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olivia-anderson-fanfic · 4 years ago

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Another One?!, Part 4

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At first, Adrien didn’t really know whether or not they were being followed.

There are a lot of kids with black hair and blue eyes, and he had a tendency to patrol certain areas. It was entirely plausible that he could just be paranoid or imagining things.

But there was a point where you had to step back and say ‘no, that’s definitely not normal’.

And Adrien hit that point when he had started counting the times he spotted the kid and ended up with eleven times by the end of the week.

He stopped in the middle of patrol and sat down on his favorite gargoyle for a short break to text the family about his findings. They deserved to know what was going on...

ChatoNoir: I think there's a person following us.

HelmetRights: Lol

ChatoNoir: This is serious!

Buginette: is it the scrawny kid with black hair and blue eyes

ChatoNoir: You’ve seen him, too?

RockinRobin: we all have????

HelmetRights: Lol

Buginette: their fine if you wanna get rid of them just wave they get all blushy and hide

HelmetRights: *They’re

Buginette: bitch lets see you type in french

HelmetRights: Qu'est-ce que je devrais dire

RockinRobin: alkdjfskdjfksdl

There was a few seconds while Marinette typed, and then apparently deleted her message because it never came through.

Adrien almost smiled but then he remembered what they were supposed to be talking about.

ChatoNoir: Can we get back on subject?

HelmetRights: Lame

Buginette: whats the point its just a fan

HelmetRights: I just wish he’d go back to not taking pictures I’ve missed so many shots because of his stupid flash going off

RockinRobin: i think it’s flattering

HelmetRights: Lol

Buginette: relax its whatever as long as he doesnt get hurt watching us

He sighed and closed his eyes. Fair enough. It’s a kid, those aren’t exactly a threat.

Still, he was a bit concerned. Not for them, they’d be fine, but for the kid. Adrien and Dick were the only ones with some kind of schedule for patrolling because of his job and Dick’s schooling, but Marinette and Jason apparently saw him pretty consistently, too. Just where were this kid’s parents? Were they okay with him being out all the time?

But he figured he must have been overreacting. Maybe they were a street kid like Jason…

No, they had decent clothes.

Adrien frowned to himself. Weird.

He pushed the thought to the back of his mind. After all, he only had another hour for patrols before he would need to go home to get ready for work. The kid would still be a problem in a few days, anyways...

It turned out Adrien was right to worry, because Marinette spotted the kid a few days later… while she was a civilian.

She had been in her favorite cafe, sipping at a cup of coffee as she read through the newspaper. It was an article about the vigilantes, debating things like ‘What the fuck were they thinking letting kids join them?’ and ‘Why can’t the kids name themselves?’

She found it amusing, even if it was calling her and her family out.

But then she’d felt someone’s eyes on her.

She slowly looked up, expecting a person who wanted to sit or a guy who wanted to flirt…

Only to see the kid.

They locked eyes for a few seconds.

Did he know? Surely, he couldn’t. They did everything from applying makeup to using codenames to hide their identities…

But that was the same starstruck look he wore whenever he looked at their vigilante identities…

She gave him a tiny wave and watched him blush and slump a little in his chair to hide.

Huh.

“Hey, so heads up, I think stalker kid might know who we are.”

Adrien dropped the textbook he was scanning for a refresher on algebra. Dick fell from the ceiling. Jason just looked up in surprise.

“WHAT?!”

“Yeah, I don’t know for sure, though. He could just have a thing for people who look like us. Somehow, I doubt it, though. We can’t all be his type.”

“We don’t know how desperate he is,” Jason pointed out.

Marinette hesitated, then gave a tiny shrug as if to say ‘you’re right, I guess…’

“Hello?” Adrien waved his hands to get their attention. “Could you guys please take this seriously? A kid knows our identities!”

“We don’t even know that for sure, though,” said Dick as he started climbing onto the nearest ceiling light. “And, if he does, so what? It’s a kid. People hardly listen to kids.”

He sighed. “Yes, but if he found out then other people might be able to, too. Shouldn’t we ask?”

The family considered this for a minute…

And then Marinette shrugged. “We need to know for sure if he knows our civilian identities, first, though. Everyone keep a lookout?”

Everyone nodded, bored and reluctant.

Adrien frowned. He loved his family, he just wished they’d take things more seriously sometimes… or, at least, not brush past things so quickly...

His watch beeped and he sighed. He pushed the thought aside. He needed to get ready for work.

After everyone had spotted them in their civilian forms several times, they decided to call it: the kid knew who they were.

(At least he wasn’t taking pictures of them as civilians, they thought, because that would be uncomfortable.)

So, for the first time in ages, the four of them were spotted doing a casual patrol together. It was kind of fun, actually. Dick and Marinette practiced some old circus acts that they remembered, Jason and Adrien raced. Maybe they should do it more often…

Marinette and Dick were walking along some power lines when Dick suddenly stopped to point down.

Her eyes followed to find the kid and she whistled for Adrien and Jason’s attention.

The kid was alone on a rooftop. He didn’t seem concerned that they were all pointing at him, though maybe a little flustered…

But then he did freak out.

Because the vigilantes jumped down in a loose circle around him.

Their stalker spun around anxiously as if he wasn’t sure who to look at.

Dick cleared his throat. “Right, do you know why we’re here?”

“I…” The kid finally stopped spinning to look at Marinette and Adrien. “Because I know your identities?”

“Yes. How exactly did you do that?” She said, crossing her arms over her chest.

The kid cleared his throat awkwardly. “Well, I’m a big Haly’s circus fan --.”

“Ah, shoot,” Dick muttered.

“And… I was looking through some old footage of you guys on Youtube… and I realized that Robin did a move that only Dick Grayson would know. And, if Dick Grayson was Robin, then you guys all had to be vigilantes.”

The entire family was glaring at Dick.

The man in question just awkwardly looked to the side.

Marinette clicked her tongue and then looked back at the kid. “Okay, what was the url of the footage you got? I’ll see if we can give them a copyright strike. Youtube’s system is broken so it’d probably work.”

The kid in question shook his head. “You don’t have to. I got rid of it myself.”

“Oh… thanks. Is it anywhere else that you know of?”

“No, I got rid of everything on the internet that could trace back to you guys.”

The family looked at each other, confusion on all of their faces. How…? This kid was fifteen, max, there was no way…

Well, maybe he was bluffing so he could keep the footage. They’d check later.

Jason was apparently done with caring about what was going on, because he had sat down and started checking his guns to make sure they were all okay.

Marinette was feeling much the same, leaning on her cane. “Great, well, thanks for that, I guess… could you maybe stop stalking us as civilians, though?”

“Don’t worry, I’m just doing that to get enough proof to clear your names and then I’ll go back to just watching you as vigilantes.”

“Oh, ok -- wait, what?” Said Dick, frowning a little bit.

The kid frowned as well. “I’m clearing your name… do you not know?”

The four looked at each other before shaking their heads in unison.

He sighed and brought out his phone to pull up an article. He passed it to Jason because he was closest and he cursed quietly.

“The gist of it is people are starting to wonder if you’ve gone bad,” explained the kid as Jason scrolled through the article. “It’s just a gossip column thing right now but I figured I should get proof you guys are still good in case it gained traction.”

Marinette frowned. “I’d understand if they thought we were just bad, not everyone understands that we kill people for the greater good, but saying we’ve gone bad implies that we’ve somehow gotten worse…?”

The phone was passed to her and her first instinct, much like Jason’s, had been to curse.

“Well, there’s been rumors of you and Riddler being friends for years now --.”

“WE’RE NOT,” Marinette hissed, and it took a lot of mental power to not crush the phone in her hands. She passed it on to Dick just in case. “He’s just helpful on some cases is all.”

Adrien rolled his eyes.

The kid sighed lightly. “And, on top of that, all of your most recent high-level takeouts have helped a particular mob boss, Antony Agoura, gain power.”

Her first instinct was ‘cool, thanks for the name, let’s kill him’, but then she forced herself to reconsider.

It seemed that taking down people just helped someone else take their place, which didn’t really surprise her. The moment anything was freed from someone’s hold, there would always be people who would do their best to grab it…

But then what was the solution? The situation with Agoura itself was proof that just murdering the head and saying ‘alright, next thing’ wasn’t working. Someone would just pop up to take his place --.

Adrien met her eyes and they shared anxious frowns.

Fuck, they were actually going to have to think about this one, huh?

He fell back on the couch and closed his eyes.

He listened to his family mull about. He could hear the quiet creaking of Dick getting on a light, could hear Marinette pulling out baking pans, could hear the clinking of Jason’s rings.

He sighed.

What could they do?

They had had a rule that they would never kill henchmen because they often weren’t working just for fun, they had a family to feed or hadn’t been able to get a job elsewhere.

Besides, with the mobster gone, there would be little reason for the police to let them go. They’d serve hard time and then, hopefully, come out a better person.

(Probably not. The prison system needed work.)

But…

He had remembered the name Agoura. He had been under Zucco at some point. He wasn’t sure whether he’d been a mob boss or a henchman at the time, though it didn’t really matter. There were a lot of people who had started out as henchmen that had somehow gotten power.

He sighed. He hated systemic issues.

The main problem, he thought, was that mobsters didn’t fear death as much as they should. Sure, everyone fears death on some level, but the people of Gotham knew what they were doing when they decided to get to that point. They would die if they got caught, and they were willing to take the risk in order to get the money and power that came along with being mobsters.

What did they fear? What weren’t they prepared to face?

He opened his eyes and looked over at Dick, who was currently reviewing for final exams from the ceiling.

The law, maybe? Serving actual hard time?

Well, it was worth a shot.

Dick was about to be a lawyer, so they had someone who would be able to try them in court…

But they needed a police officer to arrest them…

Marinette walked into the room and started looking for her shoes, cursing out brownies.

“Chocolate sauce. How did I forget that? Kwami!” She clicked her tongue. “Son of a -- where are my shoes?”

“Shoes are under the couch,” said Dick calmly.

Marinette gave the world’s angriest “Thank you!” as she ducked down and grabbed them.

“M’lady,” said Adrien.

She paused, looking over at him. “Yes, Chaton?”

“I have an idea for what to do about our newest problem, if you’d like to hear it.”

She tipped her head to the side a little, smiling.

“Sure, but make it quick, I can only keep Dick and Jason away from the batter for so long.”

Hey, New Jersey, what the fuck?

It had literally been easier to get into the circus than it had been to become a police officer.

She’d already gotten a degree in criminal justice a few years back. Why? Because she was really bored.

(Also, she’d wanted to mess with Officer Ross and she had decided that it would be funny to memorize as many laws as possible to point out when his buddies weren’t abiding by them.)

The test had been almost painfully easy. She spoke English as a second language and she’d thought that she was reading almost every question wrong. Some of these people would be detectives one day, you’d think they’d ask for more than basic reading comprehension. The most difficult question she’d gotten was one about license plates, and even then it was multiple choice so she’d had a 20% chance of guessing right.

And then getting a job in the GCPD was somehow easier.

Though she figured out why that last part had happened the first day she walked into work.

Can someone say ‘diversity hire’?

She hugged herself awkwardly. Really? Was she the only person of color in this place?

Wait, there was a singular black guy. She was wrong. She was just the only woman of color. Yay.

But, it seemed, her day was about to get worse.

“Marinette Agreste?”

Her nails dug into her arms and she turned to look at Officer Ross. “That’s me.”

“I’m here to give you a tour of the place. Ready?”

Asshole. Chienne. Motherfucker. Other swear words she couldn’t think of she was so mad.

She forced a smile to her face. “Sure!”

Yay. Galas. He always loved those.

He reached out and helped Jason with his tie and then ruffled his red curls. “What’s the rule?”

Jason grinned. “If you absolutely have to ruin someone’s life, do it discreetly.”

“Good.” He met Dick’s eyes in the mirror. “And what’s your rule?”

“... no hanging and/or swinging from chandeliers.”

“Thank you.” He looked at Tikki. “Please, just let us have one easy gala. No press, no kids getting their hands on wine, no people talking to Mari so we don’t have to leave early.”

Tikki shrugged.

He sighed. Yeah, he’d expected that. Worth a shot, though.

So, the four of them all head off. They told themselves that, hey, even if Tikki couldn’t promise that things will go okay, they could make it happen.

The peace lasted about ten seconds.

Because then Marinette hissed a curse and nodded her head to point out the kid.

He sighed. They hadn’t seen the kid in a while as civilians, so they’d thought that he had actually ended up agreeing that stalking them while they were civilians was taking it too far, but apparently not.

Wait a minute, galas were private events. How did he get in?

They started looking around for the kid’s parents, because obviously they had to be around, but they were nowhere near him.

Marinette and Adrien exchanged frowns.

And then their frowns deepened. Because they glanced behind themselves to look at their kids and found that they weren’t there anymore.

She clicked her tongue and looked around. “You deal with the stalker, I’ll go find the kids. I’m sure that one of them has found a loophole to their rule by now --.” Her eyes widened and she rushed away. “RICHARD JUST BECAUSE THAT’S NOT A CHANDELIER DOES NOT MEAN YOU CAN CLIMB IT --.”

Adrien sighed.

He grabbed a glass of wine and then headed over to the kid. “Hey, kiddo, where are your parents?”

He shrugged and pointed over to the small crowd of people watching Marinette attempt to pry a glass of wine from Jason’s hands while they cursed each other out in French.

“Probably over there.”

Adrien winced. “Fun.”

“Your family is a disaster,” said the kid.

“Thanks,” Adrien muttered.

“I think it’s nice. When you’re vigilantes you’re basically gods, it’s nice to know you’re just people.”

He considered this for a second.

“Also, it’s really funny to watch,” added the kid.

He sighed and leaned back against the wall.

After a few minutes of watching the Agreste family crash and burn, the kid looked back over at him.

“Why are you still here?”

“Here with you, here at the gala, or here on Earth?” Adrien half-joked.

They shrugged. “Here with me. Your family needs you right now.”

“Marinette is the better problem solver of the both of us. Besides, you’re a kid, you shouldn’t be left alone.”

“I’m alone all the time, I’ll live.”

Adrien frowned. “What do you --?”

He was cut off when he spotted Marinette dragging Jason over by the back of his suit.

“Hold onto him, will you? I need to catch Dick before he breaks --.” There was a crashing sound nearby. She clicked her tongue. “... before he breaks that hedge. I’ll be back.”

Adrien absently held a hand out and Jason put his arm in it so he could keep a hold on him. His wife gave a tired smile before turning on her heel and stalking off to the hedge maze.

He sighed and looked back at the stalker. “Right, where were we…? Oh, what do you mean by you’re alone all the time?”

Jason’s eyes narrowed a little bit.

“My parents… go on a lot of trips.”

“Without you?”

He shrugged. “Yeah.”

“What…? Why…?”

“You wouldn’t understand, you guys never go anywhere.”

Adrien opened his mouth and then closed it again. He wasn’t exactly wrong, but…

“Okay, point, but how often are you alone? Is that why you’re always following us? Do you go to school? Do --?”

He frowned and held up a hand. “That’s a lot of questions at once.” He started to count off on his fingers. “They’re never gone for longer than a month at a time but they only come back for a few days at most. Yes, it’s why I’m always able to follow you. And I’m homeschooled.”

Adrien’s frown was deepening more and more by the second. “Who are your parents, exactly? Or, I guess, who are you?”

“I’m Tim Drake.”

Drake. His eyes flicked to Jack and Janet Drake. He had talked to them a few times because they had a tendency to ask Marinette for commissions (or, at least, they did until Dick and Jason came along and kept their parents distracted for the entire time they were there). Still, he hadn’t even known that they had a kid…

Jason suddenly tugged on his arm, pulling Adrien’s attention back to him.

“Dad, it looks like Dickwad and Mom are wanting to go.”

He frowned and looked up to find that, yes, Marinette had managed to catch Dick and was now waving for their attention from the door.

He winced and looked back over at the kid. “Tim…”

Jason tugged harder on his arm. “Dad, let’s go.”

Adrien gave an apologetic look but allowed Jason to pull him out the door.

The silence in the car was deafening that night, everyone lost in their thoughts.

Marinette was now constantly fighting the urge to punch someone.

Why are all cops just… the absolute worst? Sure, some of them aren’t directly beating up the teenagers that are brought in for information or planting evidence, but they weren’t exactly saying anything about it.

And then there was the fact that she’d been paired with Officer Ross.

Really, she should have expected it. She’d known that his partner had recently passed away in the field, and that he would need another.

If she’d known that she’d have ended up the lucky officer, she would have said fuck it to the whole trying something new thing and just gone after Agoura’s head like normal.

Now she’d gotten too far to just give up...

Didn’t mean she wasn’t going to be bitter about it.

As a way to vent her anger, she’d wanted to ask what happened to his old partner but then this stupid thing called ‘morals’ got in the way. Really unfortunate, because now all she could really do was glare at the stack of paperwork that she was being forced to make a digital copy for over her cup of coffee.

She felt an arm rest on her shoulder and cursed internally. She forced a smile to her face as she looked up to see…

Dick. Oh, thank the kwamis.

Marinette grinned. “Hey, sweetie, how did finals go?”

“I don’t want to jinx it.”

She hummed her understanding and moved on. “No problems?”

Dick gave a tiny shrug. “There was a few problems, there was a really annoying kid next to me that apparently still hasn’t learned how to breathe through his nose, but… they actually listened to the doctors and gave me extra time, so that’s good.”

She got up and wrapped him in a hug. “So, out of college officially. How’s it feel?”

He hugged her back, absolutely beaming. “If I passed.”

She clicked her tongue. “Right. But, let’s say you did. Then you’re out.”

“Then I’m out!” He said, pulling back and resting his hands on his hips. “Now all I have to do is find a job.”

“How horrible,” she said sarcastically.

“Yeah. Speaking of horrible jobs, wanna leave?”

“I do, but I have to finish this.” She sat back down and pulled up the daunting task in front of her. She had to type up another few pages and she was not eager to do so. Still, the commissioner had asked to get her email by the end of her shift and, if Dick was here, she was already behind. “I’ll need around an hour, I think.”

He groaned and pulled out his phone.

She smiled faintly and went back to working.

Or, at least, she tried to.

Officer Ross was talking to Dick.

“So, you’re her kid?”

“One of two!”

Ross laughed. “Tell me, is she always so angry at home?”

“Not really. Our family doesn’t really get angry in general, at least not at home. I think we all vent our anger at work, though.”

“Hm. Weird.”

Dick gave a tiny shrug.

“So, just graduated, then?”

“Mhmm! I just finished law school! I’m gonna be a lawyer!”

Ross’s eyes narrowed a little bit. “A lawyer, huh? Are you going to be the one doing the persecuting or defending?”

“Um…” said Dick, who seemed to be just now remembering that cops and lawyers didn’t exactly get along if the way his smile was dropping was any indication. He looked to the side and brought a smile to his face again. “Persecuting. I’m on your side. It would be kind of embarrassing to go against my mom in court, don’t you think?”

He relaxed, nodding. “Good.”

They lapsed into an awkward silence after that and Marinette was finally able to concentrate…

For the two seconds of silence she got before Commissioner Gordon walked over to ask her when she’d be done.

She fought the urge to bang her head on the desk.

She turned around, about to throw Officer Ross under the bus, but it turned out she didn’t need to.

Because then his daughter showed up with some dinner for him.

Gordon turned around to greet her. Thank kwami, finally something was going right. Hopefully he’d forget about what he was doing (he was old, after all) and she’d have until he was back at his desk before he remembered. She’d have around half an hour.

Not enough time to do well but she could probably get away with it because she was still a relatively new hire...

She managed to hit send the second the commissioner turned away from his daughter and slumped in her chair. It wasn’t on time but at least she’d done it.

She looked at her empty coffee cup and clicked her tongue. She glanced at Dick. “I’ll be right back, I’m getting some of the free coffee before I go.”

“Didn’t you say it was awful?”

“Yeah but it’s free.”

“... we’re rich.”

“And?”

Dick grinned. “Whatever. Go ahead. I’ve waited this long.”

She sent him a wave and then disappeared to the break room, clocking out on the way.

When she came back out she found Dick flirting with the commissioner's daughter. She would have been proud if that wasn’t, y’know, her boss’s daughter oh my god she was screwed she was going to lose her job and then the mission would be compromised and --.

She practically ran over to sling her arm around her kid.

(She didn’t actually run, she had a mug of coffee in her hand and she thought that was much more important than any mission, but she was close to it.)

“Sweetie! Hi! We should be getting home, it’s your celebration-dinner-thingy-can’t-remember-the-English-word -- PARTY tonight! I can’t keep you any longer or there won’t be time to bake the cake.”

Dick gave her a bit of side-eye and she gave him a smile in return.

“But…”

Barbara laughed a little. “Go ahead. It’s cake, you can’t just pass up on cake.” She smiled. “Congrats on whatever it is, Dick.”

He looked to the side, smiling. “Thanks. I’d invite you because my mom’s a great baker… but it’s kind of a family thing.”

Barbara shrugged. “It’s fine. I doubt that my dad would be too thrilled about me getting lured into a house with cake, anyways. It’s not that far off from getting lured into the car with candy.” She broke into a grin. “Promise to bring some of her cake by sometime?”

“Sure. I’ll be by tomorrow with as much as I can save.”

“I’ll hold you to that.”

Dick finally allowed Marinette to pull him out of the police station, sending Barbara a wave over his shoulder long after she was out of view.

She clicked her tongue as they climbed into the car. “If I lose my job it’s on you.”

“Who knows, the commissioner might be mad at you because you got between us. Depends on what kind of dad he is.” His face split into a fox-like grin. “Besides, you should be thanking me. I just got us a backup plan. If you get fired, knowing the commissioner’s daughter would be useful.”

Marinette hummed thoughtfully. “Smart.”

“Thanks, I have my moments.”

“Yeah, ‘moments’ is definitely the word for it.”

He gasped and took a hand off the wheel to give her shoulder a tiny shove. “Rude!”

She just laughed.

It was inevitable that it would happen at some point, but that doesn’t mean that they were happy about it.

Adrien had made a stupid mistake.

He had been alone on patrol. It had been a standard street fight, after all.

He’d seen the flash of Tim’s camera out of the corner of his eyes and looked up at the wrong time. Now he had a bullet in his shoulder, his staff was rolling across the floor, and he’d had to duck for cover behind a car to ensure that the one bullet didn’t turn to twenty.

So the night was already going great.

But then he realized that some of the people had also noticed the flash going off and were now going to investigate.

His day just kept getting better.

He pulled out his phone.

ChatoNoir: H! E8th, Eads. LW, 1?C-K.

HelmetRights: I’m close I’ll help

He breathed out a sigh of relief. His miraculous was the most useful for situations like this.

He brought a hand to his shoulder and flinched a little bit. He had a few minutes before he bled out.

Adrien slowly poked his head around the car. They were all distracted fighting each other...

Good?

He slowly reached out and pulled a nearby body over to him and peeled their shirt off. He needed it more than them right now, anyways. He bandaged his wound and then looked around again, this time searching the ground for his staff.

Ah. It was pretty much in the exact center of all the fighting. Fun.

How about no?

He looked around wildly for inspiration. What to do, what to do, what to do…

He ran out from behind the car and made his way over to the building where he had last seen Tim’s flash. The gang members would likely be there for a while, probably until Jason could come over, and Tim’s situation would get worse by the second. Hopefully the kid had enough sense to hide…

He stepped inside the old office building. Abandoned, probably, there was a thin coating of dust on everything and the only light in the place was a result of the sunlight streaming in through open windows.

He listened in for anyone and winced when he heard a metallic clang above him. He ran up the stairs and looked around.

A kid… was trying to fight… five fully grown gang members…

It was going about as well as you’d expect.

