#Jess Varnish

[jrooc]

Weekly tag Wednesday

Thanks for the tags @spookygingerr @energievie @heymacy @jessij1997-gallavichxlove

name: Jess

age: Noel-2

star sign: Libra ♎️

🩷🩷🩷

favourite part of the last week: I’m in Mexico 🇲🇽 visiting mi madre

what are you doing right now/we’re doing before this: hanging by the pool/getting my nails did

what is something you’re looking forward to in the next week? Drinking a cerveza on the beach and attempting to survive a week of the mother

do you currently have nail varnish on/do you ever wear it? Yes! got ‘em done today 💅

what’s in your bag? or pocket? In my Gallagher Tratai tote? Kindle, keys, lip balm

what’s the last thing you created? (feel free to add any links so we can go support!) Last published thing was my video game fic for @gallapiech Infinite Runner where Ian saves Mickey

👾 tagging and sending good vibes to

@deedala @mmmichyyy @gallapiech @femboymilkovich @stocious

@kiennilove @vintagelacerosette @wehangout @geonbaeeeesblog @sam-loves-seb

@samantitheos @the-rat-wins @thepupperino @echotrees @runninonemptyy

@runawaybrainsc @blue-disco-lights @lazystargazy @gallavich-annise @c-nord

@crossmydna @rereadanon @burninface @spoonfulstar @suzy-queued

@roryonic @look-i-love-u @doshiart @guinguin1984 @heymacy

@gallawitchxx @darlingian @heymrspatel @catgrassplantdad @ian-galagher

[amorchai]

𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐓 𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐌𝐈𝐃𝐓’𝐒 𝐍𝐀𝐈𝐋𝐒.

original post was 140 notes.

pairing(s): platonic!schmidt x platonic!reader

words: 669

warnings/tags: platonic only, no romantic involvement.

“why do you need to paint my nails, y/n?” asks schmidt, feet carrying him out the bathroom and through the expanse of the loft, you following swiftly behind him with eagerness present. “because, no one else is in and i’m so bored,” you reply. 

“where’s jess when you need her?” schmidt sighs as he sits on the corner side of the couch, you sitting far too close beside him for his own comfort as he swindles his body as if you just tried to attack him.  

“you’re a crazy person! no! no you can’t paint my nails, i’m a male, i’m a man. plus, the moment nick sees he will make me regret it for the rest of his life,”. “that’s traditional views, boring. plus, it’s nick, we know that’s not for much longer, he’s an old man,” you try to joke, moving yourself to follow him teasingly, “don’t say that.”

you whine as schmidt stands from his position, back towards the television as he turns to you who sits on the edge of the couch, staring at him with a hopeful gaze. “why is this so important?”, “i’m so bored, you know that. i’ve been dealing with so much workload recently, you also know that. let me have a half hour break to paint your nails, please.” 

schmidt rolls his eyes in despair, meanwhile walking back to the couch to reply with a very low and quiet, “okay, fine.” you squeal in joy as you stand to run to jess room to grab her endless number of nail polishes, pretending the laptop with your deadlines sprawling the screen isn’t placed upon the desk awaiting your return.

once you walk back, you notice he’s not by the couch anymore and for a moment you think he’s made a run for it until you hear him from the kitchen and following his voice, he is perked upon one of the bar stools, kitchen roll placed on the table where one hand holds it down. “i don’t want any nail polish on my suit or furniture, i would simply scream”.

“so what colour is the suit you are wearing tomorrow? i’ll pick the same colour so you don’t look like an idiot going into work,” schmidt eyebrows furrow at your words, in complete shock, “like the colour of my nails are the issue here — what even makes you think i know what i’m wearing tomorrow?” you raise your eyebrows towards him, expression one which indicates you know him far too well. 

“fine, it’s navy.” his words cause you to litter through the large bag filled with coloured nail polishes, most of them bright and colourful like jess’ personality, left are the duller colours at the bottom, clearly discarded and unused at the bottom of the bag.

you pull a shade of navy from it, showing him which only causes him to continue rolling his eyes dramatically all the while he extends his hands, dress shirt riding up his wrist and blazer already hung neatly away in fear of a singlet droplet of varnish tarnishing his outfit.

his face remains stoic and mildly confused as you begin to start from his left thumb and work your way across the hand, delicately and carefully shaping the colour over the area of his nails. schmidt’s expression softens slightly while he watches the way you hardly blink, tongue poking from your mouth as your concentration sticks to his hand in order to perfect your work.

“kim is totally going to make fun of me in front of all the woman at work tomorrow,” schmidt complains while you move to the other hand, even though his words show discomfort, he raises his finished hand to admire, causing you to laugh. 

“well they’ll be jealous, you’ll be the prettiest one there,” you tease coolly as you continue, his free elbow nudging your side jokingly as he goes back to look over the navy blue fitting his nails perfectly, and he thought that maybe it wasn’t so bad. 

amorchai masterlist . taglist form

amorchai © ─ all rights reserved. no reposting/translating/copying will be tolerated.

[apollabarnes]

burn (notice) after reading

under a read more because while this is absolute crack it is based on some spoiler-ly photos (if you've seen them you know!) from one of the episodes after the two-parter. this is, obviously, an au of both shows.

does it help if you've seen burn notice before? probably! but don't worry, you'll just be as confused as our main 911 fella.

dear @leashybebes i guess this is my wip wednesday? (don't worry, young gina and young abby are having fun as we speak and that should be done soon! but i am freaking out just a little and the crack sure did help hahaha)

"What is going on?"

"That's a great question, Bobby. We'll be happy to answer that once we're not here. Fi, how's it looking?"

"You know how much I love a construction site, Michael. Ten minutes." The woman started digging through the piles of materials left behind by the builders. She crowed when she found a container of wood varnish, and Bobby was legitimately terrified by the sparkle in her eyes when she came up with a package of nails.

"Any chance we can make it less than ten minutes? We're not outrunning the cartel by that much." The third in their little trio peered out the front window, resting a shotgun against the frame.

"If you want this to go faster, Sam, you should help instead of chattering. I would like to keep all of my fingers and I need to focus."

"Why do I go through all the trouble of setting aliases up if no one ever uses them?"

"Sam, we can talk about it later."

"Hey, Bobby, do you and the wife have any booze— right, right, you're sober, my bad. You think any of the construction guys…"

The back door opened with a thud and a fourth man eased his way in, a large bag slung over his shoulders. "Whew, this guy is heavy."

"What the hell is that?"

"Sam, you want to give me a hand?"

"Sure thing, Jesse. Bobby, meet El Hefe the second. He's going to be standing in for you in this little psychodrama."

"That's a dead body."

"Ooh, he's perceptive. Don't touch, this is very unstable. You know what, maybe you should stand on the other side of the room." Fi brandished a wooden spoon at Bobby when he tried to get a look at what she was stirring together in a bucket.

"I'm calling the cops."

"Great idea. Wait five minutes."

"Mike, I just want to remind you that you promised we wouldn't have to deal with cartels any more after we left Miami."

"You know what, you're right, next time I'll let our client deal with it themselves."

"Hey, no, that's not what I meant, I just—"

"Yeah, Sam. Not my first choice either."

"Michael, this is ready."

