unpleasant, and go after that pie you just sat out to cool. Simply put, pigeons, like loved ones, are often best enjoyed at a distance. Getting rid of pigeons is a lot easier than it may first appear, although it can take a little bit of time to eliminate bigger invasions.

Professional that Bird Removal Costs

A pigeon trap works the same method as other humane critter traps. Merely set it up, include some appealing food (fruits, vegetables, and cracked corn are some yummy alternatives) for bait, and after that wait. A lot of these traps, such as the Tomahawk Pigeon Trap, have entryways on opposite sides, enabling you to catch a pigeon per door prior to having to clear the trap.

Another popular trap is a trigger type trap which captures them in an internet. It’s a little more difficult to set up but you can get the exact same outcomes at a fraction of the cost. from top bug control companies in your location. You can utilize a slinky or insulation wire on the railing to assist keep pigeons from perching there.

You can then use duct tape to connect it to the railing at 2/3 inch periods. While a simple method, pigeons discover it quite uncomfortable to land on. Guarantee there’s no attractive food source present, and you’ll easily have the ability to keep pigeons off the veranda. It’s in fact not difficult to keep a pigeon from roosting on your roof.

EXPERTS THAT

BIRD REMOVAL

COSTS

These spikes aren’t sharp, however they make it hard for the pigeon to land. You may hear individuals recommending simple methods to kill pigeons, however these approaches are not just terrible in intent, they can often impact other types you might not wish to eliminate. Here are 3 of the most popular tips for eliminating pigeons and why you should not utilize them: In spite of their old motto, Alka Seltzer will not save you from pigeons.

In reality, nevertheless, they can simply spit up the foamy mess utilizing the same methods they use for feeding their young. Poison is a huge no-no. Even if you’re trying to feed the target pigeon by hand, it’s a simple matter for a sparrow or other bird to swoop in and snatch the poisoned food.

This is a really popular old wives’ tale. Rice will not eliminate a bird and is actually part of numerous species’ diets. In spite of what popular takes claim, raw rice takes a long time to soak up liquids. By the time it could potentially become a danger to the bird, they’ll have either absorbed or passed the grains.

EXPERTS THAT REMOVE A BIRDS NEST

Merely getting rid of pigeons isn’t enough, as they have a routine of returning no matter the number of times you kick them out. Using visual deterrents and chemical or herbal repellents will help keep these pesky critters from turning your house into an event area. It can likewise help to make your property as uninviting as possible by removing those things which can bring in pigeons in the very first place.

Try placing a ceramic owl or fake snake in places they’re prone to gather together. Just like other bugs, it’s a great idea to shift these decoys around periodically so the birds do not suspect they’re simply design. A kite with a hawk shape can also be utilized to terrify pigeons away, as they look like a predator in flight. Ask Total Bird Control for more details.

More alternatives can also work versus other critters, such as setting up a motion-sensitive water sprinkler. These are terrific since it suggests it waters your lawn or garden at the exact same time it frightens away bugs. Sonic deterrents do a fantastic task, but can aggravate any four-legged family members, so they’re not for everybody.

SAFE AND EFFECTIVE CONTRACTORS THAT BIRD NEST REMOVAL

These items are either focused urine or chemical replications of urine. Pigeons and other bugs will get a whiff and believe a hunter is on the loose. However, these products do not always work and can rinse when it rains. A with an excellent track record can be quite simple to make and works well versus a variety of other bugs.

Shake well and place in direct sunlight to ferment for five days. Finally, add 1/4 cup of vinegar to the mix and shake again, then spray your plants or surface areas with it (pigeon removal). The capsicum will irritate a pigeon’s (or other animal’s) feet and prevent them from going back to that spot.

TOTAL BIRD CONTROL BIRMINGHAM

TBC Nationwide Office, Highfield Farm, Middle Ln, King’s Norton, Birmingham B38 0DX +441216959076

[early-sxnsets]

Hurt/comfort for tropes?

(it isn’t smut below the cut, btw, it’s just long)

Sometimes, I wish I wasn’t who I am.

Now, there’s a number of reasons being “The Chosen One” sucks major bollocks. I could go on for a solid half an hour, but easily one of the worst reasons happens to be that even when I’m already failing a class, something comes and makes it worse.

Today, that something is a giant swarm of arachnaewasps flooding into my afternoon Elocution class.

Nasty little buggers have a bite that rips skin and a sting that’ll numb you long enough to let them chew down to bone, not to mention they’re about as big as the size of a fist. I’ve had to take a good swing at a few while walking through the field to get to Ebb, on occasion, but never did I think the Humdrum could send this many at once.

Merlin, I don’t think I’ve even heard this many at once, as compared to seen. It sounds like a helicopter beating in the courtyard, giving most students enough time to duck under tables before they burst into the room.

My hand flies to my hip, eyes darting about the room as I mutter the incantation, watching Miss Starborne wave students behind her as she builds a steady shield around them--the only ones who don’t run are Baz and I, exchanging a quick look.

I’ll never fucking tell him this, but Morgana, he makes fights so much easier.

The sword materializes as he nods, the scent of his magick starting to swirl through the air as I turn and run into the swarm, feeling the buzz of the Humdrum’s power about it.

I feel the bites before anything else, drawing open my flesh as I swing, hearing Baz behind my shout.

“Bugs-B-Gone!” “Pest control!” “Busy as a bee!”

I feel one slice across my face, another stinging my knee as I stumble back, hitting the desk behind me as I try to look around, panting. I can’t see shit--it’s too thick, it’s everywhere. I can’t... I can’t...

“Go off!” I hear him shout over the roar of wings. “Snow! Go off!”

My chest feels tighter, sword swatting through the air. “I-I can’t just--”

“Crowley, you’re fucking useless,” Baz snaps, my head spinning. “Spineless, pathetic.”

My limbs tingle, heart feeling hotter as I wave my arm about, trying to slash through the wall as they start backing off. The desk below me feels warmer and warmer, the world around me breaking into a sticky cloud before it all drowns out and fades back.

I wake up halfway to our room, Baz carrying my head and shoulders while Gareth’s got my legs, holding me all wobbly as I slowly come back.

My shirt’s half torn up, tie looking sliced in half while my blazer’s got a solid tatter to it. I try to tap around, but I hear Baz hiss before I can do more than move.

I blink up, eyes feeling heavy, and look to his his hair hanging over his face, falling out from the hold it’s usually stuck in. “Wha’ ha--”

“You went off. They’re gone,” he mumbles coldly, sounding a bit odd (or maybe everything’s a bit odd). “Shut up and rest, you’re nearly back.”

I half wonder why I’m not in the infirmary right now, but then I remember the last time. And the time before that.

And the time I went off in the infirmary.

My head falls aside, brushing something cold and soft as my eyes fall shut. It smells familiar, and my nose brushes against it gently before it processes all at once.

It’s Baz’s forearm, holding me up as they jostle together, wrangling me into my room.

They settle me onto my bed, Gareth saying something to Baz before the door shuts, leaving me to wonder whether or not Baz left along with him until I feel my sheets twist then pull aside, followed by the sound of our window opening. I strain my ears, hearing the creak of the floorboards beneath his feet, followed by the swing of the bathroom door.

He shuffles about, the clicking of cabinets opening and closing and the rustling of bottles and such until I hear the drag of plastic and the door clicking shut. Then, the squeak and rush of our sink.

My eyes can’t really open. I mean, one eye kind of can, but the other feels swollen shut, and when a hand reaches up to feel around it, I hear a sharp voice growling from the en suite. “Don’t touch it. Might get infected from your grimy hands.” He sounds whistle-y. Is he whistle-y?

“’S’it bleeding?” I slur, trying to work the somewhat manageable eye open, but the light only makes my head spin.

“Yes,” he says, the sink shutting off. “Stay still.”

He still sounds odd, and I can’t quite pin it.

“You alright?” I mumble. Clearly he’s walking about our room, acting like nothing’s gotten him, but he’s bound to have some damage.

“Relatively,” he says coldly. Maybe he’s muffled? Is that the sound?”

I hear his steps grow closer until the bed dips beside me. I try to move my head towards him, but a freezing hand stops me.

“Stay still,” he repeats. He’s definitely muffled by something.

Maybe an odd bite?

I do as he says, startling at the press of a wet cloth to my cheek before his hand presses my hair back, pushing it all from my face and smoothing it onto the pillow.

My eyes stay shut, breathing feeling ragged as he dabs at cuts along my face and neck, swiping antibacterial over it before sealing them with small bandaids.

He stops, breath shockingly still before he shifts along side me. “I need to take off your shirt.” He sounds low--almost whispering. “And your trousers, too. You took a lot.”

I turn my head towards him, and he finally lets me. “Buy me dinner first?” I joke, lips pressing up into a tired smile as my nose brushes against his thigh.

He goes still, then I hear his tiny huff of annoyance. “I don’t have to help you, Snow. I’m--”

“Go ahead,” I whisper, yawning. “Just don’t bite me and suck me dry, or whatever.”

He shifts against me, mumbling something I can’t understand as I try my best to help him undress me.

I feel numb at all odd places. I can’t really move much, either (maybe he had a proper reason for carrying me up here), but he carefully takes off my clothing piece by piece, getting the cuts around me before going to collect clothes and help me redress.

I yawn, trying to open my eyes again, but it still feels strained. Fuck.

“Wh’time is it?” I ask, turning my head back up.

He’s silent for a second, then, “Yes, you’re missing dinner.”

“Shit,” I hiss, trying to push myself up with no success. “Shit. Fuck. Can you..?”

“Are you asking me to bring you up a plate?”

I nod, weakly.

He scoffs. and I hear his footsteps and the door shut without another word.

Double shit.

I shift, and try to get comfortable as I start counting backwards, figuring that I’d might as well sleep, if I’ve got nothing better to do.

I huff quietly and start letting myself drift off, only to be awaken by Baz’s rude pinch.

“You make me get you dinner, then you’re not even awake?” He snips, startling me as I manage to get both eyes open.

It’s a big cloudy around the room, but he’s got a bandaid on his neck (hah!) and a tray in his hands, glaring at me from my beside.

My body feels sore, but not quite numb anymore. Enough so that I can pull my legs up, hauling myself upright as I exhale. “Sorry. Thought you’d just left and...”

“And you wholeheartedly believe I’d abandon someone who’s just been attacked by, perhap, the second worst creature in Watford, next to the merewolves.”

Rubbing my eyes, I shrug. “Given your track record...” He drops the tray onto my lap, huffing and starting to go. “Wait!”

“What?” he snarls.

I stop, biting my lip as I look at the empty spot at the bottom of my bed. “You can sit, if you want.”

His upper lip pulls up in a snarl. “Why would I want to do that?”

I shift, looking at my plate. He brought me extra mashed potatoes, and I can’t help but smile. “I don’t like eating alone,” I admit, pushing around the cooked peas on my plate.

His eyes drag over me, lip till turned up into a nasty glare as I wait, biting onto my lip as he relents. “Fine.” He sits sharply, back rim-rod straight as he turns to me. “Eat your bloody meal so I can take it back down.”

I smile a bit. He doesn’t sound as angry, but rather annoyed, which is a solid difference.

He sits there as I eat, shoveling a full bite in each time. “So what happened?” I ask, mouth stuffed.

He looks at me, scoffs, then turns away. “Told you. You went off.”

“Yeah but, was it cool? Like when I go all fireball and incinerate them?”

His eyebrow lifts slowly, my expression unwavering. “No.”

“Then what was it?”

He shifts. “It was the crackling sound of your magic, then the room felt like an electric shock, then smelt of cooked arachnaewasps. Whole pile of them dropped dead, while you were slumped over the desk, bleeding both blood and magick.” He sounds a bit shaken, if I’m not wrong. Like it was some nasty sight to see.

I drag my eyes over him, watching him fiddle with his sleeve as he talks. Something feels off. Something he’s not saying.

“Then what?” I ask.

He turns, then frowns. “What do you mean ‘Then what?’”

I shrug. “What happened then?”

He stares at me. “Miss Starborne let the students go, and Gareth offered to help take you up to the room.”

“Where were you?”

“Making sure you didn’t shock off my hair,” he snaps, shifting. Still seems off.

I take another mouthful of potatoes. There’s even extra butter on it. “You sure?”

“Yes, of course I’m sure.” His head turns away, topic switching immediately. “Are you nearly done with that?”

I shrug. “Let me eat,” I mumble. He scoffs, going to move, but I catch his wrist. “Baz?”

“What?”

I feel around his fingers, smiling at the thought of them pushing back my hair. I liked that. I want him to do it again. “Stay here. Just for a moment.”

“Why?”

I shrug. He’s doing nice things, and Merlin, I want him to keep doing them.

He glares, but stays, watching me eat.

I look up, trying to catch anything on his face. Anything at all.

It looks a little more full than usual. Almost pinkish. “Did you eat down there?” I ask, sipping my juice.

He nods. “Why?”

“No reason.” His hands seem trembly. Why are they trembly? “How long was I out?”

“An hour, maybe.”

“Takes you an hour to eat?”

He stops, then turns away. I think over the muffling.

“Your voice sounded odd early.”

He gets more tense, trying to pull away from me, but I hold him still. Keep him close. “Baz?”

“What do you want?” he says deep and slow.

“I dunno, what do you have to hide? Being a vampire--”

He stares at me, eyes cold and making my heart half stop, and it lasts for just a second too long. Shit. “Shit,” I whisper. “Shit, shit that was wasn’t it?”

He’s silent, still glaring at me.

“’S okay,” I say, taking my tray and settling in onto our shared bedside table. “I won't--Baz, I wear. Nobody has to know.”

“Didn’t say it like that a few years back.”

I stiffen, pursing my lips. “Yeah, well, we graduate soon enough,” I mumble. “What does it matter if you are or aren’t? Nobody would listen if it was true, anyway.”

He glares at me, weight shifting on the bed as he stays silent.

I watch his hands, slipping mine into them as they sit still, skin against mine.

“If you are a vampire then, then what happened when I was bleeding? Why didn’t you just come in here and attack me?”

“There’s countless reasons for me to not to--”

“And then you cleaned me up nice and well, and Merlin, brought me up dinner? What was that all about?”

“Nothing,” he hisses. “Not a thing.”

“Baz?” I whisper, scooting closer. “Just say something human for once. Why didn’t you attack me?”

“Why doesn't it matter?” He pulls further back, refusing to look at me, so I turn his face close.

His mouth falls open, not yet turning into a pout as I shift in, swallowing hard. “Because you fight me for years, and the moment I’m hurt, you scamper around and help me? Why? Why is that?”

“Stop--”

I huff and pull him in, pressing my lips to his briefly and waiting, hoping he’ll push me off, so at least we have a solid answer. But, instead, he confuses me further and stays for a few heartbeats, waiting, pausing, then pushes in, kissing me back.

I sit, sucking in a breath as he abruptly pulls back and stares over me, eyes going wide. He goes to move away, but I yank him back in, letting him tumble on top of me.

“What are you--” he starts, but I grab his collar, voice pointed as I cut in.

“You were here,” it’s almost a snarl. “You helped me--you brought me here. You took care of me, and didn’t even bite me. I was bleeding out, Baz. Why did you do it?”

“Because I love you,” he spits, nose nearly brushing against mine. “I fucking love you, you idiot.”

I pant, letting the words silence both of us before he leans in, settling his lips into mine before I tug him closer, kissing him hard.