Would it kill people to have even a scrap of common sense?

He flinched when he heard a bone crunch.

Adrien grabbed the nearest desk lamp and looked around. He hooked it around a light and tested the strength…

Not great.

Whatever, he was already injured.

He heard a gunshot outside and breathed a sigh of relief. Jason, probably.

Hopefully...

The gang members looked up at the sound and Adrien took his chance, pressing his hand to the floor and mumbling a Cataclysm.

Black webbed along the floor and it crumbled beneath everyone.

He swung over and grabbed Tim from thin air. Much like he’d expected, the cord snapped under their combined weight and they were in free fall. Adrien pulled the kid to his stomach and flipped them around in the air to make sure he was the only one to actually hit the ground.

Adrien hit the floor and tried not to think about the piece of rubble now lodged in his back and the way the bullet in his shoulder was definitely displaced now and he was bleeding faster and OW.

He released his grip on Tim so his claws wouldn’t dig into him and rested his head back on the cold floor.

“You alright, Tim?”

“Not really.”

He wheezed out a laugh. “Same here.”

He felt Tim shift his weight on top of him and winced mentally at the rubble digging into him, and looked over. It was dark, the sunlight had been clouded by the dust drawn up by the collapse of the second floor. He didn’t know if Tim could see but that was fine. Adrien could.

He slowly pushed himself up and looked for any sign of movement.

He could see a couple of the gang members stirring. He shook his head a little bit and rested a hand on top of Tim’s head. “Stay. I’ll be back.”

“I’m not a dog.”

“Don’t care. Stay. Here.”

Tim looked annoyed but he sat himself down and rested his head on his hand. Adrien glanced him over. One of his legs was definitely broken and he was littered with thin cuts and bruises but he seemed otherwise fine.

Maybe his definition of ‘fine’ needed some work…

He pulled his attention back to the people that were getting up and he grabbed a nearby blunt object: a rock!

Well, a piece of the floor, but it was pretty much a rock.

Adrien made his way around with his rock and made sure that everyone would stay down. He didn’t exactly aim to kill but he wasn’t exactly concerned if he ended up doing so.

After a few minutes he walked back over to Tim and he slowly helped him to his feet, letting him sling an arm over him for support as he helped him walk out.

Jason was outside, checking bodies for extra bullets.

He looked up and frowned. “You look awful.”

“Thanks. I have a photoshoot tomorrow and I was really hoping that I would like ‘awful’ for it.”

“No problem.” His eyes found their way to Tim and he rolled his eyes. “So, what, are you adopting him, now?”

Tim frowned. “I… have parents.”

“Barely,” muttered Adrien.

“Mom will kill you if you adopt another kid.”

“I’m not scared of Mari.”

“Yes, you are.”

“Yes, I am.”

He sighed and closed his eyes.

He didn’t just want to leave a kid in a bad situation, but Marinette had been annoyed by him adopting Jason…

He peeked an eye open and looked at the kid next to him.

“I have a plan.”

“Oh no,” mumbled Jason.

Adrien looked at Tim. “Would you like to live with us?”

Tim thought for a minute, then shrugged. “It would be cool to actually have someone in the house with me.”

“Oh no,” Jason mumbled again, starting to mess with his rings.

Adrien broke into a grin.

“Awesome. Let’s get you home.”

Marinette noticed Tim the moment she walked into the kitchen.

She gave her husband a tired look. “Please tell me you didn’t adopt another one.”

“I didn’t. He has parents, I can’t adopt him.”

Her eyes found Dick’s for confirmation. He gave a small shrug.

She relaxed a little bit. “Good. Why’s he here?”

“He got hurt stalking me, his leg’s all busted up.”

Tim showed her his leg and she winced. They’d set it back into place but all the bandages said that it couldn’t have been a nice experience.

“Sorry about that, sweetie, do you want a cake or something? I can make one.”

Tim smiled. “No, thank you.”

Marinette, who had already been pulling out pans, gave him a confused look. She slowly put the pans back. “Oh… okay.”

“I have a dietician. She’d kill me if I went too far off,” he explained. “But I’ve heard good things about your baking.”

She nodded slowly. “Right.”

Adrien met her eyes hesitantly and she knew that whatever he was going to say she wasn’t going to like it.

“I’m going to train him in self-defense.”

She clicked her tongue. She knew what that meant by now. “You are not making this random child a vigilante. It’s bad enough when we let our own kids do it, he isn’t ours.”

Adrien held up his hands. “He got hurt stalking us. I just don’t want a repeat. I won’t give him a miraculous, okay?”

She frowned suspiciously but nodded that he could do that.

Adrien visibly relaxed.

Marinette took in the bandaging on her husband and she frowned. “How bad is it?”

“Uh… one bullet to the shoulder and some shrapnel got me in the back. Not that bad.”

She nodded and leaned over, pressing a kiss to his lips. “No patrol for a month.”

“But --.”

“No.”

He pouted a little bit but nodded. “Fine. I can still help this kid learn self-defense, though, right?”

She considered this for a minute and then nodded. “Since you’re teaching basics you’re not going to be doing much physically… so, yes. But get help from someone if you want to do anything strenuous.”

Adrien rolled his eyes. “Yeah yeah.”

Marinette hummed lightly. She glanced at the time. She had a few hours to patrol before Dick confirmed she hadn’t slept in a few days and came to physically knock her out…

She started up the coffee machine.

(Dick narrowed his eyes in the background and started trying to remember when the last time she’d gone to sleep was.)

“Ew, you drink coffee?” Said Tim.

Marinette slowly turned on him, her eyes narrowing. “It keeps you awake.”

Adrien and Dick looked hopeful, probably thinking that Tim would make her realize her caffeine addiction and tendency not to sleep was unhealthy.

And then he spoke: “Sure, but have you tried energy drinks? They taste better and have sugar.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Not enough caffeine.”

“You haven’t found Bam, then. Once you get past their political donations they’re GREAT. A 16 ounce can has almost three times as much caffeine as a cup of coffee.”

The other guys went pale.

She broke into a wide grin. “I like you.”

“This was a mistake,” mumbled Adrien.

“Yep! C’mon, Tim, we’re going to the store. I'll help you walk.”

Listen, opening a portal to a pocket dimension wasn’t easy… but he was perfectly willing to do it for his kid.

No. His soon-to-be kid. His wife still hadn’t said yes.

No. His soon-to-be younger housemate. Tim still had legal parents.

Whatever.

It was good, too, the portal was hidden to the naked eye for everyone but him, so there was no worries of Marinette finding out too early.

(Unless she just decided to randomly lean against the wall in the hallway.)

And, as far as pocket dimensions go, it was decent. Empty outside of a few things that Tim had brought over from his house and a lot smaller than any other room in the house... but decent. It didn’t have a single monster living in it, that’s pretty good by pocket dimension standards.

Jason and Dick had both complained when they realized that Tim got a room of his own, even though they knew the circumstances. Adrien was forced to make another.

Was Adrien a little worried that the dimension that they were currently in would become unstable if he opened two portals in close proximity to each other? Yes. But it didn’t collapse on them when he did it, so it’s all good.

There had been a monster in that one.

Adrien was going to be feeling that bite on his arm for the next few years, he thought.

But, hey, at least now everyone had their own rooms. And all the boys seemed happier for it.

Well, Jason still seemed a little annoyed that there was now another kid in the house and Dick was clearly anxious that Marinette would find out and get mad at them and Tim was clearly struggling to understand the whole ‘no longer an only child that lives mostly alone and therefore needs to at least wear pants around the house’ thing, but shhhhhhh avoiding problems is the Agreste forte.

Yes, even Tim Drake was in the practice of avoiding problems.

Adrien figured that if he adopted enough kids eventually one of them would have a good coping mechanism and they could steal that.

But, until then, avoiding problems would have to work.

A routine was forming, and she hated it.

She’d go to work for a large part of the day, and then get picked up by Dick. She’d spend about two hours in the break room drinking the free coffee and scrolling through her phone so her son could chat up the commissioner’s daughter. She’d grab him by the arm with some vague excuse about how they needed to get home. She’d get dropped off at random places in Gotham and start on patrols. She’d get home early in the morning and chug another few cans of Bam with Tim.

Then she’d start it all over again.

But she’d hated it more when the routine was suddenly broken.

She felt a hand rest on her shoulder and nearly tore the file she was looking through in half in her surprise. It surely couldn’t be time for Dick to pick her up yet…

She looked over at her computer for the time and her eyes caught the reflection of Barbara on the black screen.

Marinette slowly turned around. “Hey.”

“Can I talk with you in private?”

She tried not to tense up. Most of the time when people say that you’re in trouble. She didn’t want to get in trouble with the boss’s daughter.

“Mhmm!” She handed the file over to Ross to hold onto and then followed Barbara down a few halls and up to the roof. She sent Tikki out to check for people and relaxed a little bit when the kwami shook their head no. Maybe this could just be about Dick --.

“Do you not like me?”

She blanked. “Huh? I… what? No. Do you think I’d stay after to let my son flirt with you every day if I didn’t?”

“No, but then I have to question why you always cut us short.”

“We have stuff to do at home.”

She shrugged. “But you hardly ever go home.”

Marinette took a cautious step back. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that you and Dick never seem to go the same way twice when you leave.”

“You watch that?”

She shrugged again. “Of course. At first I thought it had something to do with traffic or errands, but then why would you always list a home activity?”

“Because what we do at our house is none of your concern,” said Marinette.

Barbara smiled. “You know, I work at the library.”

She tried not to frown at the change of subject. It was weird, but at least it had moved away from where she went at night.

“Alright.”

“I know your other son, Jason. He comes by pretty frequently with his dad.”

“Alright.”

“Want to tell me why he and I have had long conversations about how we hate cops?”

Marinette wanted to punch something. Still, she forced a smile. “It’s perfectly normal for kids to take opposite stances about things than their parents. Just like you and your dad.”

“Sure, but then why do you act like you hate cops?”

Wow. Even the commissioner's daughter knew she hated being a cop. She really needed to brush up on her acting skills… or get new ones. She didn’t know if she’d ever been good at acting.

“Listen, I know you’re planning to take this place down, I’m not stupid. I won’t rat you out, I want in.”

Well, that was a development.

Marinette narrowed her eyes slightly. “Really? Why should I trust you?”

“Because I’m dating your son, maybe?”

“YOU’RE DATING?!”

“YOU DIDN’T KNOW?!”

Both women immediately pulled out their phones and started texting Dick. Nothing bonds people better than anger and they were both ready to kill.

MA: come to the precinct please

#1Sweetie: kjsklfjdskfjdks does this have anything to do with barbara texting me at the same time

MA: yes

#1Sweetie: i’ll be right there

MA: were on the roof

Dick deleted and then retyped his message four times before sending:

#1Sweetie: fun can’t wait

For someone who ‘can’t wait’ he sure took his sweet time, though.

Now, if it was only Marinette that was mad, it probably would have just blown over. However, Barbara wasn’t an Agreste. She actually knew how to deal with problems.

When Dick finally managed to get up to the roof, he found the two women glaring at him.

“So, care to explain why you didn’t tell me you were dating Barbara?” Marinette said with a bright smile.

Dick looked to the side and then brought a smile to his face. “I was just waiting for the right time to announce it.”

They both shared skeptical looks and then looked back at him.

“Okay, fine. It’s because I didn’t want to be the one to bring another person into the house, Mari would’ve killed me.”

Marinette accepted that answer. Fair enough. She would have. If Marinette and Adrien not had jobs they might have been able to keep up with three (and a half including Tim, who was around enough because of his stalking and self-defense lessons for her to somewhat count him) other people in their house, but she doubted that they could fully parent three kids with both their civilian and vigilante jobs.

Dick relaxed a little and walked over to the women, taking a seat in front of them. “Are we alright?”

They both gave him nods, then gave each other wary looks.

Marinette glanced at the time. “I’ll be back to talk more about this after work. Meet us at the car?”

A few hours later, they all filed into the car. Dick and Barbara took the back seat and Marinette angled her mirror to watch them just in case.

“Right, where are you on your investigation?” Asked Barbara.

“She knows --?”

“Yep, you’re behind, sweetie.” Marinette glanced at the mirror and found Dick messing with a rubix cube and Barbara listening intently. “Right now we’re searching for proof of corruption in the police force. The higher up I can get the easier it will be to actually have people prosecuted.”

“... are you having any trouble with getting proof?”

She shrugged. “Unfortunately. It’s not like they document when they let someone go and it’s way too easy to claim that people were all bloody before they got there.”

Barbara frowned. “Take pictures.”

“Cops are stupid, but they’re not that stupid. If I take out a camera they’re going to notice.”

“Write it down yourself, then.”

“It’s my word against theirs.”

Barbara groaned. Marinette could relate. She’d been struggling to find any kind of proof that wouldn’t immediately be traced back to her for over a month now.

And all she needed was proof, really. She knew that Barbara’s dad, at least, wasn’t a bad cop. He was just, somehow, painfully unaware of the corruption in his precinct. If given proof of a person’s corruption he would, at the very least, fire them.

“Doesn’t help that the kind of people that the police let go are usually killed by one of the vigilantes before they get to the police,” added Dick.

“And, even if we were the kind of people that vigilantes talked to, it’s not like they could stop killing those people without everyone getting suspicious.”

“... I’m beginning to think this might be impossible.”

She gave a quiet laugh. “Yeah. Probably.” She pulled up in her driveway and blinked a few times. “Um… sorry for kidnapping you.”

“It’s cool, I wanted to ask Jason about some of his books.”

“Are they overdue?”

Barbara smiled. “Yep. I need to know if he lost it or if I should just recheck it out for him.”

Marinette nodded absently. “Cool. Dick, drive her home when she’s done? I need to go grocery shopping.”

She waved at them and then got out of the car, tossing the keys to Dick without either of them glancing over. With that, she head off for patrols.

Adrien blinked a few times to make sure he was seeing this.

Dick had a girlfriend. Who was the commissioner's daughter. Who was also a librarian at the library that he and Jason frequented.

And she knew about the whole ‘trying to take down random people in the police force so Marinette can advance and prosecute people properly’ thing.

But not the vigilante thing. The vigilante thing was too far, apparently.

He needed to sit down for a minute.

Adrien pulled a knee to his chest from his spot on the counter.

Jason had been the most blunt: “Did dad adopt you, too?”

“I have parents.”

“That didn’t stop him from adopting Tim.”

“I’m also dating your brother, that would mess things up.”

Jason relaxed a little bit when he realized that Adrien wouldn’t adopt her… and then he laughed. “Wait, you’re dating Dickwad?”

“Yes.”

“I thought you had taste.”

Barbara and Jason grinned at each other, much to Dick’s annoyance.

“Adrien! They’re being rude!” He complained.

He shrugged absently. “I don’t control them.”

“You can control Jason! He’s your kid! Take away his trust fund or something!”

“WAIT WHAT NO --.”

Adrien cut him off by laughing. “That would be funny but I doubt Mari would be alright with that.”

Tim walked in with a can of Bam and some instant coffee mix. Everyone watched in horror as he started pouring the Bam into the water part of the coffee maker.

“Hey, Timmy, whatcha doing?” Asked Adrien, despite being very sure he did not want to hear the answer.

Tim looked up. “Experiment.”

“I thought you didn’t like the taste of coffee, though…”

“It’ll be worth it for the extra caffeine.”

Jason laughed a little bit. “You’re going to die. Go ahead, though, I want to see it happen.”

Dick and Adrien met eyes. They needed to destroy that thing and also maybe find a way to block Marinette and Tim from getting to the store.

They nodded at each other before getting to work pulling Tim away from his creation.

Marinette hummed as she finished off the fourth cake she’d baked and decorated with a flourish.

She started washing the dishes she’d just used because she had run out of free pans to bake with and she couldn’t restart until they were washed.

Dick groaned from the doorway, holding his head as he slowly made his way inside.

“Good morning, sweetie.”

He groaned again and then apparently caught sight of the cakes on the table. He frowned a little bit. “Um…”

“I made a vanilla cake for you. It’s the one with the buttercream flowers.”

Dick hesitated for a minute before shrugging and sitting down with the cake. “Thanks, mom, but are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“... mom… as much as I love your cakes, you only bake this much when you’re stressed.”

She clicked her tongue. “Sweetie… I doubt you’ll be able to think of a solution if Adrien, Barbara, and I couldn’t think of something.”

“You went to Barbara and not me? Come on! At least let me try.”

She doubted that he could be of any help but whatever. If she told him and he couldn’t come up with something then he’d leave the subject alone, and if he came up with something then they’d have a solution. Win-win. Kinda.

“I have no clue how we’re going to get proof that people are corrupt.”

Dick thought for a minute, then shrugged. “Have someone join the mob. Any mob. There has to be at least a few moles. Take a few pictures or collect names and then take them to the commissioner.”

Marinette shook her head slowly. “Can’t, no one has enough time.”

“I do.”

“Sure, but you’re a kid and we’re not letting a kid join the mob.”

Dick huffed. “I’m twenty-three.”

“You don’t have any skills that the mob is looking for.”

“I’m a lawyer, they’d love to have me.”

“No.”

“But --!”

“NO, RICHARD!”

Dick flinched a little bit and looked down. He gave a quiet groan of irritation and pushed himself out of his chair. He took his cake to his room.

She closed her eyes. The problem would be gone by morning, but that didn’t mean that she liked that they’d fought.

She opened her eyes again and started pulling down ingredients.

Adrien knew that Marinette would catch on soon. It had been months since the incident, Tim was more than capable of taking care of himself. He was pretty sure the only reason that she hadn’t noticed anything was because her schedule was so messed up that she wasn’t registering time right.

He knew he should tell her but he couldn’t bring himself to. What if she kicked Tim out? What if she made him stop seeing the kid entirely? He couldn’t let that happen, the kid had gone through enough. No, he would have to wait for the perfect moment.

If she didn’t find out first.

Marinette walked into the kitchen in the morning and everyone tensed and glanced at Tim, who was casually playing a video game and definitely not learning self-defense.

Adrien sighed. Could he say he was just making sure Tim ate so he wouldn’t pass out? Would she believe that?

She walked over to the fridge and grabbed a can of Bam and then glanced back at the boys, her eyes glazed with exhaustion.

Then she gave every boy in the room a kiss on the cheek.

Yes, even Tim.

“I’ll be back after work. Are you picking me up like usual, sweetie?”

Dick blinked a few times and then stifled laughter with his hand. Once he’d managed to get his voice under control, he spoke: “Yep! I can’t wait to see Babs.”

“Gross. Right, I’m heading out.”

Everyone watched in stunned silence as she walked out.

Jason’s face soured.

And then he snapped his fingers. “I got it… HEY, MOM! YOU FORGOT THAT ROSS BROKE THE COFFEE MACHINE AT WORK!”

There was a beat.

“Jay, what the heck?” Hissed Adrien.

Marinette walked back in. “Guess who has been promoted to favorite.”

Dick gasped. “Wait, I was favorite beforehand?”

“No, Adrien was. I’m not telling you which kid was winning.”

“Hold up, I’ve been replaced as favorite over caffeine?”

Marinette nodded. She stole Tim’s laptop bag from him and then set three cans of the energy drink inside.

“Great, I’m off for real now.”

Jason slammed his head on the table, partially pulling his mother out of her stupor. “OH MY KWAMI. Mom. Tim has been living with us --.”

Adrien had clamped his hand over the kid’s mouth, but it was too late.

Marinette’s eyes slowly found their way to Tim and her face shifted from bored to angry in half a second.

He swallowed thickly. “M’lady, I can explain.”

“Please do.”

He hesitated. He hadn’t thought he’d get this far.

Her grip tightened on the strap of her bag when her phone went off in her pocket. She bit her lip and shook her head. She told her boss that she would be late because of a family matter, her eyes never leaving his.

He gave his most award-winning smile.

The kids filed out, though they both knew that they were going to just stand outside the door to listen in.

“Adrien, Tim has parents. You realize you essentially kidnapped that kid.”

“He went willingly!”

“Tell that to the cops!” She gave a bitter laugh. “Wait, you already are!”

He winced. “I know, I’m sorry. I couldn’t just leave him with his parents, though, they suck.”

Marinette clicked her tongue. “We can’t keep him. He isn’t ours and, even if he was, we hardly have the time to take care of three kids!”

“Dick can take care of himself, he’s an adult. So we’re back down to two! Actually, he can help take care of Tim, too, so less than two!”

“Remember when we said we wouldn’t have any?!”

“But we did fine!”

She groaned. “You’re not getting my point!”

“And you’re not getting mine! We can’t just leave that kid to suffer!”

“He’d suffer if he was with us, too!”

“He deserves people that love him to take care of him!”

“So does every kid on Earth! Are you going to adopt them all?!”

He rolled his eyes. “I want to but we have a limit... but this isn’t it! We’ve been doing just fine so far! He’s attached to us, we can’t just throw him out now!”

“I can’t let this one slide because I keep letting kids come in. It has to stop.”

“This is the last one,” he promised.

“I’ve heard that one before.”

“But I mean it this time.”

She scrutinized him for a long time, her lips pressed tightly together.

And then she clicked her tongue.

“Last one,” she muttered, pulling a new can from her bag and then turning. “I’ll see you after work.”

He watched her leave. He should say something, he should call her back and apologize, he should at least admit that what he was doing was wrong…

The front door slammed.

He slowly fell back into a chair and rested his face in his hands… only to realize it was wet. How long had he been crying? He breathed out a sigh.

He could feel eyes on him. He peeked between his fingers and saw the kids standing in the doorway, mouths slightly agape. He wiped his face on his sleeve and brought a smile back to his face.

Jason messed with his rings as he turned around and walked to his room.

“You didn’t want kids?” Asked Dick quietly.

His smile slid from his face.

“Not exactly. We wanted kids, but we figured we’d never be able to have them. I’m sorry it came out that way.”

Dick relaxed a little bit.

Adrien pushed himself up and walked over to Tim, resting a hand on top of his head.

“Right, welcome to the family, officially.”

Marinette rested her head on her desk.

“Um…?” Began Ross.

“Don’t. I’m not in the mood.”

“Okay.”

She heard his fingers get back to work on his keyboard and closed her eyes.

She’d officially hit a wall. What she needed was to get her hands on the security camera’s footage but she knew that they simply turned off the cameras when they let someone go.

Her mind wandered to Tim.

She bit her lip and sat up, pulling up a new tab and searching up “Haly’s Circus Dick Grayson” but, to her surprise, she found that any footage of her son during his time there had been scrubbed clean.

So, the kid had been telling the truth?

Well, he might be able to fix her current problem…

And, honestly, she was pretty much desensitized to the idea of a kid vigilante at this point. Partially because their family was up to four people who started being vigilantes as kids and partially because Dick and Jason had saved Marinette and Adrien quite a few times.

Besides, like it or not Tim was in the family now. That’s pretty much the main requirement, it seems.

That night she approached Tim about hacking.

“Right, what exactly would you need to hack into the police station security cameras?”

He frowned. “Probably a new computer that isn’t linked to me as a person. And I’d probably need to be inside the security room for a while, or at least the building.”

She thought about this for a minute and nodded. “Okay. I can get you that. Anything else?”

“Can I have a miraculous?”

She waved her hand vaguely. “Yeah, I was going to give you one anyways so we don’t have to do as much to delete footage… I was thinking the horse miraculous. Then you could get in and out of rooms pretty easily.”

“Cool. What are we trying to do, anyways?”

“Keep them from turning off the cameras when they need to do…” She trailed off, pursing her lips tightly. She knew this kid was around thirteen or fourteen, surely he knew all the kinds of things that went down at the GCPD, but she couldn’t bring herself to say anything. “... stuff.”