"Great, can you and Jesse—"

"Booby trap the doors, got it."

"Sam—"

"El Hefe at the front window. On it, Mikey."

"Bobby, you're with me. You ready to call the cops?"

"On you?"

"On the cartel. Can you do that for me? …No. Okay. Give me the cell phone."

"What are you going to do with that?"

Michael held a hand up, clearing his throat as the phone rang. "This is Captain Bobby Nash, LAFD. There are three cars filled with armed men approaching my house. I need police here immediately. I'm home alone, my wife is on shift. Oh my—"

"How did you do that?"

"Accents are easier than you think they are. Guys, pack it up, we've got cops on the way and ninety seconds to clear this place before the actual cartel starts shooting us."

"Waiting on you, Mikey."

"Come on, Bobby. We're going to have a very serious conversation as soon as we're somewhere with less bullets," Michael grabbed Bobby's arm, steering him out the back door.

"You just blew up my house."

"Second time in a year. You don't have the best luck," Fiona said, digging through the fridge. "Michael, it's just yogurt and beer in here. Would buying fruit actually kill you?"

"There's fruit in the yogurt."

"That's not the point and you know it!"

"Give them a few minutes," Jesse told Bobby under his breath. "They have this fight at least once a week."

"Here man, you like lemonade?" Sam offered Bobby a glass, two beer bottles dangling from his other hand. He offered one of those to Jesse.

Bobby eyed the bottles appraisingly and Sam pulled them back out of his reach. "Nu-uh. I get it, today was stressful, but I'm not about to help someone jump off their bandwagon."

"This is not the serious conversation I was promised. I need to call my wife."

"Sure," Sam nodded understandingly, sitting down in the armchair across from them. "I mean, there is one small problem with that — we kind of lost your phone in the explosion."

"What do you mean — how did we lose my phone? Your friend Mike used it to call the cops right before I got dragged out of there without, I might add, so much as an explanation."

"Well, here's the thing Bobby. The first rule of being dead is leaving behind anything that can be tied to you. If your phone isn't with your body, then there's a whole thing where everyone gets suspicious about the death. Was it really you, was it staged, what's going on…"

"You blew up my house and kidnapped me, that's what's going on, and I would like to leave before my wife thinks that I'm actually dead."

"Technically, yes, we did do that. But only so the cartel didn't kill you first."

Bobby eyed Sam, wondering how quickly he could get past him and out the front door. Michael and Fiona had spent the entire time back to this apartment bickering in the car and Jesse seemed cautiously amused by everything that was going on. Sam was probably the biggest obstacle.

Sam grinned slowly at his assessing stare, toasting him with his beer bottle. He arched an eyebrow and Bobby could read the challenge on his face. Bobby took a sip of his lemonade.

"I have no idea who was in those sedans we passed on the way out of the neighbourhood, you could be lying to me."

"You remember Dennis Jenkins?" Michael asked suddenly.

"The man who killed my wife's fiance? Yeah, he's a hard man to forget."

"So it turns out that the cartel supplements their drug business with hits for hire. And one of those people in the black book hired them to take out the only people who could prove its provenance," Sam picked up the thread of the conversation. "Jenkins' daughter reached out last week when he had another 'accident' and long story short, a cartel member might have mentioned your name when we stopped them."

"El Hefe the second?" Bobby asked wryly. He was in a house full of killers. He figured he should be worried about whether or not they'd let him live, but they'd already had a chance to get rid of him and hadn't taken it. "So you're — private security?"

They laughed.

"Nah. Well," Jesse paused, tilting his head and considering the question, "Kind of. But our clients are generally…"

"In a lot of trouble. You were supposed to get a bullet in your head today," Fiona said bluntly. She hopped up on the counter, peeling the lid of a cup of yogurt. "You're welcome, by the way."

"…Thanks. So. Now we call the cops and let them handle it?"

"What makes you think there aren't cops in that black book who are eager to keep their noses clean of this whole mess?" Sam asked, kicking his feet up onto the coffee table and draining his beer.

That pulled Bobby up short. "I…"

"Right, you trust the ones you work with. But there are a lot of cops," Michael shrugged nonchalantly, reaching around Fiona to open the fridge. "The trick is finding the right one to take care of this. And no, before you ask, it can't be Athena."

"We've done jobs like these before," Fiona added. "A week, ten days tops, and we'll have all your nasty little friends tied up in a bow and delivered to someone unimpeachable. Then it's back home with your wife and back to putting out fires."

"I'm not sure I'd call Harris and Lane — never mind."

"Oh, you like them when they pay you to spy on your friends but not any other time?" Fiona snapped, leaning forward. Her grip on her spoon shifted and Bobby wondered if she was actually going to try and stab Sam with it.

"That was over ten years ago! Mike forgave me right away. When are you going to let it go?"

"When I'm dead."

"Technically speaking, Fi…"

"They have this argument at least once a week too," Jesse whispered to Bobby, smiling faintly. Bobby recognized the tone. Sometimes you had to laugh at your family.

"Who wins?" Bobby whispered back.

"Guys, we still need to figure out our approach, can we do that and then snipe at each other? Please?" Michael asked, leaning against the counter.

"Fine," Fiona tossed her hair over her shoulder, ignoring Sam. "You owe me dinner, Michael. Somewhere nice."

[likelimbo]

jesse spends the spring night strum-strum-strumming away on his ukelele. he’s delegated himself to the balcony of their new apartment, curled on a folding chair, where the sound is eaten by the outside air before it can travel too far.

these past few days, he’s been practicing nonstop with a single-minded determination. he supposes it’s his new thing, like the one summer he’d spent obsessively learning 3d modeling. he had gotten pretty far with that one, and had brought it all the way to university with him, where his thing had branched out and mutated with all the new stimuli. korea university gave him a plethora of new tools: stuff for woodworking, physical model-making, drawing—he spent a good amount of time on each pursuit before, inevitably, football would always take over.

football was his baseline. when he stayed up through the night hammering hinges onto his hand-carved music box, he suffered the next day at practice—enough that once his coach pulled him aside after his drills to give him a stern speech. don’t squander your potential, he said. keep your grades up but stay focused. focus meant shelving his music box before he could cover it with varnish, abandoning his perspective skyscraper drawings, and it meant his paper-mache taj mahal replica would be indefinitely missing a plinth.

but his game would always be good. his kicks would always be precise, his positioning immaculate. football was his One True Thing, you could say, and he abandoned everything else for it eventually.

sitting on the balcony alone, his thoughts wander back to all of the half-realized pursuits he’s left in his wake. jesse strums another few chords, playing the first verse of counting stars. the lyrics half-form in his mouth, consonants swallowed up into idle hums mostly just to keep the tempo. jesse hasn’t had a new thing for a while until now. he realized it only these past few days when he felt it toeing the line of excessive, the stupid ukelele pushing in between all the gaps of his normal daily routine and sometimes disrupting it. maybe that one doctor back in korea, the one who’d screened him for the big A, would have some sort of psychological explanation for his sudden unshakeable focus on learning how to play. not that jesse really gives a fuck.

who he does care about is his saint of a girlfriend, who’s been tolerating it—said she liked it, even. but jesse doesn’t know how long that patience is going to last, and even still he houses a small self-conscious fear of pushing it too far. to like something so much so openly is a type of vulnerability, maybe, even if it’s something as inconsequential and silly as the ukelele.

