#I was never at the level of dreaming about them before this latest obsession wave lol

[lesbianphan]

Just like in phanfiction, in my nightmare today Phil straight up died

[the-cat-at-the-theatre-door]

This might be a tad angsty but in your microcanon, what's the nature of the relationship between Macavity and Jemima? Since she was born and grew up a little while Demeter was still with him, what's her impression of him?

Jemima's impression of and relationship with her biological father is very mixed and complicated. tl;dr - Jemima's extreme empathy levels make it so that she can't help but try to find good in people, even when there isn't much left to be found.

And if that weren’t enough, Jemima harbors the very real fear of turning out to be just like him.

For starters, she didn't know that Macavity was her father until closer to the tail end of her time with him. For the first month of her life, Jemima's whole little world was too loud, too bright, and too much. Shapes and colours swirled in her mind restlessly, every touch grated against her skin like sandpaper, bugs crawled under her skin, the emotions of those around her stung the violently at back of her throat, but she could put no name to any of these things. She knew nothing of her situation, of the blood running through her veins, except the startling reality of her own existence. She could only cry until they quieted down.

In the weeks that followed, everything Jemima knew revolved around her mother and the handful of cats who drifted in and out of her field of vision like shadows; she remembers crooked torn ears and red handprints and black and orange stripes. She remembers how they smelled and what the timbers of their voices sounded like buzzing in her skull. These were safe cats - they must be. She cannot taste her mother's fear when they are around her.

Macavity showed very little interest in his heirs unless they showed promise in the magic department (Macavity is obsessed with legacy almost as much as anything else). And even then, it wasn't so much an interest in *them* as it was in their ability. Still, Macavity made a point of seeing her once in her first week, as he did with the others (a kitten useless as an heir has other uses, afterall). Demeter holds her breath when he reaches to touch her, bites so hard on her tongue she tastes blood to keep from gathering Jemima away from him.

There is something in Jemima that shows promise. A lot of promise. He senses the magic in her blood is strong. He is pleased. Tendrils of well done, slither through Demeter's head, leaving ringing in their wake.

Jemima does not remember this visit, does not remember any different cat, but she feels disquiet when her mother whispers of that time to her. When she closes her eyes and concentrates, she feels the tip of a claw press under her milk wet chin, lifting her head to the light.

On two separate occasions, when she was very little, Demeter found Jemima curled between Macavity's forepaws listening with childlike innocence as he spoke to her in a low, honeyed tone, so sickly and saccharine it made the hairs at the back of Demeter's neck stand up. She is never there by Demeter's own choice. He located her, a sheep strayed from the flock, or has lured her purposefully from her bed, to await the vicious warning he has for her mother just behind the guise of the smile twisting his muzzle. Jemima is not there for fatherly affection; she is there as a threat. As an...encouragement of Demeter's obedience.

Kittens, as I said, are useful in other ways.

Both times, she clings to Jemima when he allows her to scamper back to her, trying to keep the bile down as the kitten's little voice meows an innocent "bye bye", prompting another smirk from under his whiskers. Demeter takes her away as fast as possible, nodding her understanding. It is no longer her own life Macavity is playing with. She cannot afford to make mistakes.

Jemima is under constant watch after that.

Or at least as much as they possibly can

The first time Jemima met her father consciously, that she can remember, she did not know he was her father. She didn't even know that this was Macavity; this was the cat that all the others whispered about. But she knew something was not quite right about the cat towering before her. She was caught sneaking around one of the grand ballrooms, and taken to him by one of the queen henchcats, who Jemima only remembers as smelling of brine and hunger. The henchcats know better than to screw around with Macavity's favoured heirs - that was his domain and his alone.

"Good evening, Jemima." His voice sounds familiar, but it is not settling or comforting like other familiar voices in Jemima's life. This voice, artificially warm, has an edge to it, as though it is wound so tight it could snap at any moment.

His skin seems to shift and bubble as he leans down to look her in the eye. He reeks so much of authority that Jemima nearly chokes on it. Macavity does not look whole - he looks like so many segmented pieces stitched together. Jemima does not see the image he attempts to project forward to her - the gentlecat made to look unthreatening and meek. What she sees is altogether indescribable and pulsing with magic; what she sees is right through the cracks in Macavity's mask.

He is immediately unsettled by this.

She cannot put her paw onto why, but something in her mind sparks to life as she continues to stare at him - like her brain is filled with fireworks. It scratches around in her skull, prompting her to pull absentmindedly at one of her ears.

"Sneaking around is very unbecoming of a young queen, wouldn't you say?"

Jemima does not answer. She feels as though all the words have been stolen from her mouth.

"Where is your mother?" He is angry, but he seasons it well with formal niceties. Jemima can taste it plain as day.

Jemima feels how somecat's grip trembles on her upper arm when they slide up behind her. She knows this cat - has seen the dull glow of his aura many a time. Alonzo had looked as though all the blood had drained from his body when he recognized who had been brought before the Mystery Cat - when he too quickly affirmed that he would take her back to Demeter before Macavity had even asked. There is ice beneath the other cat's lashes as he glances up at the tom, interruption catalogued away for later, and Jemima catches the spark of irritation before he straightens.

"Sleep well, daughter," the strange cat calls after the pair, and Jemima feels the connection sever, leaving behind a faint buzz in her ears.

"What the hell were you doing?" Alonzo whispers when they were significantly out of earshot. He does not pause in his haste down the hall; he does not bother to censor himself.

Jemima ignores him. "Who was that?"

"That's the boss," Alonzo's voice drops. "That's Macavity."

Macavity. She knew that name. "Why did he call me daugh-ter?"

Alonzo's aura seems to go even paler, but he still does not pause. If anything, he walks faster. "Ask your ma," he mutters. "And don't let me catch you sneaking out again, you hear me?"

She is told, after a scolding, her mother's voice laced tight with hysteria, who Macavity is. The connection she felt, scratchy and unsettling, was all at once fully understood. That was her father.

Her father was Macavity.

In the days after, she can't stop thinking about what she saw. She wants to ask questions, but none of the adults around her want to answer them. She remembers that segmented face, the black sunken eyes, the wild red mane. She peers at her own reflection in the basement puddles and cracked boudoir mirrors and recognizes his face staring back at her. She blinks and her eyes turn black. Then back to blue.

Though she is too young to realize just yet, it's around this time she understands why Demeter and Bombalurina sometimes look at her the way they do. Why Demeter cries quietly in the middle of the night when she thinks no one can hear her. They see his face looking back at them.

And this is where Jemima's anxieties start to blossom.

The second time she is put face to face with her father, Macavity specifically requests her mother's presence and asks for Jemima by name. Demeter pushes Jemima behind her slightly when Macavity motions her closer, but a wave of his paw later and Demeter's grip on her shoulder slackens, and her arm is shoved firmly at her side.

Jemima trembles with her mother's defiance, but fully shakes with her fear. She wants to echo the sobbing she hears in Demeter's chest.

Macavity lifts her chin, twisting her head this way and that as he asks her questions. They are simple questions - about her dreams, about her nightmares, about the colours she sees sparking around other cats' ears. All the while, she feels that same sparking buzz in her teeth. She doesn't want to answer, but she does; it pours from her in buckets and she can't help it.

As Macavity listens quietly to her latest nightmare about a shadowed cat with white eyes and his jaw hung loose, too many teeth in his mouth, Jemima catches a flash of...something in Macavity's eyes. But it is gone as quickly as it surfaces.

When she finishes, he seems satisfied, and sends her off to play while he "Speaks with her mother privately."

Jemima hesitates beside her mother, not wanting to leave her alone, but scampers off to find Jerrie and Teazer when Demeter nods tightly in her direction.

She doesn't want to be alone either. Not with the buzzing in her head.

Every interaction afterwards, Jemima senses more and more of these threads of....something in Macavity that loop round and round but don't quite connect. It is not goodness like she senses in other cats. At least, she doesn't think it is. It is not particularly fear either - though it has shades of it. Honestly, she doesn't know what it is. And this, somewhat, prevents her from ever feeling fully afraid of him, even when she absolutely knows she should be.

It's incredibly confusing for her. He's never hurt her, never threatened her directly, but she knows how he treats other cats - how he treats other kittens. She's heard him yelling, seen glimpses of what he's done (more than she should have ever seen in her short lifetime). She sees as his flesh crawls and his eyes change. She sees the scars on her mother's face, the bruise around Alonzo's muzzle, the way Bombalurina favours her left leg. How Mungojerrie avoids looking most cats in the eye and Electra claws uselessly at her ringing ears.

She knows, deep in her heart, it's all his doing. This place was all his doing.

Jemima grows to hate his attention turned on her, on her friends, on her family - feels like an ant under a magnifying glass.

And yet...

She collects these loops and holds onto them. They are not frequent, but they exist. She cannot think of Macavity as her father - it feels wrong to do so when she already has her mind set otherwise - but her empathy is so high, that she can't help thinking of him as a cat like any other. A cat who has done terrible things and made horrible mistakes - but a cat nonetheless.

She cannot ever forgive him for what he's done, and will never forgive him, but sympathy swells in her breast all the same. The belief that every cat, no matter where they came from and what they had done, perhaps still has shades of the *capability* of goodness somewhere in them, nags at her every time she runs into him from then on out.

When they escape to the Junkyard, a few months later, Jemima is given a clearer picture of who Macavity is - but more importantly, who Macavity *was*. She notices how cats' attitudes change when they figure out who her father is, hears how their voices dip with pity. Munkustrap tells her about his brother, Old Deuteronomy shares a memory through her temple, and Bombalurina gets comfortable enough to speak of him when they were young, like Jemima and her friends were.

And a whole new fear blossoms in Jemima - if Macavity wasn't always bad, wasn't always a monster...if he had *become one* with time, did that mean that one day, she would be a monster too? 

If all cats had the capability to be good deep down, did that mean that all cats had the capability to be bad just as much?

[readyouagain]

The Hating Game: Epilogue

It’s a red dress kind of day. It’s Friday afternoon. I’m sitting in my office at Bexley & Gamin and I can see my reflection in my floor-to-ceiling window. Outwardly I look remarkably corporate, but on the inside I’m forever an immature little weirdo. I cross my legs and begin to play the Mirror Game with myself. The Staring Game. Even a whispered How You Doing Game. It’s just not the same without my opponent. It’s been a shitty day. I spent the afternoon fighting a valiant battle against Mr. Bexley over electronic distribution royalties, and then I found out that there’s a bug in our latest e-library app.   I’m so tired I can feel my own skeleton. I need to be lying on my perfect couch but it’s not going to happen tonight. It’s so quiet I can hear the fluorescent tubes buzzing. The elevator bings. Whoever’s just arrived on the tenth floor needs to be kept out of my office so I can get the hell out of here. Scott, our executive officer, is a pretty good gatekeeper. I can hear muffled conversation, and then there’s a rap on the door. There’s only one person in the world who can put so much short, sharp love into a single knock. “Come in,” I say. The door swings open and there he is.

Joshua Templeman is dressed in black. Everything, from his underwear to his cufflinks to his tie, is ink-black midnight. He enjoys the drama of it on a Friday, sliding into people’s office doorways like Dracula just as they’re loosening their ties and thinking about their weekends. All he needs is some devil horns and a pitchfork. I feel vaguely bad for whoever he’s been terrorizing today. He leans against the doorjamb and we’re playing the Staring Game for a minute until his dark navy eyes spark. “Shortcake,” he breathes like he can’t believe I’m real. “I missed you so bad.” My. Heart. Bursts. I stand up and go to him. He picks me up off the ground, kissing my jaw, my cheekbones, his fingers stroking my nape. He turns me in a circle and I cross my ankles prettily. The tiredness falls out through my feet and dissolves. He’s here, and I’m lit up. It’s the kind of light that never fades. People in the opposite building might be able to see us. Motorists at the traffic lights below can probably make out the silhouette of a ridiculously large man twirling around a ridiculously small woman. During one slow revolution I catch sight of Helen and Mr. Bexley, standing near Scott’s desk. They’re all looking at us like we’re the most gorgeously silly couple in the world. It’s accurate. We are. Helen glances at Mr. Bexley with a wry expression, and I swear I see a little moment of connection between them. I’ve been suspecting it more and more. I know love-hate when I see it. I speak into Josh’s neck. “I hate not being able to stare at your pretty face all day.” I breathe in his addictive, perfect scent. Deciduous trees in the sun. Evergreen trees in the snow. A pencil sharpened to a razor point, pressing into fresh white paper. “It’s against HR policy to stare at your corporate rival all day.” I hug him harder. “Whose HR policy?” “One of them, I’m sure. I’ll look it up.” Josh sets me down and kisses my cheek again. Once he starts, he can’t stop. In the elevator I’ll wipe off my Flamethrower lipstick so I can get my proper hello kiss. If I’m lucky he’ll hit the emergency stop button, although we’ve been pissing off the security guards with that. I treat myself to a nice squeeze of his torso before I remember the door is ajar. “Who have you made cry today, Overlord?” At the Sanderson Christmas party, I overheard his nickname and had to laugh. He earned it. “Nobody,” he tells me with adorable sincerity and a blink. “Not a single person. I’m a changed man.” I’m trying to teach him how to be more approachable. More understanding. More like me. At the first Sanderson Christmas party, I stood alone and awkward for an excruciating two minutes, during which time I was the subject of speculation. I felt like the word how was said a lot. I could hear their drunk, high-pitched whispers. She looks normal. Sweet. So small! How does she cope with that…monster?  We should rescue her. Maybe he keeps her chained in this basement. I waved like a dork to show that I was not shackled and was there on my own free will. They shrank back, then fell totally silent as their chief financial officer, aka the Overlord, approached me with a glass of wine. His eyes were soft with tenderness and my heart stopped beating until he restarted it with a kiss. The Overlord snuggled me into his side, fitting us together just right. Hard and soft. Darkness and light. Good cop, bad cop. I registered the jaws dropping. He’s smiling! He’s the Overlord, he calls them his Underlings, but I can see the little signs that he’s getting better at this. At a lot of things, actually. “Did you remember your dad’s present?” “Yep. We’d better get going if we’re going to make the party. Mindy and Patrick have been texting me obsessively. Don’t be late, don’t be late.” He’s sarcastic but I know how much this means to him. I give his arm a stroke and a squeeze. “We won’t be late.” I can’t lie on the couch tonight because I’m needed in Port Worth. I’m Josh’s little lucky charm. When I’m there, he and his dad don’t fight. Luckily for them both, I’m always there. “Got quite a collection by now, Shortcake,” Josh says, looking at the rows of Matchbox cars on the shelf behind me. He forgets our hurry and takes a red Volkswagen beetle out of his pocket, sliding it into one of the gaps. “My toys have given me a reputation for being quirky and approachable.” “No one would guess this strawberry-sweet exterior hides a complete hard-ass.” “I learned from the master. I’m known for being firm but fair.” “Mmm. Tell me more.” He loves sitting at my desk to look at everything I surround myself with, and he lowers himself down into my chair like it’s a milkmaid stool. His eyes are lit with a creepy kind of devotion as he looks at the castle of books against the wall, and the Smurf hiding in one of the battlements. He finds my bottle of perfume and smells the lid as he strokes my computer mouse. “That’s where you’ve been,” he says in a scolding tone to the cardigan slung on the back of my chair. He folds it into a bread-slice square on his knee. I’ve turned him into such a total freak. I’m an even bigger freak when I visit his office. I once touched the speed dial button on his phone marked SHORTCAKE just to make my cell phone ring. Then I was jealous of myself. That’s a sensation I feel a lot. How am I living this life? How did I win so much? Like he can read my mind, Josh picks up the framed photograph on my desk. It’s us together in the strawberry fields. Our eyes are summer bright, and I am sitting between his legs leaning back against him. Around us is a carpet of green, studded with red. The picture is a tiny bit crooked because my dad was a little overexcited by the secret he was keeping. Five minutes after this photo was taken, Josh said, “Hey, it’s an old Smurf in the dirt.” He knew nothing would make me drop to the ground faster. I scratched frantically through the leaves. Where? Where? What I found in the vines at Sky Diamonds Strawberries was a Tiffany blue box. Then I realized he was kneeling down, too. Lucy blue. True-love blue. Even as he squeaked the box open and began to speak, I was dimly aware of cheering from the house. My parents were spying from the office window. After I brushed the squashed berries from the back of his T-shirt, I learned that Josh had become an expert in diamonds. Carat, cut, color, clarity. He shivered with delight as he described staring at imperfections through a loupe. I could just imagine his laser eyes crumbling stones to ash. The way he tells it, he searched through a pile of worthless pebbles until he found something worthy of my tiny finger. I tell him it’s too big, too much, too perfect. He just laughs and says, I know, then makes me forget whether we’re still talking about a diamond. I think my cheeks are going pink right now. When he looks me in the eye, he smirks. He’s definitely a mind reader. “We need a vacation,” he decides, his finger straightening the terracotta tile I use as a coaster. I got that tile in Tuscany. “I’m taking you back. Cheese and wine and sleeping in the sun.” His eyes follow the line of my dress down my body. “Red dresses and champagne and carbohydrates.” A pause, and there’s a little vulnerability in his expression now. “I didn’t go crazy and dream it all, did I?” “I have frequently assured you that I’m real.” I take his hand in mine and use it to pinch my forearm. “I was there for every incredible second. I always will be. Now, quit talking about carbohydrates. You’re turning me on.” He laughs. “We’d better get out of here.” He grabs my coat and walks out to chat with Helen and Mr. Bexley. I log off and lock away the stack of slush pile manuscripts I’ve been reading as my own little treat. I lock my door and just watch his reflection bounce around off the slick, glossy surfaces that make up level ten. The only thing better than having one Josh is having a hundred. I look at the plaque on my office door as I lock it. It says, Chief Operating Officer, and usually it has me grinning like a dork. But right now, I’m smiling over something else. The gold ring on Joshua Templeman’s left hand has set off a shower of firework sparkles in this huge black prism. Each time I focus on one particular reflection, it fractures and doubles. It’s a kaleidoscope of his love around me now. There are a hundred gold rings. A thousand. It’s still not enough. I want to spin around while they circle me like fireflies. That’s how he makes me feel, every day of ours lives. It’s wonderful. It’s primal. It’s nothing short of a miracle. My name is Lucy Templeman.