Tim nodded slightly. “I can do that, but I’d need to hide some kind of generator in the room. They might be unplugging the cameras to turn them off, I’d need to change some plugs around.”

“Great.”

They clinked their cans of energy drink together in a sort of toast.

Adrien should have expected something to go wrong.

Barbara and Dick had convinced the commissioner to go out to eat with them. Dick was now stressed for two reasons: the mission and the fact that he was officially meeting the parents.

Marinette had cleared a good amount of the precinct by offering to buy drinks. Even if her relationship with the precinct was… less than friendly, few people said no to free drinks paid for by the richest person there. This was mostly just to make sure people weren’t going to do overtime.

And Jason had drawn away the people currently on shift by ‘accidentally’ bowling over an abandoned building while on patrols.

Now it was just up to Adrien and Tim.

There was obviously a few people still there, it would have been too much to hope that the entire place would be empty. It didn’t matter, though, no one was suspicious of them. After all, Marinette would need a ride home and it wasn’t as if he could take Tim to a bar to wait.

And no one was suspicious of the fact that Tim had quickly pulled out his computer to ‘play some games’. Adrien had pulled out his phone as well, mostly to monitor the chats and make sure everyone was doing alright but also because he was bored.

A half hour later he got a tiny tug on his sleeve and looked down to see Tim shaking his head.

Great. On to plan B.

“Does anyone know where the bathroom is?”

They transformed in the bathroom and looked at each other nervously. They’d wanted plan A to work because it wouldn’t draw any attention to the security room…

Tim opened a portal inside and they stepped through. It was only two guys, and Adrien made quick work of them. He tied them up in some spare cables he found and pushed himself back to his feet.

Tim just waved him off and opened a portal for him.

He grinned as he dropped onto the floor of the main room. He looked around casually at the ten people that were still there. One of them was in just charge of guarding the prison, but the other nine were cops.

He tipped his head from side to side, weighing his chances as the cops began pulling out their guns.

Hm. This was much scarier when they could actually see him.

“Don’t move from that spot!”

Adrien raised his eyebrows, glancing at the officer who’d said it. Officer Ross. Of course.

He gave a tiny shrug. “If you say so.”

He extended his staff and smiled when it hit the cop nearest him in the face.

Then Adrien hooked it under a desk and tossed it at Ross.

Great. Now that he had spited that guy, he swung his weapon in a wide arc and took out the lights.

He smiled brightly at the now dark room and looked around as the cops scrambled. Some had already done this before and others had heard the story, but no one was looking for a repeat except for Adrien. He extended his staff to get to the ceiling and considered the people below...

A few of them shot blindly at where he had just been, which was a terrible idea but whatever.

He made his way through the room. He wasn’t killing anyone, though it was tempting after hearing some of Marinette’s stories, just opting to their weapons and moving onto the next person.

He also maybe broke some bones in the process. It happens.

A few minutes later he started making his way back to the security room and he grinned when he saw Tim coming out. He had his laptop under his arm. They’d succeeded.

Adrien took a quick look around and spotted a security camera. “Got it?”

“No, they deleted everything,” he lied.

He forced himself to frown (it was surprisingly hard to do after years of smiling for every camera he saw). “Dang. Guess we’ll need a new plan then. Let’s get home.”

Tim opened a portal back to the bathroom and they detransformed. They waited a few minutes before Adrien slowly peeked his head out the door. He held Tim behind him protectively as they walked through the precinct.

They got to the main room and found everyone groaning. A few of them had found flashlights or had turned on computers for lights.

“Is everyone okay? I heard gunshots!” Said Adrien, frowning.

Officer Ross, whose arm was bent at an odd angle, gave the kindest smile he could. “It’s fine, we just had a vigilante come by. It seems like everything is done, now, though.”

Adrien nodded a little bit.

“Good. Everything’s done.”

Marinette was one of ten people who didn’t get a jail sentence.

Now, she eyed the two-weeks notice on her desk. No one would be suspicious if she decided to leave. Fifty people had gone to jail, no one wants to stick around to see if they’re next.

Commissioner Gordon had resigned, too. Something about how he was disgusted about being so blind.

She bit her lip as she sat there at her desk, her computer on a How To video on quitting if you technically had no boss. Unfortunately, it seemed that she had phrased the question wrong because now it was telling her how to shut down a sole proprietorship.

“Agreste?”

She paused the video and looked up, her head tipping to the side as she took the man in. She knew that she knew him from somewhere, but her brain couldn’t seem to place a name to the face. “That’s me.”

“Could I speak to you alone for a minute?”

“Uh… sure. I’d love to.”

“I was thinking the roof? That’s a pretty private place, don’t you think?”

She pursed her lips tightly. She did not like where this was going in the slightest. “Well, sometimes people take their smoke break up there --.”

“Don’t worry, I know there’s no one up there.”

“Oh. Great.”

“Isn’t it?”

She nodded, letting him lead the way to the roof.

Her hand dipped into her back pocket and she cursed herself out mentally when she realized it was still on her desk. She wondered if she could get away with asking to go back for it. Somehow, she doubted it.

Marinette closed the door behind them.

She smiled at the man. “You wanted to talk?”

“I don’t think you’re stupid, Agreste.” He turned and flashed her a blinding smile. “Why don’t you guess what’s going on?”

“Well… I assume I’m in trouble,” she said carefully. Her eyes searched nearby rooftops and windows. “And that you have at least one person around that could kill me, probably a sniper since you chose a rooftop and not an alley.”

“Correct!” He said. He turned away from her and started pacing around. “What do you think you’re in trouble for?”

She hummed as if in thought. “You seem to be the one asking all the questions. Mind if I at least know who you are?”

“I asked you a question first.”

She forced a tiny laugh. “Sure, but no one likes admitting when they do things wrong. Besides, what if I fess up to the wrong thing? Then I have two reasons for you to want to kill me.”

“Just. Guess.”

Hm…

He couldn’t know about her being Ladybug, they’d done too much to make sure no one knew her identity. No one outside of Dick had ever done anything that could be traced back to them, and all that footage was gone from the internet forever.

Then what could he have found out about?

“Honestly, I don’t know.”

He scrutinized her face for a minute before frowning and shaking his head. “Agoura.”

“Huh?”

“My name. It’s Antony Agoura.”

Oh. Oh fuck.

Well, at least now she knew where she’d seen him before?

He folded his hands in front of him, smiling at her. “I see you know me.”

“Of course I do.”

He nodded. “Good. Now, I want to ask you a question.”

“Another one?” She said quietly.

“Mhmm. I’d like to know if you think I’m stupid.”

“Of course not.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “You know, the day that Chat Noir bust into the police station was odd.”

“I wouldn’t know. I wasn’t there.”

“Yep! Odd, don’t you think? Someone who previously didn’t get along with her coworkers suddenly decides to take them all out for free drinks. That same night, her son takes the commissioner out to dinner. The precinct was almost completely empty thanks to your family.”

Great. That was why that was plan B. She was screwed.

She nodded slightly, her throat tightening. “You don’t say…”

“And, on top of that, the vigilantes were acting weird! I mean, they were all set on distracting people and keeping them as far away as possible!”

“That’s… odd.”

“Mhmm!” He smiled and rested a hand on her shoulder. “An interesting coincidence, don’t you think?”

She nodded again, fighting the urge to shrug him off. “Yeah.”

He steered her to the door. “I’d like to congratulate you on your promotion, by the way.”

“The…?”

“Being commissioner is such an honor!”

She scoffed. “You couldn’t get away with that. I’m the newest person here, it’s too suspicious.”

“You think?”

“Yeah --.”

He opened the door and she fought the urge to flinch at all the cameras suddenly flashing in her face.

“Congratulations!”

“How do you feel about being the first commissioner of asian descent?”

Her eyes widened. Oh. So, it turns out Agoura definitely could get away with that.

She glanced to the side to see the cops who had been there longer clapping with sarcastic smiles on their faces. “Congrats!” Said one in a tone that definitely said that she was dead.

The mob boss moved his grip to hug her to his side, smiling brightly and waving at the press.