jesse is pretty sure it won’t mess with his football, at least. there’s too much riding on that now. he can feel it in the tensed line of his muscles every time he goes to practice, a pressure on his back with his fiancée’s health things and their financials taking a hit with the move. jesse feels like he still hasn’t yet fallen into his place in italy. a puzzle piece that still needs to be pushed and finagled into its hole, one that doesn’t seem quite right. he worries his new life will slip away between his fingers like sand—it seems scarily easy to let it. a few too many bad plays and maybe his management will reevaluate his worth in the team, revisit his signing, or maybe the sea will swallow him up if he wades too far in; maybe his sweat-soaked nightmares will all come true.

he strums through another hesitant verse from counting stars. for a moment, jesse lets himself feel good about the fact he’s already memorized the finger placements for them. he smiles faintly. the song is fitting for the kind of night sky that messina gives them, clear and chock-full of stars past the flowering trellises. he keeps his eyes up for a minute longer, playing c majors gently enough that they dissipate before they travel too far, contained inside his tiny bubble on the balcony.

then he yawns, putting his bruise-mottled football player legs down. tomorrow is early morning training and a full afternoon of field practice. he has begun to write his schedules down in cramped little lists, alongside new italian phrases he’s learned—il cartellino giallo, for one, yellow card—so tonight, jesse spends only a moment more outside. then, he turns around and slides the glass door open, making the short trek to their bedroom, placing his ukelele by the corner.

as quiet as he tries to be, his weight still makes the mattress creak.

[kylejsugarman]

baby is a really well-behaved kid who has a very (edward cullen voice) "its fine ill just. have to endure it" outlook on all of the trials and tribulations of childhood and life in general with the glaring exception of shots and anything to do with needles. her vaccination schedule got messed up during her first four years of life with all the stress and inconsistency of her initial upbringing, and by the time demi was able to circle back around to that stuff, baby was several shots/boosters behind. since kindergarten was starting soon, demi had to get her records updated fast, which unfortunately meant getting like eight shots over the course of two weeks. baby very understandably did Not Enjoy this experience (and broke down every time she had to get in the car for the next few weeks because she was positive they were going back to the doctor's office), so when demi gets the notification that it's time for baby to get a double-dose flu shot, she feels so defeated because it's going to be such a hard time. but this time around, she has someone in her corner, and even though it may occasionally make her feel terrible that she can't provide baby with the same level of comfort that he can, demi can't deny that she's super relieved when jesse agrees to take her for this appointment. he definitely starts to have his doubts about the whole thing when they roll up to the clinic and baby looks at him like he's taking her to the electric chair, which feels Awful. but demi trusts him to make this process easier and he wants her trust, he wants to do something right, so he just squeezes baby's hand and says "let's crush this and get some dairy queen". going back to the exam room feels weird and claustrophobic even though he's done this a million times with a million different doctors by now just to even make it to this point. maybe it's knowing that baby also probably has the same weird, claustrophobic feeling. when the time comes and the nurse tech unpacks the syringe, baby starts to cry, which reflexively opens a door inside of him that he thought would never open again. "hey, hey, baby," he says, sitting down on the exam table next to her, "it's okay, it's gonna be okay. just cover ur eyes, okay?? like this." he puts his hands over his eyes, the smell of varnish and waiting room hand sanitizer (and rot and blood). when he uncovers them, baby is looking up at him with that same amount of trust, that same conviction—only this time he knows that everything will be fine in the end. she covers her eyes dutifully (peekaboo) and he loops an arm around her and they both hold their breath until the needle is out and the bandaid is on. everything is fine. everyone is still here. this time, he was able to actually Do something. baby holds onto his hand the whole way out and dairy queen has never tasted so sweet.

[brytnoter]

[IMAGE ID: Original tumblr post from September 25th, 2021 by @dogz5 . Screenshots featuring a list of discord voice channels.]

Channels grouped together under the title "SEX VOICE CHANNELS"

apologetic-sex[text only] normal sex silly sex wild sex passionate sex survival sex healing sex diddles is feeling kind o… earnest clown sex gay sex hospital inducing sex weird sex efficient sex cringe sex with my fail… awful sex sweaty sex girl sex sex with your mom feminist sex vent sex masculine-sex epic sex outdoor sex frightening sex sickening sex frightfully horrific sex haunted sex bald sex hairy sex hairier sex harrier sex spine chilling sex creepy sex anguished sex disrespectful sex stinkyy sex group sex nonbinary sex womanly sex birthday-sex [demon face emoji]ORGY[demon face emoji] [private channel]

[A follow-up post from @dogz5, a screenshot of the text chat #apologetic-sex where the phrase "I'm sorry." fills the screen 31 times.]

[A follow-up post from @dogz5 on March 22nd, 2023]

"this post is going around again and its been a few years so thought i should update with some of the new sex channels tht have been added"

Channels grouped together under the title, "SEX 2"

dumber sex [text only] asexual sex i really really want sex … arid sex biome sex bread making sex chaste sex damp sex do a flip sex Dude! Nice sex! extinct megafauna sex evil sex good sex morally grey sex fucked up and evil sex powerslide sex sketeboard sex tacky sex wheelie sex ytp sexer XTREME SEX

su chan sex dyslexic sex dyslexic lex sexo especial pleasurable sex dumb sex better call sex default sex hobby tunneling sex structurally unsound s… osha certified sex suicide bait sex ant sex slimy sex southern hemisphere s… northern hemisphere s… intimidating sex monologuing sex intellectual sex belittling sex absent sex ambush sex harrowed groon sex fully clothed sex puppet sex balls in the condom sex house redecorating sex

Channels grouped under the title "EXPANDED SEX UNIVERSE" sex? christian sex damper sex devious sex Clean and organised sex girlsexbattle2 walden sex middle-aged sex Bulgarian sex [00/69] varnished sex garnished sex just a spot of vaseline … ambulance sex cooking 600 eggs sex sexless sex hot sex cold sex lukewarm sex luke sex HAPPY BIRTHDAY Rav… marathon sex triathlon sex pentathlon sex paralympic sex

JESSE WE NEED SEX pansexual sex sidecake sex carbunkle sex virgin sex alcoholic sex expansive sex delightful sex driving home sex brownie disaster style … passive aggressive sex rude to men on facebo… double sex quadruple sex sextuplet sex fingers in his ass sex therian sex sex files Christmas sex 9 pm sex two trucks having sex when willy sex? [private channel] sex for ANTS? one more death grips s…

Channels grouped under the title "FORBIDDEN SEX ZONE" no more death grips sex joyous cigar experienc… vengeful sex shoebill sex worthless sex my gym partner's a sex pervert sex knock the mario coins … radiant sex beloved sex flagellating sex respectful sex incomprehensible mop… pro lamps sex pathetic sex knock the minecraft or… a spot of sex spaghetti sex meatball sex sex 2 CEO of sex short king sex break room lesbian sex

personal sex bigg sloppy sandwich sex joker sex sinister sex hot dog sex gay sex explosion willy sex WILL he sex? when will he sex wig sex bloated sex romantic candlelit sex sex with 12 billion peo… struck by lightning sex softcore sex sockpuppet sex sex of all time lost sex found sex schrödinger's sex whata wrong with my s… sex gifs arena sex that sex hurted mobius strip sex my personal sex FUCK