[lookwhataylormademedo-blog]

How to get rid of pigeons on your roof

Pigeon Removal Near Me

Table of ContentsWhy you should Commercial Pigeon ControlTop companies that Bird Nest RemovalThe best ways to Commercial Pigeon ControlTop companies that Bird Nest RemovalLocal ways to Remove A Birds NestProfessional that Netting For Pigeon ControlSteps to Netting For Pigeon Control with a 5 star rated company

Pigeons can be entertaining to view, but their droppings can cause damage to buildings and spread diseases to people and other animals. You can prevent this from happening, particularly through deterrents and gentle population control. Prior to you take any measures, examine your nationwide and local laws concerning their security status and which manage techniques you might use.

Safe and Effective contractors that Bird Control Solutions

Disclosure: This post might consist of affiliate links. This means that at no charge to you, we may make a little commission for certifying purchases. Couple of things are more frustrating than strolling down the street only for a pigeon to poop on you from overhead. Even worse, that poop can cover your cars and truck or home in a nasty, slimy goo.

However fear not, we're here to tell you how to eliminate pigeons and keep these critters away from your house. from leading bug control business in your area - how to get rid of birds in roof. While they have actually constantly had something of a bad credibility, pigeons have a more noble location in our history than you might anticipate.

Top companies that Netting For Pigeon Control

Pigeons consist of the 310-species Columbidae household. These birds are technically doves, with the rock dove and turtledove being the two most significant types. Just what separates a pigeon from a dove is practically completely visual, with scientists generally going by size (doves being smaller sized), while secular and religious circles consider any dove that's not totally white to be a pigeon.

They're also simple to domesticate, having actually been the first recognized bird to be made into animals. City-based pigeons have actually become scavengers, quiting their typical diet plan for any scraps they can discover, but usually choose fruit and seeds. Many types have adapted to consume worms and bugs, with at least one types preferring them.

Nevertheless, something they all have in typical is a routine of building rather flimsy nests out of twigs in which they'll lay one to 2 eggs at a time. These nests are usually kept in the same location the species prefers to roam, with species such as the rock dove choosing high ledges and rooftops when in a city setting due to the lack of trees.

Experts that Pigeon Removal

Top companies that Remove A Birds Nest

Some species tend to be confined to small locations, while others have spread out alongside humans. The single most prevalent species is the rock dove, which can be discovered throughout the world in great deals. Pigeons are incredibly resourceful and surprisingly smart. As an outcome, they have actually discovered to deal with human growth and adapt to urban settings easily.

Healthy pigeon poop has no smell, but urban pigeons are scavengers and typically victim to illness and birth problems. Their poop can get extremely runny and include high acidity, wreaking havok on your clean vehicle, windows, walls, and pathways. The level of acidity can even deteriorate stone, concrete, and other products in time.

They'll congregate anywhere food is offered, making it more hard to draw in songbirds. They can be noisy, messy, and pursue that pie you just remained to cool. To put it simply, pigeons, like loved ones, are frequently best liked at a distance. Getting rid of pigeons is a lot easier than it may initially appear, although it can take a little time to get rid of bigger infestations.

Unknown but effective contractors that Prevent Birds

A pigeon trap works the same method as other gentle critter traps. Just set it up, add some appealing food (fruits, veggies, and split corn are some tasty choices) for bait, and then wait. A lot of these traps, such as the Tomahawk Pigeon Trap, have entryways on opposite sides, allowing you to catch a pigeon per door before having to empty the trap.

Another popular trap is a trigger type trap which catches them in a web. It's a little more difficult to set up however you can get the very same outcomes at a fraction of the expense. from leading insect control business in your location. You can use a slinky or insulation wire on the railing to assist keep pigeons from perching there.

You can then use duct tape to attach it to the railing at 2/3 inch periods. While an easy tactic, pigeons find it rather uncomfortable to land on. Make sure there's no attractive food source present, and you'll easily be able to keep pigeons off the balcony. It's actually easy to keep a pigeon from roosting on your roof.

Experts that Bird Control Solutions

These spikes aren't sharp, however they make it challenging for the pigeon to land. You might hear people recommending easy methods to eliminate pigeons, but these methods are not just vicious in intent, they can sometimes impact other types you might not wish to kill. Here are three of the most popular recommendations for eliminating pigeons and why you shouldn't utilize them: In spite of their old motto, Alka Seltzer will not rescue you from pigeons.

In reality, however, they can simply throw up the foamy mess using the very same methods they utilize for feeding their young. Toxin is a big no-no. Even if you're trying to feed the target pigeon by hand, it's a simple matter for a sparrow or other bird to swoop in and take the poisoned food.

This is an extremely popular old better halves' tale. Rice won't eliminate a bird and is actually part of lots of types' diet plans. Regardless of what popular takes claim, uncooked rice takes a long period of time to absorb liquids. By the time it might possibly become a danger to the bird, they'll have either absorbed or passed the grains.

Why you should Pigeon Removal

Just getting rid of pigeons isn't enough, as they have a habit of returning no matter how lots of times you kick them out. Using visual deterrents and chemical or natural repellents will assist keep these pesky animals from turning your house into an event area. It can likewise assist to make your residential or commercial property as uninviting as possible by getting rid of those things which can bring in pigeons in the first location.

Attempt placing a ceramic owl or fake snake in places they're vulnerable to gather. Just like other insects, it's a good concept to move these decoys around occasionally so the birds do not believe they're just design. A kite with a hawk shape can also be utilized to frighten pigeons away, as they look like a predator in flight.

More options can also work versus other animals, such as setting up a motion-sensitive water sprinkler. These are great due to the fact that it suggests it waters your yard or garden at the very same time it terrifies away pests. Sonic deterrents do a great task, but can aggravate any four-legged relative, so they're not for everybody.

Remove A Birds Nest Near Me

These items are either concentrated urine or chemical replications of urine. Pigeons and other insects will smell and think a hunter is on the loose. However, these items don't always work and can rinse when it rains. A with a fantastic track record can be rather easy to make and works well against a range of other pests.

Shake well and location in direct sunshine to ferment for 5 days. Lastly, add 1/4 cup of vinegar to the mix and shake once again, then spray your plants or surface areas with it (how to get rid of birds in roof). The capsicum will irritate a pigeon's (or other critter's) feet and prevent them from returning to that area.

Total Bird Control Birmingham

TBC Nationwide Office, Highfield Farm, Middle Ln, King's Norton, Birmingham B38 0DX, United Kingdom

[vegetacide]

Whump prompt#4 - part III

Veg-notables - I noticed in some of my older stuff that I tend to write a lot of internal dialogue and thoughts so I decided to push myself to write more about the surroundings and such..for this part I actually looked up the picture of an old, wood mill and I attempted to draw a picture of it with words.. Not sure if I was successful but I think it was good practice..  Let me know what you think.

Thank you to @gumnut-logic for hashing out plot points with me.  

Proofed by me..mistakes.. Blah blah blah .. be nice.

Likes, shares and comments are my motivational fuel and all that jazz

Rating:  M for suggestions of torture.

Characters: Kayo, Scott and John is floating about

Prompt snippet -  no title yet ‘cause I am still lazy and haven’t thought of one

Part I can be found HERE and Part II HERE

Enjoy…. 

oOo

Part III

Kayo approached the ramshackled grouping of buildings on silent feet.  The red rust of the corrugated siding staining its rocky footing as if the dilapidated structure had met its end by exsanguination.  Chunks of decaying metal sat like the curled husk of a dreadful creature across the marred vacant yard that was nestled between the forsaken mill and her bricked siblings. The  bracket space between, a parody of some sick graveyard that lay ragged and open to the sky littered with the fossils of rotten wooden pallets and tipped over oil drums.  

Pressing her back to an ash coloured brickwork of the stubbier of the two outbuildings, Kayo held her breath and listened.  Her eyes ever moving over the landscape of disuse before her, scanning the skeletal remains for any sign of life.  The gaping holes in the main structure absorbing the dying light of the summer sun and obscuring her gaze from seeing anything more than pitted cross beams and the ragged teeth the massive head rig.  

Hearing nothing but the sound of wind through the four and a half story mill and the distant sound of the GDF patrol flyers that had been called in,  Kayo allowed her lungs to once again expand. Alighting along the building’s perimeter she kept the scarred brickwork close to her back, her fingers dragging along its craggy surface as she continued her reconnaissance of the abandoned facility. 

Coming to a wide opening,  she halted her forward motion.  Shuffling along to the very edge of it, she carefully peered around the broken framework of what was once a large, framed window. The mullions broken or missing in the absence of what would have been a rather hefty sheet of glass, the remains of which crunched under foot and glinted dully in the tapering light of day.

The dimly lit mottled interior was in utter ruin, particles of dust dancing about in the shafts of sunlight that filtered in from the ceiling, parts of which had caved in decades ago.  Bits of old roofing tiles lay scattered across the moss covered floor along with support beams and metal fittings. 

Across the large space of what she could only perceive was the main room,  hung two heavy insulated doors. The once pristine polish of their surface now scuffed and tarnished. One sat open, its maw revealing nothing by darkness beyond. If she could guess this was a kiln house. A building that housed the large industrial ovens used to dry out and season newly milled wood.

Stepping out from behind the safety of her cover, Kayo gripped the edge of the decaying sill and made quick work hoisting herself in.  The fact that the large machinery that made up the kiln hadn’t yet fallen through the floor, telling her that the structural integrity was most likely sound enough to support her weight.  

Once within the confines of what was surprising a very large space,  she tapped her comms twice, signalling to John that she was on site and triggered her camera.  Recording everything she saw in case reference was needed later to correctly recall a poignant detail. 

Stepping gingerly around the detritus of wood shavings,  mouse escarpment and bird dropping Kayo began her search.  The tracks she found at the further part of the mining camp some five clicks away had pointed her in this direction. They’d been hastily and haphazardly concealed and she’d picked up the trail easily after going another 30 feet or so into the underbrush.  The snapped saplings and disturbed soil standing out is stark contrast to her well practiced eye. 

After a quick call up to 5, John had provided her with an overview scan  of the surrounding area and it hadn’t taken her long to stumble upon the old mill even though the likelihood of this actually leading anywhere was slim but she had to check.  Only an idiot would use something so obvious as a… 

A glint of something out of place brought Kayo up short and she stilled, eyes tracking back and forth along the floor boards. Something had caught the light as she’d been panning her vision around the space in her inspection.Tilting her head, she crouched as the change in angle caused something to catch the light again and her slender browns dipped downwards in concentration. 

Four inches from the floor a fine, silver filament stretched across the expanse of a large archway at the head of a back hallway that appeared to run the length of the building. A tripwire.  It was old tech but given the environment very practical and very skillfully applied.

Stretching her body out carefully alongside it, her eyes traced it length to it terminus, looking for any sort of trigger or devise hidden under the stacks of broken factory paraphernalia pushed off with little care at the base of the archways wooden support pillars.  

Hidden just out of sight and strapped to what appeared to be a heavy old canister of some sort was a small, blinking red light.  Definitely a trigger, though whether it was for a security system or an explosive she couldn’t tell and she couldn’t risk disturbing it to figure it out. Someone was definitely here if the trip was live.. 

Tapping her insignia, Kay opened an audio only channel to 5.  As per protocol for Kayo, John would only be able to communicate with her verbally over the line, no visual holo-cast.  He kept it short and professional, falling back on old CB radio codes on the small chance someone was piggy backing their secure line and eavesdropping. “10-2,”  a short pause followed by “10-18?”  

It was old school but it worked and kept chatter on the line to a minimal. With two short transmissions, John had verified that her channel was securely receiving her communication and had asked if she had anything to report.  That last part she knew John would usually leave out as she wouldn’t have made contact otherwise so that meant that Scott was on the line too and chomping at the bit for anything he could get on his missing brother.

“Possible contact, have the GDF stand by”

“Message received. Alerting GDF to hold at perimeter.”   

“10-4”   Kayo heard a click over the comms as John change over to the GDF frequency but the quiet was short lived as he once again patched back over to her.  Shaking her head as she lightly got back up to her feet and stepped over the tripwire, she should have known with the Defense Force so close they couldn’t sit still.  

She had enough experience with Rigby to know there was good reason for the Colonel to call on her expertise for the more delicate operations. The man was good at his job in the guns blazing, hit them first sort of way that marked his and a lot of the other GDF personnel main character traits. 

“GDF strongly advising use of backup before proceeding.”

“Negative.” Came her blunt, clipped reply.  The GDF were not known for the ability to be stealthy and in this situation that was exactly what was needed.   There was no telling what else she was going to find around here and the last thing she needed was their big boots stomping about the place tripping god knows what.  Virgil’s life could very well be in the balance and that was a risk she just would not take. 

The line went silent again after that and Kayo let out a breath.  John would pass the information on and he wouldn’t bug her about it again.  The GDF would be either mollified by that or not, she didn’t really care at the moment.

Scott on was another matter altogether though, she would prefer to handle this on her own but she knew that despite her hard no on the GDF joining that it wouldn’t forestall the commander of iR from racing over from where he was reconning.  She just hoped she could clear the scene before he got there.

Pausing a moment to mark the hazard on the digital layout her wrist comm was compiling so Scott wouldn’t trip the thing when he inevitable got there, Kayo pulled a small pen light from her pocket and flashed it up the dark hallway.  Light back here was poor with only a small 12 by 8 window every 10 feet or so making the long length a veritable minefield of hazards. A sprained ankle was the last thing she needed or worse if she happened to come across another surprise like the one she’d just found. 

Picking her way cautiously down the hall, eyes alert and ears straining for any sound out of the ordinary she continued on.    

Coming to a blind corner, Kayo glanced back up the hallway and assessed what she’d already seen and heard.  With the skill needed to trick John with a false call,  getting the upper hand on Virgil, left barely a trace and the set up with the trip wire, she knew that whoever was responsible was skilled,  very skilled. She suspicions made her think that whoever it behind it was a pro 

Hearing the tell tale sound of a jet pack, Kayo did her best to keep her internal mental tirade of courses just where they were and double tapped her  comm. 

“Sorry Kayo, Scott is en route.”  

No shit, she thought to herself.  “Be advised,  area is not secure.  Hold position until further notice.” If she could have, she would have added  I will beat Scott’s ass if he doesn’t listen but she left it unvoiced.  She hoped that her tone would be sufficient enough to pass that little ditty along. 

“Understood,  message has been relayed.” Guess it had.

Grumbling at the delay, she carried on until she came to a section of wall that looked like it had been removed with a sledge hammer, the jagged edges of which appeared fairly new and revealed a wooden stairway that descended into the earth.  

Hugging the wall, Kayo took them with care, mindful to place her foot as close to the stringer as possible.  Settling her feet on the first tread she gave a sigh of relief  when the stairs didn’t just outright collapse under her weight. They looked study enough but looks could be deceiving. 

Shifting back and forth she tested the next one down and so on and so forth until she reached the landing and the stairs made a 90 degree turn.  Taking it as a sign when there was no creaking of loose boards or anything else that might result in her broken bones she alighted down the final flight with a bit more haste.  

The tunnel that she found at the bottom was not what she expected.  It was roughly constructed and lined with concrete, the ceiling being held in place by rough cut wood beams intersected by a newer spattering of electrical cords that ran off and disappeared behind a sealed door at the far end Pocked marked between the beams was an errant placement of naked light fixtures, the bulbs of which flickered and swayed.  

It was damp and water had accumulated in several spots along the uneven rocky flooring. The dampness not only felt with a chill up her spine but smelt. It was earthy and metallic and clung to the inside of her sinuses.  

Listening, she could hear the muted pitch of a motor. The faint scent of fuel and exhaust carried along with the wet soil that permeated the air had her picturing a generator, something easy to procure and set up. Her suspicions peaked again that this was anything but a random attack on her family. They were too well prepared for this to have been a spur of the moment, which meant organized and more proof that the perpetrator was not just some run of the mill kidnapper. 