“Smile for the cameras, Agreste.”

~~~

Taglist

@i-am-ironic @nathleigh @mialuvscats @golden-promises @sassakitty @deathwishy @toodaloo-kangaroo @ladythugs @moonlightstar64 @dahjokester @jjmjjktth

#adrienette #adrien agreste #chat noir #marinette dupain cheng #ladybug #maribat #dick grayson #nightwing #jason todd #red hood #tim drake #red robin #cassandra cain #orphan #damian wayne #robin

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yomiurinikei · 4 years ago

Note

Give me “Nikei being allowed to be angy like he is seen in void theater and void being chill with it because they’re used to it and know how to help him” with a side of “non despair au” please! Your content is shsl wonder and I love it ❤️

waaaaa thank u so much!!! i hope u like this? not too happy with it, but! ur always free to give feedback, talk abt what you would've liked to see, and request more!!

~*~

•mr yomiuri is a bit prone to ego issues, as we've seen,,

•so he'll get way too overly reliant on one articles success: if it gets a lot of attention quickly? instant serotonin!

•buuut when a news outlet uses his article, rewords it, and publishes that for more traction than he gets?

•instant fucking wrath. he'll slam his laptop closed/throw his phone if he's at home, just to pull the page back up and reread after 5 seconds of sitting in shock.

•if he's out doing things, he'll do his best to stay calm, but take the first chance he can get to go compare articles

•his vv first step is always immediately to form an argument - in this case, going through and highlighting things that were directly copied, etc

•second step? go scream-cry about this to another child of utsuro

•pov ur emma trying to get ready for the day when nikei slams ur door open, shoves his phone in ur face, then starts screaming abt "blatant theft"

•everyone has their own leedle ways of helping him^^

•iroha tries to alleviate any nerves, and tells him that it's not that bad - she's not usually too successful, and he's prone to either snapping at her, or getting deprecative and deciding that he should shut up bc everyone will think he's making a mountain out of a molehill

•cue emma, who will b angy right beside him!

•she supports him and validates that he deserves better!

•emma says he should come vibe with her for a bit so they can work on how they're gonna trash these bitches reputations

•just to sneak in self-care and self-love time, because it's important to have a snack while u work on ruining careers <3

•hajime helps to reassure him that he's valid for being upset, but reminds him that just calling people "little bitches" isn't gonna work well

•speaking of - regardless of whether or not nikei gets justice, he doesn't calm down with this

•which the others know by now, and they're prepared for: "that-one-weird-stage-where-he-rapid-switches-between-anger-and-being-sad"

•nikei: fuck you, i hate you, go die

hajime: okay! anyways where do u wanna order pizza from, u get to decide, and it's okay no matter what u choose, just get what u want

•nikei will get all self-deprecating and talk abt how maybe his work is trash and others deserve credit over him

•iroha says that if he lets people steal his work, she'll make him steal credit for her paintings - even threatening to sign them under his name if he doesn't stop discrediting his work

•and should everything fail, and no one cares that nikeis being hurt?

•well! sure would be funny if emma started using her huge platform and major following on most social media's to draw attention to this bad news outlet, stealing from a vv good journalist who her fans should totally support - i mean look at how nice he is too her in his articles!

•nikei is a little bit allergic to showing his love and appreciation, in case u couldn't tell;;

•but! he's still sure to apologize if he made any personal attacks while upset, and beyond that, hes sure to show his appreciation in other little ways

•so if the house seems a bit cleaner than normal, or nikei writes some new articles praising them, the others just give him a extra smile, and say nothing more^^

•no matter what it is upsetting nikei, and how he expresses his wrath, the others are always there for him, and know that they're helping him feel better

#sdra2 #nikei yomiuri #hajime makunouchi #emma magorobi #iroha nijiue #children of utsuro #i'm allergic to mikado in so sorry but he just does not exist

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vangoghmusings · 4 years ago

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genre: 18+ minors dni !!

pairing: @melanimed x villain!deku

warnings: kidnapping, unprotected sex, oral (izuku receiving), stockholm syndrome

a/n: gasp pat doing another art trade with tay? what a shock! but seriously tay i hope you like this!! i’ve never written villain deku so sorry if its totally awful lol

When Tay was told she was assigned write an article on the Yakuza group led by the infamous Deku, she had no idea what it would hold for her. She had written plenty of journal articles on other groups, but this was different. For this, she would have to go undercover. When her boss told her an anonymous tip regarding the group’s main hideout location, she was sent straight over.

“Why did I ever agree to this?” She mumbled to herself as walked the steps of the rundown bar.

She exhaled deeply and stepped inside. There were few people inside, some sitting in booths, others sitting at the bar. All talking lowly, more invested in their drinks than anything else. That was until Tay’s presence was noticed. The bartender, a man with burned skin and dark hair stared at her before leaning down to a blonde girl seated at the bar that looked much too young to be there. She peered over her shoulder to look at Tay before turning back to the bartender, giving him a nod and walking out of the room and to the back. Tay eyed the exchange curiously before making her way to the bar and sitting down.

“What can I get you?” The bartender asked lowly.

“A bourbon sour?”

He nodded and got to work on the drink.

“This bar doesn’t get much traction, what brings you here?”

Tay tried her best not to fidget in her seat at the question as the bartender’s bright blue eyes peered down at her.

“Well, I’d been meaning to check out new places, so I figured I’d try this place out.”

“It doesn’t seem like your kind of vibe,” He mumbled, eyeing her up and down as he finished the drink and handed it to her. Tay stood out like a sore thumb, dressed nicely, young, well put together and pretty.

Before she could take a sip from her drink, a hand was placed on her shoulder, causing her to jump. She turned to see a green haired man with freckled cheeks dressed formally, a leather gloved hand placed firmly against her.

“Pardon me doll, I couldn’t help but notice you’re new to our establishment. I’m Izuku, the manager.”

Tay’s eyes widened, realizing that Deku, the Yakuza leader was standing next to her. She cleared her throat, trying her best to speak through nerves.

“Nice to meet you, I’m Tay.”

Izuku nodded and gave her a wide grin, exposing his sharp canines. Tay gave him a weak smile as he sat down beside her and began to take his leather gloves off.

“So, Tay, what do you do if you don’t me asking. We don’t get many...pretty girls like you here.”

Tay turned to sip her drink, beginning to feel trapped. What would he do to her? Kill her? Send her organs in a box back to her box as a message from his group?

“I’m a writer.”

“Ah a writer! Well, I have some story ideas of my own! Let me show you!”

Before Tay could pull away, with an iron grip Izuku pulled her off her chair and dragged her to the back room. Tay quickly realized that her boss should’ve assigned someone stronger to the job as Izuku brought her to this dark room, plopped her on a cold metal chair and presumed to tie her to it.

“S-Sir what are you-”

“Shut up,” He snarled while tying down her.

Tay looked around frantically and, in a panic, began to scream. Swiftly, Izuku’s hand shot up and gripped her jaw, squishing her face firmly.

“I told you to shut up- besides, do you think they’ll listen? They all work for me!” He said with a laugh. Tay whimpered in pain from his hold. Izuku smiled maniacally before letting go. “You make such pretty noises doll...so, what do you really do?” He asked, all wild joy leaving his face and being replaced by a stern glare.

“A-A journalist!” Tay answered with a choked sob. Izuku nodded.

“So, you’re not a total liar,” He said, sitting down, propping himself up on his heels. He smiled with a strange kindness and cupped her face gently, running his thumb down her bottom lip. “You’ll make a pretty pet.”

Angrily, Tay bit down on his thumb harshly, Izuku hissing as he pulled away, the tug causing his skin to tear. Izuku paused and grinned down at his thumb, watching at a bead of blood spilled out. He quickly sucked on it and turned back to Tay.

“Seems like I’ll have to take my time taming you though. Now,” he said stepping back to her, “What’s your clothing size?”

Tay blinked.

“What?”

“Well, you can’t expect me to let you live solely in that dress, can I? I need your sizes doll. I’ll send Toga to get you some clothes right now.”

Tay narrowed her eyes at him.

“That won’t be necessary because I’m not staying with you,” she spat.

Izuku chuckled and tapped her leg with his foot, her body tightly wound up by the rope that held her to the chair.

“Really? Because I don’t see you going anywhere any time soon.”

Tay huffed and looked down, tears beginning to spill.

“Oh no no no, that won’t do doll, I can’t have you crying!” Izuku exclaimed and gently lifted her chin up and began to kiss her tears. It was odd, how quickly the tears stopped, Izuku’s lips providing comfort despite being her captor. “Now, let's go home.”

That was the last day Tay had seen the public world. She had been living with Izuku in his secluded mansion for about a month now. She had no idea whether her family was looking for her or if her work had realized she never came back. But she soon came to realize she had no desire going back. There were countless of times she had considered running and never looking back, but there was no place in her heart to do so. Not when Izuku had taken up most of its face.

It was true, and she knew it, that she had fallen in love with her captor. But how could she not? He clothed her, fed her, spent time with her, and made her feel more loved than anyone else had before. It was strange, how his manic persona provided her with so much comfort. After Tay had spent her second month with Izuku willingly, he brought home a kitten, a little pet for his pet he said. She was the happiest she could’ve imagined.

It was the late afternoon, nearing sunset when Tay’s kitten, which she named Toffee batted her nose to wake her up from her nap. Tay yawned and giggled, waking up slowly.

“Mm, what is it girl?” She said sitting up from the couch.

Toffee mewled and she picked her up, placing a kiss on her brown tortoise fur. Toffee licked up Tay’s arm and began to purr from her owner’s affections. Tay sighed and looked down at the golden watch that sat on her wrist. A gift from Izuku after a week of staying with him. Since he had taken her phone away, this was her only other way of telling time. It was 8 o’clock, around the time Izuku would usually come home. Tay frowned and bit her lip. She had fallen for Izuku so hard, but she needed more from him. Both her heart and body ached for him in a way she didn’t know was possible. She was too afraid to ask, but now she couldn’t take another moment of it. She loved him and needed to show it.

The sound of the back door unlocking brought Tay back to earth, whipping her head around to see Izuku walking through the door. She couldn’t help but grin as he walked towards her, a matching smile on his face.

“Doll!” He cheered and rushed towards her, picking her up with ease. Toffee meowed and lept out of Tay’s grasp while Izuku held her close. “Mm, I missed you so much,” He sighed happily while placing kisses on her face.

“I missed you too ‘Zuku,” Tay said while giggling at his touch. He pulled away and gave her a dreamy smile.

“God you look gorgeous,” He spoke before pressing his lips against hers, kissing her deeply. Tay smiled against his lips, opening her mouth for him. He smirked and slid his tongue inside, running it along hers. After several minutes of heated kisses, Tay pulled away, desperation across her face.

“’Zuku...can we?”

“Can we what babygirl?” He asked, tilting his head like a wide-eyed confused puppy. Tay bit her lip and mustered up her courage before replying.

“Can we have sex?”

Izuku blinked and raised his eyebrows, his manic grin quickly forming on his face.

“You want me to corrupt you doll?”

Tay nodded, embarrassed heat rushing to her face. Izuku licked his lips and swiftly picked her up, dragging her to his bedroom. Tay grinned, clinging to Izuku and placing soft kisses on his neck. He dropped her on his bed and began unbuttoning his shirt.

“Strip for me,” He ordered.

Tay nodded and quickly removed her clothes and underwear. Izuku watched hungrily as he shed his own clothing. He too had been dying to touch Tay in more ways but had been waiting for her to be truly comfortable with him. Tay kneeled on the bed in front of him as he took off his boxers, his hard length springing up and hitting his stomach. Tay’s eyes widened at his unexpected size and shifted on the bed, feeling her pussy pool in arousal. He was long and thick, a prominent vein running up the side. Tay licked his lips hungrily and looked up at him.

“Aw, do you wanna suck my cock babygirl?” Izuku asked, pumping his length in his hand.

Tay nodded and opened her mouth up for him. Izuku smirked and gave a couple experimental slaps on her tongue with his cock before pushing it in her mouth. A small groan escaped him as her wide eyes looked up at him, obediently sucking on him, droop dripping down her bottom lip. “Good girl,” He murmured and gripped her hair in a fist. The more that small moans the Izuku let out, the more needy Tay became, reaching down to touch herself. Izuku glared down at her.

“Slut, what are you doing? That cunt of yours is mine and you’re not allowed to touch it unless I say so,” He snarled.

Tay whimpered around him and pulled her hand away. Izuku frowned as she began to shift her weight and squeeze her thighs together. He hated not being able to please her.

“Fine, you want to be a good slut for me?”

Tay batted her lashes in response, sucking happily around Izuku. He smirked and leaned down, growling in her ear.

“Then you’re going to have to take this cock until you’re begging me to stop fucking your tight little cunt.”

Tay whimpered at his words and he swiftly gripped her curls and pulled her off his length, a pop noise filling the room. As soon as he ordered her to do so, Tay lay down on her back and spread her legs for him.

“Good girl,“ He purred and lined himself up with her. Without warning, he pushed his entire length inside of her, not giving her anytime to accommodate the stretch his massive size provided, one loud moan ripping from her throat. Izuku gripped her legs and pressed them against her chest, pushing himself further inside her. Tay moaned at his size and bit down on her knuckle.

“No need for that babygirl,” He said moving her hand away from her mouth. “I want to hear you screaming.”

And with that, Izuku snapped his hips, thrusting into her with a harsh rhythm. Tay groaned, her eyes rolling back at the pleasure of feeling so incredibly full. Her pussy had a vice grip on his cock, which was fucking relentlessly into her.

“Such a good little whore,” he grunted while thrusting into her, “Taking my cock without any prep, mm how bad did you want me to stuff that little cunt?”

“S-so bad,” Tay cried, her eyes shut in bliss.

“Who owns this cunt?”

“Y-you sir!”

“Good pet,” He smirked, reaching down to wrap his cant around her throat. Tay moaned even louder at the pressured contact, only fueling Izuku even more, leading him to completely bottom out. Izuku grunted, thrusting hard; hitting her g-spot repeatedly with no intention of slowing down.

“Mm, I’m gonna fill you up so good, my little cumslut.”

Tay shivered at the name, her climax coming.

“Sir, p-please I’m gonna cum!”

Izuku moaned at her begging tone and nodded, tightening his grip around her throat.

“Cum with me babygirl.”

And with that, Tay’s orgasm crashed hard, her back arching as she let out a pleasured scream. At the same time, Izuku continued to thrust sloppily and soon came inside her as he watched her gush around his cock. He moaned feeling her walls flutter around him, milking him of all his cum hungrily.

“G-good girl,” He panted, his green locks matted against his sweaty forehead. He gave Tay a proud smile and kissed her lovingly before pulling out. She weakly sat up, only for Izuku to shush her and lay down beside her, wrapping her in his arms. “You did so well doll.”

“Thank you,” She answered breathlessly, soaking in his embrace. He placed a soft kiss on her neck.

“Are you hungry? I can have Dabi bring us some take-out.”

“That actually sounds really nice,” Tay beamed. Izuku smiled and nodded.

“Okay, in the time he gets here you can rest before round two!” He exclaimed with his classic manic grin. Tay laughed and snuggled into his hold, feeling more thankful than ever to have been blessed with meeting the Yakuza leader.

#I LOVE YOU TAY #tay x izuku #izuku x oc #deku x oc #izuku smut #deku smut #art trade

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t100ficrecsblog · 4 years ago

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an interview with @burninghoneyatdusk (she/her) What are you working on right now? Right now I’m prioritizing prompts for the Bellarke Writers for BLM Initiative, which is a mix of new prompts and requests for WIP updates. I just posted a chapter update of my fic Voices in the Water, which is a canon-verse/everyone is a grounder arranged marriage AU with a bit of a twist, and next I’m working on a new prompt. After that, I’ve got three chapters of All Because of You requested. All Because of You is a modern AU with bellarke as *platonic* coparents. The story is told in alternating flashbacks and present day (every other chapter). The flashbacks focus on them growing closer during Clarke’s unplanned pregnancy and the present is seven years later, where they have to come to terms with their feelings for each other when Clarke gets engaged to someone else.

What’s something you’d like to write one day? I would love to publish a novel one day. For years I had a YA dystopian/time travel trilogy kind of planned but I poked too many holes in it and want to start from scratch in that regard. Another novel I want to write is one that covers three generations of women, looking at mother-daughter relationships, women in society, generational trauma… a lot of stuff. It was inspired by learning about my grandmother’s life more and thinking about how it impacted her relationship with my mother, and in turn my mother’s relationship with me.

For fanfiction, beyond my current prompts and WIPs, I have two other fics outlined. One is an AU inspired by the movie Plus One. The other is a soulmate AU that’s a bit dark and involves immortality, magic, and essentially Bellamy as a villain with a redemption arc.

What is the fanwork you’re most proud of? I think All Because of You will probably remain my most popular, but right now I’m most proud of Voices in the Water. More so than my other fics, it has a more concise plot and I’ve done a deeper dive into Clarke’s character as an Azgeda assassin and I think the reader really gets into her head more than my other multiple POV fics. It’s also my first canonverse fic and I’ve enjoyed diving into that world and expanding upon it where I want.

When did you first start writing fic? I didn’t start writing fic until the beginning of 2019. I first published in February 2019, which was Homesick (It’s a Bittersweet Feeling). It was my first fic and the only multichapter WIP that’s complete right now, so it’s a special story for me.

What frustrates you most about fic writing? I’ve mostly had only a positive experience with fanfic writing. With the exception of a couple stray comments, my readers have been gracious, kind, and most importantly, patient. But I guess it can be challenging when you self-impose pressure because you’re aware that people are waiting for you to publish so sometimes I rush things. I haven’t personally experienced this, but I think that fic writing can also be frustrating when readers feel like you owe them something or unnecessarily offer negative comments that aren’t at all constructive. Some people forget that people are publishing stories for free, in their spare time, often in addition to full-time jobs or school and parenting.

What are your top five songs right now? 1. castles (freya ridings) 2. maniac (conan gray) 3. fired up (grace carter) 4. I am not afraid (g flip) 5. wanna be (betty who)

What are your inspirations? (books, songs, other fic) I take inspiration from all of those things but I would say mostly quotes and random photos on tumblr. I wrote Homesick because I liked the step-siblings/forbidden trope and wanted to write in a small town setting like the one I grew up in. All Because of You was honestly the classic “this is my bedtime daydream story I think about every night” so it’s pretty self-indulgent with the tropes I wanted to use. Voices in the Water was started because I loved the grounder!Bellamy / arranged marriage trope. The wanheda twist came from me reading the 4x11 script to screen with Clarke trying to force herself to shoot Bellamy to save humanity, but realizing that she can’t.

What first attracted you to Bellarke? What attracts you now? I’m not sure I remember a specific moment but I think I remember bellarke being all over my tumblr dash when I started s2 so kind of paying close attention to them during s2. s2 was of course a great season for them and by the ‘knocking on heaven’s door’ scene in 2x16 I was a goner.

Regarding what drew me to them, I think I’ve always loved a good slow burn with the partners/”I’ve got your back” vibe that they have. My first (and biggest) OTP before them was tony & ziva from NCIS which is a really similar vibe although a very different show.

Besides Bellarke, what character or pairing do you like best on t100? I think that Memori is probably my second place ship. Before s7, I would say there was a HUGE gap between my love of Bellarke and Memori, but this season has made me an even bigger Memori fan. I have to say that while I don’t think there was ever a chance of Murven happening, I do understand why people ship it. I think they have great chemistry/a great dynamic and in another life, so to speak, I would have shipped them.

Regarding characters on their own, I just love all my delinquents, but I think that Murphy is solidly my third favorite character. Raven and Octavia are probably tied behind him.

Why did you decide to start bellarkefic-for-blm? I credit the reason to Kara ( @queenemori ). (Sidenote: everyone go follow her! She’s an amazing fanfic writer and overall just a really positive, awesome person to have in the fandom). I remember reading her post - and I won’t try to paraphrase, so please take the time to read her it - but in general it got me thinking about how we as a fandom could support the BLM movement in a substantial way that is more than just spreading posts on social media, and in a way that doesn’t lose momentum as time goes on and the movement becomes less “trendy.” I thought about how many people collectively read our fanfiction and how we provide it for free, and if people could just pay a few dollars or however much they can afford and donate that to the cause, we collectively could make a huge difference. So that’s what I’m hoping this is - making a substantial difference in a way that doesn’t fade in time and also uses the power of fandom in a useful way. We have a lot of power if we collectively put it towards something like this instead of fighting over ships or actors or whatnot. I also figured that maybe we’d have readers who weren’t paying attention to the movement and that maybe because they want to submit a prompt, they’d do some research on where to donate, and that in turn helps educate them on the issue - or is at least a start.

Has it been as successful as you’d hoped? So on the positive side, I do think it’s incredible that in about six weeks we’ve raised nearly $1250 and have been able to donate to a variety of organizations. I’m incredibly grateful for the authors donating their time and the enthusiastic readers participating. I don’t mean to sound negative at all, but if I’m being honest, I do feel a little frustration at the lack of participation across the fandom as a whole or maybe more specifically across the AO3 readers. I know that my WIP chapters average about 1k hits per update. That’s a lot of people. Even if you cut that in half because maybe people are rereading, that’s still 500 people. So why are only about 20 of my readers donating to this initiative? I think it’s a bit discouraging when you look at the percentage in that way.

That’s not to say that I don’t understand that some aren’t financially in a position to donate, but I’ve made it clear that there are other ways to contribute (e.g. signing petitions, writing to politicians) and there hasn’t been traction with that either. So I think that in general, something is always better than nothing and it has in no way discouraged me from continuing this. But I’m hoping that more people are able to participate as time goes on. It’s truly a win-win situation of generating more fanfics for readers and donating to an important issue, so I hope to see the percentage of fanfiction readers submitting prompts increase and am doing what I can to continue spreading the word about it.

I guess in summary what I’m saying is, I’m proud of what the fandom has done so far, but let’s step it up. We can do more, we can do better. Maybe people will get pissed I said that, but idk. If you read fic and can buy a $3 coffee, you can donate to this cause. It’s important. As was Kara’s point, let’s not see this momentum fade when the BLM movement becomes less ~trendy~.

What are some things you’d like to recommend? Instead of writing an essay about all the fics I love, I’d like to link both my bookmarked fics which is my complete list of bellarke fic recs.

I also want to recommend visiting the Bellarke Writers for BLM Initiative writers’ page - these writers are incredible so please go check out their existing works and continue requesting prompts for the BLM movement!

On the note of BLM, I'd also like to link this article. It's older, written in the aftermath of the Charleston attack, but it remains one of the most thought provoking pieces I've read on race in our country.

it was my honor to interview burninghoneyatdusk! honestly, if you aren’t reading Voices in the Water, which is Bellarke except Clarke is an assassin, you should be. it haunts me. she also organized the very cool bellarkefic-for-blm.

#bellarke fic #bellarke #the 100 fanfiction #memori #clarke griffin #interview

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trickkombowerskru · 5 years ago

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VIP-Ryan “Trick” Trebecki X Reader Smut

Request:Anonymous: OOOOMG ur imagines are to die for! i was thinkin about one that’s like trick dating a girl who fronted a band or played in a band and like he’s so in like awe and like ajdkdldl and after she’s done they have cute smut n stuff? ik you have one about the singer, but idk ?? thank you!!!

A/N: I am so sorry for the long wait, thank you for being so patient anon. 💕

Warnings: NSFW, Sex

"Thank you!," you exclaim into the crowd as your band finishes its set.

Tonight was your first real gig, it was in a local bar, and after pulling some string with a friend who worked there you had managed to snag an audition. While it wasn't a ginormous crowd by any means it was still decently, despite tonight being your first big gig you were gaining some traction around town.

You tell your band mates you'll help load up in a sec as you see your boyfriend making his way towards you.

"Holy shit babe that was amazing!" Ryan exclaims pulling you into a hug and a kiss.

"Yeah. You liked it?"

"Loved it. Especially that one song."

"Oh you mean that one song about you?"

"Was it? I had no idea," he jokes in an over exaggerated making you roll your eyes at him.

"Okay but seriously what did I do to get such an amazingly talented girlfriend?"

"I don't know what did I do to get such a cute groupie," you tease making it your turn to joke.

"I have to help pack up, but once I'm done what do you say I give you the vip backstage experience?"

"Oh. Does everyone get this experience?"

You smile putting your arms around his neck.

"Oh no. This is exclusive only to my ever so handsome number one fan."

"Well that sounds like a steal," he plays along.

You help finish loading up the van, then head back to Ryan. Taking his hand you show him around the small backstage area, one flirty joke lead to another, and now you were here in the tiny greenroom with a locked door as he had you against the wall and left a line of kisses down your neck.

He hits your sensitive spot making you left out a quiet moan and you can feel him smirk against your skin. He pulls away and looks at you with eyes that you know mean he's asking if you wanna go further. You simply nod, and he continues his attack on your neck.

As you make your way to the small leather couch, barley able to fit the two of you, you shimmy off your jackets. Every time another article of clothing gets removed you could see Ryan taking a second to himself to admire you and your body. That boy was absolutely crazy about you and was like the number one insecurity shut down.

He comes up from where he was now kissing and playing with your boobs to smile at you.

"God you're so beautiful," he whispers.

He continues his rounds over kisses before again stopping at your thighs before he gives you what your craving, he sticks one finger into you, again smiling when he feels how aroused you already are for him.

"And so wet," he adds.

After a bit of his fingers driving you crazy, he pulls them out making you let you a whine before he replaces them with his mouth.

"Fuck Ry!" you moan with broken gasp as he works you with his skilled as fuck tongue, having you cumming in no time.

He gives you a few minutes to come down from your high before he slowly slides into, giving you a minute to adjust like always. He continues this slow almost agonizing pace until he knows you're fully ready for him.

It's then that he speeds up his thrusts while still very much keeping his usual sweet nothings whispered in your ear, as his hair falls into his face, slightly tickling yours.

Unless is was a hard kind of night or you asked this is how things usually played out Ryan always rather wanting to "make love" to you instead of "fuck". Especially tonight since he was so damn proud of you and always still shocked by how damn talented you were.

His thrusts get sloppy before your second orgasm launches him into his own.You two lay there for a few minutes, heavily breathing as he moves to pull you into his arms.

"Well shit if that's the treatment your number one fan gets I better keep that spot huh?" he jokes while catching his breath.

"Oh Babe you got that spot on lock," you reply as you smile and kiss him.

Once your breath is caught and you're dresses you make sure to clean up the mess and then head back to your place for a night of cuddles and more ever loving compliments from your number one fan.

#black mirror #ryan trick trebecki #ryan trebecki #ryan trebecki imagine #ryan trebecki x reader #ryan trebecki smut #owen teague

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darlingpeter · 6 years ago

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i believe it could be.

“can i get uuuuuuh pre movie eddie flirting with reader as he's crafting an article about them”

eddie brock is such a sweetie and i’ve been excited about this ever since i went to go see the film!! also this is one of the best requests i’ve ever received, hands down. please only send in requests if they’re in this format. thank you.

(title is from peace train by cat stevens)

pairing: pre-movie!eddie brock x reader

warnings: none!

length: 1119 words

part two - part three

“So how did you break into the San Francisco art scene?”