[matrixaffiliate]

Portent

New Story! FFN and AO3 

Albus Potter is on the verge of a breakthrough, so naturally, his brothers show up.

NOT CURSED CHILD COMPLAINT but nothing I write is so no surprise there. For @thisismegz who wanted Potter brothers fun! Luv you girl! <3 One-shot. Rated T.

Portent

Albus Potter felt passionate about creating a world where wizards actually co-existed with the Muggle world rather than stick out like it's freaking Halloween. Since his father had more or less ended the war, it was far more common to see Muggle-borns maintaining their Muggle heritage through clothing and writing with pens rather than ink quills and things like that, but Al had dreams of making technology co-exist too.

His family had cell phones and computers, but at home they only worked in a special room in their house set up to keep the magic away. And Al's dad had put up a lot of amazing wards to make sure it would also be safe from the crazies who thought only Harry Potter cared about stopping toxic Pureblood thinking. Al practically lived in that room. Except when he was experimenting - that he did in his bedroom. He broke two cell phones experimenting to try and make them work with magic simply in the air around them before his mum had put her foot down. After that, Al started buying old used phones, tablets, and computers to experiment with and find a solution. But nothing seemed to work.

After graduating from Hogwarts, he badgered Aunt Hermione into helping him get into a Muggle university, and now that he was three years into studying how Muggles made everything work, he was really starting to feel like he was close to figuring out how to make Muggle technology work within the magical world. Al was all set up for an experiment that would put his newest idea to the test.

So naturally, his brothers showed up.

"What are you doing here?" Al glared at the two as they walked through his fireplace. "I have Muggles over from class all the time!"

"Teddy's an Auror," Jamie shrugged, "he can Obliviate them and no one but the three of us would know."

"Don't stress Al," Teddy grinned as he shoved Jamie's shoulder. "Ginny mentioned that you were usually free about now."

Leave it to his mum.

Al rolled his eyes. He'd created this time for experimenting and thus couldn't have his Muggle friends around. So when his mum had asked for a time she could drop by, he told her Thursday mornings were always open to her. Apparently, he had needed to emphasize that last part, because he certainly hadn't meant his brothers could drop in unannounced.

"What do you need? I'm in the middle of something." Al looked over at his bedroom where he kept everything. That way if any of his mates didn't buy his story of sleeping till noon on Thursday mornings he'd be able to close off his experiments – and his wand.

Jamie's eyes got huge though and he smirked in a way Al hadn't seen very often since Al's first year at Hogwarts. Al braced, that year had nearly derailed them; Teddy's letters were the only reason they sorted themselves out.

"What's her name, Al?"

Al blinked, then groaned as comprehension set in.

"Jamie, let me introduce you to my latest obsession," Al opened the door to his bedroom and winked at Teddy.

It was Jamie's turn to blink.

"He's experimenting, James," Teddy said with a teasing condescension.

"Thank you, Edward," Jamie put on a posh accent and bowed deeply to Teddy before flipping him off.

Merlin, Al had missed these two!

"If you want you can see what I'm doing." Al tried to keep the hope out of his voice.

Jamie and Teddy had usually pointed out the roadblocks of this path to him. They never really got it, both accepting the status quo of living in the magical world and finding parts of the Muggle world to visit from time to time. Or like the Potter's and most of the Weasley's, having a "Muggle room," as Aunt Hermione had dubbed it. But Al wanted more. Al didn't want to accept the status quo, he wanted to take away excuses for Muggle-borns losing their heritage, and the wizarding world not marrying Muggles very often. Al wanted to change their world, and he was starting with WiFi.

To his great surprise, Jamie marched right into his bedroom and sat on Al's unmade bed when an encouraging smile. "Show me what you got."

Teddy joined Jamie and Al waited for the cynical or pessimistic remark but none came. So he sat at his desk and picked up his wand. His testing was simply to keep the magic and the WiFi in the same airspace without the magic frying the router. His stacks of routers were piling up in his extendable charmed duffle bag under his bed though because magic was just so ridiculously erratic.

But today, Al had an idea.

WiFi traveled in nice predictable waves, whereas magic practically crackled everywhere it was harnessed. Al was trying to see if he could somehow control where around him the magic was pulled from, avoiding the imaginary waves he was drawing in his head. Yes, WiFi was traveling everywhere, but Al wanted to try pulling magic from the quantum level, in between these wonderful waves that connected him to everyone in the Muggle world.

Al's wand firmly in his hand, he took a deep breath and visualized what he was hoping to accomplish. He'd never tried to pull magic from specific tiny points in between the mesh of WiFi the router was broadcasting around him, but he was determined to try.

Al could feel the sweat starting to form on his brow as he watched the blinking LEDs on the router. If they went out, he knew he'd failed. His wand shook, both from the grip he had on it and from the immensely slow trickle of magic the seeped to it. It felt like time had stopped as Al kept pulling magic from pinpoints around him, but each tiny molecule of magic that he pulled kept the LEDs blinking, so he kept going. Finally, after an eternity and just barely enough magic, Al braced himself for the part that would tell him if he was on to something. He let a puff of red smoke escape his wand.

And the LEDs kept blinking.

Al stared a moment before jumping up out of his chair, knocking it to the floor, and whooping like Gryffindor just won the Quidditch cup. It wasn't until he turned around that he remembered he had an audience.

"It worked!" Al shouted at his brothers, who nodded but looked baffled. Al didn't care, he didn't want to have to explain what he had just done, right now he wanted to bask in the glow of that router's blinking LED lights.

"I vote we celebrate whatever just happened with breakfast," Teddy chuckled as Al grinned down at the still functioning router.

"Sounds amazing," Jamie agreed, jumping to his feet. "Great work, mate, you can explain what happened while we eat."

"My treat, lads," Al slid his wand into it's hidden holster, "I know just the spot."

It wasn't hard for Al to choose where to celebrate, because it was where he always went Thursdays after he was done experimenting. It was a small place, more like a hole in the wall that only served breakfast and lunch, with a long counter and only five small tables. It wasn't much but Al loved the food, and he rather enjoyed the company of the server that ran the counter on Thursdays as well.

"Al," Ellie grinned when he walked in, "I'll be right with you."

She hoisted her tray over her shoulder and went to the furthest table from the door.

Al ignored the look Jamie and Teddy shared and took his usual seat at the counter, gesturing for them to follow suit.

Ellie returned, mahogany hair not falling from her pinned back bun like it normally did when he showed up closer to lunch.

"Today was good," she leaned over the counter, her Canadian accent making him grin all the more.

"Yeah, really good," Al let himself enjoy their easiness for a moment longer before throwing in his two wild cards.

"Teddy, Jamie, this is Ellie. Ellie, these are my older brothers."

Ellie smiled, "Nice to meet you both, I would shake your hands but my boss would make me wash them and then lecture me about wasting time chatting up customers."

"Looks like you've already chatted up Al here," Jamie grinned.

Ellie's smile was easy as she winked at Al. "He's kind of cute, don't you think?"

"Where are you from, if you don't mind my asking?" Teddy asked. His eyes were calculating in that way Al had come to associate with his dad. Something about being an Auror was sure to be the cause.

"St. John's, Canada," she said it with a note of pride that made Al want to start her in on her stories about growing up on Newfoundland island.

But Teddy was playing Auror.

"What brings you here?"

"University," she shrugged. "I wanted to see the world but I only speak English and some French so I decided to start small."

Teddy grinned, "I should try and practice my French with you."

"No you shouldn't," Al shook his head, "you should order so Ellie can keep her job. You have a wife for your French practice."

Jamie made a cat call and Teddy shoved him off his stool while Al rolled his eyes before winking at Ellie.

"The usual, right?" She pulled out her pad and pen and began writing. "What about you two?"

Teddy and Jamie quickly looked up at the board above the counter where the menu was scrawled in scratchy handwriting before ordering. She winked at Al again before moving to turn in their orders to the cook.

"So," Jamie looked at Al, his eyebrows hidden in the signature messy Potter hair as he raised them in question.

Al grinned but said nothing.

"Ellie seems nice," Teddy tried.

Al nodded and sipped his water. This was fun. The last time he'd been into a girl and his brothers found out was Hogwarts and Jamie and Teddy had been able to ruffle his feathers with a wrong look. But that was nearly four years ago, and Al was far more confident now than he had been then.

It didn't hurt he was still riding the adrenaline rush from his successful experiment. The possibilities were too exciting to let his brothers dampen his mood.

"Okay kid brother," Jamie poked his arm, reaching around Teddy to do so, "spill about Ellie!"

"She's the Thursday waitress," Al shrugged.

"And," Jamie prompted, his eyebrows finally coming down from their hiding spot under his hair. Al chuckled. Allie complained about Jamie's ability to hide his eyebrows behind his hair, something about it making him irresistible - that had signaled the point where Al had stopped listening.

"And she and I talk on Thursdays when I come here after my experimenting." Al shrugged again, loving the way Jamie and Teddy shared a long look.

"Okay," Teddy drew the word out longer than normal before switching gears, "why don't you tell us what happened in your experiment this morning?"

Al went into an excited explanation about what had happened and the implications of it. Jamie and Teddy were even engaged while he rambled, asking questions and pushing for deeper understanding about different parts of the big picture Al saw every time he closed his eyes.

When Ellie came with their food he jumped as she set the plates down.

"I want to hear all about it," she smiled at him and leaned across the counter, "but they're short a cook back there so I'm trying to help out. Can I swing by after classes tonight?"

Al reached out and tucked a stay stand of hair behind her ear. "I'd love that."

Ellie's cheeks went crimson and Al resisted the urge to kiss her. She bit her lip before smiling at his brothers.

"Enjoy," and she winked at Al and then went to check on the other patrons.

"She knows where you live?" Teddy asked in the same way Al assumed undercover Aurors talked to each other.

"She does," he shrugged and cut into his omelet.

"Has she stopped by often?" Jamie's voice was low but he was watching Ellie as he asked.

"Frequently," Al nodded, trying to keep the grin on his face from going goofy.

In stark contrast, Teddy's face went serious. "Al, have you thought through this. I'm sure she's great, but do you think she'll be alright with you being a wizard? That's a lot for someone to handle, are you really thinking about how this could affect her?"

Al stared at his brother like he'd grown two heads, "Dad needs to demote you."

"Al, I'm not saying I disapprove, I'm just saying you need to think about her. She deserves that."

Al wanted to throw his plate at him, "You honestly don't see it?"

"Do you love her? Because if you even think that you do then you need to say something to her." Teddy's voice was as hard as his stare.

Al was flabbergasted, "Jamie, tell me you see it?"

Jamie sighed but shook his head. "Teddy's right, Al. If you really feel for her, you have to put all your cards on the table."

Al couldn't believe it. He knew his brothers were sometimes oblivious, but this was unbelievable.

"Teddy, look at her hair," Al gestured towards where Ellie stood at the other end of the counter, "and tell me you see it."

Teddy's eyes hardened and he didn't look at Ellie. "I'll get Ginny involved, Al."

Al shook his head and huffed, "Sort of hard to have that discussion you're talking about when it isn't relevant." He stabbed his omelet hard. They were so dumb sometimes!

"Of course it's relevant, Al," Jamie defended, but Al held up his hand.

"Stop, give me a second," he stood and walked over to where Ellie was to whisper in her ear. She laughed and placed a kiss on his cheek. Then she followed him back to where his brothers sat.

"I want you both to know you'll never live this down," she grinned before pulling the stick that had been holding her bun in place out and placing it on the counter.

Al grinned, Ellie's wand was so beautifully crafted it was art. It was also why she got away with wearing it as a hair accessory.

Teddy and Jamie started at it before looking up to stare at her.

"Now I've got work to do," Ellie picked her wand back up and twisted it back into her hair, "but please know that I'm totally calling home about this." She kissed Al full on the mouth before heading back into the kitchen.

"Satisfied?" Al asked with a smug smile as he dug into his omelet. It suddenly tasted so much better than it had a moment ago.

Teddy and Jamie exchanged a long look.

"Dad really should demote you," Jamie finally shrugged before cursing as Teddy pushed him off the stool again.