The click of her comm activating, had her cursing under her breath.  Now was not the time.  She quickly shut it off again.  Scott could damn well stay upstairs and wait where she knew he would be safe. She couldn’t worry about him on top of all this.

Ducking into a shadowed alcove, Kayo parked behind a large crate, ears keenly tuned to pick up on any sounds that indicated her infiltration was a bust  Back pressed to the tunnel wall she could just make out the first door.   It was unlatched and moving slightly, caught up in a mild breeze that seemed to originate further down the tunnel.  

The gap was just wide enough that Kayo could catch a glimpse of what lay beyond.  There was a flickering light but by its random movements she guess a gas lamp of some sort was burning.  Crates seemed to line a wall..  They appeared new and from the markings on the side possibly army surplus supplies. So who ever this one, they had been here a while. 

Holding her breath as she waited a beat for some sort of reaction from the other side. A voice, a shifting of shoes, anything to forewarn her that she had been discovered. The small hairs on the back of her neck prickling with sensation as her adrenaline spiked a notch.    

When nothing changed or came charging out, she plucked a small device from her the pouch at her waist and dropped it. Automatically a duel set of miniature rotors unfolded from it and it began to hover in the air. A little something that Brains had supplied her for just this situation.  

The small device carried a micro camera and was easily controlled from her wrist comm.  The magnetic rotors were virtually silent and their independent movement allowed the tiny bot the agility to move about basically anywhere that Kayo required.  

There were some downsides to the tech, like heat sensitive and its range capabilities  and battery life were limited due to its size but overall it was perfect for Kayo’s uses. It had a few other handy add-ons though that more than made of its for what it was lacking. 

With a flick of her daft fingers, her wrist unit sparked to life and an image of herself from the little flyer sprang up on the screen.  With easy, she maneuvered the craft out and around her hiding place. It hugged the ceiling, its onboard sensory preventing it from crashing into any obstructions and zipped easily over to the open door way.   With a quick title on its axis, it breached the gap and entered the room beyond.

Automatically,  data and floor blueprints popped up on Kayo’s display. Geological information followed,  GPS locations and the general makeup of the room, ambient temperature.  Everything that one could possibly need to know about a 10 x 12 space. It was as she had guessed,  a storage room of some sort and from the tiny screen, she could make out an empty rustic seating area, remnants of food containers and even a small cooker.  No bio reading or heat signatures indicative of a person though and a quick glance at the composition of the wall told her she would have to go room by room.

The little flyer made quick work of the tunnel and in a matter of minutes Kay had a good read of the layout of the place.   Four rooms total,  and no trace of any occupants.  The place had been deserted and deserted in a rush by the looks of things. 

Leaving the alcove, Kay stepped out into the middle of the tunnel and hit her comms.  “Scott,  you can stop your pacing. John,  let the GDF know the place is a ghost town and that they can send in their team now.. Give em a heads up about the trip on the first floor and they should watch out for more.”  

“Roger that”

Within seconds, the tall brunette leader of iR was striding down the stairs towards her. The scowl in place not impressed at being caged upstairs while she did her initial scans. 

“Report?”  His voice was blunt with barely contained anger. 

“Nothing so far,  but the place has been cleared out.  No trace of any electronic signatures that could signal additional defenses but watch your step and stay behind me. If I had a choice you would be back at the island..”

“Tough shit.” 

The made their way through each room.  The storage room was first and proved Kayo’s theory that the facility had been set up for the long run.  The next room was a bunkie with a couple of pallets for sleeping and little else.  There was a generator room, that had makeshift ventilation system that vented exhausted into the mill above, it was heavily padded to reduce noise and the door was actually steel reinforced.

That left door number four.   Pausing outside it,  Kayo looked to Scott and laid a reassuring hand on his shoulder.  The little flyer hadn’t picked up on anything living down here but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t find something else.  

When his blue gaze met hers,  he gave a single nod and Kayo put her shoulder into the door.  

The room was dark and barren.   The only light source the signal bar bulb at her back which swayed lightly, illuminating briefly first one side of the room and then the other as its light cast about in the breeze.   

Like the rest of the tunnel system the flooring was dirt covered but the walls appeared damp with water run off from some unknown source.  It was colder in this room compared to the others as well and the creepy feeling she’d experienced out in the alcove returned, sending shuddered up Kayo’s spine.  

Pulling her penlight out once more she flashed it around the room.   There was a metal chair to one side of the room and discarded lashings strewn about the floor at its base.   Walking over to it,  Kayo did a cursory scan of the floor and didn't like what she found.  

“The chair is fastened to the ground.”  She pointed out, crouching to examine the bolts holding it down.  Picking up one of the lengths of rope she tried her best to push down the fear at the sight of blood that darkened the strong twine, her light once more sweeping over the room.

She could trust Scott to stay out of the way, he knew how she worked and he kept himself over by the door so she could do her job.  “What’s that over there?”  He nodded, squinting his eyes as he tried to make out what it was from across the room. 

Glancing back over her shoulder, she pushed up to her feet aiming her light at what Scott had indicated.  “Not sure..”  Walking over to it, she bent down to take a look and stilled. 

“Kayo?” 

Proof. “They had him here.”  Turning back to Scott as he finally stepped further into the room she held the torn remains of a soft, grey shirt, one she knew that Virgil had put on some sixteen hours earlier. 

In the early hours of the morning she’d been lazing in a tangled mess of bed sheets, languid and completely sated. Happy for the first time in ...she had no idea how long and oh so relaxed. She’d raked her gaze over his fine physique and with a smile watched him pull the soft cotton down over his finger tousled hair before he’d turned and cupped her cheek for a good morning kiss that had once again led to other things..

Clenching her eyes shut she pushed the image from her mind. The shirt in her hand that smelt of his aftershave (the one she’d bought him last Christmas), the irony tang of blood and fear sweat, held tight as she tried to make sense of all of this and couldn’t.  

Drawing in her breath, she gathered her bearing and returned to the task at hand.   Peridot eyes swept around the earthen room that for  lack of a better word it was what amounted to a cell.  Archaic as it was, the place looked like something out of one of the many old war movies she had seen and it was hard to believe that in this day in age people still resorted to them. 

 Eyes narrowing as something caught her attention across the room behind Scott,  she canted her head slightly trying to make out what it was. “Scott,  behind you on the table.” She directed with a head nod towards the far corner. 

Sitting on a small utility table amidst various discoloured rags and  a roll of duct tape rested a folded note address to Scott and a holo-recorder.   “What is it?”

“I’m not sure.” Picking up the note, Scott examined both sides of it. His name graced one side of it with thick block letters but other than that it was blank.  Furrowing his brows he turned his attention to the recorder and powered it up, the small piece of tech casting odd shadows about the cell walls as it started to play some pre-recorded video. 

Within seconds Scott’s face went from confusion to a look of abject terror that found Kayo instantly at his side having no idea she’d even made a conscious decision to move.  The look in his eyes had her heart stuttering and relocating somewhere North of her chest.

“Scott…?”

Instantly everything else in the room suddenly dissolved, like someone had hit the dimmer switch on the rest of the world.  Sound took on a tinny quality and faded into nothingness.  Her panic breath and what she was looking at now the only things that seemed to registered in the vacuum. 

There on the screen was an image of Virgil,  bound to a chair and bereft of his uniform.  He was blindfolded, the dark material obscuring part of his face but she knew it was him. She knew intimately that slumped form and the filthy cloth did little to mask the angry bruises and sluggishly oozing blood. 

Off screen a modulated voice spoke and Kayo heard it as if it was distorted by some great distance. Movement in the back of the recording drew her eyes as a darkly dressed form came into frame behind the battered pilot. The camera at such an angle that the body of the person was cut off above the shoulders masking their identity.   

Virgil’s limp head was yanked painfully back by his matted hair, putting his face in the camera lens as a glint of finely honed steel pressed into the soft skin at his throat.  A small nick with the blade let forth a small trickle of blood but by the lack of response and the lax, bloody mouth it was obvious he was unconscious.

Biting back a growl at the mistreatment Kayo didn’t dare blink or look away as she prayed for Virgil  to show some sign of life. Anything to set the world in motion again.  The poor quality of the holo hampering the search but than the faintest of movements caught her eye and made her breath hitch and her heart gave a mighty kick in her chest.

There, under the ruddy skin along his stubbled jaw, straining awkwardly due to the thrust of his head was a laggy pulse of life at his jugular  

“He’s alive.”  She thought she heard herself say, not realizing as she began to shiver just how worried she’d been that she would have found something else down here. 

The brother beside her cursed and sagged back against her. “Oh god…”

And just like that everything came into sharp focus again and sound returned. Along with it like the rush of a burst dam a surge of anger coursed through her and immediately she registered what the digitally obscured voice was saying.  

The robotic cadence crackled through the little speaker of the recorder.  “Tracy, meet my demands and your Brother will live. No security, no GDF..if not...” The voice trailed off as another unidentifiable figure came into frame and with a rough hand bared down on Virgil’s shoulder. The scream that the action ripped from Virgil’s split, bloody lips and his body’s shuttered contortion of pain had Kayo nails biting into her palm in anger.

The warped laugh that followed the torturous sound was sinister and laced with an edge of madness, “We’ll be in contact.” A chuckle and the screen went dark.   

TBC

[7hyuns]

to be a lover

wong yukhei x male (not really specified) reader

warnings; smut, soft lucas, two switches pretty much 

word count; 5k words  

requested; yes!! 

- lucas smut where the reader has a big fat crush on him and thinks he’s into hardcore rough sex but when it comes down to it, he’s actually just really soft and gently and is worried about hurting you. bonus points if it’s for male readers 

a/n; i tried to put less plot into this one so pls let me know whether you prefer this or the layout i did for my mark fic uwu 

You weren’t entirely sure why your heart had begun to pound in your chest from the panic of being just fifteen minutes late to your class. It wasn’t as if you had a perfect track record; you had woken up late and missed the beginning of your classes countless times. Maybe it was the idea of walking into your class dressed like you had just rolled out of bed, maybe it was the lack of coffee in your bloodstream, you didn’t know.

The sound your shoes resounding off the tiled floors was the only sound in the deserted hallways. Your first perception of college was that people would be swarming around constantly, but that didn’t appear to be the case that morning. The closer you got to the door of your classroom, the more you fought with the idea of just turning around and leaving. Skipping one class couldn’t hurt much, but it also wouldn’t do anything to benefit you. What you wanted, more than anything, was to go home and sleep for as long you possibly could. The weight of week was resting ahead of you, even more so with your late start on a bright and early Monday morning.

A deep huff passed your lips as you opened the door, seeing everyone seated and tuned into the lesson already. Small buzzes of annoyance went through you, seeing your usual seat taken by someone else as you scanned the room for another empty option. Upon first glance, there didn’t appear to be any; the classroom packed with more people than seemed normal.

You turned to look over at your professor, eyebrows raising in the hopes that he’d point you in the right direction. He already seemed irritated at your interruption, and now that you were preventing him from continuing his lecture. When he cleared his throat and gestured to the third row of tables, your heart went up into your throat.

The day, you decided, could not get any worse after this hour was done. You dragged yourself down the space separating the rows of tables, avoiding eye contact with everything except your shoes as you sat down in the only vacant seat.

The lecture picked up again; the voice of your professor droning on as people turned their attention back to him. However, your mind swarmed loudly over it, making your hands shake just slightly as you searched through your bag. You mentally counted the items you placed on the table, a regular habit of yours to make sure you had everything. One: your notebook, two: your textbook for this class, and three: your pen. This routine was natural to you, and you counted up the first two items before sighing as you dug further into your bag. You moved every other item in it around; digging past your phone, your keys, your wallet, all in search of the pen that never moved from your bag for longer than the hour long slot of your classes. But it wasn’t there, no matter how much of your stuff that you moved and adjusted, the pen you had every day without fail was gone.

Now, you weren’t a superstitious person, but you couldn’t help but think that there had to be something wrong with today. You didn’t even want to accept the very probable possibility that you had simply misplaced it at some point over last week, you wanted to blame the universe for making the start of a long week so painful.

“Everything okay?” A voice to your right asked, and when you turned you saw him; the very reason you were so nervous about getting this seat. When you admired him during every other lecture, you would stop yourself and wonder if he was half as beautiful up close, and as you sat impossibly close to him, you could confirm that he really was. The soft brown of his eyes stared at you curiously as you looked wide-eyed back at him.

“I just, forgot my pen,” you stuttered back, watching as he smiled and nodded in easy understanding.

You slumped back in your seat when he turned away, feeling both relief and disappointment that the first time you spoke to him had been so…casual. And so short. You went to delve into angsty reflection on this when you felt something tap your arm. You glanced over, half expecting to see a bug of some kind, but instead seeing the boy to your right extending a pen in your direction. You attempted to push back the blush on your cheeks as you accepted it, opening your mouth to thank him before he unintentionally interrupted.

“I’m Lucas, nice to meet you.” He offered you his hand to shake, his eyes not moving from your face while you shyly accepted.

“I’m ___, thanks for the pen.” You turned your head back in the direction of the professor, flipping your notebook open without paying any attention to it. You already knew that the chances of you getting any actual work done in this lecture were slim to none, so you neglected to even look like you were paying attention.

By the time the lecture had come to a close, the excitement of talking to Lucas had dulled slightly. You had spent the hour rationalising it, boiling it down to friendliness and disappointing the part of your brain that wanted to keep daydreaming about it. You packed your stuff up slower than usual, consciously copying Lucas’ speed in the hope of being in his presence longer.

When you had both finished re-packing your stuff for your next class, you sloped out of the classroom closely behind him. He slowed himself down, letting a few people pass him as he fell in beside you.

“What’s your next class?” He asked, watching as you stood up a little straighter.

You knew exactly what your next class was, you had just double-checked your timetable to be sure. But now that Lucas was talking to you, and not losing the eye contact for even a second, you could barely even remember your own name.

His eyebrows quirked upward, making you cough in an attempt to excuse your lack of response. “I have art history.”

A smile broke across his face, “I love art history.”

At this, you let your head drop to the side in confusion, swearing you hadn’t known he took anymore of the same classes as you beside business. “I didn’t know you took art history?”

“Oh, I don’t actually take the class. I just…like it, you know? Art’s nice.” He offered, looking forward to make sure he didn’t walk into anyone.

You laughed softly at this, drawing his attention over to you as a grin broke across his face in response. “Yeah, art’s nice.”

He kept walking along with you, slowing his strides slightly so you wouldn’t fall behind. You noticed after about two minutes of walking that you were entirely leading the way, and he was following you along to your next class.

“So, uh, what’s your next class?” You asked, glancing up at him to see him shifting his view from something down the hall to you.

He hummed in light thought before answering, “I have a…soccer thing next.”

You thought this over for a second, forgetting for a while that the college even offered proper soccer scholarships. When you finally remembered enough about it for you to understand, you felt confusion overtake you again. “Isn’t every gym class in the opposite direction?”

“Yeah, well, you know…” Lucas trailed off for a moment as he adjusted his bag on his shoulder, “you might need something else for your class.”

You furrowed your eyebrows at his switch in behaviour; having gradually developed your crush on him over the months that he’d been in your class, you knew him to be more confident than this. “You already gave me a pen.”

“What if you need a pencil?” He asked, finally re-connecting the earlier eye contact with you.

“They have pencils in the class,” you chided, not letting the butterflies in your stomach let you drop the eye contact with him.

He scoffed lightly, “But do they have rulers, ___?”