You were sitting in a coffee shop, sipping on a cappuccino as Eddie Brock tapped his pen against his lip absentmindedly. You were the subject of an article he was writing about up-and-coming artists making impact with their work in the bay area. You could admit that you were nervous at first: he was the Eddie Brock and you still considered yourself a starving artist - not yet used to the traction that your work had gained in the recent months.

It also didn’t help that he was even cuter in person.

You were a fan of his show and his work, and you were really trying to be conscious of what was coming out of your mouth. His reader-base was huge, and you really wanted to come off as professional just in case future commissioners were in his audience. However, it was taking almost all of your concentration to keep yourself from completely melting under his blue-eyed gaze.

Because of this, the conversation took a more casual tone, and where it wasn’t something you necessarily expected, it was actually very nice. Conversation came easy with Eddie. You had already discovered that the two of you had a similar taste in music, and that you were both looking forward to seeing some films set to premier soon. He had dropped plenty of subtle hints that he would like to go to a show of an artist that you both liked, and that if you needed someone to see a movie with, he was a call away. Unfortunately though, you read the subtlety as him just trying to be nice, and you figured he was just trying to be polite. How embarrassing would it be if you misread the situation? Better safe than sorry, you figured.

“I was lucky to already have a strong network when I moved here. I have a lot of friends with connections in the city, and many of them really paid off in building an audience.” You answered his question, fidgeting with a ring around your finger.

Eddie scrawled a little note in his notebook with a half smile on his face. “I had a feeling you weren’t from around here.”

You raised a brow at his comment. “Oh yeah? How so?”

“Folks around here who are higher up on the food chain tend to be a little, uh,” He sent a quick glance around the shop, making sure that no one was listening. “They tend to be a little self-righteous. Pompous. Like other people owe them something, you know?”

You knew what he meant. It definitely didn’t apply to the majority of the people who lived in the city, but those who held top spots in many city corporations were bitter and entitled. You had had a run-in with a local CEO who wanted to commission a piece from you, but was willing to pay much less than you would normally accept and suggested that having a name like his under your belt would be payment enough for your services. You told him off, said that it was because of jerks like him that people with incredible talents ended up living on the streets with nothing.

You shared this story with Eddie after making sure that he would take it off the record (you made him pinky promise), and it left him grinning, his eyes bright with delight.

“You really said that?” He asked, and you nodded. “That’s so badass. I feel like I need to kiss your ring for that.” He joked, and you played along, extending yours across the table in response.

He took your hand in his and brushed his lips along the delicate skin behind your knuckles before looking up at you and pressing a kiss there. His slightly chapped lips lingered for an extra beat, and your cheeks flushed at the sensation of his stubble scratching at your skin.

You let out a (hopefully not awkward) laugh to play off the situation a little bit and retracted your hand, and color jumped to Eddies cheeks. “That was probably pretty weird, um, thanks for rolling with it.” He laughed, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

“Of course. I wouldn’t pass up an opportunity to feel like some sort of important English noblewoman.”

Eddie and you continued to talk, the point of conversation moving back toward your work and your hopes for the city, but you couldn’t help but think you noticed an extra sparkle in his eye.

After assessing the scrawled notes that he had taken in his notebook, Eddie finally closed it with a sigh. “What’s after this for you?” He asked, capping his pen.

“Do you mean in terms of my career? Or like what i’m doing this weekend?”

Eddie smirked. “I mean what are you doing tomorrow night? Any plans?”

Your heart fluttered. So you weren’t misreading the signs from earlier. “Why? You wanna get coffee with me again?” You asked in a slightly teasing tone.

“Yeah, I mean,” Eddie rubbed at the back of his neck with a nervous chuckle. “I was thinking of something a little stronger. Maybe I pick up a couple of bottles of wine and I cook you dinner?”

“You can cook?”

“Absolutely not.” He laughed. “I was thinking of getting takeout and putting it on plates so I can try to take credit.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. He was definitely the kind of person you could see yourself sitting down and having a good drink with. Though, you wouldn’t mind if more than that were to occur.

“I’d really like that, Eddie.” You told him, and he physically relaxed. “Make it a twelve pack and Thai and I’ll be there.”

“Yes ma’am.”

You reached across the table to grab his pen and scribble your number and address on a stray napkin. You slid it across the table back to him along with his pen. “Pick me up at seven, Brock.” You stood, and grabbed your bag. “I’ll see you later.”

“See you then.” He acknowledged, and you were close enough to hear his breath catch as you leaned in to give him a peck on the cheek before walking out of the shop.

As you walked past the shop window, you spared one more glance inside at the reporter, and looked just in time to see him grin down at the napkin in his hands with the digits on it and do a seated, fist-pumping happy dance. It made you smile. What a dork.

it had been a long time since you had been so excited for a date.

[a/n: hi everyone!! i’m so happy to be back and active on this blog!! my hiatus can be explained by this post here, and i’m so grateful to be in such a supportive community!!

i’ve been out of my element for a while, so all and any feedback is super appreciated because i’m a bit rusty and i’m afraid it showed in this work! let me know what you thought of this. i’ll be checking my messages, inbox, replies to this post, and the tags on reblogs!!

as always, my requests are open!! love you guys!!]

#eddie brock #eddie brock x reader #my writing #request #eddie brock imagine #eddie brock one shot #eddie brock fluff #venom imagine #venom fluff

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mypetshopworld · 5 years ago

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Cracked Paws and Frostbites are a common occurrence in Winter for your dog. 8 simple and easy tips on how to protect the paws of your dog.

Avoid cracked paws, frostbites and itchy paws in wintertime.

I do not know about your dogs, but my dogs love winter and the snow. When winter comes, my dogs spent a long time outside, and it is difficult to get them in.

Yes, my dogs have from time to time cracked paws and frostbites, as well as chemical burns. Most of the time, it is not so severe, because I do take precaution and protect the paws of my dogs. When a dog has a cracked dog paw pad it is not fun for your dog it hurts and it burns. It is like when you have a cracked heel. Dog's paws can be very sensitive. You never know how much salt and other chemicals are thrown onto the streets, sidewalks and footpath by the people and the city. Just to melt the ice and make the walking safe for us humans. It is like with your car before winter comes you bring it to the garage and get the underbody protection. When you have dogs, you know that not every solution is suitable for dogs. Some can tolerate the dog shoes, and some like my dogs hate it. They will chew so long on it that they are shredded in pieces and not useable anymore. They will not stay on for long. There are some tips and products you can use to keep the paws of your dog protected. You have to decide what suits your dog, as you know your dog best.

Protective Balms for cracked and itchy paws before and after treatment.

There are many protective balms available in most pet shops or at Walmart. You can use some human products like Vaseline or Petroleum Jelly. My recommendation what I frequently use and it helps. I use the is the Dog Paw Protection Cream Wax from Mushers, I love the Cream Wax from Mushers as it is specially made for outdoors and it comes in a 200 gr.and 454gr. Cream box. There is plenty of other available please click on the link below to see the list of dog balms available.

Click here to buy the Dog Paw Balm. There are other products available, and I will list here a few. All will do the trick. You might even use some human products, but I prefer the ones made for outdoor and made for dogs.

Before you start, please prep the paws of your dog?

Proper grooming is essential for your dog's paws. Especially if your dog has a long hair coat than use a clipper ( beard trimmer with the shortest plastic guard works wonders) A tip is to keep the hair between the paws short. The hair should even up with the paw pad. Ice balls can be painful for your dog. Well trimmed hairs around the paws make it much easier to put the paw balm on.

Dogs need grooming and trimming of their Nails.

Another part you have to pay attention to is that you make sure the whole year around that the nails are trimmed. Especially in winter, it is essential to take care of well-trimmed nails for your dog as the snow and ice will accumulate between the paw pads and long nails force the paw to splay out. Apply a thin layer of balm just before you go out for a winter walk. After the walk, it is recommended that you wash and wipe your dog's paws with a warm wet cloth to remove the snow, ice and salt. Apply after you dried the paws with another towel put a thin layer of balm to the paws to avoid irritation, itchiness and from drying out. Check for cracks in the paw pad and for redness between the toes.

Pet Paw Balms are available in any pet store.

Copy this code for 2-day free shipping from Walmart. b4efbea05a6402e0631af78b4429ac84 My Tip: When I walk with my dogs, and I use the car to go from A to B. I take a towel and a spray bottle with water with me on our walk, so I can clean off the stinging, irritated paws when my dogs go back into the car. At home also check from time to time cracks in paw pads or redness between the toes.

Protect your Dogs Paws with Dog Booties.

I know that in stores there are different dog booties available. I am not a big friend of it as our dogs as mention before have them off in minutes, and then only parts have been left the rest is shredded to pieces. Dog boots are available in pet stores online or near your place. Click here to see the style, and designs available. How do those dog boots look like, they look like a sock with a Velcro strap. The Velcro strap is used to keep the sock in place.

You also can find dog boots with a synthetic leather sole what is an additional benefit of adding traction. The dog boots protect your dog's paws, and the dog booties help to keep your dog paws dry and prevent the exposure to salt, chemicals and deicers. One thing you have to watch out for is that when you put on the dog boot, the strap is not to tight and constricts the paw of your dog. I do not know many dogs who like to wear those dog booties. Of course the smaller dogs they might like it as they are pampered with dog clothing and other things so they might be familiar with it. I have seen bigger dogs with dog clothing and it all depends on the dog if it is comfortable with it. Every dog is different, and you know your dog best.

Why you should not bath your dog in winter too often.

In the cold winter time bath your dog as little as possible. A dog's body produces special oils to protect their coats and skin from drying out. When you bath your dog too often in the wintertime, you might remove essential oils and increase the chance of developing dry, flaky skin.

If you have to bath your dog often than use a recommended moisturizing shampoo. Click here for moisturizing dog shampoos. If you are unsure ask your Veterinarian for recommendations as your vet will know best. My Tip. When you brush your dog regularly, it will stimulate the blood circulation, and it improves the overall skin condition.

Did you know that salt and de-icers are toxic for your dog?

Most salts and de-icers used in wintertime are not only bad for our environment but no, they are also toxic to your dog. When I walk in the wintertime with my dogs, I try to keep them away from footpath, sidewalks and roads what has been treated with de-icers and salts. Use for your sidewalk and your yard if you have to remove the snow and the ice environment and pet-friendly de-icers Encourage your neighbours also to use environment-friendly and pet-friendly de- icer's and avoid salt. Whenever you walk with your dog on a street where they use de- icer's, and salt clean your dog's paws immediately after you return home with a spray bottle filled with water and a dry cloth to dry them off. Use a thin layer of dog paw balm and rub it into your dog's paws. This is also to prevent that your dog starts licking his paws before they are washed. My dogs chewing their paws when they are itchy. It is annoying for you when you wanna go to sleep. Most of the time they will do it during the night.

The particles of the chemicals and de- icer's can be stuck on your dog's paws and can cause him to vomit. Pay attention that your dog is not drinking out of puddles or let him eat slush. Some dogs also get a dry cracked dog nose in winter. I use the balm to put it on. But normally when a dog has a dry nose means he is not feeling well. Keep your dog hydrated to make sure you have plenty of fresh water around. I think it is common sense that when it is freezing cold outside, do not walk too long with your dog. Keep your walks with your dog short. In general, dogs can get frostbites and hypothermia just as us humans. You can spot the mild hypothermia when your dog starts to show weakness, shivering, and lack of mental alertness... Hypothermia in Dogs Hypothermia is a medical condition that is characterized by abnormally low body temperature. It has three phases: mild, moderate, and severe. ... Hypothermia occurs when an animal's body is no longer able to maintain a normal temperature, causing a depression of the central nervous system (CNS). If your dog shows signs of Hypothermia please be alert and bring your dog immediately to your vet or an emergency Center for pets.

Feed your dog in the cold winter time a bit more dog food. Why?

Dogs do tend to burn extra energy by trying to stay warm. Sometimes it can cause dehydration in your dog. Feed your dog a little bit more during the cold weather, and you have to make sure your dog has plenty of water to drink will keep your pet well dehydrated and the skin will become not so fast dry. Winter can be harsh, cold and long. However, you protect your dog's paws with the dog booties, or the paw balm will go a long way to keep your dog's paws healthy. If you worry that you overfeed your dog check out our free dog food calorie calculator. Remember to prepare your dog's paws first. Winter can be tough on our dog's feet, but proper grooming and protecting the paws by using a paw balm or booties will go a long way to keeping your dog's feet healthy. How do you treat your dog's paws during the cold winter month? Do you have a DIY balm? Share with us... Please share this with other pet owners and if you do not mind please like this post... Thank you.

Please feel free to download the Free Ebook " For the love of Dogs" All yours Melanie Read the full article

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theblueskyphoenix · 6 years ago

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Flipside: An Unusual Friend

William always looked forward to when his father came from book trades. It meant new material he could dive into and enjoy. Something to help pass the time whenever he had an asthma episode or something he could do while Jack was busy with schoolwork and couldn’t play with him.

I wonder if he got some magic trick books this time.

William was bouncing on the balls of his feet as his father came in through the front door, a huge amount of books in his arms and hand bag.

“Welcome home, Father!” William said, hugging his father’s leg. “Did you have a fun time at the trade?”

Milo smiled down at his son. He would’ve patted his head like he usually did if it weren’t for the amount books that were currently in his hands.

“Sure did. Got some rare ones this time, including some with Celtic legends.”

William’s eyes lit up at this.

“Something we can read together before bed?”

“I’ll have to double check the contents but I most certainly have some that qualify.”

“Yay!”

Milo chuckled before heading into his study, William following close behind. He set the books down by his desk, sighing in relief.

“Got a lot more than I was expecting.” He smiled. “Worth it though.”

He looked to his son, seeing his bright green eyes full of wonder.

“You can have one book while I get these all organized.” Milo ruffled his hair. “Till I do they will be off limits.”

“Okay!” William grinned, looking through the books.

He looked through at each one carefully. All seemed interesting. He wasn’t sure if he could just settle for one but he knew no matter of sad faces would change his father’s mind. His eyes were soon caught by one that didn’t have a title at all written anywhere on the spine or the cover.

The book was grey in color with black binding and on the front, was a big red “M” and… that was it. William picked it up, noting it looked a little on the older side.

“What’s this one, Father?” He asked, holding it up for Milo to see.

Milo looked at it, putting a hand to his chin.

“Oh yeah, funny story with that one. The person who gave it to me said they found it randomly in their shop one day. They weren’t really sure what to do it with it and wanted to get rid of it since it was taking up space so they gave it to me for free. Didn’t say what the contents were though.”

“Maybe I could look through it? If it’s anything bad I’ll just shut it right away.”

Milo hummed in thought before taking the book for a moment. He flipped through it quickly, seeing images of creatures that seemed other worldly.

Must be one of those fact books on fantasy creatures that are really gaining traction these days.

He closed it handing it back to William, seeing no harm.

“Let me know what you find.” Milo smiled.

“Okay!” William grinned before running off to his room.

He plopped down on his bed, holding his toy rabbit close to him.

“Okay, Judy. Let’s see what this book has.”

He made the toy nod its head before opening the book.

Inside… William wasn’t sure what to make of it. There was not a lick of English in the book. Some weird scrawl like markings of another language he had never seen before in his life. He kept flipping through, trying to see if there was any. He could see pictures of creatures but he had no idea what they were.

They look really creepy… Especially those completely blacked out ones. They look like they’re gonna jump out at any second.

He decided to flip to the beginning of the book, hoping for some kind of title page. What he found looked like a list of names under one big one that was in English.

“Maxwell…?” He said out loud. “Who’s Maxwell?”

Is that what the “M” on the book stands for?

“The traitor. That’s who he is.”

William jumped, looking up from his book, noticing the room had gone dark. His eyes widened in alarm at the creatures that were now hanging around the walls, looking at him with hungry glares. They looked exactly like the blacked out creatures in the book.

“T-Traitor?” William gulped, backing up as much as possible. “W-What do you mean?”

One of the creatures sneered.

“He dared to disobey commands. All because he was growing soft for… Bleck! A human and his family! We thought we got it all out of him the day we killed his brother but no…”

William was trembling.

“I-I don’t understand…”

This is gotta be a dream. Gotta be a dream. Or… a… a nightmare…

The creatures all grinned at him, laughing, amused at his fear.

“We don’t expect you to understand, child. We’re just here because we can be… and you also have that book… So… No apologies for what we’re about to do.”

They all lunged for William, the boy covering himself, letting out a shriek.

“FATHER!!”

A loud choruses of shrieks were heard before everything went silent. William was shaking, not wanting to look. He was expecting pain but it never came. He waited another moment before looking up, eyes widening in shock.

In front of him was a new creature. It was humanoid in appearance but it was no human, that was for sure. It was black all over, had claw like feet and hands and a tail. Its hair had a flow to it as well, like a flame. It was tall too, probably as tall as Milo if not taller. The only articles of clothing it seemed to have was a crown and a long flowing grey cloak.

William swallowed hard as the creature looked to him with its glowing white and grey eyes. He whimpered, backing away.

“D-Don’t hurt me…”

The creature frowned at this, kneeling to his level.

“I’m not going to hurt you.” it said, giving as gentle of a look as it could. “Would seem wrong to hurt you after saving you from those nightmare monsters.”

William gave a surprised look.

“You… You stopped them?”

“Yes. Wouldn’t be right for them to hurt an innocent child like yourself.” The creature reached a claw hand forward. “I promise, I’m not here to cause you any harm.”

William hestated before placing his hand in the creature’s.

“T-Thank you I guess… Who are you?”

The creature gave a small bow.

“Maxwell. The traitor those monsters mentioned.”

William’s eyes got wide.

“Are you the same Maxwell of this book?” He asked.

“I am.” He frowned. “I’m sorry they wanted to hurt you for finding the book. I really didn't mean for that to happen. Though… I have to thank you for opening it. I never thought I was going to get out of there.”

“You… were stuck in here?” William held up the book.

“Yes… Some traitor sealed me in there when they usurped me from the throne.” Maxwell hissed a bit. “He had an idea that he could make a better king than me.”

William’s eyes filled with wonder.

“You’re a king?”

“Was…” Maxwell sighed, sitting down. “Sadly, that title no longer belongs to me. It belongs to someone else.” He lowered his head. “Not sure if it’s the same person who overthrew me but… who ever they are I don’t envy them. Being king isn’t exactly really being king.”

“How do you mean?”

Maxwell looked at William carefully. He shook his head, patting William’s head.

“That is something I don’t think I could bear to tell someone as young as you. To be honest without giving details, you’re more of a slave rather than a ruler.”

“Oh…” William frowned. “That sounds awful.”

“It is…” Maxwell sighed. “Not sure what I’ll do now… Doubt I can go home. I won’t be welcomed there, as evidenced by the nightmare monsters and I’m sure my people would also not be happy to me either…”

“So you have nowhere to go?”

“Not really… and I am bound to the book. Can’t go too far from it. It’s a ball and chain for me…” Maxwell ran a hand through his flame like hair. “I guess… I'll just spend the rest of my days in it.”

William hummed in thought before speaking up.

“What if you didn’t have to?”

“Hm?”

William gave an innocent look.

“You seem really nice… Maybe… you could stay with us.”

Maxwell was taken aback by this.

“Pardon?”

“I mean, you don’t have to if you don’t want to but I think it would be fun to have another person around. My father, mother and brother are busy a lot and those nightmare creatures might come back. I think I’d feel better if you were here. So… if you want.”

Maxwell thought it over.

He has a point. The nightmare monsters are not known to give up after one attack… and…

He looked at William, warmth and nostalgia coming over him at the innocence he could see in the boy’s eyes.

He has the same kind of look in his eyes Lux always had…

Maxwell thought about it for another moment before extending a hand.

“I probably won’t make myself known to your other family members but… I wouldn’t mind acting as a guard for you against the nightmare monsters. And… I guess it wouldn’t hurt to have a new home… so… under your terms and my own, I shall remain here. Do we have a deal?”

William nodded, taking his hand, giving a shake.

“We sure do Mr. Maxwell! Oh! Before I forget, my name is William. William Carter!”

“William eh? Nice name.” Maxwell chuckled, making himself comfortable on the bed, his tail swishing in amusement. “So… what would you like to do first?”

William hummed in thought.

“Hm… You ever go digging for crystals?”

“Digging… for crystals?”

“Ahuh! It’s really fun! Oh! And we can swipe some of Mother’s snacks before we do. She made some really yummy cookies!”

“I… guess we could do that.”

“Yay! Come on then!” He picked up the book. “I mean, might wanna make yourself invisible or something but follow me!”

William hurried down the hall, Maxwell following after him, making himself invisible to others. He wasn’t really sure what to make of this new situation but… maybe it wouldn’t be all bad.

I don’t have to serve anyone anymore save this little boy but… he’s not going to torture me like They did… and… I can’t let Them get him either…

Maxwell smiled to himself, nodding.

I’ll do just that then… To make up for all I did.

oooooo

So I decided I wanted to throw my hat into the ring with writing snippets and well here we are. I don’t plan on doing an epic with Flipside but snippets sounded like a whole lot of fun as a means of telling some parts of this AU. So, to kick it off, the meeting of Maxwell and a very very young William Carter. Quite different from how they met in the canon eh?

Maxwell, protect this boy with your life. He is too pure and needs to be protected at all costs. Capiche?

See ya next time~

#don't starve #don't starve together #don't starve au #don't starve william carter #don't starve wiliam #don't starve maxwell carter #don't starve maxwell #magnus umbra #milo carter #don't starve milo carter #don't starve milo #flipside au #fanfic #fanfiction

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valeriemperez · 7 years ago

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Hi pretty lady I’m always confused on TF shooting schedule. So I know Kevin Smith is in VC to direct epi 17, but aren’t they still filming epi 16? I thought they only started filming epi 16 on Monday? Anyway you always know what’s up can you help a girl out? Thank you

Behind on asks again, but directors show up a week before their episode starts in order to prep. They have to help find locations, figure out what they want their shots to look like, etc. So they’re filming 4.16 right now, and Kevin is prepping 4.17 which will start next Thursday.

So are they still shooting episode 16 of the flash right now? I know Kevin Smith is in town for 17 but that doesn’t start until next week? Is that right, can you help confirm? Thank you

Correct. They are filming 4.16 until Wednesday, and then Kevin will begin directing 4.17 on Thursday.

I still don’t understand how people are calling TF the IW show. I love IW but does she really have her own storyline that isn’t connected to BA, in my opinion no. Right now her storyline is truly WA & being there for BA. Maybe I’m wrong, do you think that IW has had so much focus this season?

You know how studies show that once women make up 30% of a group, men think they’re outnumbered? It’s like that. As soon as Iris gets anything for herself, they think she’s taking over. She’s the leader of the team, which is a position just like any other team member, and she’s got her relationship with Barry. She hasn’t ‘taken over’ any episode except maybe 4.05, and Caitlin had more screentime than her in that one. These people just hate that she’s important.

@eboniangelvibez said

Um, ratings are slipping across the board on CW, but ⚡️ is still # 1 for all Berlanti-verse shows. The h8rs blaming lower ratings on IW, WA and CP isn’t new. The fanboys complaining isn’t either. However, Piedowitz, Berlanti+Helbing were privy to (b4 the rest of us) what GG+CP’s chemistry potential is. Anyone who is a true ⚡️ fan (like Berlanti, Helbing, Johns) recognize that IW is the center of BA’s universe. They’re not listening to the smack. WA is 🍞+butter, and will be until GG+CP are tired

For Berlanti-verse and for the network. And yeah, people have been blaming Candice for ratings since 1.15, literally. Everything else you’ve said is the absolute truth.

How can haters blame Iris and WA for the drop in ratings when 4x10 ended the way it did and Iris and WA were missing from all the promo material? Even if you were just a part of the general audience, you’d think there would be no WA with one half of it in prison right? I certainly wasn’t expecting anything from this episode. Despite the demo it’s also interesting that 4x10 was the most viewed episode since 4x03 (excluding the crossover).

Exactly, the ratings drop has more to do with how the trial turned out than it did with anything Iris did or didn’t do.

@rrow hit a 0.3 😱 I agree with that Anon in general ratings are down. I’ve read a few articles that said ABC, CBS, NBC etc etc are all down significantly compared to last year. It’s a trend that most don’t see stopping anytime soon. Fl@sh losing ratings seems bigger cause it was in top for so long. What people need to understand that the age where live ratings represent the only source of income for shows is gone. Especially for a network like CW.

Yes, everything is down. There’s no denying that Flash has lost a little more comparatively, but that’s not due to one character who has always been as important she she currently is. More likely, it’s the whiplash in tone and now the terrible handling of the trial (people don’t wanna see their hero in prison, thus they lost 400K viewers from 4.10 to 4.11).

The character Ralph is to blame for the ratings on Flash. Ever since he started, his brand of humor and sexist comments turned so many people off. That and the way Wally was treated have been factors in the ratings slipping. Next week’s episode looks worse with the shrinking and stuff. They need to get back to figuring out how to stop the Devoes.

That’s another possibility, and it’s partly to do with tone. His humor is both sexist and childish, which contributes to the feeling that Flash is more juvenile this season.

Yeaaaah black lighting dropping to a 0.6 is not great for it’s second night. To be fair this past Tuesday wasn’t great for any show on any network. I think this is just the new normal and it’s not really a reason to panic imo.

Shows always drop significantly after a series premiere, but I agree. Flash is still #1 and Black Lightning is currently tying for #2 with Supernatural.

TF’s ratings deteriorating faster than the other Arrowverse shows has me kinda worried tho. If this trend continues it may sink to SG/LOT demo #s by the end of the season. I honestly think some ppl aren’t really feelin this storyline. We’ve been getting some great WA angst lately, but the trial was a disappointment, Barry in prison is kinda meh, & I’m not diggin the focus on Ralph. They’re gonna drag out The Thinker plotline and it’ll end up losing traction just like last season with Savitar.

I get why you would worry, but right now it’s just a one-off. The ratings dropped to 0.7 in the fourth episode of the season and then bounced back up. Perhaps they will do so again this time.

Was keiynan really fired from the flash?

No. He and the producers found a spot for him on Legends because: 1) he wanted more time off due to his anxiety, 2) Flash was overcrowded with team members not getting their chances to shine, and 3) Legends was losing two original team members.

What is C@nadag bitching about exactly? CP still signs stuff for him from time to time. He says it on his Twitter page “Got autographs from CP”. He’s been awful for years and CP hasn’t given him the metaphorical finger yet. And even if she wasn’t signing for him anymore he’s convinced people don’t care about her and don’t buy her autographs so what does he want? He must be lying about something. Or he is just that pathetic. There are people who have met CP outside of sets/cons and say she’s nice