Al chuckled. His brothers showing up had been unexpected, but he was definitely glad they had now. Ellie would laugh her tail off about this with him after their classes, and he couldn't wait to hear that sound.

[carmenlire]

Tell Me that It’s Okay Part IV

Read Part I

Read Part II

Read Part III

Read on ao3

(TW for mention of suicidal ideation and low-key references to depression)

It’s a warm June night and Alec is out on patrol. He’s ditched his leather jacket and is wearing a simple pair of black jeans, scuffed combat boots, and a black sleeveless t-shirt that shows off the runes on his arms.

He’s by himself because Jace and Izzy decided to hit the hot new club downtown and felt no compunction about leaving him to his own devices. Walking through the relatively empty streets of New York, Alec feels the restlessness that’s been gnawing on his bones for the last few months become that much sharper. He doesn’t know why he feels like this, but it’s like he’s waiting with bated breath for something to happen. It doesn’t make sense, but then when does anything in his life follow his carefully laid-out script?

By all rights, Alec should feel good, optimistic, like he has the rest of his life before him. He graduated with top honors from the Academy a couple of months ago and his mission success rate is unparalleled in North America. His whole life is ahead of him and it looks bright and golden and full of possibilities.

On the surface.

But the truth is, Alec is angry. There’s a bitterness that’s growing in his chest with every passing day and sometimes he thinks he’ll choke on it. The feeling swells and sometimes-- when Izzy talks about her latest conquest or Jace rambles on about his date for the weekend-- it claws at his insides and it’s everything he can do to keep the tidal wave of vitriol back.

For all that Alec has three siblings, two living parents, and lives in an institute full of people, he’s alone. Most days, he feels nothing. He wakes up, goes on mission after mission, eats food that leaves no taste, and goes to bed, feeling blank and empty and so damn tired.

Occasionally, he ducks out of the institute and goes to this small coffee shop a few blocks away. The atmosphere is dark and cozy and sometimes those few hours, drinking coffee that’s more sugar than espresso, and reading his latest novel, provide the only sense of warmth he gets that week.

His parents don’t help. When his father deigns to show up at the Institute, he’s distant and cold. He keeps the veneer of a loving father, but his eyes are far away-- never with his family.

Maryse, though. There are times Alec thinks his mother must have loved him once. But, he can’t quite recall when that would have been. It’s been so long since she’s touched him in anything but anger, too long since she spoke to him with any warmth in her voice. He doesn’t know when things changed. Or if that’s always been their relationship. Every time he meets her eyes, all he sees is the staggering weight of disapproval, disappointment, and bitterness. It’s suffocating.

It feels like there’s crushing pressure from all sides and Alec doesn’t know how much longer he can hold out before he collapses from it all. He works his damnedest, but it’s not enough. He’s not enough. His whole life is ahead of him and it’s nothing but a gaping chasm. Honestly, it seems a bit shit. Alec knows what’s expected of him. He has a few more years going on missions and perfecting his field work dossier. By his mid twenties, he’ll be married-- to a woman, absolutely no doubt about it-- and popping out kids as fast he can. God, just the thought of it makes him want to vomit, fills him with a desperation and hopelessness that grates on his nerves.

But he’s a Lightwood. He might not be straight but he damned well knows his responsibility. It doesn’t matter what he wants. It doesn’t matter who he is. What matters is family and reputation and his mission in life is to be perfect. A perfect toy soldier for a Clave he doesn’t even believe in most of the time, a perfect son for parents who despise him, a perfect parabatai and brother for those he loves.

There’s no room left for anything else. There is no Perfect Boyfriend Alec Lightwood. His dreams from so long ago are all but forgotten-- there’s no man coming to save him from himself, from a society that makes him feel other and wrong and invisible. Alec Lightwood saves himself. The problem is that he doesn’t care to.

For the Lightwood heir apparent, he’s frighteningly listless. Alec’s felt empty for as long as he can remember. He lives for Jace, Izzy, and Max. If it was just himself, he would’ve been dead long ago. He has to protect them, be the shoulder they lean on, the ear they use for their petty arguments and issues.

The truth, the shameful thoughts that never see the light of day but still somehow coat his very soul in darkness and despair, is that sometimes Alec wants to give up. To vanish. He’ll be in the middle of a fight and a thought sneaks in.

Just be a little slower lifting your Seraph blade.

Don’t move out of the way.

Alec would never, never, do anything-- he’s the perfect soldier no matter the circumstances; people are counting on him-- but he can’t help his insidious thoughts. There’s nothing for him in this life. What, he’s just supposed to fight demons for a few years, fight the Clave for a few decades after that, and marry a woman he cannot love and probably won’t like just because he’s a goddamn shadowhunter? It’s the biggest load of bullshit Alec’s ever heard but he’s trapped and sees no way out.

Alec’s walking down the street when a sudden need tugs at him. He thinks he needs a drink. He’s not much of a drinker-- he has to keep a level head at all times, has to keep Izzy and Jace safe while they indulge-- but now that it’s popped into his head, it’s all he can think about. Alec needsto forget, if just for a single night. Forget that he’s a perpetual disappointment, forget that’s he’s wrong, forget that his life isn’t his own and that that’s the most depressing shit he’s heard in his eighteen years.

He ducks into a corner shop that sells liquor and goes straight to the back. He picks up a bottle of whiskey at random and heads to the front of the store, the heavy steps of his combat boots bringing the cashier’s head up from the magazine she was reading. She tosses it out of the way and picks up the bottle he just placed down on the counter to scan.

Alec’s going for his wallet when the soft music playing overhead reaches him. He freezes as he takes in the lyrics.

Awake, wide eyed I'm screaming at me Trying to keep faith and picture his face Staring up at me

Stunned, Alec instead whips out his phone and Shazam’s the song. Heaven by Troye Sivan pops up and Alec feels like he’s going to pass out as he continues to listen to the song.

The cashier sees his phone screen and smiles at him. “That song’s pretty popular right now. You haven’t heard it yet?”

Alec croaks out, “no,” and focuses everything he has on the song.

She straightens a little before laying her elbows on the counter and leaning towards him. “His name is Troye Sivan and he’s an openly gay singer from Australia. You should check out his album Blue Neighbourhood. It’s amazing and he doesn’t shy away from using male pronouns!”

In a daze, Alec pays for the bottle of whiskey and walks out of the shop, slowing his steps until he’s sure he’s heard the rest of the song. With a brown paper bag in his hand, Alec quickly makes his way to the Institute. It’s around four in the morning and he walks in without alerting anyone.

Making his way to the roof, Alec sits on the ledge and immediately takes out his phone, opens Spotify, and downloads Sivan’s album. He puts it on repeat and then places the phone next to him. He takes the bottle out of the bag and twists open the top, taking a large swallow in defiance. He almost throws up from the heat, but soon enough warmth is the only thing he feels.

That’s how the next few hours go. Alec listens closely to the lyrics and his chest feels like it’s been cracked open, everything that he’s been bottling up is leaking all over the damn place and if Alec wasn’t numb from the whiskey, he’d feel the tears running down his face.

This album is everything. Alec feels at once cathartic and his most despairing. It is so gratifying to hear a man singing about being gay and loving another man. Shadowhunters aren’t as oblivious to mundane culture as they’d like everyone to think. Mostly, they just play it up because it makes them feel weirdly superior to everyone else if they don’t let on that they know what the NFL or Netflix are.

Alec’s favorite TV show is One Tree Hill and he has a guilty pleasure of listening to One Direction during his runs. Izzy is obsessed with Project Runway and went to a Kesha concert last weekend. Most of their generation has Snapchat and Jace even has a Vine account. They know what’s up.

Alec knows that mundanes can be just as hateful and intolerant as shadowhunters about sexuality. But, he also knows they celebrate Pride. The very concept is foreign to him.

Who the hell would want to celebrate being different? What’s the joy in that? Show him, where’s the fucking pride in feeling like your chest is being ripped apart every waking moment as resentment builds and scalds your throat?

And Alec is a coward. He knows he’ll take his shameful secret to the grave with him. There is no “coming out” in his future. The only thing that would be waiting for him if he was fool enough to do that is disownment, certain ostracization, and possible deruning. He’s not a fucking idiot.

He is more than a little drunk, though, and when he sways dangerously in his spot, he knows it’s time to back the fuck up from the ledge. He falls onto the roof in a slow topple that would probably embarrass him if he were sober and rests his back against the wall. Taking another swig from the bottle, he’s surprised to see it’s over halfway empty. With a careless shrug, he places it a little too hard on the ground and looks up at the stars.

For long minutes it’s just him, the galaxy, and Troye Sivan. His head is spinning and he feels an unbearable sorrow in his chest. He wants that. He wants a relationship, a man to come home to, a feeling like his world isn’t on the constant brink of imploding.

He’d almost had it. His mind is hazy, but it latches onto an image of forest green eyes and a soft smile.

Gray, his mind supplies. Grayson.

But, he’d ruined it, like he ruins everything he touches. He hasn’t talked to him since that night. Senior year had been awkward as hell and Alec will always thank the angels that, by some miracle, they hadn’t shared any classes together. He doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to think of Gray and not feel the well of grief, regret, and bitterness.

He’s drunk and forgives himself for thinking about the one person he’d promised himself he’d never acknowledge again. Alec sighs and brings his hands up to try and scrub the drunkenness off his face. His last thought before he passes out is that he thinks Gray might always be his biggest what-if.

Alec wakes up late the next morning with a raging hangover, no memory from last night after the corner store, and a heaviness in chest that feels just a bit more oppressive than usual.

He drags himself up to standing and immediately doubles over and throws up onto the ground. With a grimace, he picks up his phone that’s died sometime in the morning, leaves the bottle on the edge, and makes his way as carefully as he can down to his room. He takes a shower that burns a layer of skin off but wakes him up, throws up twice more, and all but falls into bed.

While he feels a bit like death, mostly he is still pervaded by emptiness. He knows that he’ll sleep until dark, eat yet another meal that might as well be dirt for all he cares, and will go on yet another mission. There’s a thousand days just like this waiting for him and Alec thinks it’s a little too exhausting to think about today.

Alec wonders if this is really all that’s left for him, if his life will really have so little meaning. He thinks, it’s not worth it, before sleep drags him down.

[mymusicalitylove]

Dive

In my feels. Trying to be productive and direct them in a positive way.

The other night I feel like I broke because the latest disappointment (that I created for myself), came to the surface. I took a hot shower, cried and told myself to let it all go. Hardest I have cried in a long time because I replayed a lot of scenarios about this endless loop I seem to be stuck in: I give up on this notion called ‘love’, discard it and begin to focus elsewhere.. then along comes another unsuspecting fool that says all the right things to get me twitterpated and caught up in the fantasies my brain creates. I get sucked in and think, ok, maybe this will go somewhere.. just to BAM! Slam my face into a wall of unending disappointment. Wash, rinse, repeat. It feels as though this scene has been on replay about eleventeen times over these last few years, and all I can say is: How. Fucking. Stupid (Who is the REAL fool? Ya, that’s me).

I went to bed after my therapeutic shower and slept ok, but kept waking up. I finally decided to get up and be productive, and had Ed Sheeran’s “Dive” stuck in my head. Hadn’t heard it in a while so I’m not sure where it came from, but it stayed with me the entire morning. 

My entries on this thing almost always relate to music and how the lyrics relate to my life. I’ve saved some drafts with songs I’ve wanted to write about later. When I realized I wasn’t going back to sleep, I decided to write; I checked my drafts and whoa.. “Dive” was already on there.. I don’t even remember saving it. 

(Despite there being a few too many typos for my taste in this post above, I feel it, Rising Woman!)

September 2019 is the most notable time I can remember starting the self-destructive cycle. My boss left at work and I decided I needed to do something to change my life up. I put all my energy into planning my amazing sabbatical in Italy. Everything was set up; all the wheels were in motion for me to see Europe, do me selfishly, and not worry about shit! In my mind I put together plans of sightseeing, concerts, volunteering, gymming, wandering, and getting lost in the country I fell in love with a year prior.

In October on a night out with friends, I met an EMT at a bar. He worked his bullshit game, and did it well because he was intriguing. He made me feel good over a two hour convo that honestly felt like a first date, and convinced me to give him the digits (which I don’t freely give to strangers). Too bad the man never called. Womp, womp.

After a taste of those vibes I craved that “feeling” again. I tried a dating app again for a couple months. In a comical turn of events, said dating app matched me with this same EMT! This presented me with the opportunity to call his ass out, and incidentally feel validated as to why it actually was better he never called. Talked to a few other guys on the app, but really can only report on a couple stupid funny anecdotes of just how sad it is that guys don’t know how to talk to women anymore. At least this time I wasn’t taking it seriously and only did it for shits and giggles. Decided okay, just keep focusing on plans for Italy, stacking that paper, and looking forward to the new year (*point and laugh at the idiot who had no idea what 2020 had in store!*). 

In January a boy (with a girlfriend) who I’d had innocent flirtation vibes with for a while tells me he’s now single. I had already placed him in the “not gonna happen” folder, and his confession obviously began a different wave of chemistry and banter for months. We had a conversation about the reality of where I am/what I’m ready for, and where he’s at/what he’s not ready for. Oh, and in the midst of all this, Covid hits and I have to make the heartbreaking decision to cancel Italy and deal with the feels of defeat that followed. And let’s also add all the sadness of being stuck with only me, myself and my thoughts in quarantine.

One last convo in April with “previously not gonna happen” sealed the deal of this endless string of flirtation not going anywhere and back in that folder he went. I then decided to give my number to this other guy who had shown interest a while back (but I hadn’t paid him any mind cuz I was stuck on folder guy). New dude didn’t really engage, so I disregarded him again, and worked on rearranging my place, organizing, decorating, spring cleaning and purging. Fast forward to now, it’s June and new dude comes back to work, asks to hang out, we have a great first “date” lasting three hours, and now here I am less than two weeks later wondering what happened. New dude: MIA / Me: WTF?

I truly do not understand why this cycle continues. Each time I feel like I get closer to something real, just to be lead into feeling like a fucking moron. I can’t stand it anymore, and it honestly makes me want to go back to being guarded and jaded, but I know that’s not the right way to find anyone. So I open up and allow some level of vulnerability, even though I’m scared af cuz of how hard I fell five years ago with the man I thought I was going to marry.

This is gonna hurt, but I blame myself first

'Cause I ignored the truth

Drunk off that love, my head up

There's no forgetting you

You've awoken me, but you're choking me

I was so obsessed

It was a matter of time

But you are the fire, I'm gasoline

Gave you all of me, and now honestly, I got nothing left

'Cause I loved you dangerously

More than the air that I breathe

Knew we would crash at the speed that we were going

Didn't care if the explosion ruined me

Baby, I loved you dangerously

I learned a lot from that short but impactful relationship. It was the love of my life and I went into it with complete abandon. I loved him dangerously. Things felt “right” and escalated quickly, which lead to our demise because we did not explore all the things before going full force into a relationship. We mutually thought this was “it” and talked about the future we would have. It completely broke me to end things, and upon rebuilding the pieces of me, I promised myself I would never rush into things like that again. 

I know that I do it to myself, but I guess I don’t know how else to do it. If I’m closed off and guarded, I’m not welcoming anything in; if I’m open and vulnerable, I start to dream in fantasyland with expectations just to be let down and end up inevitably disappointed. I clearly don’t know how to find the balance that works and it has become maddening beyond words. 

