#I added bitches as a tag in case anyone has it blocked and doesn’t want to see this meme

[dinosaurwalrus]

i really enjoy using the phrase "this fucks" as a compliment at every available opportunity because it's just kind of objectively funny to say "this thing is so good it gets bitches"

[scattered-winter]

wip wednesday <3

tagged by @moonlightbuckleys MWAH MWAH <3 I couldn't decide which dc au snippet to post so uh . i gave y'all more than one. sorry <- not sorry

Buck stretches his arms over his head, feeling his spine crack and pop. The gangbangers are unconscious and piled in the alleyway below, ankles and wrists bound by a few well-placed trap arrows, and Green Lantern is just touching down onto the roof beside Buck after knocking out the last of them and adding him to the pile.

“Thanks for the assist, GL,” Buck says, reaching a hand up for a high five. Green Lantern regards him for a moment, lips tugged into an amused smile, before indulging.

“It looked like you needed it.” The continued upward tilt of his lips betrays him, and Buck scoffs, pretending to be offended.

“Keep talking like that and I’ll use you as target practice.”

Green Lantern just laughs. Buck likes his laugh. It has a way of spreading across his face like spilled ink, lighting him up in an intoxicating way that rivaled the light of his ring. Buck knows every one of his expressions better than he knows his own reflection, despite never once seeing the guy’s face.

“See you next time?” Green Lantern asks after regaining control, a smile still tugging at the corners of his mouth. His ring is blooming with light, preparing to take off.

Almost without thinking, Buck reaches out and lays a hand on his wrist. “Wait. The sun’s coming up. Wanna get breakfast?”

Immediately, he wants to kick himself. Meeting up for a meal afterward is his tradition with Hen and Chim after they team up; a time for them to hang out without thugs with guns or aliens getting in the way. A time for them to be Buck, Hen, and Chim, not Sentinel, Hecate, and Shockwave.

Green Lantern never goes to the post-beatdown meetups. Because nobody in the group knows his secret identity, and he’s intent on keeping it that way.

Not that Buck minds. It's none of his business.

Even if he lays awake at night wondering. What he looks like. Where he lives. What color his eyes are. He's Buck’s best friend and Buck doesn’t even know his name.

The invitation pops out of his mouth almost before he realizes it; he’s asked before, not expecting an answer, and has been turned down every time. Which is why Buck is so surprised when Green Lantern shrugs and says, “Only if I choose the place.”

Which is how they end up sitting across from each other at a small cafe a few blocks down from where they’d just spent the last hour cleaning house. Cop cars shoot past outside the windows, on their way to clean up the mess they’d left. But Buck can only focus on the man sitting across from him.

He's wearing a large pair of dark sunglasses and a baseball cap that hides the top half of his face from view, but if Buck looks closely enough, he can just see the faint outline of lashes through the dark lens.

They're both in civvies; Buck in a hoodie and jeans, quiver and bow packed away in a guitar case resting in the chair next to him. Green Lantern is in a simple t-shirt and jeans, a black watch around his right wrist, the emerald ring gleaming on his left middle finger.

He looks…normal. Even the ring is…duller, somehow. More ordinary. As if it knew they're trying to blend in.

Buck is trying not to stare too much. Lantern is defensive of his identity, more so than anyone else on the team, and Buck doesn’t want to scare him off.

But Lantern’s eyebrows rise above his glasses, and he says, not unkindly, “You’re staring.”

Buck shakes himself, tears his eyes away. “Sorry. I, uh. I’m not used to you looking so. You know.”

“Normal?” Lantern finishes, and Buck could tell from the way he's sitting, the gentle upturn of his lips, that he hasn’t been scared off at all. “Says the guy carrying a weapon around in a guitar case.”

“Not all of us have magic rings,” Buck points out crossly, with a pointed look at Lantern’s hand.

Lantern waves his hand in a fair enough gesture.

more gay ppl. <3 (im a BITCH for secret identities ok.. and i know u are too..)

“So, why are you so secretive, anyway?” It's only because they've been sitting and talking for nearly an hour that Buck feels confident enough to ask. “I mean, you’ve been with us for a while now. Don’t you trust us?” Don’t you trust me?

For a moment he thinks Lantern will change the subject, but instead his throat bobs in a swallow, and he says, “I have a kid.”

It's so unexpected that Buck finds himself leaning back. “Wait, what?”

Lantern slightly tilts his head at him, the way he always does when he's confused. Like a puppy. “What did you think my reason was?”

Buck shrugs. “I don’t know,” he admits. “I just…wasn’t expecting that, is all. You don’t look that old.”

Lantern sighs, nods. “Yeah. I was pretty young when he came along.” His finger is moving on the table, tracing designs into the wood. “You know how the job is,” he says softly. “You make enemies everywhere. And I just…I know my kid would be the first person they’d go to in order to get at me, and I can’t let that happen.”

He hesitates, looks up, at Buck’s face. “So it’s not that I don’t trust you with my identity. It’s just…”

“I get it,” Buck says softly. “You’re protecting your kid.”

Lantern nods. “Yeah.”

AND ALSO. THIRTEEN ANGST. BECAUSE HE'S JUST MY LITTLE GUY. <3

Buck turns, sees the red beam of light hurtling right toward Eddie. He's moving, almost before his mind can process what's happening, but he knows he won't make it in time.

But someone else does.

Thirteen lowers his shoulder and drives his body into Eddie's, sending him tumbling away over the rough ground. A split second later, the fiery energy beam sends Thirteen flying. He bounces on the ground once, twice, before coming to a stop in the shallow trench his body has carved into the dirt.

Eddie's on his feet in seconds, expression stunned, but his ring blooms with green light to push the Red Lanterns back. Buck hesitates a moment, glances between his team, fighting to suppress the attack, and Thirteen, crumpled on the ground like a ragdoll. Smoke curls from his body, and he isn't moving.

With a groan, Buck turns and runs, dropping to his knees at Thirteen's side. A moment later, the air in front of him warps and shimmers, and Hen appears, the glowing gold ankh burning afterimages into Buck's vision even as it fades and she drops to her knees beside Thirteen.

She rolls him over and goes to check his pulse, but Thirteen's eyes flutter open and he drags in a ragged breath that breaks off into a strangled groan.

Hen's hand drops to rummage in the pouch at her hip, but Thirteen's hand curls around her wrist and she pauses.

His eyes are glazed over with pain, but he tilts his head toward her and rasps, "Don't bother."

Hen's expression tightens. "Why the hell not?"

Thirteen shudders, expression tightening with pain, before wheezing out, "You'd be doing everyone a favor, sweetheart."

Even lying on the ground half-dead, he manages to be just as obnoxiously condescending as always. And Hen isn't having it.

"Maybe I would be," she says, tugging her wrist out of his grip and going for her supplies once more. "But that isn't for either of us to decide. You've still got a part to play in all this, and I'm not just gonna sit back and let you die, B—"

She cuts herself off, but Buck and Thirteen had both caught the slip. Thirteen's face twists briefly—in disgust for being lumped in with Buck, or in long-festering grief, or perhaps it was simply from the pain of taking a Lantern energy blast head-on.

Buck tries to meet Hen's eyes, but she's focusing entirely on Thirteen at the moment. "You're not dying," she says firmly, pulling a handful of charms from her pouch, "and you're definitely not going out like some kind of martyr."

Thirteen just lets his eyes flutter shut. "Thank you, sweetheart."

Despite the condescending nickname, there's no bite behind the words, and Hen's expression tightens once more before her eyes begin to glow and she starts chanting a spell.

I'd apologize for dropping so much of this au except. I'm not really sorry. <3

tagging: @soleadita @ anyone else who wants to !! go wild go nuts go crazy etc

[noladyme]

Chess. Chapter 8.

Y/N never hurt anyone who didn’t deserve it. She only took what she needed, or what she felt others needed. She’d stayed out of sight for a long time, avoiding anything that could get her in to too much trouble. But for some reason Rick Flag shows up in her life, and in an instant, everything changes.

TW: Language, sexual themes, harassment, injuries. Rated M.

(Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list.)

“Oh yes… Oh God, yes!”.

Ricks nails bore into my skin, scratching: and leaving red and white traces in their wake.

“Please don’t stop”, I gasped.

Looking up at me, he rearranged his body, giving him better access to his target,

I kicked my leg, moaning.

“Lie still”, he mumbled, and used his free hand to hold the leg down.

“Mhmm”, I responded, and sighed.

“You’re enjoying this too much”, Rick said, and pulled his fingers out from under the bandage on my foot.

I whimpered.

“No… please”, I said, grabbing his hand, and pushing it back towards my ankle. “You have no idea how itchy that thing is!”. He chuckled at me.

“Maybe next time, don’t let Harley cover your foot in glitter body lotion, before she wraps it up”.

“She said it was antibacterial. And I thought she was supposed to be a doctor”.

“Of psychiatry”, he smiled.

“Right”, I remembered. “Ironic”.

He laid back, putting his head on the pillow. I rolled over, a piece of paper sticking to my sweaty thigh.

Putting his arm behind my head, I snuggled up to him; our fingers entangled on his chest.

“Flag…”, I began.

“Rick”, he interrupted.

“Rick”, I smirked. “Rick with the amazing dick”.

“That’s… terrible”, he laughed, pulled me in and kissed my forehead. Our legs entwined. “What were you gonna say?”.

“What happens now?”, I asked.

“I don’t know. You don’t belong out there with them… us”, he finished.

“I think I do”, I said, turning my face to look at him. His eyes darkened. “Look; I’m a criminal. I’ve done things, I wish I hadn’t”.

“We all have”, he said quietly. I continued.

“But here, I can do something with this thing that was put on me. I can use it to help people like the ones we saved today”.

Rick sighed.

“That’s great, in theory”, he said.

“What do you mean?”, I wondered.

He looked uncomfortable for a second, pulled his arm out from behind my head, and sat up. I stroked my fingers up and down his back as he spoke.

“Can I say something, without you smacking me across the face again?”, he asked. I rolled my eyes in response. “You’re rash, you take unnecessary risks…”. I interrupted.

“Just like every other person in the squad!”.

“…and you’re not as strong as you think”, he finished.

I sat up. “I was strong enough to give you a run for your money, back when we were wrestling in that alley”, I said, and kissed his shoulder.

He turned to face me, and with a hand on my waist, he pushed me back down on the bed, and got on top of me.

“Maybe I was just enjoying rubbing up against you”, he breathed; and began to place small kisses down my neck.

“Are you trying to distract me?”, I laughed, and struggled against his grip. He chuckled against my neck, and started trailing his hand down my side, placing it on my buttcheek.

“What are you doing?”, I giggled.

“Checking out the asset”, he whispered into my ear, and squeezed my cheek. I squealed and laughed.

His phone buzzed in his pants pocket on the floor. He reached to pull it out; and the display read A. Waller.

“Flag”, he answered, and put a finger to his lips, hushing me.

“You heard. Yes… I know…”. He put his feet on the floor, and looked over his shoulder at me for a second.

“No, that’s not… No. Waller… Wall… Amanda! It’s too soon!”, he said in to the phone. He sighed.

“Yes, I know. I understand. Yeah… see you then”. He hung up. “Bitch!”. He threw the phone across the bed.

“Back to work?”, I asked, sitting up.

He ran his hand down his face, and turned halfway towards me.

“Waller… is coming here, to brief you all personally”.

“What does that mean?”, I asked, worried.

“I don’t know all the details, but it’s probably not good”. He turned all the way towards me, and took my hand, placing it on his cheek.

“There are things I can’t tell you. Not because I don’t want to, but because I wouldn’t even know where to start. The next couple of days you might hear some things…”, he said, and put his hands on either side of my face. “I need you to know, that this is real”.

“I know it is”, I said, and ran my thumb over his bottom lip. “I know”.

We got out of the bed, and started to dress. While Rick tied his boots, I picked up the harness, and looked at it.

Rick turned to face me, as I started putting it on.

“I’m sorry”, he said, and looked at the ground in front of him.

I limped over to him, stroke his cheek, and kissed his lips softly. Slipping my hand into his pocket, I pulled out the key he had placed there; and put it in his hand.

“Let’s just get this over with”, I said, and connected the straps to the disc on my chest; so he could lock it.

He did, and then pressed the button on his wrist. A short beep, and the light turned from green to red.

“This thing coming up… it doesn’t sound good. But I’m going to do whatever I have to, to make sure you’re safe”. He put his forehead to mine.

“I’m a big girl, Rick”, I smiled.

“You’re hotheaded and stubborn. And that’s not a compliment”, he said. “To top that of, you’re still injured”.

“Keep going like this, and I will smack you”, I smirked. He put his lips to mine, savoring the feeling.

“Just please… follow my orders, and we’ll get through this”.

I smiled at him.

“Yes, colonel Flag, sir!”.

He smirked, and we went out the door.

---

I’d had to go back to my cell; but I’d fallen asleep quickly, once Rick had led me there, removed my harness, and left me – after a quick kiss, while no one was watching.

The next morning, we were gathered in the gym.

Digger, as always, looked chronically hung over, but the only other member of the team seeming affected by the “party” the night before, was Harley; who was wearing a pair of oversized sunglasses, and clutching a tiny cup of espresso.

I was sitting in my wheelchair, though I did not need it; it just so happened to be the most comfortable chair in the room. Foot raised on the empty beer crate, I was pretending to read my copy of Alice.

“Mhm”, said a voice from behind me. “Must have been a good one”.

Floyd sat down next to me.

“I’m not sure what you mean”, I said unconvincingly.

“You’ve been reading that same page for the last 20 minutes”, he said.

“It’s my favorite part”, I retorted.

“And,” he continued “you’re holding it upside down”.

My face reddened, and I put down the book.

“Anyone else notice?”, I asked.

“Oh, we all know. You have a hickey the size of Florida on your neck”, he chuckled.

“Fuck”, I gasped, and tried to cover my neck with my hand.

“Too late, girl”, Floyd smiled widely. “Only thing, I can’t figure out which one of these nasty ass guards you’d be willing to knock it with”.

So he didn’t know about Flag. Rick.

“It wasn’t supposed to happen”, I groaned. He laughed and patted my shoulder.

“Hey, you’ll get no shit from me. We all need a little tlc sometimes”, he smiled, and got up to walk away. Turning around, he stopped for a second.

“Did you find your something to live for?”.

“Maybe”, I said honestly. He nodded, and went to join Diablo at the dumbbells.

The metal doors opened, and Griggs came in, followed closely by a dozen of his men. No matter how badass he tried to look, it was clear he was terrified of us; especially when we were grouped together.

“Hey shitheads. Line up!”, he barked. “You had a nice party last night it seems”.

We all got in line, about six feet between us, as we stood next to each other; hands on our heads, and legs spread. Griggs walked up to a grey-faced Digger.

“Crocodile Dundee; stand up straight when I’m talking to you”, he roared in to the poor mans face; as he was doing his best to block out the sound with his hands.

He walked back and forth in front of us, avoiding getting too close to Croc, who was standing at the end of the line.

“You need to clean this shit up!”, he yelled, and kicked at the beer case I’d been resting my foot on earlier.

“I’ve been told you have guests coming in. That woman, Waller, and the colonels samurai”.

I started swaying; my ankle giving in to pain. It was difficult to stand up straight. Griggs sauntered over to me, and put his hands on my waist. I heard mumbling and a growl coming from my friends; but the guards all cocked their guns, and aimed them at our group.

“How’s the foot?”, he said quietly, looking into my eyes, swaying back and forth with me; in a weird slow dance.

“I heard you went to visit colonel Douche last night. You were in there a long time, Puss”, he jeered. “Did ya’ give the soldier boy a little lapdance? You’re good at that, ain’t you? What was that place called you worked at? Scottys’?”.

From the corner of my eye, I could see Floyd sending me a look of confusion.

“Get off me”, I hissed; trying to create distance between us, still keeping my hands on my head.

“Oh, come on”, Griggs smirked, leaning in to me. “You like a man in uniform, don’t you? All someone has to do is flash a bit of rank, and you’ll spread ‘em. Screwing your way out of here…”.

