#anything but banking metaphors for flirting

[promptling]

STAR TREK: INTO DARKNESS ( 2011 ) change pronouns as needed.

that was our ride!

what the hell did you take?

we have to do this now.

if we're doing this, we've got to do it now.

you sure you don't want me to go instead?

i was kidding.

they're trying to kill us!

i can't hold this position.

i am, surprisingly, alive.

i can save her.

what did you say?

who are you?

you're not actually going to answer that, are you?

you filed a report?

are you giving me attitude?

i am expressing multiple attitudes simultaneously.

you have any idea what a pain in the ass you are?

what's the lesson to be learned here?

you think the rules don't apply to you because you disagree with them.

what was i supposed to do, let them die?

you think you're infallible.

it's a pattern with you.

why should i listen?

you don't listen to anybody but yourself.

you got your ass handed to you.

i don't know what to say.

it's fortunate that the consequences were not more severe.

do you understand why i went back for you?

the truth is, i'm going to miss you.

tomorrow's too late.

spit it out, don't be shy.

there is no regulation that condemns a man to die without a trial.

i'm not going to take ethics lessons from a robot!

this action is morally wrong.

i wasn't asking for your opinion.

i don't have time for a lecture.

this is clearly a military operation.

is that what we are now?

i'd rather not talk about it.

your ears burning?

let's go get this son of a bitch.

i was simply attempting to use your vernacular to convey an idea.

you don't rob a bank when the getaway car has a flat tire.

enough with the metaphors.

remind me never to piss you off.

i would prefer to discuss this in private.

are you really gonna do this right now?

i'm not the only one who's upset with you.

don't drag me into this.

you mistake my choice not to feel as a reflection of my not caring.

the truth is precisely the opposite.

i am here to help you.

you and your people are in danger.

how the hell do you know that?

i will consider that an apology. and i will consider that apology.

the nerve of that guy!

i am not doing that man any favors.

are you out of your corn-fed mind?

you're actually going to listen this guy?

don't agree with me, it makes me very uncomfortable.

when were you going to tell me that?

you're much cleverer than your reputation suggests.

may i remind you, you are not there to flirt.

you're going to want to see this.

you are a murderer!

my crew is my family.

you already knew that, didn't you?

i don't take your meaning.

i'll do anything you want. just let them live.

we cannot fire and we cannot flee.

the enemy of my enemy is my friend.

i have no idea what i'm supposed to do.

you coming with me or not?

just give me two seconds!

try not to get shot.

your path is yours to walk, and yours alone.

did you defeat him?

i got you, i got you.

you'd better get down here.

that's a nice move.

i'm scared, _______.

how do you choose not to feel?

there's too much damage.

go get him.

you saved my life.

it's nice to have a family.

i defer to your good judgement.

[marta-bee]

I'd add The Blind Banker to the list. I know, there's a strong element of racism about it which may make it a no-go for some fans. & I won't try to tell fans they have to go back to it if that bothers them too much. I watch a lot of old police procedurals, so perhaps I'm just good at compartmentalizing. Whatever the reason, that stuff did bother me but I could still enjoy the other parts of the episode.

Which actually has some really funny scenes. John seething a bit on the pavement about being left out while Sherlock nearly gets choked by their suspect. John's truly awful (but LOL-worthy) attempts to flirt with Sarah earlier in the episode. Sherlock poking around the bank office like some sort of awkward prairie-dog. The whole fight at the beginning and John coming back to tsssk over blade-knicked furniture, and of course the whole row-with-a-machine thing. It's also very touching, those first steps into friendship, the so-very-married-three-days-in of "take my card." And, speaking as a Johnlocker here, the whole metaphor of pottery being meant to be touched... well. It's all very romantic without being overbearing. I loved that aspect of it.

These are two men who killed and covered up said killing within, what, forty-eight hours of meeting each other? Yet there are still missteps and awkwardness and tension between them. I loved that.

Also, as an ACD fan, I love love loved their take on "The Adventure of the Dancing Men," because it's really the only way of modernizing it I find comprehensible. I do like the concept of Hilton bringing about his own undoing by refusing to let Elsie handle her own problems; but the drive to keep her past hidden when she hadn't personally done anything wrong, the focus on honor, never really felt real and convincing to me. So what they did with Soo-lin is actually quite fascinating and gives her more agency than I think Elsie had in the original. It made sense to me how she could end up painted in that particular corner.

I don't know. It's imperfect, certainly, but it's also a fun and engaging story, both in the realm of adaptation and just as an exciting and funny lark in its own right. Especially with so few episodes available, it's a shame to pass it over entirely.

What do you think is the most underrated Sherlock episode?

Thanks for the ask, nonny!

Hmm, hard question for me. I think there's several that are overrated, but underrated....

The episode I always go back to for rewatch is A Study in Pink - maybe that one? Since it's the first episode it tends to get forgotten, and the later episodes are SO good; but the narrative is so sharp, you're instantly drawn into these characters and their adventures, it's almost perfect as a first episode. I have a policy that I watch the first three episodes of a new show, because in the first one, the creators are still "finding their way", but ASIP is a powerhouse right out of the gate. Underrated only because it gets pushed down the list by what comes later.

[tommyspeakycap]

Can you do a jealous John stones please 🥺🥺🖤

jealous stonesy coming right up! feel like john is the quick to get jealous type :) this gif does things to me

Black Tie Turbulence

John’s hand is both a constant and comforting presence on your lower back from the moment you both stepped out the car. He’s careful with his feet to not step on the bottom of your beautiful long dress that was matched in colour to that of his delicately placed pocket square.

“Aren’t you two a sight?”

John leads the turn so you can both face Kyle and Annie, also both dressed to the nines and offering each of you a glass of sparkling champagne. “The heels are already a killer,” you joke, making Annie giggle immediately. Heels were a must for almost all black ties, but more so when your boyfriend is an absolute giant.

It was a charity ball that a good few England and their players had been invited to, mostly in order to try and sweet talk the donors into giving more of their money than they originally would. You had gotten used to these events and liked to think you had actually gotten very good at sweetly chatting the vendors into emptying the metaphorical pockets. John wasn’t the world biggest fan of these events, but he knew they had to come hand in hand with the joy of doing what he loves each and every day. Plus, he gets to see you all dressed up. That’s good enough for him.

“I’m gonna go see if I can grab another drink.” You tell John, leaning up to press a chaste kiss into his jaw. He nods, eyes following you intently as you walk off with your heels clinking and dress swaying. “Earth to Stones.” Harry Kane waves, clicking his fingers to get the defenders attention. John shakes his head with a soft chuckle. “He’s fucking whipped, mate.” Kyle laughs heartily, eliciting similar laughter from Kane and his wife.

You stood up at the bar as the tuxedo glad bartender went off to collect your order for you when an older man appeared next to you. He too was looking to order a drink. “I hear the sambuca shots are exquisite this year.” You suggest with a teasing grin and a sparkle in your eyes, very successfully gathering the full attention of the silver fox who you had turned to face. He chuckles, eyes meeting yours as his tongue hits out to lick his lips. He was probably in his mid fifties, so you didn’t feel gross for a little bit of flirting to get some cash for a children’s charity.

“I’m just joking,” you note softly, “But the whiskey is fantastic.”

He nods, a smile overtaking his pink lips and stretching his face to fill a happy 60 years worth of laughter lines. He seemed truly sweet, not that you were at all interested. But he wasn’t sleezy, didn’t have a wedding ring in and looked a little younger than you knew he was. A little bit like Patrick Dempsey, actually. “A woman after my own heart.” He responds, flagging down the waiter for two whiskey’s.

As you got to talking, you learned he was a CEO. You had always been in awe of the kind of money that John had immediate access to in his bank account, what with you still paying off student loans and such until John took went behind your back and payed them off with an insistence that “his girl shouldn’t be worrying about anything ever.” But this man had even more money than that, you suspected. He just screamed out overpriced whiskey, fancy holidays, houses on every continent and boatloads of cars that you hadn’t even heard of. Yet, he seemed very sweet. You told him about some of the work you had gotten up to on a year abroad doing aid work during your second year of uni and he had been extremely curious about it, genuinely listening which shocked you significantly.

John would have said it was because the way that you spoke, completely captivatingly as you got lost in your own stories. You made people feel as though they were part of the adventure, drawing them in and leaving them hanging on every word. Most would claim that you were the only reason John still got invited to these black tie charity events because he certainly wasn’t so good at wooing older men out of their money.

“You’re definitely a whiskey lady, then.” You nod your head at the statement from the older man, a small laugh as you remove your hand from his arm that you had reached for when he made you ‘laugh’ with his last joke. “Mhm…well travelled, beautiful, very elegant and clearly incredibly loved.” You furrow your brows slightly his words, eyeing him carefully in search of their meaning. He leans in slightly, his eyes soft with a kind smile of his face. He nods his head behind you, “He’s been watching you since the moment I stepped up next to you.”

Your eyes land on John when you turn around, trying to look as though he wasn’t watching the interaction intently with those fiery blue eyes. You giggle to yourself with a soft sigh. “You made an old man feel incredibly young again,” he begins with genuine joy in his eyes. “You could change the world with that heart. It’s that reason and that reason only that I’ll be making such a hefty donation. None of this wining and dining, fancy ballroom party they’ve thrown. Passion,” he pauses, “Your kind of passion for better is what this is all about. But I reckon you best get back to the man who looks like he’s going to eat me alive.”

His words were touching and incredibly sweet, but the end was also true. You could hear your boyfriend’s footsteps approaching at a pace that might make you question his fifa rating from last year. You turn yourself back around to offer a thank you for the donation in your name, but all you see is that head of salt and pepper hair disappearing off into the crowd. John has suddenly remembered why he hates these things so much. You’re very clever at getting exactly what was needed from these men and you had no shame at all for flirting with them. If you had it, why not use it? You always said.

Despite knowing it meant nothing, it still sent John absolutely crazy and though you’d never admit it, that was one of the biggest reasons you did it. He used to bring you these things as his friend before you had started dating, which was very coincidentally where he burst and told you he loved you when you had asked what had irritated him so much afterwards.

His jealousy wasn’t something you exactly regarded as a demon, a little bit more of a treat.

Seeing him hot and bothered, angry flush to his cheeks with his jaw set firm and his muscles tense in irritation. It was beautifully hot.

“Flirting with older men again, eh?” He says sharply, his eyes burning a hole in you with the fire of their irritation. You shrug nonchalantly and take a sip of your drink. “Not a big deal,” you hum softly in response, watching carefully as anger flickers through his eyes. He turns his back to you with a scoff and a shake of his head, grumbling something under his breath.

“We’re going.” He states. You roll your eyes. “Oh don’t be like that, John.”

“Like what, eh?” He presses, still not turning to look at you.

“All angry and shit, it’s not a big dea-“

John isn’t having it. He whips around quickly, using his large body to press you back into the bar and takes the drink from your hand with ease when you still, enjoying a sip of it before he places it down on the bar, out of the way easily with those long arms. His hands come down to hold onto the dark mahogany surface of the bar top, trapping you with your back against it between his arms and your front against his chest. “Not a big deal?” He challenges, being careful to wedge his thigh in between your legs, he presses it up against you.

“It’s all for charity, John.”

Your face remains unchanged as you look into his eyes, darkened by lust with his pupils swallowing the blue of his iris.

“I don’t care,” he rumbles, his voice low, reverberating through your ear where he had loved his mouth to, his lips and hot breath tickling your neck with each word he speaks. You open your mouth to response, but John sees this and ceases the opportunity he has primed himself for so you can’t speak before he does. The words are lost on your tongue, dying before they ever have the chance to exist when he flexes the muscles of the thigh between your legs, tightening and pushing it up against you. He swallows your squeaky whimper with his mouth over yours.

“You’re mine.” He growls against your lips, continuing to make his presence between your legs known, very very known. He does pull back k slightly though, his darkened smirk flattering to a soft smile as he tilts his head to take in your rosy cheeks. “My sweet, kind girl.” He coos, lifting both his hands to cup your cheeks, thumbs smoothing over the soft surface. You giggle at his words, blush deepening. “Seriously though, love,” he hums, “Hate the action, love the cause.”

That prompts another giggle, your head falling to rest on his chest gently. His hands strokes over your hair softly as his lips press down on the top of your head.

“Not mad?” You query, listening in to the soft and slow thud of his heart against your cheek. John has moved you effortlessly to the ballroom dance floor from the bar with only a few backwards steps, letting you lean in against his chest again. “Little bit, of course.” He replies.

John has his arms wrapped tightly around your body to keep you flush against him in every way, swaying back and forth in time with the music.