I need to find that balance, and it would be a lot easier to find in non-Covid times where I could have something else to focus my precious energy on, rather than wanting to find “my person”.

Maybe I came on too strong

Maybe I waited too long

Maybe I played my cards wrong

Oh, just a little bit wrong

Baby I apologize for it

I could fall or I could fly here in your aeroplane

And I could live, I could die

Hanging on the words you say

And I've been known to give my all

And jumping in harder than ten thousand rocks on the lake

So don't call me baby unless you mean it

Don't tell me you need me if you don't believe it

So let me know the truth

Before I dive right into you

And I've been known to give my all

And lie awake, everyday don't know how much I can take

I could fall, or I could fly here in your aeroplane

And I could live, I could die

Hanging on the words you say

And I've been known to give my all

Sitting back, looking at every mess that I made

This new dude made me really feel this. I tend to fall, and fall hard because I am so ready to give my heart to someone. But I need to put on the brakes and slow my damn roll. 

I can’t keep getting my hopes up. That is ultimately my problem. I tell myself to not have expectations and I do well to begin with, then have an amazing connection and am fed (what is obviously) bullshit and fall for it like a moron. I have grown thicker skin this time around, so at least there’s that.. but hopefully this has been my last lesson. 

I have found a new diversion for my focus and just put in my first offer for a new home! This will be my new passion project and will take up my thoughts and energies for a while, so as freaked tfo as I am, I am equally excited for this new venture. If it’s meant to be, it will be, and if it’s not, my new little home is out there somewhere not ready for me yet. 

06/19/2020 - 11:51 PM

[aristocratlegacy]

Chapter Sixty-Seven: Bar Crawl

Ok first chapter with Gen eight as adults! I’m gonna do one more of them in the city living together because that was so fun to do- sorta reminded me of the old days when you could send all of the spares and stuff together to uni in ts2 legacies. That was fun. I’m also going to do the first heir poll for the first time in like 100 years, even though I have a personally clear favorite, I’m still gonna leave it up to change. Enjoy!

9 PM

Pierce: “Oh my god, guys, you’re never going to believe what a shitty day I had at wo-”

Pierce: “What the fuck?”

Chloe: “Hey there Hawkeye! You’re late!”

Pierce: “I was at work, Chloe. What the hell is going on here?”

Chloe: “What does it look like?”

Pierce: “It looks like a party.”

Chloe: “Duh. Want me to get you a drink?”

Pierce: “No, I wasn’t invited so it might be weird.”

Chloe: “Invited? What? Oh- ok. Bye I guess…..he’s so weird. Oh my god Izzy hey cutie!”

?: “Hey, Vivien, how’s showbiz?”

Vivien: “Do I know you? Oh! You must know me from my commercial work as woman with boil! Or perhaps dead stipper number five?. I was so proud of the work I did on that those, I think it’ll really help a lot of people understand the workings of the world.”

Stranger: “Oh, uh, no- I just...live next door. We’ve met like, five times.”

Vivien: “Really? Huh. I don’t remember any of that.”

Stranger: “Oh. I should check out that commercial you’re talking about, I’d love to see it.”

Vivien: “I’m sure you would, it’s genre-transcending really.”

Stranger: “I’m Walter Trimble.”

Vivien: “Ok. Bye Walker!”

Walter: “Oh...bye.”

Chloe: “OMG, I want you to meet my brother, he’s an art critic too so I think you’d really hit it off!”

Izzy: “Oh is your brother Pierce Aristocrat? He definitely didn’t get a few of Nancy Landgraab’s latest pieces.”

Chloe: “Well then you’ll get to pick his brain! Where is he….”

Chloe: “Hey, Vivi? Have you seen Pierce?”

Vivien: “No? Darling, I just got recognized for the boil ad! That guy Wallace over there quoted the entire ad from memory. He’s basically obsessed with me I’m his favorite actress.”

Chloe: “Cute! I’m gonna look for Pierce”

Pierce: “Hey!”

Vivien: “I just heard him, though.”

Pierce: “This isn’t like a spare closet or something, you can’t just make out in here you absolute hooligans!”

Chloe: “Pierce! There you are! Why are you, like, hiding in a cave when we’re having a party?”

Pierce: “Are we having a party? You didn’t even tell me about it, I wasn’t even invited! Who does that?”

Chloe: “I’m still not seeing a problem. Come out and meet my friend Izzy!”

Pierce: “No! I don’t want to go to your stupid party, Chloe.”

Chloe: “Ugh, I hate how you get like this! I’m sorry I wanted to have fun and have people over in our awesome apartment that we live in together.”

Pierce: “Then I guess I’m sorry for being pissed that I wasn’t invited to a party taking place in my own house.”

Chloe: “Great! So now that we’ve all apologized, come out and talk to people!”

Pierce: “......I’m just gonna talk to the cat the whole time.”

Chloe: “Oooooh, I don’t know about that, Walter Trimble from next door has had a monopoly on Teacup all night. He’s really awkward, poor thing.”

Pierce: “Yeah, to be awkward is obviously such a curse. How dare he not feel comfortable at a party you probably invited him to from his mailbox.”

Chloe: “Oh my gooood, Hawkeye! You’re obviously mad-”

Pierce: “I’m not mad.”

Chloe: “Yes you are!”

Pierce: “No I’m not.”

Chloe: “Are.”

Pierce: “Fine! I’m mad!”

Chloe: “UGH! What do you want me to do? Kick everybody out and go somewhere else?”

Pierce: “I mean, it would be a start.”

Chloe: “You’re ridiculous, I’m not gonna do that.”

Pierce: “Then why did you offer?!”

Vivien: “OH MY GOD!.”

Vivien: “Guys! I just got the part in Alpha Centuri!!! I’m gonna be legit famous now! Some of my castmates are gonna be at Orchid tonight, so I’m gonna bounce.

Partygoer: “Seriously?”

Pierce” “...”

Chloe: “Oh shut up. Fine.”

Chloe: “Hey everybody! We’re going to the club! We’re all drunk so I’m gonna call us a party bus!”

Party: “Woooo!”

Chloe: “Yayyy!”

Chloe: “Wait, are you coming?”

Pierce: “Yeah. Why?”

Chloe: “I just can’t with you sometimes, you know that, Pierce?”

Pierce: “Oh I know.”

10 PM

Chloe: “Is this it?”

Vivien: “Yup!”

Vivien: “Hi there! I was told I would be on the list for the Alpha Centuri cast meetup? Vivien Aristocrat.”

Bouncer: “Uhhhh...yeah, you’re on the list, but your accompanying...guests aren’t.”

Vivien: “Oh I have a plus one.”

Bouncer: “Right. A plus one.”

Vivien: “I don’t understand.”

Bouncer: “You can’t bring all these people in here.”

Vivien: “But I have a plus one.”

Bouncer: “So….pick on of your friends and go inside.

Vivien: “Well, I tried, sorry nerds, I’m gonna go party with the beautiful people- toodles!”

Chloe: “Seriously Vivi?”

Pierce: “SO lame.”

Chloe: “I’ll try to sweettalk her.”

Chloe: “Hey,”

Bouncer: “Not on the list.”

Chloe: “But...I’m level ten charisma. Look into my beautiful eyes and tell me I can’t go wherever I want.”

Bouncer: “Ok. You can go in.”

Chloe: “Without my friends?”

Pierce: “Chloe, I know what you’re thinking, and you can’t abandon me with all of the people from a party that you threw.”

Bouncer: “Look, you guys gotta move away from the door.”

Chloe: “Unbelievable. I’m gonna kill Vivi.”

Walter: “Um...h-hi. I could try.”

Chloe: “I’m sorry, do I know you?”

Walter: “Yes. I’m Walter Trimble. I live next door. We’ve met many times. A package of yours was delivered to me last week?”

Chloe: “Sweetie, if I can’t get us in then I don’t think you could.”

Pierce: “Wow, he’s really gonna give it a go good for him.”

Chloe: “Is he waving us over there?”

Pierce: “Did...did Walter Trimble do something?”

Chloe: “Omg Walter you did it! How did you pull that off? Do you know this guy or something?”

Bouncer: “No, we just met….he just does some business with the club.”

Pierce: “What kind of business?”

Walter: “Secret business! Doesn’t matter let’s go inside!”

Pierce: “Hey- thanks for ditching us out there!”

Vivien: “You are so welcome. It’s nice to get that appreciation from you.”

Pierce: “No, I was being sarcastic, I’m still mad at you.”

Vivien: “Well how am I supposed to know that. How’d you get in anyway? Find a back door?”

Pierce: “No, it was super weird, that guy Walter from next door said something to the bouncer and he just….let us all inside.”

Vivien: “Seriously? That guy? What’d he say?”

Pierce: “He wouldn’t tell us. It was totally sketch.”

Vivien: “Which one is he again?”

Pierce: “Checked shirt, three o’clock.”

Vivien: “Oh there’s gotta be something fishy going on there, right?”

Pierce: “That’s what I thought. Move, I wanna get a drink.”

Vivien: “Walter, Walter, Walter...what are you hiding?”

*Crash*

Stranger: “Oh my god, I totally just spilled my drink all over you I’m so sorry!”

Vivien: “How DARE y-...hi.”

Stranger: “Did you just turn a furious comeback into a meet-cute?”

Vivien: “Trying to.”

Stranger: “I’m Veronica- you look familiar.”

Vivien: “So do you- do I know you from somewhere?”

Veronica: “I must just have...one of those faces.”

Vivien: “No, I’d remember seeing a girl as beautiful as you before.”

Veronica: “You’re...not so bad yourself.”

Pierce: “Wow...so much for detective Vivien I guess. Where’s Chloe?”

Pierce: “Is that Dustin Broke? How can that girl talk her way in with anybody?”

Even Stranger Stranger: “I have come to understand that talking to oneself isn’t acceptable in public places.”

Pierce: “Aah! Jesus- you snuck up on me. Sorry, I do that sometimes. Am I bothering you?”

Stranger Stranger: “Negative. Where I come from everybody converses aloud to themselves. It feels like home.”

Pierce: “And where exactly is that?”

Stranger Stranger: “I come from the source where energy and all life grows. I am not from any one place I am but from…..the moment.”

Pierce: “Wow. That’s really deep. So are you an artist or something?”

Stranger Stranger: “Artist….yes. I am an eccentric artist from this world.”

Pierce: “I’m an artist too...or I’m trying to be. I’m a critic right now, and I’m really good at it, but I do want to do my own art. I just feel like I haven’t had my big break of inspiration yet, though.”

Stranger Stranger: “Have you looked under your bed?”

Pierce: “For my inspiration?”

Stranger Stranger: “Or perhaps, in your zero-g chamber?”

Pierce: “Huh...that’s….not bad actually. Like underwater photography with the hair all crazy.”

Pierce: “I’m Pierce, by the way.”

Stranger Stranger: “ I have been deemed TIFFANOR.”

Pierce: “Oh, that’s pretty cool. Is that like an artist name or were your parents...modern too?”

“And a special guest tonight for a surprise performance by DJ Fliphop!!! Make some noise1”

Chloe: “Omg I love Fliphop . Not crazy about the name though. Wanna dance, Dustin?”

Dustin Broke: “Hell yeah, this dude’s my bro. Never seen him with the helmet off, though.”

Chloe: “I know! I heard that he’s, like, super secretive. Nobody knows his true identity.”

Dustin: “I read a theory it was Rudy Quick in there.” Chloe: “Oh man, I’d love to see my sister’s face if that were true.”

Vivien: “I feel so in sync with you, Veronica.”

Veronica: “I know- it’s like I’ve known you for my entire life.” Tiffanor: “I love these sounds! It sounds like my dreams!”

Pierce: “You dream in Technopop?”

DJ Fliphop : “Thank you everybody! Peace!”

Tiffanor: “The moon is almost in the third easternly quadrant. There is a gathering of other….Artists. On the beach. To display our projects.”

Pierce: “So like a gallery opening?”

Tiffanor: “.....yes.”

Pierce: “That sounds dope- can we bring the party?”

Tiffanor: “Affirmative.”

Chloe: “So where exactly are we going, Pierce?”

Pierce: “Like a cool underground gallery party at a beach for artists.”

Chloe: “Artists? Gallery? Is this gonna be some wine and cheese crap because we need to keep the momentum goin!”

Pierce: “Look at that girl. Are you telling me that she’s not taking us somewhere cool at 1 am?”

Chloe: “...Fine. She does look pretty cool. I’ll give you an hour, that’ll give me time to scope out somewhere seriously dope.”

Pierce: “Deal”

MIDNIGHT

Chloe: “This seems really weird, Hawkeye.”

Pierce: “Don’t be a baby, you’re making us look uncultured!”

Artist: “Welcome to the Coalition of Ali-st….Aliartists. It’s a new modernist movement. You can call me Kourtnacht, this is Huxlous, to their left is Garyl, then there’s Isablank, and you know our famous Tiffanor!”

Garyl: “Go, enjoy the gallery, look deeply into the eyes of any statues you see, and the ceremony shall commence in a half of one our.”

Walter: “C...ceremony?”

Chloe: “That’s a fair question. What kind of ceremony?”

Pierce: “Oh my god, Chloe, you can’t just ask him that.” Chloe: “Why? We’re invited.”

Pierce: “I’m sorry about her.”

Tiffanor: “It’s, how you say, ‘all good, dawg’”

Chloe: “I don’t get it.”

Dustin: “I dunno, this one is kinda cool. Like...if you look into it’s eyes…”

Dustin: “......................”

Chloe: “Dustin?”

Dustin: “...............”

Chloe: “DUSTIN!”

Dustin: “What? Where…...what year is it?”

Chloe: “Ugh, this party sucks so bad. Is there a bar- I need to keep the momentum of this party going or everybody’s gonna leave.”

Veronica: “I love all your black and white clothes.”

Vivien: “I love yours too. My brother and I have always thought black and white was really classy.”

Veronica: “Totally. I just feel like you totally get me, y’know?”

Vivien: “I feel that way too. Ok- on three, what’s your favorite movie?”

Veronica: “1...2..- Devil Wears Prada!”

Vivien: “The ad I did for Boil Gone!”

Veronica: “Well...I guess that’s not the same, but we have a lot else in common!”

Vivien: “Before I did the boil ad, Devil Wears Prada was my favorite movie. Miranda Priestly is my role model.”

Veronica: “Awww!”

Pierce: “All this art is crazy cool. Thanks for inviting us.”

Tiffanor: “Yes. We love the arts.”

Pierce: “Pfft- check that out, my sister is making out with somebody that looks just like her.”

Tiffanor: “I onced kissed my clone under the full moon against a crystal sky.”

Pierce: “Oh so is that like a common fantasy for people then? Huh- I definitely don’t think I’d want to hang out with myself for too long.”

Huxlous: “Pierce! Kourtnacht and I were having a disagreement about her piece, what do you think it means?”

Pierce: “Hmmm….well...The stark slab suggests the hopelessness of humanity, while the perfect circle is the opening oppritunity for good. The fact that it’s hollow on the inside indicates that it’s not as hard to break through as first impressions may imply. Overall, a very hopeful peice.”