A bright voice interrupted him.

“In my professional experience, slut shaming is usually a sign of extreme insecurity, and pent up sexual frustration, stemming from the aggressing party not interacting in any kind of physical intercourse themselves”, Harley said pointedly. “Blue balls much?”, she finished, smiling brightly.

Griggs stepped away from me, and stormed towards her. He was stopped dead in his tracks, as Digger bent forward in front of him, heaving; and letting out a steady stream of his stomach content; making it land on Griggs’ uniform.

“Shit. You disgusting… Shit!”, Griggs yelped, and stormed towards the door, followed by his guards, who kept aiming their guns at us until the door closed behind them.

“Oops, sorry mate”, Digger burped. We all laughed.

“Come on man, let’s get you cleaned up”, Diablo said, and supported Diggers weight on their way to the bathroom. “Good job”, I heard him laugh, as they walked away.

I went to sit down; my hands shaking, as I arranged myself in the wheelchair.

“You and Flag, huh?”. Floyd was looking down at me. “Don’t get me wrong, I’ve been with some nasty ass skanks in my day. But… really?”, he looked at me, disbelieving.

I sighed.

“It’s like I said. It wasn’t supposed to happen”. I looked up at him. “But it did”.

Floyd tilted his head.

“I guess he’s got that Ken doll thing going for him. And he’s not a total asshole. Just be careful this doesn’t fuck up your situation in this place. We got it better here than we could have wished for, being who we are”, he said, and crouched in front of me.

“Live, Y/N”, he said quietly, squeezed my knee gently; and left me alone to my thoughts.

---

“You’re going to Gotham”.

Waller was briefing us in a conference room, connected to hallway outside the gym. We were all sitting around a table that gave off an aroma of stale coffee and cigarette smoke, looking at a slideshow, that would probably be destroyed once this meeting was over.

In a corner of the room stood a masked Asian woman, carrying a sword. Rick had introduced her to me as Katana.

“She’s got his back”, Harley had beemed at me, grabbing Katana in her arms, and giving her a tight squeeze. “I’ve missed you so much!”. Katana had retreated as quickly as she could; and was now scowling at us from her corner.

“A terrorist group has threatened an attack on Midtown, three days from now”, Waller said. “Exactly where has yet to be confirmed; but we suspect it will be going down in the area of Gotham Proper. This makes either Gotham U., Central High School, or Gotham Hospital likely targets. Either way, casualties will be in the thousands”.

She switched the slide, showing us a map of what seemed to be the western part of Gotham.

“It seems the group has gained access to all surveillance footage in the area, meaning they will notice us coming at them, regardless of which direction we decide to take”.

“We?”, Diablo asked.

“Well, you. Obviously”, Waller retorted. “Police and military have been ordered to act as normal; not evacuate or show any sign that we are taking this threat seriously”.

“So basically, you’re letting people die”, Floyd said, trying to control his temper. “Why?”.

“Don’t worry, Deadshot. Your daughter and her mother have been sent on vacation to the west coast, visiting family.

“They ain’t got no family on the west coast”, Floyd growled.

“They do now”, Waller said.

“Get to the point, Waller. What do we need to do?”, Rick asked.

“You need to go in quietly, but well-armed”. She looked at me. “This is where you come in, Chess”.

Ricks eyes were instantly on me; worried and enraged.

“No, she’s not ready.”, he said as calmly as he could. Across the table, Harley was making a heart shape with her hands, winking at me.

“Colonel, you need to go in invisibly. Literally”, Waller said to him.

Rick walked up to her, and lowered his voice.

“She almost died yesterday. Her ankle is messed up; and she might have a couple of fractured ribs; due to the beating you let the guards here give her”. That last part was only half true, as I’d had no trouble with my ribs, when he was holding on to me for dear life, as I rode him the night before.

“I didn’t let the guards do anything. Y/N is a prisoner here at Belle Reve, and whatever treatment she receives from the staff here, is between her and them”. I really don’t like you, I thought.

“Amanda…”, Rick said, but was interrupted.

“Let’s speak in private”, Waller said coldly.

---

Rick and Katana walked us back to the gym, leaving Waller waiting for them in the conference room.

Once back, and out of sight of the guards, Rick looked at us all, his eyes ending up meeting mine. He lifted his hand, and pressed the button on his wrist. My disc shone green.

Katana grabbed his arm, and angrily said something I couldn’t understand.

“She deserves to know”, Rick said quietly, and walked up to me, placing a hand on my shoulder.

“Remember what I said last night”, he said in a hushed tone. “And be quiet”.

I nodded, and disappeared from view.

Leaving the rest of the group behind, waiting for more instruction; we walked back to the conference room. Katana was grumbling something all the way; the only word I could understand being “stupid”.

Waller was sitting at the end of the table when we came in. I lightly touched Ricks arm, letting him know I was there. He sighed.

“Amanda, this is dangerous”, he said.

“I know”, she answered. “That’s why it’s these people doing it”.

“But her?”, he asked, sitting down in one of the chairs. It seemed he couldn’t sit far enough away from her; such was his aggravation.

“She’s getting to you”, Waller said matter-of-factly. “We’ve been here before, haven’t we?”.

“No. This is not that. She is a member of my team, who just so happens to be completely unprepared for this situation”. I stood against the wall behind him, watching his shoulders move as he spoke.

“This is not your team, Flag”, she said harshly. “These are assets; they’re disposable. You’re not supposed to make friends with them”.

“I am the leader of that squad”, Rick tried, with an authoritative voice.

“You are the babysitter of a bunch of gangbangers and psychopaths; put in this jail to be punished for their deeds. That gym out there was supposed to be a training facility. In stead you’ve let them turn it in to a frat house”.

Rick slammed his fist into the table, making me jump. Katana looked in my direction, letting me know she’d heard me. I needed to be quieter.

“You can’t ask this of them!”, he yelled. “She could die. They could all die!”.

“So?”, Waller said, voice leveled; eyes cold.

“How long have you known about her?”, he asked.

“She’s been on the board for a while; a file I kept in my drawer for when I needed her. When this threat came in, I knew it was time to extract her”.

“This is the one, isn’t it?”, Rick said. “The one you’ve been preparing for months. The one you didn’t want to tell me about. Why?”.

“Because I knew what your reaction would be, and I didn’t have time to deal with your sensitive emotions”, she answered.

Rick sighed. “There is no threat, is there?”.

“There is a threat, but it’s not new. We’ve known about this group for a little over a year”.

“Then why now?”, he wondered.

“Because we caught her”, she answered. “Now we finally have a chance of taking them down; because they won’t be able to see you coming”.

“And the attack? That’s bullshit?”. He was tensing up.

“Not exactly”, Waller said, gathering her papers. “We know they have access to explosives, and that they are able to set them up quickly; causing great damage to a large area. The three targets I mentioned before, are still the most likely to be hit”.

Rick stood up and walked over to her, staring her down menacingly.

“When we finish this one; you and me – we’re done”.

She took her papers and walked towards the door.

“If you say so”, she said, and closed the door behind her.

 Tag list:

@gloriousgam3r​

@hyp-oh-critical​

[captain-s-rogers]

Have A Little Faith In Me

(gif credit to the creator)

Part Three

Master List

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC // Clint Barton x OFC Word Count: 2,527 Warnings: none? A/N: Here’s the third part of the rewrite of my first ever Marvel series! Special thanks to the best bestie in the world, @arrowsandmixtapes​​ , for making sure all of my work isn’t absolute garbage! If you want to be added to my tag list please let me know! Feedback is cool :)

Sophia lost track of how many times she listened to Steve’s message over the next few days as her head and heart battled each other. Though she wanted to call him back, at least hear out his explanation, she refused to return the phone call and be the girl who caves to a guy only because he’s good-looking. 

“You could just call him back, ya know,” Lucy mentioned, as casually as possible, while the two women were having lunch.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Sophia speared a cucumber in her salad and crunched into it, pretending to be innocent of the subject at hand while also trying to convince herself that good looks was all she had seen in Steve the night of the public event. 

Lucy reached across the table and snatched Sophia’s phone. Sophia tried to stop her, but she wasn’t quite quick enough. 

“Sophia, it’s Steve. Steve Rogers. I’m so sorry about not making our date tonight. Something important came up and I couldn’t get out --” 

Sophia ignored Lucy’s knowing look, set down her fork and leaned over the table to snatch her phone back. She cut off the message and shoved the phone back in her purse. She went back to her salad as though she hadn’t practically crawled over the table in a public place. 

“I can’t call him back,” Sophia stated. “In case you forgot, Luce, he stood me up, then gave a vague, thoughtless excuse. Aren’t you the one who told me that men are only vague when they’re lying?”

Lucy rolled her eyes. “I said most guys. And anyway, is sitting here, repeatedly listening to the message and driving yourself absolutely insane, really any better than calling the guy back and going on one little date?” 

“Yes.” 

Lucy shook her head, taking a bite of her own salad. Since Sophia had apparently dug her heels in on the matter, she took the conversation in a slightly different direction. 

“You know, Colin in marketing has had his eye on you for a while. Why don’t you accept his offer?” 

“Because I’m not looking for a date,” Sophia replied. “It’s not like I’m lonely and looking for someone to save me from my misery. Steve just so happened to ask me out in a moment of weakness -- I was in the mood to go out, that’s all.”

Lucy took the last bite of her salad before wiping her mouth. “I’m not saying you have to marry Colin or even accept more than one date with him. But, Colin doesn’t seem like he’s looking for anything super serious, either. Maybe going out with him will at least get you to delete Steve’s voicemail so you can move on with your life.”

Sophia leaned back in her chair and huffed. Lucy always had her best intentions at heart, and that motivated Sophia to give what her friend was saying a moment of real consideration. Maybe Lucy was right; maybe Sophia needed to go out with someone else to get over the nothing she’d had with Steve. 

“Fine, I’ll go out with Colin,” Sophia relented, drawing a grin from Lucy across the table, “Next time he asks me out, I’ll say yes, but I am not going to seek him out.” 

“That’s fair. I do really think it will be good for you.” Lucy leaned forward and gave her friend a comforting smile. 

Sophia assured Lucy that she knew her friend had good intentions. With a plan in place, Sophia was able to finish her lunch without Lucy pressing any more on the subject of men and dating.

Steve couldn’t think of anything or anyone else except for Sophia and the fact that she hadn’t returned his call. He threw himself into work, even going so far as to ask Director Fury for extra missions with S.H.I.E.L.D -- ones he really wasn’t needed on -- but the distraction failed. Though he knew that she had to be upset about being stood up, and rightfully so, he had been so sure that she would call back. 

Calling again crossed his mind, but he didn’t want to bother her or press the issue if she didn’t want to call him back. Their time together at the public event had been short, but Steve knew that they could be a good thing. Missing his date with her had left him missing out on a good thing, which was another thing he couldn’t stop his mind from reminding him throughout the day.

“Just like Peggy, all over again,” Steve sighed to himself. 

His work with S.H.I.E.L.D was important. Steve knew that. If he hadn’t known that from the beginning, he never would have agreed to be part of the supersoldier program in the first place. His need to serve his country, to live up to the duty he had been called to fulfill, did not escape his knowledge, either. But, he was realizing the cost of service and duty now: his personal life was being greatly affected by this work he had been called to do. 

The walls of his apartment were closing in on him, and his mind was only racing faster by the minute. He needed to clear his head, to get out and find something else to think about. After pushing his arms into the sleeves of his worn, brown leather jacket, Steve double-checked that he had his keys and his wallet, and walked out the door, making sure to lock it before he walked away. 

Present day New York City was still a sight Steve was getting used to. The buildings were far more numerous, not to mention taller. Traffic was more dense and faster and -- well, chaotic, really. Out of all the things he had to adjust to in this new time period, the city traffic was something Steve wasn’t so sure that he would ever be able to wrap his mind around. 

There was a coffee shop a few blocks down from his apartment building; Steve decided on a whim to stop there for a cup of coffee. Starbucks was all right, and maybe it was the old-timer in him, but he preferred these little local places. So that he could remember it for next time, he looked up, trying to read the name on the building as he pulled on the door handle. Still trying to commit the name to memory, he wasn’t quite paying attention when he stepped into the shop -- and abruptly bumped into someone preparing to walk out of the shop. The woman he bumped into dropped the small purse in her hand as a result of the interaction. 

“I am so sorry,” he quickly apologized, feeling a little ridiculous for not having his head on straight. He picked up the purse and handed it to her. “Sophia?”

“Steve?” She looked just as surprised to see him as he was to see her. 

Steve thought his mind had been racing before, but now it was reeling out of control. Sophia was standing right in front of him, looking more beautiful than he even remembered. He stared for a bit too long before registering that her arm was hooked through that of the man standing next to her. He was tall, with dark hair and blue eyes. Steve’s heart dropped, followed quickly by his stomach. No wonder Sophia had never called him back; for all he knew, she hadn’t shown up that night at the restaurant, either. 

“Sorry, didn’t mean to knock into you,” Steve apologized. His voice was trembling a bit, so he cleared his throat. “Good to see you again, Ms. Hawkins.”

“Yeah, you too, St -- Mr. Rogers.” Sophia seemed confused, and Steve wondered if he hadn’t also imagined the tremble in her voice.  

Steve walked past her quickly and joined the line to order. So much for making sure he remembered the name of the shop. He’d never visit here again, if only to avoid the possibility of seeing Sophia with another man again. 

He ordered his coffee to go and went straight back to his apartment. As he walked, his mind slowed -- not that that meant much as it only returned to its normal racing speed from the last few days. The slow down helped him think things through. That man with Sophia wasn’t necessarily a boyfriend, he could have been someone else she was on a date with. Maybe it was serious, maybe it wasn’t. 

“You’re going to drive yourself crazy,” he muttered. 

The walk and the coffee had indeed helped to clear Steve’s mind. By the time he reached his apartment door, he had decided to give Sophia another call and ask her one more time to go out with him.

Sophia surprised herself by enjoying her lunchtime coffee date with Colin, and quite a bit at that. 

Until she ran into Steve. 

Seeing him standing right there, within inches of her, in the coffee shop had sent her directly back to square one. Do not pass go, do not collect a fresh outlook, do not move on. Fortunately, she didn’t have time to dwell on the unexpected meeting, as swamped as she was when she returned to work. There were messages to return and vendors to secure, reservations to take for the latest benefit hosted by the firm. 

On top of all of that, her desk phone had been ringing off the hook since she had sat back down at her desk. Making a note to talk to someone about maybe hiring an assistant or receptionist, she rejoiced when things finally calmed down. The lull allowed her to finalize the seating chart for the guest list. She forwarded the chart over to Lucy for a second look, to be sure, and then, inevitably, the phone rang again. 

“Son of a bitch,” she mumbled under her breath. She allowed herself a frustrated groan and considered letting the call go to voicemail. She didn’t recognize the number anyway, and calls could always be returned. Then, she remembered that a couple of new vendors had been hired for the event. With the most upbeat voice she could manage, and even going so far as to plaster a smile on her face, Sophia picked up the receiver and greeted the caller. “Thank you for calling Rockefeller PR, Sophia Hawkins speaking.”

“Sophia? It’s Steve. Uh, Rogers. Steve Rogers.  

The phone slipped from her hand, but she caught it before her shocked reaction could be detected from the other end of the telephone line. “Steve. How did you get this number? And why are you calling me at work?”

“I looked the number up,” he replied simply, leaving out the fact that he’d had to track down a phone book to do so because the internet had been too complicated in his worked up state. “And, I’m calling you at work because I want to ask you again if you would consider having dinner with me. Before you say no or anything else, you have to understand, I know that I messed up last time. I should have called you before our scheduled meeting time. But, I swear to you, I really could not get away from the important thing that came up. I hope I can tell you about it someday, but we can’t get to know each other better and get to that point if you don’t go out with me.”

“Generally, I won’t and don’t get myself all dolled up again for a guy who stood me up, regardless of the circumstances.”

“Sophia --” He started to protest, ready to give another amazing speech, but Sophia interrupted him.  