Channels grouped under the title "SEASONING SEX" paprika sex salsa sex oregano sex cumin sex cummin sex cum in sex peppery sex pepperoni sex curry leaves sex ginger sex bayleef sex chilli powder sex cinnamon sex coriander sex koriander-sex peppercorn sex peppercum sex cardamom sex carda your mom sex matt smith sexalicious … cayenne sex star anise sex I want to kill my landlo…

basil sex wireless sex artistic sc unballed meat sex HAVE SEX! mountain climbing sex gougar sex fundamental sex wise sex graceful sex sex at sunset sex in the forest sex in the moonlight sex in the mud sex in the vineyard sex on the sand morose sex serendipitous sex barefoot sex columbo sex magic sex meow meow kitty cat s… onion sex employed sex

Channels grouped under the title "MORBIUS SEX" morbius sweep sex dead-grandpa-birthda… shower-sex hero of sex furniture building sex

Channels grouped under the title "EMERGENCY ONLY" bond-clean-sex [text only] [demon face emoji]ORGY[demon face emoji] [private channel] bond clean sex hospital finger wound sex sex from beyond the g…

[punkcherries]

lake being made of metal and living in arizona sounds like a recipe for 3rd degree burns

[womenscycling]

Jess Varnish is increasingly questioning whether British Cycling is serious about reform after it gagged her from speaking about the details of its internal report into her allegations of sexism and bullying. In December the 25-year-old raised the stakes in her battle with British Cycling by making a formal request to see the report – which cleared the former technical director Shane Sutton of eight of the nine charges against him – along with her performance data and every text and email message sent about her by staff. Varnish finally received a version of the report earlier this month but it was heavily redacted and was described by her lawyer, Simon Fenton, as “thin”, “shoddy” and “not containing the evidence to back up its conclusions”.

Jess Varnish questions British Cycling’s reform promises amid report secrecy | Sport | The Guardian

[mothinked]

Shit, that was... a lot to take in. Ellie's stomach went from being in knots to actively churning and her immediate thought was: "Damn it, Joel," except it was spoken aloud before she could even try to swallow the words. From what she could read from Abby, the anger was still very much there and the truth was, she had every right to feel that way over her loss. Just like Ellie had been angry and devastated over her time with Joel being cut short. Good fathers... well, they were about as rare as shooting stars.

Were you there in the room, Abby? Did you watch your dad fade away like I was made to watch you kill Joel? Did you see the light leave his eyes? Did you feel his blood splatter across your face? Did you ever hear his screams in your nightmares? In her own nightmares, Joel would cry out her name and beg for help while all she could do was ineffectually throw her body against that basement door over and over again. The doorknob never gave though. Ellie could never reach him. The screaming never stopped. Neither did the ringing in her head that muted everything out around her until a sudden piercing crescendo would cut through and return her to reality.

Her hands curled into fists at her sides until the prick of her nails digging into her palms urged her to relax the extremities. In an attempt to (literally) ground herself against the onslaught of the memories that would haunt her for the rest of her days, Ellie let her back press against the wall and slid down it until she could feel the cold tile floor through her jeans. Her arms slung over her knees as she pulled them up and she took several deep breaths like Abby had. The room was dark like that basement but it was better than being under fluorescent lights and putting them both on display.

She dragged her eyes from her boots to the blood stain. It was old and smeared, probably from the feeble attempt of cleaning it up. A man's life essence reduced to nothing more than varnish. Silence rang on between them for who knew how long until Ellie had finally gathered her thoughts again. The effort it took to keep her voice steady despite her lungs refusing to allow her full breaths was monumental. "... You're doing this for him." And that's when Ellie realized she could have rebuffed this personal onus of Abby's, refused her the closure from day one. Never knowing the truth.

She could have been petty and cruel and selfish by telling Abby to turn around and go back to where she came from if it had been years ago when the wounds were still fresh and the anger still simmered. Before she had time to come to terms with what happened and accepted the terrible, violent things she had done in the name of love, grief and hate. The strongest triad of human emotions to exist. Ellie's eyes were still settled on the blood stain but there was no focus or even acknowledgement behind them. She wasn't really seeing it anymore. The bigger picture was still forming in her head and more pieces were lining up. This was how their cycle of revenge had begun.

Her heart felt so heavy... Like a lead weight in her chest.

Ellie sighed and looked down at her hands that she linked together between her knees. Her lips parted and she made to say something but failed on the first attempt. And the second. God, she was tired. So, so tired. Empathy was not an emotion she ever expected to feel about something pertaining to Abby and the remorse alone was crippling enough. The guilt for what Joel did in that hospital, for how she killed Nora and then Owen and Mel... Jesse's death was on her, too. It had been enough to eat Ellie alive for years. But at some point she stopped letting it consume her for the sake of moving on. To live instead of just surviving. She could tell Abby hadn't gotten there yet.

It was hard to let go of the past when it was what molded a person into who they were in the present—for better or worse. Ellie knew that going with Abby to Catalina wouldn't be atonement for the pain and the damage she inflicted in Seattle. She couldn't change what was already done but she could do something good, couldn't she? The struggles, the fighting and the losses... it didn't have to be for nothing after all. Finally, Ellie was able to find her voice once more. It was quiet and it cracked at one point, much to her chagrin. She managed to lift her head after a minute and look directly at Abby. "I'm sorry." Her chin trembled slightly before her jaw tightened and ceased it. "I'm sorry that Joel took your father from you." And she meant it.

Being vulnerable like this was like exposing her throat to a blade that could slit it at any moment but it was something she wanted to say regardless if Abby would accept it or not. "We'll finish what was started here," she said in what sounded like a promise. "For Jerry. Marlene. For everyone who died for the cause and fought for the future." She dropped her gaze back to her feet before sucking in a deep breath and rising from the floor slowly without looking at Abby again. Best to give the other woman whatever private time she needed in that room. Meanwhile, Ellie needed to breathe air that didn't smell of antiseptic and dust. Setting up the old campfire out front would be the only spot she would be able to get any sleep that night and so this was now her goal.

To say Abby was lost in her own world was an understatement. Memories played in her head like movies, every single detail just as memorable as the day it had happened. Almost every single room on this side of the hospital had something linked to it. Many a days (and nights) she had spent with her friends. Trainings, studies, or hangouts carried them all around the pediatric wing and surrounding departments. Tears of laughter and sorrow had fallen. Hearts had fluttered or been broken. This place carried so much history and it was unfortunate that all of that had been overshadowed by the events of that day.

There was no acknowledgement from Abby as Ellie entered the room or when she spoke. She heard her, saw her out of the corner of her eye. The words registered but she didn’t care. In this moment? Fuck Santa Barbara. There was enough trauma in Saint Mary’s without having to recall their showdown on the coast. It wasn’t lost on her that she’d been let go but that wasn’t important right now. She was focused on trying to reconnect with the good pieces of her past in here - her father. It did strike her as odd though that the significance of the room seemed to be lost on her counterpart.