Kourtnacht: “Yes!  That is precicely what I was saying!” Huxlous: “You are a very intelectual man, Pierce. We may consider inducting you into our organization.”

Pierce: “Dope, would I be able to display stuff at the gallery and stuff?”

Chloe: “Woo! Party!”

Partygoer: “Hey, this was really fun- but I think we’re gonna take off.”

Chloe: “Oh no! Why?”

Partygoer: “This is just getting a little weird and it’s really late, let me know if you’re doing something else this weekend though!”

Chloe: “Okay...bye cutie!”

Chloe: “Where. Is. Pierce.”

Chloe: “Pierce! People are starting to leave, we gotta rally and get somewhere livelier.”

Alien: “Let the Ceremony begin!”

Pierce: “Let’s just stay for a few more minutes to watch this and then we can take off.”

Chloe: “This is weird.”

Pierce: “No it’s just like...performance art.”

Vivien: “What the hell are we supposed to be watching?”

Chloe: “Uh-uh. I draw the line at chanting. C’mon squad- let’s boogie!”

1 AM

Pierce: “So, Chlo- where are we going exactly?”

Vivien: “Who cares where we go when I’m lost in your eyes.”

Pierce: “You know I wasn’t talking to you, please don’t use me as a setup for your pickup lines.”

Veronica: “I love it when you talk about how beautiful I am. I love your face.”

Vivien: “I love your face.”

Chloe: “She knows right? I mean, she has to know.”

Pierce: “Would she still be into it if she knew?”

*giggles from Veronica and Vivien*

Chloe: “It seems pretty on brand for Vivien to fall in love with herself.”

Pierce: “She’s gotta know.”

Chloe: “She doesn’t know, does she?”

Pierce: “No. She definitely doesn’t know. We have to get out in front of this one.”

Chloe: “Where are we gonna go though.”

Partygoer: “Chloe- we’re gonna head out, it’s getting late.”

Chloe: “Are you sure?”

Chloe: “Dustin- you’re famous, and people are dropping like flies. Where should we go.”

Dustin: “Well...I had an idea. We’ve got some star power in this group, so I was thinking, combined, we’re like one really famous person. She’s an actress, you’ve got half the town wearing sunhats in October, he’s probably reviewed it by now. We could probably get into Studio PBP.”

Chloe: “You think so?”

Dustin: “I do.”

Chloe: “They won’t let us in dressed like this, though.”

Pierce: “I don’t want to go to a thrift shop, Chloe. We don’t have five hours for me to DIY anything we could find into something acceptable.”

Chloe: “Hawkeye, this is an uptown Del Solo thrift shop. It’s just gonna be a bunch of shit from last season and this is an emergency!”

Vivien: “It’s a nice place. Chloe and I once got us into a DJ R!DDL3B01 concert when we were in highschool wearing shit we got here.”

Pierce: “What? When did that happen? Where was I?”

Vivien: “Oh you were just being really moody that day and we thought you wouldn’t want to go.”

Chloe: “Don’’t think about that too hard, let’s go!”

Pierce: “Fine.”

Ohhhh yeaaaaaah

Chloe: “We look so dope, you guys. They’re totally gonna let us in.”

Bouncer: “No.”

Chloe: “Oh come ON! Look at us! We look incredible!”

Vivien: “But we’re famous!”

Bouncer: “Not really.”

Dustin: “I’m famous.”

Bouncer: “Sorta.”

Chloe: “Listen here, buddy- I am not about to let this party die when I’m still ready to have fun. You will let us into this fancy fucking bar or so help me, god.”

Bouncer: “Fine! Fine! Go- jesus…”

Pierce: “I cannot believe that that worked.”

Chloe: “Damn.”

Pierce: “We grew up in a really nice house, and this is the fanciest shit I’ve ever seen in my life.”

Chloe: “Right?”

Dustin: “Sorta quiet, though.”

Chloe: “Right?!”

Judith Ward: “Shh!”

Chloe: “Judith Ward just shushed me. I love that, so rebellious.”

Vivien: “I have a plan.”

Veronica: “What is it, baby?”

Vivien: “I’m gonna sing a song. On the stage, and make everybody listen and they’ll be like holy shit who’s that- oh, it’s the actress that played a dead stripper on CSI and Bones.”

Veronica: “That...doesn’t seem like a great idea.”

Vivien: “I know! It’ll be amazing. Your support means everything to me.”

Veronica: “I’m not...supporting you. You’re gonna get us kicked out.”

Vivien: “Wait...what?”

Chloe: “Yikes. Maybe it’ll run it’s course before we have to handle it.”

Pierce: “While it’s going down though…”

Chloe: “Let’s go mingle.”

Pierce: “She’s not with us!”

Judith Ward: “Shhh!”

Pierce: “Oh my god Judith Ward shushed me, what have I become?”

Chloe: “So badass.”

Veronica: “You always do this, Vivien. Everything always has to be about you.’

Vivien: “About me? You’re like, obsessed with yourself!”

Veronica: “Not as obsessed as you are with yourself!”

Vivien: “I don’t want to do this in public, darling, not again. Can’t we have just one good night out? Like we used to?”

Veronica: “Maybe we could if you weren’t always putting on theatrics and stunts!”

Vivien: “My stunts are the only thing keeping this relationship from going stale!”

Judith Ward: “SHUSH!”

Veronica: “Look what you’ve done. Your theatrics have gotten us shushed by Judith Ward, how could you do this to me. We should take a break.”

Vivien: “You want to take a break? Fine? I’m gonna go dance.”

?: “Oh my god- Dustin Broke? How’ve you been, man?”

Dustin: “Dirk Dreamer, my man! I’m great- how the hell are you?”

Dirk: “It’s been pretty dope man, I can’t complain. Why don’t you and your girl come to the VIP room, and we can catch  up.”

Chloe: “We’d love to!”

Dirk: “Pleasantview, man, what a throwback! How’s Brandy?”

Dustin: “She’s dope! I mean...we still live together, but now I own the house. And a lot bigger now.”

Chloe: *yawns*

Dustin: “You all right, babe?”

Chloe: “Yeah it’s just...a little late. This place is a little less fun that I had hoped. Not that this VIP room isn’t amazing I just wanted to keep the momentum goin’ and this is just a little bit…”

Dustin: “Upscale and stuffy?”

Chloe: “Exactly! Like, I made eye contact with Fake Ryan Gosling and Opal’s ghost, which is sick, but other than that...it’s just a guy playing piano and some very expensive drinks. Expensive even for me.

Dirk: “You’ve got a point about the piano, you’d think they could at least get a whole band in here.”

*Voice* “Good evening everyone, I’ll be singing a song tonight.”

Dusitn: “Did...did they hire a band?”

Chloe: “Oh, no.”

Vivien: “aaaAAANNNDDDD IIIIIIIIIEEEIIIIIIIIII wwwIIIILLLLLL ALWAAAAYYYS LOVE YOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOU”

Dirk: “Yikes, I...take back what I said.”

Chloe: “Oh my god”

Dirk: “Do you know that person?”

Vivien: “I love you so much, Ronnie, please take me back.”

Pierce: “Oh my god, Vivien, stop. You only like her because she looks just like you stop embarrassing us.”

Vivien: “What? She doesn’t look just like m……”

Vivien: “Shit.”

Security: “MA”AM, STEP AWAY FROM THE MICROPHONE. THEY HOST THE OSCARS WITH THAT THING.”

Judith Ward: “SHUT UP!.”

Vivien: “Shh!”

Pierce: “Shh!”

Chloe: “Shh!!”

Partygoer: “Great party, Chloe! G’nite!”

Chloe: “Good night! Thanks for coming!”

Pierce: “So is this when we finally head home?”

Vivien: “Yeah...I just want to curl up somewhere and cry over the mistakes I’ve made that led up to this moment.”

vChloe: “We….can stay out a little longer.”

Pierce: “Yeah, Vivi, we can keep this going for a bit more, let’s see who else is in.”

Dustin: “I’m in.”

Dirk: “I know a great dive we can head to, if you don’t mind me crashing your party.”

Pierce: “What? Chloe? When did you make friends with Dirk Dreamer?”

Chloe: “At the party. Let’s head over there, then.”

Walter: “Can I still come?”

Vivien: “You’re still here? I could’ve sworn you left after the house party.”

Pierce: “No, he got us into the first club, remember?”

Vivien: “I don’t. How’d you manage that?”

Walter: “Oh- I- uh”

Chloe: “Don’t bug him, Vivi. Of course your welcome to come, Radar.”

Walter: “Radar?”

Chloe: “Alright! Hawkeye, Vivi, Dustin, Dirk, Radar, let’s head out.”

3 AM

Pierce: “Okokokok, never have I ever, been pushed in a swimming pool by a Real Housewife.”

Chloe:  “Call me out in front of everybody, Hawkeye. All right, I’ll drink. ”

Chloe: “Never have I never….”

Vivien: “Queue the half hour wait while Chloe thinks of something that she hasn’t done.”

Chloe: “What is this? The roast of Chloe Aristocrat?”

Dirk: “Be proud- you’ve got a very fulfilling life.”

Chloe: “So true. Did I tell you guys about the time that Mortimer Goth took me to Sulani on his yacht?”

Pierce: “I still don’t think that happened.”

Dustin: “I’ve never even seen a yacht before.”

Dirk: “Huh...me neither.”

Walter: “A what?”

Chloe: “I love this song! Let’s dance!”

Walter: “Don’t feel like dancing?”

Vivien: “What? Oh...not really.”

Walter: “Love is oft short lived, but that does not make it less worthy.”

Vivien: “I like that. Especially the fancy wording.”

Walter: “It’s not a quote or anything, but people take it more seriously if they think it is.”

Vivien: “That is so clever, here I was just appreciating the dramatic effect.”

Vivien: “Why aren’t you dancing?”

Walter: “I’m just not very good at it.”

Vivien: “Even if that’s true, it’s not like there’s any paparazzi in a place like this.”

Walter: “Oh I wasn’t worried about...cameras or anything, I just don’t like looking silly.”

Vivien: “Oh yeah. I forgot what it was like before I was famous, like, for normal people.”

Walter: “Yeah...I’m totally not famous.”

Vivien: “That was kind of a weird way to say that.”

Chloe: “Vivi! This is our song! Everybody, clear the floor, Gen Eight is gonna show everybody how former child stars do it!”

Pierce: “Chloe, don’t do this.”

Chloe: “Oh, it’s already done.”

Vivien: “Chloe, no, not in front of all these people.”

Walter: “C’mon, it’s not like there’s paparazzi.”

“Woo!”

Dustin: “That was kind of amazing, you guys. I’m gonna have to hire you guys as backup dancers.”

Pierce: “Don’t put that bait in front of Vivien, she’ll take it and refuse to let go.”

Chloe: “He’s right. She’s like a pirrahna.”

Vivien: “Is anybody else starving?”

Pierce: “Yeeesss, I was waiting for somebody to say something first.”

Walter: “Me too.”

Bartender: “Alright, guys, it’s closing time!”

Chloe: “*Yawn* I know we said just one more spot, but is anybody up for breakfast?”

Dustin: “I’m in.”

Pierce: “There’s some food trucks by our place.”

Dustin: “Dope, because I left my shoes at your place. I’m wearing Pierce’s.”

Pierce: “What? Why?”

Dustin: “I stepped in a puddle on the way here ...and they were really nice.”

5 AM

Pierce: “You wouldn’t think shish kebabs would go down as well at five in the morning.”

Chloe: “But they really do.”

Vivien: “This is the best anything I’ve ever tasted. I haven’t eaten since breakfast.”

Walter: “Didn’t I see you at this food truck at lunch time?”

Vivien: “I woke up at noon. That was breakfast for me.”

Walter: “Heh...ok.”

Dustin: “Gotta admit, Chloe- this was a pretty fun party.”

Pierce: “Yeah, it really was.”

Vivien: “Best night since we moved to San Myushu, most def.”

Dirk: “To Chloe!”

Pierce: “Raise your kebabs!”

Chloe: “Thank you, thank you, I would like to thank my parents, for teaching me never to give up.”

Pierce: “I’m sure they’ll be proud of this application of their teachings.”

Chloe: “This is without a doubt my greatest accomplishment.”

THE NEXT DAY

*snoooore*

Pierce: “Ahh!”

Pierce: “Tiffanor? What the hell is…”

THE DAY AFTER THAT

Vivien: “Is that a note? Dirk Dreamer took me to Sulani for a vacation on the beach :) toodles cuties!

Vivien: “Bye Pierce, I’m going to my first day of my new job!”

Pierce: “Get some medicine at the store on your way back I feel awful.”

Walter: “Hey Vivien, good morning.”

Vivien: “Morning Walter.”

Director: “Vivien! You’re here, this is so exciting, I’d like to introduce you to your stunt double.”

Vivien: “I have a stunt double?! This is amazing!”

Director: “I’d like you to meet Veronica!”

Vivien: “Well sh-”

------

thanks for reading! Leave a comment if you like it, and make sure to vote in the heir poll!

[avengerofyourheart]

Mini Matchmaker Pt 4 (Steve Holiday Mini Series)

Characters: reader x Steve, OC Justice Rogers, Bucky, Sharon, Laura, Natasha (mentioned). 

Summary: Steve and reader’s relationship progresses, a trip to the hospital bringing them closer as a certain love-related holiday approaches. 

Warnings: mentions of injury, hospitals, and sexual situations. 

Word Count: 4.3k (I know but there was so much to say! Hope you don’t mind. :D )

A/N: Here we are, at part 4! Yes, it was intended for Valentine’s Day, but life happens. :) I’ve really enjoyed writing this unexpected series and could possibly revisit these characters in the future, but for now this is the end. I hope you like it! Please let me know! 

Tags are at the bottom 

<<<Part Three  Part Four (end)  Bonus Scene>>>

Mini Matchmaker Series Masterlist

___________________________________________________________

January passed in the blink of an eye. After the New year, you finally heard from some of the employers you had sent your CV to back in December. Some jobs you wanted more than others, but you accepted each interview offer, met with them, and weighed your options. By the end of the first week, you stumbled upon an incredible opportunity that, fingers crossed, would become a huge step toward your dream job. After two days of nail biting and clutching your phone obsessively, you got the call and it was a yes.

To your surprise and humility, you had snagged one of the most sought-after positions at the Brazilian Consulate in New York City. It was an entry-level job working to process Visas and Passport requests at first, but you quickly became indispensable and as January came to a close, you were the assistant to the Consulate General of Brazil. It was new and exciting and overwhelming at times, but you were learning so much and incredibly grateful to have your foot in the door.

This new job did have its drawbacks. Much of your time was spent at work and afterwards you were exhausted, not giving you much of a social life. Steve was on your mind often and you spoke with him or texted almost daily. Getting together in person was harder, but you both made it work. He came into the city when he could, but mostly you would spend time at his place with Justice until bedtime and then it was just the two of you.

Your mutual attraction was evident, but given the unique circumstances, you both thought it best to take things slow. During the week there were short coffee dates and movie nights, on occasion resulting in you falling asleep in his arms. As the credits rolled, he would gently nudge you awake and press a kiss to your lips, urging you to call a cab to take you back to the city for work in the morning. There was always that lingering moment at the door where you could sense that he wanted you to stay, but it just wasn’t time yet.