To any onlookers, it would appear as normal, mundane and incredibly sweet to see the relatively young couple enjoying each other so close on one of his few nights off. Truly, it was adorable when you factored out the reason for the proximity John keeps to your body.

“John?” You lilt, your voice a daring misfire between sweet and sultry. “Mhm?” He rumbles in response, keeping his cheek rested on the top of your head. “Your hard-on is pressing into my stomach.” He chuckles to himself, your words too quiet for anyone else anywhere near to eavesdrop on but enough to flush his cheeks ever so slightly.

“And I would much rather it was in some far more pleasurable places.”

John does not need those words explained to him, nor does he waste even a moment leading you hastily off towards the exit of the ballroom, sure that he could find somewhere in this venue suitable enough to let everybody hear just who you belong to.

[leafs-lover]

Too Far Gone - Part Twenty Three

Series Masterlist

A/N: Sorry for the delay with this. I didn't plan on it almost being two months, hope you like it. Here is the instagram post discussed near the end.

Warnings: Strippers and strip clubs, the ridiculous standards and expectations of those establishments and their patrons, swearing. Maybe some more? If I missed anything please let me know!

Word Count: 10,300

March 28, 2019

Tia is stressed.

Earlier today her program coordinator and academic advisor, had yet another meeting with her. They reviewed her transcripts, past and present, while having discussions about her future.

Historically her grades were good, great even, typically achieving between a 75-90% in every class, but this semester has been different. Apart from already dropping two classes - that she likely will have to take over the summer - her grades in other classes also took a bit of a nose dive. Finally climbing out from the darkness that has been smothering her, Tia worked to pull her grades up, but it was a little too late.

Finals lurk just around the corner, and it’s likely that will come with a failed class. Unlike the other two, it’s a mandatory class, a pre-requisite for one she has to pass next year to graduate. Failing the class this year makes her ineligible to complete next year's course, and her graduation date would be pushed back for the third time.

At this point she needs over an 85% on the final project to pass the class. Even if by some miracle she passes that class she still doesn’t have the mandatory placement hours, or any potential leads on that, which if not completed also pushes back her graduation.

Then there is Auston.

She has no idea how she feels about him, or how he factors into her life beyond being Taylour’s dad. They haven’t kissed again, but that doesn’t mean he is making it easy on her. Over the last week the Leafs were mostly at home, with just one night away, meaning there was minimal distance between them. Instead of text messages and FaceTimes about Taylour, he was at her apartment blatantly flirting, sending her playful glances and not so subtle grins, making his stance on the situation is very obvious.

It's a lot. Everything is building to become a lot, and she no longer feels like she is standing on solid ground. She is starting to realize that maybe she hasn’t been on solid ground for a while, but was so busy there just was never an opportunity to notice. Before she kept herself busy with school five days a week, work four to five nights a week, and every moment in-between was spent chasing around a wild toddler.

Now with two classes dropped, working one, maybe two nights a week, Taylour sometimes gone with Auston, her free time is becoming more and more frequent. In those moments where she is alone with nothing but her thoughts, no responsibilities, her vulnerabilities begin to shine and everything else slowly fades around her.

It will get better.

That’s what she tells herself.

Tonight, she can’t let those thoughts invade her mind. She can’t think of how she should be studying for a test tomorrow, a test in the class she is borderline passing. Or how she could be finishing up pieces for the men’s wear collection that is due very soon.

Tonight is the first Thursday Tia has worked in almost two months, and her future at the club hinges on her performance. Not metaphorically, literally.

James pulled her aside once she walked in and point blank told her that her performance since returning hadn’t been to the clubs standards. Reminded her there are other women wanting to work there, and they won’t bring their own personal drama to the club. If she can’t find a way to put it aside, she will be looking for employment elsewhere. Both of them know that no other club would want her, given the attention that surrounds her. It’s the Brass Rail or nothing. Currently Tia has the money in her bank account for April’s rent and a week of daycare, but groceries, her cellphone, daycare for the rest of the month? That is a completely different story. On top of that in two weeks she has to pay to take those summer courses.

Working isn’t an option.

To say she is stressed would actually be an understatement. Nerves have been bubbling, building low in her gut, slowly threatening their way up her esophagus. Night after night she often finds herself pushing around the food on her plate, too anxious to eat.

Stepping out onto the stage, her knees wobbled and heart pounded hard against her chest. The lights of felt brighter, hotter than ever before. Wearing her first outfit of the night – firetruck red lace – she worked the pole. Buckcherry’s Crazy Bitch bled into Back in Black, bled into One Kiss. One leg curled around the cool metal, the cheers from a few men were heard over the music. Swaying her hips to the tune, dramatic hair flips, she gave what easily could be one of her top five stage performances. Multiple blue and purple bills littered the stage, even a few green ones mixed in, the crowd loved it, and so did James.

But that was twenty minutes ago. After slipping backstage for a short break, changing into a skimpy blue set, accentuating her every curve, and barely covered by a sheer lace skirt, she stepped back onto the floor. Long hair framing her face, dewy makeup with bold red lips, she wants to feel confident. No matter how hard she tries, no amount of fake lashes or hair extensions are going to erase her worries.

James glare burns into her back, watching her every move as she weaves through the crowd. The bass booms under the mandatory heels that stick to pool of liquor on the floor. Noting the way one man stared at her earlier, how his deep green eyes followed her, drinking her in, she decided to start there. Hopefully he is keen to a private dance or two, allowing Tia to earn some extra money, but mostly to satisfy James.

“Hi,” Tia says, stopping beside him. With a wide and innocent smile, she towers over him, one arm draped over the back of the couch, a knee bent over the other.

“Hi doll,” he muses. “This is really nice,” he grins, “I’m sure it’s even nicer off.” Eyeing her up and down, he brings a hand up and softly runs a finger over the bow where the cup meets the strap. Stiffening, her eyes immediately find James and his watchful eye.

“Keep your hands off and I’ll show you,” Tia smiles at him, pushing aside the tightening of her stomach.

“I can do that,” he chuckles, pulling his hand away.

“Good,” she turns her attention back to him. “Here or there?” she nods to the private rooms, even though she knows the answer. A small intrigued smirk tugs on his lips before he takes Tia’s hand and heads down the hall.

**

“One….two…three,” Auston slowly counts, his hands covering his eyes.

“Fwed we have to hide!” he tugs his hand, dragging him through the living room.

“What about here?” Fred asks, pointing to his toy box.

“Daddy won’t…he won’t find me!” He eagerly nods his head, running towards it as fast as his little legs will allow.

He tries to whisper, but with his excitement it comes out as an excited squeal. Grinning, Auston keeps counting, drawing out each number to give them more time. Fred holds the lid and helps Taylour climb inside - not that it’s hard given every toy is scattered around the living room. Bringing his index finger to his lips to tell Taylour to be quiet, the toddler returns the gesture while giggling. With a soft shake of his head, Fred lowers the lid and walks away to find somewhere to hide.

The chatter stops and Auston finally reaches ten, opening his eyes he allows them a chance to adjust. Standing up, he instantly spots the bulge of his curtain and a large pair of feet sticking out of the bottom. Walking over he pulls it back to reveal the red headed Dane lurking behind it.

“Seriously?”

“I’m 6’4” and 240 pounds, where do you expect me to fit?”

The two of them share a laugh before Auston turns his attention to the task at hand. “I wonder where Taylour is hiding,” he exclaims loudly.

“It’s a good one,” Fred replies, walking over to the couch.

“Not under the table,” Auston narrates, walking around the living room, “or behind the couch.” Tapping his finger against his chin, he lets out a loud sigh, “I think he’s lost.”

Laughter. Muffled but excited laughter is coming from the toy box, Auston dramatically walks around the living room, continuing to ignore the location of the sound. Taylour’s giggles get louder, the lid of the toy box lifts up a few inches before dropping back down.

“Hmm, guess he’s gone forever,” Fred shakes his head, noting two little fingers poking out under the lid.

“Mhm,” Auston laughs, “guess so.” Walking over Auston grabs the lid and opens it, to reveal a giggling Taylour.

“You found me,” his voice drops, disappointment over being found.

“Wow, what a good hiding spot!” Auston bends down to help him climb out. “I think you are the hide and seek champion.”

“Now…now Fwedwe counts and –“

“Now it’s bed time,” Auston informs him, grinning when a disappointed ‘oh’ falls from his lips. “Say goodnight to Fred.”

“Night Fwed,” he mumbles bitterly.

“Goodnight Taylour,” Fred replies. Holding his fist out, Taylour runs over and gives him a fist bump, his new favourite thing he learned tonight.

Fred adjusts into the couch, turning on the Raptors game as they walk down the hall, listening as Taylour complains about not being tired. Having already put his pajama’s on and brushed his teeth, Auston helps him climb into bed and hands him Marshall and Geoffrey.

“What story do you want?” Auston asks, pulling the comforter up to his chin.

“I want to play with Fwed,” Taylour huffs, right as a large yawn tumbles from his lips.

“Right now you have to go to bed, but I promise Fred will come over another day for you to play with.” Auston gently brushes his curls back revealing the scattered freckles on his forehead.

“Okay.” Disappointment is heavy in his tone, along with exhaustion. Reaching over to the shelf Auston grabs one of Taylour’s Peppa Pig stories and earns a faint nod from Taylour.

“Peppa Pig and the Lucky Ducks,” Auston starts, opening it to the first page.

**

Cherry Pie by Warrant starts just as Tia began her dance.

A few feet away at first, his eyes darkened and flicked up and down, watching as she slowly removed the sheer skirt, tossing it aside. The lights reflect off her skin, a warm glow evident by self-tanner as she sways her hips in a sultry motion. As the song continues, the gap between them gradually began to close. Slumping into the seat, he licked his lips, keeping his green eyes glued on hers, never breaking eye contact not even at the commotion happening outside the room, completely encapsulated by her slow and seductive strip tease.

Tia tried to chat with him, attempting to pass the time. Jeremy - as she would learn - isn’t much of a talker. His answers were short and brief, sometimes dismissive until the only sound was the music bouncing off the walls.

Bad Girlfriend by Theory of a Deadman erupts over the speakers. ‘Ironic’ Tia thinks to herself, placing her knees on either side of his thighs, straddling him while teasing a closer view of her chest. Swallowing hard, his eyes drop, watching her body follow the beat of the chorus. Pressing her chest against his, she reaches back to release her breasts from their confines, gaining a heavy, whiskey drenched exhale from Jeremy.

She breathes in his body wash -masking the faint smell of nicotine, as her long brown hair dangles down her a back, a few strands lining her face. Soft, muttered curse words are heard as Tia presses her thong against him, grinding down along with the rhythm.

Much to his displeasure, Tia pulls away and turns around, pressing her back into his chest. Tilting towards the door with a devious wink, she pulls her hair away, providing him with a better view, her core low, grinding against his denim.

Tia continued her show. Turning to face him, chests pressed together, lifting her hips to bring them closer to his face. Song after song played until he leaned forward, breath hot on her neck, and yelled, just loud enough to be heard over the music, “Auston is an idiot. Walking away from this every night.”

Tia almost froze, almost.

Of course he would have the audacity to say something.

Chills ran up her spine as her jaw tightly clenched. Hands bound firmly in a fist, her knees wobbled under her trembling body as she pulled away. “Songs over,” she called over her shoulder, trying to remain composed. Not wanting him to have the satisfaction of disrupting her night.

Two deep breaths and she turned, unclenching her fist, she smiled with her lips but her eyes said a different story. Face unmoving, Jeremy reached for his wallet and throws some bills on a nearby table. “Have yourself a good night.”

He left her standing, clothes strewn around the room while her chest heaved.

Tia felt sick to her stomach.

She held it together long enough for him to leave. Like a deer on ice, her body trembled as she struggled to put her bra back on. The room faded around her as she grabbed her skirt. Not even bothering to tie it around her thong, she stumbled out and down the stairs, heading to the back room.

**

“I feel like you should have gotten your kid to clean this up,” Fred says, having spent the last couple minutes cleaning the mess. Putting the puzzle pieces back into the molds, closing the books, digging under the couch to pull every farm animal figurine out. Fred has no idea how one child managed to do all this, and in such a short period of time.

“Yeah, normally I try to get him to help, but it was past his bedtime,” Auston explains, shoving the few bigger toys into the corner. “That’s fine, he’s just going to destroy everything before breakfast tomorrow.”

Walking into the kitchen Fred grabs two waters and makes his way back to the living room, falling into the couch. “How do you keep up with him all the time? Kid never stops.”

“Yeah, definitely keeps you on your toes,” Auston laughs, adjusting at the other end. “Thought about bringing Mitch by, probably the only person to keep up with him.”