You couldn’t bite back your laughter then, watching as his face lit up in an excited smile at the sight. You wanted to huff and roll your eyes at your heart for fluttering over it, but you instead let yourself enjoy the moment. “I have no idea whether they have rulers or not, okay? You win.”

He slipped the strap of his bag down his shoulder, opening it and rooting around before pulling out a ruler. “Well, see, now you’re prepared.”

You hummed in mock confirmation, “Of course, thank you.” He turned to walk back across campus to his class, knowing already that he’d be late. “Wait, Lucas?”

He nodded in response, stopping and turning back to you in the now nearly empty corridors. “Why do you have an extra ruler?”

Lucas laughed loudly as he fixed his bag back onto his back, “I never said that.”

“What if you need a ruler in one of your lessons?” You stressed, already offering it back to him.

He chuckled as he pushed your hand down, shoving you lightly back in the direction of your classroom, “Then I’ll just have to come find you.”

///

The rest of the day passed by slowly, thoughts of Lucas never far from your mind. He hadn’t come to find you for the rest of the day, and you hadn’t even seen a glimpse of him over any of the breaks between classes. You missed him, in a different way than you had before. Before, you missed staring over at him while he focused forward on the lecture, tapping his pen against the table-top. Now, it was as if you missed everything about being in his presence; the sound of his voice, his laughter, the way his constant eye contact made you shift on the balls of your feet in nervousness.

You got back home after your classes finished, your mood having depleted over the day and lack of Lucas’ attention after your first (and only) conversation. Part of you wanted to remind yourself that you were being ridiculous; pining after him after you’d only spoken to him once. But you couldn’t bring yourself to listen, and especially not to care.

You had hidden yourself away in your bedroom shortly after getting home, focusing all of your attention on an assignment that didn’t need to be in for another two weeks. After reaching the comfortable phase of friendship with your roommate, the two of you didn’t bother to announce that you were home formally, and instead moved around one another unless you wanted to talk. You assumed that’s what had happened today, like any other, although you couldn’t be sure; you’d had your headphones in from the moment you’d settled into a comfortable enough position.

The movement of your bedroom door handle jolted you from your stupor, making you look over to see the shorter figure of your roommate shuffling into view. You pulled your headphones out, looking up at him as he walked quickly toward you.

He squinted at you in a more accusatory manner than you were used to as he sat down, making you quirk your eyebrows at him. “Kun? Is something wrong?”

He laughed awkwardly, “Probably not, but…maybe.”

“Well, then, what might be wrong?” You pressed, moving your laptop off of your lap so you could give him your full attention.

Small bursts of anxiety began to move through you as Kun sat down on your bed, remaining silent. “I just,” he paused, “why is Lucas asking me for your number?”

You felt your body relax, the tenseness being replaced with a burst of excitement. “He’s asking for my number? Really?”

Kun tipped his head to the side, “You never mentioned that you met him.”

You shrugged lightly, “Was I supposed to?”

“No, I’m just curious, you know…how well do you know him?” Kun asked, trying not to sound as if he was digging for something.

You felt a strange shiver of anticipation run up your spine, “Not long…why? Is he, like, a total dick or something?”

You hoped he’d say no, because Lucas had seemed like anything but that today. He seemed kind, maybe a little friendly, but nice.

Kun shook his head, “No, I just, didn’t think he was your type, to be honest.” He scratched the back of his neck in an attempt to look less awkward.

You cleared your throat, “What did you think my type was?”

He laughed softly, already heading toward the door, “Maybe just someone more…soft.”

“Soft?” You pushed.

Kun shrugged, “Gentle,” he coughed again, “so, can I give him your number?”

You blushed slightly, shifting in your position, “Yeah, yeah you can give him my number.”

///

Another full day of classes passed by, painfully boring with nothing catching your attention for more than five minutes. You had been thinking of getting to business the whole day, imagining whether or not Lucas would keep the seat beside him free. However, the daydreams of being able to spend another full hour staring at him were washed away the second you walked through the door. You had made sure to turn up a little later than usual, knowing Lucas would have arrived on time as he always did, and if he wanted to see you again; he would keep the seat vacant.

But he wasn’t there. You took the seat beside his, waiting quietly for him to show up, tapping the pen he had given you a day earlier against the desk. That hour was the longest of the day, draining any and all excitement away from you as you waited for it to finish. You were pretty sure that you hadn’t absorbed a single thing from the lecture, your mind completely zoned out of that room, focused instead on everything surrounding Lucas.

You exited the classroom in the large rush of people, making sure to get far enough away from the campus that you didn’t accidentally hit someone as you dug around in your bag. You slipped in your headphones, scrolling through the notifications that you’d got throughout the day. None of them particularly interested you, and you almost scrolled past the text from an unknown number.

[2:06pm] I’m really tired so I’m gonna skip business lol

[2:07pm] Oh my bad it’s Lucas

You bit back the smile beginning to form as you typed out a quick response.

[3:11pm] Hey Lucas, it’s okay, you coming in tomorrow?

[3:11pm] Wasn’t really planning on it, why?

[3:12pm] Business is a little boring without you now lol

[3:12pm] You could always come over if you’re bored?

[3:12pm] Alright, sounds good

[3:12pm] Hey, Lucas?

[3:13pm] Yeah?

[3:13pm] I’m bored

[3:14pm] Block C, room 22 :) see you soon

You stopped just in front of the building with the large lettering of, ‘BLOCK C’ painted on the side. Heaving a deep breath before sighing heavily, you pushed the door to the building open after quickly glancing over the building layout. Lucas’ apartment was the second on the first on the second floor, and seeing it made you pause on the stairwell for a moment. You weren’t sure whether to just go straight for knocking, or if you were supposed to text him first. You finalised on just knocking, seeing if he remembered that you had said you were coming over before getting your hopes up.

The door swung open to reveal Lucas; hair messy and grey sweats hanging dangerously low on his hips. He smiled brightly, pulling the door open wider to invite you in. You took a deep breath in, cringing slightly at how loud it sounded in the hallway you currently occupied with Lucas. A quick glance around the apartment as he walked along, you following cautiously behind him, showed you it was perfectly average. Everything was designed the same as every other one on campus, making you feel a small comfort at the notion of at least knowing your way around. He lead you all the way to his room, pushing the just slightly closed door wide open, pausing and waiting for you to enter fully before shutting the door behind you.

The room around you was messy; not enough to be off-putting but enough to make you feel as though it was right. Lucas had never particularly seemed liked an immensely tidy person in your mind, and it was strange to stand somewhere and feel that confirmed.

“Wanna sit?” He asked, clapping his hands together to catch your attention. You breathed in deeply again, more so now to clear your throat to begin speaking. You couldn’t find any words, however, and opted instead to just nod and laugh breathlessly in response.

Lucas nodded, taking large strides forward and throwing a couple clothing items off his bed to make room for you to sit. You chuckled at his actions, trying to make yourself comfortable in the space as quickly as possible. He walked around the other side of the bed, sitting himself down and glancing over at you quickly, flashing you another large smile. He scratched the back of his neck before focusing on the laptop screen in front of you, hitting the space bar to play whatever movie he was watching before you showed up. His eyes remained attached to the screen, the brown of his eyes looking impossibly softer illuminated by the laptop’s light in front of him. His lips were parted slightly, pouting outwards as he payed full attention to the movie. You couldn’t even imagine being able to take your eyes off of him for a single second; he had your full attention.

“Lucas,” you interrupted the atmosphere, watching as he hummed and glanced over at you. You wanted to say something else, find the words to express the feeling you were beginning to drown in while you admired him. But you couldn’t, your brain felt entirely consumed by the heat radiating from his skin the smaller the space between you got.

He leaned in even closer, your noses practically touching as he stared down at your lips. “Can I, can I kiss you?” He asked quietly, sitting in apprehension before you gave him a quick few nods. The heat around you reached more than its boiling point; his big hands coming to cup your jaw as he brought lips to his, colliding them together messily. It took a small moment for him to set a rhythm, but when he did the moment seemed to become utopian. You closed your eyes, feeling his lips move in faultless time with your own, his hands adjusting to pull you onto his lap.

His movements soon become rougher, and you found yourself pushing your own hips down to meet his as he tightened his grip around you. A small moan bubbled past your lips as he lightly bit down on your lower lip; your mind drifting back to Kun’s words from last night. You smiled lazily against his lips, feeling Lucas copy this action as he pushed you to lay flat on your back. He pulled away for a moment, making a whine tumble past your lips in irritation at the lack of contact, but he just chuckled and moved his laptop from the bed to the floor. Grinning shyly back at you as he placed an arm beside your head to steady himself, body hovering above your own.

He leaned closer, lips skimming above your own as he moved one hand to stroke across your cheekbones. “You’re so beautiful,” he mumbled, eyes scanning over your face as your lips turned upwards into a soft smile. The sudden slow in his pace, the sudden gentleness in his touches, made your head spin and your heart race. You pushed your face upwards, connecting your lips with his again. You felt it speed up again, the same roughness returning to Lucas’ actions as you lightly tugged on his hair.

He took your hands into his own, holding them tightly as his lips left your own to travel down your neck. His lips pressed open-mouthed kisses over the exposed skin, pausing only to tug you upwards so he could pull your shirt off. Your hands move to pull on the fabric of his shirt, making him laugh as he moved to pull it over his head.

His lips turned upwards in a smirk as he watched you blush as you stared at him. His composure was broken when you hooked a finger into the loop of his belt, letting him know you wanted his lips on you again. Lucas dropped to his earlier position, lips now travelling at the bare skin of your chest as he again grabbed at your hands. The juxtaposition of how tightly he had clasped your hands together and how rushed his lips were against your skin made your head spin all over again.

Your back arched up slightly, his mouth beginning to leave open-mouthed kisses over your hipbones as his hands tapped at your belt. It took you a moment to centre yourself enough to understand why he hadn’t taken your jeans off yet, his fingers simply tapping against your belt again to catch your attention. You looked down at him, seeing his large eyes glisten as he stared back at you, anticipating your next movement. His hand stayed still, hovering above the buckle on your belt until you nodded, letting him know you were okay with this moving further.

The feeling of your jeans being pulled off was short-lived, and you were left almost-naked in front of Lucas. Your eyes fluttered shut as he began nipping at your hipbones, teeth making sharp indents into the skin as you jutted your hips up. A few moans slipped past your now chapped lips as he pushed your hips back down onto the mattress beneath you.

It went on for nothing more than a minute – a full minute of your mind becoming so clouded you wouldn’t have been able to remember your name if someone asked you right then. Then, it stopped. All feeling of Lucas’ skin against yours came to a complete halt as your eyes opened in confusion. You saw him sat up properly now, mouth spilling out apologies as you quirked your head to the side at him.

“Lucas? What’s wrong?” You asked, sitting up and furrowing your brows at him.

He cupped your face again, “You should’ve told me I was being too rough with you.” He mumbled, pressing a small kiss to your forehead.

You rose your eyebrows at him, “I would have.”

At this, he nodded slowly, but then glanced down again. “I think your hip’s gonna bruise, baby.”

You hummed in response, tangling your hands in his hair again as you shrugged dismissively, “Doesn’t matter.”

“It does to me,” he whispered, dropping his head down to press minuscule kisses to your collarbone.

“If you’re so worried about it, then just, you know, be gentle.” You suggested, tipping your head back and biting down on your lip to suppress the moan in your throat as Lucas continued to pepper kisses along any exposed skin he could find.

He pulled away, just enough to see your face entirely, his eyes displaying nothing but how unsure he was of this moment. You took this as an opportunity to switch your positions, slipping yourself onto his lap as you had done earlier. He gasped faintly, dropping his head to the side to give you more access as you began placing wet kisses to the skin of his jaw. As you moved further down, you left a few small hickies on the tones of his chest, drinking in the way he whimpered serenely. You reached the drawstrings of his sweats, looking up to see him already nodding down at you, verging on desperate as you palmed him over the two layers of fabric.

He was attempting – and succeeding so far, to your slight disappointment – in keeping himself from squirming underneath your ministrations. You pressed fleeting kisses to his covered length, teasing him with hooking your fingers around the top of his underwear and proceeding to do nothing else. He grunted, chewing on his bottom lip so roughly you worried for a small moment that it would break and bleed. Despite his previous collectedness, he was now holding his own hips back from jumping upward at your actions. After he released a particularly heart-fluttering whimper, you gave in, finally pulling his underwear down and leaving him to be observed right in front of you. You pulled far enough away from him so that you could see him completely, feeling your stomach twist at how unforgivably beautiful he still was.

He grunted in annoyance, hand moving to grab at the one you had resting on his hip, tangling them together as he released a string of whines. You were pulled back into the moment by the sound, grinning up at him as you let your lips skim along the skin of his member. His eyes snapped shut again, a furrow finding its way to his brows as he groaned softly. You repeat this a few times, letting your come close to giving him what he wanted but never fully giving in. You hadn’t kept track of how many times you had pressed a barely present kiss to his length before stopping, pulling yourself back and watching his reactions. It didn’t matter; after a while, you could tell he was losing any semblance of composure he had left.

The time between being on your knees between his legs and being underneath him as his lips re-attached themselves to your neck was almost impossible to distinguish.  His hands were still trembling lightly as he tugged your underwear off of you and threw them somewhere else on the floor of his bedroom. Your mind was clouding again; a thing that seemed to happen far too quickly with anything in regards to Lucas. For a second, you were tensed up in apprehension, hands moving back to his hair to stabilise yourself. But again, his movements had stopped, the warmth of his body suddenly disappearing as you huffed. You could almost scream from the desperation building up in you then, a heavy whine of, ‘Lucas?’ passing your lips as he shushed you.

You heard what sounded like a drawer opening before his hands were on you again, returning to your jaw and reconnecting your lips in a shorter kiss. You let your eyes flutter open to see him after he pulled away, smiling over at him as a light blush met his cheeks. He bit down on his lower lip as he leant forward, distracted by you, to press your lips together in another messy kiss. You took the foil packet from his hands, hearing him groan softly by your ear as you ripped it open and slid the condom over his member. He grunted again, reaching for something he’d thrown mindlessly onto the bed. Picking up the bottle of lube and making quick work of setting the both of you up, he hesitated again.

“Lucas,” you said softly, bringing his face up to look at you properly, smiling brightly up at him. “You’re not gonna hurt me, baby, it’s okay.”

He smiled again, basking in your reassurance, “You’ll tell me if I do?”

You hummed and nodded, feeling his lips move back to your throat as he gained the confidence to leave small hickies in his wake. You let yourself bite down on his shoulder as he slid himself inside of you, not wanting to be so loud already. He grunted lowly, setting a slower pace than you would have first expected. It took you a small moment to adjust, but then you felt yourself relax, letting go of any anxieties you had before. You let your mouth fall open, a mix of moans and incoherent whimpers of his name spilling out into the air around you. His hand stayed on your hips, his pace faltering only when he focused in on pulling your lips back onto his.

“Baby,” he grunted, head dropping into the crook of your neck, “I’m not gonna last much longer.”

You let out a subdued gasp, nails digging into the muscled skin of his back, “Me neither, Lucas,” you whined, his name falling past your lips in quick succession as you hit your high. The coil in your stomach released, making you tense up entirely before hearing Lucas follow closely behind, grunts of your name being the only coherent thing he could say.

It took you a few moments to find any kind of clarity as you came down, your muscles protesting when you pictured yourself getting up to redress. Lucas pulled out slowly, careful not to make it too uncomfortable for you, and then moved to tidy himself up. You couldn’t find the energy to move, choosing instead to just lay there and wait for whatever Lucas decided came next.