He both exaggerates and is pathetic. He talks shit about almost every actress in the Berlanti-verse, and he’s talked shit about others too (like Lauren from Lucifer).

#the flash #eboniangelvibez #anonymous #tatiana's thoughts #more asks under the cut #long post for ts

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surflove808 · 7 years ago

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Fan Wars: A New Hope. Damnit.

I sure do hope you like reading lots of words!!

Here's the remix (Edited. Longer. Angrier. Yay!): I’m about to get all fire and brimstone up in here. I apologize in advance.

Regarding my blog post re: The Joke Debacle, most everyone has been so thoughtful, mature, kind and open minded about the discussion matter, even if they didn’t necessarily agree with me. So that right there, shows me that it’s possible for all of us to be more understanding with each other regardless of our ships or faves or whatever. And I’m an open-minded, open book, so even if you don’t agree with me, this is a safe place to vent concerns or frustrations with what I say. We can all respectfully disagree, meet in the middle or go just back to our own corners. Whatever.

I'd like to encourage those of you who are taking your frustrations out on anyone who agrees with points made in my article (on Twitter or wherever) to come speak directly to me if you have an issue. I wrote it, after all. My blog is helpfully linked right there in the article. I don't bite. And for those of you who aren't overly familiar with what's going on, please check out the many, many comments attached to my actual blog post, and you will be able to see that there are far more people that are fed up with these bad apples, than there are bad apples. I hope. And if there are apples that don’t feel like they’re being given a fair shake, I’d like to hear from those apples too.

When I posted my angry rant last week, I didn’t expect it to gain so much traction. But it did…and it showed me I wasn’t alone, and that there are a lot of fed up fans out there, and justifiably so, who are looking for an end to this ridiculous inner-fandom civil war. I'm relatively new to Tumblr. I wasn't expecting to become the unofficial mouthpiece for this issue.

I was approached by movietvtechgeeks.com asking if they could use my blog post in an article about the cyberbullying that’s happening in this fandom, so I said “Sure!” I’m honored that someone would want to print my rambling. But of course, it’s also opened up the floor on Twitter, yet again, for certain people to deliberately misconstrue the content and twist it to suit their own agenda in the comment sections. What they fail to realize is…they’re only proving why we needed this article in the first place. So, joke’s on them!! However…. now I feel obligated to come on here and clarify my intent and that’s friggin irritating.

Here is the article if you want to take a looksee: https://twitter.com/movietvtechgeek/status/927578926397952000

I NEED TO MAKE A FEW THINGS CRYSTAL CLEAR (apparently):

1. I don’t have a ship. I don’t dislike shippers. (Ship away! I just dislike pushy people with no sense of boundaries) So please do not misconstrue anything I say as promoting or denigrating *a* ship. You do you. Let me do me. Well, that sounded vaguely dirty… you know what I mean. I’m just gonna ship me with myself now. Nobody can love me quite like me.

2. I don’t stan an actor, and I don’t think that because someone likes “another” actor (whomever that might be) more, that it’s a direct affront to me or them. I tag all these "relevant to the post” actors because I think they’re all relevant to the success of this show, and sadly….also to this juvenile ridiculousness that seems to be brewing between fan factions.

But, if I’m being honest? Full disclosure: I do have a favorite! Jensen. Heyyyoooo! I think he’s an incredibly talented actor IN MY OPINION, and I like his extraordinarily expressive face. See? Simple as that. Is that a problem? And do you feel better now that it’s out in the open?

We can all have opinions, and favorites without “throwing feces like howler monkeys” to quote a certain dickhead angel. And as far as personalities and talent go? They’re all amazing, and they all belong, IN MY OPINION. The main cast, the supporting cast, new castmates, former castmates…. they all just…gel. You know? It’s some kind of voodoo magic. And they’re by all accounts, really decent people doing good things out there in the world. Without any one of them, it wouldn’t be the show we all know and love. And if you don’t love the SHOW, well….I guess fucking go watch something else? Right??

Listen....Unless you’re tied to a chair Clockwork Orange-style, and being force fed this show by some evil, covert government agency… you DO have other choices.

3. I sucked it up and joined Twitter because there seems to be an attack dog, hive-mind situation happening that seems hell bent on cowing people into submission. That shit doesn’t fly with me. And if I’m on there and see bullying, damaging misinformation or harassment… I’m going to get in the fray. But I’m going to TRY to do it with honesty, integrity and a sense of humor. I want to sit at the adults table on Turkey Day. Not at the kids table with Weird Uncle Augustus. Know what I mean? Don’t be that guy.

AND ONCE MORE FOR THE PEOPLE IN THE BACK: To be clear - I’m not speaking to ONE specific group of people. However, if you look into the mirror I’m holding up and see your own reflection? I’m probably talking to you.

4. I’m not going to choose a “side”. I choose the show, it’s actors, crew, writers, etc, collectively. Because they all work their asses off, both on and off the set to give us fans so much more than just entertainment.

5. If someone wanted to hold a mirror up to this fandom right now, via a juicy documentary on the ship wars, fighting factions, undermining, conspiracy theories, revenge tactics, harassment campaigns, etc…. I think its safe to say, we’re all gonna be pretty fucking embarrassed. Let’s hope that never happens. I’m cringing just thinking about it. But we deserve it, if we keep on with this petty bullshit, ya know? 6. My blog post was not about for J2 "stans” or about Misha “stans”, for gods sake people. This post was about how splinter groups (for lack of a better term) were being damaging and disruptive (As they do.) and how it’s bad for EVERYONE when we let warring factions steamroll over everyone else, AND each other. This post was a direct response to the organized and brutally efficient Twitter campaign that somehow found its way into the laps of a handful of online news sites in an effort to publicize an off-color joke in order to take advantage of the current climate in the entertainment industry and start a viral witch hunt. *I just ran out of breath. Time for a James Brown pause*

7. My post was also aimed at the Twitter spamming campaigns that Shatner and Pellegrino, as well as J2 had to put up with in the past few weeks. And don't feed us that horsehit about them bullying the poor fans that spoke their minds. NO. You collectively went on, and started shit, kept coming at them, and they defended themselves. And rather maturely, considering. It’s about groups of people that have gotten so wrapped up and out of control, that they’re poisoning this fan family. I genuinely feel concerned that some folks are confusing reality with fiction, here.

8. If you look back farther on my Tumblr page (?) to the good ol days of last Thursday (?) - particularly the Silent Majority post - that post is not in reference to any fan or any actor, specifically. It’s in reference to the majority of fans who want to do the right thing, WANT to help out, WANT to just enjoy the damn show without all this drama and hate. But because they’re quiet, and they’re not able to speak their minds without fear of retribution…. they’re vastly under-represented. And so, the assholes of the fandom run amok unchallenged. THAT’S the majority I’m speaking of. 9. I abhor anyone that lurks around on social media looking for people to mess with. So, imagine my surprise and disappointment that now I’M that person, because of this fucking shit!! I’m only getting after people who are picking on others, but still… lurking, arguing. Utter waste of valuable time. Yours and mine.

Saturday night I apparently pissed off the leader of one of the SPN gangs (what do you call them??) when I called her out on her behavior and was ominously told: “Wanna see what happens when I tell my followers what to think and do”. To which I responded “I already have. And it’s deplorable” And then offered to provide her with my name, # and home address. She didn’t want it. I don’t know why. I thought it was funny! I NEVER get hate mail... and I was looking forward to some postcards. I’m old school that way. Don’t hate tweet me. Send me a hate postcard featuring something cool from your state.

Jokes aside....that’s the kind of crap that mobilized me in the first place.

I tried to have a reasonable conversation with this individual and even asked if she wanted to take it offline and talk. I followed her lead, conversationally, did snark back when required...but just when I thought we were going to have a reasonable discussion, she pulled the rug out. I tried. If you’re reading this and you feel misrepresented, or misunderstood, or you’re trying to misrepresent our conversation - the door is still open if you want to talk. But I’m not going to tolerate your bullshit, and neither should anyone else.

Who ARE these people? And why is this happening? That’s my question.

10. I'm not here to listen to arguments that a 6-year old might find compelling in a court of law, such as: Well, Jensen told that joke a year ago, or Misha said thisthatandtheotherthing back in the day...so why are you only talking about Jareds joke?

Well...because this is not a tit-for-tat thing. I'm talking about the issue that is relevant RIGHT NOW. And this is far from a "blame it on Jared" thing. I feel awful for the guy. For both of them for even being looped into this insanity. The intent of my blog post was to address very current events that have been demonstrative of the current, toxic climate brewing in the SPN fandom. I’m NOT here to write the Unabridged History of SPN Actors and Their Fondness for Off-Color Jokes.

11. If you're all wound up and offended by what I wrote? It's probably because I wrote this blog post not for you, but about you. OR, you've not been provided with context, content or clarity, and you got swept up in this manufactured hysteria and reacted. OR, you think I’m a total asshole, and that’s ok. I get it! And I understand how my post could make some of you defensive and prickly. But hey, as the saying goes... don't start none, won't BE none. On the flip side, as someone eloquently stated (ahem, CarolHansson) "It's ok to be offended....it's also ok to not be offended"

12. I am not a rape apologist. And neither are the actors. And to even insinuate that any of us, by extension of supporting Jared or Jensen in this situation, are pro "rape culture", is appropriating a term and using it so irresponsibly that you're negating the real suffering of sexual abuse survivors. The more you trivialize it, the more you take away its power. Stop using manufactured concern for survivors as your jumping-off point for harassment, and START asking yourself what's really motivating you to use that argument as an excuse for your behavior. BTW, #Metoo, and you sure as hell don't represent ME.

If you want to see a record of this casts achievements for mental health awareness, LGBTQ rights, anti-bullying and womens issues, to name a few - it's a simple Google search away. That's on your time. Not mine. Again....not here to write their autobiography. This piece is an opinion piece. I try to be balanced, but that’s as far as it goes. I'm not CNN.

13. MISHA: Misha was not mentioned in my post because Misha was not under fire last week or the week before over this stupid bullshit. If I SEE that happening, I’ll write about THAT. But HE was not the focus of this mess. So I left HIM out of it. Does that make sense? And also? I'm not here to equally represent all actors at all times. That's not how this works in the context of the subject matter at hand. If you want to see more adequate representation for your favorite actor - write your own op ed. Easy peasy, lemon squeezy.

And Misha as well as J2, are probably more than a little appalled that some of their biggest fans (?) are committing to some shady behavior in their honor and in their names. Just a guess. They’re good guys and this is probably not sanctioned behavior. If you think it is? Show me the receipts. Let’s do this honestly, using facts. Not conjecture.

14. No, I do not excuse anyone's behavior because of their physical attractiveness. Neither do most people. I am not a child (Thank you, Uma Thurman), and I don't rationalize like a child.

15. No, I am not doing this to seek approval from the actors, and neither is anyone else with the #istandwithJ2 hashtag. As previously stated, this is an equal and opposite reaction to the bullshit that brought us all here today. You’re grasping at straws at this point, if that’s the argument you’re going with. Speaking on my own behalf, I have nothing to gain here, except some new Tumblr friends with a side of troll.

16. To reiterate on previous posts - I’m hoping that all of us will collectively start sticking up for each other when we see someone harassing a fellow fan online. Even if you don’t want to comment….maybe give the person being flamed those little heart thingys (likes?). Direct message them if liking their post doesn’t feel safe. Show them your support in some way, so that they don’t feel alone and so that they don’t feel quite so vulnerable to attacks from online bullies. We Have Got To Start Backing Up People who are just trying to express their opinions respectfully and are being slammed with responses that are belligerent, demeaning, threatening, obnoxious, etc. Otherwise - these jerks will just keep steamrolling right over the more gentle viewers out there. And a lot of them, are just kids. And this goes both ways. It has to, in order to be effective.

If you see something - say something. That’s my 2 cents anyway.

The world’s going to Hell in a handbasket, 26 innocent people were gunned down yesterday in a place they held sacred and felt safe in, and it just keeps happening.

Mother Nature has decided she’s sick of our shit and has been upending thousands of lives. There are actual sexual predators in some of our pasts and sadly, in some of our futures. And this “joke” has no relevancy or bearing on that sad fact.

Women, people of color, LGBTQ people, economically fragile people, physically fragile people, etc...are seeing their protections, rights and livelihoods eroded away in an alarmingly short period of time, and the list goes on and on… and THIS is what we’re dedicating our mental and emotional resources to?

This show is supposed to be an escape from reality, guys. Not actual reality.

Why are we harassing the actors and fellow fans of a television show that brought us all together in the first place? This is entertainment, people. I know how important this show is to all of us. And I know how impactful the message of this show has been. And I know that without this show, some of us might not be here today. We are some passionate sumbitches. I GET THAT.

The question still remains.... what in the actual fuck are we really fighting for and about, here? If someone can quantify and explain that to me in a way that makes sense, I’m all ears.

Has it really come to: “Maybe we need to devise a more sophisticated tagging situation so that people don’t keep dipping their chocolate in other peoples peanut butter.” I don’t know. But this is Nth level ridiculousness, and we need to figure it out before it gets even worse.

For now, I’m going to get back to enjoying this show for what it is, and putting my beautiful brain back to work on more important matters. I’ve spent a week in this muck, and it’s been... enlightening. I’ll say that.

And even though I don’t agree with some of you - I can see by the CSI-level attention to detail that a lot of us have applied to all things SPN... that we could actually be mobilized into an almost unstoppable force for real good and real change. If we wanted that.

We could probably figure out who ordered JFK’s assassination. Figure out where Jimmy Hoffa’s buried. Solve the mysteries of the pyramids.... help reunite missing kids with their families...Get Trump impeached... ahem. You get it.

Or we could just keep wasting our pent-up aggression on other fans, and the actors of our favorite show. Because that’s easy. Choices.

But wait! There’s more! Because I keep getting valid messages and concerns, this ridiculously long piece just got longer.

Posting these blogs has opened the door to a lot of private communication from both sides of the fence in the fandom, and I'm going to include some of my recent responses to an SPN fan who felt that her group of fans were not getting a fair shake and felt my blog targeted them. We had a long discussion and she was very cool and had a lot of valid concerns and examples of other bad fan behavior dating wayyyy back, so I wanted to add this in.

I'm just going to paraphrase my own replies and print them here, so that people who may feel misrepresented or angry can see that, there are other ways to discuss these issues and for everyone to see that there's a better way than Twitter Wars.

(Paraphrased conversation subject matter in italics)

What's amazing is that J2 fans AND Misha fans have private messaged me with the exact same concerns. And you have one very important thing in common: You ALL feel victimized. And you have been. Know why? It's because you've been victimizing each other.

(Slaps own face. HARD.) Not because of her. But because of this whole enchilada.

If both groups are concerned about the same issues and both want the harassment to stop, whyyyy are you still at each others throats?

Well, I think it's because good people are capable of behaving very badly, especially online. And all they’re doing is making themselves look ridiculous. And they do not merit support.

A lot of people have been using me as a mediator, or prism, so to speak, with regards to this issue. But you don't need me, when you all essentially want the same damn thing.

It's time to stop participating. All you have to do is take a step back and say to yourself (or others if you’re feeling up to it) I'm not going to support harassment, hate or damaging misinformation. And you can do that by unfollowing abusive accounts, by not "liking" or reblogging abusive content...and/or by not contributing to it yourself. And if enough of us did that, BOOM, on our way to a solved problem.

These are only a few suggestions. There's no cure or quick fix for this.

Only alternatives to current behaviors.

And I know there's a lot of bad blood between these groups as evidenced by the mountains of grievances I've been getting. Can’t un-say or undo any of it. But we can stop doing it going forward, can’t we?

As long as people want to keep concentrating on past transgressions and dwelling on past arguments, no one can move on.

And continuing to keep score with hopes to "win" something on here isn’t working either. I’ve got bad news: There's no "winning" here. No grand prize. Just more of the same bullshit. And if you’re happy to sit in this pile of crap and continue to marinate? That’s your prerogative. By “your” I mean WHOMEVER fits the bill.

It's not my responsibility to make you play nice with each other. Or mediate your arguments. Though, it sounds like mediation is exactly what ya'll might need. I'm just here, publicly stating how this all looks to me: Like a never-ending playground slapfight.

I think that there will always be "haters". That's the nature of fandom, and life in general. But if we stop promoting that kind of behavior with our support, and if these individuals have to lurk in the back channels, as opposed to being allowed to thrive and build fiefdoms all over social media. That sounds like a good compromise to me.

And if you have a lot to express on this matter from your own perspective, there are better alternatives to spamming people on Twitter. For example...

Write a blog! If you’d like to provide an objective viewpoint, and also defend your stance but you’re afraid people will see that you support actor A, B, or C and automatically discount what you have to say? Start a side blog. Compile a list of wrongs that you’ve seen committed by both sides and be the mirror, and show people what they’ve become.

Create your own, blank slate and start fresh.

There, now I can drop the mic.

#Jensen Ackles #Jared Padalecki #Misha Collins #spnfandom #spn family #dean winchester #Sam Winchester #castiel #mark pellegrino #lucifer

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sideofmaduros · 7 years ago

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Oly Shoes

I wanna talk about shoes, and I feel like a lot of people don’t know the info I wanna share about these. Weightlifting shoes (aka oly shoes) are something I never really thought about until recently. I mean, weight training and all doesn’t need any special shoes, right? Well, I was wrong. Oly shoes are supposed to help you feel more stable, especially when doing exercises that require large movements from the legs. Your feet are your connection to the ground, and thus as the base of your workout, they must feel stable. Having this stable base can also increase the weights you use. Not dramatically, but it was enough for me to notice a difference. If you’re currently lifting in a running shoe, that actually isn’t ideal. Running shoes are made to minimize impact when jogging, sprinting, walking, etc. They’re made to provide comfort while you’re moving to ease the impact of the exercise on your joints and feet. But, as most sports tend to, weightlifting also has shoes that are ideal for it. Preferably, these will be shoes that aren’t too soft, not as raised from the ground (running shoes have quite the bit of foamy stuff between you and the ground), and have a flat sole (some running shoes are curved slightly to help you move). Some of the weightlifting shoes even have a raised heel for increased ankle mobility, which helps if you have bad ankles or often strain your knees.

So, I didn’t go ahead and buy a pair of oly shoes. Those things are so expensive! Hundreds of dollars, sometimes! It’s honestly surprising what some shoes will go for. But I did find some good, cheaper alternatives that have actually made a huge different in my workouts, especially my squats, deadlifts, and most standing workouts.

I went ahead and bought some Asics Matflex 5 wrestling shoes. You can find them on amazon for about $40-$50. They have definitely helped me out.These shoes are lightweight, flexible, provide a lot of stability (as a wrestling shoe, they’re made to provide traction, so that helps a ton), and give a bit of ankle support by being a high-top shoe. I have noticed my squats and deadlifts feel really solid with these. I used to tend to lean forward a bit in my running shoes (because of the raised heel and curve to the sole of the shoe, I bet) when doing deads and squats, and that would ruin my balance and sometimes interrupt my ability to do a full rep, which could put me in a potentially dangerous position that could cause me to hurt myself -- but that doesn’t happen anymore when I wear the Asics Matflex shoes. So far, they’ve helped me get the most out of large movement exercises!

Wrestling shoes, Converse low and high top All-stars, and classic Vans (especially for wide feet, because Converse tend to be narrow) are the best cheap bets for shoes for lifting. Sure, not all of these shoes are always cheap, but compared to most oly shoes, they’re definitely cheaper. Tennis shoes (I don’t mean this as synonymous to running shoes -- I mean actual shoes for tennis) and volleyball shoes can also help with stable footing, and if your foot has a tendency to start riding over the outer side of the shoe from doing heavier weights on squats and deads, the higher sole on these will help keep your feet from slipping, which will definitely help you out during and after your workouts. Tennis shoes and volleyball shoes are made with good traction, too, so I figure they’ll provide a pretty solid base. I still think the closer to the ground you can get, though, the better.

Some advice if you go the wrestling shoe route: buy half a size up from your normal sneaker size! They run tight, and for good reason, but you don’t need super tight-fitting wrestling shoes for lifting. The only reason wrestlers would want them to fit snug is because they want to make sure they have as much traction as possible and that their feet won’t get injured.

If you actually do wanna spend the extra money on oly shoes because you’re that serious, I hear the good ones are Adidas AdiPowers, Adistars, and Nike Romaleos. There are also some really pricey Asics oly shoes that are made in Japan and have a wood heel to them, too. These are all anywhere from $75-$400, maybe even more. So have fun trying to score deals online, and may luck always be in your favor for finding your appropriate size right off the bat.

If you have any questions about shoes like these, feel free to send me some asks. I’ll answer to the best of my knowledge or even give you an article or video to look at that can answer you better than I can. If you think the shoe thing is kind of BS, well, there’s nothing actually wrong with wearing your runners to lift. But I have noticed a difference in the stability and power in my workouts. Even just a little. But every bit helps, especially the heavier you start to go. You don’t want the chance of a slight instability proving to be actually dangerous for you. I think it’s worth it to switch shoes for lifting and use your running shoes specifically for what they’re for -- running. I’m sure the shoes will last longer that way, too. The decision is yours, though, I just hope some of you find this info helpful.

#fitness #weightlifting #weighttraining #shoes #oly shoes #wrestling shoes #lifting shoes #men's fitness #ftm fitness #trans fitness #fitness tip #fitness tips #shoe tip #health #wellness

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mbtizone · 7 years ago

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Jacqueline Carlyle (The Bold Type): ENFJ

Dominant Extroverted Feeling [Fe]: It’s easy for Jacqueline to relate to the people around her, and she often goes out of her way to emotionally support her employees. Jacqueline actually cares about her readers. It’s not about the money or the title – Jacqueline wants to reach her audience. She wants them to connect with her writers and feel something. Jacqueline can sense potential in people and is very good at tapping into it. She’s empathetic, and can usually tell how the people around her are feeling quickly and easily. She always knows when Jane is feeling uncertain about tackling a story she’s been assigned. When Kat is arrested, Jacqueline goes to bail her out. She is always interested in how certain events make people feel. She genuinely cares about how they’re doing and tries to get people to open up. Jacqueline asks Jane to rewrite an article when all she can see are “facts and figures.” She wants to hear Jane’s voice, she doesn’t want to see charts and graphs. It’s impersonal. She cares about Jane’s perspective and wants her to be willing to expose herself. She cares about what’s in Jane’s heart, not her head. Jacqueline wants her readers to trust Scarlet and cares about the magazine’s relationship with women. She wants them to see that the writers at the magazine are real women who are dealing with the same problems they are, which is why she doesn’t like to let her writers publish their stories anonymously, though she compromises about this for Jane if she’s willing to turn in an honest, revealing rewrite. Jacqueline is very good at seeing things from other people’s perspectives. When Kat is upset that Adena ran off, leaving her to get arrested, Jacqueline pointed out that she was probably afraid that an arrest would hurt her chances of being able to stay in the country, so she understandably fled to avoid deportation. While Kat tries to dismiss the issue by explaining that she and Adena were in the right, Jacqueline points out that being in the right doesn’t always matter in the end. She’s willing to make compromises to keep the peace and understands that it’s sometimes necessary to make allowances in the grand scheme of things.

Auxiliary Introverted Intuition [Ni]: For Jacqueline, it’s very important to stay ahead of the game. When she realizes that her readers are interested in politics, she wants to accommodate them and wants the magazine to branch out to satisfy her audience. Jacqueline always has a clear vision of what she wants from her staff. Once she gets an idea, she sees it through until it becomes a reality and expects the same of her writers. Jacqueline doesn’t want to preserve Scarlet as it is. She’s open-minded and has great instincts, which she often uses to make decisions about the future of the magazine. Jacqueline’s intuition, combined with her ability to tune into the emotions of the people around her, allows her to come to accurate judgments about people. She believes that Jane “wrote the story before actually getting the story.” She believes that Jane didn’t go in with an open mind and allowed her previous feelings cloud her judgment regarding the issue. When Jane becomes upset, Jacqueline knows that someone in Jane’s family must’ve had breast cancer, and accurately guesses that it was her mother without any prior information. Jacqueline is very good at understanding people’s motivations and intentions. She can tell that Kat is fighting the Board because of her need to win, not because of her desire to spread awareness for women’s health.

Tertiary Extroverted Sensing [Se]: One of the reasons that Jacqueline is such a success is because she’s able to adapt as things change in her external world. Jacqueline wants to push people out of their comfort zone (particularly Jane), and get them to try new things and have new experiences. She’s very fashionable and always impeccably dressed. Jacqueline is good at seizing opportunities as they arise in her environment and has a knack for knowing what will make a good story. She’s interested in sensory hobbies, such as cooking and taking cello lessons (though she claims to still be awful at it after eight years of lessons). Jacqueline is bold and believes that her willingness to take risks that makes Scarlet the success that it is.

Inferior Introverted Thinking [Ti]: “I can’t say I’ve ever felt powerless. More like curious.” Jacqueline genuinely wants to understand her world. She’s interested in the hows and whys – not just the facts. When there’s a problem, Jacqueline wants to know what she can do to help and how she can solve the issue. Jacqueline enjoys debates and seeing multiple sides of an issue. Although Jacqueline is interested in comprehending things, she mostly wants to understand, “What is that like for you?” Jacqueline is very good at analyzing situations and seeing potential problems. After Jane admonishes a doctor in their meeting for giving a preventative double mastectomy to a woman in her twenties, calling it “irresponsible,” Jacqueline assigns Jane to the story because she likes that Jane has a strong opinion on the issue. She wants to get to the heart of it, gain as a much information as she can, and come to an “appropriate” conclusion (Fe-Ti). Jacqueline believes that she can solve any problem that presents itself.

Enneagram: 3w2 1w2 6w5 Sx/So

Quotes:

Alex: Go with your gut. What does Jane Sloan care about? Jane: Uh, Jane Sloan cares about not looking like an idiot in front of Jacqueline again. Jacqueline: Interesting. It just clicked for me what is going wrong with your ideas. You’re pitching what you think I want to hear. Jane: Well- Jacqueline: You’re a new voice. I want to hear it. You and me. My office. First thing tomorrow morning.

Jacqueline: I can’t say I’ve ever felt powerless. More like curious.

Jacqueline: Jane? Do you need something? Jane: I was just wondering if you have a minute. Jacqueline: I do if it’s important. Jane: I just wanted to talk about my assignment. I feel like I gave you the wrong impression of who I am as a writer… Where I belong here. I think that I can handle bigger subject matter and I want to prove it so I have some ideas that I want to throw at you- Jacqueline: No. I liked your pitch. It’s the story I want you to write.