“He's a great kid, but definitely a good reminder to use condoms,” Fred teases, handing him the other bottle.

Continuing to watch the game, they both relax for the first time in the last three hours, finally, a few moments of peace. As a commercial break approaches, a teaser for the after game discussion comes on the TV. Sportnet’s panel discussing the Leafs current struggles, and what needs to be done for playoff success. Fred groans watching as they show some of the goals he has let in as of late, before ending with an ‘Auston and the boys' comment, as if the team circles around him.

“What’s been going on with you?” Fred asks, after the teaser finishes, noting he seemed completely unfazed by it. “Babs has been all over us for our shitty defensive plays, he even called you out specifically to the media, and you genuinely seem unbothered by it all, constantly in a good mood."

“Life is just good, Taylour is good,” he replies, trying to brush it off. “Guess I’m not letting a few shitty hockey plays ruin what I have going on.”

“Life is good?” Fred probes, knowing there is more than Auston is letting on.

Like always when the team is playing like this, barely clinging to that playoff spot, fans and media go nuts. Everywhere they turn is a story, comment, or a post about it, and if you make a bad play don’t even bother opening your twitter that night.

Auston developed a knack for blocking out the background noise once he started playing in media-crazed Toronto, and has really been leaning into it since the article about Tia and Taylour. Critiques from his coach aren’t background noise though, and Auston has always heeded the advice of staff. But after being scolded by Babcock earlier, Auston was smiling in the dressing room and again in the car on the way home. Almost like he didn't hear, or if he did, he doesn't care. It’s been going on for days and Fred can tell something is going on.

“Yeah, you know, things are good. Taylour is here for the night and –“

“It’s not the first time he’s been here. Something is weird with you, like really weird.”

Being one of his best friends it doesn’t surprise him that Fred sees through the lie. Obviously he is happy to have Taylour at his place, but his recent mood is 100% because of Tia. The taste of her lips, even days later, still lingers on his, their lips molded to the others, it felt like coming home. But it’s the blush on her cheeks and flustered responses over the past few days that have really been the cause of his mood.

More than that, it's because he knows she wants to do it again. And when she does, whether it's tomorrow, a week from now or even a month, Auston has a plan. It's a two step plan, and the first part is to not tear her clothes off minutes later. As much as he wants to kiss every inch of her, after last time that would be a mistake. That's why the plan is dinner, an amazingly romantic dinner without a two year old interrupting them, where they can finally talk about everything they have been avoiding.

“Tia and I kissed,” Auston admits.

“You and Tia kissed?” He repeats back. “What are you twelve?”

“It was like an insane kiss. The kind of kiss that would have led to more if Taylour didn’t interrupt us.”

“Isn’t that the second time your own kid has cock blocked you?” He asks, remembering Taylour all but opened the door after they slept together.

Shaking his head, Auston laughs slightly before continuing. “It was almost a week ago, but I can tell she still thinks about it. If I kissed her again she’d kiss me back.”

“You’re so gone for her,” Fred teases, giving him a gentle nudge.

“Fuck off,” Auston laughs.

“Tell me I’m wrong.” Fred gives him a moment, noting shake of his head before continuing. “You can’t because the only person who has you more whipped is that little boy.”

Auston wants to roll his eyes, but the truth is he can’t. In the two and a half years since he left Zurich nobody has ever come close to making him feel this way. He’s felt this way since the day he met her and if he’s being honest he never stopped, he just covered it up to a point where nobody noticed anymore.

Shaking his head, Fred turns his attention back to the TV. Upon hearing his phone chime, Auston reaches into his pocket to see a text from Dr. Madger.

Heidi: Put through the bill for this week...another no-show. If you’d like we can cancel the remaining sessions. Let me know.

Sighing, Auston locks his phone and slides it back into his pocket, not letting anything ruin the high he is riding on.

**

“I swear I’m going to break the arm off the next guy who feels me up,” Tia sneers, removing her fake lashes.

After making her way backstage for a ‘break’ James instantly found her, telling her that she had been requested at the Upper Brass, the private lounge upstairs. It often gets booked by groups for private events, birthday or bachelor parties, or by groups who prefer privacy. Sometimes the women act as servers, providing bottle service and enjoying causal conversation, other times private shows are requested as well. Tia never really knows what to expect, other than there is normally a few of the girls, and typically large tips.

Five minutes is all that was afforded to her, just enough time to take a quick drink and go to the bathroom. Her ears rang as she walked back onto the floor, up the two flights of stairs.

The room was filled with about twenty men, most of whom are in their mid-twenties. Dripping in Gucci, Prada, Armani, and Rolex’s on their wrists, an overwhelming amount of cologne. Loud cocky laughs, tight shirts showcasing their bulging biceps and boyish charm on full display. She could feel the money and cockiness slap her in the face. All she wanted was to leave and go home. But walking out the door meant she wouldn’t ever walk back in, so she brought back her fake smile and joined Heather, Krystal, Tamara and Grace.

“I know, and for what?” Throwing some bills on the table, Heather falls into her seat, “barely $200 each.”

“Unbelievable,” Tia grumbles under her breath. Normally working the Upper Brass means the tips are very generous. But some groups after paying the entrance fee – and in this case, the fee to have the entire space to themselves – tend to be stingy on the tips. This group was stingy as well as handsy.

The Upper Brass tends to be a little looser with bouncers enforcing the workers boundaries. If everything is following the Toronto Bylaws and no problems are arising, security tends to turn a blind eye and let the women handle the situation themselves.

Every woman has different rules on where guests can and can’t touch them, but Tia tends to be on the restrictive side – even if it comes with smaller tips. Tia doesn’t judge the other women for their choices. It’s their body, if they allow guests to squeeze their hips or run their fingers over their thighs, that’s their prerogative, but it’s not something she allows.

It’s happened before– unwanted hands trailing along her skin, grabbing her hips, even the occasional ass smack – but normally with a stern warning the guy stops, pulls his hands off, issues an apology and doesn’t do it again. Tonight, for some reason, she didn’t do that, there was no warning issued. When his hands found her hips and dug in, Tia just went numb.

Maybe she was still in her head because of Jeremy. Maybe she thought it was a lost cause given the alcohol they were consuming. Or perhaps it was because she heard Auston’s name mentioned too many times to count. Maybe it’s because the other women allowed it, she felt like she had to? That there was no use in trying to stop it?

Whatever the reason, it felt like an out of body experience. That she watched one guy grab her thighs and hold her close as she grinded her hips against him. Imagined another guy grab her by the arm and pull her into his lap, requesting a dance. Surely it was someone else that had a thumb trail over the side of their ribcage, tracing the freckles.

“Good work tonight ladies,” poking his head in the locker room at the end of the night, James applauds them. “Way to step up tonight and bring it, the men were very happy.” With a heavy grin and a dirty wink he leaves, right as vomit builds in her stomach, threatening its way up her throat.

Irritable.

Her skin crawls as she plays back the night in her head, all the things she didn’t do.

Stripping used to be fun. Not the taking her clothes off or dancing on strange men every night, but getting done up. Doing her hair and makeup, creating a persona - becoming Carmen - that part she liked.

And long before she became a stripper, dancing used to bring her joy. Dancing with friends or taking classes, it’s completely different than using a pole or providing one on one strip shows for men, but dancing was always a part of this she enjoyed. Now she hates it.

Add in the stress of having to keep a certain body type, having her managers criticize her for gaining weight, every day a part of her is torn down. Before the parts she enjoyed outweighed the cons, and she could look past them. As the invisible weight pressing down gets heavier and heavier, and the expectations continue to get higher, Tia doesn’t know if it’s worth it anymore.

If it’s worth failing university, worth the lies and rumours, worth the constant time away from her son, if its worth having to always look a certain way and never being afforded an off night. But the real question is can she afford to stop?

April 3, 2019

Auston is nervous.

More so than his first date with Tia, more than draft day, more nervous than his first NHL game, more than when he found out he had a kid. Today is the day he is getting on Taylour’s birth certificate.

When he first found out about Taylour, this thought never even crossed his mind, he never even considered that he wasn’t listed as his father. It wasn’t until Tia not so graciously reminded him that he has no legal right to be involved, it loomed over him.

For a while Tia held all the power between them, she could play that card if she wanted, and block Auston from Taylour’s life. He worried about upsetting her, mishandling a situation, and never seeing Taylour again.

As time went on, trust was slowly built between them, and her guards began to drop. He found himself thinking about this less and less, to a point where it wasn’t much of a concern for him. Countless parents aren’t on the birth certificate, but it doesn’t mean they don’t act as parents. Other parents are listed and have zero involvement in the child’s life. Being on the birth certificate has no bearing on the type of father he would be. The only thing that matters, is how Taylour feels towards him.

He genuinely felt this way. Then Tia handed him the forms to update Taylour’s birth certificate, and everything changed. He was wildly excited, patiently awaiting today, he didn’t realize just how nervous he was until he missed the turn for her place.

He’s been to her apartment countless times by now. She gave him the code to the parking garage, and lets him use the parking space associated with her apartment, that until now hadn’t been needed. He has a key fob that accesses the elevator, has even seen her neighbour enough times that he recognizes them. The walk from the parking space to the elevator, from the elevator to her door, could almost be done blindfolded.

Today he finds himself running on autopilot, a version of autopilot where he doesn’t remember how to function. Standing in the elevator he blankly stares at the numbered buttons not sure where to go. He doesn’t remember the elevator ride, or the walk down the hall, yet somehow he is standing at her door.

“Mommy!” Taylour’s voice calls from the other side of the door, followed by the rattling of the handle.

“You need to wait for an adult to open the door Taylour,” he hears Tia say, her voice is hollow and empty.

After a little more whining, the deadbolt unlatches and the door flings open. Taylour tight to Tia’s hip, wearing a collared black shirt under a maroon cardigan and a pair of dark blue jeans.

“Dadda!” he squeals. Reaching out, he practically jumps at Auston who springs into action to catch him.

“Nice shoes,” Auston notes the simple white Nike’s he bought him last week.

“Look at my hat!” he points to the Paw Patrol toque covering his curls.

“You look good.”

“Mhm. Look at mommy,” he points to Tia, “she pretty!”

Tia chuckles softly as the door closes, as soon as she got dressed she heard, “wow mommy pretty,” and he has told her about a million times since.

Tia has never been to a courthouse or stood in front of a judge, and it resulted in her overthinking everything.

Can she wear something she would wear to school? Are jeans allowed if she pairs it with a stylish top or blazer? What about leggings? She spent yesterday trying on everything she owned, trying every possible combination of clothing. Not finding anything she deemed suitable, she called Sarah, her friend with experience in family court.

Sarah and Charlie came by yesterday, along with a few options. She tried them all on, took them all off. Tried every pair of shoes – excluding her work pairs - hair up, hair down. She knew it didn’t matter. Sarah told her since this wasn’t a custody or child support hearing, instead two parents agreeing on a matter and needing a judge to sign off, the judge would barely give her a second glance.

But that didn’t matter Tia wanted to look perfect.

Finally, she settled on a white dress that stops just above her knees. A simple high rounded neckline, fit and flair at the waist, overlaid in a sheer cover with a tie waist and long sleeves.

It’s simple. It’s elegant. It may be too much, but once Auston eyes sparkle while taking her in, Tia knows it was the right choice. “Yeah, she really is,” he whispers back to Taylour, a small but slowly growing smile spreading on his face.

“So pretty!” Taylour claps his hands, eyes wide and beaming.

“And what about you, my handsome boy?” she pokes Taylour’s side, garnering a giggle from him.

“You are going to be the best dressed at daycare,” Auston grins, watching as Tia pulls on her jacket. Knowing City Hall would have lines, delays, no room to play or entertain a two year old, Tia planned on taking Taylour to daycare for the appointment. At first Auston was disappointed, but started to feel relieved once he considered anyone could snap a picture of them.

“Oh he’s coming with us,” she pulls her hair out from under the collar and does up some of the buttons. “Little mix up with daycare.”

“Oh…okay. Everything good?”

“Yeah,” flashing a bright smile, she quickly dismisses him. Grabbing her keys from the table, she shoves them in her bag and walks over to the door, waiting for him to open it. Auston can tell there is more to it, some detail Tia is leaving out. He knows he should press the issue, get to the root of it all, and any other day he would have, but today we can barely even think twice about it.

**

Of course the Commissioner’s office is late, why do you have to make an appointment if they will be late?