“Do you know how long it takes someone to bleed out if you stab their neck here?” she questioned, lifting one hand to tap the side of her neck to indicate where exactly she was talking about. “If you get both the jugular and carotid artery, couple minutes if that.” Her words were emphasized by using her foot to motion towards the dark stain that was to her left. In other words, you were fucked if you didn’t get immediate help. Just something she had learned from her dad when it came to wound treatment of the neck. He had stressed the importance of pressure and treatment when it came to neck injuries for the best chance of survival and yet there wasn’t a god damn thing she could have done to help him.

“He killed the surgeon and then he took you from that table,” she nodded her head in the direction of the operating table before continuing, “and he left.” By this point, Abby still hadn’t looked at her. Ellie represented everything she had lost in this world and it was amplified to an extreme being in this place, much more this room. Silence came over her once more and she took in deep breaths through her nose to steady the anger that was slowly building deep within the pit of her stomach. Sure she was angry, but she was also exhausted. The toll this building was taking on her was immense. With gritted teeth, she pointed out the stain one final time before her hand dropped into her lap. “That was the one person in this place that could do the surgery. Dr. Jerry Anderson.” There was a long pause as she worked to find the strength required to speak the next words out loud. “He was my dad.” It was only then that she finally brought herself to look up at Ellie, her eyes both a mixture of pain and a rage that would never truly fade away.

Her own words were like poison to her, beyond bitter and hard to swallow. The events at Saint Mary’s had sent her down a a brutal, yet in her mind, necessary path. Revenge had been her sole purpose for more than 4 years and now it was all on the table.

[scoopsgf]

reckless abandon ch. 11 is up!!!

summary:

“I know,” Jess agrees, softer now. “But this is where I’m supposed to be.”

“Well, me too.”

Jess studies her for a minute, all scars that shouldn’t be there and chipped nail varnish and uneven ear piercings because she’d done them herself with a sewing needle and an apple slice. “No,” he says eventually, sure of this. Blows smoke out of the crooked half of his mouth. “You belong anywhere. The world is your oyster or whatever the fuck.”

Rory snorts. “And what does that make me? A pearl?”

As in: something of great value. Something beautiful and iridescent and precious. Jess flicks ash off the end of his cig. Says, “Something like that.”

She doesn’t buy it of course, but what else is new? The Ferris wheel keeps turning and the balloons keep escaping the weak grips of kids and husbands and wives keep swinging their arms as they walk along the beach, and he keeps staring, keeps loving. As per fucking usual.

[pakcricwiz]

Jess Varnish loses appeal against British Cycling employment tribunal verdict

First employment tribunal ruled Varnish was not an employee

Controversially dropped from GB programme for Rio Olympics

Jess Varnish’s appeal against an employment tribunal ruling has been dismissed. The 29-year-old lost her initial employment case against British Cycling in January 2019, which ruled that the relationship between athlete and governing body was more akin to a student receiving a grant than an employer/employee arrangement.

She won the right to an appeal in December last year, and her appeal was heard in May, but Mr Justice Choudhury has ruled that the initial tribunal’s decision was correct.

Continue reading... from Blogger https://ift.tt/32i6XUW

[vigilantebullshit]

the truth is, jessica knows all of this. of course, she knows that carol cares and that no matter how callous her words had seemed, it's never been much worse than the things jj have said to her or the other people she really did care about. she'd only wanted to talk some sense into her. but, you could still know all these things and be hurt, and do some irrational shit. besides, self-loathing and anger have her wrapped around their wretched fingers, rewiring all the logical parts of her brain that beg otherwise.

she's silent for a beat or two after jd's attempts at an explanation. jessica should really be grateful that she hasn't dropped her ass and given up on her. the fact that she's gone so far as to seek her out and confront her means that she gave a rat's ass what happened to her even if jj didn't give her any reason to.

but, she's too focused on wanting to be left alone / wanting the world to forget she exists and to let her drink herself stupid so she could forget the world exists too.

" my phone's dead. " as if that were a valid reason for her state of incommunicado. " can't find my charger. " you're not even trying at this point, jones.

" do i look like i want or need your help ? and if you're trying to help carol--- " she knocks back another drink, the sting settling into a warmth that could lull her straight to sleep if she'd let it. " i think she'll manage to get by. "

the smooth bottom of a glass scrapes against varnished wood as she's passed another shot.

" why can't you ever just leave it the hell alone, jess ? "

❛ Yeah, of course I've been, Jess ! ❜ Oh, God. She could feel her blood boiling. Jessica had finally mustered up enough courage rage to confront her friend after weeks of radio silence. She threw herself down onto the barstool next to JJ, sitting with enough force that the top spun around ― definitely took some of the heat from her fire momentarily. But aside from a slight stumble as she steadied herself, Jessica continued on.

❛ What part of answering your phone don't you get ? ❜ She wanted to spit her words back, to be as callous as the woman next to her was. But she couldn't, she was worried senseless. JJ was good at avoiding her ― A PI knows all a PI's tricks, after all. Especially if they'd worked together as they had. She swore she'd have easier time tracking a cryptid. The movement she was able to track ― liquor store, bar, back to the liquor store, home, repeat ― just flat out scared her.

Gesturing to the bartender, Jessica ordered herself a couple shots of whiskey, downing them as soon as they came to prepare herself for the inevitable harshness.

❛ Carol knows she fucked up. She didn't mean to make it look like she didn't care, she just. . . ❜ Jess drifted off, frustrated. They both knew how Carol was ― but the fact their joint custody friend wasn't here certainly didn't help matters. A last minute call to space, she wasn't even on the planet anymore.

That didn't matter, though.

Jess ordered another shot.

❛ She fucked up. She's an idiot for it, her own words. But why am I getting the cold shoulder ? ❜ She couldn't help but ask, slamming the whiskey back the moment it was slid to her. ❛ I'm just trying to help. ❜

[heliotropehotch]

as it was - a.h. x fem!reader

Request by @greenprisca​: Hi can I request a Hotch x reader fic! The reader is always there for hotch and jack (took care of them even when Haley was alive), but they both snap at her. Telling her she’s not Haley/his mom. (Y/N) takes a break from them and goes out with a brother or family member that’s a single parent, and the boys see it wrong.

a/n: i contacted tumblr a couple of days ago about my tag issues but i haven’t heard back. boosting this fic, if you like it, could really help tumblr fix whatever issue it’s having with my accounts. its very frustrating, and is making me not wanna post right now, so i might take a bit of time off while i wait for this issue to fix, and while i wait for more requests! ilysm thank you for your support!

Masterlist

author: abby <3

words: 1667

warning: fighting, yelling, mention of past character death

It shouldn’t have happened the way it did. 

The collapse of a perfect world was triggered by a caring act. The end of a long day, the whisper of words turned to shouts, love turned into regret. 

Aaron Hotchner had come back to his home late that night, the smell of dinner flooding through to his nostrils. He smiled, a gesture he missed when he was away on case. He called for Y/N, a presence he had hoped to see. Instead of the giggles of his son and her that usually met his eyes, he was met with quiet, so he headed to his son’s room.

She was moving to close Jack’s bedroom door, having just gotten him to sleep. Her eyes were tired, holding a sadness he had not seen in a long time. He quirked his eyebrow, moving to speak. She shook her head, a finger going to her mouth as she motioned him into the living room.