“But for you I will consider it. Give me some time, and I promise to let you know whatever I decide. How does that sound?” 

“Much better than a flat-out no,” Steve answered, releasing a sigh of relief. “I’ll wait for your call.” 

Sophia promised Steve she wouldn’t let too much time pass before she called him with an answer, and they ended their phone call. Ironically enough, the phone call with Steve helped to calm her nerves and Sophia found the remaining hours of her work day flew by. After setting the phone to go directly to voicemail, she gathered her things and met Lucy in the hallway for the short walk to the subway. 

On the ride home, Sophia filled Lucy in on her lunch date with Colin, and then continued on into the phone call with Steve. Lucy listened intently, allowing Sophia to tell her everything before replying. For once, Lucy’s tone was rational and calm and, before Sophia knew what had happened, Lucy had managed to convince her to agree to the second-chance date with Steve. 

Sophia waited until they were in the quiet of their apartment to make the phone call. She dropped the couch, not even taking her jacket off, if only to get the phone call done with before she changed her mind. Steve answered on the second ring. 

“Hey Steve, it’s Sophia.”

The smile in his voice was evident, though it was fringed with hesitancy. “I wasn’t expecting to hear back from you so soon.” 

“Yeah, I wasn’t expecting to call so soon,” she admitted with a chuckle. “Listen, here’s the deal. I will go out with you, on one condition.” 

“And what would that condition be?” Steve asked.

“We make it a double and you find someone to set my friend Lucy up with,” Sophia replied, stifling her laughter at Lucy’s shocked expression. “This way, if some important circumstance comes up again, I won’t be all alone.” 

Sophia thought she might have sounded a little harsh and hoped Steve would understand that was not her intention -- 

“I think that’s more than fair,” he ceded, “I can find someone for Lucy, no problem.”

Shaking her head, Lucy disappeared into the kitchen while Sophia finalized the plans for the double-date with Steve. Once off the phone, Sophia went to the kitchen where Lucy was waiting at the bar with a glass of wine. 

“I didn’t know that I was going to be punished for encouraging you to go on a date with this guy,” Lucy commented through gritted teeth. 

“I need you to help me feel this situation out, Luce! You have to be there with me to do that. And, if he doesn’t show, I don’t want to sit there alone, drinking away my humiliation like last time.” Sophia took the wine glass from Lucy’s hand and drank down most of what was left. “You hungry?”

Lucy nodded. “Starving, actually.”

“Oh good,” Sophia grinned, corking the wine bottle and putting it back in its proper place on the counter. “Because we’re meeting Steve and his friend downtown in an hour.”

Lucy finished off the contents of the wine glass and set it in the sink, then headed to her room to freshen up and change her clothes for an evening she hadn’t planned on. Sophia kept grinning as she followed, but Lucy narrowed her eyes at her friend. 

“You are so lucky you’re my best friend, you know that?”

@arrowsandmixtapes​​​ @the-murder-strut-murdered-me​​​ @growningupgeek​​​ @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan​​​ @captain-rogers-beard​​​ @kitkatd7​​​ @patzammit​​​ @sagechanoafterdark​​​ @what-is-your-plan-today​​​

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 244: Have You Read This Book

Previously on BnHA: Deku visited his mom on New Year’s Eve and was all “here’s a new letter from my ever-expanding fanclub of adorable preschoolers whom I saved from trauma” and Inko was all, “I’M SO PROUD OF YOU IZUKU I FEEL LIKE I DON’T HAVE TO PROTECT YOU ANYMORE” because she doesn’t watch the news at all or keep track of ominous plot developments I guess. The next morning, a.k.a. New Year’s Fucking Day, while other kids their age visited shrines or sat at home watching TV, Izuku, Shouto, and Katsuki were bussed off to go be child soldiers at Endeavor’s hero agency. Katsuki was all “HEY ENDEAVOR YOU’RE KIND OF A DICK,” and Endeavor was all “SHOUTO IS THIS VULGAR AND PUGNACIOUS YOUTH REALLY YOUR FRIEND” and Shouto was all “TOO LATE DAD, YOU SAID!!” and Endeavor hmmphed and booked it out of there and the kids all followed him and there was this old dude with a beard floating around screaming about END TIMES!! and Hawks was there and, what?? Seriously does anyone actually know what’s going on?

Today on BnHA: Endeavor chases down the old man (who may in fact be an actual prophet, though? Horikoshi what games are you playing) and sets him on fire and tackles him and it’s all very violent. Hawks then appears out of nowhere and breaks up BakuDeku’s tag team effort all “SAVE IT FOR THE MOVIE YOU TWO!” and is then all “hi Shouto” and “hi, you must be Midoriya, Tokoyami told me all about you, I wanted to work with you too, BUT -- [stares off angstily into the distance].” Then, because I forgot that Hawks never shuts up, he’s all, “Hey Endeavor have you ever heard of this book, ‘Paranormal Liberation Front’? Don’t let the really dumb-sounding title put you off, it’s actually a rousing tale full of hidden clues about all the bullshit I’m actually up to. I highlighted the relevant portions if you can’t be assed to read it, well anyways, Hail Hydra.” “Well that was a strange conversation,” Endeavor thinks to himself as he stares uncomprehendingly into the void. Sob someone please help them why are they so bad at this oh god.

(All comments are my unspoiled reactions from my initial readthrough of the chapter. I did a quick edit for grammar and clarity immediately afterward, and added a few ETAs in the process, but aside from that there are no changes.)

so thanks to that little stunt Horikoshi pulled two weeks ago, our chances of finding out Bakugou’s hero name any time within the next dozen chapters are slimmer than ever. probably he’ll reveal it at the end of the arc instead. it’s like he doesn’t even care about the databook. whatever I’ll have plenty of time to sulk more about it after I get to readin’

anyway the title of the new chapter is “Recommendation”, so... actually that does sound fairly promising, though? am I just eternally doomed to get my hopes up? is this referring to Shouto pestering his dad to take on his two best friends as fellow interns? what’s going on here

anyway so we’re opening with this

I love that it’s the two supposed goody-two-shoes kids who are actually being vocal about blatantly disregarding Endeavor’s orders. Shouto is just not having it to begin with, whereas Deku at least is trying to rationalize his own reckless behavior. Katsuki meanwhile is too focused on doing this fancy kick move to switch his suitcase from his left hand to his right to bother talking right now. reminds me of him playing with the soccer ball as a youngling

also the fact that his case is number 17 and Deku’s is number 18. have I talked about this before? I think I have but it was with some other numbered thing. anyways love the symbolism of him trying to stay one step ahead of him and Deku always being right on his heels. or maybe I’m reading too much into it but anyways rivals, yay

damn Endeavor is really determined to get ahead of them though

uh oh Horikoshi how much action did you pack into this chapter. starting to run out of time to finish all your panels again huh. you had a whole extra week! how fucking insane is this arc going to be holy shit

anyways Endeavor way to leave your brand new interns behind minutes after meeting them for the first time smdh. this is exactly how it went down with Hawks and Tokoyami

okay so like, I know a flash fire is an actual thing, but for a second I started wondering if in this kind of context (with him speeding off), it might also be a reference to the DC hero. then I remembered that the name of Endeavor’s technique is different in Japanese and the pun probably doesn’t translate. ah well

anyways dude is fast. but I wouldn’t count the kids out yet, they’re all pretty fast too!

so now we’re back downtown with Old Man Doom And Gloom, and oddly enough it seems that this isn’t actually an out-of-the-ordinary occurrence?

fucking quirk society. you guys are just so desensitized to the most bizarre fucking things. but I guess we in the 21st century are hardly ones to talk ourselves sigh

anyway now he’s being a bit more extra than usual and they’re starting to worry

?? the fuck is that? that sure as hell isn’t Hawks or Endeavor lmao. IF IT’S SLIDIN’ GO I SWEAR TO GOD

or wait, is it still the old man talking? should I actually be paying attention to his ramblings, my bad

is that a fucking Spirit Bomb

(ETA: in truth this is the most badass attack name that has ever existed or will ever exist and I should give it its proper due actually.)

so now I guess he’s hurtling it at them??

...hold up one sec

“revelations from the universe, I have received. flee, flee good citizens. the Dark Lord’s lips curl into a wicked crescent” -- holy shit, this all tracks?? IS THIS DOOMSDAY CRACKPOT MOTHERFUCKER ACTUALLY RIGHT ON THE FUCKING MONEY HOLY SHIT. ARE YOU A WITCH GOOD SIR. DID YOU WRITE A BOOK OF HIGHLY ACCURATE AND DEVASTATINGLY WITTY PROPHECIES BY ANY CHANCE

“the end is nigh! the wicked stars are conspiring against us! we must stop them! the earth is on the verge of being engulfed by darkness! flee, my fellow citizens! I am the one who shall destroy this source of darkness! be revealed! servants of the dark lord, come forth!”

okay listen. if he’s aiming this fucking thing at Hawks, though, after a speech like that? fuck it, I’m a believer. I’m sorry old man, I wrote you off without a second thought and here you are being the only one who’s actually like “HELLO!!!? PEOPLE!!!? THE LEAGUE OF VILLAINS!!?! THEY HAVE AN ARMY!!? AND NOUMUS!??! FUUUUUUUUCK”

and I don’t know where you’re getting your information, but those are some legit-ass universe revelations. fucking even talks about the “Dark Lord” specifically only describing his lips. because he doesn’t have anything else to describe nowadays, face-wise. shit that is spooky

anyway so that sure was unexpected. let’s see what shenanigans Master Roshi here is gonna get himself into next

did my boy just get fucking flashfired. jesus Endeavor show some fucking mercy

...

someone want to explain to this man the concept of a proportionate response? anyone? ...

fucking Todorokis I swear to god. if they weren’t all so good at being amazing superheroes, they could easily fall back on a career of being dramatic bitches for hire instead

anyways when did Endeavor change his clothes. this dude was wearing a turtleneck and slacks thirty seconds ago. did he literally just burn them off. how. what. fucking plot holes left and right

lol imagine if like on the next page the interns finally catch up and they’re like holding his fucking jacket and looking peeved

-- holy fucking shit, Endeavor

not cool, dude!! what the fuck. this isn’t a fucking Noumu for fuck’s sake THAT IS A HUMAN PERSON

(ETA: I guess he ended up being okay, but shit, for a moment it looked like we were going full blown Raiders of the Lost Ark over here. anyways the moral of this story is that Endeavor is terrifying, fuck.)

so now of course Nostradamus is trying to get the fuck out of there, because if he sticks around Endeavor apparently has no qualms about burning him alive. fuck me Endeavor, I’m still rooting for your redemption arc my dude, but tbh if Dabi happens to pop up out of nowhere here looking for some revenge I’m not gonna say no to it right now. quit burning people alive!!

so now 12/21/2012 is zooming down an alley and Endeavor is zooming after him and telling some extra with a sword to stay and lead the evacuation

oh??

Endeavor have you flown yourself right into a trap?

oh my god what the fuck is this

it’s like Dabi VS the Liberation Army all over again. fucking check all these motherfuckers who apparently want to get themselves deep fried. this one guy really thinks he’s going to clock the Number One with a piece of fucking PVC pipe

LMAOOOOO

LOOKS LIKE WE GOT OURSELVES A RUCKUS, BOYS! you better believe I have the Powerpuff Girls theme song playing in my head right now

-- !!!

HAWKS!! I WAS STARTING TO WONDER IF YOU REALLY WERE THERE TOO OR IF THE PANELS IN THE PREVIOUS CHAPTER WERE DELIBERATELY MISLEADING

LOOOOOOL

pour one out for these poor sobs who somehow got themselves caught up in an accidental pincer attack between the dynamic fucking duo and fucking Angry Bird here. where the fuck is Shouto btw. or is he the one that got stuck carrying Endeavor’s jacket

loool look at Hawks out here making friends

SURPRISE BITCH

oh my god though you guys look at this??

HELLO SURPRISE NEW FAVORITE SERIES OF PANELS, CAN I JUST TAKE A MOMENT TO LOVE ON YOU A BIT HERE, BECAUSE

1. Bakugou and Deku IN PERFECT SYNC, not even thinking about it. just effortless. that was an amazing tag team thing you guys had going on before SOMEONE stepped in and ruined it all omg. do you want me to talk to Hawks for you. I’ve been meaning to discuss some other things with him anyway so it’s not like it’d be going out of my way. can you believe this fucking pigeon blocked my number. WHERE IS JEANIST YOU BASTARD

anyways 2. “I thought Endeavor might have been in a tough spot” that’s a funny way of saying “I was lonely and missed my angry arson dad”! and fucking look at this ridiculous bantering between them. “did it look like I was in a tough spot?” I FUCKING CAN’T YOU GUYS PLEASE STOP

and 3. Shouto just watching. is he impressed by his dad? or just trying to figure out whether Hawks is his dad’s adopted son or boyfriend. I’m pretty sure it’s the former, Shouto, but I don’t blame you for being confused, Hawks just has that kind of energy with everyone

oh my god

somebody arrest this man. I can’t fucking deal with your cheeky fucking face Hawks

is Skeptic getting all of this?? are they sitting there with bowls of popcorn back at the League of Pliff HQ trying to figure out whether Endeavor and Hawks are dating

...and shit, I just realized the League officially knows now that the disaster trio is interning with the number one. so that’s fucking great. not that it would have been a secret for long, but still, things are officially starting to get real. in hindsight, after the Kamino arc we had a nice long stretch of chapters in which Deku, Kacchan, and Shouto were not in immediate danger from the main fucking villains, so that was nice while it lasted I guess. those days will soon be behind us

ahhhklkljkl

fucking shit Hawks could you be any more ominous. oh my god this arc really is going to kill me

so now we’re cutting away to somewhere. Pliff?

-- oh, nope, still in the same place, we just fast-forwarded to the part where the police came to haul all the bad guys away

and now the manga is being all clever and foreshadowing-y and would you look at this

BUT IS HE TALKING ABOUT ENDEAVOR, OR HAWKS omg. or hell, he could even be talking about Deku. or AFO even though he’s not actually there. point is, you know he’s not actually wrong. but what is he actually trying to tell us ahhhhhh Servant of the Stars please reveal your secrets

(ETA: in all seriousness you guys, I’m fully down for counting this as a prophecy. it’s already canon that future-seeing quirks are a thing, so. the only problem is that this is some Game of Thrones-level ambiguity as far as who he’s actually talking about. it seriously could be anyone. anyways at least we’ve got some shiny new theory material to play around with here so that’s nice.)

LMAO

HAWKS YOU BASTARD, JUST LIKE THAT I’VE FORGIVEN YOU FOR THE FUCKING JEANOCIDE

how does every single person Deku meets not greet him this way?? I sure as hell would. “well if it isn’t the kid who just. fuckin blew up his own hands on live television, multiple times. salutations”

anyways where’s Katsuki, the boy whose previous hero mentor you murdered in cold blood but he doesn’t actually know that yet. when are we gonna start in on that?