Their appointment was at 11:45, it’s almost 12:30, and there is still a few groups ahead of them. Reaching into her bag, Tia pulled out some snacks, yogurt tubes, a container of goldfish, fruit chews. It amazes Auston that she brought all this. It never would have crossed his mind to bring a small vending machines worth of food, drinks, even a handful of small toys to occupy Taylour. While he quickly lost interest with his toys that are “quiet and boring” as Taylour called them –which resulted in Auston setting up Peppa Pig on his phone for him – the snacks have proven to be necessary. As the time passes 1pm, a few more groups have trickled in and out, Taylour’s eyes gradually getting heavier.

With a ball cap pulled low on his head, Auston tries to keep his head down, not wanting to attract the attention of fans who are undoubtedly in the building. Tia knew the risk in bringing Taylour, but the only other option was to push the date back, which isn’t fair. It’s not Auston’s fault Taylour had to come today.

They sit, wordlessly, waiting for their names to be called. Time continues to crawl by and Taylour’s yawns are becoming longer and more frequent. Pulling Taylour into her lap, his head falls as he fights the urge to fall asleep. Eventually exhaustion overpowers the desire to be awake, and with his head pressed into her chest, he sleeps soundly in her embrace.

Shaking off his jacket, Auston grabs the almost drained phone and shuts down the app, before sliding it into his pocket. Still sitting in silence, Auston’s leg furiously taps against the floor, heart pounding rapidly against his chest, threatening to break his ribs with every beat.

After what feels like hours, Auston and Tia are finally called in, and Auston swore he felt vomit in his throat when he took the first step towards the doorway. Tia’s ankle boots click loudly against the polished marble floor with each step, practically echoing through City Hall. Auston’s hand finds the small of her back, gently guiding her through the waiting doors.

It’s a small underwhelming, nothing like he imagined. A few rows of empty seats, two tables with chairs and an oversized bench up at the front. Making their way to the table, the court officer informs them to stay standing as the judge would be in shortly. Taking his jacket, Auston drapes it over the back of his chair.

“You take him?” Tia asks, before passing him off.

Gently shaking her coat off, Tia folds it over the back of a chair and fluffs her hair that was trapped under the collar. Just like back at her apartment, she takes his breath away, and he knows she isn’t trying. If it wasn’t for the court officials Auston would have let his eyes linger on her a little bit longer – breathed in her curves, taken in the exposed skin of her legs.

Just as he thinks he could never look away, the door opens and in walks the judge.

The moment the doors fling open, Auston’s eyes snapped towards the sound. Watching the Judge take her seat, Auston and Tia follow suit, Auston being careful to not disturb Taylour who is resting soundly against his shoulder.

“Good afternoon. Sorry for the delay, very busy here today,” she smiles. “I’m Judge Gianponi, I’m assigned to your hearing today.” Sitting in her chair she leans forward and tilts the file up, giving the documents a brief glance. Setting them down her eyes return to Tia and Auston. “We are updating the birth certificate for one, Taylour James Adams?”

“Yes ma’am,” they both agree at the same time.

“We are updating the paternal portion that was previously left blank?”

“Yes ma’am,” they once again repeat.

“And I assume Taylour is the child sleeping on your shoulder?” she chuckles softly, eyes lingering on Taylour.

“Yes,” Auston responds, turning his gaze to his sleeping son before back to the judge.

“As Taylour is a minor, changes can only be made by those listed on the birth certificate, or a legal guardian. Are you a,” picking up the forms she reads the name off before setting them back down, “Tia Adams?”

“Yes I am.”

“Good, that makes this easy,” she smiles. “Now what are the circumstances surrounding the change of the birth certificate.”

Swallowing harshly, Tia eyes to Auston before back to the judge. Taking a sigh she starts to explain, “he wasn’t there when he was born. It’s not his fault,” she rushes to add in, not wanting it to seem as though Auston abandoned them. “It wasn’t by choice that he was left off it, but he has spent the last four months proving that he deserves to be in his life. Since finding out he hasn’t left.” Taking a few shaky breaths, brushing away the tears from the corner of her eye, she continues. “I want to change it because he’s an amazing dad and he should have been on it since the beginning.”

Reaching down Auston grabs her hand, and gives it a soft squeeze as tears brim in her eyes. Shifting her glance over to him, she notes the glossiness of his bronze eyes as he silently words a ‘thank you’ to her.

“He seems like a great dad,” Judge Gianponi smiles at Tia. “Now,” she turns to Auston, “you understand that by signing the birth certificate, and updating the paternal portion, you are legally responsible for that boy? You may file a petition for joint or sole custody. If Ms. Adams chooses, she can file a claim of child support where you may have to compensate Ms. Adams, help pay for Taylour’s daycare, medical bills, clothing, sporting activities and so on. Even if you decide to no longer be present in Taylour’s life, you would still be legally obligated to pay child support.”

“Yes, but I don’t plan on going anywhere,” Auston replies with a wide grin.

“That’s what we like to hear.” Holding out a black pen she prompts Auston and Tia to come forward. “You have to sign, then I will, and it will be official.”

Tia is first to sign the bottom of the form. Handing the pen to Auston, he grasps it with his clammy hand. An excited anxiousness courses through him as he balances Taylour while leaning forward to shakily add his signature. Once done, they pass the pen back to the Judge, who signs the final box. Bringing out the stamp, she presses it into the notary box, and just like that it’s official.

Auston is legally Taylour’s dad.

He expected to feel different, not sure how, but he thought he would feel something, a sense of relief at the very least. Instead he feels the exact same. And that is the exact moment Auston realized it is just a piece of paper. He has been Taylour’s dad all along.

**

Carefully opening the door and setting Taylour into the car seat, Tia does up the buckles. Auston stands a foot away, grinning from ear to ear, watching as she tightens the straps to securely fasten him in. Pulling away, the back door gently closes and Auston turns to Tia, the sound of his SUV idling hums beside them.

“Thank you,” he smiles. “Today was…it was…”momentarily trailing off, “it was perfect.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” her eyes flick up to his. Reaching out she grabs his hands - clammy from his nerves, cool from late winter air flooding the parking garage - and gives them a faint squeeze. “You’re his dad. Even those two years when you weren’t, you still were. There’s a reason Taylour refers to you as dad and not Auston, and, I don’t know, I guess I always knew this would happen.”

She spent two years showing Taylour pictures and telling him stories of Auston - even though he didn't understand any of it. Some nights when Taylour was screaming and wouldn’t sleep, or was being a typical toddler terrorizing the house, Tia wanted to hate Auston for not being there, for not being involved. But during those times when she wanted to hate him, she couldn’t because she knew this would happen.

She saw it when he’d laugh and his dimples were wider than his smile. She saw it through his wild personality, when he’d try and do something crazy and ridiculous only to grin at her and all would be forgiven. The nights when she was drained, struggling to keep going, that’s when she felt it the most. Taylour would be asleep, lying in her arms, or he’d walk up to her and wrap his arms around her neck, give her a sloppy kiss while telling her he loved her. Without even trying he instilled the feeling everything would be okay, just like Auston used to do.

Tia knew this day would happen because Taylour reminds her so much of Auston. And there is no way her son took all these amazing qualities from a man who was a terrible person who didn't want to be involved.

Closing the gap, Tia expects him to pull her in for a hug, but if she paid attention, saw his eyes - glowing with hope and soft with love – what happens next wouldn’t have been such a surprise. Tilting her chin and ducking down, the kiss starts soft and slow. One hand migrates to her waist, the other cups her jaw, slowly working his tongue into her mouth.

Tia has spent so much time trying to process the last kiss she never really gave much thought to another one.

Even though a voice in the back of her head tells her to not surrender - that too much looms over them and kissing is just a diversion to avoid a difficult conversation - the moment his slightly chapped lips hit hers, all reason was gone. Tia instantly forgot of the list of why to not kiss him and could only do one thing. Kiss him back.

Taking a step backwards, he follows suit, pressing her body against the cool metal of his car. Following the faint moan that spills from her lips he gives her waist a soft squeeze, drawing a smile to her lips. Her hands snake up to the side of his face, gently grazing the scruff on his jaw before tangling into his dark brown roots.

It's soft and sweet, her hands taking in his face. Lips forming to the others, tongues methodically working with the other, neither one fighting for control, just relishing the touch of the other. Time stands still while they are transported somewhere, just them.

Except it’s not just them.

Cars are being locked and unlocked around them, scattered voices from various conversations, even the occasional vehicle driving pulling out of the garage. Taylour sleeps peacefully in his car seat less than two feet away. They are very much not alone.

If they weren’t so encapsulated in the other, they might have heard the hushed conversation as two girls approached them in the garage. Might have heard one girl whisper, “is that Auston Matthews?” and the other answer, “yeah, I think so.” If their focus was anywhere else, they would have heard the gasp followed by, “I think that’s the stripper.”

If they weren’t so caught in the moment -moaning into the others mouth as everything around them faded into the distance - they certainly would have heard them say, “grab your phone.”

It’s not until they hear the camera click and the giggles, the realization that they aren't alone knocks them over. Tia pulls away first, burying her face against his chest, as heat rises in her cheeks. Auston’s forehead drops, and his arms instinctively wrap around her shoulders, pulling her tightly against him, protecting her from everything. Resting his chin on her head he can’t believe his luck, or lack there off. Muttering a curse word, followed by an apology, his voice is broken, almost unrecognizable.

“It’s okay,” she whispers, unable to use the full weight of her voice. “It’s not your fault.”

“Kind of is,” he mutters, knowing if it wasn’t for him none of this would be happening.

Turning to glare at the two girls no older than twenty, their eyes widen and they freeze. “Seriously?” Auston scoffs towards them, narrowing his gaze. Feeling the anger rolling off him in waves, crashing around them, one of them nudges the other and they scamper off like dogs with tails between their legs.

**

“Thanks again,” Auston says putting the car in park outside her building. With Taylour still sleeping, the drive was quiet, neither one said a word, Auston didn’t even turn the radio on, the only sound passing vehicles and the constant horns found on every Toronto street.

The silence was admittedly awkward, more awkward then Auston wanted, but he could hear every gear spinning in her head, even thought he saw tears prick the edge of her eyes, and decided it was best to give her space – even if it went against all his primal instincts.

“Yeah.” It’s the first thing she has said since the parking garage, having spent the entire drive purposely glaring out the passenger window, avoid him.

Reaching down to the floor she grabs her bag. Auston doesn’t know how he missed this earlier, but it’s the bag he bought her for her 19th birthday. The grey leather with gold zippers, shoulder strap removed because Tia didn’t like to use them. She was so happy when he gave it to her, didn’t even care that it was last year’s style, she just loved it. Auston promised to buy her a newer one when he signed in the NHL on a higher salary, Tia didn’t want it. She said the bag was designed to last and she didn’t see the need in replacing it. Now it’s over three years old, wear and tear starting to become evident - some scuffs in the leather, a small stain she attempted to wipe near the handle - but just like she promised, she got her use of it.

He doesn’t know why his eyes linger and his mind trails off to that day – fixating on the fact that she still has it. She sold her sewing machine, countless pairs of shoes, even the watch her dad bought her, but the last gift he bought her remains a part of her closet.

Releasing the seatbelt she reaches for the handle. Letting out a deep sigh and closing the door, she turns to face him before speaking. “So, we can do your first playoff game, but not the second one, I have a final on the 18th.”

“Uh…I… yeah, no, that’s…that’s great,” he stammers out, as if all words are suddenly lost on him. “You’re going to come too?”

“If that’s okay. I’m just not really comfortable with him being around people I don’t-“

“Its fine,” he laughs, noting the flushed look of her cheeks. “I just wanted to make sure I got the right amount of tickets. Two tickets.”

“Yes.”

Once again silence fills the air, not letting it linger like before Auston leans over the center console and places a soft kiss to her cheek, whispering goodbye. Breathing him in, she hesitantly pulls away with a soft grin. With a rapidly accelerating heart rate she grabs the handle and flings the door open, stepping out onto the crowded Toronto street.

Waiting to make sure she gets inside, Auston takes a deep breath, and another. Having played countless games, including playoff hockey, and almost an entire season in Zurich with her in the stands, it’s nothing new. Yet butterflies fill his stomach at the realization she will be there, cheering him on as he chases down that elusive Stanley Cup, something he used to dream about.

**

Walking off the elevator, Tia didn’t stop at home. She blew past her apartment and continued down the hall to Becks. Fighting the tears that burned her pupils, she faintly knocked which was met by some shuffling on the other side and the door opening. Only, instead of a short brunette with large round glasses, she is met with a blonde with deep green eyes, whose face instantly drops.

“Is Becks home?” Tia fights the sob caught in her throat.

Tugging anxiously on the sleeves of her jacket, and shuffling on her heels, Claire instantly feels the nervous energy.