[Jane angrily throws her bag and groans] Jacqueline: Hello, Jane. Jane: Jacqueline. I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize you were in here. I’ll get out of your way. Jacqueline: No, I just wasn’t feeling these shoes sent over for the gala. But it seems like you need this closet a lot more than I do. Jane: No. No, no. Don’t wear shoes you don’t like because of me. Just forget I was here. Jacqueline: Jane, what is going on with you? Jane: Uh, nothing. Jacqueline: I felt very confident giving you this promotion. But your energy this week has been off. Maybe you’re not quite ready. Jane: No, I am. I’m ready. And I’m so grateful for this opportunity. Jacqueline: Good. I’m glad to hear that. So, when am I gonna get some material from you? Jane: Soon. It’s all there. Well, I found Eric. I’m just having trouble finishing it. Jacqueline: How can we fix that then? Jane: Well I guess I need to talk to him. Jacqueline: Well, that sounds like a pretty good guess to me. Why haven’t you done that? Jane: Because it hurts too much.

Jacqueline: Alright, Sage. We’ve got your assignment. Porn: Love it or Hate It. It’s clearly something we need to be talking about. Let’s make a feature piece out of it. Which means we need somebody to cover your sex column this month. Jane. Jane: Oh, uh. Actually, I had a political piece I wanted to pitch that I’m really excited about. Jacqueline: Well, that can wait. We need a sex column. Jane: Yeah, but I’m not exactly- Jacqueline: I know you’re not exactly. That’s why I want you doing it.

Jane: You wanted to see me, Jacqueline? Jacqueline: Yes. You looked terrified this morning. Jane: No. Jacqueline: You look terrified now. Does writing the sex column make you uncomfortable?

Jane: I know you don’t normally let writers publish anonymously, but I was hoping you could make an exception just this once. Jacqueline: Do you know why I don’t like to publish pieces without real names? Jane: You want our readers to feel like they can trust us. Jacqueline: Exactly. I want them to know that we are real women going through the same things they’re going through.

Jacqueline: So I read your article. I’m just gonna cut to the chase. I need you to take another pass. Jane: Do you have any specific notes? Jacqueline: Uh, yeah. You’re holding back. All I see are facts and figures and… where are you? Jane: I’m at an art gallery. Do you need me to come back? Jacqueline: No, I mean where are you in this piece? Jane: I don’t know. Jacqueline: I don’t want percentages. I want your point of view. Jane: Those percentages aren’t boring to me. I mean, ten percent of women say they’ve never had an orgasm before and researchers say that number’s probably higher, but no one will admit it and, you know, knowing that I’m not the only one it’s… comforting. Jacqueline: Jane? Jane: Look, it’s amazing that women are owning their sexualities in this way that they’ve never been able to before, but for someone like me it’s a lot of pressure to live up to, and even this magazine makes me feel bad about it sometimes. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. Jacqueline: I’m gonna do something. I am gonna let you write this article anonymously, but in return, I want the real story. From your heart, not from your head. I wanna know what this is really like for you.

Richard: What do you need? Jacqueline: You. To go to the board. I want to launch a new vertical: politics. Both sides of the aisle, daily updates. Richard: Well, that’s a lot more than we usually do. Jacqueline: It is, but I took a look at the numbers, and our political pieces are gaining a lot of traction. Richard: Is this you being ahead of the curve again? Jacqueline: No. I’m behind it for once. Young women want to be politically engaged, so let’s engage them. Richard: Alright. I’ll float it to the board.

Richard: Scarlet is the biggest magazine we have. They’re worried about rocking the boat. Jacqueline: Maybe they should think we’re the biggest magazine they have because we rock the boat. Richard: I get it, but alleniating even a portion of the core readership right now is a big risk. Jacqueline: And it’s a risk worth taking. I also think that they should trust me.

Jacqueline: You okay? You need anything? Kat: I’m fine. Really. I just… a little embarrassed that my boss had to bail me out of jail. But… fine. Uh, thank you for coming. Jacqueline: You’re welcome. Kat: He just… he hated her… so much for no reason. And… I don’t know what happened. I just reacted.

Jacqueline: How’s Adena? Kat: She’s good. Yeah, she’s fine. Jacqueline: Hmm. Doesn’t sound fine. Kat: You know, I just can’t believe she left me there. She said she didn’t have a choice, but everyone has a choice. Jacqueline:Maybe she felt like she didn’t. You said that she wanted to extend her visa. Getting arrested could’ve complicated that. Kat: We were in the right. Jacqueline: I wish that’s all that mattered. But unfortunately being right is not always enough. Kat: Do you think, um… do you think she could’ve been deported? Jacqueline: Well, I think that’s a real possibility. Kat: Uh, thank you again. Jacqueline: You’re welcome.

Jacqueline: Richard, I want to discuss the political vertical. Richard: I’m sorry, Jacqueline, it’s not a battle you can win. Jacqueline: It’s not a battle I’m gonna fight. I was recently reminded of exactly who our readers are. They are passionate, they’re excited, they’re involved. And they don’t ask for permission. So neither am I. Richard: Jacqueline- Jacqueline: Tell the boys upstairs that Scarlet magazine is gonna launch a political vertical. The first piece is gonna be a personal account by Kat Edison. They’re gonna love it.

Jacqueline: Kat. Kat. What just happened in there? Kat: I don’t know. Jacqueline: What do you mean you don’t know? You said that you were ready. [Kat hands over her phone, which shows a topless photo of Kat posted on social media] Jacqueline: Oh. Okay. Kat: I saw it… right before I walked in. I-I don’t know. I didn’t know what to do. But you know that’s not me. I shouldn’t have walked out, okay, I know that. It was stupid. But I can go back in now and I can do this- Jacqueline: No, no. No. I’m gonna reschedule it for tomorrow. Kat: Honestly, I’m good. I can do this. Jacqueline: Kat, you need to trust me. You need to catch your breath, take an hour, fall apart, come back, and then we’re gonna figure this out. We’ll figure it out.

Jacqueline: So, yesterday you posted a photo on Scarlet’s Instagram account that was removed by their compliants. Can I see it? Kat: Uh, sure. It was the topless protest in Central Park. I thought it fit well with our breast health awareness issue. Jacqueline: Well, unfortunately Instagram has rules against posting photos that include women’s nipples. As our Social Media Director, I’m surprised that you didn’t know that. Kat: Oh, I did. That policy is sexist. Men can post photos of their nipples, but women can’t, even though it’s legal for women to be topless. Jacqueline: You’re making the postings removal from Instagram the story. Kat: Already picked up on Jezebel. Jacqueline: It’s an aggressive strategy, which I like. But for the time being, I want you to stop. Kat: What? Jacqueline: And so does our Board of Directors. They contacted me about this. Kat: Really? Jacqueline: I know that it’s frustrating, Kat. But our Instagram account is important. It has an enormous reach and we can’t afford to have it taken down. So no more nipple postings until you hear it from me. Kat: Yeah, okay. Jacqueline: Thank you.

Jane: That’s way too young. Jacqueline: Why do you think that? Alex: Well, actually, a lot of people do. She’s taken a lot of flack for giving a preventative double masectomy to a woman in her twenties. Jane: In her twenties? That’s so irresponsible. Jacqueline: Is it? I think we need to find out. Jane, go see her. Jane, go see her. Jane: Yeah, but… w-what about Alex? Jacqueline: What about Alex? You’re a woman in your twenties. You have a better handle on it. Jane: Yeah, but it’s his story. Jacqueline: Alex doesn’t have a problem with this, right? I like it that you have an opinion. Go in, ask her the tough questions.

Jacqueline: Jane. How’d it go with that doctor? Jane: It was fine. Jacqueline: A little more specificity would be fabulous. Jane: I will type up my notes for you. Jacqueline: Jane. Come here. What’s going on? Jane: Her advice is irresponsible. And I don’t think this is something women in their twenties need to be obsessing about. Jacqueline: Well that was the attitude you walked into the interview with. Sounds like maybe you wrote the story before you got the story. Jane: I didn’t do that. I asked hard questions. Jacqueline: Well let’s go over your notes together. And this is a delicate subject, and I wanna make sure if we draw a conclusion, it’s the appropriate one. Jane: I asked her hard questions. I don’t agree with the answers. Jacqueline: Jane, that’s not the way this works. You’re not the doctor, she is, and if she thinks that young women need to take this seriously- Jane: She thinks I should have the test. I’m 25. It’s ridiculous. Jacqueline: Well, why does she think that? Jane: It doesn’t matter. I’m not doing it. Jacqueline: Jane. Who in your family had it? Was it your mom? Jane: Yeah. Jacqueline: I understand why this is tough. Jane: No. You don’t. Jacqueline: Then explain it to me. Jane: Oh my god. This is the story you want me to write, isn’t it? Jacqueline: Let’s discuss this in my office. Jane: Why? So you can tell me what an incredible journey this will be for me as a writer? I could write all about how my mom was dying of breast cancer while I was in kindergarten. How the only thing I really remember about her is her hospital and her mechanical bed. And how the smells in there still scare the crap out of me. I could relive all of that for you! For Scarlet magazine. Jacqueline: Jane, you should take a walk. Jane: Why? No, it’s not fair! I mean, we do all this for you. And what do we even know about you? Anything? Your secrets? No, of course not, ’cause that’s not how this works! We’re just here to dance when you clap your hands and be your little writer monkeys here to humiliate ourselves, to torture ourselves for you! Jacqueline: Take a walk. Jane: Look, I’m sorry- Jacqueline: Right now.

Jacqueline: Do you know what treatments your mom tried? What drugs? Jane: I never wanted to know. Jacqueline: I’m surprised. You’re ordinarily someone who overarms herself with information. Not this time, huh? You know, fear causes bad behavior. Like today in the bullpen. That can never happen again. Jane: I know. I’m sorry. Jacqueline: Don’t say sorry. Jane, you just need to get control of this fear that’s spinning you out. You know why I originally assigned you to this article? Because I thought there was validity in your argument. I don’t think every woman in their twenties should get this test. But you’re not every woman, Jane. You need control. You thrive on information. I think you should strongly consider getting the test. Jane: Okay. Jacqueline: What? Jane: I really appreciate all of this, and I know people are trying… I just don’t think they understand. I don’t need the balloons and the ribbons and the marches and… the awareness. And I definitely don’t need Kat tweeting #Prevention every five minutes. It just… makes it worse. Jacqueline: So what do you need? Jane: I just… I need everyone to know how scary this is.

Richard: In the past 24 hours, the Scarlet Instagram account has had four more photographs flagged and taken down. Jacqueline: The board’s very concerned. Kat: They shouldn’t be. That shouldn’t have happened. One of the photographs was of a woman’s nipple on a statue. I used a few filters to make it look real. Please tell me the board does not have a problem with classic renaissance art. The others were of dude’s nipples. You know, humans with penises. And I know the board definitely doesn’t have a problem with that. Our very own intern, Brendan was one of them. His big debut. He has a really nice nipple. Richard: It’s all very clever, Kat. But one more and they’ll shut down the account. Kat: They can’t do that. Richard: They have crowdsource compliance. Yes, they can. Kat: Look, I’m making a point, okay? And the story’s already been picked up by Jezebel, Huffpo, Buzzfeed. Richard: How many clicks? Unique views. Kat: 31,000 Richard: We have 2.1 million Instagram followers. It would be a terrible trade to lose that account over 31,000 clicks. I’m sorry, but the board is insisting we play by the rules on this one. Jacqueline: We understand. Thank you, Richard. Kat: Okay, I have a better idea. We are going to post pictures of cancer survivors, post-surgery Jacqueline: Kat. Kat: Literally no nipples. They can’t take that down. Jacqueline: Kat. Stop. I don’t think this is about women’s health for you anymore. I think this is about you winning against the board. Kat: Maybe a little. But- Jacqueline: No buts. Richard was right about Instagram. We reach a lot of women with that account and we can’t have it taken down. Kat: I’m trying to raise awareness. Jacqueline: Then raise it. But remember there are a lot of young women out there at risk for breast cancer who are wrestling with what is a horrible decision. And I don’t think they need us up in their face telling them what to do. They need our support and our understanding. And you know one of them.

Jacqueline Carlyle (The Bold Type): ENFJ was originally published on MBTI Zone

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in-the-bookish-dark · 4 years ago

Text

Absolution Like the Rain - RL

There is nothing about that day I don’t remember, even decades later, except for who the Cubs were up against. It was raining. It was just past five o’clock. The Cubs were playing someone I can't recall on WGN. If I thought harder about it, maybe I’d remember. Probably not, so I’ll just lie and say it was the Giants, and then move on. That’s what it was then, Cubs and Giants in a memorable match-up, one for the ages, in fact. Whoever the hell it was, I’d watch the game for a few minutes then watch the rain for a few minutes. Trucks would go by and splash muddy water right up onto the pub’s front window and I’d watch it run down again. It was going to end up a good day, I felt sure. We needed the rain. I’ve known very few farmers, but we all act like farmers on the Great Plains. We grow serious and sage and look off into the distance and tell one another how a bit of rain was a good thing, and that we were about due, and how much it was going to green-up the lawn and the shrubs. It's hard to be in a bad mood when the rains come to town. No day is good for a wake, but this was probably as close to not bad as it gets. Besides, one thing my dad and I always agreed on was that rain was good for somebody’s crops somewhere, so I’d take that as justification enough. Now and then, the murmuring of the broadcast crew would cut away to something different and I’d glance back in from the rain. A news update – Nixon shaking his head, refusing to do something or other. Then some Senate hearing room, someone looking over his bifocals, sitting at a green felt table, shaking his own head, no doubt reacting to Nixon’s head shake. Everybody saying no, and nobody doing anything. That’s what it felt like, anyway, with still more head shaking to come at the evening news. Mike called from down the bar as he rinsed glasses, "Hey, Timmy, sorry, Father Tim, you good for now?" I was good. Shot and a beer. The shot was gone in a flash, but I was still working the beer. Don’t get sloppy before they even get here, I told myself. Mike had owned the Three Rocks Pub for decades, through several name changes, maybe since the time it was a cafe. I’d known him going on twenty years, though I was only in my mid-twenties myself. My old man would bring me along with him when I was barely five or six. Back then, it was less shocking to have a kid tag along when you went into your neighborhood pub. My mom would send him on errands with me – "It’ll be good for you, some time with your son, plus I get some quiet" – and we’d hit the hardware store or the pharmacy, or take TV tubes down to the repair shop to test them. Our TV was always blowing tubes. We’d have to load them into a box and take them down to the shop, then plug each of them into the machine. One at a time we’d try them until one failed, and that’s the one we’d replace. Four months later, a pop and a flash, and it would be time to take them all down again. Each time a different one failed. Second hand TVs will do that, I guess. Anyway, after the errand, we always seemed to end up downtown, maybe stop at the news stand where he’d get a dirty paperback from the little room behind the curtains, and I’d get a fistful of comics. Then, we’d find ourselves on 3rd Street. He’d say "Hey, let’s stop in the Three Rocks for a minute" like he was surprised to find us anywhere near the place. So, Mike had been my personal bartender for something like two decades. At first, he’d hand me a piece of bubble gum and a soft drink when I came in. Then, after a dozen years, I reached that magic age where he started handing me a shot and a beer, just like the grown ups – the other grownups, I should say. Except for the time I was off at seminary, that's how it was for countless Wednesdays over the years. Except that day was Tuesday. Wednesday is - was - evening Mass instead of morning. It was also CYO night, and even if Father Manuel were doing Mass, I never had anyone to fill in with the kids. The church's schedule is my schedule. Well, was my schedule. It was almost a quarter after five. Somewhere off to the West, there were a few breaks in the clouds. Shafts of light were bouncing eastward down the street, turning lonely streaks of rain golden. The showers were moving north to south, though, so it was unlikely we’d get any more sunlight than that. Suddenly, I was thirstier. "Hey, Mike, I wanna change my answer" I wiggled my finger at my empty shot glass. Mike swung a whiskey bottle around from the back counter. One-two-three-four count; the bottle was back on the counter before the ripples had completely settled. Two seconds later, the drinking was done, too. I went back to looking out the window, my fingers absent-mindedly but efficiently striping the side of my beer glass, sweeping away the condensation one narrow column at a time. People passed by, indoors and out. Outdoors, they would race by, pushing through to their destination and hoping to get there with some article of clothing still dry. A few glanced in with a wisp of longing draping their faces. They all knew that, in just a few steps, they could be inside, dry and slightly less thirsty. But they had to settle for just the imagining for now, dragging their eyes and attention back out the window and down the rain-splashed sidewalk. I was sitting quietly, trying to will the Cubs into action. Sure, I could’ve used my priestly powers and prayed for them to rally, but that wouldn’t have been fair. Nor had I found that to be generally effective. Off at the right edge of my awareness, I realized I was being watched, not an unusual occurrence. When I was young, I was occasionally referred to as Father WhatAWaste, though I’ve never been that good looking. The stare was always for the collar, yes. Back then, we were all still wearing our blacks everywhere. It was only from the 80s on that we started dressing like civilians in public. The reason for staring at the collar varied, though. There were those who stared daggers because they were angry at the church, and truth be told, it was often justified. Others stared out of curiosity, seldom seeing a priest out in the wild, and sometimes puzzlement, should they be surprised at the idea that a priest might find himself in a bar with a beverage in front of him. The third big group were the ones that most often came up to talk. They wanted to ask something or they wanted to ask for something. “Hey, father, what the heck is transubstantiation?” or “Hey, father, think you could help a fella out with …” I just sat. That’s what you do. You don’t want to spook them unnecessarily – or encourage them unnecessarily. I could tell it was the same woman who was at the end of the bar when I came in. She was a little older than me, maybe early 30s, dressed up a little bit, but not like she was going to the opera. She was downtown for a job interview and had nerves that needed watering down, maybe. Definitely nervous. She’d had two drinks to every one of mine so far, and was working on more. I waited, and then saw her in motion, very slowly growing in size until she was beside me. “Father …?” her hand was on the lip of the bar, where it had been all the way up to me, just to steady her a bit. “Yes?” “Are you Catholic or … the other?” “Yes, I’m Catholic – how may I help you, Miss …? I left the sentence open, but she didn’t fill it in with her name. “I … uhh … it’s about my mother. She’s Catholic. So am I, or at least I grew up that way ..." I knew that if I blinked wrong, she’d flee, so I just held myself steady and tried a calm smile. I wished she’d leave, but, that’s not what I signed up for. “Anyway, so, she’s having surgery day after tomorrow, female troubles, which she just found out a few weeks ago. Is there a special prayer or something … like …?” “Like a Mass in her name, maybe? Or a novena? Does she need someone to visit her? It might be better if it were her parish priest, but I could make sure …?” I was already overwhelming her. Too many choices. I put my hand out, resting it on her steadying hand, which had turned claw like, digging into the edge of the bar for more traction. “I’ll say a Mass for her, how about that? And I can give you a card if you need more.” “Sure, yeah – yes, I mean. That would be nice. I could tell her.” She reached for her pocketbook. “Oh, I’m forgetting myself - how much is customary for …?” “No, please – no donation. What about you, though?” This puzzled her and she started to step back. Suddenly, she seemed afraid I wanted her soul, or something even more intimate. “Me.” Her intonation was flat. It wasn’t a question, but a conclusion. Not the first time, clearly, she’d had that suspicion of someone. “You’re very upset. Should we pray for a moment?” I took her hands in mine, expecting her to simply lower her head. I’d wing something, she’d thank me, and hopefully feel a little better, and then we’d go back to our separate concerns. She relaxed a little, but then looked furtively around the bar and then over my shoulder to the windows. “Oh, father, that’s really not … I appreciate it, but … I’m not very …” She took her hands back. “I’ll be sure and let my mother know, father. I know she’ll appreciate it.” With or without my help, she’d bucked herself back up, strong fake smile on her face now. We were done. I think she actually curtsied a little before returning to her stool, back at the barroom’s end. After that, she kept glancing my way – or at least looking past me at the window. I realized she’d left without my card, and was going to walk it over to her, but decided that she was probably happier without it. I wasn’t sure I’d done anything helpful. That’s part of the job, also, not just having faith in God, but having faith that you’re actually being useful, because, like God, you seldom get to see it clearly. When I was young, it bothered me more than it does now. The rest of my beer vanished pretty quickly, and Mike brought me my second, along with another shot. “Slow,” I reminded myself, “they’re not even here yet.” Two older guys came in and lingered by the door as they shook water from their jackets. The older of the two also had an umbrella, which got shaken and stowed in the rack next to the door. I watched them, but they weren’t who I was waiting for. I was expecting two of my father’s friends, men of a punctual generation, arriving early only slightly more often than they arrived late, which was decidedly seldom. They wouldn’t likely show up until just a few minutes to six. The older you get, the more predictable your habits, and these guys were old enough to be very predictable. My eyes followed this other pair to a table off to the right, then let them go, drifting back to the Cubs game. Bottom of the seventh, Cubs ahead by three, but that might not last. Birds of despair often came to roost where the Cubs were involved. A man in a big camel hair coat shoved through the door, shaking himself and his umbrella as he pushed back through the bar as though working himself upstream. Navigating around the tables, he brushed against my shoulder. "Sorry, buddy ... father, I mean, sorry father!" Sometimes, it’s nice not being noticed. I waved a “no problem” and watched out of the corner of my eye for him to reappear as he passed behind me. He was very focused. I turned to face the bar directly so I could see him out of the corner of my eye, and my guess was right. He was making a beeline straight toward my new friend. He kept leaning further and further to the left, and I briefly wondered if he'd started his drinking earlier somewhere else, but then I realized the truth of the matter. He was leaning left to block my line of sight. She probably wasn’t his wife or sister … or cousin, real estate agent, stock broker … Tupperware dealer … none of that. He’d just rushed from the office to meet an attractive younger woman, dressed up a little but not too much, in a not-too-brightly lit bar at the less busy end of downtown. It only took him a few words and a gesture over his shoulder - a gesture my direction – for her to pick up her coat and gloves and head for the door, with him following. They swung a wide arc around me, along the opposite wall. Sure, there was more room to maneuver back there, but mostly it was the distance it afforded them from me, a distance she augmented by powdering her nose and scratching her cheek as she walked, at least until she was more back than front to me, and then they were both out the door. It was the adult equivalent of the child’s gambit of “If I can’t see him, maybe he can’t see me.” There was any number of less priestly places they might have been headed, maybe just to the nearest pub without a built-in priest. Then again, they could have decided to adjourn and move on to what was surely their final destination anyway. That end of downtown wasn't lacking in motels with casual check-in procedures, and probably still isn’t. Afterward, she’d go home to a lonely apartment, or maybe her room at her mother’s house, and he’d go home and kiss his wife on the lips and hug his kids tight. Was I judging? I suppose I was, but not so much now. She’s probably a grandmother with her own kids and grand kids to hug, and her own husband to kiss. Like all of us, she’s got her own regrets and her own things that keep her grounded in the world. If we’re lucky, we have the latter. I turned from that game to the one on TV. The Giants had taken a one run lead, and the Cubs had two outs left to undo the damage. The count was full with two men in scoring position. The crowd was on its feet. The reliever was starting his windup. The front door opened. Rain blew in, followed by Henry and Roy, who shook themselves like dogs, then settled quickly into a booth at the front window, but farthest from the door. I grabbed my beer and overcoat and headed to their table, leaving my empty shot glass behind. It wasn’t going to hurt me to wait a few more minutes for the next. Since my coat was already starting to dry, I lifted Henry's from the coat rack attached to the booth and stuck mine under. Roy was the first to notice me. He stood up from the booth and gave me a big back-patting hug. "Hey, Tim. Your dad would like this, one more for old times. How ya keepin'? Holding up okay?" Ray had met my dad in high school, and they’d been thick as thieves since. I shrugged like you do for questions like that. Or you say "Eh, could be worse" or something along those lines. Why should you invite misfortune or divine retribution by complaining about the hand you’re holding? Henry reached for my hand across the table as I sat down. He gave me the once over. "You're lookin' okay, Timmy. Guess the priesthood agrees with you." I shrugged again. I knew Henry too well to throw out some platitudes about the satisfactions of doing the Lord's work. Henry had met my dad and Roy right out of high school. He and my dad went into the Marines and got stationed together. They weren’t that much alike, and Henry always set my teeth on edge, but saving my dad’s life in North Africa had earned him a permanent invitation from my dad. Even though I hadn’t seen them in years, aside from my dad’s funeral, I'd known these guys for decades, from back before time mattered to me. They were part of my dad's Wednesday night circle, usually here at the Three Rocks, but sometimes at Grey's, where maybe they'd have a slopper with their beers, or maybe Gus’. Now and then, they went up to some dives on the mesa, or maybe one of the joints out on Northern that the steel workers would fill up at five o'clock. Usually, though, it was right here. They’d been a quintet starting out, but Manny died of an aneurism and Kent moved to Ohio to spend more time with grandkids. "Y'know, Tim, they changed the booths out a few years back, but ... " Ray looked around, trying to recall the old layout "... when you'd come in with your dad, sometimes you'd sit with us up at the bar, but sometimes he'd park you right about here so you could look out the window." "All this time, I thought it was so I wouldn't be in the way, and so you guys could say whatever you want without, y’know, little pitchers." He watched my face for a moment, then gave a sideways shrug. "You could see it a couple of ways, I guess. That's how I always saw it, but I guess I could be wrong." I’d embarrassed him without really meaning to. I was on edge, but it wasn’t his fault. I shrugged a half-hearted concession of my own. "Hey, it was a long time ago." I don't know why I was arguing with Ray. I never had reason for a face-off with Ray. Harry Truman said one of the best compliments he could give was to say someone was alright from the navel out in all directions. That was Ray. Henry may have been my godfather by way of North Africa, but Ray was the one who acted like it. "And eventually you were joining us up there with the brews and the stories." He raised his glass toward me and smiled. I did the same. "Yes, indeed. My move up from Pepsi and Bazooka Joe to Boilermakers." "When I became a man, I put away childish things." I was looking at Roy, but his lips didn’t move with the words. It took a moment for me to realize that the words came from Henry. I couldn’t remember ever hearing him quote scripture before. I’d have remembered. I’d certainly have remembered if I’d heard him quote it in such a surreal context. "First Corinthians, 13:11." That was my contribution. Henry squinted like he didn’t get the reference. I moved on. With the ice broken, the storytelling began in earnest, like a long, intricate poker game. I’ll see your story about the time everyone piled into Manny’s station wagon and went up to fish at Lake DeWeese at three in the morning, and raise you a story about what happens when you drink too much at your son’s softball tournament and throw up on the trophies. Things happened that way. My dad was a good guy, with the occasional embarrassing, exuberant lapse. Glancing at the rain, I remembered a different rainy day when Angie, Bill and I had been down at the park playing. I was no more than eleven, so they were six and eight, respectively. Things got dark and it started to rain, so we took off for home. We’d made it almost to the carport when dark turned to dark green and hail started thudding down around and at us. By the time we were under cover, the dime-sized hail had become quarter-sized, then very quickly as big as fifty cent pieces. We were actually getting hit by fragments of ice thrown off when the hail came down right around the covering. Looking up was like watching a bag of jiffy pop on the burner. The sheet metal was going from very flat to very dented quickly. We huddled closer to the car. “Listen,” I told them. “We might have to hide under the car if it gets worse. We can’t make it to the house right now.” They nodded back, the fright on their faces speaking silent volumes. Then we heard our dad yelling from the front step. “Tim! Bill! Angie!” He got it out twice before I yelled back loud enough for him to hear above the doomsday