Hawks says he’s heard about Deku from Tokoyami. and he even says he would have liked to work with Deku too, wow. that’s high praise

ffffff here it comes, THAT GOOD HAWKS ANGST. WE WERE WAITING FOR THIS BUT IT’S STILL BRUTAL GAH

is this entire arc just going to consist of Hawks saying cryptic things with double meanings known only to him and then glancing sideways at the camera all broodingly omg

AH, THERE HE IS

Katsuki’s natural instinct to dislike 100% of newcomers on sight might work out to his advantage here. Hawks’s maxed-out Charisma stats VS Katsuki’s middling Perception stats which nonetheless have a tendency to land high whenever he performs an ability check! I might need to back off from this metaphor though before it becomes really obvious that I don’t actually play D&D

lol

omg Endeavor can’t a guy just drop in on his grumpy pal out of the blue to make sure he’s doing okay without having some sort of ulterior motive? why are you so sure that Hawks showing up means that plot must be happening. because you’re not wrong, is the thing. but he’s probably just being standoffish for show

holy shit and now Hawks is just pulling out the Liberation Army’s book just like that?? IS HE ALLOWED TO DO THAT

(ETA: “let’s see, what’s a subtle way I can try and clue Endeavor in on the fact that I’ve become an undercover agent in the Paranormal Villain League of Liberation Front Armies. ... ...shit I’m not good at this.”)

and since when was this book called “Paranormal Liberation Front”?? did they change the title to match the new name?

and what’s Hawks’s game here, though? is he going to play it as though he’s secretly investigating Pliff? you know, like he actually is doing? is this some kind of hiding in plain sight thing or what

guys. is Hawks just... actually really bad at being a secret agent. omg

so he’s all “DESTRO’S IDEALS ARE EVERYTHING WE COULD ASK FOR” and lol what. fucking look at Endeavor’s face though

this motherfucker could use a boost of his own wisdom stats, fff

(ETA: swear to god he’s two seconds away from a Katsuki-style “hah?!”)

oh my god

fucking fuck me. he better have highlighted a really obvious section of that book, because otherwise I’m not gonna hold out hope for this message getting across at all. at least we know what that “recommendation” title was referring to now I guess

(ETA: Endeavor: [reading the highlighted section backwards] “‘‘it’s fun to smoke marijuana’!? what in the --”)

loooool

the fate of the world now rests upon Endeavor’s abilities to See Underneath The Underneath and somehow decipher that when Hawks says, “ENDEAVOR I CHASED YOU DOWN IN ORDER TO GIVE YOU A COPY OF THIS BOOK THE VILLAINS WROTE, I THINK IT’S REALLY KEEN AND YOU SHOULD CHECK IT OUT”, what he’s really saying is, “ENDEAVOR I NEED YOU TO INVESTIGATE THIS SUSPICIOUS ‘LIBERATION FRONT’ THAT’S BEEN COINCIDENTALLY GATHERING A LOT OF ATTENTION SINCE THAT SHADY INCIDENT IN DEIKA CITY WHERE ‘TWENTY GUYS' BASICALLY DESTROYED AN ENTIRE TOWN. IF YOU’RE TOO DENSE TO PICK UP ON ANY OF THAT, I HIGHLIGHTED THE RELEVANT PORTION OF THE BOOK SO HOPEFULLY EVEN AN OBLIVIOUS DUMBBELL LIKE YOU CAN FIGURE IT OUT.” jesus christ

at least Endeavor now has some nerdy interns who fucking love to read. hell, Deku has probably already read the book. please help this dumb jock to understand his bird son’s coded message, Deku-Wan Kenobi, you’re our only hope

and that’s the end of the chapter! except that I heard there was a new poster for Heroes Rising that was released as well! how come it wasn’t included here now I have to go hunt it down

son of a bitch is this really the best quality that’s available? damn

well all right. not really much going on here that’s a big revelation or anything, aside from the surprise inclusion of Hawks in the upper right hand corner. did we know he was going to be in this? and like, even if the anime does make it as far as his debut in season 4, will it have reached that point by the time the movie premieres in December? glad I caught up beforehand if they’re gonna start spoiling things like this

so that’s all she wrote for this week! databook is due out next week so that should be fun! we’re finally going to get Hawks’s real name from what I understand. so I can start yelling at him using his full name like a disappointed mom. I have a feeling that’s going to come in handy a lot during this arc. go to your room young man

(ETA: and just watch it be the Japanese equivalent of “Judas McMurder” or some shit. smh. y’all. we stan a shady bitch.)

[underoossss]

Dancing Under The Rain - H.O

Prologue

pairing: Detective!Harrison x female!reader

words: 1.5k

AN: Hello everyone, spooky season has begun with me scaring myself with a new story idea after months of writer’s block and being SO SELF CONSCIOUS of everything I wrote. This idea came to me out of nowhere and I talked to some friends about it which helped me get the confidence I needed to start writing it. This will probably have 5 chapters in total, each of them is kind of like a time skip. This was also inspired by the song RAIN by Ben Platt, hence the title, and it’s about two people who have shut everyone out and are scared of opening up to the one person who might understand what they’ve been through. Harrison and the reader are around their late 20′s early 30′s and the town I used is fictional of course. I hope you enjoy it and I would love to read your comments on this short prologue I’ve written for you. (If someone wants to help me with a moldboard hmu)

----

Over the years you have learned the pros and cons of living in a small town.

The pros:

You can escape from your previous life, from anything that hurt you and start over. No one knows who you are or the past that seems to sometimes follow you like a shadow sometimes. It’s a fresh start and 4 years ago, that was exactly what you needed.

That’s how you ended up in Dewitt, three hours away from Cambridge where everywhere you went people look at you with pity in their eyes. It’s as if losing your brother hadn’t been enough, no, people had to remind you with every look and every how are you? What were you even supposed to say? Devastated would only make people worried and okay made them believe you’re lying to them. Either way you felt like shit, there wasn’t a place you could go that didn’t remind you of him so you did what anyone else would do. Pack up your things and move to a remote town close to the sea where no oneknew you.

The cons:

People talk. A lot.

Not that people aren’t nice, they are, well most of them. However, that doesn’t make them any less nosy or gets rid the river of gossip that inevitably flows when something different from the routine happens. You expected it going in, if word got around in Cambridge then it would certainly get around in Dewitt. Therefore you kept quiet about any personal details or stories, to them you were the psychology professor that owns the bookshop/café in Harold street. You drive up to Cambridge twice a week to lecture your students and Skype any of them who need office hours. During the summers you give online classes and put pastel blue tables outside your store for people to read or talk. To everyone there you were the nice young lady who makes some really nice coffee, who is always smiling and who tutors whoever needs help in science or English lit. Gossip is a plague though, one that no one can escape so that’s how find out a detective has moved into town. Richard Mensen has gone missing and it’s been a week since his family, or anyone else saw him. The local authorities haven’t gotten anywhere so they sent someone else to help.

You walk to the entrance of the bookstore and glance at the police station as a man steps out of a car and walks inside. Harrison Osterfield, the detective from London who you can tell already walks with a massive weight on his shoulders.

----

Everyone is looking, there are cameras and reporters and Harrison just wants to go home. Eight and a half months after arriving to Dewitt, the case was finally solved. Richard Mensen was dead, that they discovered three weeks after arriving. The next eight months that followed were about finding out who did it, why they’d done it and convicting them for ruining a family’s life. They were also full of judgement, Harrison should be used to it by now, but he’s not. His palms sweat and his heart beats too fast under the attention of everyone in the town, every look of disappointment they had sent his way for taking so long.

You do it, Harrison wanted to say, go and solve it if it’s that easy. He puts on a neutral face, his mask, and tries not to give away how terrified he is of fucking up someone else’s life because of his shortcomings. He hasn’t so far, but he lived in fear of it happening. It’s brought him sleepless nights trying to figure cases out, cost him relationships and his confidence. He is sure of one thing though, they got the right guy convicted and now he can go to his little house in the outskirts of town and sleep for ten days.

“The case has been closed, the killer was sentenced to life in prison around thirty minutes ago. We kindly request the press to let the affected family rest and finally deal with their grief at this time. The people of Dewitt can be in peace now, we consider this case to be an anomaly in the otherwise safe community they live in. That’s all I have to say.”

Harrison steps aside and leaves the reporters standing outside of the station as he takes off his tie and shoves it in the pocket of his navy blue suit. The cool spring breeze pushes his hair back as he walks along the sidewalk by the many stores in Harold street. He takes a deep breath, feeling the tension leave his shoulders and smelling freshly ground coffee. Your bookshop is right ahead, the red flowers by the window blooming beautifully under the spring sun and contrasting with the pale yellow of the storefront. Harrison checks his watch, 2:30pm, it’s a bit too late for a coffee but he didn’t drink his usual one this morning and he’d be dammed if he doesn’t take this excuse to see you.

You’re sitting on a table by a bookshelf when he steps into the shop, there’s some papers in front of you, a cup of tea far away from them and what looks like a blueberry muffin by your right hand. Your eyebrows are furrowed while you focus on the words in front of you, almost dropping the piece of muffin you bring to your mouth with a fork. Setting down the fork, you chew on the pastry as you grab a pen and scribble something on one of the papers. It’s only when someone clears their throat behind him that he realizes he’s been leaning on the doorway and staring at you for more than a couple of minutes.

His ears feel like they’re burning when he steps into the shop to let the other person in. It’s George, the owner of the convenience store, who gives him a nod as he walks towards the shelves in the back of the shop. Harrison mumbles a quick apology and walks towards the register where the drink menu is displayed.

“Detective Osterfield.” You smile, standing up when you notice him come into the bookshop. “How was the court this morning?”

“Please, Y/N, call me Harrison.” He feels himself smile as he shakes his head. The case was over so there are no need for formalities, he’d hate it if you only saw him as a professional doing his job whenever he came for coffee. He’s here to see you, the coffee is an added bonus. “Court went well, he got a sentence and the case is closed.”

“That’s good. I bet you’re looking forward to rest for a while.” You walk around the register and move to the expresso machine. “Your usual?”

“No, umm, if I drink coffee right now I won’t sleep and I really need a nap.” He scratches the back of his neck. Why is he always so nervous. He’s seen crime scenes and blood but he can’t talk to you without feeling like a teenager? “But maybe one of those chocolate cookies you’ve got there.”

“Oh! I’m sorry if I’m keeping you then, let me get that cookie for you.” You push your hair behind your ear as you grab a small paper bag and use a napkin to pick a cookie from the jar. “Here you go.”

Harrison can’t help but return the smile you give him and moves to take his wallet from his jacket. “No, you’re fine don’t worry. How much to I owe you?”

“Oh, nevermind that.” You chuckle, smoothing the white blouse you are wearing. “Take it as a thank you for making our town safer.”

Harrison’s ears burn once more, “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, don’t worry about it.” You shrug, suddenly looking shy. “Are you, umm, staying in Dewitt? With the case being closed and all?”

Harrison hadn’t even thought about leaving, this town had become part of his routine and he dared say he’s grown fond of it. Not to mention he’d grown fond you. “Yeah, I’m staying.”

“Good, err, great... that’s nice.” You smile. “Would you like to take a walk down to the beach someday? It’s okay if you say no, don’t feel like you have to say yes because of the cookie, it’s not a bribe or anything I just-”

“Y/N.” Harrison stops your rambling stepping towards you. His heart is beating a mile a minute, you just asked him out. The broody shitty detective that takes eight months to figure out a case. He’s the luckiest shitty detective there is. “I’d love that.” He says, taking you hand.

“Really?” You smile, your eyes find his and he’s surprised to see his own. Eyes that smile but not all the way. Eyes that are hiding something painful that’s locked away in your heart.

“Yeah.” He smiles back, squeezing your hand with his before stepping back. “We can go whenever you want, just let me know.” Let me get to know you, he thinks. 

You nod your head and smile at him again, and he is almost certain that you will. It could take time, but he’s willing to wait until the moment you decide you will because he’ll try to do the same. 

----

tagging: @lovestruckhaz @parkerpuffwrites @deleteidentity @lonely--witch @the-claire-bitch-project @rachramblesstuff @peeterparkr @hollandharrison @angelhaz11 💓

[kob131]

https://rwdestuffs.tumblr.com/post/187342767682/not-be-be-all-double-standards-but-taiyang-has

I’m tackling his reblogs from here.

I think it’s more about how the narrative built them up rather than the actions.

The narrative made Tai out to be a guy who was struggling to put his life back together for the sake of his kids and had a definitively good relationship with all of them and would go to the sun and back for them. Then it turned out that not only did he drown himself in his work, but he also opted to garden instead of go with Yang to look for Ruby.

Notice how he tries to treat ‘struggling to put his life together and ‘drown himself in work’ as if they were happening in the same timespan, not, you know: one after the other. Dudeblade, you don’t get to rewrite the order of events to support your headcanon while arguing it to be truth.

And let’s honestly think about this for a second. Do we REALLY want yet ANOTHER character to the cast? I could give the same argument of ‘he’s suppose to teach at Signal’ but let’s address the actual reason why Taiyang can’t go with Yang: He serves no purpose. There is NOTHING for him to do as Yang’s issues need to be dealt with by Yang, Ruby is closer to Qrow, we already have Qrow as the tragic member of proto-Team RWBY. We already have issues between Oscar and Jaune, we don’t need ANOTHER fight for screentime. So the question is: Do you want Taiyang to eat up screentime, especially considering your hatred of him is because of your issues with your mom, or can we just accept the excuse since it makes sense AND prevents more writing problems?

Willow, on the other hand, was made out to be neglectful at best, or abusive at worst. Since she got married to Jacques and ended up being an alcoholic, she was indeed made out to be neglectful.

No, that’s RAVEN.

Willow is portrayed as a victim who incidentally caused issues with Weiss, since her being an alcoholic is DIRECTLY related to Jacques using her. And by your rules, that means she should be attacked.

And Raven was made out to be a bitch.

You know Dudeblade, you’d be more convincing if you didn’t have a history of trying to portray Raven as basically being Summer or trying to downplay her abuse while completely rewriting canon to demonize Taiyang.

TL;DR: Willow and Raven fulfill what their characters were made out to be, Tai was not. Which is why he gets demonized while Raven and Willow do not.

Except by your own rules: Willow isn‘t fulfilling her character.

You BLATANTLY ignore canon with Taiyang.

And one look at your ‘savior mom raven’ series says otherwise.

Also, at least Raven saved Yang’s life once. Taiyang just belittled her and made callous comments about her lost arm. 

Raven: Saved Yang’s life once which she used to try and manipulate Qrow into siding with her while also using Qrow to tell Yang that she didn’t actually care about her.

Taiyang: Gave not one, not two but THREE speeches about how great Yang is while using moping as a way of empahsizing how little her depression is in comparison to her while raising her alone for over a decade and even trying to make Raven look good to Yang despite all the damage she caused not just to him but Yang and Qrow as well.

THAT is what you are comparing.

You could have directly had this conversation with me instead of doing it like this. I mean… Bashing me for my ship preferences? How much of a warning is that?

Dudeblade you BLOCK him in this chain because he corners you.

And your shipping preferences actually DO matter here since it feeds into the idea that you’re a man hater.

But also, your idea of Taiyang needing to teach at Signal is kinda debunked by the fact that both Port and Oobleck point out that it would be perfectly reasonable for him to go out and look for Ruby. Taiyang instead states that he has to take care of Yang instead.

And Port and Oobleck are right...why again? Also refer to my previous argument about this.

But let’s give the benefit of the doubt here. let’s say that Taiyang wasn’t teaching because he was taking care of Yang. Then why does the narrative choose to show him gardening instead of teaching or defending Vale/Patch?- That was a choice on the narrative to show him gardening instead of teaching or clearing out grimm. Which means that either a) Taiyang wasn’t teaching at the moment (In which case, that needed to be better conveyed to the audience),  or b) that Taiyang is slacking off.

Because the narrative needs to show Taiyang noticing the feather of Raven in order to communicate that he knows she’s there. It also gives us some insight into what he actually thinks of Raven (seeing as he looks miserable at the sight), connects Raven to the home in Patch (which itself acts as the grounds where the family lives) and makes Raven more pitiable (The ONE person left who might have accepted Raven is visibly miserable at her arrival? That’s pretty fucking sad even for Raven.)

Also, what canon evidence do you have that Taiyang is absolutely needed to teach at Signal? What evidence do you have for Taiyang even teaching at all?- That’s all your headcanon.

“With Beacon gone they'll need Dad at Signal more than ever-”

Nope, that’s what Ruby said. And if Oobleck and Port, two people who we never knew had a connection to Taiyang before are right, then Ruby Rose, Signal graduate and his fucking DAUGHTER, is most certainly right.

And Yang has two moments where she says that Taiyang wasn’t entirely there for her.  She explicitly says this twice.

Yeah, bullshit.

A. Don’t think I didn’t catch that manipulative little detail of yours. ‘entirely there’ and ‘always there’ imply VERY different things, with entirely saying that Taiyang is somehgow distant to Yang and always implying a period of tie of disconnect. You choose that word because while it’s surface level means the same thing, the actual meaning is very different.