After a few moments of gathering yourself, you felt something touch your legs. You jolted a little in surprise, looking down to see Lucas – lazily dressed in a black shirt and sweats – pushing a clean pair of underwear up your legs. You smiled tiredly, moving to make it easier for him, feeling the soft touch of one of his shirts being pulled over your head afterwards.

He moved to sit back on his bed, whining childishly when you didn’t move to join him in sitting up. You groaned, pulling yourself upward and slumping back in his outstretched arms. “You can sleep if you want to, baby, I’ll be here when you wake up.” He mumbled, pressing a light kiss to your temple.

You nodded, curling further into his warm touch as he pulled you further onto his lap. A feeling of contentment overcame you as you lay in his arms, listening to him softly hum along to whatever song he’d been listening to recently, feeling your eyes close as fatigue finally closed in on you. He pressed another fleeting kiss to your cheek before whispering, “Can I take you on a proper date after this?” Against your ear.

A soft chuckle past your lips as you kissed his hand, “I’d like that.”

[eldritchsurveys]

321.

Have you ever been hurt by a narcissist? >> No. I’ve been hurt by someone who (for a while) thought they were a narcissist, though. Cluster B disorders tend to have a lot of overlapping symptoms, it seems.

What does forgiveness mean to you? >> It doesn’t mean anything to me personally. I don’t make a big show out of “~forgiving~” people. I just eventually get over whatever they did, integrate whatever lessons I have to learn from it, and move on with my life. I guess “I don’t keep a record” is more my style, so if I’m not keeping track of every wrong done, then there’s really no point in me having to do this whole forgiveness bit.

Have you forgiven everyone who's wronged you? >> Like I said: I don’t keep a record. I could use that space in my head for more interesting and important things.

What's your favorite thing to do at sunrise? >> I’m usually not awake at sunrise (in summer, I mean -- in winter I’m a little more likely to be awake before the Sun is).

How are you celebrating Earth Day this year? >> I don’t celebrate that.

What is God teaching you right now? >> I don’t think any god is somehow focused on arranging my specific life in such a fashion that I am forced to learn a lesson.

What does Notre Dame Cathedral mean to you, and how has its fire affected u >> Notre Dame doesn’t mean anything to me, I have no emotional connection to it. So the fire didn’t affect me.

Are you prophetic? >> No? I assume not?

What is something you miss from your past? >> Meh.

Are you beating yourself up about a stupid decision you made? >> No. I get mad as hell when my brain tries to pull some shit like that. I deserve better treatment.

What's the last dumb decision you made that you beat yourself up over? >> Like I said... ^

Do you believe that anyone is truly stupid? >> I don’t think anyone’s stupid. There’s really no point to me believing that about anyone, unless I just wanted to be a dick and feel superior for a while.

What's your favorite version of the Bible to read? >> I prefer NIV, generally.

If applicable, do you underline verses in your Bible? >> I don’t.

When was the last time you went to church? >> Easter.

Do you surrender to Christ every morning? >> I’m going to be real with you, I always interpret that phrase in the most kinky manner possible. To which I’ll say... if he started coming ‘round, and we got along, then maybe I’d consider it. ;D

What's the last song you listened to on repeat? >> A Change is Gonna Come by Sam Cooke.

Have you ever smoked weed, and if yes, did you like it? >> Yeah, and yeah -- until I didn’t. I think I could enjoy it again, but I’d have to take it slow and have good surroundings.

Do you have any big regrets in your past? >> No.

If you were abused, do you feel like it was your fault? and do you wish you could talk to someone about it? >> I know damn well it wasn’t my fault, and no one can make me feel like it was. I don’t feel a need to talk to anyone about it, no.

If you've ever talked to a counselor, did it help? >> I talked to a lot of them when I was a teenager, and it probably made it worse. They were not at all good at their jobs.

Does your town's hospital have a good reputation? >> I don’t know anything about the hospitals here.

What is your hometown known for? >> ---

What is your hometown's symbol? >> ---

Who do you miss from your past? >> ---

Are you longing for and missing a toxic person? >> No.

What's your greatest longing? >> I’m not sure. I guess... mutual understanding on a deep level? The kind of thing I have with Can Calah, I guess. I’m very glad I have it with him, don’t get me wrong -- it’s loads better than not having it at all -- but I sure wonder if it’s possible outside of Inworld.

Have you ever read a Bible verse and thought, "this isn't true"? If so, what do you do when that happens? >> I mean, I don’t read the Bible like a history book, I read it like a myth, which is what it is. So, no, I don’t get caught up on whether it’s “factual” (which is what I assume you mean by the word “true”) or not. I assume it’s not, because it’s not supposed to be.

What are you behind on? >> I’m not behind on anything. 

Is there someone who's stolen from you and never got caught? >> Yeah, multiple people.

Do you wish you could talk about spiritual things with someone? >> I mean, I generally talk about it on tumblr or dreamwidth if I feel the need to talk about it. I have a pretty solid group of mutuals that have good input and experiential insight on stuff like that.

When was the last time you had a deep conversation with someone? >> I have a lot of them with Can Calah and King Crimson, but no one outworld.

How long has it been since you weren't lonely? >> It’s been... at least a couple of weeks since I last felt that real intense sting of loneliness. Which is weird, but I’m sure not complaining, I’ll tell you that much.

Have you been lonely for most of your life? >> Yeah.

What color is your sleeping bag? >> I don’t have one.

When was the last time you used a sleeping bag, and what for? >> ---

Do you prefer to sleep under the stars or in a tent? >> I mean, I’d rather sleep in a tent because it keeps the bugs out. But I wouldn’t mind sleeping in something that was transparent, so I could see the stars but still keep the bugs out. That’d be cool.

Do you live near the woods? >> No.

What do you want to be for Halloween this year? List 1-3 ideas. >> I don’t think I’ll be anything specific. I don’t think we can afford costumes anyway, what with all the other ‘honeymoon’-y expenses.

List five things people have been jealous of you for. >> How would I know what people have been jealous of me for?

List five things you have felt jealous of other people for. >> Having healthy friendships, having the ability to feel and reciprocate romantic love, having a shit-ton of tattoos, having access to good drugs, having a broader range of writing skill.

Do you start to feel jealous of someone after they've hurt you? >> No??? That’s an interesting response.

Does your astrological sign match up to your personality? >> My natal chart does seem to have a lot of insights to my personality.

Which bugs do you hate the most? >> Ones that come in swarms.

What is your favorite shade of brown? >> The really rich, dark shade.

Do people tell you you look sick when you wear a certain color? If yes, what color? >> I’ve never been told that, no.

Do you find yourself exhausted much of the time? >> No.

Do you find that people call you lazy, even though you're always exhausted? >> ---

What color is your toilet seat? >> White.

Would you rather live in an apartment or a house? >> I don’t think I really care, but I will say I’m not particularly fond of living so close to so many other strangers. It just feels unnatural.

What's one thing you had growing up that you miss now? >> ---

List three ways in which you are a hippie. >> I don’t think I’m a hippie, though.

Do you prefer kale, lettuce, or spinach? >> Spinach all day!!! Also arugula. But kale is okay too.

[secretagentfan]

Games and Gangs

Fandom: Banana Fish

Words: 2894

Summary: Kong organizes his thoughts on the Big Shit, the Important Shit, Ash's fancy new digs, and love. They also play a lot of Uno.

Now on Archive!

This fic was written for @VASaquafoxx on twitter for the BananaValentine2019 exchange!

Prologue— America’s Greatest

    The word “gang” used to make Kong nervous. It felt like he was a part of something dangerous when he just needed a place that would keep him from getting arrested for no reason or stabbed in his sleep. Then he shot his first man in a turf battle literally no one asked for, cried himself to sleep on Bones’s shoulder, and realized, oh, sounding dangerous was probably the fucking point.

    Maybe then this shit would happen less.

    The way Kong saw it, the boys joined together because of lacks. A lack of money, of support, of brains, of good old-fashioned values, or parental guidance. They were grand failures of the American Dream, a collection of broken pieces and half-finished sides that shoved together to stay warm at night and, well, kinda fit.

    Being a Gang kept them from being Losers. And being the Boss’s gang, kept them alive.

    Then Eiji appeared, and they got real good at Uno.

    But Kong’s getting ahead of himself. Rewind.

The Main Boys

    First, some set up. Roll call:

         -Kong. Himself. Observant. Used to get nervous stomachaches at night until he started keeping track of things, like this, in his head. Got organized. Feels better now.

         -Bones. All heart. Kong’s best friend. Told Kong once he got tired of sleeping behind a dumpster and that was why he joined up. Kong’s pretty sure that’s not the full deal though because the Boss accidentally clocked Bone’s teeth out and he stuck around, meaning that was still better than what Bones was getting anywhere else, and last time Kong checked, dumpsters didn’t cause you bodily harm.

         -Alex. Everyone’s confidant. Keeps the best and most secrets. Has known the Boss since forever. Alex knew how to hold a gun before he was walking properly, so, he was probably one of those “lost causes” shopping moms with carts full of vitamin water always talk about.

         -Skipper. Was a kid, bright and happy but self-aware enough to know where he was headed with his grades and his track record. His death really started the Big Shit. Kong misses him. Everyone does.

         -The Boss. Ash Lynx.

         -Eiji. …More on that later.

The Big Shit

    It wasn’t like they were a small gang. They had numbers, lots of ‘em; the Boss gathered people to him like he was the light on a bug zapper. There were too many for Kong to personally keep note of, but he knew Ash and Alex knew everyone. They were a big gang, big news with big allies and bigger enemies.

    They had allies in Chinatown, Shorter Wong: a good guy who looked after his boys, couldn’t make lo mein for shit, and usually disappeared when stuff got too shady because he had a sister to stay alive for. He died too.

    They also had enemies. Small fry like Arthur: a bitter coward who had probably never rubbed anyone the right way in his entire life and large fry like the Corsican and Chinese mafia.

    All of it’s a mess. Kong doesn’t like to think about it. No one does. Not without hurting.

The Important Shit

    The thing was, the Boss wasn’t okay. He was a superhuman, sure. He could fire a gun with his eyes shut and destroy an army with a pistol, but he also wasn’t okay.

    Everyone who had ever been around when the Boss napped in the other room had heard him scream. Screaming was old news; it was part of the reason no one ever wanted to wake him up. The Boss shouted a lot in his sleep because he was carrying a lot, and that was even before Skip and Shorter died. And sure, hearing the boss scream over the shit he’s seen and done while being sectioned away from everyone else did something to Kong’s heartstrings—

    But it wasn’t like Kong or even the gang could do anything about that. The Boss was the Boss. The gang was a gang. Kong could cry about his missing mom as much as he wanted in the middle of the night—but if he heard the Boss do that, on purpose?

    Well, it just wouldn’t work. It wouldn’t ever happen.

    And now, well, now things were worse. Kong didn’t even know what the Boss was carrying now, but he knew for sure it was a hell of a lot heavier than his mom walking out on him.

The Apartment

    There was also the Boss’s weird new apartment in downtown Manhattan— everyone was talking about it, even Alex who usually told everyone to keep involved in their own business. Kong had no idea where the Boss got the money for the place, but he didn’t ask questions. Bones did, and the Boss just looked at him, and that was the end of that particular conversation.

    Then Eiji had come out of the bathroom and the Boss was telling them they were gonna be his bodyguards sometimes because he wasn’t moving to the apartment alone apparently.

     “Sure thing boss,” Kong managed to squeak out. He elbowed Bones so his mouth shut properly.

Eiji

    The first thing Kong noticed about Eiji was the first thing everyone noticed about Eiji—he didn’t belong here.

    It wasn’t for a lack of balls. Eiji had balls. Huge balls. Startling balls. He stuck around after Skip died in front of him and talked to the boss like it was no big deal— acted like they were friends, got him out of bed, and made the gang dinner like the weird patriarch none of them ever had.

    Eiji’s balls were above reproach.

    The big problem, Kong figured, was that Eiji wasn’t missing anything. There was no lack. He seemed to have money, a home—he definitely had this reporter guy watching his every step with parental fondness, which was more than any of the gang had.

    Eiji didn’t need a gang, but the Boss let him in anyway. He bought him an apartment.

     It felt weird, almost sacrilegious to think something so clearly different from the Boss’s intentions, but who struck around with would-be losers in danger that didn’t need to? Eiji wouldn’t last.

    Why was the Boss keeping him around?

The Important Shit (part 2)

    Problem was, the Boss was looking good, and it wasn’t just because of the pricey new duds he was sporting. Bones was sure to whisper to Kong that the Boss’s usual “don’t talk to me” forehead crease had mysteriously vanished, and as a result he almost looked approachable. He still wasn’t.

    The cause for the Boss’s odd glowing comfort was a mystery until Kong finished a late-night discussion—all their discussions now considering the whole “laying low from the mafia” thing—and was invited by a not-happy-to-be-awoken Eiji to crash on their expensive-ass couch.

    Never one to turn down a couch, especially one big enough to fit him, Kong took him up on the deal.

    Eiji puttered on back to the bedroom, leaving the door open wide for the Boss to follow behind him. Kong recognized the sounds of Eiji climbing in bed, both nervous and amused by how loud he was just doing regular things, when he noticed the Boss lingering in the doorway.

    Kong could only see him in profile, but he wore an expression Kong had never seen before on his face. The only comparable expression he had seen was the one Skipper would make while looking through the window of a 5th Avenue bakery during the winter. Longing: pure and unabashed.  

    It hit Kong all at once. This wasn’t the boss. This was Ash, and Ash looked…fragile.

    Ash shut the door behind him. Kong swallowed, suddenly very, very afraid for the gang.        

The Facts:

         -The Boss was keeping Eiji cooped up in the apartment the majority of the day like a vampire.

         -Eiji wasn’t happy. He couldn’t be, regardless of his smiles and general aura of monk-like calm.

         -It was only a matter of time before Eiji would get tired, realize the situation was shit and ollie out.

         -The Ash that Kong saw that night wouldn’t be able to handle that, and the gang needed him. Everyone did, at this point.

         -Unless they found a way to make Eiji happy, the gang would be sunk.

         -The only people who were interested in being at home all the time were housewives and children.

         -Housewives and children loved board games.

         -Kong had a plan.

         -Bones would help.

   And thus began…

Game Night

    They tried Mahjong first. They borrowed the tiles from Sing, wanting Eiji to feel more at home, but then Eiji explained that Mahjong was definitely Chinese in origin, not Japanese. He didn’t know how to play. Kong then tried to explain, but then realized he didn’t know how to play either. Bones took over and made up several rules and they all tried to play with those but they kept contradicting themselves and—Mahjong was out.

    Bones brought cards but was missing half of them and those that were present smelled like ass, so they wound up making him throw them out in the dumpster outside the building.

    In what was probably a last effort to save the night, Eiji fished out an old egg carton and dried beans, and tried to get Bones and Kong to play mancala. It was actually pretty fun until they realized that it was two players only and they had been excluding Eiji the whole time. Not the point! Eiji assured them he didn’t mind and that he was having fun watching them play—but Bones finally exploded.

     “Just admit when you’re not having fun, Eiji!”

    He was right: it had been a rotten night, but the way Eiji blinked and stared at him would make it seem the opposite.

    After a moment, Eiji declared, almost apologetically: “I do not think I am having fun now.”

    The silence following Eiji’s quiet comment was fucking mountainous. Kong started picking up the dried beans that had been knocked over during mancala and Bones and Eiji joined in, if only to be unified in the same activity again.

    Game night was a dismal failure.

The Fallout

    Bones and Kong were pretty sure their days were numbered, but the next time they saw the Boss he stopped in the middle of his “watch your backs” speech to tell them both: “Eiji says thanks for the other night. He had a good time”.