“Yeah,” she steps aside, letting Tia in. Standing awkwardly, not sure what to say – if anything - Claire watches as she misses the wall and almost falls while trying to unzip her boots. Instinctively Claire sticks her arm out to grab her elbow.

“You okay?” Claire queries, releasing her elbow for her to remove her jacket. Tia can tell Claire is being genuine, but she can’t help but go beet red with anger.

“Seriously? After what you did, you’re going to pretend like you fucking care?” Tia snaps back, not concerned about her tone. Drawing all her anger and frustration from today out, her eyes go dark – darker than ever before. “Can’t believe I had a kid with someone who not only dated you, but thought you were a decent person.”

Claire recoils, having never seen Tia –or anyone for that matter - this angry before. She tries to remain calm, but she can feel the fire that has been ignited. “I don’t know whose judge of character that says more about, mine or his.”

This is the first time they have been alone since the article broke, likely even seen each other. Opening the door Claire knew she should just say nothing and walk away. There are countless things Claire wants to say, needs to say, but upon seeing her face she knew today wasn’t the day.

“She’s in her room,” is all Claire can say, barely able to formulate a thought.

Taking a few steps down the hall, Tia turns to see Claire still frozen in the same spot. “Was it worth it?” she asks, drawing Claire’s gaze up. “When you told the entire world I’m an escort and almost caused damage to Auston’s relationship with his son, was it worth it?”

Claire is silent for a minute, processing the question, weighing the pros and cons of issuing the long overdue apology. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she clears her throat before croaking out an almost inaudible no. With that, Tia turns and walks away.

“Was Taylour in it?” Becks asks, once Tia stops rambling about what happened earlier.

“He was asleep in the car.” Staring straight ahead at the ceiling, Tia blinks, her dark brown hair strewn across the pillow.

“So it was just you two –“

“Kissing, it was the two of us kissing. Tongues buried in the others throats, might as well have bent me over the hood of his car.”

Unlocking her phone, Becks opens up twitter and searches Auston’s name, upon only finding stories about hockey and the upcoming playoffs, she switches to Instagram, and it’s the most recent picture under his tags.

“Seriously Tia? You’re being dramatic.”

Tilting her phone to show her the picture, Becks laughs. Reaching out Tia snatches the phone from Becks and hits the comment button, reading the first one her brows furrow in response.

“Tia you shouldn’t –“

“Ohmygod!” she sits up, eyes growing wider and jaw dropping. “Hopefully he wraps it this time…wonder how much that cost him…she really knows how to get what she wants…”

Becks grabs her phone back before Tia can read anymore, but it’s too late. “Don’t listen to them, they don’t know you.”

“Well they sure have some pretty strong opinions about me.”

“Who gives a shit what they think? All that matters is what you think when you look in the mirror.”

Shaking her head, Tia falls back against the bed with an exaggerated groan. Tia still can’t believe it happened, or that people can be this ruthless to a complete stranger. She could understand the newspaper writing the story, not how they wrote it, but it’s a story that generated money. But what did those girls gain from taking a picture and posting it on Instagram? What do strangers have to gain by making these disgusting comments about someone they never met?

“Can I ask you a question?” Becks cautiously approaches the topic, waiting for the slight nod before continuing. “Why did you kiss him?”

“He kissed me.”

“No. You are kissing him back. If you didn’t want to kiss him you would pushed him away, not be tugging his hair from his scalp. You kissed him back, just like last week with the sewing machine.”

With her hands bound nervously into fists, a hold so tight her nails dig into her palms, Tia sighs. “I don’t know…I told myself I wasn’t going to kiss him after last time…and we didn’t for 10 days…and then…I don’t know I just did.”

“Okay.” Leaning on her elbow beside Tia, Becks thinks there is more than she is letting on. “Did you like it…kissing him?”

“I don’t know...maybe? It’s all confusing. I tell myself I’m not going to kiss him, that after last time I’m not going to go down that road again…then he kisses me and I forget about the million and one reasons not to do it.”

It’s not entirely true. The fact is, Tia knows she enjoyed kissing him, it’s just very complicated.

After the first kiss Tia spent many nights, alone, in bed, thinking of him and his tongue. The way the touch of his lips lingered on hers, how she still smells his cologne. She never intends on thinking about him - starting somewhere else, but as two fingers slide in and out of her dripping core her mind goes to him and she can’t think of anything besides what would have happened if they didn’t stop.

After the moment is gone, the thirst of her core quenched, she is left with a fear lingering on the surface, lurking around every corner. This dread that they made a colossal mistake. After every misstep they’ve had over the past few months, Tia struggles to see an option that involves the two of them together. They already went down that path, the path together and the next day set it aflame.

“It sounds like you need clarity,” Becks offers.

“How do I get that?”

“I don’t know, kiss him again, talk to him, go on a date, sleep with him? I don’t know what will work for you, but you'll know once you get it.”

Letting a heavy silence fall over them, Becks shifts to lie down and uses her forearm as a pillow. Thinking over Becks idea, nothing seems like it will provide her with the clarity she needs. It’s an impossible situation, and Tia sees no way through the thick fog.

“Can I spend the night? I don’t want to be alone.”

“Always babe.” Wrapping her arms around her, to force her into her embrace.

**

“Hey mom,” Auston says once FaceTime connects.

“Hi papi, why didn’t you answer me earlier?”

“I was busy ma,” he explains with a slight laugh.

Once Taylour woke up from his nap it was go go go. Half a box of goldfish are buried in the couch cushions, Auston caught him trying to climb his bookshelves, not once but twice. He pulled every single toy out of his toy box. Once Auston told him that Fred wasn’t coming over, he responded by emptying the toy box in his bedroom.

There is a sticky spot on the kitchen floor where Auston needs to wash the juice that was spilled earlier. Somehow Taylour ended up with spaghetti sauce under his shirt so Auston pulled it off, he then smeared chocolate pudding into his hair. The mistake was then made to clean the seat and table while allowing the sticky, food covered toddler a chance to run around the apartment, thus leading to a smear on the back of his couch.

He missed his moms first phone call while at the courthouse, ignored the text from his dad while pulling him from the bookshelf, and a second phone call from his mom during the mayhem of dinner. Having put Taylour to bed five minutes ago his apartment is in shambles, a state Auston doesn’t even know where to start, if he should - given it will only look like this again before breakfast.

“Too busy for your own mother?” she scolds, a playful grin tugging on her lips.

Flipping the camera, he pans around the room, giving her a glimpse of the tornado Taylour left in his wake. Expecting some sympathy he is met only with laughter, loud taunting laughter. “That’s nothing compared to what you used to do. You were a little terror, nice to see Taylour is returning the favour.”

Rolling his eyes hard enough to be felt in Arizona, Auston falls into the couch. “But things are good with Taylour?” Ema asks.

“Yeah, they are great. Amazing even. He’s coming to game three.”

“I GET TO MEET MY GRANDSON!” Ema shrieks into the phone.

“I don’t know…Tia will be there…and honestly she was on edge about him going, fans getting a picture of him or something. I don’t even know if she’ll stay for the entire thing…his bedtime and her finals…all I know is that they will be there.”

He watches her face fall, it’s not that he doesn’t feel sympathetic towards them, but this is about so much more. Auston has been going to great lengths with Tia, slowly and meticulously taking her walls down, one brick at a time.

While her name and face were plastered all over social media and the front page of multiple newspapers, Taylour wasn’t. She worked to keep him and his privacy protected while the news was at its peak. That’s why he was shocked Taylour came with them today.

Not only that, he actually searched himself online today for the first time in months. Checking the recent tags on Twitter and Instagram to see if there are any posts. More importantly any posts of Taylour.

Unfortunately the picture of them kissing was there, it had a few likes and comments before Auston untagged himself, but nothing of Taylour. If someone snaps a picture of Taylour, Auston is 100% convinced Tia would change her mind about the game – and he wouldn’t blame her – all he can do it hope that doesn’t happen.

“No I get it,” sighing, she tries to hide her disappointment. “But things are going good?”

“We’re in a really good place. We talk, spend time together without it being awkward, thinking of asking her on a date and -”

“Auston! A date?” Shock is heavy in her tone as her jaw drops.

This was not something he was going to tell his parents, not until he and Tia were in a good place. Until he was confident they could handle the judgment and questioning his parents undoubtedly would have over the reunion. There is a million ways this can wrong, but all he needs is the one way it can go right.

Softly muttering a fuck and flicking his eyes to the ceiling and back down to the floor, Auston takes a deep breath. “Maybe. But it won’t be until after the playoffs, so I’m 100% focused.”

“Yeah. Hockey is important, you don’t want to be distracted during the playoffs.”

“Yeah.” Auston meant 100% focused on Tia, but he isn’t going to correct her. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Not a big deal?” she scoffs, still processing the news. “In case you forget I saw you right after you met her. You looked exactly like this -”

“Mom –“

“I just want you to be sure. I know you have a kid and all these feelings come back, but last time you were hurt so bad when it ended. I don’t want that to happen again…for her to walk away and –“

“Mom, it won’t be like last time.”

Auston still hasn’t told his parents the truth of what happened after Zurich. This part of him knows that won’t really play change their opinion of Tia, because their opinion isn’t based on the amazing woman Auston fell in love with in Zurich, it’s based solely on her profession. It’s also something he doesn’t know how to bring up. While Alex and Bree know that they were both blocked from the others social media, neither of them know the circumstance. At this point, nobody does besides those Tia has told.

“So things are going really well if you want to take her on a date,” Ema tries to press the issue, knowing there is a million and one concerns she has right now.

“Yeah things are going great all around,” he explains, using his years of media training he tries to steer the conversation another direction. “Teams doing good, Taylour’s good - loves his room here, he has spent a bit of time with Fred, think he might like him more than me.” Auston is the only one to laugh, Ema waiting for a chance to talk, fully aware of her sons intentions. “I have a collection of scribbles that Taylour swears are picture of him and I…I don’t know I don’t see it. He’s spent the night a few times, came to a practice and loved the Zamboni.” Rambling off a mile a minute, word vomit spews out of him and he doesn’t even remember what he is trying to deflect from. “We updated his birth certificate and are trying to work out some kind of summer –“

“YOU DID WHAT!” Ema screams into the camera, cutting him off.

Shit, Auston thinks to himself. Auston fully intended on telling his family when they are in town in a few weeks.

“Yeah…uh…” he laughs uncomfortably, running his hand through his hair. “That’s why I missed your first call.”

Tears brim in her eyes as she brings a hand to her lips, gasping while processing the news. Auston smiles wider than anything Ema has ever seen. “So things are going good, like real good?”

“Yeah.” His eyes shift away from the camera as heat burns his cheeks, followed by an awkward laugh.

“Daddy?” Taylour sniffles from the hall, grasping Geoffrey’s arm the stuffed monkey dangles at his side. Taking a few steps in, Auston’s head snaps to meet the sound, his smile instantly fades noting the quivering of his bottom lip.

“I’ll talk to you later mom.” Quickly hanging up Auston welcomes the interruption, grateful to avoid the interrogation that was undoubtedly coming his way. Standing up, he slides his phone into his pocket and with a few strides Auston is picking up Taylour, attempting to calm him down.

Between the uneasy breathing and scattered sniffles, a few sharp yawns can be heard. Soothing his hand over his back in soft circles, Taylour’s head lands on Auston’s shoulder as he cries. Sighing, Auston takes him back down the hall, but instead of taking him back to bed, Auston takes him to his room. Pulling back the edge of his duvet he places Taylour in the middle and crawls in beside him. He holds him tight, constantly soothing and shushing him, knowing that it won't be long until he falls back asleep.

Taglist: If you are in this list you have expressed interest in the series (either through likes/reblogs or by asking). If it’s crossed out your tag didn’t work. If you would like to be removed or added to the list send me an ask:

@ashleymarine @albal321 @b34ut1fulb4st4rds @biznastysloneshift12 @burkylover @c-tangerine @canadian-girl87 @crazzyfann @dana-hqy @delighttfulll @evawest5 @every-beautifulthing-thereis @greendragonzz @heatherawoowoo @hockeybabe87 @hockeyinaussie @hockeyisit @hockeypuckedmeup @holyalfalfasprout @je-ne-regrette-rien @localcalumhoe @partypoison00 @princesscameston @puccbunni @queenmarvel21 @sixmapleleafs @starswin @trashforbarzal @0kikina0 @1-fuzzy-squirrels @janeydeaux @stuff4me2do @afuturemilf @eclecticfashionbookszipper @canesjedi31 @monnbc

[anonsleap]

I saw you wanted requests! Could you write a romantic x reader headcanon with Mukuro Ikusaba, the 16th student lying hidden somewhere in this school. The one they call the Ultimate Despair. Watch out for her...