“How was your day, hun?” she sighed, stirring the pot of food she had made. 

“It was work,” he took his suit jacket off, draping it over a chair before hugging her body from behind. “Did something happen today?”

“I think you’ll need to talk to Jack tomorrow. He yelled at me tonight,” she said sadly, head swimming with thoughts.

“He did what?” he asked concerned, he hadn’t seen his son angry before. 

“I was just trying to put him to bed, but I guess he was having a hard time,” she spoke, recalling the hour before. “So I started humming that song Haley used to sing to get him to sleep, Hey Jude.”

“What?” His body tensed around hers as she continued speaking. 

“I don’t know.” She remained oblivious to his actions. “I thought it would help, but he just got more upset. He shouted saying I wasn’t his mom and started crying. I just held him until he fell asleep.” 

He retracted his arms from around her, hands curling into fists. “You’re not.”

She paused her movements to the dining room to set out plates for the both of them. She asked confused, “What?”

“You’re not his mom,” Aaron’s voice rang stern, anger boiling behind his steely eyes. “You’re not Haley. 

Y/N took a step back, scared of the tone, the implication of the words not said pushing against his lips. “Aaron,” her voice was confused, hurt. “I know that.”

“Then stop trying to act like you are.” He pulled his tie off, chucking it across the couch. “What made you think it was a good idea to do that? Stop trying to be more than what you are.”

“And what exactly am I?” Her voice became louder, not caring about the way it echoed through the hall. 

“A distraction,” he bit out, jaw clenched. “Nothing more than a sound to fill the silence.”

She huffed out a teary, dark chuckle, looking away from the man she’d give up everything for. She grabbed her things, keys jingling as her adrenaline began to wear. “Well, thank you, Hotch,” she bit out, a sarcastic smile on her face. “For having the decency to let me know now. Dinner’s on the fucking stove.”

The silence that was there before her hung in the air as he watched her shut the door, as she watched her leave.

The next morning, Jack Hotchner woke up rubbing sleep out of his eyes, clutching a stuffed animal Y/N had given him for his birthday. He frowned as he saw his father making breakfast in the kitchen.

“Daddy?” he pressed the fuzzy elephant to his chest. “Where’s Y/N?”

Aaron sighed at his son’s confused voice, setting the spatula he was using for pancakes down. He tried to mask his own emotions with the excitement of seeing his son. “Good morning, Buddy! Y/N went home for a bit, she had some other things to do.”

“But I thought this was her home.” Jack’s small little eyebrows furrowed with more confusion. 

“It is,” Hotch knelt down to get on his son’s level. “She just needed some alone time, bud.”

Jack’s eyes began to well up, striking his father’s heart. “Is it my fault?”

Aaron felt his stomach drop with guilt. “Of course not Jack.”

“But I yelled at her.” His lip quivered. “I said she wasn’t mommy.”

“I know buddy-”

“But I don’t care!” Jack was sobbing into his dad’s shoulder now. “I love Y/N, daddy.”

Aaron pressed his distressed son into his chest, shushing his cries against his casual shirt. His own heart ached with regret and words he wanted to take back. He admitted the words he had yet to say, as if to give himself some comfort. “I love her too, Jack. She’ll be back soon, I promise.”

After Jack had calmed down, Hotch decided to spend his day off trying to ease both of their minds. He took Jack to the zoo, carefully avoiding the elephants, and spent what felt like hours staring at the waddling penguins. Jack insisted on getting Y/N an apology stuffed penguin. Then he promised a trip to the park with what Jack called the ‘cool jungle gym.’ 

Jack ran towards the swings as Hotch reclined back into one of the park benches. He smiled to himself momentarily, as he watched his once sad son giggle with the other kids. His grin fell though, as he realized she should be enjoying the day with them. 

He wasn’t sure if Y/N would wait for him, and he honestly didn’t blame her if she didn’t. He had put her through so much, after having cared for both him and Jack when Haley died, and long before she passed as well. He loved Y/N but she couldn’t be blamed for being hurt at the things he had said, and would never mean. 

His eyes glazed over the park, letting out a solemn sigh at the peacefulness that contrasted the interior of his heart. And then he saw her.

Her arms were wrapped around a man, one Hotch hadn’t remembered seeing before, although it felt familiar. Around her own legs, a boy, about Jack’s age, had clung himself to Y/N’s knees, looking up pleadingly. The sweet smile he thought was reserved for his family had worked its way across her face. He almost missed his own son bounding up to where he had planted himself on the bench. 

“Daddy?” Jack called out. “What are you looking at?”

“Hmm?” Hotch said distractingly.

“Who are those people with Y/N? Doesn’t she wanna hang out with us?” Aaron was too preoccupied, watching Y/N pressed a kiss to the man’s cheek. 

“Can I go say hi to her?” he pleaded, tugging on his dad’s hand. 

“Not now, Jack,” he sighed, pulling his now pouting son into his lap. “I think she might be busy, bud.”

Days had passed, without a word from Y/N. Aaron had picked up the phone hundreds of times at that point, wanting to say anything to bring her back into their lives. He had been relying on Jess for help taking care of Jack when he was at work, and had therefore endured a lecture he knew he deserved. 

He got in his car to drive home, sighing at the empty passenger seat next to him. His eyes landed on the stuffed penguin he had bought to please Jack. He sighed once more, knowing he had to do something. 

The front door of Y/N’s apartment was daunting, unfamiliar. It wasn’t like he hadn’t been to her place before, but Jack was right when he said their place was her home. She had basically moved in with them, so the varnish that covered the wooden door only seemed threatening of the barrier he had been putting up. He raised his fist, and knocked on the door. 

Her eyes widened at the distraught man in front of her, promptly turning into a frown with the recognition of Hotch. She moved to close the door again. 

“Y/N, please,” he begged, stoic expression long gone. “I’m sorry.”

“Aaron-”

“I don’t expect you to forgive me. I hurt you, I know that. But I didn’t mean it.” She stood still, allowing him to speak, and he took a step closer to her, reaching for her hand. “I love you, Y/N. You were never a distraction, only a relief. There’s so much I couldn’t have done with you by our side. We both know you’re not Haley, but I like you better as you are, as someone who cares for my kid like her own, as someone who cares for me when I forget to do it myself.” 

Her hiccups of tears flooded the silence that came when he paused, his hand moving up to her cheek. “If I could take it all back, before I said those words, I would in an instant. Just as it was, just as you were. I just hope you still hold your love for me after what I’ve done.”

Her arms wrapped around his neck, pressing his nose into her neck as he breathed her in. She sighed, relieved to have one of the Hotchner’s back in her arms. “I love you, Aaron, even when you decide to act like a dick.”

He chuckled against her, squeezing her body against his before pulling back. Brushing away her tears again, he kissed her forehead, making a promise to himself that he wouldn’t let her go again. Her giggle, brought him out of his soft trance.

“Did you bring me a penguin?”

He smiled sheepishly, pressing the stuffed animal into her palm. “Jack got it as an apology gift to you.”

She pressed it against her chest, clutching it the same way his son had days before. “That’s one sweet kid you’ve got there.”’