Steve sometimes worked Saturdays and often Justice had T-ball or dance lessons. For a 4-year-old, she had a pretty full schedule. Sundays, however, became your favorite days. Determined not to make you do all the work, Steve was adamant to travel to the city once a week to see you. Sundays for the three of you contained trips to museums and new brunch spots, walks through the park as you and Steve strolled hand in hand, and easy conversation while keeping an eye on a spunky little girl you had come to adore.  

In early February, you were in a meeting at work when a buzz of your phone showed Steve’s handsome, bearded face on the screen. Puzzled, you excused yourself and stepped out into the hall, swiping to answer. Steve never called you while you were working and vice versa, text being your preferred form of communication throughout the day. This must be important, you thought with a twinge in your stomach.

“Steve? Is everything okay?” you asked after accepting the call.

“Y/N!! Thank heavens you answered! I’m so sorry to interrupt you at work but I didn’t know who else to call. Laura is out of town with the kids and Clint is swamped, Bucky’s with me 2 hours away, Wanda is out sick and I just, I don’t know…”

“Steve. STEVE,” you interrupted his hurried speech and spoke calmly. “Take a deep breath. Tell me what’s happening.”

You heard him inhale and exhale, following your advice before speaking. “Justice fell off the playground at her preschool and it’s possible that her arm is broken. One of the teachers is taking her to the emergency room, but they want me to meet them there and I’m 2 hours away checking out a possible job site with Bucky. I know it’s a lot to ask and I’m sorry to put you in this position, but Justice knows you and I trust you with her so is there anyway….” you heard a quiver in his voice.

“Yes,” you agreed without a thought. “I’ll be there. Which hospital?”

Steve sighed in relief, “You’re amazing. Thank you. We’re on our way back so I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

He told you where to go and you hung up, calling for a cab immediately before telling your boss you had an emergency. He knew you were a diligent employee and took you at your word, giving you the rest of the day off. 20 minutes later, you entered the emergency room and asked to see Justice.

“Y/N!!” a small voice called out to you upon entering the room. “You’re here!”

Seeing her small frame sitting on the cushioned table, crinkly paper underneath her, about broke your heart. She was clutching her left arm and her shining eyes showed she had been crying, but a smile sneaked out upon seeing you. You rushed forward, gently pulling her into a hug.

“You’re Y/N (Y/L/N)?” the teacher asked. “Steve said you would be coming. “

“Yes, hi. I’m a, uh…friend of the family.”

“Well, I’m glad you could come on short notice. I’m Mrs. Carter, Justice’s teacher. Or Sharon to adults, I guess,” the pretty blonde let out a laugh, offering her hand.

You accepted it, “It’s nice to meet you, Sharon.”

“Likewise. Well, now that you’re here, I should probably get back to the school.” She then turned to Justice, bending down to her level, “You’re being very brave, Justice. Y/N is here now and your dad is on his way. You’ll be just fine, okay?”

She sniffled, “Okay, Ms. Sharon. Bye.”

“Bye, Justice. Thank you, Y/N,” Sharon addressed you, offering a wave as she left.

Taking a deep breath, you took a seat next to Justice on the table. “How are you feeling, sweetie? How did you hurt your arm?”

Wiping her nose on her sleeve, she let her injured arm rest on her lap. “I just wanted to climb high like the big kids. But then I got scared and I fell.”

Reaching for a tissue, you pressed it against her runny nose and wiped her tears. “It was an accident,” you assured her. “And Ms. Sharon is right, you’ll be okay. It’ll hurt for a while but the doctors will take care of you. And you can squeeze my hand as hard as you want if it hurts too bad, okay?”

“I’m happy you’re here, Y/N,” she said quietly, leaning into your side. You pressed her head against you, brushing hair off her face.

A nurse stepped in then to escort Justice to have X-rays taken. As promised, you were right there with her holding her hand, singing songs and telling stories to distract her. There was more waiting time after that but when the doctor finally came in, he confirmed that there was indeed a hairline fracture in her small arm. She would need a cast for a few weeks, but luckily kids heal quickly. The nurse returned with materials to prepare the cast when you saw a man rush toward the Nurse’s Desk. Hurrying into the hallway, you called to him.

“Steve!”

He turned your way, closing the space between you in seconds. He gathered you in a quick hug and pressed a kiss to your lips. “Where is she, is she okay?”

“Right in there. There is a small fracture and she’ll need a cast for a few weeks, but she’ll be fine. You have a very brave little girl. I’ve been with her every minute,” you assured him, placing a hand on his cheek.

He let out the breath you were sure he’d been holding the entire drive, blinking away tears threatening to spill. “Thank you. For being here for her. And for me. Seriously, I don’t know what I would do without you.”

You smiled, pressing another kiss to his lips and leading him into the exam room.

“Daddy!” Justice cried out, grasping for her father with her good hand. He rushed toward her, gently gathering her in his arms while being aware that the nurse was holding her injured arm.

“Hi, princess! I heard you’ve been very brave, are you okay? I’m sorry I was so far away,” he said, pressing a kiss to her hair.

“It’s okay, daddy. It wasn’t scary with Y/N with me. I’m sorry I climbed too high,” she confessed in a small voice.

“Don’t worry about that. We’ll talk about it later. I love you, Jimmer.”

“Love you, too, Daddy.”

You smiled and stepped into the hall then, giving them space. That’s where you saw Bucky approaching, worry upon his face.

“Y/N! Hey, I had to park the truck. How is she?”

You gave him the latest information, watching relief replace the worry as he ran fingers through his hair.

“Whew. I’m glad she’s alright. You’re a lifesaver, Y/N. I know Steve is grateful. He was a mess the whole drive, making me crazy, but he felt better knowing you were with her.”

You shrugged, “It was no problem, really. I’m just glad I was close. So, uh…I hear things are going well with Natasha.” You gave him a sly smile, nudging his arm with yours.

“Oh, yeah,” he grinned, “Nat’s great. Thank you for the introduction.”

“You’re welcome. I’ve already told her I get to name your first child,” you teased, laughing at the pink dusting on his cheeks.

He was saved then by a child’s voice calling his name, “Uncle Bucky!!”

The brunet entered the room, taking Steve’s place by her side so he joined you in the hallway once again.

Steve took your hand and gave it a squeeze. “I’m sorry to take you away from work. Were they upset? Do you need to get back now?”

“No, it’s fine,” you assured him. “My boss was very understanding. Although, I uh…I told a small lie to impress the strong need for me to leave. I, um…I told him it was a family emergency.” You avoided Steve’s gaze, unsure of his reaction.

Releasing your hand, the blond pulled you into an embrace, using one finger under your chin to make you face him. “Well, that doesn’t sound like a lie to me,” he clarified.

You smiled, feeling heat rise in your face. “Um…I’m actually off the rest of the day, so I’m here as long as you want me to be.”

“Good,” he declared. “Because I want you here as long as possible.”

He brushed a kiss against your lips and then pulled you into a long hug, burying his face in your neck. His beard brushing your skin gave you chills.  Rubbing a hand against his back, you could feel the tension he had been holding begin to release under your touch. Turns out, being in each other arms is exactly what you both needed right now.

________

Almost 2 weeks later on Sunday, you found yourself on a bench in Central Park next to Steve with Justice running around the playground, red and blue cast upon her tiny arm. Her father kept a watchful eye and she was a lot more careful, but needed a reminder once in a while other than the constant evidence of a broken arm.

“Maybe not the swings, peanut. You can’t hold on well enough,” Steve advised his daughter, shaking his head at her tenacity. “That girl’s gonna be the death of me.”

You laughed, “She definitely keeps life interesting.”

“So, uh,” Steve began, his gloved hand playing with yours, “I hear there’s a holiday coming up soon. Around the 14th maybe?”

“Is that so?” you responding, playing coy. You wondered when he would bring up Valentine’s Day.

He grinned, “That’s the rumor. So I was thinking, I could get dinner reservations in the city and I thought maybe, um…” He was fidgeting, almost uncomfortable.

You waited for him to finish, capturing his hands in yours.  

“Maybe I could, uh…get a hotel room. You know, in case I get a little wine drunk and don’t want to drive back home. I mean, Justice has been dying to have a sleepover with her cousins and Laura said Clint will be working late that night, so…”

You took way too much pleasure out of him trying to remain casual and dance around the actual question he had in mind. Finally, you put him out of his misery, placing a kiss on his lips, then deepening it by grasping the back of his neck, pulling him forward . Finally breaking apart, you could see silvery clouds of breath linger between you in the cold air.

“Steve, there’s no need for the thinly veiled reasoning. I’m ready. If you are.”

He let out a sigh of relief, giant grin on his face. “Okay, then.”

“However,” you hesitated, “I have an alternative plan. How about we forget about the restaurant and over-priced hotel room and just…have fun cooking dinner together at your place. See how things go.”

“Really?” he asked in surprise. “Are you sure?”

There was a time when you might have enjoyed the lavish dinner and expensive hotel room, but since meeting Steve you now realized all you needed was him. Everything else was secondary.

“I’m sure,” you confirmed, smiling at him before you directed your attention back to Justice on the playground.

He then pulled his arm around, pressing a kiss to your temple, “Okay. I might still have a few surprises up my sleeve, though.” He gave you a smirk.

“I’ll bet you do,” you grinned back.

You were then interrupted by Steve yelling in concern.

“Justice, please stick with the tube slide today, okay?” he shouted, watching her climb up to the highest slide with a possibility of falling off the side. “I’ll be right back,” he muttered to you, jogging over to his adventurous daughter.

You laughed at the exchange, feeling a happy flutter in your stomach.

____________

The 14th of February was unremarkable in the workplace, with the exception of a few more flowers. You received a dozen gorgeous lavender-colored roses from Steve, delivered to your desk on your lunch hour. Some might prefer the traditional red roses, but you loved the lavender even more. Out of curiosity, you googled the rose color’s meaning and it said: ‘love at first sight, enchantment’. You flushed at the thought, thinking back at the first time you met Steve not even 2 months ago. Part of you felt like you had known him much longer than that.

Most of your co-workers were anxious to leave early to prepare for a date, so your boss allowed it for all of your sakes. He was a kind, romantic soul. Arriving home, you scoured your closet for an appropriate outfit that was classy but comfortable, maybe a little sexy. In the end you selected a skirt with a flattering blouse that showed off a little more skin than usual. Paired with some simple jewelry and leaving your hair down, you were off to Steve’s.

Upon arriving, you opened the front door and called out, “Steve?”

“In here,” you heard in response, setting down your bags and taking off your coat before venturing in.

You found Steve in the kitchen, looking gorgeous in a pair of well-fitting khaki’s, dark blue button-down shirt, and to top it off, an apron with the words “Kiss the Cook” printed on it.

“Hmm, well I guess I better obey the apron,” you joked before your lips met his.

“Hi,” he smiled, “you look fantastic, by the way.”

“So do you. I brought a bottle of wine, but took a guess with red since you won’t tell me what’s for dinner,” you cocked an eyebrow.

“Red is perfect,” he replied. “Corkscrew is in the far right drawer.”

You followed his instruction and soon there was a glass of wine poured for each of you. He wouldn’t let you look at anything that was on the stove or in the oven, but he had you chop vegetables and select spices from the cupboard. It was fun to cook and interact in the kitchen, playfully bumping each other’s hips and him offering a taste of certain ingredients to you.

Steve had you set the table while he finished up in the kitchen. Soon you were both enjoying the fruits of your labors, everything cooked and seasoned to perfection. Steve was a really good cook, you were pleased to learn, and you let him know through the occasional moan of pleasure. After dinner, Steve left the dirty dishes to soak and joined you on the couch with your glasses of wine. They were soon forgotten, though, as conversation gave way to a full-on make-out session. Pressed up against his muscular chest, you pulled away from the kiss, playing with the buttons on his shirt as you met his eyes.

Standing up from the couch, you offered both your hands to him and he accepted, then rising himself. With one hand held in his, you led him out of the living room and climbed upstairs before pausing in the hallway. Wordlessly, you turned to him with eyebrows raised, he then pointed to the door on the left and you walked on with a smile.

Steve’s room was simply decorated, but clean. Leading him to the edge of the bed, you turned to him and placed your hands on his chest. Slowly, you began to unbutton his shirt while holding eye contact. At the same time, he reached behind you to unzipped your skirt and let it drop to the ground followed closely by your blouse. Shortly, you both were standing in your underthings when Steve broke the silence.

“You are…stunning, Y/N. Wow. I’m uh…I’m a little out of practice,” he confessed bashfully.

Staring at his sculpted, Adonis-like stature, you found that difficult to believe as your lips brushed his, fingers combing through his thick, dark blond hair.

“It’s been a while for me, too,” you admitted, your last relationship having ended almost a year ago. “But I want this. I want you.”

Hearing those words, Steve rid you both of the last of your clothing and joined you on the bed. There was no hurried clumsiness in your union, only loving caresses of intention and tenderness. Steve was a generous lover, caring for your pleasure as well as his own, including you experiencing having a beard brush against your most sensitive areas for the first time. An enjoyable surprise, you discovered. As you explored every inch of each other before rising and falling together, you were left breathless, sweaty and delectably sore. Exhaustion soon took over, falling asleep together in a loving embrace.

_____________

As morning broke, you awoke with a smile on your face, hands searching blindly for the strong arms that held you throughout the night. Finding empty sheets, they still felt warm so Steve couldn’t have been out of bed long. You slid off the mattress and discovered Steve’s shirt from last night on the floor, slipping it on before heading downstairs. You found him in the kitchen, puttering around in a pair of sweats and a t-shirt with adorable bedhead. Sneaking up behind him you slipped your arms around his waist and placed a kiss between his shoulder blades.

“Mmm. Good morning,” he responded, turning around inside your embrace to face you with his lips finding yours. “Now this is a sight I could get used to.”

“Me, too,” you muttered happily in a sleepy voice, then releasing him in search of coffee.

Settling on a barstool with a mug of the steaming liquid, Steve placed a plateful of the most amazing breakfast before you and you dived in gratefully. Finishing your last bites, you swallowed, then turning to face Steve who sat beside you clearing his own plate.

“Last night was…”

“…incredible,” he finished, placing a calloused hand on your bare thigh, fingers teasing under the hem of his own shirt. You leaned forward for a kiss, quickly caught up in the moment as his tongue met yours hungrily. You hopped off the stool to stand between his legs, feeling his readiness for another round when he stopped you, putting a few inches between your bodies. You resisted the urge to pout.

“Steve, what…”

“I’m sorry, I just wanted to…I need to tell you something before we take advantage of a fourth helping of last night’s wonderfulness.”

Your mind flashed to the multiple times during the night when one of you awoke to hands wandering, then giving into your passions.  He now rested his hands on your hips, keeping you close.

“I just didn’t want this to be a meaningless, post-coital blurt last night. Y/N,…since I met you, my life has become so much more. I thought that having Justice to care for and my work would have to fill my life completely after I lost Peggy. I didn’t expect anything more. But ever since you walked up to me in the mall wearing that adorable elf costume, I finally felt like all the pieces have fallen into place. I feel like I was waiting but I didn’t even know it. I was waiting for you, Y/N.”

With a teary smile, you looped your arms around his neck and let him continue.