And B. That second example also says Yang was being emotional and has Yang placing blame on Summer for dying. That is disingenious as fuck.

Do you have evidence to the contrary? Last I checked, all you have is a headcanon that Tai is best dad™. Meanwhile, I have actual canon evidence.

“ She's actually a really great fighter! You can tell she's learned a lot from Dad!”

The fact that TAIYANG TAUGHT YANG, meaning considering Yang’s level of skill and how she went through all years of training at Signal, means he was there for a significant amount of time.

And your evidence is one manipulation of intent and one disingenuous. So no, you don’t.

And “Sociopath”?- Really? Just because I sympathize more with Yang over Tai?

More like you demand fictional characters be killed off or maimed in brutal ways (Jaune or Taiyang) because you project onto them...or the numerous incidents where you either call people Nazis, call them brainwashed because they don’t fit your narrative or ACTIVELY CALL FOR DEATH.

You reblog from known harasser/stalker/racist/sexist KOB.

Cool-

You reblog from known racists, know sexists and known SUCIDE BAITERS while all being ONE YOURSELF.

If he’s wrong, then you are. And funny thing is, I don’t believe that.

1: I never told anyone to drink bleach. I wanted it for myself because of knightof “BLM Is making things worse for black ppl by making more racists” balance. A person you reblog from regularly. Guess you didn’t catch him saying that.

Yeah-

He’s probably talking about Mage. The bisexual guy you said that to after you preached about LGBT suicide rates and he called you out ad then ‘apologized by putting the blame on him and saying you wanted him to go into a coma. And just for reminding me of that: I’m gonna be as sadistic as possible.

2: I apologized for that, and I took the post down.

You said you took it down because ‘neo-nazi right wingers’ were ‘harassing’ you and added on a fake ‘and it was wrong’ thing while keeping that waterboarding tag of yours. Also, that JSWV incident you keep pulling out even in THIS post? I did the same thing AND MORE. So you’re actually worse STILL by your own rules.

3: I headcanon Yang as a lesbian. I just get angry when people shove other headcanons down other people’s throats.

Then I assume you punch yourself whenever you call people homophobic for disagreeing with you?

Yang doesn’t have to resent Tai for him to be negligent. She can have other reactions to it. Like, say, not opening up to him about her issues. Or her calling him by name instead of “dad” like she did when she was talking to Weiss. It’s a complex thing.

Or you know, open up to him about her issues and call him dad like EVERY OTHER APPEARANCE?

Also: You ignore the resentment against Raven.

Aside from this, you are ignoring what my original response was about. It was about intended characterization

And you’re full of bullshit either way.

Y’know what?- I’m going to block you after this. And don’t think about using that as an excuse to claim that you won or anything, I’m just tired of your bullshit. Also, don’t think you can just pull a kob and just copy/paste my posts so that you can argue them. Otherwise, I’d have to report you.

Yeah, how many times have you tried that with me? It never works.

And you ARE silencing him. SO guess what? Time for a classic KOB-style beatdown.

(I’ll unblock you after  this for convenience sake, but next time,   don’t pull this shit because it could be seen as block evasion). 

Oh fuck off.

All I’m saying is that it should have been better conveyed. It was also the middle of the day when Tai was last seen, he should have been in school teaching if that were the case. I would have less of a vendetta against Tai if he was shown in a classroom, or out in vale clearing out some grimm when Raven went to him, but the narrative chose to show him gardening. Which is a poor look for Taiyang.

If you ignore everything we know about school, like days off, or the limitations of the budget while also maliciously misinterpeting scenes: sure.

Although you never seem to accept that with Yang or Raven...

And again: I have to go back to intended characterization.-

Once again: You CANNOT try ‘intended characterization while ignoring the intentions in other scenes and EXPLICTEDLY trying to make things look worse than they are. You’re bullshitting.

Lastly: It was bad writing that made Taiyang out to be a bad dad.-

No Dudeblade, as seen by how the writing continuously CONTRADICTS you: it’s personal bias.

On top of all  of that, Yang got shafted on screentime in volume 4 because the writers said that it would be “boring” watching her mope around a house all day 

Citation needed and when they tried that you all proceeded to huff paint and demand more fight scenes.

It’s your choice to like Taiyang and not ship ros/ebird, just like how it’s my choice to do the opposite. I ship rosebi/rd because I’m a slut for angst. And that Raven is leagues more interesting than Tai.

Except that A. You ship rosebird because you have a yuri fetish and B. you project a perfect vision of your mom onto Taiyang. Just more bullshit.

No really, if you love angst so much: PHOENIX should be your ship as there’s more angst on Taiyang’s side than Summer. Or SummerXQrow. Or hell, QrowXTaiyang. All of which have more positive chances (and thus, more angst) than from Rosebird, where one side nuked Ruby in the face for sounding like the other side.

Plus, I find it irritating that criticism about Tai always has to go in the rwde tag while criticism about Raven can go in her main one. It honestly feels like a double standard… Which is something that I have found to be commonplace in the fndm.

It doesn’t.

You just do it because the main tag isn’t your echo chamber in regards to Taiyang.

Did you know that some people unironically called Jacques “A stern parent trying to discipline Weiss” but then turn around and call Willow “A bitch who should take care of her kids”?

Citation Dudeblade, that sounds like a troll.

And it’s still not as bad as Taiyang “abusive parent who was never there for Yang” and Raven “misunderstood loner mom who totes cares for Yang more than the loving father who raised her.”

[kdfrqqg]

Not My Problem

Dean x Reader

A/N: This was written for @impala-dreamer title challenge. My prompt was “Not My Problem.”

Word Count: 1.2K

Warnings: Spousal abuse, talk of abuse, angst, language 

It was a Tuesday night, you and Dean were sitting in the front seat of the Impala staking out an apartment building that you suspected a werewolf lived at.  With binoculars in your hand, you watched apartment 5F, “Nothing’s happening.” 

You wanted to keep watching the apartment but you got bored, your attention was drawn to another apartment on the third floor where a couple was arguing.  Recognizing the signs of what might happen you deepen your gaze, then it happened the dark haired man smacked the red headed woman so hard she fell to the ground.  “Did you see that? He just hit her.” you put down the binoculars with force, “I’m going in.”

“No you aren’t.  This isn’t our problem.” He told you.

“Not our problem!” you yelled. “What the hell happened to being the hero, saving the day?  If anyone needs to be saved right now it’s that poor woman up there.”

“We fight and save people from supernatural beings not abusive husbands.” Dean said a little too calm and cold for your liking.

You had see the man run in burning buildings, get stabbed, shot but he won't go upstairs and confront this asshole.  Both of you really bonded and opened up about your childhood abuse, most of his was neglect but yours, yours was well pretty awful.  Then you saw the man hit her again, “Oh hells no! That bastard isn’t going to get away with this.” The passenger side door swung open almost on it’s own and you were halfway across the street when Dean stopped you.

“(Y/N/N), (Y/N/N)” he called for you to look at him as he had a tight grip on your arm. “I know you want to do something but they are not my problem. But you are my problem and you are going to get yourself or someone else hurt if you just go in there busting down the door like this is a normal case.”

“Yeah, I’m going to hurt someone. I’m going to break his face! Now let me go!” You ordered.

“No! I’m not letting go.” He barked back.

“But I can save her, Dean!” Your voice broke and tears started to bead at the bottom of your eyes.

“Hey, hey, she’s not your mom. She’s not your mom.” He shushed you enveloping you in a big hug. The memories of your bastard step-dad flooded your brain, the amount of times he hit you and hit your mom.  You were glad that he was dead but why did he have to take your mom too when that damn demon possessed him.  “She’s not your mom.” he continued to say over and over again.

“I know but I just need to help her.” You felt powerless like you did all those years ago.  Dean understood, he really did.

“We have to finish the case first but then we can do this smart.” He looked you directly in the eyes before his large thumb wiped away a tear that had ruined your mascara.  

“Smart?” you questioned with a smile.

“Yeah, smart. I gotta plan but I need to talk with Sammy about it, ok?”

“Yeah, Ok!” you said in a high pitched voice.  

It took a couple of days before you and Winchesters could gank the werewolf that was causing so much chaos around this sleepy little neighborhood. You found out who lived in apartment 3G, Sam and Dean followed Mr. Gerald when he left for work one morning.  You on the other hand went to go see Mrs. Gerald, she came to door right away with so much makeup on it was no wonder no one ever suspected her abuse.  “Mrs. Gerald, hi, my name is (Y/N). I walk my dog down your block every night.” You lied to her but it had to be believable.

“That’s nice dear. Please call me Helen.” She greeted as she ushered you in.

“I’ve seen your husband hit you from the window.” You just came out and said it.

“I don’t know what you are talking about.” Helen went on. “My Allen has never hit me.” She tried to say holding her head up high.

“It was approximately 9:45 on Tuesday night and 8:30 on Thursday was when I personally witnessed him slap your face hard enough that you couldn’t stand.  Now tell me again he hasn’t hit you.” You voice was stern and she nodded listening to you confront her. “Look I’m here to help.  I need to you to pack a bag, there’s a room waiting for you at the woman’s shelter. I’ll take you.”

“No, no I can’t leave him.” she protested.

“Yes, and you must.” You guided her to her bedroom. “Only take what you need. I promise you can figure out the rest.  It is surprisingly easy to start over.”

“Why are you doing this?” she asked.

“Helen, I’m doing this because I wished someone would have done this for my mom.  She’s gone now, my step-father killed her with his bear hands before he killed himself.” With that being said out loud, she knew what you were talking about, you had been there and this was probably only going to continue to get worse.  You didn’t want her to continue to get hurt by this man.

She stopped fighting you and let you take her to the shelter.  When you got there, you gave her all your cash, it would be enough for her to get a small apartment somewhere far far away from Mr. Gerald.  The rest would be up to her, you hoped she’d press charges and get divorced from the man but this was a start at least she was safe from him tonight.

Dean and Sam got into the front seat of the car, “How did go?” Dean asked you, turning his body towards you in the back seat.

“Better than I expected.  I just pray she doesn’t take him back. What happened to your hand?” you questioned, looking at his bloody knuckle.

“Oh that, um…” Dean looked over at Sam for a good answer for why they deviated from the plan. “Things got a little physical with our new friend Allen. You see.”

“How physical?” You wanted to scold him but you wanted to do the same thing to Allen a few nights ago.

“Well he’s not going to be winning any beauty contests anytime soon.” Dean said with a chuckle.  “(Y/N/N), what do you say we get out of here? I think we’ve overstayed our welcome.”  

“I think that is a great idea, Winchester and I think we all earned ourselves some bacon cheeseburgers for lunch.” You suggested piquing someone’s interest.

“Oh yeah, double bacon for me.” Dean added.

“Sammy? How about you, burgers sound good?” You asked, laying your arms on the front seat turning to him showing your toothy grin.

“Sure, what the hell? I guess this is my cheat day.” He was never one to resist your ideas especially when you were all smiles.

You leaned back chuckling at the two most adorable men you had ever worked with and truly satisfied that you had made a difference this week.

I love all the likes and reblogs but I really do want your feedback. Please leave me a comment; let me know what worked or what didn’t. If you hated it let me know what I could do different. It may determine how I write my next fic.

“Give it to me! You know you want to!” Writer winks at reader.

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[tkwrtnewsfeed]

Newsfeed #86 August 13, 2017 (13 Úrimë)

ICYMI: Fantastic Credits and Where to Give Them.

I worked in Hollywood for 4 /12 years and one of my good friends is an intellectual property lawyer I’ve known since then--well over 16 years--with a client list that includes none other than Maurice (Kevin Kline) in the live-action film “Beauty and the Beast” starring Emma Watson.

Image: © 2017. Walt Disney Studios. Beauty and the Beast. All Rights Reserved.

(My attorney could sue anyone spreading salacious rumors about me and my work should he choose to do so, but I’m not a jerk. But he does know about it; he’s good at what he does--he’s successfully sued Google).

Translation: I’m at least 3-7 degrees of knowing how to give credit to artists. Otherwise, my attorney/friend would have me shot at sunrise. Would you like to learn how to do it without being a pain about it and spreading unscrupulous rumors? Let me explain Copyright © from a legal perspective from 30 years of working with copyrighted materials with an actual attorney that specializes in artistic intellectual properties with 40 years of experience that includes everything from visual art, music, film, books and has won a major copyright infringement case against Google (among other high profile cases) for major A-List celebrities.

1) Whatever you do is copyrighted from the moment you put it on paper by law. You don’t have to bitch about anyone stealing it perpetually. HOWEVER, you can’t complain about someone posting it anywhere in public (Pinterest, mostly) if YOU post it anywhere in public. If you share it, even asking people not to, it is already public and can go anywhere. What people CAN’T do is SAY it’s theirs. If they explicitly say “I did this” and they didn’t, you have a case. Otherwise, it is NOT copyright infringement if someone posts it anywhere. 

It would be nice if EVERYONE would give credit--I try to do it if I do or link back to the original place I find something and that is time consuming if the work is not located where it came from (dead-link) or it was digitally stolen--something my attorney told me about a couple years ago. I see it all the time. But, if you make it public, it is assumed to be public. It is NOT ASSUMED to not to be copyrighted. Put that cute copyright sign on it and let it go. You should have the original as collateral, I would think. That’s the only way no one can claim it and you can properly bitch about it w/o an official U.S. Copyright.

2) I PUT “Images: ©2012, 2013, 2014. Warner Brothers Pictures. The Hobbit: The Unexpected Journey, The Hobbit: Desolation of Smaug, The Hobbit: Battle of the Five Armies. All Rights Reserved.” on pretty much every post for The Kingdom of the Woodland Realm Trilogy because the photos I use BELONG to Warner Brothers/New Line Cinema/Wingnut Productions. Altered by someone online doesn’t change this UNLESS the person altering got permission from WB/NLC/Wingnut to alter it. Otherwise, it is their property and they can sue anyone that alters their work and put their name on it if they so choose. I post this disclaimer to keep from GETTING sued--even though I don’t alter the photo in anyway. Gifs are the same way and currently seen as pirated these days and are subject to suit as with screen caps. 

The reason no one gets sued over screen caps and gifs is because no one is making $$ off of them. You only get credit for edit not the work of the camera guy that was paid to shoot a film and the studio that owns his camera work. Unlike Marvel that has begun digital copyrights on some photos (you post something on Facebook, it automatically gives credit). The minute someone charges for any altered screen caps, gifs or photos and calls it their own work, that is the legal definition of copyright infringement.

Without proper credit, you are open to lawsuit by the studios, photographers. I go out of my way to avoid altered anything because then I could get sued even if I didn’t alter it--even if I am not making money from it. Which brings me to the next point:

3) IF I was making $$ and using someone’s art, then I could get sued. That means I’m not paying the original person their due (licensing fees) for use of their work. THAT includes my original story that uses and will use a great number of canonical characters from Tolkien. If I want to turn The Kingdom of the Woodland Realm Trilogy into a book, I have to do it the right way--which is get permission from the Tolkien Estate (I’ve had the paperwork since 2016 when it was shown to me by a member of the Mythopoeic Society--they are close to the Estate). They can allow me to publish after negotiations of paying for use of the characters or force me to put “not affiliated with the Tolkien Estate” and/or change names if they so choose.

Example of a Tolkien allowed to go to press with “non-affiliated” tag of Tolkien. It’s clean, so the Estate probably doesn’t mind so much. Not all of these “non-affiliated” books are bad or not liked by the Estate. The label is not exclusively a non-endorsement--there might be something unknown about as to why it’s there.

Example of a book with the coveted “Tolkien Trademark” and approved by the Estate--spoke with one of the authors; pretty cool.

You want this, you better have your %^$* together. Yes, they give them out, but they are particular--do it right: legal and above board.

I’m not making any revenue off of TKWR Trilogy but if I were, I wouldn’t be using film photos. I would HIRE an artist to tag along over to the final phase of getting this book turned into something sold on Amazon or in Barnes & Noble. Then, the artist of choice would get paid for their work properly. They could use the work from this book anywhere they wanted and it would be protected forever--example of this would be Ted Nasmith.