Neither Bones or Kong made any move to correct him.

Uno

    It was a trade from one of the younger members. Kong hadn’t said three words to the guy before—he had a stealing problem and guys like that rarely stuck around—but he sat outside the hideout with his little store: ready to peddle his stolen goods for cigarettes like they were in jail or something.

    The game was still in the packaging so it definitely had all the pieces; the red box was pristine, shiny even.

    Kong thought of Eiji and the Boss. He said fuck it.

Game Night (Part 2)

    The Boss was apparently set for a late night at the library, and that was all the invite they needed from Eiji to come and show their newly formed skills.

    They wouldn’t make the same mistake twice. They came prepared: double-checked all the cards to make sure they were there and actually read the instructions— even practiced on Alex on how to explain them nice and slow to Eiji, in a way that wouldn’t confuse him. They were pretty good at it now. Alex told them that when they each explained individually, he understood about half of the game, so as a team they’d be perfect.

     “Uno! I have played this before.”

    Eiji beamed when he saw the box. Kong exhaled. Well that was one less thing.

    They set up the game, sitting on pillows on the floor, instead of the couch, which was weird, but oddly home-y. As home-y as the Boss’s apartment got anyway.

    Eiji was merciless. Their first round was unfortunate, with Kong and Eiji both teaming up against Bones, skipping his turn as often as possible. Kong felt bad after Bones got skipped the third time in a row, and started playing sympathetically—just in time for Eiji to turn on him. Balls.

    It was less of a game and more a public execution, which was embarrassing, considering all the practice Kong and Bones did with Alex, but Eiji was smiling holding out his cardless hands like it really mattered. Kong felt oddly…rewarded.

     “Another round?” Eiji asked. Bones groaned, but Kong had already started dealing the cards.

    It wasn’t long before they got comfortable enough to talk.

     “You got family, Eiji?” Kong found himself asking while Bones was staring hard at the instructions, making sure Eiji wasn’t making up rules to win.

     “Yeah. I have a Mom and Dad, and a little sister in Japan.”

     “Huh,” Kong replied, no richer in answers.

    Bones huffed, folding the instructions up and regretfully drawing two cards. It was Kong’s turn now.

     “What about you?” Eiji asked.

    He felt Bones tense up next to him, clearly not wanting this question to pass to him as well. Kong just shrugged, laid down a red card. Bones shot him a look before answering:

     “None of us really do.”

     “Oh.” Eiji looked at them both for a moment. “You have each other though. That is family.”

    Bones blinked, once, twice, and then pretended to look real hard at his cards. Kong smiled a little, trying to play it cool over the weird bit of pride dancing in his gut.

     “Guess so.”

    They played into the night. Eiji eventually got sloppy, letting Kong steal a few rounds. It was fun. Kong couldn’t remember the last time he had fun like this, and Kong had never been very good at forgetting. Even Bones was enjoying himself, now that he’d stop trying to win and was now focusing on making everyone else lose, like a toothless vengeful dragon.

    Kong felt like a kid again, even though he was pretty sure he never was one.

    Then the Boss walked in, and with him, the rest of the world. Kong stood up automatically, Bones dropped a few cards. Eiji stayed sitting.

    He was leaning against the door, and at first Kong thought he was injured, but then he yawned, and oh, that was so much worse.

     “Tired, Ash?” Eiji asked, like he wasn’t interacting with a half-asleep potentially lethal criminal.

     “Mngh.”

    Ash stumbled past them, Kong’s eyes following him all the way to the bedroom. He stopped in front of the open door. His hands fumbled at his coat as he half-heartedly chucked it on the floor.

     “Hey!” Eiji stood, picking up the coat. The Boss looked at him a second. Rubbed his neck when Eiji held it out to him, and to Kong’s utter bafflement, hung it on the back of a chair.

     “What are you doing?” the Boss asked, eyes scanning the room, finally noticing Kong and Bones. Bones waved. Kong nodded.

     “Playing Uno! Would you like to join us?”

    Ash stared blankly at them, or rather somewhere between Kong’s left pec and chest.      “I’ll pass.”

    Kong nodded. Duh. Of course he wasn’t—

     “Maybe next time.”

    His voice was soft. Ash again. Eiji smiled, giving him a small push into the bedroom.

     “Get some rest. It looks like you need it!”

    Ash waved his hand, and shut the bedroom door behind him.

    Eiji’s smiled faded, eyes on the door. Kong had seen this expression before. It was different from Ash’s—but it came from the same place. Eiji looked back at them, shaking his head quickly.

     “Sorry, it is my turn, right?”

Getting Organized

    Thoughts usually arrived in fragments and connected pieces that layered together disjointedly like a photograph developing; like a gang.

    The sights of Eiji and Ash looking at the same shut bedroom door, and even of Bones surrounded by a forgotten game of Uno made Kong’s heart want to reach out and fill the spaces and holes in all of them. He wondered if he was looking at everything all wrong. Wondered if his view of the gang being made up of lacks was closeminded: dark.

    Kong thought about love, for the first time since he shot that man—no, kid and cried himself to sleep.

    This was why Ash wanted Eiji in his house even though he could barely go outside. This was why Eiji could bear living like a vampire, away from everyone else, in a country he didn’t know. This was why Alex listened to Bones and Kong explain how to play Uno thirty-four consecutive times in a row. This was why Kong saved and bought Skip a cinnamon roll from that Bakery on 5th Avenue. This was why Skip died, and Shorter just had to come home even though he couldn’t. This was why Eiji was a member of the gang—no—this is why all of them were.

    Love.

    The thought made Kong’s face feel warm, his heart beat faster, but it felt right. He’d never say it out loud, of course. But he’d keep it, his secret, his truth, tight in his chest.

    Maybe that’s what being a gang, really was. Or was supposed to be, anyway.

    Regardless, they were damn lucky to have found each other.

[raywritesthings]

Baby Won’t You Please Come Home 9/11

My Writing Fandom: Arrow Characters: Oliver Queen, Laurel Lance, Quentin Lance, John Diggle, Felicity Smoak, Thea Queen, Roy Harper, Moira Queen, Joanna de la Vega, Dinah Lance Pairings: Laurel Lance/Oliver Queen, Thea Queen/Roy Harper Summary: Oliver returns to Starling City after the Undertaking only to discover that he’s not the only one who has absented it; Laurel Lance has seemingly vanished with barely a trace for the last four months. As he struggles to piece together the mystery of what caused her to flee the city they both call home, Oliver must also ask himself if he can make things right after leaving the woman he loves a second time. If he can find her at all. AO3 link

So...yes. I realize this fic has been in over a year-long hiatus, but as you might have been able to tell from my blog, I’ve worked up the spoons to care enough about these characters (okay mostly just Laurel) again. Very, very sorry for the unforgivably long wait, but if you’ve been hoping for a continuation then I am hoping you enjoy!

Six months ago

Laurel eased herself onto the barstool, tempted to kick her shoes off in order to rub at her aching feet. Eight to ten hours a day standing inside a cramped tent was killer for the arches.

As usual, it was Joanna who didn’t have any reservations voicing what was on her mind. “Please God, tell me this is almost over.”

“If I have to tell one more family we lost their papers in the quake…” Laurel couldn’t even muster the energy to finish that sentence, but it didn’t need to be. The other woman shook her head in commiseration anyway.

“Hey, come on, we didn’t come out to talk about all that,” Luis interrupted from her left. He passed them each a glass. “We came to forget it.”

Joanna raised hers with a “Here, here.”

Laurel gave their coworker a nod of thanks before taking a long pull of her drink and grimacing as it went down. “You know, I had to tell the Kims that I couldn’t find their deposition in our files—”

“So much for not talking about it,” Joanna teased.

“But,” she carried on, “it turns out the whole block of buildings their landlord owned went down in the quake. You couldn’t sue him for anything now.”

“And that’s why they say karma’s a bitch.”

She considered this, staring into her glass as she revealed, “Now twelve more families have lost their homes and two are dead.”

“Laurel.” Joanna laid a hand over hers resting on the bar top. “I know this is hard. Most days I can barely drag myself to work in the morning. But there’s nothing more we can do.”

“I know.”

“Have you been looking for a new position? We’ve all got to start thinking about the future, you know.”

“The future,” she echoed hollowly. What was the point? After five years of pushing herself forward case by case, client by client, she’d finally felt herself starting to come alive again. Now it was all gone—and Oliver vanished with it—leaving her worse off than she’d been before. Sara, Tommy, how much more was she just going to end up losing in the future?

“I’ve applied at Wethersby & Stone,” her friend blurted. She looked up in surprise at the sudden announcement. “Corporate, I know.”

“No, no, that’s good,” Laurel hastened to reassure. Joanna was being practical; she had herself and her mother to think about, especially after losing her brother. “I hope you get it. I know you’ll get it.” She lifted her glass decidedly, and with a grateful smile Joanna mirrored her.

But she couldn’t hide the disgusted face she pulled after her second taste of her beverage. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah.” Laurel looked at it more closely. Maybe she just was feeling something stronger, but that didn’t explain why this drink should put her off so badly. “You know what? It must not be my night.”

“Oh, come on, Laurel.”

Luis and Anastasia both looked over with vague curiosity and disappointment as she slipped off her stool and stepped away from the bar. “You’re not leaving already, are you?”

“I’m just not feeling up to it.” She shrugged. “And I promised my mom I’d call her later.” It was a lie, but the two of them had been talking more as of late. It wasn’t perfect, but after five years of nothing Laurel was willing to take what she could get.

Maybe that was her problem.

Joanna didn’t exactly look thrilled, but she nodded her understanding. “We’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Don’t stay out too late,” she instructed them all, getting various reactions from too-innocent grins to rolled eyes.

Despite what she considered responsible actions, the next morning Laurel woke feeling about as worse off as if she really had stayed at the bar and long past closing time. How could she possibly be hungover?

Sitting up proved disastrous as her stomach roiled unexpectedly. She tried waiting the nausea out but was soon staggering to her feet and into her bathroom. Kneeling in front of the toilet was not the first thing she’d wanted to do this morning, yet even worse was that nothing seemed to be happening. Her stomach was still protesting, it just didn’t seem to be enough to provoke a reaction. Laurel didn’t relish the idea of throwing up, but it would at least allow her to feel better afterward. She’d prefer to just get it over with already.

Instead, Laurel was forced to sit with her knees tucked underneath her and her forehead pressed against the cool tile as her stomach gradually calmed itself. By the time she felt settled enough to risk getting back up, she’d lost half an hour and felt nowhere near ready to start the day. Slowly she shuffled back into the bedroom and took her phone off the nightstand.

“You didn’t need to check on me, you know,” was Joanna’s amused greeting after the second ring. “I’m leaving in fifteen.”

“Actually, I think I might not be able to make it in,” Laurel said with reluctance. “I’ve got some kind of stomach thing. Really queasy.”

“Oh no! Think it was something you ate?”

“I…don’t know.” She tried to think back to the last full meal she’d had. What was in her fridge?

“Well you better be getting back in bed,” Joanna advised. “I could stop by, maybe bring you some soup.”

“No, you guys are going to be swamped without me,” she dismissed. “It’ll probably just go away on its own.”

“You sure?”

“Positive. I’ll come in—”

“No, you’ll stay in all day, Laurel,” her friend countered, leaving no room for argument. “There is no point dragging yourself to work and making yourself sicker. Just take the day off and hopefully you’ll be feeling better tomorrow, okay?”

“Alright, alright,” she grinned in spite of herself. “But call me—”

“I won’t. Get well soon!” With that, the other woman hung up. Laurel rolled her eyes.

Well, if she couldn’t go into work today, she could still be productive. Laurel wrapped herself up in her bathrobe and relocated to the front room, powering up her laptop. She’d been falling behind in organizing her notes due to the bare-bones operation they were currently winding down, but a day off was just what she needed to get back on track. She flipped one of her legal pads to where she’d last been working off of and started transcribing her notes from page to screen. Client’s name, records they had or hadn’t been able to recover, and status of their case. It took her well into the morning, which just went to show how much she’d been putting it off.

A couple hours after that she decided her stomach had remained settled enough to try for some water and crackers. That was if she could locate any of the latter in her depressingly bare cupboard. Near the back she finally found a box—Tommy’s favorite brand. He must have picked them up the last time he’d made a trip to the store before he’d moved out...

Laurel took one out of the packaging and nibbled on the corner. The cracker was stale. With a shaky breath she dropped first it and then the box in the trash, the thump of it hitting the bottom loud and somehow final in the otherwise quiet of her apartment.

Laurel returned to her desk and grabbed a post-it note. A grocery list was definitely in order. New crackers, canned soup, maybe some ginger ale. Did she want to pick up anything for after this bug passed? She had no idea if she’d have the time or inclination to try making anything complicated. Still, Laurel jotted down a couple types of vegetables and pasta. She could definitely handle pasta.

That was her kitchen’s future planned. What about her future? She considered Joanna’s advice. CNRI was closing permanently, all too soon, and she needed to make a decision. She knew that.

Laurel eyed the email from Adam Donner sitting in her inbox. Truthfully she’d been surprised when the ADA had reached out to her. But that offer wasn’t going to last forever. It was time to stop sitting on it. She took out her phone.

“Assistant District Attorney Adam Donner speaking,” the man answered after a couple rings.

“Mr. Donner, this is Laurel Lance. I received your email earlier this week.”

“Oh! Yes, I’ve been hoping to hear from you. It’s my understanding that with CNRI’s future uncertain at the moment you might be looking for a new position. The DA’s office is looking for someone right now, and your qualifications make you an ideal candidate if you’re at all interested.”

“CNRI’s future is not uncertain. If we had any doors left to close, we’d be closing them soon. So I would be very happy to sit down for an interview with you.” She hoped the lack of a smile on her face wasn’t bleeding into her tone.

“Excellent. Let me just pull up my schedule so we can find somewhere to fit you in.”

They agreed on a time later next week, which Laurel wrote down before quickly making her excuses to get off the phone. It wasn’t that she didn’t like Donner, or even the prospect of working at the DA’s office. But moving on from CNRI just felt very...final. Like closing the door on a part of her life. It wasn’t a practice she was unfamiliar with, but it was just getting harder and harder to keep doing it. What was the point of moving forward if she had to leave everything and everyone she cared about behind?

If Joanna found out she spent the day being maudlin she’d be upset, so Laurel resolved that was enough work and self-reflection for one day. She closed her laptop and curled up on her couch, flipping through the channels on the television until she found a movie she could watch somewhat mindlessly. The only thing she could want for now was some ice cream—but that was a thought best not to dwell on either, so she dismissed it.

By the time she was yawning and heading to an early bed, Laurel felt she would certainly be rested and well enough to return to work tomorrow.

Which of course was why the next morning found her in the same exact position she’d been in twenty-four hours before, crouching over the toilet and willing herself to just get it over with already. This just didn’t make any sense. She barely had anything in her stomach at this point, so what could be making her sick?

Another call to Joanna meant another day off work. Laurel staggered back into the bathroom after she’d gotten off the phone and opened her medicine cabinet. There had to be something in here that would help her get over this bug. But she didn’t have much aside from aspirin.

She was running low on tampons, too. She’d meant to grab some last month, but what with hosting Taylor and then everything surrounding the earthquake—Laurel stilled.

Her cycle...she’d missed her period. Somehow in all the chaos it had slipped her mind, but she’d missed it. How had she missed that she’d missed it?

Her gaze landed on the tile in front of the toilet where she’d been crouched only this morning, feeling sick...Laurel gripped the edge of the sink and met her own panicked gaze in the mirror.