But seriously, could you write headcanons for a Mukuro x Reader where Mukuro is a little overprotective and a little obsessed with the reader and the reader is completely chill with it? And the reader is touch-starved and loves to complement and sometimes even flirt with Mukuro? Sorry if it's a little specific...

Dude I started writing this and I was like “oddly specific, but still kinda cute..” and then. I Discovered that I love this idea so much and I got carried away but it is just so cute and every day I find out that i simp for a new fictional character but damnit she deserves love.

Cw: Junko Enoshima being herself, manipulation (junko manipulating mukuro), fluff, swearing

Obsessive Mukuro with a touch-starved S/O

She's not used to positive feedback, let alone compliments or flirting. She’s used to being ridiculed and bossed around by Junko. She was kind of mentally wired to think that any attention was affection, and that she should be grateful that anybody gives enough of a damn to acknowledge her.

So whenever you compliment her, she takes a moment to think. It kind of confuses her. Are you being sarcastic? Is it a joke? Why is she suddenly deserving of affection?

She doesn’t really get it. She should be happier when Junko, her idol, her sister who she looks up to, is constantly degrading her over a few compliments sprinkled in here and there. So why did this feel better?

And then the flirting started and Oh Boy, she cannot process this level of joy. Not only do you think she’s talented and beautiful and smart and not smelly, but you also want to date her?

Sign her tf up dude she will drop anything and everything for you, just say the word. Junko hates it.

Whenever Junko tries to attack you, emotionally or otherwise, Mukuro actually backs you up! She feels so much stronger with you supporting her. She never would have had the courage (or the mindset) to stand up to her.

She is also touch starved so get ready for a lot of hand holding, hugs, snuggles, etc.

WALKING WITH ARMS LINKED

She may have become more confident because of you, but she’s still nervous that someone might come to snatch you away from her (metaphorically).

So she’s big on pda

Just kinda letting everyone know not so subtly that you two are very much in love and that they cannot have you.

Most people in Fenrir have heard so much about you

But only the good parts

From what she tells them you might as well be an angel

Because that’s who you are in her eyes

You came and gave her strength, and showed her what she brought to the world, and you helped her get out of a toxic family relationship.

She sees everything about you as amazing. Are you in the reserve course? Wow, you have amazing life goals!

Illegal talent? She loves that you’re brave enough to defy authority and how mysterious you are! (What if we held hands while robbing a bank… Jk, jk…unless?)

Are you lonely as fuck? Bitch same! We can be lonely together!

Sometimes you just sit together in silence, just being together. It makes her feel better to not have to worry about saying something stupid or upsetting you.

You feel so loved and supported and having her by your side helps you take on so much more than you ever could.

[slimeypuppy]

could we have stewy getting jealous? (agent!AU)

Stewy has to hand it to whoever Logan hired to make this wedding happen, because it's a beautiful affair. Rava's dress is elegant and beautiful, classic without being too modest, and Kendall's suit is probably the most well tailored item of clothing he's ever worn. The soft color palette of greens, blues, golds, and ivories provides a serene atmosphere. It's a tense wedding; everyone who's anyone is here, witnessing Logan's public claim over this young Yale grad who never stood a chance in the world. She's Kendall's, she's Logan's, she's no longer people. He wonders if she falls under the No Real Person Involved Clause, a rule Logan invokes when one of his children has feelings. Stewy has the unfortunate burden of knowing Rava is a person, one whose bank account is thoroughly padded for her trouble of marrying Kendall.

His own suit fits like a glove, and if he didn't already know that, the way Kendall looks at him through the night is a clue. Between dances with Rava and hushed business conversations with guests, Stewy finds Kendall watching him move about the room, flawlessly talking up future contractors or partners because if there's one thing Sandy taught him, it's that he should always be working the room.

He keeps away from any of the Roy family, which proves easy. Logan relaxes in his chair, letting people come to him, Roman has flirted his way across the crowd, and Kendall is constantly being commandeered either from Rava or by Rava. He has no business with them that needs mentioning or convincing tonight. They can do their thing and he can do his. At least three lesser agents, freshies sent to represent the CIA and scope the dynamic out, all but fall to their knees for him. It's David this, David that, David how did you do it, David are you seeing anyone, David is it true you did this insane thing? He's bored of them quickly and sends them scampering off with a mental note to speak to Logan. He's not going to attend these kinds of things if he has to deal with awestruck baby-faced incompetents. It's an insult to them both that they're sent such unseasoned idiots. They're not even full agents, most of them. It's a safety precaution, he understands, but he doesn't have to like it.

After politely telling the most recent groupie to fuck off, Kendall finally breaks from the crowd long enough to reach him, putting a hand on Stewy's back and asking him to come out for a smoke with him. It's an easy out, one Stewy takes despite knowing Kendall's been strictly frisked a number of times tonight to make sure he remains sober through the whole affair. Stewy doesn't have anything with him either, since whoever's responsible for Kendall getting into something winds up with their head on the chopping block.

"You've been busy," Kendall says once they're outside, taking in the refreshing night air together. "You had your hands down everyone's pants." He pauses. "Metaphorically of course, babe."

"Yeah. It would probably be rude to cheat on the groom at his wedding."

Kendall scoffs. "Cheating, Stewy? Really?"

"I was joking. Relax. I'm not..." he pauses to make a vague gesture. He means to keep his mask on tightly, but Kendall has a way of dismantling it, and Stewy's nerves have been frayed since he received the invitation to this. "I know what this is. You know what this is."

"My marriage, or us."

"Both."

He could really use a smoke right now, he thinks, but it'll have to wait until he's safe at home, alone in the bed he's so often shared with Kendall while Kendall and Rava consummate atop their own brand new sheets. Stewy bought those covers for them, off the registry that was more for status than anything else. Kendall could afford everything on it twelve times over. He takes pride in the fact that when they fuck, it will be on a bed he had a hand in making.

"I'm not going anywhere, man," Kendall says. "I'm uh, I'm not a different person, or disappearing suddenly because I've got a mail-order wife."

"Ooh, romantic. Did you run that one by her?"

"What I mean to say is that nothing changes, not with us. You're still my partner."

That word strikes a chord so deep in Stewy's chest that it aches. He buries it down fast and checks his watch to see how much time they have left before someone comes to get them. If he had to guess, it's only a couple of minutes. No time for anything meaningful.

"Partner, Ken? You're a couple centuries and a couple thousand miles off for that one."

Kendall elbows him softly. "It's true. We're like partners at work, right? And we spend most of our time together even when we're not busy. Do you have another word to describe it?" He crosses his arms and stares at Stewy with the ghost of a smile on his lips. "Don't tell me you'd prefer lover or mistress."

"Rava's the other woman," Stewy corrects, even though it doesn't matter. "Technically, I've been here longer, so she's your mistress."

"Only if you're my partner."

"Has anyone ever told you you're fucking annoying?"

Instead of responding, Kendall grabs Stewy's lapels and pulls him in for a kiss, a balm to something inside of Stewy that he hadn't realized needed soothing. He sighs and allows himself a count of three to enjoy the kiss before pulling away and straightening his suit.

"I'll be by tomorrow," Kendall says, and slips back inside.

[sircarolyn]

vaduz thoughts:

ok babes it’s time - it’ll be no surprise to anyone that this is my fav episode of all time and i’m not sorry for how long my thoughts on it will probably be. i know this ep off by heart. let’s go

how long have they all been stood there bickering about the plan. how many recaps have there been before this point

‘some people do.... we don’t though’ 

herc just wants a nice holiday <3

ok but like... what if this was the first time that carolyn really thought about herc and his serial divorces.... hmm...

‘hercules shipwright did you just do a my ex-wife’s so fat joke’

THERESA!!!! i adore this woman i love her 

and a classic finnemore set up of the dragon metaphor, even though we know carolyn and theresa are best dragony friends together 

‘it will allow me to catch my breath from all the hilarity’ 

love that theresa just doesn’t give a shit. she’s so mildly amused by all the shenanigans instead of getting angry. how often does this sort of thing happen to this poor woman

windsurfing lessons <3 can you imagine!!!

herc just wants her to stay.... she just wants the first out she can find... 

‘low and reverent hoots’ 

‘i reaaaaally have to go’ just. this whole thing is so interesting and important. like her inability to accept that he loves her and her reluctance to let herself love him back... ouch... and all herc wants is her commitment to him, for her to just be willing to stay. and then she is. oh my god. she could so easily back out here and leave and that would probably be it. end of relationship. but she chooses to stay. oh my godddddddd

‘of course you have’ douglas is such a prat <3

petanque! makes me laugh so much

martin stop being a tit to the ground crew 

‘shall i offer to take his crown’ what a sweetheart

douglas’ incredulity at the fact martin has medals, and then the ruthless mockery of them afterwards, classic 

and arthur <3

godddd and herc knows what a big deal it is that she’s stayed with him. clearly she’s cold and mean and not at all forthcoming with her feelings but like. she stayed. and that is as good as admitting anything, for her 

‘don’t ask don’t tell like gay american soldiers before 2011′ the best line

‘soft shoe shuffle’ <3 

‘she is in.... front of you’ poor theresa i love her so much 

martin’s trying so so hard to be cool and douglas is just being a twat, as per. comedy gold

‘green truck!’ 

‘children can be so cool’ douglas and theresa being witty together would be such a killer

‘you come with decorations... like a little chirstmas tree’ theresa flirt with me challenge i cannot tell you how much i love her 

‘maxi do we have a medal for teasing recognition’ and martin’s awkward chuckle <3

how much does carolyn want to throw them all in a dungeon sometimes 

‘it’s his fault’ ‘i know’ douglas is at his best chipping in from the sidelines form in this one 

‘we are newton’s worst nightmare’ a quote that haunted me for much of my physics degree

‘if we’re not in this for the medium long term’ ouch! i just... ouch. there’s so much to think about in this scene. like. he just wants her to tell him to stay, he wants her to admit that she wants him there. and he sounds so disappointed that she won’t ask him to, oh my god she’s so emotionally stunted 

carl i love you <3

love that they’ve dipped into arthur’s in flight arts and crafts cupboard. i’m fully willing to believe that exists

‘bit of a dragon is she?’ i fully believe too that theresa does call her that all the time, fondly. it’s like a thing between them

arthur as the royal henchman <3

and martin’s advice, oh buddy, you should take it yourself

theresa wanting to be a pilot <3 

‘i will talk to her’ like carolyn clearly hates being put in her place like this but later, when they’re best friends, they’re going to be so scary and wonderful

theresa and her mother issues.... which is an idea in the fic bank for later 

oh martin and the air museum <3 i feel so fond of him in this one - series 4 martin is certainly the best iteration

[goldrushzukka]

1, 2, 7, 8, 9. (Sorry, i know that's like...all of them)

1. what themes would you like to write about that you feel don’t get explored very often?

i love writing coming out storylines. it’s not really that they’re uncommon, i just find a lot of catharsis in them. 

2. what are some common elements of stories you are tired of seeing? what would you avoid writing about?

i tend to avoid writing sibling dynamics bc i’m an only child and therefore not really. qualified. i love reading it though!! 

7. favourite description in your WIP?

it was really hard to pick one so i have a few answers for this bc i love to talk about myself so. (under the cut bc JESUS this got long but spoilers for and i’ll do anything you say (read it here!) ahead!!!)

- from chapter 2:

Sokka looks at him, a fantasy come to life, and takes off his stupid sweatpants.

He throws them at Zuko’s head, and earns himself a short burst of that real laugh, shocked and unguarded.

“You asshole,” Zuko says. He sits up and grabs Sokka’s hand, pulling him down on top of him. Something comes alive under Sokka’s skin where Zuko’s fingers graze his wrist. He calls it lust and ignores the fact that it feels nothing like it.

Zuko kisses him, his mouth still in the shape of laughter, and the alive thing screams for his attention. Sokka buries it and hopes it won’t deafen him before they’re done.

im very fond of this whole chapter (i think it’s probably my favourite? it was definitely the easiest to write) but i really love looking back on this part particularly now that we’re in the angsty part of the story bc this is where it all started. yes technically it started in chapter 1 but this is when sokka starts to fall for zuko. this is the beginning of all those pesky non-casual feelings that he’s going to pretend don’t exist until someone else calls him out on them.

- also from chapter 2:

He’s forty-five minutes late already, and when he knocks, a woman made of pursed lips and sharp angles answers the door. She looks elegant and expensive the same way a skyscraper does. Or a cache of medieval weaponry.