“One who desperately wants to see you,” he chuckled again.

“Well,” she said, grabbing her purse and keys. “Let’s go home then.”

[macybeckham7]

Could you please do a long blurb with Jesse and how the reader and hope have a girls day out where you take her shopping and nails and hair done and then you get back to jesse’s and then he sees how long his two girls get along thx

He loved when you suggested to have a girls day out with Hope, you took her shopping getting some new clothes and jewellery. You went to a salon to get your nails done, you both getting matching pink sparkly varnish and got your hair done. You took a few photos to update Jesse but it wasn’t until you both got home was when he saw how much fun you two had. Hope was so happy and hyper as she couldn’t stop talking as she wanted to tell her daddy everything. Jesse pulling his two girls in for a hug.

[owl-with-a-pen]

there have been so many set pictures of green Brainy recently that I'm starting to wonder if that could be a semi-permanent thing? (which I'm not complaining about, Jesse looks great always) so how about something where Brainy decides to live without the image inducer and Kara and Nia are supportive of him

I've had an idea for this on my mind for ages and as the show's explanation has been so far a tad disappointing, here's my take 😉

“See anything?”

Nia jerked her chin from her upturned fist where she’d nearly nodded off. She blinked groggily, rubbing at her eyes as she tried to re-focus on the radar in front of her. The technology had been a dual effort on J’onn and Brainy's part, designed to flag any threats with peculiar energy signatures. Metas, alien super powers, fifth dimensional magic - if it was out of the ordinary, chances were this thing would find them.

Nia cleared her throat, trying desperately to come across as astute instead of asleep. She ran her index finger across the radar’s most recent readings output. “According to this, I think we’re in the clear.” She rolled backwards in her chair, only to be met by the jarring resistance of Kara’s leg a moment later. Nia tipped her head up to meet her friend, fixing her with an exhausted pout. “Although, I bet I could do a wider search from the dreamscape,” she said, fluttering her lashes. “Just five minutes?”

Kara’s lips crumpled into a smile at that. She snorted, patting Nia’s shoulder sympathetically. “Something tells me if I let you do that, I won’t be able to wake you up again.”

Nia glared at her in affront. “Hey! It’s not my fault I don’t have a superhuman alcohol tolerance.” She rolled her eyes. “Unlike some people.”

Kara scoffed. “No one asked you to drink that much on a work night.”

Nia twisted in her seat accusingly. “Two words. Penalty. Shots.” She screwed her eyes shut, pressing her head miserably into the chair’s backrest. “Lena knew that the object of the game was to avoid those shots, right?”

“Lena does love a competition,” Kara mused, folding her arms. She shifted awkwardly. “But, uh, there is one thing she loves a little more.”

“Scotch,” Nia chimed in at the exact same moment as Kara, earning another sympathetic wince from the Kryptonian.

Nia only groaned, wheeling herself back towards the sweet horizontal comfort of the Tower’s computer desk. It’d been a long time since she’d had a hangover this bad. Sure, she’d gone to work in some pretty sorry states in the past, but turning up at the Tower like this? This was a first she had absolutely no intention of repeating.

Honestly, if she hadn't been the only Super Friend Kara had been able to get a hold of that morning, she’d still be in bed right now.

Nia ducked her head into her folded arms, relaxing into the inviting coolness that the varnished wood provided. “I can feel you gloating from here, y’know,” she mumbled.

Kara spluttered. “I’m not gloating!”

“Please. You know if Brainy had been there, we would’ve wiped the floor with you.”

“Hey, no – no way.” Kara laughed dismissively. “Danvers Sisters was ahead on the board last week!” Then, under her breath, she added, “And we still are.”

Nia raised her head, ignoring the alarming sensation that the world had tipped suddenly onto its side. “See? Gloating!”

Before Kara could try and defend herself, she stopped short, falling totally silent. When Nia turned to her in question, she found that Kara appeared to be listening to something intently, her head half inclined towards the elevator doors.

When those doors began to pull open, Nia understood why.

Inside the elevator stood Brainy, hands raised awkwardly towards his chest. He fiddled listlessly with his ring, seemingly unaware that the elevator had since reached its destination.

Nia’s stomach sank.

She hadn’t seen Brainy since he’d told her he wouldn’t be able to make game night the day before. Sure, there’d been coffee and a breakfast burrito waiting for her come morning, but Brainy had been and gone long before Nia had woken that morning.

Although Brainy was generally far earlier to rise than Nia, since leaving the DEO, he’d had the luxury of spending most of his mornings with her before they headed out to the Tower together. Sometimes, he’d even walk her to work or, if she was running particularly late, fly her.

He was anxious about something, that much was clear, and from the windswept nature of his dark hair, Nia figured he’d taken to the skies in an effort to clear his head. Although, as he continued to stand there, massaging his ring finger in vexed silence, she knew that it had done little to help. Whatever thoughts he was harbouring, they were obviously weighing pretty heavily on his shoulders.

It was just, it didn’t make sense. Brainy had told her that he’d been with J’onn last night, helping with some repairs to the Tower’s cloaking mechanism. Usually, tinkering with tech was cathartic for her boyfriend and so unless the repairs had gone catastrophically wrong, Nia couldn’t understand what could have happened between yesterday afternoon and now to put Brainy into this sort of a headspace.

But she was going to find out.

“Hey Brainy,” Kara said, in a gentle tone that suggested she’d also noticed Brainy’s skittish hesitancy, “we were just talking about how much we missed you at game night.”

Brainy stiffened, for the first time noticing that he was no longer alone. He offered them both an apologetic smile before striding forward, keeping his eyes trained towards the ground. “Yes, about that,” he muttered, wringing his hands together. “I have a confession to make.”

Hangover all but forgotten, Nia quickly stood from her chair, joining Kara at her side. She shared a look of concern with her before clearing her throat. “What’s up?”

Brainy grimaced. “Yesterday,” he began, tapping his ring thoughtlessly against the palm of his open hand, “when I said I couldn’t come to game night because I was helping J’onn at the Tower. That was not entirely... accurate.”

“Oh?” Kara frowned. “You weren’t with J’onn?”

“Oh no, I was,” Brainy said quickly. He bit his lip. “We were just… elsewhere.”

“You know you can tell us anything,” Nia said seriously, taking a half step forward. She knew better than anyone not to crowd Brainy when he was nervous, but that didn’t make it any easier to tame the gut instinct to go to him the second he so much as looked uncomfortable. “No more secrets, remember?” she prompted instead, catching his eye however briefly. “Wherever you were—”

Brainy folded his arms across his chest restlessly. “I-” He gritted his teeth, closing his eyes. “J’onn invited me to one of his group meetings, with his alien friends who had decided to relinquish the use of their image inducers.” When he opened his eyes, they were shimmering with moisture. “Since coming to this century, I have tried to blend in. At first, I thought of it as an act of consideration for those around me. Humans who may have felt uncomfortable seeing an alien in their true visage when the concept is still so new to this time period.” He motioned towards his face unthinkingly before his lips thinned into a fine, distasteful line. “Now, I recognise many of those humans harbour negative feelings for anyone that is different from them.”

“You’re preaching to the choir,” Nia said with a half-smile. “And I understand why you felt like you needed to keep wearing it, but that shouldn’t be a choice others make for you. It should be yours.”