“No,” she murmured. “No, no, that’s not possible.” She’d been careful with Tommy, knowing how many other partners he must’ve had. She’d always made sure—

Except the one time she hadn’t. Except the one time Oliver had shown up at her door and there had barely been time to breathe let alone think, when the sense of right had outweighed everything that had gone wrong in their lives up to that moment.

Didn’t they always say that just once was enough? But she couldn’t know for sure, Laurel reminded herself as she passed a shaky hand through her hair. Not yet.

On trembling legs she stumbled back into her room, pulling on the first clothes she grabbed from the closet and nearly stepping into two different shoes on her way out the door. She spared a harried wave for the doorman before slipping into the flow of foot traffic outside the building.

Laurel kept her head down as she entered a convenience store several blocks away that she’d never been to in her life. It was quiet and seemingly empty of other patrons, yet her heart was pounding loudly enough to her that she wondered if it could be heard. She felt both hyper aware and yet removed from the situation, like she was watching a film from the uncomfortably close point of view of some other woman. Her whole body was tensed in anticipation of rounding a corner and bumping into a familiar face. How would she explain herself? It was for a friend? Just a precaution? None of their business?

She finally found the right aisle, looking to either side—coast clear—before stepping up to the section displaying various kinds of tests. Laurel worried her bottom lip with her teeth as she scanned the labels and instructions. Her attention was split, ears straining for the chime of the door signifying another customer. Finally she grabbed a test that seemed cheap enough and easy to use off one of the shelves and walked with it tucked under her arm to hide the label on her way to the register.

“Good morning,” the cashier greeted.

“Morning,” Laurel echoed, forcing what she hoped was a regular smile on her face as she placed the test on the counter. Of course, the other woman’s eyes immediately dropped to it, then darted first up to her face and strangely back down again...to where her left hand hung at her side.

Laurel felt her cheeks begin to heat up slightly as her bare fingers curled up into her palm before hastily stuffing her whole fist in her pocket. Not that it served much good now.

The cashier made no comment, simply scanning the box—which of course was when it occurred to Laurel she didn’t remember how much money was in her wallet. Using her credit card would be as good as handing over her name. A brief but frantic search managed to produce a twenty and a few smaller bills, and she barely suppressed the sigh of relief.

The door chiming shot her nerves to hell all over again, however, and Laurel resisted the urge to turn and look like some kind of idiot. By the sounds of it, at least two people had entered. Young, possibly teenagers, maybe even Thea’s age—God, Thea.

“Would you like a double bag?” The cashier asked with what felt to her like a knowing look, and Laurel didn’t manage to keep from starting guiltily.

“Yes, please,” she responded in an undertone. The teens were already making their way up to the register.

“Receipt?”

“No thank you.” They could be right behind her now. Had they seen? Did they know?

But when she turned around with the bag clutched tightly in her right hand, the pair were busy browsing magazines. There wasn’t anything for her to be fearful or ashamed of. She made her way calmly towards the door.

“Well, hope you get the result you want,” the cashier called to her. The teenagers paused in their conversation. She could imagine them looking up, curious and confused. Mortified, Laurel ducked her head back down and left without a backwards glance.

She had to fight herself not to simply run the entire way back or to constantly check that the double bags were not still somehow see-through. Nobody out here on the streets could possibly know what she currently held. They had no idea, and they never would. Nobody needed to know except her, and only just to check. Then she could throw it away, bury it deep in the trash—assuming the result was negative, that was.

And if it wasn’t?

Laurel was breathing heavily by the time she shut first the apartment and then her bedroom door behind herself. The door to the bathroom still stood open, the light on. She’d forgotten to switch it off on her way out. Yet she couldn’t bring herself to re-enter it, not yet. A part of her couldn’t believe what she planned to do, that it could even be necessary. A scare like this, it wasn’t supposed to be her.

She took the box out again, turning it over in her fingers. There was no use continuing to stare at it, she knew. Maybe this wasn’t the answer, maybe she really was sick and needed to see a doctor and was just wasting time. Whatever the result was, opening this box and taking the test would make it real. Was she ready for it?

It wasn’t as if she’d ever been ready for any other development in her life. Laurel pushed off the door she’d been leaning against and took the test with her into the bathroom.

It was the longest several minutes of her life, pacing across the small, cramped space, her heart continuing to hammer away. What was it going to say? What was she hoping for, what result did she want? Her mind chased itself around in circles until she couldn’t stand it and finally snatched the test up from where she’d laid it on the sink to wait.

Two lines.

The test slipped from her fingers, clattering to the floor. Positive. It was positive. She was positive. She was pregnant.

Laurel sat hard on the lip of the bathtub. There seemed to be no other prevailing emotion than shock. She was pregnant. One of her hands came up to rest on the smooth expanse of her stomach. It didn’t feel as though anything was there, and yet the proof rested not two feet away from her that there was something in there. The beginning of a someone.

“Oh God.” Her mind, normally racing trying to keep track of her work, her family and friends, was drawing a distressing blank. Nothing in her life had prepared her for this, and wasn’t that so typical? For all she tried to be careful, to plan ahead, she could never resist the temptation to just throw all caution to the wind. Now it had landed her in bigger trouble than ever.

Though not just her. It took two, after all.

Oliver. Her head dropped into her hands. As if the mess of their relationship could get any worse. How could she possibly come to him with this? Going by his current behavior they’d be lucky to get him back in ten years if he heard this kind of news.

He’d left her. That should probably tell her what his possible desire to be involved in something like this should be, but...a part of her, that part that could never quite give up on Oliver Jonas Queen no matter how many people told her she was crazy for it, reminded her he didn’t have the full story. He couldn’t know that right now she was pregnant. That right now they were pregnant. If she was going to tell anyone right away, she wanted it to be him.

She needed to see him, speak to him at least. This changed everything. His leaving, her guilt for Tommy’s sacrifice. Things that had seemed insurmountable only a day ago felt like excuses rather than reasons to remain apart.

The only person she knew who might possibly be able to reach him was Thea. Laurel rose to her feet and found herself retracing her steps out of the apartment moments later. There really wasn’t any time to lose with this hanging over her.

She sent a text ahead and by the time she reached the lobby had gotten a reply back asking her to meet at the Verdant. She’d had no idea the place was staying open without Oliver to run it. In fact she hadn’t been back there since before the earthquake.

Laurel took a route that wouldn’t lead her past where Joanna and the others would be set up for the day, and by the time she arrived at the club the sun was nearly right overhead. Her stomach was grumbling, too, and she touched it again before moving her hand quickly away. How obvious could she be? Shaking her head, Laurel took a moment to compose herself before entering the building.

“Hey.”

Thea looked up from the stack of papers she was studying, her face breaking into a smile. “Hey!”

“Looks like you’re just about ready to reopen for business,” Laurel remarked with a glance around the place. A few employees were scattered about seemingly rearranging seating and the like, Roy Harper among them she noticed.

“Yeah, well, I figured it beat sitting around at home,” the younger girl told her, and Laurel nodded. She could relate to that need to keep moving, to throw herself into something and ignore her own problems. “Not to mention there’s no telling if my trust fund let alone my parents’ company will still be standing in a year.”

“Very smart.”

If she wasn’t mistaken, Thea preened slightly at the compliment. For how quickly she was being forced to grow up by her family’s actions, she was still so young. “Thanks. So, what brings you around?”

“I needed to ask you something,” she hedged. “It’s about Ollie, actually.” That was all she could trust herself to say. A part of her marvelled that Thea could have no idea what was happening right now, the same as her only hours ago. “I was wondering when he was planning to come home.”

“How should I know?”

Laurel’s hopeful smile faded. “You mean he hasn’t been in touch?”

Thea snorted. “He left me a note saying he went on a ski trip in Europe. Didn’t even ask if I wanted to get the hell out of here, too.”

Laurel hesitated a moment before asking, “Would you have wanted to?”

Thea shrugged. “It’s not like I’m exactly popular right now. But I got the club.”

“Just the club?”

Laurel bit back a smile as she turned to see Roy look up from polishing one of the tables.

Thea made a face at him. “You’re an employee of the club. And my boyfriend.”

“Thanks, boss,” Roy remarked dryly.

Thea was rolling her eyes as she shooed him further out of earshot before returning her attention to Laurel. “You want a drink? It’s on the house,” she offered, already reaching for a glass.

“No!” Laurel winced at the sharpness in her tone. “No I—I can’t.” She was pregnant, had been for at least a month...and she’d been drinking up to now, hadn’t she?

The younger woman didn’t seem too fazed. “Okay. Listen, I have no idea if he’s reading them, but I’ve been sending anything I want to say to his email. That’s your best bet. I’ll let you know if I hear from him, but right now I’m as in the dark about what Ollie’s up to as you are. Figures I just got used to him being back right before he disappears again,” she muttered to the bartop.

“I’m sure he’ll be home soon, Thea,” she attempted to assure her, though as distracted with worry as she was she didn’t know how sincere it came across. How much had she had to drink since she could have gotten pregnant? More than usual, if she was being honest with herself. What if it had affected the baby? What if there was something wrong? “I have to go. Good luck with the opening.”

“Thanks.”

The doorman seemed bemused as she passed him for the fourth time that day, and Laurel wasn’t sure if her attempt at a smile held up at all. She was too busy considering what she wanted to say. How did she break this kind of news over an email?

Or should she? Laurel wasn’t sure if it was fear or selfishness that had her wanting to make sure she could tell Oliver in person. She wanted to be able to see his reaction, know what he thought, talk to him about this like they should.

It took a few attempts, deletions, and rewordings, but she ended up with:

Ollie,

Thea told me you’re taking some time to yourself after everything that’s happened. I guess you needed the space. Maybe we all do.

But things have changed. I found something out and I have to talk to you about it. I know you feel like you can’t be in Starling right now, but this is important. I can’t do this without you.

Please write back when you can.

Love always,

Laurel

She held her breath as she hit send and stared at the little box that popped up saying her message had been delivered. Laurel wondered what time it was over in whatever ski lodge Oliver was staying in, when she might hear back. She didn’t know how long she could wait on this before needing to speak with someone.

She took her phone and dialled the number that would always come first in her mind, her thumb hovering over the call button.

But...could she tell her dad? He’d always dreaded something like this happening. Why would he be happy? He’d more likely be the opposite. He’d be furious at Oliver, there was no question of that. And her? She was an unmarried woman who’d been dating another man until shortly before getting pregnant by her ex.

Shame. Fear. Humiliation. Those were the reactions he would have. She could picture the ‘I told you so’ falling from his lips as clear as if he was standing in front of her, could see his hunched form at the bar grumbling into his drink epithets about Queen and his own gold-digger daughter. Laurel squeezed her eyes shut, willing the images away, and the phone slipped from her fingers.

She shouldn’t bother him anyway, she tried to tell herself. Her father was already dealing with so much, what with his demotion. God, this kind of blow to his reputation, it’d probably shatter what little respect he had left at the precinct.

What about her reputation?

She wasn’t exactly an unknown in the media thanks to the high-profile businessmen she’d gone after for her clients. Her various tangles with both the Queen family and the Hood didn’t help either. Was she the kind of person who would end up in a tabloid over a scandal like this? She didn’t want that for herself or a baby.

As selfish as it was, getting the hell out of here sounded like a great plan at the moment. At least until she’d figured out what she was doing. If Oliver replied by the end of the day, she’d need money to go and meet him wherever he’d holed up halfway around the world. If he didn’t...well, then she’d definitely need money.

The bank was about to close, so she’d have to go tomorrow or the next day. How much was she safe in taking out? She’d need money for plane tickets, food, shelter, possibly a visit to a doctor or some kind of women’s clinic. Bitterly, she recalled that with Rebecca Merlyn’s clinic closed, there wasn’t any such place she could go in Starling anyway. The nearest Planned Parenthood was at least a city over, so she’d need to be going out of town for a few days at least regardless.

Laurel found herself refreshing her inbox constantly over the rest of the day and the next, though it brought her nothing but the odd bit of junk mail. Oliver either hadn’t read her email or didn’t want to respond. She didn’t know which was worse.

But there was a way she could make sure which it was. She opened up a new message and typed the equivalent of an SOS:

Please Ollie, I’m running out of time.

If he could read that and not answer, he wasn’t the man she’d thought he was at all.

Say Oliver didn’t respond. Say he never responded. How long was she willing to wait? How long could she wait to make a decision?

The reasons against keeping it were distressingly numerous. She was on her own. She didn’t have any prospects for future employment as a pregnant woman. She couldn’t know when or what kind of support Oliver would be willing to give—not that her pride would ever let her accept his money. She wasn’t even sure if she could be a good mother, with or without the means.

But after everything in her life that she’d had taken away from her...would she be able to survive losing something like this?

Laurel rolled onto her side, wrapping her arms around herself.

Thea had said she wasn’t popular in Starling these days. Laurel doubted anyone related to the Queens would be. People were angry, and whether or not it was justified didn’t seem to matter. They’d hate her baby.

Was it even safe to keep it, if that’s the sort of life it would have? The life it would have in Starling, anyway. Laurel had never thought of leaving the city permanently. It had been her home, her one constant when everything and everyone else in her life left her. How could she even think of going?

But this couldn’t just be about her and her wants or needs anymore. Maybe she couldn’t save a city. Maybe she wasn’t strong enough to fight an army like Joanna had tried to warn her. But there was one person now whose life rested literally in her hands and her hands alone. She had to protect it.

Laurel pushed herself up to sitting, looking around the darkened room. “I can’t stay here.”

She was at the bank first thing the next morning, having barely slept the night before. Laurel scanned the available tellers, hoping she’d come on the right day...there!

She approached one teller in particular. “Mr. Ricci!”

“Ah, Miss Lance! Good morning!”

She had gotten to know the balding man quite well during the proceedings she’d guided his son through to prove him innocent of an armed robbery. If anyone at Starling National would be willing to do her a favor, it was him, and that was precisely what Laurel had been counting on.

“So good to see you!” The man was saying. “Now, what can I do for you today?”

“I wanted to make a withdrawal.”

“Of course. For how much?”

“Five thousand dollars?” She couldn’t help the slight uptick in her voice at the end.

The man’s eyes went wide. “That is quite a sum. I’m not sure…”

Laurel knew she had to think fast. “I’m treating myself to a bit of a vacation, and I want to take out the money so I budget myself. That’s all I’m letting myself spend.”

He nodded, clearly mulling it over. “Lots of people are trying to get away these days. But if anyone deserves a vacation, it is you. Alright, come with me, and we will get it all taken care of.”

Laurel did not have to fake her gratitude at all. “Thank you so much, Mr. Ricci.”

She stayed long enough chatting at the bank so as not to seem suspicious. It wouldn’t be good if it looked like she was about to make a run for it.

Once finally home, Laurel checked her email again. Nothing. Oliver wasn’t there.

If she stayed any longer, sooner or later she would have to face either Joanna or her father. Whether she went into work or took another sick day, they’d know something was wrong. If she didn’t want to involve anyone else, she had to be on a train out of the city by tonight.

A bizarre sort of calm seemed to settle over her — or perhaps she was just teetering on the edge of a complete breakdown — but Laurel took out her scarcely-used suitcase and began pulling things out of her closet. Comfortable, baggier clothes were prioritized; she’d have no need for dresses or pantsuits while hiding out to have a baby, and eventually she wouldn’t be able to fit them anyway. Toiletries were placed in a smaller case before being tucked away as well, and looking around the bathroom reminded her to get rid of her trash and the pregnancy test. She was sure her father would case her apartment all on his own if he had to, once he realized she was gone.