“Oh,” Sokka says, digging into his pocket to find the map on his phone. “I must have the wrong place, sorry -”

She looks him up and down, her eyes narrowed in a way that feels violent and practiced, and her smirk turns distasteful. Sokka risks a glance down at himself, at his torn up jeans - not distressed, just torn - and the Madonna t-shirt he’s pretty sure actually belongs to Katara, and thinks she might have a point. The bag in his hand feels heavier when her eyes land on it.

“Zuzu,” the woman calls into the apartment, “your dinner’s here.”

“I didn’t order -” Zuko appears in the doorway, bitter frustration in his expression as he looks at the woman.

His eyes fall on Sokka, though, and his face clears into a light-pollution smile.

this is technically two so i will start with: i love azula. i haven’t found any room to bring her back yet but believe me i am LOOKING. she’s hot and mean and gay and i LOVE HER. oh also insider scoop but suki’s date from earlier in this chapter.......WAS azula. they probably won’t see each other again because once azula met sokka and connected his face to the Best Friends Forever picture frame on suki’s desk she stopped answering the phone.

pt 2: i’ve had a couple of comments mention the “light-pollution smile” line specifically and i am always so happy to read them bc yeah. YEAH. i’ll admit it. that line HITS. 

- from chapter 4:

He sets his phone down - only, he doesn’t. He misses the table by a mile, and in his scramble to catch his phone before it breaks on the hardwood floor and wakes Momo on the cushion beside him, his hand finds the lip of his cereal bowl, and then that’s falling, too. He manages to catch the phone, but something in his head gets lost in translation on its way down his arms, and he ends up with a boxers-only lap full of soggy Cheerios.

Momo gets a splash of milk on his back and hisses at Zuko for his crimes, and somehow that’s the worst part of it.

haley @fruitysokka said that this passage reads like an action movie and i think about it all the time. (thank u haley i love u)

- lastly this extended metaphor from chapter 6:

The soup is good, once the heat of it clears him up enough to taste it. It’s thick and warm and there’s enough pepper that Sokka gets a kick from it even in his condition. He feels it all the way down his throat and into his stomach, where it mixes with the prickly nervousness he’s feeling from Zuko’s attention.

He sets the bowl down on the table and asks, eyes stuck on his hands in Momo’s fur where he’s climbed into his lap, “How was the date?”

“It was good, actually,” Zuko says. “Jet seems like a nice guy. He’s very - uh - passionate, I guess you could call it? He’s a climate and human rights activist.”

The spines of Sokka’s nervousness turn to daggers.

...

“I said yes. We’re getting lunch on Sunday.”

The daggers are swords now, and Sokka’s heart sinks down, down, down, right to the hilt.

...

“I’ll text you when I’m home,” Zuko promises, and Sokka’s heart skewers itself on a second sword.

Zuko’s smile when Sokka says, “Thank you for the soup,” is a third.

The door closing behind him is a fourth.

The silence as Sokka shuffles back to bed is every single one that remains.

something something canon swordsmen something pride comes before the fall something chivalry fell on his sword from eden by hozier. you guys get it i dont have to explain myself

8. favourite dialogue in your WIP?

ok so i cant share my actual favourite dialogue bc it's a spoiler for chapter 8 and i technically haven't written it yet (it's in my brain just.....plaguing me) but it's GOOD i SWEAR so. once again i have more than one answer bc actually? i love this fic and im proud of it. deal with it.

- from chapter 1:

“Hey, stranger,” Sokka says, still watching him in the mirror. The corner of Zuko’s mouth ticks up.

“You’re not following me, are you?” Zuko’s tone is seductive, endlessly so, and Sokka wonders while he dries his hands if he has to put it on or if he just sounds like that.

“You give a guy one compliment and he thinks you’re stalking him,” Sokka mutters, and Zuko laughs, low and enticing. Not the genuine, endearing laugh of this morning, but one with an agenda.

Well. Sokka always likes a plan.

“Are you following me? ” Sokka asks. He spies a miraculous dry patch on the sink bank and tries to be casual about the way he hops up to sit on it.

“I might be,” Zuko says, and at Sokka’s raised eyebrow, he continues, “I saw you at the bar and I wanted to talk to you. Sue me.”

“You wanted to talk.”

“Amongst other things.”

as a chronically awkward person i am INSANELY proud of the flirting in this fic. no idea if it would work in a real life situation. excited to never find out bc im not about to use lines from my fanfiction on real women. 

- from chapter 2

“You must be Suki,” Zuko says. He meets her gaze, and his fingers go still under Momo’s chin.

“And you’re Zuko,” Suki replies, her smile all different shades of intimidating. “I’d shake your hand, but I know where it’s just been.”

i wrote this entire scene just so i could have suki say this. im not even joking. suki is my favourite part of this entire fic and its not even ABOUT her.

- from chapter 3:

When Sokka crosses the room and slips under the covers beside him, Zuko says, “I can leave, if you want. I can go home.”

...

He asks, still barely hovering over Zuko, “What if I don’t want that?”

Zuko swallows. “I can stay.”

“So stay,” Sokka says, and lays his head down on Zuko’s chest.

i just think it’s sweet. i like it a lot. makes my heart hurt a little when i think about it. 

- from chapter 4:

[Suki // 15:13] there is a LOT of chmpagrjn

[Suki // 15:13] cahpmhagne

[Suki // 15:13] chsanpghn

[Suki // 15:14] alcohol :)

once again: suki is the best part of this whole fic. i love her so much. she is the reason the word bestie exists. im really proud of the texting in this fic bc it’s my first time actually including it in fic and it’s turned out really well!!

- ok last one bc i just realised this is turning into a novel. from chapter 4:

“How’s my baby?”

Zuko glances down at Momo, batting at the untied laces of his shoes with one determined paw. “He’s doing just fine.”

“And how’s Momo?”

“He’s - what?”

are there better written, more narratively important and emotive lines in this fic? yes. is this the best part of the entire thing? also yes. i invented the jin/yue wedding because i needed a reason for zuko to have a key in what became chapter 6, but sometimes i think the entire fic exists just for this exchange. best dialogue i have ever written.

9. what scene was the hardest for you to write and why?

the start of chapter 6 of aidays was difficult. i kept wanting to skip ahead to the meaty parts - i.e, zuko and his soup - but i didn’t want to do sokka a disservice like that. it was also really hard to maintain the balance of accurately describing the delirium of illness while still being coherent for the reader? so that took me a couple of days to get right.

[shirtlesssammy]

10x03: Soul Survivor

A priest blesses a whole blood bank of blood before Doctor Sam loads up on supplies. 

Back at the bunker, Sam heads to the dungeon and a trussed up Demon!Dean. Let the blood cleansing begin! 

Dean tells Sam to just let him. He doesn’t want this. He has the Mark of Cain. Sam throws holy water on him and shoots him with his first vial of blood. 

Cas and Hannah are road tripping in the Pimpmobile. Hannah wonders how Cas is doing. “Fine.” Narrator: He was not fine. Cas explains to Hannah it’s a very human thing to do --to say you’re fine, but you’re really not, so you avoid talking about things. Well, fling me off a cliff because Cas gets Dean SO WELL but just rolls with his inability to talk because it’s the human way. 

Profile Porn Alert:

Hannah can’t believe that Cas agreed to head back to the bunker to help Sam --or that Sam would ask that considering Cas’s failing grace. Cas admits that Sam doesn’t know, and he’ll need Cas’s help to deal with Dean. If the sanctified blood cure doesn’t work, then Dean is gone and they’ll have to deal with the demon. HIIISSSS. Cas just accepts his role but he’s doing it for Dean. 

Dean, meanwhile, mocks Sam’s efforts and the Winchester Way™. Dean compares who he is now to Sam, and what Sam did to find him. “Which one of us is really the monster?” 

Flashback to Sam talking with a down on his luck dude at a bar. 

His wife kicked him out, and she’s been cheating on him. He wants revenge. Sam tells him he could get payback, if he wants. Sam helps the poor schlub to make a demon deal. Lester makes the deal, and Sam traps the demon to find out where Crowley and Dean are. 

In real time, Dean continues to mock Sam for being worse than him. Lester lost his life and soul. Sam injects him with more blood. 

In Crowley-land, he’s taking care of Hell business when a demon gives him an update on Castiel. His grace is fading. The demon suggests now would be a good time to eliminate the angel. Crowley tells him to tail him and keep him up to date on his decline. 

Crowley takes a moment to relive his summer of love with Dean. It’s hard saying goodbye to an ex, Crowley. Super awkward when you’re caught dissociating while ruling Hell though. The demon that interrupted Crowley offers himself as a companion. 

“You’ll see what I’m worth,” he insists. Crowley snaps him into dust. C’est la vie. 

Cas is getting worse. He will not take more grace from another angel, and he doesn’t want to beg Metatron for his own grace. Hannah insists that he needs to be here to help Dean, to get the angels under control. Cas, taking a book from his drama llama boyfriend, insists that Hannah continues on without him.

Cas gets a call from Sam checking in. Dean’s in pain going through this cleansing. Sam could be killing his brother. Cas makes it clear that they need to stay the course. The purified blood ritual is their only known option. 

Once off the phone, Sam notices that Dean’s passed out. He rouses him, only for Dean to continue trying to put a wedge between them, to stop Sam from trying to save him. “You don’t get to quit on this family.” I appreciate the sentiment, Sam. Sam injects Dean with more blood and walks away. 

Crowley’s busy laying out death sentences to demons in Hell. A demon wonders why they should be loyal to him now, after flirting with being human and running off with his “boy toy”. The demon isn’t going to live in Crowley’s Hell, and sets himself on fire.

At a gas station Cas and Hannah have a forthright conversation. Lol, jk, Cas talks about “dangerous roads” and “no detours.” Hannah begs for him to speak outside of metaphor. But it’s HARD! They need total focus on the saving-Dean and/or finding-angels missions. 

“I’ve been around humans long enough to see how easily distractions occur,” Cas tells Hannah, who gives him some exasperated bitchface in return. “Emotions. Feelings. They’re dangerous temptations,” he warns. CAS, for fuck’s sake, you should never learn emotional management from a Winchester. 

Hannah declares that she’s super clear on Castiel’s priorities, and whirls off into the gas station. Inside, there are snacks and a dead station attendant with his eyes burned out. Urg. Cas follows, only to discover the angel Adina (previously of Daniel and Adina fame) holding Hannah captive. Cas struggles to haul out his blade, and Adina starts tearing into him. He suggests that she kill him and let Hannah go. CAAAAS BBY. Adina’s not in a forgiving mood and she’d like to kill him slowly, villain speech, villain speech. 

Sam heads into Dean’s bedroom during his break and discovers many token Dean identifiers worthy of a fanfic. There’s porn on the bench seat and a pie container nearby with just a few meaningfully unfinished bites left. Slipped in a hunting notepad are old family photos. Sam sifts through the photos, to mournful music.

At the gas station, a pair of expensive shoes approaches. Crowley’s attached to them. He smiles down at a severely injured Castiel. 

Sam heads back to finish demon detox only to discover…

I don’t know why the dramatic zoom in on the chair makes me laugh but...had to include it. Sam discovers his brother is missing! As the kids say, dun dun DUN! 

Adina torments Hannah, eager for her suffering in retribution for the loss of Daniel. Crowley arrives in a cloud of snark, slices Adina’s grace out of her, and then stabs her dead while Hannah glares at him. 

In the bunker, Sam looks for his brother. Dean does the same, except there be REDRUM in them thar eyes. Dean grabs a hammer, and Sam grabs a ring of old keys.

Crowley offers up Adina’s grace to Cas, declaring that the kill was done to save Hannah’s life and that Cas’s “hands are clean.” 

“You’re useless to me dead,” Crowley says lovingly as he pours Adina’s grace into Cas. Light suffuses Cas and restores him to strength and health. Crowley suggests that one good turn deserves another. Dean Winchester has turned out to be a real pill to manage, so if Cas could just take his newfound strength and take care of the Dean problem that would be greeeaaat. Cas warns that he may have to kill Dean. “I’m not sentimental,” Crowley lies. 

Sam and Dean continue to play murder hide and seek. Sam heads into the electrical room and shuts down the bunker so that Dean can’t escape out the doors. Dean reveals that he doesn’t want to leave! Why would he leave when a lovely MURDER PARTY is about to begin? 

Dean indulges in a little exposition while he’s stalking Sam through the bunker. The demon cure was working, making him just human enough to be able to slip out of his bonds and out of the devil’s trap. Sam manages to trap Dean into the electrical room, but Dean starts to break through the door with his hammer. “You act like I wanna be cured,” Dean shouts at him. “Personally, I like the disease.”