“You’re kind and brilliant and gorgeous…compassionate and understanding…you’re so good with Justice and all of my friends are crazy about you. What I’m trying to say, Y/N, is…I love you. I know it hasn’t been long and its probably too soon for a conventional relationship, but we are not the norm. And you don’t have to respond right now, I know I sprung this all on you.”

Placing a hand on each side of his handsome face, you met his eyes with conviction, “Steve Rogers, I love you too. I have no interest in conventional. I want this…right here, right now. With you.”

With a tears in his eyes and a grateful smile, he captured your lips with his, a different sort of intimacy palpable between you. You broke apart, matching goofy grins upon your faces. Your bubble of love quickly burst, however, as you heard voices in the entryway.

“Hello? Steve?” you heard a female voice.

“Daddy! I’m hoooome!!” a small voice called out with a sing-song lilt to it.

Frozen in place, you watched as Laura entered the kitchen with a baby on her hip, Justice right behind her.

“Oh! I’m sorry, I uh…I thought we said 8 o’clock to drop off Justice before school…”

Steve then thawed from his frozen state and glanced at the clock. “You’re right! I just…Um, time got away from me.” He reluctantly slipped away from you and scooped up his daughter in his arms as you tugged down the hem of the borrowed shirt for some feigned modesty. “Did you have fun last night, Jimmer Jam?”

“Yeah! We ate Pa-sketti and watched the movie where food rains comes down from the sky!” she answered animatedly before looking behind her father to see you. “Y/N, you’re here!” She wriggled out of his grasp and rushed towards you, then stopping short at your wardrobe. “Where are your pants, Y/N?”

“Um…I spilled something on my dress last night and your dad was kind enough to wash it,” you tried to quickly explain.

Her young face scrunched in concern, “Did you have a sleepover without me?”

“Uh…” you didn’t have an answer for that, so Steve took over.

“Well, you had a sleepover of your own, peanut. And I think Y/N might be up for another sleepover soon and you can be there, too. Right, Y/N?” he winked at you.

Rolling your eyes at his audacity, you nodded your head. “Your daddy’s right! I might come over again soon.”

Laura was just trying not to laugh her head off at this whole exchange, loving every minute of it. “Alright, well, I’ll leave you to it, then. Looks like you had a great sleepover yourself, Stevie.”

Steve laughed, “We sure did. Thanks again for having Justice over. It meant a lot to us.”

She cocked an eyebrow at his use of the word ‘us’, but simply replied with, “You’re welcome. I’ll see you guys later.”

Noticing the time, you realized you’d be late for work if you tried to go to your apartment first. Instead, you rushed upstairs and put on your skirt and blouse, hoping they weren’t too wrinkled to wear to work. Fixing your face and hair as much as you could, you rushed downstairs to find Steve and Justice still in the kitchen.

“I have to go,” you spoke with regret.

“Okay. I’ll walk you out.”

“Bye, Y/N! You can come have a sleepover soon, right?” she asked eagerly.

Smiling to her and the man beside you, you agreed, “I hope so.”

“Eat your cereal, Jimmer Jam. I put the blueberries in just how you like it. I’ll be right back, okay?”

Following you to the door, Steve held tightly to your hand before getting lost in yet another incredible, transfixing kiss.

“I love you,” he muttered against your lips.

Pulling apart, you met his eyes, “I love you, too.”

That confession still new to you, it tugged at your heart as you reluctantly donned your coat and walked down the steps toward the cab waiting outside. Chancing one last glance before it pulled away, the man you loved offered a wave, which you returned. Leaning your head against the headrest, a smile crept to your face. If more mornings of waking up next to that handsome man, lingering kisses, and “I love you’s” were in your future, then that was definitely something you could gladly look forward to. All thanks to the little girl who always made life interesting and turned out to be the best mini matchmaker you could ever hope for.

________________________________________________________

Eep!! Well that turned out a lot longer than I planned but it was all just so fluffy and I loved it and I hope you did too!! Please let me know your thoughts, I  love to hear them. :)

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[konnl]

Compatibility

The Earth has been hit by a doomsday asteroid, carrying civilization to the brink of extinction. As far as the two survivors know, they are the last of humankind, locked in a bunker below the sizzling surface.

Compatibility is September’s Flash Fiction that introduces readers into a post-apocalyptic sci-fi story that is a stand-alone sequel to Red Then White.

Compatibility

Dreaming of Memories

A blue ball remained stationary in front of a black matte paper. The sphere was painted in blue, green and white blotches to represent the ocean, land, and clouds. The black space around was covered in tiny white dotes – a simple representation of Earth from outers pace. The planet that everyone has called home. Calling another world home was a far-fetched concept. Space travel has always been a dream. The astronomical distance between other Earth-like planets is mind-boggling. Even the idea of lightyears is tough to grasp.

Scientists have many theories about how we can travel vast distances. Often these require technologies that have not developed. Basically, space travel is still a theory. There is also the possibility of the human race being wiped out before we even get to developing space travel technology. None of this changes the fact that we are fascinated by the stars.

A man leaned down to look at the model of Earth closer, inspecting the tiny moon that was attached to the planet by a wire. He eyed each of the major continents of Earth before letting out a sigh. He couldn’t help but wonder where did it all go wrong?

“You examine that every day,” said a cold feminine voice.

The man got up and turned to face a woman who was at a kitchen bar, boiling water on a stovetop.

“Yeah,” he said while walking over to her. He leaned against the counter, saying, “we’ve been down here for so long I wonder if I will start to forget what the surface is like.”

“Is your memory that bad, Mr. Morin?” the lady asked.

“I’m not sure,” the man said. “I hope not. It is just a concern of mine.”

“Do you think staring at that miniature model of the planet will help?”

“Maybe? I’ve never seen the Earth from that perspective before. Most people haven’t. Now, I don’t think anyone ever will.”

“Unfortunately not,” the lady said while opening a chrome packet, pouring the oat-contents into the boiling water. “Humans are resilient, we are able to rebuild. That is what we did after empires like the Egyptians, and the Romans fell.”

The Big Picture

The man looked over to the ceiling where a closed hatch was at the far corner of the room. A ladder was just below it beside a console that glowed red. He nodded at the glowing light, saying, “how long do we have to wait though? It might not even be our generation.”

The woman stirred the contents of the pot with a wooden spoon, saying, “yes. Which is why we have to stick to our set routine. Keep healthy and procreate.” She glared at him with her emerald eyes. “It isn’t a matter of intimacy.”

The man scratched the back of his head saying, “it might help if you called me by my first name.”

“Alright Craig, we can do that. Can we try tonight?”

“Sure,” Craig said. Maybe stop shaving your head, he thought.

His name and her hair fashion were mostly excuses. Shaving their heads helped save on the limited shampoo supplies. The truth was, sex was the last thing on his mind. Of course, he understood that the interaction was only to carry on the human species. For all they knew, he was the last man on earth, and she was the last woman. Humanity potentially came down just to them. The act of procreation was also a difficult one when it involved this the automaton of a woman.

“How did you get selected again, Amy?” Craig asked.

“For this program?” the women identified as Amy asked. “No different than you.”

“That’s the funny thing,” Craig said. “I’m not sure if I fully recall.”

Amy squinted, saying, “your memory really isn’t that good. We’ll have to perform more mental exercises to correct this. Hopefully, it isn’t a defect in your genetics.” She poured the oatmeal out of the pot and into two separate bowls. “Here, eat, and we will begin our morning analysis of the surface.”

“Maybe I bumped my head,” Craig said.

“Unlikely,” Amy said coldly. “We monitor our health daily. It would have been flagged in the console.”

Craig took the bowl and sifted the contents around with the spoon, feeling the heat that was absorbed by the metal utensil. “Can you refresh my memory on how we got here?”

Amy placed the pot on an unused element and took her bowl. “Well, we all took DNA tests, and we were psychologically evaluated. The results dictated who would be a suitable candidate to continue the human race.”

“Right, I remember,” Craig said. He ate some of his oatmeal. Truthfully, he still didn’t remember the events that brought him to this underground bunker. Everything seemed like a blur. One day he was living a normal life, had a steady job, a wife, and the next he found himself here. There was a gap in his memory.

Critical Thinking

Hannah, Craig thought. He recalled his last memory of his wife: A road trip to Banff. She was a natural blonde and was obsessed with her job. Work seemed like a trivial thing, now that he was apart from her. Now, life consisted of physical exercise, studying in the archives, and daily reviews of the Earth’s temperature levels.

Craig looked up at his companion, saying, “how many more of us do you think there are?”

“What do you mean?” Amy asked. “Of the human race?”

“I guess, I meant humans in the bunkers. There have to be more.”

“Not to my knowledge. There wasn’t enough time to build more before the asteroid hit.”

“But they had enough time to do a screening process?”

Amy finished the rest of her breakfast and put her bowl in the sink. “I didn’t build the program. The UN did in hopes of keeping our species alive. Be thankful that you survived.”

“I fear I might go insane down here.”

“That is why they put the program guide together, so we have a purpose every day. I am no different than you, I signed up in hopes of surviving.”

“Yeah,” Craig said. “That’s true.” He finished his oatmeal and placed the bowl in the sink as well. “I wonder if there were any doomsday-preppers who managed to survive through this.”

“I guess our offspring will be the ones to find out about that,” Amy said.

Craig nodded. He didn’t have any further to comment. The concept of living the rest of his life in this bunker with Amy was not a pleasant thought, they had little to no common interest. They had been in the shelter for several months if his memory served correctly. Then again, his mind wasn’t very reliable as of late.

Planetary Inspection

The two left the kitchen and entered a secondary room which consisted of two monitors mounted to the ceiling. Each monitor had a white office chair in front of it. Both Craig and Amy sat down on a chair and waved at the monitor, turning it on.

Each morning, after their workout and breakfast, the two analyzed the latest information the drones gathered. The robots were space-explorative graded and could easily survive the harsh temperatures on the surface. They were fully equipped with cameras and measuring equipment to test the planet’s livability.

The monitor showcased a smaller live-cam of the drone Craig managed. The video displayed an ash-covered wasteland with a grey sky. The digital interface also contained stats of the drone’s health, menus and a map outlining how far the drone has gone from the bunker. At the top right was the temperature which stated: 148° C

“Damnit,” Craig mumbled. He had a small amount of hope that maybe they would have seen a change in temperature. It had stayed the same for the past week, give or take a few digits.

“What?” Amy looked over at him.

“Nothing, the readings seem to be the same as they were yesterday, and the day before.” Craig waved his hand to enhance the live-cam of the drone.

Amy turned back to her interface, “we aren’t looking for hope Craig. We are simply monitoring the aftermath for future generations.”

“Right,” Craig said while continuing on his tasks. He merely wanted to believe there was more. Each time he reviewed the stats, his hope dimmed. Amy and Craig really were the last people on Earth.

Duty to Humankind

As with every day, the two continued their routine of planetary diagnostics, studying, meditation and eating. The activities are was what the UN’s program guide had instructed them to do. Amy didn’t question it, and Craig followed, knowing if he didn’t, he would probably start to go crazy.

After dinner, Craig and Amy patrolled the halls to ensure they did the daily inventory check and reviewed the general health of the bunker. As with every day, everything was in order. The task generally took a couple of hours which left for one more task before leisurely time: procreation.

The bedroom lights were brought to level three of ten, creating a soft glow over the black sheets. Craig had just finished showing, drying himself from head to toe. Amy sat on the bed, hands on her lap. He wrapped the towel around his waist and walked over the bed, sitting down beside her.

“Would you like to undress me?” Amy asked.

Craig shook his head. “You really aren’t good at this are you?”

Amy exhaled and unbuttoned her blouse.

Craig watched as she slipped out of her shirt and pants. Her body was well-toned, hell, even better than his own. Her breasts were basically what other women paid to attempt to recreate. Amy’s physique was a frame that most men would fantasize over. In an unclear series of events, Craig found himself being the last ‘lucky’ guy on the planet who got to live that fantasy.

Amy leaned back onto the bed of pillows, resting her hands on her legs. “Come here,” she said.

Craig stiffly crawled over on top of her, eyeing her from her smooth legs up to her pink lips. She was the definition of beauty, yet he didn’t feel a thing for her. Was he not supposed to feel something for the woman who would care for his future children?

Amy gently ran her hand against the back of his neck, bringing him closer.

The act of sex would have been instinctual with his wife. Why was this so difficult for him? Perhaps the concept of being the last humans on the planet was rotting in the back of his mind. Maybe he was frazzled by not knowing what happened to his memories, or to his wife.

Craig resisted momentarily, stopping his face from meeting Amy’s.

“Are we going through this again?” Amy asked.

Craig blinked a couple of times. “I can’t recall what happened to Hannah.” He rolled off of Amy and pressed into his forehead, trying to remember anything. Craig couldn’t.

Amy sat up beside him, saying, “you’re overthinking this. We’ve endured the impossible, being alive today when everything else is gone.” Amy took Craig’s hand and pulled him towards her as she leaned back down into the bed.

Craig exhaled through his nose, pushing his thought-chatter aside for one moment and embraced the woman, melting his thoughts.

[capandruby]

happy endings 2/?

Actually, my story begins a few months before his wife died. 

I was standing in line behind what looked like at least 50 other people - just in this line, not counting the lines on either side of this one - and I was bouncing in between anxiety, nervousness, and excitement. When it was my turn at the front of the line, I’d go into a makeshift tent and I would get to meet the actor responsible for my latest obsession, a well known character on a popular TV show that had just finished its final season. 

I’d come into this obsession late. For a show that had obviously run a 7-year reign on cable television, I’d really missed the boat. My best friend had been telling me to watch the show for a couple of years -- it had lived in my Netflix queue at least that long. One Friday night, with nothing to do and my interest level in doing anything were at an all-time low, I clicked on the show just to give my brain something to do.

I wasn’t even hooked in the first few episodes. It took probably half of the first season for me to really want to continue to watch it, and even then I probably didn’t pay a lot of attention to those episodes. Enter season 2 and my reason for this long line -- Kieran. The actor who played the villain-turned-eventual-good-guy. Each episode made me fall deeper into his character and root for him to succeed in his happy ending. 

Though I’m no stranger to fandom obsessions (Doctor Who, Marvel, Gilmore Girls, anyone?), this was the first time I have been so absolutely invested in a character. His hurts made me cry real, chest-heaving sobs. His triumphs left me satisfied. I wanted his character to be real, and I was real-life jealous of the show girlfriend and their relationship. I wanted my own real-life person just like that to love me just like he did on the show. 

The obsession with this character was real and fast. It didn’t help that I was in a weird point in my life, where I was facing the big 3-0 in a few months with no real accomplishments to my credit. Sure, I had risen to an assistant director position within my department, but work didn’t leave me fulfilled in any way. I had a few close friends, but they lived in different states and cities, and most of our communications took place over group chats, Facebook messenger, and Snapchat. They were all married and had been for years, with some of them starting a family. I hadn’t seen my best friend from high school, who I regularly stayed in touch with all through college even though we were in separate states, but once since she had gotten married. Everyone had couple friends and even babies and I was all alone. Most of my free time was spent browsing the Internet lives of my friends from my phone, or immersing myself in other people’s stories by reading or watching TV shows. I had reached an impossible weight - 40 pounds heavier than I had been just 3 years earlier. It was a time of self doubt and impossibilities, and everything felt too hard - participating in life was too hard. I knew that there had to be something more than the sad existence I was living. 