© Ted Nasmith. All Rights Reserved.

Due to all the rumors about people say I’m doing because they have nothing better to do with their time (regardless of the obvious), I decided not to share any Tolkien Fan Art, use and Tolkien Fan Art or consider any Tolkien Fan Art unsolicited by anyone on Tumblr, Pinterest, DeviantArt or anywhere else that isn’t done by anyone not represented by an agent or a lawyer. If I so choose, artists will have to go through my lawyer--not me. After today, there will be no artists’ works mentioned or shared by me anywhere again until I’m done with the entire trilogy--unless idiots stop spreading lies and rumors (they won’t so don’t hold your breath).

I discovered a lot of fan art pertaining to my book and I could say something, but I’m not a jerk and I’m not complaining. I’m also not making any $$ of the book. It is assumed to be public but not assumed not to be copyrighted--which it actually is (ask my attorney).

I will do something should I decide to take any number of offers to publish after a lot of legalities I will go through. For now, I’ll just watch to make sure no one’s claiming my work--my words--as their own (and some have which is why I sent the book to witnesses so I have a case and proof should I do something later on). The book will change in the final form as I edit; it already has with additions and changes in Book II: The Saga of Thranduil and Book I: The Epic of Eryn Galen and Book III: The Last Tale of Legolas Lasgalen.

I love artists here, but a few ruined it for everyone. I’ve had artists wanting to illustrate Book II: The Saga of Thranduil, but now that’s been narrowed to only one that doesn’t accuse me of salacious and reputation-altering deeds I’ve never done. Having a friend that’s a respected and experienced intellectual properties attorney with connections in the U.S. and Europe that has worked within the industry successfully for 30+ years with a stellar reputation protecting my works--all of them including screenplays, poetry, stage plays--makes it possible for me to help protect an artist of my choosing (and he’s already done wonders for clothing designer friend of mine in Florida that designed things for my film project HERETIC: THE LEGEND OF AKHENATEN*). He loves protecting properties and takes referrals. I’m not helping anyone spreading rumors.

Thank you, Captain Obvious. That was obvious.

I told someone once that I would, but they thought it better to insult me rather than allowing me to connect them to a publisher I knew that could have looked at their work without the long query process. You make connections in the business and it’s good to keep them and I do.

I live by the motto: “The ass you kick today may be the ass you kiss tomorrow” so I try to be nice and respectful to everyone--even I have to draw a line.

[By the way, there will be a LOT of versions coming for The Kingdom of the Woodland Realm Trilogy. This one is the Annotated Version--complete with all the notes and references and explanations of the use of Tolkien to create the entire trilogy. Let’s just say it took 4 hours to do the first bibliography and I just added more books. This one (which will be done for both the original version and extended version) will take years.]

But if you don’t want to be seen as an artist, it’s a safe bet you won’t think pinning = stealing. Pinterest is nothing more than a bulletin board for what people like--it’s not supposed to deal in copyright protection like YouTube or Instagram where you are actually legally protected by copyright law. If they were, a lot of stuff they still allow would be subject to lawsuit against them--not the pinners. They blame pinners to keep themselves from being liable for allowing copyrighted properties. I’ve already deleted my Art page of potential artists for The Kingdom of he Woodland Realm Trilogy. I’ve gotten blocked on Pinterest by people here on Pinterest over pins I re-pinned years ago over what they don’t know--probably out of spite. I don’t mind and don’t care. My job is to finish my work to the best of my ability and move on to the next.

Writing has been my life since the age of two. Only an act of GOD is going to keep me from doing what I love. I write because I love it. If it’s liked, I’m happy. If its not, that isn’t a deterrent for me to stop. Like any artist, I want to protect my work--but I’m going to do it the right way and I’m going to give credit due when credit is due if I eventually use an artist for The Kingdom of the Woodland Realm Trilogy. Full Stop--end of sentence. There is nothing left to say. I have to do it right because I have a too many people in the business watching me and if I’m not doing what is right, they aren’t going to want to work with me and that lessens the work I put in to write this and it will not be able to help a fellow artist along the way. My attorney acts as a free attorney for artists that can’t afford to hire expensive attorneys for protection because he believes in protecting the rights of artists and we often work together on helping artist connect with attorneys that work for free for all artists (Volunteer Lawyers for the Arts).

I know, that won’t keep some people from being jerks--I just wanted to put it out there.

*HERETIC: THE LEGEND OF AKHENATEN by Jaynaé Miller (me) is copyrighted by the U.S. Copyright Office. Any unauthorized use is strictly prohibited without prior consent for the next 100 years. In other words, I could sue a major studio if they don’t buy it from me. This is a wholly LEGAL and Recognized (and stamped) copyright. It doesn’t make the original copyright less potent, it just makes your work recognized by law and gives you further protection for your works. This includes photography, visual art, books, film, plays, videos, logos. Being a copyrighted work, it is also subject to the Berne Agreement (World Copyright Organization) guidelines for international use. With this, it wouldn’t matter where you work is posted, if someone said it was theirs, it’s a lawsuit waiting to happen. Once you put a stamp on it, by law, it is already protected by the government as it is being sent via the federal government--and it is protected from loss of materials sent as well (USPS is good and finding it, too; get a tracking number and it is found faster).

I know all this stuff because I work with copyrighted and trademarked things since I wrote my first opera and lyrics for which my music teacher taught me about this in fifth grade. I’ve written adaptations with permission of the original writers. The More You Know depends on how much you care to know.--J.

[thedeadflag]

Looking For the Magic (Pt 2)

Tentative title for Option B, the magical Witch Fic WIP one-shot I’ve been struggling to finish. I’ll be posting blocks of this  with the tags #lookingforthemagic and #witchfic, in case you don’t want a few thousand words muddying up your dash. I think mobile still doesn’t use the ‘read more’ function, so I figure this would be as good a workaround for folks.

Content Warning (for the story as a whole): transphobia, cissexism, physical assault, misogyny, sexual content

(Part 1)  Part 2 under the cut.

10 months later

Anya hated annual gatherings of the covens. They were always loud, busy, and far too political for her to stomach when all she wanted to do was enjoy the solstice. Attendance was generally mandatory, however, so having Lexa at her side was at least a small comfort.

Usually, Lexa would stay with her fiancée, but apparently Costia was staying elsewhere, leaving them to use Lexa's small cabin a few miles from the gathering site. It was a step up from a hotel, where she could run into those she butted heads with or who held ill will towards her.

After all, with her history, she didn't exactly have many friends.

"How long do I have to be present for, tomorrow?" Anya asked again, knowing the number, but just wanting another verbal confirmation. It helped when it wasn't just her running the numbers over and over again.

"Should only be five hours you'll have to stay for. Might reach seven, but unlikely, so long as Costia's schedule runs tightly." Lexa restated for about the fourteenth time since they started the road trip together. "With the grounds as large as they are, and your abilities, and the number of witches that will be there, there's no reason you'll have to encounter Clarke any longer than is absolutely necessary."

It would be a refreshing change after the last few events, like back in October where they'd literally brawled after having been stuck in the same area for a little under two hours. As much as she hated to admit, the other blonde had a mean left hook, and with the rest of her powers, her nemesis might one day get the better of her.

"Good. The last thing anyone needs is me putting her up in flames instead of burning her with my wit." Anya admitted, knowing that as much as the idea could seem palatable on rare occasions of severe frustration or hardship, it'd end up with her exile from the coven, and blood on her hands. Clarke certainly wouldn't appreciate dying, and Lexa would lose a friend in the woman as well, as unlikely and upsetting as that friendship was.

Kicking every square inch of Clarke's perfectly round ass after another potential attempt to poison her? Fine. Killing her? Not so much. With how things were escalating between them, Anya wasn't sure their next blow-up wouldn't end with someone being maimed. If things got much worse, they could both eventually get killed. And like hell if she'd come up on the losing end of that, but it'd be terrible anyways, regardless of her feelings.

Not that she still had feelings for Clarke that weren't involved with the vitriolic fury she felt for the woman. That would be absurd. Ridiculous. Masochistic, perhaps.

"Don't be so dramatic, Anya, it doesn't suit you." Lexa snarked from the driver's seat. "Besides, violence is the last thing we need between you both. It's long since gotten ridiculous, and I know you don't like fighting with her."

"I've told you before, I didn't start the fire." Anya insisted, making the executive decision to ignore Lexa's quip about her past feelings for the woman. Key word being 'past'. Sure, she hated fighting with Clarke, it brought up memories she wanted to forget, and she much preferred fighting people who were putting humanity at risk, not some aggravating blonde from her coven who she was supposed to protect, if anything.

Sure, she could appreciate how Clarke's hair always looked perfect, how every time Clarke laughed her eyes got as warm as a summer afternoon, and how the sheer sound of the woman's laughter could have her heart blooming with fondness. She could appreciate that Clarke was creatively diplomatic even without using her affinity, striking a keen balance between kind and ruthless that was remarkably efficient, and showed off the woman's clear intelligence and wit. She could appreciate a lot of things about Clarke, but it didn't change that the woman almost killed her, literally, and that kind of put a damper on any feelings she might have hypothetically had for her.

So perhaps she didn't like fighting with Clarke, but it wasn't like she could just let her guard down and allow Clarke to kill her. Anya wouldn't roll over and die just because Clarke Griffin desired it.

Her words earned a quick, heavy sigh from her cousin. "Please don't start in with the musical puns. You know I can't handle them." Lexa said, helping Anya realize that she almost made a Billy Joel pun without thinking about it. She was almost proud of herself.

"Shut up, you love it." Anya was about to throw out another pun when they made their way into a small clearing, a cottage nestled in at the edge of the tree line.

Lexa slowed and pulled into the short driveway, stopping just shy of the front porch. As soon as Anya had the door open, Lexa's cell rang. Her cousin lifted a finger and took the call as Anya stepped out, waiting for the other woman to finish up, Lexa only letting out mumbled words and tiny sighs. If Anya had to guess, something wasn't going to plan with the gathering's prep.

Lexa pocketed her phone with a huff, staring hard at the wheel for a moment before flitting those green eyes' Anya's way. "Nia Frost sabotaged the herbs for tomorrow morning's ritual. I'm going to have to travel back to Costia's storage shed to grab replacements for what they couldn't salvage."

Nia Frost was a royal pain in their asses, constantly sabotaging gatherings and other events in hopes that enough instability would shift favor for her to call for a vote and use her reputation and history on the council to unseat Lexa as the head of the coven.

Sure, it'd never happen, but it made just about every major event a damn nuisance to manage. "You want me to come with?"

"Nah. Stay here. I shouldn't be more than two hours." Lexa offered with a flick of her wrist. "Get food started, I know you're hungry, and I made sure to stock up."

Anya didn't need to be told twice, her stomach having been rumbling for the past half hour.

The cottage was small, with an open concept kitchen-slash-living room, along with a bathroom, and two bedrooms. Just cozy enough to be her style without feeling too cramped for two people.

She quickly dropped her bags by the living room couch and made her way to the kitchen to get a handle on what kind of food they had on hand. It only took a moment for her to decide to make a pizza bread bowl.

Nothing wrong with getting the weekend off to a tasty start.

"I'm really looking forward to this. God, it's been what, four months since we've had a weekend alone together?" Clarke asked, watching the trees blur by. "I mean, you know I love Lexa, but it's nice to just have some one on one time with you, Costia."

"I feel that, I've missed hanging out with you too, Clarke. It'll be nice to finally catch up." Costia answered, smiling at the incoming text on her HUD telling her that Lexa just dropped off the necessary herbs. "And really, I think Lexa and Anya needed some time alone this weekend. Anya hasn't been in a good place for a while."

"When has she ever? She's always been a frosty bitch. Even as a kid." Clarke shot back, instincts not quite reaching the better part of her brain fast enough to cut off her words. "You know what I mean, she only ever hung out with Lexa as a kid. And no one liked her pert little butt when she came around again. I don't even know why she stuck here after the whole vote debacle."

Costia's sigh was predictable. Honestly, the woman had a heart of gold and the patience of a saint. That was the only rational explanation for Costia's soft spot for Anya. "I know you hate her, Clarke, but she's had a raw deal."

"You know people can hate her for good reason, not because of what she is. Deep down, she's not a good person, she's not trustworthy. You reap what you sow." Clarke argued, sinking back into her seat, trying to ignore that tiny part of her brain that help whispering that she was wrong, trying to slow her breathing and control her temper. Costia hated when she got angry, and while Anya was a point of fury for her, the least she could do for her friend was remain mostly calm.

"I've told you before about my thoughts. That hasn't changed. All I can hope is that you two don't nearly kill yourselves this weekend." Costia stated rather diplomatically.

Clarke grumbled and stared back out the window, knowing she probably looked petulant, but not quite caring when it was all she could do to contain her emotions at her recollection of the gathering in late October. "She threw the first punch last time around."

"Because you poisoned her drink." Her friend shot back easily, only adding fuel to the fire that her memory brought back.

"Because she soaked and froze my cowl!"

"That was a full four hours before she arrived."

"So you say, but you don't know, because she arrived alone in October."

"You know Ontari does that to people all the time. She did it to me last year as a simple prank."

Clarke let out a huff and reached across the median to grab at Costia's arm. "Look, we're only going to get upset, so let's change the subject. What are we having for dinner?"

Costia let out a hard laugh. "We'll just wait and see what we've got, honestly. Lexa did the grocery shopping for us, so who even knows with her, especially at this time of the year?"

Just hearing about grocery shopping had her stomach growling. She supposed that was the price of not eating for over half a day. Clarke was about to whine about having to wait when they found their way out of the forest, slowing as they made their way up a curved driveway, stopping at the front porch.

The moment Costia shifted the SUV into park, the woman's phone went off. Clarke kept her gaze on her friend as Costia pulled her phone free and answered the call.

"Hey, Lexa, what's...oh...she what? She did WHAT?! I...oh cheese and crackers, okay...okay, yeah. We just got here so I can...yeah. Convene the council, yeah, we can finally cut her off. I know...I know...it'll be okay. I will. See you soon." Costia spoke, giving Clarke the distinct feeling that Nia Frost did something again, if not by her words then the sheer frustration and exhaustion written across Costia's face.

"What happened?" Clarke asked, patiently waiting as Costia gathered her thoughts.

"Nia Frost set fire to some of the coven's artifacts, and some of her supposed acolytes attacked a few new initiates to the coven. We're convening the council to pass judgment on her." Costia let out, following her words with a heavy sigh as she glanced at Clarke apologetically. "I have to go do this, but I promise I'll be back in two, three hours. Is that okay?"

Clarke rolled her eyes and pulled Costia into a hug. "Of course it is. We have a shot at finally being rid of that devil woman. Finish up over there, I'll have something for you to eat when you get back."

"You're a life saver, Clarke. I'll see you soon." Her friend called out as Clarke exited the vehicle and shut the passenger door. She waved Costia off as the SUV reversed out of the driveway and headed back into the forest.

As soon as it was out of sight, she headed up to the cottage and let herself in, shutting the door behind her. Clarke was just finishing taking off her boots when it registered that she could hear footsteps heading her way, no attempt to mask their sound by the owner.

"Hey, I didn't hear you pull up. How'd it go with the..." Anya spoke, freezing on the spot as she rounded the corner and came into view, Clarke already having stilled at the sound of her enemy's voice.

It was that little bit of extra notice that had her tossing down one of her spell-bombs full of the ingredients to cast her usual hex, boosting her affinity to where she could take on a fellow witch with any sort of advantage. She was just reaching towards Anya when the woman lifted a slender hand, palm up, the same motion she used to channel heat into a fireball.

Except there was no fire a half second later, or a full second later, or two seconds later, regardless of Anya's incantations. Not wanting to miss the opportunity that was being handed to her, Clarke put all her focus on Anya and channeled her abilities. "Do not move except for breathing and blinking, Anya."