“Is that what you wanted to talk about?” Kara asked softly.

Brainy’s head shot up at that. He looked between them both, straightening his back. “I-I wanted you to be the first to know,” he admitted. “From today, I no longer wish to live under the pretences of the image inducer’s illusion. I want people to see me for who I am.” He smirked, shaking his head. “I have felt so uncertain of myself for so long, and perhaps it was easier to hide behind the inducer when I had been inhibited… but I am proud of what I have achieved to reach this point, I do not want to disguise that.”

“And you shouldn’t,” Nia said immediately, taking an impulsive step forward. “We support you, Brainy.”

“One hundred per cent,” Kara agreed.

Brainy nodded, sucking in a deep breath as he reached a hand towards the side of his face, pinching the small disk of his image inducer between finger and thumb. The moment it was released, his human appearance washed away like a gentle tide, replaced instead with vibrant emerald skin and white blond hair as fine as freshly spun gold.

For a long moment, Nia forgot how to breathe.

He was beautiful, so beautiful, and as often as Brainy had shown her the same sentiment through poetry highlighting every aspect of her beauty both in the physical and the abstract, Nia had never been quite as eloquent with her own words.

Maybe it didn’t matter, because she was certain her expression gave her away. Even if it didn’t, the way she stumbled towards him seconds later certainly did. She stopped just short of bumping into him, so close that she could feel the heat of him against her skin. She lifted her hand, relaying with her eyes exactly what she wanted to do. Brainy nodded minutely, lowering his head so that she could run her fingers along the side of his jaw, cupping his chin against the palm of her hand. Brainy’s dark eyes held her steadily now, no longer skittish, but instead static in the moment, seeing nothing but her.

“There you are,” she breathed, brushing her lips gently against his as she linked her free hand through his green fingers, squeezing tight. Her heart fluttered when Brainy returned the kiss just as enthusiastically, taking her arm with his other hand.

When they finally broke apart, Nia made extra care to run her fingers through Brainy’s golden locks before withdrawing her hand. Seeing the smile that lit up Brainy’s face in response only made her grin all the wider. She could have stayed there looking at him all day...

But, this wasn’t just a moment for the two of them to share.

As Nia stepped away, she saw Kara come forward in her peripheral, hands folded respectfully in front of her.

“Brainy,” Kara said, her voice choked with emotion. “I am so proud of you.”

Any residual tension Brainy had been holding seemed to unspool the moment Kara spoke. “You are?”

“Of course!” Kara beamed, taking his arms. When Brainy showed no resistance, she went in for the full hug, wrapping her arms tightly around his back. Brainy settled into the embrace almost immediately, huffing out a soft sigh into Kara’s hair.

Hangover well and truly forgotten, Nia found a spot for herself in the hug, tucking her face into Brainy’s shoulder. Brainy welcomed the contact, closing his eyes as he totally relaxed into the group hug.

Brainy had overcome a lot to be here, and not just to appear as he was, but to be in this century entirely. Nia knew Brainy’s introduction to this time had been far from smooth, and even though she’d done everything to make him feel settled, the constant use of his inducer even at home only served as a reminder that he hadn’t found total peace here yet.

Nia had had the fortune of being openly encouraged to live as her true self, and more recently Kara had taught her the importance of embracing her alien heritage as well. But the face Brainy wore now was new not just to the 21st century, but the 31st as well, and just like Kara, she was so incredibly happy that Brainy had found the courage through J’onn’s help to remove his inducer for good.

She knew it’d be a bumpy ride, but she didn’t care. No matter what, she was with him. No matter what, she loved him. And – when he was ready – the whole family he’d made here would stand just as proudly by his side, too.

[cognacdelights]

all hands on deck [preview]

a part two to rock the boat

As she retrieved one of the ice-cool, condensation-laced beers from the very centre of the wooden table, Kenzie peered up at him with her mischievous, amber eyes — gently nudging his ankle with the very tip of her well-worn, off-white Converse, “don’t get too comfortable, Maybank, we’ve got a score to settle.” A playful smirk upturned the corners of her full, rosy lips as her languid gaze travelled slowly from the teal-eyed, shaggy-haired blonde, over her exposed shoulder, to the now unoccupied pool table that stood in the very centre of the slight platform beside them.

A low, throaty, but hearty chuckle rippled through his robust, t-shirt clad chest as he took a nonchalant sip of his cold, bitter-tasting beer, a similar, sprightly smirk quirking the corners of his thin, chapped lips upwards, “what score? I win every time.” His tone was light-heartedly incredulous as the broad flats of his toned, squared-off shoulders rose and fell with each soft but amused laugh. He felt the burning glare of her scolding, unimpressed expression pierce his skin, before giving a lackadaisical gesture towards the vacant pool table with one hand — the other, calloused palm coiled around the green-tinted glass of his beer bottle in a loose but secure hold. “Fine, I’ll play along, but don’t go all sulky on me when you lose for the millionth time.”

“I don’t sulk,” Kenzie rebutted his statement adamantly as she swiftly stood from the uncomfortably rigid, rickety chair — adjusting the slightly bunched-up denim of her enticingly short, black shorts, “I’m just not enthusiastic about your win.” Taking her freshly-opened bottle of Heineken with her, she made her way through the cramped, obstacle course of rogue tables and chairs — audaciously slinking her way through the bustling crowd of bar-goers as she did so. “But I’m going to win this time, I’m telling you. You’re going down, Jesse James Maybank. You’re gonna eat a big, ol’ slice of humble pie.”

His attentive, cerulean eyes fixated almost instantly on her voluptuous, perky ass — that was perfectly accentuated by the tight, but rigid, denim material of her shorts — as he obediently followed suit, observing intently as her hips swayed with a subtle seductiveness, “I know what I’d rather be eating instead.” His voice was deep and gravelly, and an air of flirtatiousness echoed throughout his suggestive words before dissipating into the mindless, drunken chattering that lingered within the background. He watched on, entertained, as her neck snapped backwards with a rapid motion — her dark, terracotta eyes boring deep into his with a fire-like glower, serving as an unspoken warning to honour their previous agreement. A second, imperious grin consumed his sun-drenched complexion as he stared back haughtily, “some shrimp and grits. Loser buys.”

“Get your wallet ready,” she uttered lowly, returning her focused vision back to the unoccupied pool table before her.

“For what? I’m not going to be the one buying dinner tonight, sweetcheeks,” he quipped a playfully sarcastic response as he casually discarded of his freshly-opened beer atop the high, wooden ledge littered in thin, cardboard beer mats that ran the length of the entire back wall. With the same brazenly dauntless smirk contorting his defined, stubble-lined features, he picked up one of the pink, well-used chalk cubes that sat absent-mindedly beside his beer, before coolly reaching for one of the longer, varnished pool cues and masterfully rubbing the indented chalk cube against the very tip of the pool cue, “I’d say ladies first, but the scratches and bite marks on my back say that you’re everything but so I think it’s fair game if I take the first shot.”

“Shark. Bait,” Kenzie spat lowly but meaningfully through a tightly clenched jaw and gritted teeth — her tongue abundantly laced with venom as she sent an evident warning shot at the tousle-haired blonde.