clatter. “We’re under the carport! We’re under the carport!” Their fears had made them mute; mine had helped me call out. The front door banged shut again, and we just looked at each other. We were resigned to wait out the storm. What could he do? He’d probably get killed if he came out in this. The three of us looked down at the front bumper, considering our next best option for refuge. The hail wasn’t getting any smaller. Worse, occasionally we’d hear a very loud bang when something even larger hit the covering. Angie and Bill’s faces were clear. They were wondering the same thing I was. We expected any moment for the hail to start coming through, or maybe start bouncing off the sidewalk and ricocheting at us. One of the bangs sounded different, though. Duller and more distant, not from above, but back toward the house. I looked up and around and saw our dad running out the back door, covered in the heavy quilt my grandmother had made for my parents when they married. He must’ve had a pillow under the quilt for more protection, because the top was wide and rectangular. When he got to the carport, we raced for him, but he said “One at a time. Girls first – Angie!” She tucked herself under the blanket and grabbed hold of his belt and they were off. Fifteen feet to the house, and they were at the steps just as mom opened the back door. His improvised shuttle ran twice more, first for Billy and then for me. At the last slam of the back door, all five of us were standing in the kitchen, looking a little astonished. I looked around at everyone and started to cry. Bill and Angie followed after with their tears. I felt foolish, being the oldest kid, but the first to cry. We were safe and I was crying. Dad came and put a hand on my shoulder, and I shook my head at my shame. He pulled me closer in a half-hug and said, “It’s okay. I know it’s scary sometimes being in charge.” I didn’t realize until he spoke that that was exactly what I was reacting to. I was only in charge and under fire for a moment, and I did okay, but it scared me how much Bill and Angie had been counting on me in that moment. After playing the whole event through in my silent mind, I told Roy and Henry the story, which was one they’d never heard before. After that, I told them about a time when I was fourteen. My dad had just come back from visiting my mother in the hospital, and was really frustrated with how her cancer treatments were going. He came in and made sure we all had supper and were sent off to bed, then he went out in the back yard and tore half of our gazebo down until the steam was gone, his hands were bloodied, and his breathing came in sharp, hacking coughs. I watched out my bedroom window, absorbing more than watching or recording. For my own reasons, I spent years trying to forget that story as the years passed, but it pursued me now, reminding me of the depth of his emotion, the raw side of his anger, in the face of a bitter wrong. Both Ray and Henry had come over the next weekend, along with a guy from my dad's work crew, and helped put it back in order. As far as I know, none of them discussed anything about it, sharing any emotions overtly. He asked "Hey, if you’re not doing anything Saturday, think maybe you could give me a hand?" They said "Sure." When they got there, someone said "... son of a bitch, Steve ..." and he said "Yeah, I know ..." That was the extent of their conversational therapy, and the extent of his confession. "Yeah, I know ..." Sometimes the best and the worst you can expect is "Yeah, I know." Henry changed the tone while still carrying forward the violence theme. He insisting on telling us about the time he, my dad, and two guys both named Darren got drunk, got into a fight, and busted up a bunch of chairs and tables at La Tronicas, right in the middle of some old couple's anniversary dinner. It was a couple of weeks after they graduated high school. They were all going off to the military to “get straightened up and learn a trade,” as my grandfather put it at the time. Ray shook his head. I shook my head. Henry's head shook with laughter. I’d heard the story before, and like most of Henry’s proudest stories, it was Henry and the two Darrens causing trouble, or whoever was tagging along with Henry, and my dad getting sucked in to try to settle things. Trying to get the stories back on a more positive track, Ray reminded me how my dad pretty much single-handedly ran the Parish Bazaar at St. Leander's every year, and how people would always say "You want it done, get Steve." Or Stefano, Esteban, Stefan, etc., depending on the ethnicity of whoever was talking. We had Anglos, Italians, Hispanics, Poles and others, but mostly the first three. "And," he said, "let's not forget boy's boxing, which is what kept a skinny bookworm like you from getting beat up every week - until you got that protective collar, of course." He slapped me on the arm, then said, "Whoa. Guess you kept fit at the seminary. Boy's got a bicep like an oak there, Henry." Henry waved the comment down, taking Roy's word for it. I shrugged for what must've been the fifteenth time. Part of the job. Priests are supposed to be humble and self-deprecating. "Yeah, well, after a while, it became a habit. I got used to it, so I kept up with it in the seminary. And, it does make a pretty good workout." "Your old man was pretty tough, Timmy, almost as tough as me, maybe. Think you coulda took him?” Henry cocked his head and made an obvious point of sizing me up. "What the hell kinda question is that, Henry?" "Ease up, Roy. It's a damn joke." Roy and I traded glances. Neither of us needed to waste our breath saying anything. Just let it die. Mike came by to welcome the guys, and to slipstream into the conversation for a moment. "This guy – he’s ‘Father Somebody’ now, but back in the day, I used to give him a pop and gum when he'd come in with his dad. Now, look at him. He talks with the bishop and he can still out drink the likes of you old ladies. His father, God rest him, would be proud." They nodded and raised their glasses, which happened to be empty, in my direction. Mike clamped a iron-like hand down on my shoulder and scooped our empties up with the other. "You know he would." he said directly to me. The refills came back on a tray. Beer and a shot, beer and a shot, another shot, then beer and something golden in a snifter. Before any of us could ask, Mike said "Benedictine" and clapped my back. "You should develop a taste for it, for when you become a bishop!" He laughed deeply, not in jest, but like he was already richly celebrating that moment sometime in his vaguely imagined future, when I might be consecrated as bishop. I wouldn't necessarily have wanted to be his pastor, but he was always "good people." He hoisted his shot and called out "Down the hatch, boys - slainte!" A mumbled chorus replied in kind. I threw back my Benedictine as they threw back their whiskeys, then the shot glasses vanished into Mike’s catcher's mitt of a hand. Mike took himself back to the bar, satisfied that he had made a contribution to the moment. The three of us wandered through other topics, with alcohol and our wobbly conversational legs taking us in circles and tangents. I brushed aside mention of talking with the bishop - "it's nothing ... all the priests talk to him at least twice a year ..." or me becoming a bishop - "I just don't see that happening. A, I'm not a politician, and B, I've got plenty other things on my plate." We talked some about how Angie and Bill were doing. They were both younger than me, and after mom died, they both had some rough times adjusting. I didn’t seem to have as much trouble, but maybe I just didn’t have a lot of time to have a rough time. I was in middle school when she got sick and a sophomore when she died, and almost immediately after I transferred from public school into minor seminary, which kept me plenty busy. Angie was three years younger and Billy was two years back of her. They had memories and conflicts, and maybe more time to grow together and heal each other, and I had studies. The light outside was starting to fade, going from rain grey to twilight blue. I checked my watch. Back in the day, especially in the days of Manny and Kent, these sessions usually ran upwards of three hours, but I had no idea how long this might last, whether shorter or longer. It was our own little wake for my dad, in a place that was essentially his sanctuary. It would take as long as it took, and I just needed to let go for a while, let it play itself out. Plus, there was a conversation I’d been waiting two weeks to have with Henry, and if he was loosened up more by the time we had it, I thought maybe it would be a good kind of loose. Once he caught up, I just kept pace with Roy, or vice versa. Henry was easily outdrinking us, having three to each of our two. I knew his liver had lots of practice, but even so, I was a little surprised. Still, sometimes things happen for a reason. Half the time when Henry drank, he’d spiral down into his own simmering pool of loathing. This was turning into one of those times. Already, he had gotten to the point where he was popping off about just about everything. Maybe the only people who didn't piss him off when he got drunk were himself, Jesus Christ, and Suzanne Pleshette. I don’t know the specific reason for his attraction to her, but he had an unshakeable fixation. When he was really drunk, it was just him and Suzanne Pleshette who held his favor. When it came right down to it, I suspected it was really only Ms. Pleshette that he didn't hate. He would fill his own head, his own space, with racist, sexist, creepy questions and comments, then unleash them on the surroundings. It was that unleashing that tended to cause him the most problems - the fact that he didn't keep it at his table or in his group. Already, he'd made comments about pretty much everyone within a dozen feet, which included five tables worth of people. Women grimaced and turned away, men squinted and shifted in their seats, prepared to get up if it turned necessary. Henry hadn’t always been this bad, but I’d heard that by time my dad died, you could count on angry bystanders when Henry was drinking with you. Roy and I admittedly had left him untethered for a while. He was going to do what he wanted in the long run, and sometimes a person got tired of playing nursemaid with him. Once we started paying attention again, I tried to get him to hold it down a little, as did Roy, albeit maybe a little less gentle than me. Still, Roy didn’t want to completely spoil things with a confrontation, and I wasn’t inclined to rush a confrontation with Henry, especially one I considered off topic. I apologized to people he was bothering, whether face to face or with a distant gesture. Before we could even ask, Mike signaled to us that Henry was cut off. Roy and I talked for a bit about his family, while Henry stewed and threw out wisecracks, then we both came to the same conclusion. Our time was done. Now was the sending off. At that point in time, our paths really hadn’t crossed much for years. Given our ever diverging lives, I knew that that goodbye could easily be the big goodbye. I didn’t want to rush it for the sake of my dad’s memory, but I also didn’t want to drag it on and on. Also, Roy had had more than his fill of Henry. It was time for him to leave, and the sooner he could talk Henry into the car, the sooner he could drop in at his house and be rid of him for a while. After several minutes of wrangling, Henry was far from persuaded that he was ready to go. I told Roy to leave him in my hands. I'd try to get him sobered a bit, then deliver him home myself. On the plus side, Henry’s hostility curve was beginning to drop. I was hoping we'd get out of there without someone taking a swing at him, and it looked like we might have a chance. This was one of those times when having the collar was a tactical advantage. People would say, "Well, okay, father, I’ll let you handle it.” What they usually didn’t add, but always meant was “… for now.” Trust in a priest’s abilities only goes so far. Roy slipped his coat on and paid his tab with Mike before slipping out into the wet night. Henry and I were alone with one another for the first time in maybe a decade. He was still in no condition to go more than twenty feet under his own power, and maybe even with an assist. I glanced around the bar. There were some unoccupied booths toward the back, near the restrooms. I figured the thing to do was get him not only away from other people, but also closer to a place he could more conveniently be sick. I helped him wobble down the length of the pub, then poured him into one side of the farthest booth. I took the other side, facing out, so I could watch. I didn’t want either of us to get ambushed by someone with a slow fuse. I caught Mike’s eye and gestured for two coffees. "You're a good kid, Timmy." Henry started nicely enough, the words anyway, but the tone was denigrating. The words themselves almost immediately became so, too. The next thing he said was that I "didn't understand the real world." According to him, it was a good thing I became a priest so I could hide from the bad things out in the real world. He said he was sure that my dad worried about right up until his death that I was too weak and kind, that he hadn't toughened me up enough. I only half believed him, and let him go on. I wanted to see how much he'd say, how close he’d get to hanging himself with his own tongue. He told some more stories about adventures with my dad, mostly when they were young, like just after the war. My dad was trying to stay in a trade school and learn tv and radio repair, and Henry was trying to hold down an apprentice carpenter job long enough to make it to journeyman. Still they'd go out a lot, and usually it was Henry causing trouble. Henry drinking too much, Henry starting fights that my six foot father had to finish for him, Henry harassing girls and getting too fresh, Henry stealing tools from his job. Not that he put it that way, but I knew the lay of the land. Because of the debt my dad felt he owed him, he was always within arm’s reach of Henry’s trouble. I thought maybe Henry was inching close to the particular confession I was waiting for, but not there yet. He was telling his own "war stories" now and reveling in his corrupt ways, ways he'd learned, he said, from his father, who was “a raging bull with huge brass balls,” as he put it. "... taught me everything I know” he said. Lay end to end all of the stories I’d actually heard from Henry over the years, and my dad had probably saved his life several times over for the one time in North Africa. There was no debt, and hadn’t been for a while. My dad had a surplus in the bank. It was Henry running a deficit, and a pretty huge one based on everything I knew. "Now, your dad, Tim ... he was a good guy. It was good for him that he met your mother, God rest her. I'm surprised she put up with me, Miss Nancy Purepants, but ~" I reached down and grabbed his wrist to get his attention. Steely. Vice-like in fact. I shook my head at him. I wasn’t about to let him go there. He could shit on me and shit on my dad, but he was going to leave my mom out of this. He squinted up toward me, his eyes zigzagging up until finally finding my own. He knew what he was doing, and why I was responding like I was. He was intent on going for broke. "Y'know, your mom had the cutest little ~" I shifted my grip, twisting his wrist around and snapping it into an acute and painful angle, which seemed to help regain his attention and shift his focus. "You know what makes for even better conditioning than boxing, Henry? Ju-jitsu. You should try it some time.” I had the table for leverage, so he wasn’t going anywhere, not with his wrist intact. He yelped and his eyes watered. He tried twisting out of it, but that only pulled him downward, bouncing his nose against the table. As drunk as he was, he had left himself few options other than surrender. "I had a special reason for wanting to see you tonight, Henry. My dad told me a story just before he died. Kind of a deathbed confession, though it wasn't really about him. It was about you and something you did - something he let you keep secret and hidden all these years." I raised my eyebrows and waited for him to react. Would he argue, deny, plead? Cagey, even when drunk, he waited to see if I was going to continue. When he finally looked up, he tried to read my eyes. He didn’t know what I was talking about, but not because he was innocent. Clearly, he was trying to figure out exactly which sin I was referring to, which I’d gotten wise to. Tell me about your thing for young girls, Henry.” His face changed a little, but the searching didn’t stop. What could he be wondering about, unless there were multiple incidents with multiple girls. Even if my dad wasn’t aware of any stories than the one he told me, it was pretty clear that Henry had plenty. I gave his jack-knifed wrist a little turn and saw heat in his eyes. His mind was drunk enough for a savage fight, given the chance, but his body was too drunk for it to end well for him. I was going to stay in control, he would confess to me, and then we’d both move on. "Tell me – specifically - about Natalie Alvarez. I want to hear her story from your mouth, and then I’ll take you home." At that, his face relaxed. It threw me for a loop momentarily, then I realized why and a chill passed through me. Natalie wasn’t the only one, and she wasn't the worst one. He had bigger, darker secrets that had nothing to do with Natalie, episodes that dwarfed whatever he had done with her. She was a minor accident that my father happened to stumble upon. Furthermore, I’d just shown him my entire hand. Not only was Natalie the only one l I knew about, but once I got his “confession” all I intended to do was drive him home. With a tight smile that bordered on a smirk, Henry began to speak, sotto voce, so that only he and I could hear, "Bless me father, for I have sinned ..." It wasn't so much the smile that did it, but when he paused at that point and winked. That was the thing that pushed my button. With a mind of its own, my free hand slapped him. I didn’t glance up, but knew some people had to have turned to look back at us at that point. After the slap, I, Father Tim, wrenched his wrist. "Start again - without the sacrilege, or I’ll break it for you right now." "There's no story, boy. I could tell she wanted it. I was going to give it to her. Your father came in and interrupted things, then got bent out of shape about it." "You're a liar. Natalie was eleven. She was quiet and shy and a year behind me at Parkview. I knew her because we both helped in the library. Are you seriously going to try to pretend she came on to you?" "Gimme a break, Timmy. I knew the family. Natalie was on her way to being a first rate little whore, just like her mother and aunts. It was only a matter of time before she showed her colors, boy." "How did you get her alone?" "I was clearing things out of the storeroom in the parish school. I took her along to find some books that Sister Innocentia wanted while I reorganized. Trust me, she was only too happy to help. We both rummaged around a while, then I asked her come to the back of the store room and give me a hand with something else." He stopped long enough to imply that he thought the story was done. I tugged on his wrist to assure him that it wasn’t. "Don't worry, your dad turned up a few minutes after that, looking for paint rollers. All I'd done was grope her titties and get one hand in her panties. If she hadn't been blubbering and squirming so much, there’s no telling what your sainted father might have walked in on by then. I'd probably have had her doubled over one of the storage containers, and her precious little ..." he cocked his head at me, then changed tack, "... so little Father Timmy, am I getting you hard? You would've liked her, even before you became a priest. She was so cute and perky ... wait ... you did know her, didn't you? In school together, right. Library and stuff. Don't tell me you never thought of dipping your wick into ~" The second slap was even louder than the first, but this time, nobody bothered to turn. They had been surprised by the first. By the second, they knew that they didn’t want it to be any of their business. He lolled his head while I tried to keep myself under control. I wasn’t sure what else I was wanting from him, especially given his state of sobriety at the moment. I knew I wasn’t going to get any contrition from him. That was a lost cause. Was there anything more to tell me about Natalie? I hoped not. As for the others … no, I didn’t know where to lead him, and didn’t expect to want to hear what more he’d have to say. It was time to go, to put this all behind me. "Listen, Henry, you're going to get up now, and step out back to get yourself together. I'm going to walk out front and get my car, and then you and I are going to leave here. I'll close you out with Mike. You’re done. Now, get up." With the help of the bench back and the coat rack, he ratcheted himself up to his feet. I could’ve helped him, but I couldn’t stand the thought of touching him. He shuffled unsteadily past the men's room and up against the alley door. Before he pushed out, though, he turned and smirked at me again. "So, you're not going to make me promise on my mother's grave to never do anything like that again? That's what your father did, guess he probably told you. Maybe it would actually work, you bein’ a priest and all. Anyway, thanks for being my confessor, padre." He slipped out the door and it banged softly behind him. I wanted to just go into the men's room and throw up for an hour or two. This jackal - laughing at my naive father, who trusted and believed him, laughing in my face and claiming me as his priest confessor. I felt like pushing him into a dark hole somewhere. I swung by Mike on the way out and said "He's sick - can I get him out of here and square both of us with you tomorrow?" "You know you can, Tim. Hey, if I can't trust the bishop's right hand, who can I trust? Am I right?" "He's very sick." I said absently. Mike glanced toward the back door and shook his head. "He is at that, Tim. A long time now. Your dad, God rest him, was a saint for putting up with him all these years." I nodded and hit the front door. I trotted through the rain to my Olds, which was down at the far end of the block. I spun back over to the Three Rocks and whipped around the building into the alley. Henry was under the overhang at the back door, leaning against the building, out of the rain. I pulled up alongside and was about two paces away when he glanced up. I thought about taking my gloves off, in case he decided to throw up on me, but I decided that if my overcoat could take it, my gloves could. "Where the fuck you been, you little shit? I'm soaked to the bone." I kept calm while he was saying it. I really did. I was ten feet away and very calm, very focused. I knew my objective. I'd get him in the car and home, then my hands were clean of him. That was fine for me, sure, protecting myself from getting tangled up, but I then remembered Natalie in the library, and realized I got tangled up the moment my dad confessed to me. I saw her face laughing at something silly I’d done. Now, I was trapped. I knew and had to do something. I knew, and held their pain in my hands. I had to say, to do something, and he would get justice for those girls all those years ago. Or … maybe there were new girls somewhere, too, a trail of violations right up to today. He could’ve stopped on his way to the Three Rocks to molest someone, for all I knew. My head felt like it was filling with water. I felt the pressure, and everything outside was muffled. He could’ve done it even today, but I could stop him from doing it again. My dad didn’t stop him, though. His naïve trust in his friends failed him, and that failure cascaded down to Natalie and all the others, whatever unnamed others there might have been. Maybe people would find out about my father knowing. Every good thing he’d ever done would be darkened and I would be powerless to protect him. From a more self-serving perspective, I wouldn’t even be able to protect my own career in the church. The alley became a river of shame, and I swam upstream, trying to reach Henry before I got swept away, before I drowned inside my own head. He didn’t realize what danger we were in, watching me with a sick sneer on his face. I was almost to him. I could stretch an arm out and grab his collar and drag him into the car where we’d both be safe. My left hand scraped at his coat until it reached his collar and locked on. Once I had a hold on him, though, the waters began to boil. My arm turned to flame, my neck tensed, and the tension spread down the length of my arms, flowing down into my hands, and tightening them into fists. I made a bargain with myself. I would punch him once, just once and then stop myself. With that satisfaction, I’d load him into my car, and once I delivered him home, our next meeting would be with the law between us. With a fistful of his collar, I yanked him forward, then drove the other fist full force into his stomach, doubling him over. I told myself to stop, even said it out loud. The first shot was too satisfying, though. His pained expression, the guttural sound he heaved out as he folded around my fist seemed to drive the waters back. I watched myself from somewhere upstream, repeating that first shot over and over. I knew I should intervene, but I couldn’t move myself to. A few more hits, and I managed to back myself a few feet, trying to get some real distance from the situation, wanting to regain some sanity. No sooner had I stepped back than I reached for him again. I spun him against the car and resumed flailing. As my fists pummeled his face, bending him back against the car, I asked him, "So, Henry, correct me if I’m wrong, but it sounded in the bar like you were asking to have the shit beat out of you. You were, right? You were just asking for it, right? Just like Natalie and who knows how many little girls were just asking to be fondled or raped, right? I'm sure you wouldn't want anyone to come out and get all bent out of shape and try to stop me, now would you, Henry?" Whatever his reply was, it gurgled out between gasps of air. His broken nose was leaking blood not only into his throat but down his face and over his mouth. All of that was keeping him busy enough, but he was also trying to figure out how to make his arms do something useful to protect himself. That was alright, though, because when his arms moved to cover his face, I punished his belly. When he shifted his shield down, I shifted my aim up. Easy, right? You don't have to train for fifteen years to figure that out. My arms were tired, my legs, my whole body was somehow aching. The flood was going down, the muffled sense in my ears was being replaced by my own rasping breath and pounding pulse. A small light, a flash of awareness, entered in. I was only making matters worse. Henry would be consumed for his sins, yes, but so would my father, and so, most assuredly now, would I. Could I even go to the police with my accusations? Would everything be tainted by my rage? Everything had become a question. Some of those questions got answered very quickly, when in the midst of moving top to bottom, I swung wild and nailed him right in the throat. Suddenly, he had a lot more blood flowing into his throat, and no good way to clear it. His eyes rolled and his legs wobbled. Suddenly, all he cared about was the air he could no longer have. I’d seen that before, serving Extreme Unction in the hospital. He was leaving now, and I had sped him on his way. I let loose of his body and he slid slowly to the ground, flailing about like a dying fish. I stepped away and watched the spasms diminish. There was a mile between us now, and he was spiraling still further away. I could take him to St. Mary Corwin – or maybe Parkview was closer, but he would be gone by the time I hoisted him into the car. In fact, as I was thinking that very thing, he left, his life energies gone like a fist when you open your hand. My gloves were bloodied. I was drenched in rain on the outside and sweat on the inside, but as far as I could see, only the gloves showed blood. Henry was dying, no, already dead. I could barely connect the two inside my pounding skull – my bloody hands, his empty body. Up to that point, I’d had no idea that anything like that was down inside of me. Priests are supposed to know what’s down inside their soul, or so we’re told. It was just the two of us out there, and that hailstorm of violence could only have been my doing. I’d planned a showdown with Henry, but this was nothing like I’d imagined, nothing like I expected that I could imagine. I waited for my breathing to slow and steady itself, watching as the rain rinsed the blood off my car. Enough time had passed. I knew I’d have to act soon, do something to make things look right, look plausible, and myself look innocent. I yanked off my gloves, then in a burst of inspiration used a thin metal bar nearby to pry a hub cap off my car and stuff them inside. Surely, nobody would think to look there. I backed the car up a few feet so it was just shy of Henry's body. I took his wallet out with my handkerchief, stuffed the money into my pocket, then tossed the rest of it over by the trash cans. I checked for a pulse, confirming what I did not doubt. When I was satisfied that there was none, I took his body against mine and dragged it just under the overhang. It seemed right. There was now blood on my coat, blood that would make sense to a cop. All that done, I took a couple of deep breaths, then burst through the rear door, shouting for Mike to call the police and an ambulance, and for someone to come back and give me a hand. "Henry was robbed and beaten in the alley!" I added. One of the dads from earlier, the one who looked ready to give Henry a beating himself sprinted back toward the door as Mike reached for the phone. When the man, whose name turned out to be Dale, got there, he found me cradling Henry's head in my hands. He watched me check his neck for a pulse I knew wasn't there, and his eyes for movement that I also knew was absent, then surrender to the inevitable. He also heard me say, "Don't worry, Henry. I'll tell Natalie you said goodbye." It was egregious and cruel, yes, but no more cruel than Henry himself, and no more egregious than beating him to death on the suspicion that he was a serial rapist. Plus, only Henry, God, and I would get it. Really, all Dale could suppose was that I was carrying a message to a loved one. I dug an umbrella out of the car and asked him to hold it over Henry for me. I leaned against the hood of my car, the headlight half obscured by my overcoat. I tried to examine my knuckles without making it too obvious. I didn’t seem to have any hard-to-explain abrasions, though they'd very definitely be sore the next day. Dale looked at me, then looked at Henry, and then back at me. "Ain't you gonna give him last rites, Father?" "Last Rites are for the living. He's long gone by now, but yes - there is still a blessing." I shoved myself off the car bumper and knelt again next to Henry. I made the Sign of the Cross on his forehead and began "Ego facultate mihi ab Apostolic Sede tributa, indulgentiam plenariam ..." as a lone siren made its way toward us. At least as far as God was concerned, he was absolved of all his sins, despite the fact that he had just become the only person likely to be healed of the aftermath of his actions. It wasn’t my preference, but it was my job. At my next confession, I admitted to being enraged and to beating a man, but I left off the part about "to death" so by any standard, it was an invalid confession. So have been all the subsequent confessions where I inched closer to honesty, but never achieved it. For forty years, I've told myself that we’ve all been better off without Henry all this time. The next day, I went back in to settle up the tab with Mike. I haven’t been in Three Rocks since I paid the tab. Not only that, this next December, I’ll collect my five year year pin from AA. I wished that it was true, what Henry said, that wearing the collar protected me from the real world. But that's not how it is. It wasn’t then and it isn’t now.. Nor, evidently, does it protect the real world from me. Wherever you hide, the real world finds you.

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