Clarke waited a few seconds to gauge if her spell worked, the woman still and silent at the entrance to the kitchen. Cautiously, she approached, stepping into her nemesis' personal space, raising a hand to the woman's cheeks. Soft, freshly moisturized...lovely...she thought aimlessly, before snapping her focus back into place. All the better to slap... She corrected, giving the woman's cheeks a few light smacks.

Not even a flinch.

The laughter that escaped her was unbidden, but it was hard to care when, for whatever reason, Anya was powerless, and she had full control, at least until her spell wore off. It wasn't even her birthday for another three weeks.

Clarke stepped past Anya as she finally began to register the glorious smells coming from the kitchen, now that her fear was fading. She crouched in front of the oven and stared in through the small window at the food being prepped. "Oh goddess, I haven't had pizza in months. You shouldn't have."

It took a moment for it all to sink in, but Clarke rose from her knees and turned towards Anya. "You thought you were staying here with Lexa. I thought I was staying with Costia." She spoke as she put together her thoughts, trying to figure out what was going on. Clarke looked around and found a window in the kitchen. As she suspected, as she pulled at it, there was no opening it. It only took a few seconds to check the front door, the slab of wood not budging in the least. They were warded in, clearly Costia's doing. "Well...I guess it'll be the two of us for a while. Just like old times, huh?"

She shoulder-checked Anya on her way back to the kitchen. Without any control over her body, the woman tumbled sharply to the ground in a heap. "You didn't mind the floor back then. I'm sure you'll get comfy down there, Anya." Clarke added as she checked the timer for the pizza. Four minutes. "I don't know why they set us up like this, but them cutting off your powers and allowing me mine? Looks like your cousin finally chose a side. I don't blame her."

After all, Clarke wasn’t the one who had nearly torn the coven in half almost a full year ago. It wasn't Clarke who was so malicious as to disclose a very personal secret about another witch in the coven just to start drama and try to get a leg up, harming that witch's reputation almost irreparably.

Anya only had herself to blame.

And Clarke? Well, she had a feeling she was going to have a decent evening.

Anya lay crumpled on the hardwood floors, nose pressed uncomfortably against the ground from the awkward distribution of weight after she'd fallen. She'd maybe feel a bit humiliated if her heart wasn't already completely full of anger.

There were far too many things to be angry about to feel humiliated.

"Oh my goddess, this is delicious. Maybe you have one redeeming quality, I'll give you that." Clarke moaned, clearly enjoying the pizza bread bowl Anya had been looking forward to. It was agony knowing Clarke was enjoying the food she'd made for herself and Lexa.

It was agony knowing she was stuck in the cottage with Clarke, some harebrained plan of Lexa and Costia's for whatever reason. It was agony that she was powerless while Clarke could flaunt her abilities freely.

It was agony not knowing how to exit the situation. It was agony knowing that she was at Clarke's mercy.

Hell, it was agony how appealing Clarke's voice alone could be if she wasn't paying attention to the sheer hatred it directed at her.

And all of that agony only made Anya angrier and angrier, seething with a colossal fury that lay roiling under her placid exterior.

"Don't worry, I'll leave you leftovers for when you're feeling up to eating. Maybe I'll even set you up on the couch since the second bedroom is warded off." Clarke snarked, footsteps trailing into the living room area. "By now you must be feeling betrayed. I know I would."

Anya slowed her blink and tried to focus as she fought to will herself out of Clarke's control. It was all for naught, but Clarke only had so many pre-prepped little spell orb things. Probably only enough to last a day or maybe a little more. Patience had never been Anya's greatest virtue, but this time around, she'd make it work.

And sure, betrayal was something that had crossed her mind, but she knew Lexa. Lexa wouldn't do that. Lexa wouldn't send her to her death. Lexa wouldn't choose Clarke over family.

So no, she didn't feel betrayed by Lexa. Not that she could relay that to Clarke and interrupt the girl's monologue. There was a reason for everything, she just didn't understand it all yet. "See, I know the feeling. It's like a poison, burning through your stomach lining and up your esophagus, bleeding out to corrode your lungs and heart while it steals your words, until there's nothing but tears and anger left." Her nemesis continued with more than a little bite in her tone.

If she had the power to roll her eyes, she would have. After all, what did Clarke know about betrayal?  The woman was a well-loved and immensely beautiful prodigy with rare abilities that the coven coveted. Clarke was practically bred for power, only suffering a minor stumble or two en route to where she was now.

Clarke wasn't the one who had been betrayed by someone she thought could be a friend, leading to a landmark vote that would have exiled her had Lexa not made a number of political promises to ensure a majority ruling in Anya's favor. Clarke wasn't the one who was openly betrayed by about half of her coven. Clarke wasn't the one who had her womanhood and connection to the Goddess attacked and doubted.

Whatever Clarke knew about betrayal, the other blonde was still to blame for Anya's hardships. She was still the reason why Anya was no longer well accepted in the coven, and probably never would be.

"I figure I'll let you stew on that. But there's plenty of night ahead of us. Don't get too comfortable down there." Clarke called out, making Anya hope that she'd be out of the other woman's control sooner rather than later. She'd just need to be smart about it when she did.

Hopefully, when opportunity came calling, she'd be able to take advantage. Otherwise, she was well and truly fucked.

All things considered, pizza really did make everything better. She was trapped in an enclosed space with her nemesis, all her history right up in her face, not sure when she'd be free. But damn if the pizza wasn't tasty enough to bring a smile to her face even in the worst of times.

At least she could low-key torment Anya, though. Being friends with Lexa had a lot of perks on top of the woman being a wonderful individual, but it gave a glimpse into their coven leader's relationships, including some pet peeves. Learning that Anya hated Costia's favourite guilty pleasure, One Tree Hill, was something that had pretty easily embedded itself into her long term memory.

And besides, while it was arguably the most heterosexual show she'd watched in years, it was a little comically outdated, and had some cute actors and actresses. So marathoning it while enjoying Anya's pizza was a nice little twist.

"I didn't know you could shoot pool."

"There's a lot you don't know about me."

"The writing on this show is so cheesy, don't you think, Anya?" Clarke asked taking another bite of a long cooled off slice of the pizza bowl. "Always pushing for cliffhangers and manufacturing drama out of the blue. Creating this big love triangle between Lucas, his brother, and Peyton, and resolving it, only to start one with him, Peyton, and this other chick. Brooke, I think. Honestly, I understand why you hate it so much...but I kind of still want to know what happens."

"Like what?"

"Like...I love it in the summer when there's heat lightning at night..."

Clarke turned enough to peer over the couch at the heap of Anya's body a few feet away, eyes maybe lingering on how Anya's ass was raised into the air a little from the way she'd fallen. "You could probably do that on a good day, couldn't you? With those fancy elemental spells of yours?" Clarke asked, letting out a laugh at the thought of Anya's eyes going white like Storm from X-Men. "You'd probably rather spend your energy trying to strike me down instead."

There was a time when Clarke thought differently of her nemesis. When she'd actually thought Anya was good enough to have even a shred of empathy. "You know, I think this is the first time I've had you trapped and silent for any real length of time. Gotta say it's a nice change of pace."

Clarke paused the show and rotated around to peer straight out at Anya, or at least her lump of a body. "Usually we're arguing or fighting, throwing punches, all that stuff. Maybe this could be useful." She started, taking a sip of her water before continuing. "See, I've wracked my brain for ages, and I still don't understand why you hated me enough to do what you did. Did you know what you'd find when you called me over, or were you just looking for weaknesses that night?"

Clarke set her drink down and propped herself up on her elbows on the couch backrest. "Because I really was freezing cold that night. I was scared of what would happen either way, and the c...this girl waves me over, convinces me to share her blankets, warms me up...literally." Clarke continued, knowing she was making herself vulnerable by speaking in such detail, but maybe some closure would help. Maybe finally talking about the elephant in the room would help.  Anya not being able to interrupt her or argue back did make it easier. "You amazed me that night. The girl who was always cold and abrasive to everyone was sweet with me. Stared up so softly at me, with so much warmth. Showed so much patience. And despite all the alarm bells ringing in my head, I wanted to believe I'd found someone who could be safe. Who I wouldn't have to be worried about. Who I could completely let in one day, for once in my life."

Clarke rubbed at her eyes, all those old emotions suddenly so fresh, vibrant enough to bring on a swell of tears. "But it was all an act for you. I didn't think anyone could be so heartless to fake all of that so well, with such ruthlessness and..."

"...up shut up shut..." The low sound of mumbling from across the room had her voice catching in her throat and her hand reaching for another of her orbs. "Shit...body's stiff as hell. But seriously, shut the fuck up about that night. You know nothing." Anya bit out as she very slowly rolled onto her back, tongue wetting her lips as she winced in pain.

Whether it was Anya finally breaking through her control after a few long hours, or the woman refusing to take responsibility for what she did, Clarke suddenly found her heart racing and adrenaline pumping, a ten month old fury coursing through her veins. She was off the couch in a second.

The first kick to Anya's midsection wasn't nearly satisfying enough despite sending her nemesis groaning and physically reeling. "I know everything, Anya! I always have, so what exactly is it that you're hiding from, huh?" She asked, glaring down at her nemesis as she swung her leg hard at Anya, the woman just barely rolling out of the way enough to minimize the impact. "Make a miscalculation? Use the wrong person as a stepping stool to power?"

Clarke took hold of Anya's jacket from the back and barreled her into the kitchen island with a heavy crash. With all of the furniture apparently protected by Costia's wards, Anya's head and shoulder collided with a surface with zero percent give, the impact bringing a sharp cry of pain from her nemesis' throat.

"How could you? I was scared, and vulnerable, and you just saw a damned mark!" Clarke yelled, lifting her gaze to the ceiling, unable to look at Anya for fear that she'd go even further off the handle than she already was. "How could you tell everyone about my sexsomnia after you promised?! You promised me! You were the first person to tell me it wasn't my fault! That I wasn't disgusting or wrong! And it was all a lie! Seven months of taunts and slut shaming and for what?! Did you and your friends get a good laugh in? 'Poor Clarke, the coven's sl...'"

Suddenly, she was stumbling and falling backwards, head bouncing off the cupboard under the sink. She'd been too busy verbally railing on Anya to realize the woman had angled her body to go on the attack. Knowing the combat prowess of her nemesis, Clarke braced for impact, raising her arms to cover her head, but one, two, three seconds passed without an attack.

Clarke lowered her hands quickly enough to watch Anya stagger off towards the bedroom. It was the first time in her history of knowing Anya that she'd seen the woman do anything resembling a retreat.

"Anya! Anya come back here! We're not done!" Clarke yelled out as she got to her feet and chased after her nemesis, just reaching the bedroom doorway as the lock slipped into place. Not thinking, she pounded at the door, immediately recoiling her hand in pain from how hard and unforgiving the surface was. "Anya, you know if I want to, I can make you open this door!"

Clarke felt like she was standing on the edge of a knife as she waited for a response; for the door to open, for Anya to yell back, anything.

There was something happening on the other side of the door, she could hear a small, muffled sound, but she couldn't make out what it was. "Anya, come out here or let me in, your choice."

Clarke heard three dull thumps and then a long stretch of silence. She was breathless in anticipation, waiting, waiting, waiting, until the click of the lock disengaged. Clarke wasn't sure why she hesitated, hand shaking over the handle of the door for a moment before she turned and pushed it open.

There were a lot of things she expected to see when she opened the door. Hell, she maybe expected a punch or a kick, or even Anya rushing to tackle her to the ground.

Anya standing a few feet away, looking ready to go to war with a kitchen knife in her hand immediately had Clarke reaching for one of her spell orbs, but she found her hand hovering over it when she caught Anya's gaze.

Anya's flat expression hardly concealed the anguish in her eyes. As ready as Anya looked for a fight on a physical level, barring the dropped wounded shoulder and limply hanging bad arm of course, Clarke knew that when the fight left an opponent's eyes, it was over.

That left a pressing question: what the hell happened between the kitchen and the woman escaping into the bedroom?

Ten months.

All Anya could see when she looked into Clarke's wary blue eyes was nearly a year of misplaced aggression. Nearly a year of pain and sorrow that should have been avoided. Ten months entirely wasted because it was a complete mistake they'd been manipulated into. Almost a lethal one.

For ten months, Anya had wondered what had made Clarke snap and try relentlessly to ruin her life, and to learn what it was all about had her realizing that she wasn't who Clarke wanted to hurt, but she'd been hurt anyways. She'd lost time, energy, health, and a budding friendship.

She'd been a proxy for all the pain and suffering someone else deserved to feel, and as much as Clarke had wounded her, Anya understood betrayal. And Anya understood that with every second that passed, Clarke would come to intimately understand the truth of it all.

It didn't erase the past, and it didn't erase any of the trauma and isolation Anya had suffered across the past year, but she finally had some context. And finally, she might get some of her own answers. She chose, for the moment, to focus on whoever was responsible, even if she didn't have a name for them yet, because it almost certainly wasn't Clarke.  Just the way the woman spoke about her younger self had her feeling decently confident about that.

But even with all of that in mind, Clarke had always been a wildcard, so she had to be ready for a fight if it came. And if Clarke decided to use her power, then at least she would have gotten a hit in.

"What are you waiting for? Where's the fire from October?!" Clarke yelled, voice shaking as she took a step forward.

Anya waited until she was free enough from pain to speak steadily, keeping her breaths shallow to help ease the load on her ribs, knowing they were bruised at least. "I have honor, Clarke. I have never disclosed a secret in my life."

"Honor?!" Clarke blurted out with a hard laugh. "You punched me out of the blue last year!"

"You poisoned me. Made an attempt on my life. I was defending myself." Anya let out slowly before dropping the knife. It was getting a little heavy, and she had no use for it anyways.

Apparently, that was the wrong move, Clarke quickly dropping one of her orbs to the ground, shattering it and taking in the resulting fumes. "Pick up the knife, Anya."

Against her will, she felt her body move to a kneel and grab the knife. "Clarke, you aren't an imbecile, you..."

"Put it half an inch from your carotid. Keep it there." Clarke ordered, her good arm doing as it was told just as Anya willed herself back to her feet. "Don't come any closer."

"Wasn't planning to." A tired grunt escaped her as she slumped down onto the bed, feeling nearly all her energy leave her. "Real enemy's out there. Can't keep doing this."

"It couldn't be anyone else, Anya, you were the only one I..." Clarke insisted fervently, but Anya couldn't hear it. She couldn't take the vitriol being aimed at the girl she was a year ago, so full of hope and yearning for connection. Whoever or whatever she was now, her younger self was innocent and deserved better.

"Please don't..." Anya interjected, letting out a sigh before meeting Clarke's gaze again, stilling the advancing blonde in her tracks. "Don't talk about back then. I would never have...just don't."

Clarke shook her head angrily, even if a shaky hand went to run itself through blonde hair. "No, no, it had to be you, it had to be!"

"Clarke, I would never have hurt you. It was my duty to take care of you, I would never break that oath unless I was defending myself." She let out slowly and carefully, staring up at glossy panicked eyes. Eyes that only grew wider at her words. Goddess, why do her eyes have to be so damn pretty?

"No, you don't understand! If it wasn't you, then...then I've been hurting you for no reason! For...fuck, for almost a year, Anya!" Clarke yelled, tears of her own spilling down her cheeks as Anya swallowed hard and nodded. "If not you, then who was it?!"

Anya let out a tired huff and flopped backward onto the bed. "Pretty sure I'm concussed, Clarke. It stings when I breathe. Don't ask me to think right now." She shot back slowly, taking another painful swallow. "Someone would have had to have...have hearing abilities. Or...had to be invisible. Dunno."

"No one in the coven has any abilities or spells that enhance hearing, that's rare. And no...wait..." Clarke's rapid words stilled, violently catching in the blonde's throat, sending Clarke physically reeling backwards into a dresser. "Oh god, Echo..."