Laurel paused at her desk, pulling a notepad towards her. Should she leave him a message not to worry? Explain that she had to go away for a while? It’d probably only make him worry more and be that much more determined to find her. And it wasn’t as though she could give him a proper explanation or one that would make him happy with her. Better to leave him with what little good opinion he might have left of her.

She checked the time and knew she needed to get moving. With her phone wedged between her ear and shoulder, she placed a call down to the lobby.

“Hi, Mr. Powell, it’s Laurel. Would you mind calling a cab for me? I’m a little behind on packing.”

“Of course. When should it arrive?”

“Twenty minutes would be perfect. Thank you so much.”

She forced her suitcase closed and leaned heavily on it as she zipped it back up. Laurel left her phone on her bedside table and went to her front door. She turned back for one last look at the home she’d made for herself over many long, trying years. It seemed hard to believe she was about to leave it behind. But it was the only way.

Down in the lobby, Mr. Powell was waiting. “I can help you with that,” the doorman offered, taking a hold of her suitcase to stow in the trunk of the cab pulled up to the curb.

“Thank you.” She just barely bit back a goodbye. Instead, Laurel slid into the passenger seat.

“Where to?”

“The train station, please.”

Moments later, they were driving off and she watched as her apartment disappeared in the side view mirror.

“Going on vacation?” Her driver asked.

Laurel felt a wan smile lift the corners of her mouth. “Something like that.”

Four months ago

Laurel paced the scant floor space between the bed and the wall, her mind chasing itself around in similar circles.

She was running low on cash. Not enough for it to be an emergency yet, but even cheap motels like this one she was staying in started to add up night after night.

The minute she went to withdraw more funds she was sure her father would be on her trail. If he still had his detective’s badge she doubted she’d have made it this long without him finding her. And if he found her like this...it just wasn’t thinkable.

Laurel placed a hand over her stomach, which was decidedly firmer than it had been months ago before all this. Before she’d hatched a crazy plan to run away with a baby she didn’t even have enough money to get another checkup for let alone take care of once it was born.

She couldn’t do this on her own, but she had no one. By keeping an eye on any Starling news she could tell Oliver was still God knew where. Her father had enough of his own troubles, if he’d even want to help her after all the worry she must have caused him. Thea was much too young for her to depend on for this. She had nothing else that resembled family.

Well, that wasn’t entirely true. Her mother was just a short train ride away in Central, after all.

Of all people, was she really considering going to her mother? Maybe things were better between them than they had been, but nearly five years of no contact was a lot to forget.

But what other options did she have?

Laurel checked out of the motel that morning and headed for the nearest train station. She purchased another ticket in cash, this time to Central, and waited to board.

The entire journey she was a nervous wreck, thinking up all the many ways this could and would go wrong. It took everything in her to actually leave the Central City train station and not simply hop a second train out of there. From there she splurged a little on a taxi cab as she only had an address and no way of knowing how to get to her mother’s house just on the edge of the suburbs. Laurel paid the driver and got out, pulling her suitcase along behind her as she came up the walk for the very first time.

It was a one-level building, small without seeming too cramped. There was a tree in the yard and a couple different kinds of flowers that had mostly wilted, though they couldn’t hold her interest for long.

She drew in a deep breath, her hand resting just inches from the door. Could she really do this? She didn’t have many options, true, but what would her mother say? What if she refused to help her?

There was no way of knowing until it happened. She rapped on the door and then planted her feet firmly on the doorstep. The wait wasn’t very long, and soon enough she was once again face to face with her mother.

The older woman’s eyes went wide at the sight of her. “Laurel!”

She tried not to cringe as she offered a, “Hi, Mom.”

The next thing she knew, Laurel was being pulled over the threshold and into the older woman’s arms. It was so unfamiliar a sensation to her that she couldn’t help standing there stiffly for a moment before remembering to move her arms to reciprocate.

“Oh, thank goodness!” She felt lips against her cheek and then her mom was taking great gasps of air as she held her tightly. “Oh, Laurel!”

She found herself being pulled even further inside and led into a living room. Her mother’s home for the last six years, and she was just seeing it for the first time. There was a picture of both her and Sara on one of the end tables next to the couch her mom guided her to sit on. Laurel wasn’t sure how to feel about that.

“Does Quentin know you’re safe?”

Her gaze dropped to the rug.“He doesn’t even know I’m here.”

“What? Why haven’t you told him?” Her mom reached into her pocket. “Did you need a phone? Let me call him—”

“No! No, mom, please don’t call him,” she begged.

“He’s been worried sick, honey,” her mother told her, and something twisted painfully in Laurel’s gut. “Your father loves you.”

“He won’t- he won’t love me if he finds out,” she managed around the lump rising in her throat. “He’ll hate me. If he doesn’t already—when he drinks he says things, he blames me for Sara getting on the boat, and then he says he didn’t mean it, but he would this time. He already thinks I’m a—you don’t know what it’s been like, you left.”

“Alright, alright, I’m not calling.” Her mother placed the phone down and instead knelt in front of her. “Tell me what’s happened. Are you in some kind of trouble?”

Laurel shook her head, wiping furiously at the tears that continued to spill over. This wasn’t really the plan. But her mother was here and listening, actually listening to her. And it had been so long since she could truly talk to someone she knew.

A tremulous smile rose to her face. “I’m pregnant.”

Her mother’s eyes went wide before darting to her stomach. She wasn’t showing yet, which was normal or so the scant reading material she’d been able to get her hands on said.

“Oh, Laurel.”

Her smile fell just as quickly as it had come. “I know.”

“I can’t imagine, and with Tommy—”

A choked sob left Laurel, and she shook her head as her eyes squeezed shut in shame. “It’s not Tommy’s.”

“Then who—? Oh, honey.” For the second time that night, her mom reached out and hugged her. Laurel held on tight this time, needing the comfort, needing the release.

“I know. I know it looks bad. We’d broken up, and then Oliver told me he still loved me, and I- I just didn’t think.” She sniffed loudly and swiped at her nose. “God, mom, I’m sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry.”

Laurel froze, and her mother pulled back slowly, her hands trailing down Laurel’s shoulders to rest on her arms.

“I know I haven’t been a very good mother to you — or a mother at all.” Her mom looked down, not seeming able to meet her gaze. “You should have felt able to come to your father or I the minute you found out, and if you didn’t I only have myself to blame.” She looked up again, and Laurel was shocked to see tears in her eyes. “I was so consumed with grief from losing Sara that I didn’t realize I was losing you, too. And I don’t know how I can make that up to you.”

Laurel found it nearly impossible to speak around the lump in her throat. “That’s okay, mom. It’s okay.”

“Tell me what you need. Whatever you need.”

She was rapidly becoming overwhelmed. “I- I was just hoping to stay for a week, maybe two? I need to find somewhere to work or I’m gonna run out of money, and I—”

Her mother shook her head. “You’ll stay here, but for as long as you need. Let me do what I should have been doing for you. You take care of the baby.” She rose up to place a kiss on the top of Laurel’s forehead. “I’ll look after the rest.”

Somehow, despite everything that had happened in her life so far, this was the moment she really felt she was dreaming.

Two months ago

Laurel had fallen into something of a routine. Wake up, eat with her mother, head out for a walk around the neighborhood or do some exercises at home while her mom left to teach. Even if her stomach was slowly beginning to grow didn’t mean she had to totally let herself go, and it wasn’t as though she had much else to do apart from the occasional check up on the baby. Then she read up on the news in both Central and Starling or picked up one of the paperbacks lying around the house.

Probably the strangest adjustment was just how much time she and her mother spent together now. They got dinner or Laurel would attempt to fix something that would then need to be salvaged once her mom got home from the University, on weekends they watched movies, and rather than a partner it was her mom that accompanied her to the classes on breathing and other what-to-know-about-expecting-and-parenting techniques. It was...nice.

These days, sometimes Laurel had the night to herself if her mom was out on a date, though she had yet to meet the boyfriend. The first few weeks, her mother had come straight home from classes and always seemed relieved to find Laurel still there. She hadn’t brought up contacting her dad again yet either, which she suspected was out of fear that Laurel might run for it. She couldn’t really say whether or not it was warranted.

It still felt unreal how well her mother had taken the news, and she didn’t know if she could hope for the same from her father. It didn’t stop the guilt from churning on the few occasions her parents talked, and her mother had to lie over the phone that she still hadn’t seen her. Yet still she relied on her mom’s silence.

Of course just when she’d gotten settled, everything changed again.

“Billionaire and son of the woman accused of conspiring to commit mass murder, Oliver Queen, has returned to his hometown and in just the nick of time. With Stellmoor International poised to buy the majority of shares in Queen Consolidated, the Queen heir will need to hope for another miracle not unlike his rescue from an island in the North China sea one year ago.”

“Will you tell him?” Her mom stood with her arms braced on the kitchen counter, eyes on the television.

“I don’t know.” It had been so long, she’d simply begun to assume none of them would ever hear from Oliver again. Now he was back and totally unaware of the plight she was in. Could she even hope he’d want to be involved at this stage?

He had a sense of duty to family, that was true. Laurel wasn’t sure if this counted. Did an accident borne out of a moment of passion warrant his concern? Did Laurel?

“Maybe I should let him get settled back in first?”

Her mother shrugged, leaving the choice up to her.

The next forty-eight hours saw an attack at Queen Consolidated, Thea kidnapped and saved by the Hood who made a surprise return, and Oliver only barely acquiring a co-ownership of his family’s company. And it only seemed to grow worse from there. Laurel watched in horror the next week as Alderman Sebastian Blood of the Glades whipped up an angry mob to swarm Oliver’s car, one member of the crowd smashing a window with a thrown brick.

“It’s just not safe, is it?” She asked her mother as she paced back and forth behind the couch. “And even if it was, Oliver’s just managed to hold onto the company, Mrs. Queen’s trial is coming up...their family doesn’t need a scandal like this.” Laurel glanced down at the bulge in her stomach her old Starling U hoodie wasn’t quite able to hide anymore. “And I couldn’t do that to the baby.”

“As much as I think he at least ought to know, I can’t help but agree. Anyone connected with the Queens right now seems to be in danger.” Her mother was frowning, but clearly resigned. “Keeping the baby safe is your first priority, Laurel. Maybe someday things will calm down, but...Oliver will have to understand.”

Laurel spent the next week restless and unhappy. Decided as she was, now more than ever she missed her home and the people there. In an ideal world, she could be picking out baby names with Oliver, mediating lunch with her dad, getting Thea’s advice on how to decorate a nursery...but ideal was the last way to describe her world.

Maybe it could be worth it. She’d been in danger plenty of times over the last year and always come out of it. Maybe if she let herself try, it could work.

Of course, one evening the news served a cruel reminder of just how unsafe Starling currently was.

“Serial killer Barton Mathis, also called the Dollmaker, broke his usual pattern tonight by abducting Officer Quentin Lance. Lance was responsible for Mathis’ incarceration just five years ago, and police are considering this an act of revenge.”

“Oh, Quentin.” Her mother was watching with a hand over her mouth and wide eyes.

“I should be there. God, mom, what have I been doing?” All this time, letting her fear over her father’s reaction keep her from spending time with him. What if that time had run out? What if she’d never get to tell him, never get to make things right?

She nearly had her suitcase half-packed when her mother cried out from the main room, “Laurel! Laurel, they’re saying he’s been found!”

She dropped the shirt she’d been folding and rushed back in front of the television. Early reports were indicating some involvement from the Hood, and she found herself once again unaccountably grateful for his existence, whoever he was.

“Are they saying what condition dad’s in?”

“Not yet.”

She had to know. With trembling fingers, she took out the phone her mother had gotten her when she’d started staying here.

“Laurel?” Her mother asked.

“Oliver will know if dad’s okay,” she said quietly, more to herself than anything. “I can ask him, and then maybe- maybe we can talk. I...I don’t want something bad to happen to one of them without them knowing.”

She’d entered the last digit and now hit the call button, waiting with her breath held as it rang.

Just when she was thinking he wouldn’t pick up, he did. “Hello?”

Her mind went completely blank at the sound of his voice, and Laurel couldn’t think of what to say.

“Hello?” Oliver repeated, a bit more tersely this time. “Is anybody—”

He’d stopped, and she didn’t know why. She knew she should speak, but her voice still wouldn’t come.

And then Oliver said one word. “Laurel?”

Her breath hitched. How? How could he possibly know?

And yet on the other end of the line, Oliver only sounded more certain of himself as he tried again, “Laurel, please, if—”

She ripped the phone from her ear, mashing the end call button, just barely catching his cry of “—wait!”

“Honey?” Her mom was watching her with evident concern.

“I—I just—” It felt like her throat was closing up, and the phone fell from her fingers as she dropped her head into her hands.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Her mother said, sitting next to her on the couch and wrapping her arms around her.

“How do I even tell him, mom? How do I tell him now?”

Her mother held her through her tears over the absolute mess she’d made of things.

Two hours ago

Laurel stood in line at the post office shifting her weight from foot to foot, and not only because they were tired of carrying her weight. Part of her still wanted to turn around and walk right out, but she’d made it this far.

The little box she held kept drawing her eyes, and she’d lost track of how many times she’d read the address she’d written on the side. The name on that address in particular.

Quentin Lance

After many long, late night talks with her mother, she’d finally made the decision to reach out. The baby was due in just under two months, and while she still couldn’t work up the nerve to go back to Starling City herself, it was long past time for her to face up to her actions. At least to her father. It hadn’t been fair to keep this from him, no matter what he thought of her as a result. Whether he chose to shut her out of his life permanently was his choice, but at the least he would know she was okay. As okay as she could be, all things considered.

She stepped up to the next available counter. “Hi, how are you?”

“Fine, thank you. And you?” The post office worker rattled off in a bored tone.

“Fine, thanks. How much is it to make sure it arrives before Christmas?”

“Well, we’ve got rates for priority or expedited shipping, overnight—”

“I’ll take overnight,” Laurel decided. Now that she was here and really doing this it seemed silly to wait any longer. Either her dad would forgive her or he wouldn’t, but it was the holidays, and this was the best she could give him.

Her abruptness caused a blink from the woman behind the counter, and she actually seemed to look at Laurel properly for the first time.

“Alright, press that button on the screen,” the woman told her. She handed over the money next and waited for her change.

“You have a good holiday.”

“Thanks, you too,” said Laurel.

“Is the little one coming before or after?”

She found herself smiling in spite of her nerves. “After. I’m still two months from my due date.”

“Well, you take care now. And good luck!”

Laurel left the counter and the package behind, not necessarily feeling any better about it but knowing it was out of her hands now. She’d just have to see what happened once her dad received it.

A man held the door open for her as she exited the post office, and Laurel thanked him before turning to find a bench just outside to sit on until her mom’s class let out that evening and she could pick her up. She didn’t mind waiting. It was plenty warm out for December.

As the time dragged on, however, storm clouds began to gather, causing the skies to darken even quicker than usual. She moved back inside for a time and made a stop in the restroom, but a glance at her watch showed she’d be forced out again soon enough.

“You got a ride home?”

Laurel jumped, but it was only the woman who had helped her at the counter. She was zipping up a raincoat and had an umbrella.

“Should be on its way,” Laurel answered.

“Alright, you have a good night then. Shame we’re getting rain like this instead of snow for the holidays.”

“Yeah.” Laurel watched the woman head out to her car, then exited the post office before one of the other workers felt they had to ask her to leave. The bench was still unoccupied so she reclaimed it and settled in to wait again and worry about the package and her father.

Even if it didn’t look or feel much like Christmas, she’d just have to hope for a miracle, because that was what it was going to take for this family of hers to come back together.

But it wasn’t a miracle that struck only an hour later.