Watching Kieran act, though, as this character, gave me some hope. I was browsing the show on google when I discovered that they were doing a farewell convention tour with the actors in a few different cities across North America, and there was just two cities left. The closest one was 15 hours from my home, but I saw it as a sign. I was inspired. I might never have an equal to that character in my life. I might never have a happy ending. But I won’t ever know unless I try. So I decided to buy a ticket to the con and change my life at the same time.

The first Monday after finding out about the con, I signed up for a gym membership. Step 1 in remembering how to love myself - start feeling like myself again. I’d gone to the gym for 45 minutes to an hour several times a week - not doing anything major, just using the treadmill and a couple of weight machines to help myself out. I altered my diet to include less takeaway and more home cooked meals with healthier choices. I cut out sweets and drank more water. Slowly I began to lose some of the weight I had gained and feel better about myself as my old clothes began to fit again.

I finally got over my fear of pain and needles and went to get a tattoo I’d been thinking about for almost 10 years - a lightning bolt on my left arm. It reminded me to stay true to myself. I started planning a trip to Ireland, a dream I’d had since at least high school. I always told myself I’d go; perhaps with friends from college after we saved up some money and vacation time from our first big-girl jobs, perhaps with my brother during a summer vacation. Then, as my friends got married and started families and my brother joined the military and moved away, my dreams changed to maybe going as my honeymoon trip. But the years kept moving and I was almost 30 with no husband in sight and a trip still  not taken. 

It was time to stop waiting and start living.

That’s what Kieran did for me.

I was here to tell him thank you, and to satisfy my fangirl heart by getting a quick 30 seconds captured forever by a professional photographer - enter present day, the reason why I was standing in a long line.

I had already spent a significant amount of money to get to this point in the day. The con was show-specific, and sold different levels of “experiences” for different amounts of money. Since this was my birthday present to myself, I rewarded myself with a Tier 2 ticket package that cost over $200. My plane ticket to get here was $150, and the rental car from the airport another $200. I hadn’t counted how much I’d spent in souvenirs, but this photo op was another $100. It was an expensive weekend, but one I thought I’d earned. 

I’d come alone, for all of the same reasons mentioned above. But at least at cons, you’re united with everyone else there for the biggest reason of loving the same thing, the same people, the same fictional world. It’s easy to talk to strangers in lines and panels when you’re all there for the same reason. 

That’s why I didn’t think it was strange when the girl who was walking down the line toward me stopped and said hello. She looked about my age and was very pretty - noticeably pretty - with long strawberry blonde hair in soft waves and big green eyes. She wasn’t wearing any fandom merch, but she was wearing a different colored badge indicating the highest level of ticket experience. 

“Hi,” she said, in a softly accented voice. “I’m Brigid. Are you here to see Kieran?” 

“Hey, I’m Anna. Yeah, I’m here to see Kieran. Actually, I’m here only to see Kieran. The rest is really just a bonus.”

“Really. I always like to ask, what is it you love about Kieran?” she asked me.

I looked at her, thinking about what to say. “Honestly? I fell in love with his character. I don’t know much about him personally. I just wanted a chance to meet him and say thank you. He played a part in changing my life.”

She lifted an eyebrow in skepticism. I watched her mull over my response. She looked so familiar to me, but I couldn’t place her. Maybe she had sat near me in a panel earlier today? Maybe she was a vendor and I had purchased something from her earlier -- that would explain the different colored badge. 

“He changed your life? How is that possible if you’ve never even met him?”

I sighed. “It’s not that he personally did anything, I guess. It’s kind of hard to explain. Watching his character turn from a villain into a good person, someone who would do absolutely everything in his power to protect the one he loves...how he still struggled with believing that he was good enough to deserve love and get a happy ending. That really resonated with me in a time in my life where I was struggling with myself and my worth. His journey reminded me that I may not get a happy ending. I may never find my own true love. But I can’t wait for life to start. I’m 30 years old. Life is moving on without me. I have to stop waiting and start living. That’s what I mean when I say he changed my life. With his character, his acting - that was him, even if it was in just a small way. I’d like to say thank you.”

She smiled. “I can understand that. Hey, come with me for a second.” She reached out and touched my arm, then turned and started walking away.

“Wait! I can’t leave the line or I’ll miss my picture time!” I called after her.

She turned back to me. “Trust me, I can get you back in line in a bit. You should come check this out first. There will be plenty of time for pictures later; I’ve got a badge that will get you back in. You won’t miss your spot if you keep up with your picture ticket.” She said, starting to walk again. 

Stop waiting, start living, I told myself, stepping out of line and following her. 

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[eldronebueno]

Tangerine: Innovation by Reinvention

By Sophie Wang

It was not long ago when filmmakers realized their cinematic dreams with big, expensive cameras and humongous crews. (As a matter of fact, they still do) However, the waves of new technology and media is slowly changing the landscape of the film industry. Tangerine, for example, as one of the breakout films in the 2015 Sundance film festival, was the first feature ever accepted that was shot completely with three iPhones.(Murphy) Does this signal the genesis of a new ingenious way of filmmaking or the end of cinema? What role does mobile filmmaking play in the future of filmmaking? What kind of impact does it have on the relationship between the audience and the images that they perceive? By examining a key scene in Tangerine, it can be argued that mobile technologies enable the average users to produce media in ways it has never been produced before, blur the lines of a niche mode of filmmaking and the traditional mode of filmmaking by borrowing from traditional film aesthetics while working within the limits of the medium, and hold the potential to extend or replace the traditional mode of filmmaking in the future.

First of all, although still remaining largely a novelty in the present day, the idea of mobile filmmaking dates as far back as over a decade ago. The first alleged feature length film shot entirely with mobile phones was made by South American filmmaker Aryan Kaganof in 2005 (Simmons). With the advancement of technology and the ever growing market of mobile applications, we are becoming more and more entrenched in text messages, streaming services, audiobooks, selfies, etc. The age of smartphones and mobile internet has transformed people’s lives as well as the tools that came with it. The latest generation of iPhone has 1920-by-1080-pixel resolution and weighs only 6.63 ounces, which means that any iPhone user can film in 1080p HD. (Apple) As Anne Friedberg quoted in her essay “The End of Cinema: Multimedia and Technological Change”: “The medium is not the message in the digital world, it is an embodiment of it” (Friedberg). In 2017, the message that smartphones embodies is that anyone can be a producer, writer, and performer of original content, and the cheap cost and convenience of smartphones lend itself perfectly for digestible, entertaining chunks of media (Snapchat, Vine). Furthermore, the high resolution and large shooting formats in mobile phones have made it possible for mobiles films to be immersive, hence suitable for theatres. It is not a surprise then that Tangerine became the first film to be shot on a smartphone to secure a theatrical run. (Murphy)

Secondly, the film was able to replicate the traditional film aesthetic with an astounding degree of precision. It can been seen both through the visual image and the sound production. According to director Sean Baker, the iPhones alone are not enough to provide the tools that Baker needed to achieve the cinematic look. By dropping the name of one of his executive producers, Mark Duplass, he was able to obtain three adapters that are still in their prototype stage developed by the company Moondog Labs that give filmmakers more control over their iPhone footage. "It would let us shoot the way Sergio Leone would shoot westerns," said Baker. Then he combined the adapters with Filmic Pro, an inexpensive app that offers intricate control over the camera settings on iPhones. "The separate ability to control white balance, focus and exposure were key fundamentals that enabled them to get good focus points in every shot," said Neill Barham, the founder and chief executive of Filmic Pro.(Murphy) As one can see from the footage from 39:01 to 39:26, when transgender sex worker Alexandra sets off to the open mic night that she is due to perform at, and her best friend, Sin-Dee, another transgender sex worker drags the cis gendered sex worker Dinah to find Chester, their pimp who Dinah cheated with on Sin-dee, the background is a colourful, vibrant, and cinematic looking sunset. The whole scene looks like it was shot with 35mm or some other kind of professional camera. According Baudrillard, “simulation threatens the difference between the true and the false.” (Baudrillard) In Tangerine, on the technical level, the truth is created through the creative use of iPhones and the adapters and the app, which allowed the director to create film images that replicates the aesthetics of traditional cinema. So does it matter if the film is shot on iPhone or not? The audience would not be able to tell.

The realistic feel of the images is further amplified in the following scene. Armenian cab driver Razmik’s family is gathering to celebrate Christmas. The director switched to handheld camera for the whole scene. The camera follows Razmik’s wife around her house, showing her preparing the food for her mother and her mother’s friends, and her daughter playing with the dog, while the sync sound conversation of her mother talking plays in the background, thus portraying a seemingly harmonious and normal family with documentary like realism. Within the context of the film, one can say that the image Razmik’s family or his mother is trying to project is a simulacra, it is the third phase that masks the absence of a profound reality. (Baudrillard) And that reality is the close family bonds between a hardworking immigrant father, a stay at home mother, a loving grandmother, and her young granddaughter. However, the truth is those bonds do not exist. As demonstrated earlier in the film, Razmik suffers from the boredom and the frustration of dealing with his various eccentric clients. He is also a loyal lover of transgender prostitutes. Later it is shown that Razmik’s wife is often stuck between the arguments of her own mother and Razmik due to her mother’s obsessive and controlling nature. In essence, this seemingly close knit family is barely held together by poor communication and pre-existing responsibilities.

Another trademark visual style in this film is the use of crane camera movement. For example, from 3:24 to 3:40, after Sin-Dee finds out that Chester has been cheating on her when she was in jail for his faults, she is shown storming out of the store and going out on the street in a few separate crane shots. Without knowing the details of the equipment, the audience might assume that those shots were taken with a professional crane. However, the truth is far from that. According to Baker, those shots were achieved by him riding his bicycle, shooting with one hand with the iPhone while holding onto the handlebars with the other. "It literally felt like I was 12 years old, shooting my VHS movies in New Jersey," he said. (Murphy) In addition to the DIY crane shots, the crane is also a homemade device fashioned by Baker, who attached the iPhone to a painter's pole. (Dollar) Again, by creatively manipulating the medium, the filmmaker was able to make believable crane shots that resembles the ones we see in big budget Hollywood films.

The film also uses location shooting, most of the scenes were shot on the streets near the intersection of Santa Monica and Highland boulevards, a half mile from the Baker's home. (Dollar) A few key locations in the film played an important roles in establishing the setting of the story. For instance, the iconic Hollywood Donut Times was used to stage multiple climatic conflicts in the film including the beginning of the film where Sin-Dee first finds out about Chester cheating on her, and at the end of the film where every party involved in the story gather in the shop in order to solve their respective conflicts. The Grand Motel is also used as an important location to depict the desolation and poverty of the life of sex workers. Another ingenious use of the location was the Christmas decoration in the neighborhood, since the story happens during Christmas, and the action was limited to a 24-hour period (Strauss), Baker took advantage of his surroundings and painted a festive and lively LA Christmas that contrasts the loneliness of the characters.

The sound design of Tangerine also added to the film’s realism. Instead of using the traditional boom mic sound, the sound technician opted for lav mics. "The characters would literally take off in opposite directions. With that run-and-gun style, the lav mics enabled the coverage of this movie to work," explained sound editor/re-recording mixer Jeremy Grody. "The boom mic was often way too reverb-y, or way too noisy, especially when they were out on the street." (Walden) By tweaking the EQ and reverb, Grody was able to reduce the issue of the lav mics sounding too close up. The end result? A sound that is clean and invisible as it blends so perfectly with everything else. The sound technician also made a few creative decisions in the sound design, for example, he added a pronounced slap reverb on Sin-Dee's lines, as she's yelling across the parking lot at Alexandra which helps communicate her aggression. (Walden)

Lastly, the medium specificity of smartphones not only does not stop mobile filmmaking from gaining recognition as art, but also holds the potential to expand the horizon of future filmmaking or even replace the traditional means of filmmaking. As demonstrated through Tangerine, mobile filmmaking is cheap, it offers the filmmaker with mobility and the ability to keep a low profile. Baker said due to budgetary concern, his only options are shooting with a DSLR or a smartphone. He chose smartphones in the end because he found that even with DSLR the setup would have been cost-prohibitive, he would have needed three additional crew members in order to make a quality film. (Wolfe). In addition, since both leads in the film, Kitana Kiki Rodriguez and Mya Taylor are non-professional actors, they needed time to get used to a camera. “But because everyone is familiar with an iPhone, the cast felt comfortable from the beginning.”, said baker(Murphy) Moreover, with creative use of camera movements and editing decisions made in post-production, a film shot with mobile phone can completely simulate films that are shot on cameras that are worth thousands of dollars. Since technologies will be constantly evolving and advancing, perhaps in the near future, mobile phone cameras can completely replace the role of professional cameras.

The success of Tangerine marks an important milestone in the history of cinema: films no longer need to be shot with professional equipment that cost a fortune. With mobile technologies, filmmakers are able to create quality images and sound that are commercially viable. To borrow Sean Baker’s words: "We were almost making our own aesthetic, and I think that's what separates us from the pack," (Strauss). Mobile technologies provides filmmakers with endless possibilities and accessibility in order for them to create their own unique aesthetics. In conclusion, mobile technologies have the power to transform average users into media producers and content providers, they enable filmmakers to create the illusion of a full blown, visually and aurally rich film by borrowing from traditional film aesthetics while working within the limits of the medium, and hold the key to unlocking more potential of the future of cinema.

Works Cited

Anne Friedberg, “The End of Cinema: Multimedia and Technological Change,” in Film

Theory and Criticism: Introductory Readings, 7th ed, ed. Leo Braudy & Marshall

Cohen (New York & Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2009), 802-813.

Baudrillard, Jean, and Sheila Faria. Glaser. "Precession of the Simulacra." Simulacra and

Simulation. Ann Arbor: U of Michigan, 2014. 1-7.

Dollar, Steve. "Arts & Entertainment: 'Tangerine' Captures Offbeat Hollywood." Wall Street

Journal, Eastern edition ed.Jul 06 2015. ProQuest. Web. 3 Apr. 2017 .

Jan Simmons, “Between iPhone and YouTube: Movies on the Move?” in Video Vortex

Reader 11: Moving Images Beyond YouTube, ed. Geert Lovink and Rachel Somers

Miles. Amsterdam: Institute of Network Cultures (2011), 95-107.

MURPHY, MEKADO. "Sean Baker Talks 'Tangerine,' and Making a Movie With an

iPhone." Jul 05 2015. Web. ProQuest. 3 Apr. 2017.

Strauss, Bob. "'Tangerine' Takes a Look at Los Angeles Transsexuals." Daily NewsJul 08

2015. ProQuest. Web. 3 Apr. 2017.

Walden, Jennifer. "TANGERINE'S STREET-SOUNDS OF L.A." Mix 09 2015:

38,38,56. ProQuest. Web. 3 Apr. 2017 .

Wolfe, Jennifer. "TANGERINE." Digital Video 23.7 (2015): 20-1. ProQuest. Web. 3 Apr.

2017.

"IPhone 7 - Technical Specifications." Apple (CA). N.p., n.d. Web. 03 Apr. 2017.