Anya's brain wasn't working at optimal capacity, needing an extra second or two, but she remembered the gangly girl with the dark circles under her eyes. A bit of a loner, later Nia Frost's acquaintance. Sort of creepy, the woman was mostly assigned work outside of their region. Anya had assumed it was diplomatic, to improve Echo's social skills as she'd had to endure herself once upon a time at her old coven, but they could have been more focused on subterfuge.  She thought she recalled that Echo could essentially teleport, but if it was actually the woman going invisible then there was a very different story playing out.

"Echo was in the bed closest to us. If she heard something and got up...and...oh goddess..." Clarke spoke, hand lifting to cover her mouth as her eyes glistened. Anya could sense Clarke reaching out to touch her before the other blonde moved a muscle.

"Don't touch me." Anya bit out as Clarke's hand descended towards her thigh. "All I need is...is an honest answer. To one question. I need you to think...really hard about it. Take your time and think back."

She stared up at Clarke, who, while entirely panicked and frazzles and practically emanating guilt and remorse, nodded along easily. "I'm ready."

"Did you out me?" She asked, ignoring Clarke's instinctual gasp and pushing past it. "Did...did you say anything that could have...maybe let someone suspect I was trans?"

Clarke just stared down at her, teary-eyed and mouth agape, as if she'd accused the woman of something monstrous. Well, sure, perhaps she halfway did, but if her question was filling in the blanks that Clarke's comments from earlier had with her, then maybe they were finally getting somewhere.

"Anya, I'm bi." Clarke stated sharply, as if that meant anything. She just raised an eyebrow at her fellow witch. "I would never out someone who shared something like that with me! How could you even think that?!"

Anya rolled her head to the side to face the pillows, feeling just about ready for some rest. "Bi people can be transphobic, Clarke. LGBT people can out each other, it happens all the time. Especially cis folks outing us. You...you were angry with me then. Wouldn't explain why you kept lashing out at me, so I didn't understand why, but you were. And then I was being called in to face the council and have my...my womanhood called into question, Clarke. It was admittedly an easy math equation...given you were the only one I'd told outside of Lexa and you were suddenly after my throat."

"Well, I didn't!" Clarke argued, that fact having already become clear to her.

Anya swallowed and let out a heavy breath. "Let's not forget you came to the same conclusion about me. So can you at least let me drop the knife and leave me alone?"

"Oh my goddess, I rescind any hold I have on you." Clarke blurted out, letting Anya toss the knife backwards, using her remaining energy to crawl up the bed and settle her head on a pillow. Credit to Costia for making Lexa buy such good bedding. "Anya..."

"Please leave..." It was with pure force of will that she managed to get the words out, the pain and exhaustion becoming too much for her to manage.

She heard shuffling behind her, her back turned to Clarke and all, but it was clear that the woman wasn't leaving the room. Instead, she watched blearily as Clarke rounded the bed and crawled up beside her, holding out a small flask. "I learned to carry these around a few years ago. It should help you heal."

Anya closed her eyes. "Don't make me beg any more than I already have, Clarke..."

"I'll leave you alone. Forever, if you want, just...just take this. I'm so sorry, and I need you to be okay, and...just please. Even if you're done with begging, I'm not. Please." Clarke pleaded, holding out the small wooden flask.

If it would get Clarke to go so she could mourn in peace, then so be it. She reached out and, after studying the flask for a moment, tilted her head enough to down the container's worth of liquid, wincing at the harsh bitter taste.

"I'm so sorry, Anya. I'm...I just..." Clarke stammered out before rushing off the bed, stopping just after the door frame. "I can speak words, but promises can't make you trust that I won't hurt you again. I only hope you'll let me prove that to you."

Anya shut her eyes and swallowed back the tears, wondering what might have been if not for the past year. It hurt hearing her old words repeated back to her, but maybe it was an olive branch. Maybe it was an attempt to make things right. Maybe it was a bit of hope that they could move past the pain and suffering between them towards something better.

Whatever it was, it had words tumbling out of her mouth that maybe Clarke hadn't earned yet, but maybe...deep down...she had faith the other blonde could live up to them and earn that trust, eventually.

"You can be a good person again, Clarke. Stop feeling guilty, start proving you're the woman you thought you were." Anya responded, voice weak and shaking. The resulting sob from the doorway, the careful shutting of the door, and fading footsteps all told her that it was safe now.

She was safe to let go now.

The weight of ten months of pain, ostracism, and failure was enormous, but maybe she had the time, maybe she had the space to let it all go as she clutched a nearby pillow and screamed into it.

Not ten months' worth. Not yet.

[captain-s-rogers]

Have A Little Faith In Me

(gif credit to the creator)

Part Three

Master List

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC // Clint Barton x OFC Word Count: 2,527 Warnings: none? A/N: Here’s the third part of the rewrite of my first ever Marvel series! Special thanks to the best bestie in the world, @arrowsandmixtapes​​ , for making sure all of my work isn’t absolute garbage! If you want to be added to my tag list please let me know! Feedback is cool :)

Sophia lost track of how many times she listened to Steve’s message over the next few days as her head and heart battled each other. Though she wanted to call him back, at least hear out his explanation, she refused to return the phone call and be the girl who caves to a guy only because he’s good-looking. 

“You could just call him back, ya know,” Lucy mentioned, as casually as possible, while the two women were having lunch.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Sophia speared a cucumber in her salad and crunched into it, pretending to be innocent of the subject at hand while also trying to convince herself that good looks was all she had seen in Steve the night of the public event. 

Lucy reached across the table and snatched Sophia’s phone. Sophia tried to stop her, but she wasn’t quite quick enough. 

“Sophia, it’s Steve. Steve Rogers. I’m so sorry about not making our date tonight. Something important came up and I couldn’t get out --” 

Sophia ignored Lucy’s knowing look, set down her fork and leaned over the table to snatch her phone back. She cut off the message and shoved the phone back in her purse. She went back to her salad as though she hadn’t practically crawled over the table in a public place. 

“I can’t call him back,” Sophia stated. “In case you forgot, Luce, he stood me up, then gave a vague, thoughtless excuse. Aren’t you the one who told me that men are only vague when they’re lying?”

Lucy rolled her eyes. “I said most guys. And anyway, is sitting here, repeatedly listening to the message and driving yourself absolutely insane, really any better than calling the guy back and going on one little date?” 

“Yes.” 

Lucy shook her head, taking a bite of her own salad. Since Sophia had apparently dug her heels in on the matter, she took the conversation in a slightly different direction. 

“You know, Colin in marketing has had his eye on you for a while. Why don’t you accept his offer?” 

“Because I’m not looking for a date,” Sophia replied. “It’s not like I’m lonely and looking for someone to save me from my misery. Steve just so happened to ask me out in a moment of weakness -- I was in the mood to go out, that’s all.”

Lucy took the last bite of her salad before wiping her mouth. “I’m not saying you have to marry Colin or even accept more than one date with him. But, Colin doesn’t seem like he’s looking for anything super serious, either. Maybe going out with him will at least get you to delete Steve’s voicemail so you can move on with your life.”

Sophia leaned back in her chair and huffed. Lucy always had her best intentions at heart, and that motivated Sophia to give what her friend was saying a moment of real consideration. Maybe Lucy was right; maybe Sophia needed to go out with someone else to get over the nothing she’d had with Steve. 

“Fine, I’ll go out with Colin,” Sophia relented, drawing a grin from Lucy across the table, “Next time he asks me out, I’ll say yes, but I am not going to seek him out.” 

“That’s fair. I do really think it will be good for you.” Lucy leaned forward and gave her friend a comforting smile. 

Sophia assured Lucy that she knew her friend had good intentions. With a plan in place, Sophia was able to finish her lunch without Lucy pressing any more on the subject of men and dating. 

Steve couldn’t think of anything or anyone else except for Sophia and the fact that she hadn’t returned his call. He threw himself into work, even going so far as to ask Director Fury for extra missions with S.H.I.E.L.D -- ones he really wasn’t needed on -- but the distraction failed. Though he knew that she had to be upset about being stood up, and rightfully so, he had been so sure that she would call back. 

Calling again crossed his mind, but he didn’t want to bother her or press the issue if she didn’t want to call him back. Their time together at the public event had been short, but Steve knew that they could be a good thing. Missing his date with her had left him missing out on a good thing, which was another thing he couldn’t stop his mind from reminding him throughout the day.

“Just like Peggy, all over again,” Steve sighed to himself. 

His work with S.H.I.E.L.D was important. Steve knew that. If he hadn’t known that from the beginning, he never would have agreed to be part of the supersoldier program in the first place. His need to serve his country, to live up to the duty he had been called to fulfill, did not escape his knowledge, either. But, he was realizing the cost of service and duty now: his personal life was being greatly affected by this work he had been called to do. 

The walls of his apartment were closing in on him, and his mind was only racing faster by the minute. He needed to clear his head, to get out and find something else to think about. After pushing his arms into the sleeves of his worn, brown leather jacket, Steve double-checked that he had his keys and his wallet, and walked out the door, making sure to lock it before he walked away. 

Present day New York City was still a sight Steve was getting used to. The buildings were far more numerous, not to mention taller. Traffic was more dense and faster and -- well, chaotic, really. Out of all the things he had to adjust to in this new time period, the city traffic was something Steve wasn’t so sure that he would ever be able to wrap his mind around. 

There was a coffee shop a few blocks down from his apartment building; Steve decided on a whim to stop there for a cup of coffee. Starbucks was all right, and maybe it was the old-timer in him, but he preferred these little local places. So that he could remember it for next time, he looked up, trying to read the name on the building as he pulled on the door handle. Still trying to commit the name to memory, he wasn’t quite paying attention when he stepped into the shop -- and abruptly bumped into someone preparing to walk out of the shop. The woman he bumped into dropped the small purse in her hand as a result of the interaction. 

“I am so sorry,” he quickly apologized, feeling a little ridiculous for not having his head on straight. He picked up the purse and handed it to her. “Sophia?”

“Steve?” She looked just as surprised to see him as he was to see her. 

Steve thought his mind had been racing before, but now it was reeling out of control. Sophia was standing right in front of him, looking more beautiful than he even remembered. He stared for a bit too long before registering that her arm was hooked through that of the man standing next to her. He was tall, with dark hair and blue eyes. Steve’s heart dropped, followed quickly by his stomach. No wonder Sophia had never called him back; for all he knew, she hadn’t shown up that night at the restaurant, either. 

“Sorry, didn’t mean to knock into you,” Steve apologized. His voice was trembling a bit, so he cleared his throat. “Good to see you again, Ms. Hawkins.”

“Yeah, you too, St -- Mr. Rogers.” Sophia seemed confused, and Steve wondered if he hadn’t also imagined the tremble in her voice.  

Steve walked past her quickly and joined the line to order. So much for making sure he remembered the name of the shop. He’d never visit here again, if only to avoid the possibility of seeing Sophia with another man again. 

He ordered his coffee to go and went straight back to his apartment. As he walked, his mind slowed -- not that that meant much as it only returned to its normal racing speed from the last few days. The slow down helped him think things through. That man with Sophia wasn’t necessarily a boyfriend, he could have been someone else she was on a date with. Maybe it was serious, maybe it wasn’t. 

“You’re going to drive yourself crazy,” he muttered. 

The walk and the coffee had indeed helped to clear Steve’s mind. By the time he reached his apartment door, he had decided to give Sophia another call and ask her one more time to go out with him.

Sophia surprised herself by enjoying her lunchtime coffee date with Colin, and quite a bit at that. 

Until she ran into Steve. 

Seeing him standing right there, within inches of her, in the coffee shop had sent her directly back to square one. Do not pass go, do not collect a fresh outlook, do not move on. Fortunately, she didn’t have time to dwell on the unexpected meeting, as swamped as she was when she returned to work. There were messages to return and vendors to secure, reservations to take for the latest benefit hosted by the firm. 

On top of all of that, her desk phone had been ringing off the hook since she had sat back down at her desk. Making a note to talk to someone about maybe hiring an assistant or receptionist, she rejoiced when things finally calmed down. The lull allowed her to finalize the seating chart for the guest list. She forwarded the chart over to Lucy for a second look, to be sure, and then, inevitably, the phone rang again. 

“Son of a bitch,” she mumbled under her breath. She allowed herself a frustrated groan and considered letting the call go to voicemail. She didn’t recognize the number anyway, and calls could always be returned. Then, she remembered that a couple of new vendors had been hired for the event. With the most upbeat voice she could manage, and even going so far as to plaster a smile on her face, Sophia picked up the receiver and greeted the caller. “Thank you for calling Rockefeller PR, Sophia Hawkins speaking.”

“Sophia? It’s Steve. Uh, Rogers. Steve Rogers.  

The phone slipped from her hand, but she caught it before her shocked reaction could be detected from the other end of the telephone line. “Steve. How did you get this number? And why are you calling me at work?”

“I looked the number up,” he replied simply, leaving out the fact that he’d had to track down a phone book to do so because the internet had been too complicated in his worked up state. “And, I’m calling you at work because I want to ask you again if you would consider having dinner with me. Before you say no or anything else, you have to understand, I know that I messed up last time. I should have called you before our scheduled meeting time. But, I swear to you, I really could not get away from the important thing that came up. I hope I can tell you about it someday, but we can’t get to know each other better and get to that point if you don’t go out with me.”

“Generally, I won’t and don’t get myself all dolled up again for a guy who stood me up, regardless of the circumstances.”

“Sophia --” He started to protest, ready to give another amazing speech, but Sophia interrupted him.  

“But for you I will consider it. Give me some time, and I promise to let you know whatever I decide. How does that sound?” 

“Much better than a flat-out no,” Steve answered, releasing a sigh of relief. “I’ll wait for your call.” 

Sophia promised Steve she wouldn’t let too much time pass before she called him with an answer, and they ended their phone call. Ironically enough, the phone call with Steve helped to calm her nerves and Sophia found the remaining hours of her work day flew by. After setting the phone to go directly to voicemail, she gathered her things and met Lucy in the hallway for the short walk to the subway. 

On the ride home, Sophia filled Lucy in on her lunch date with Colin, and then continued on into the phone call with Steve. Lucy listened intently, allowing Sophia to tell her everything before replying. For once, Lucy’s tone was rational and calm and, before Sophia knew what had happened, Lucy had managed to convince her to agree to the second-chance date with Steve. 

Sophia waited until they were in the quiet of their apartment to make the phone call. She dropped the couch, not even taking her jacket off, if only to get the phone call done with before she changed her mind. Steve answered on the second ring. 

“Hey Steve, it’s Sophia.”

The smile in his voice was evident, though it was fringed with hesitancy. “I wasn’t expecting to hear back from you so soon.” 

“Yeah, I wasn’t expecting to call so soon,” she admitted with a chuckle. “Listen, here’s the deal. I will go out with you, on one condition.” 

“And what would that condition be?” Steve asked.

“We make it a double and you find someone to set my friend Lucy up with,” Sophia replied, stifling her laughter at Lucy’s shocked expression. “This way, if some important circumstance comes up again, I won’t be all alone.” 

Sophia thought she might have sounded a little harsh and hoped Steve would understand that was not her intention -- 

“I think that’s more than fair,” he ceded, “I can find someone for Lucy, no problem.”

Shaking her head, Lucy disappeared into the kitchen while Sophia finalized the plans for the double-date with Steve. Once off the phone, Sophia went to the kitchen where Lucy was waiting at the bar with a glass of wine. 

“I didn’t know that I was going to be punished for encouraging you to go on a date with this guy,” Lucy commented through gritted teeth. 

“I need you to help me feel this situation out, Luce! You have to be there with me to do that. And, if he doesn’t show, I don’t want to sit there alone, drinking away my humiliation like last time.” Sophia took the wine glass from Lucy’s hand and drank down most of what was left. “You hungry?”

Lucy nodded. “Starving, actually.”

“Oh good,” Sophia grinned, corking the wine bottle and putting it back in its proper place on the counter. “Because we’re meeting Steve and his friend downtown in an hour.”

Lucy finished off the contents of the wine glass and set it in the sink, then headed to her room to freshen up and change her clothes for an evening she hadn’t planned on. Sophia kept grinning as she followed, but Lucy narrowed her eyes at her friend. 

“You are so lucky you’re my best friend, you know that?”

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