Sam scolds him for busting up the bunker and threatens to use the demon blade on him. Oh Sam. Suuuuure you will. Dean’s cool with this turn of events, as he’s feeling ready to murder immediately. Dean manages to sneak up on Sam, but Sam Fucking Winchester has the reflexes of a cat and immediately gets the knife to Dean’s throat. 

It’s looking pretty unfortunate for our heroes when Cas catches hold of Dean. “It’s over,” Castiel says firmly. VERY firmly. Wink wink.

For The Gag Reel Can Never Be Unseen Science:

A little while later, Dean’s back in the chair bearing another hit of sanctified blood. Sam and Cas look on, fretting over Dean. Castiel muses that only humans can feel real joy. Or such profound pain. No wonder why Dean struggles away from his humanity. 

Dean wakes up and black recedes from his eyes. He shakes his head a few times. “You look worried, fellas,” he says in a wry tone and then weathers Sam’s holy water splash. He’s cured!

In the library, Sam and Cas talk over the evening. Cas rains all over Sam’s happy parade: Dean still bears the Mark of Cain and things could still get bad. Sam chooses to ignore this and head out to buy junk food for Dean. 

In his bedroom, Dean sorts through family pictures. When Cas stops by, he greets him with “You look terrible.” Dean accepts this as his due, and notes that Cas is looking good. REAL GOOD.

Cas very poorly explains his current situation. “Crowley. Stolen grace. There’s a female outside in the car.” CAS PLZ. Dean moves past this confusing word salad and asks if Sam has forgiven him. Cas assures him that Sam would forgive him anything, including attempted murder-by-hammer. Cas suggests to Dean that he take some time off. It’s quiet out there, after all.

In a fancy hotel room, blood drips from the ceiling onto a red haired witch. The blood falls from two hotel employees and the witch is….ROWENA!

Will You Be My Quote? Check YES or NO:

Sammy, you know I hate shots

That line that we thought was so clear between us and the things that we hunted, ain’t so clear is it?

I, too, love to party. And I do love the ladies. And the classic rock-and-roll

Sometimes enough is whatever you have

You act like I want to be cured. Personally I like the disease

Want to read more? Check out our Recap Archive! 

[thezodiaczone]

Capricorn Compatibility

CAPRICORN + ARIES (MARCH 21 - APRIL 19) Aries is the Alpha in most relationships, but here the Ram meets his match. In the Goat, Aries finds a more seasoned pack leader, and backs into a rare state of obedience. This weighty respect comes from Capricorn's ruler, wise old Saturn, the planet of maturity, authority and command. Capricorn is the zodiac's father sign; Aries is its firstborn child. It's the difference between a king and a knight, a queen and a duchess. Both are noble, but one is clearly the elder. This can be a dealbreaker for Aries in some cases, as too much paternalism makes this independent sign run for freedom. However, it usually works. Although Aries can be a hellish brat, Capricorn is unruffled and even amused by the tantrums, giving Aries space to act out. If you accept your cosmic roles, you can make excellent partners in both love and business. Aries is ruled by warrior Mars, and Capricorn is a four-star general by nature. You both see life as a battlefield to conquer, and with Aries' grit and Cap's determination, there's no goal you can't achieve. Earthy Capricorn excels at structure and planning, and is the terra firm beneath the Ram's restless hooves. Fiery Aries is a daring playmate who amuses, excites and entertains the sober Goat, especially in the bedroom (where Capricorn has a lesser-known lusty side). Aries is a flirt, and this can spark jealousy in traditional Capricorn. Over time, trust and mutual respect abolish the Goat's fears, and you make supportive lifelong partners.

CAPRICORN + TAURUS (APRIL 20 - MAY 20) ♥♥♥♥ You're fellow Earth signs who really vibe well together. By day, you're both hard-driving workaholics. Taurus is the plodding Bull, Capricorn the sure-footed Mountain Goat. Any business venture you launch together will thrive, and you share a deep respect for tradition, family and long-term security. You're both shrewd financial planners, though your love of earthly pleasures can break the bank, too. Once you punch out and uncork the Sancerre, you morph into a pair of hedonists. Sleeping and lounging are favorite pastimes, and on weekends, a forklift couldn't pry you off the sofa. However, Capricorn is far more self-disciplined than the indulgent Bull. Taurus is ruled by Venus, the goddess of beauty and pleasure; Capricorn by strict Saturn, the cosmic taskmaster. Where Taurus is a megalomaniac forever humming his own praise song, poor Cappy flogs himself for even the slightest misstep. Saturn's repression also gives Cap an eccentric side; he can fall into melancholy or fatalistic spells that confound Taurus. The Goat is always planning for rainy days—and as karma goes, plan for a downpour, and you'll surely get one. Taurus refuses to pack an umbrella, for he can't fathom worrying about something that hasn't even happened yet, nor shown up on the radar. You both have something to teach each other. The Bull is gifted at savoring the present, while nostalgic Capricorn obsesses over the past and the future. Strive to get your timing right.

CAPRICORN + GEMINI (MAY 21 - JUNE 20) A metaphor for this match: a music producer combines a soulful 1970s classic (Capricorn) with funky electronic hooks (Gemini) and delivers a mashup that's either a mess or a chart-topping hit. You couldn't be any more different if you tried, yet you can really benefit from each other's natural resources. Gemini is ruled by speedy Mercury, the lightning-fast trickster who speaks in silver-tongued half truths. Capricorn's overlord is Saturn, the cautious, conservative planetary patriarch, who only trusts that which stands the test of time. Gemini is versatile and restless, like a fusebox with a million criss-crossed wires. Capricorn is the dutiful ox who carries the yoke and plows the field, rarely diverging from routine. While Capricorn's dogged consistency and family loyalty can frustrate Gemini ("How can you let these people walk all over you?" Gemini asks, referring to Cap's elderly parents), it also grounds the scattered Twins.Gemini is Capricorn's one-man circus, keeping the Goat amused and entertained, adding color to his monochromatic world. You both have a lusty, experimental side, too. The magic really appears when you get physical, which happens fast, since your sexual attraction is intense. In fact, Capricorn is one of the few signs that can spike Gemini's jealousy. There are so many people who rely on sturdy, supportive Cap, and Gemini doesn't like to compete for the spotlight. To make this work, Gemini will have to accept that Capricorn's loyalty extends to family and lifelong friends. Stoic Cap will need to show a little more emotion, since impish Gemini needs to know he can get under Capricorn's skin. It will take time to work out the kinks, but the erotic tet-a-tets will be worth the trouble.

CAPRICORN + CANCER (JUNE 21 - JULY 22) ♥♥♥♥ Paging June and Ward Cleaver! Cancer is astrology's mother and Capricorn is its patriarch. You're opposite signs that might very well polarize into these retro roles. On the zodiac wheel, Cancer rules the fourth house of home, family and femininity. Capricorn governs its tenth house of fatherhood, authority, masculinity and ambition. In many ways, it's nice to have a mate who happily redresses your shortcomings. Yet, it can also be off-putting. Cancer longs for touch and affection, misty-eyed Hallmark moments and emotionally naked conversations. Stoic Capricorn can be stiff and formal, a closet neurotic who pooh-poohs Cancer's feelings as overblown melodramas. In truth, Capricorn just internalizes his feelings, then falls into depressions or flogs himself mercilessly. You must learn the other's "love language" to succeed as a couple.Cancer shows caring through sentimental gestures, food, togetherness and well-intended nagging. Capricorn's expression is through duty—bringing home a steady paycheck, showing up on time, holding it together when everyone else falls apart. Capricorn must learn to honor Cancer's feelings and intuition; the Crab must develop gratitude for Capricorn's loyalty and quiet wisdom. Parenting is where you really shine as a team. Raising children is the ultimate honor for your signs, as well as a creative challenge. You're both loyal to your families, no matter how much they drive you crazy. This is a quality you respect in each other. At the end of the day, you share enough common values to make a solid, lifelong match.

CAPRICORN + LEO (JULY 23 - AUGUST 22) You're insatiably attracted, but you often end up hurting each other through a series of misunderstandings and ego battles. Leo is ruled by the confident Sun, Capricorn by self-doubting Saturn. That's just the start of your differences. Leo is a starry-eyed Fire sign who believes that anything can be achieved by sheer willpower and the refusal to take "no" for an answer. Capricorn is a traditional Earth sign, equally ambitious, but rarely willing to color outside the lines. He approaches life like a steady Mountain Goat, taking tentative steps toward his ten-year goals. Your different pacing could drive you both mad. Although loyal Capricorn is usually the stalwart partner in relationships, Leo is far more devoted in this match. Lusty Capricorn is mostly interested in sex. While you'll have plenty of hot romps, Leo can mistake Capricorn's physical attraction for love. Oops! The Lion must perform due diligence, and assume nothing. Unlike Leo, Capricorn's love is hard-won, not something he hands out like candy to Trick-or-Treaters. Then, there's the cheerleading that grates on the Goat. Leo urges Cap to believe in himself, which the Goat laughs off as fluff ripped straight from a cheesy self-help tome. Yet, lo!—Leo follows Covey's seven steps and becomes a highly successful person. Instead of congratulating Leo, war is declared: Capricorn scoffs at Leo's dreams, and Leo sets out to prove Capricorn wrong ("I'll show you!"). Before long, you stay together just to spite each other. What's the point?

CAPRICORN + VIRGO (AUGUST 23 - SEPTEMBER 22) ♥♥♥♥ You're pragmatic Earth signs who strike a perfect balance between sensible and sensual. You bring out the best in one another. Virgo is ruled by Mercury, the communication planet. A natural psychologist and articulate speaker, this sign likes to talk everything out. Stoic Capricorn is ruled by stern, repressed Saturn, and struggles to voice his feelings. Capricorn benefits from Virgo's ability to draw him out of dark thoughts. When Virgo's anxieties take hold, practical Capricorn brings a helpful dose of perspective. Dutiful souls, you take care of parents, friends and family members, and your cozy home is everyone's favorite crash pad. Holidays and parties are warm, congenial affairs, and nobody wants to leave. Marriage is a sure success, and you laugh often, excellent medicine for your serious signs. The lovely thing about this combination is how natural you can be—a refreshing break from your formal public demeanors. A favorite example: One Virgo friend, a singer-songwriter, was stricken with a creative block. Her Capricorn husband poked his head into her studio, and found her obsessing. She launched into complaining, and he deftly interrupted: "Wanna f---?" A satisfied hour later, she finished the song. Offensive to prim Virgo from any other sign, but Capricorn can go there. You relax into your carnal natures around each other, loosening up in ways that few other signs can elicit.

CAPRICORN + LIBRA (SEPTEMBER 23 - OCTOBER 22) Capricorn is the provider sign, forever seeking a mate in need of financial backing. Libra is a vain dilettante who's happy to play muse to an Earthy benefactor. You have your oft-irreconcilable differences, yet you stay together all the same. In many ways, you have what the other needs. Libra is a master of social graces with a billion air-kissed "friends." Capricorn can be an antisocial grumble-puss who cleaves to childhood cronies and family. Libra spends on impulsive pleasures; Capricorn plans for tomorrow. Battles can be brutal. You're both convinced of your natural superiority; your haughty contretemps and ego showdowns merit a Bravo series. Of course, antisocial Capricorn would never allow cameras into the estate, while Libra would whip together a stylist, understudy and five-star craft services. Therein lies the difference: your values. Not an easy hurdle to scale, even for a determined Goat or a patient Judge. A successful relationship will require much compromise. The fawning affection romantic Libra craves will be in short order. Capricorn shows love through acts of service and loyalty, not pandering. Libra must learn to accept love in a less-adorned package, and trade a few parties for cozy nights in. Capricorn must exit the cave to meet new people, play host and smile once a season. You can do it—but will you be happy? That's the question.

CAPRICORN + SCORPIO (OCTOBER 23 - NOVEMBER 21) ♥♥♥♥ If you were to sign a pre-nup, Schedule A must clearly designate who will play the "Top" and who will be the "Bottom." After your attorneys haggle over the prone position, you may just call off the engagement. An inability to reach settlement is likely for two uncompromising Alphas such as yourselves. Although your business-savvy signs can make quite the contemporary Napoleon and Josephine, LLC, there are terms that must be negotiated in advance. For one, you'll need to swear off secrecy—and that will be the true test of your relationship. Scorpio and Capricorn are masters of underhanded power plays that could topple this merger fast. Your first job: learn and practice direct communication ("whip me like THIS" or "no, darling, the leather corset, not the PVC"). Master it, and the rest is a cakewalk. You can lash each other to bedposts, tryst on the conference table in your glass-paned office tower, or earn your mile-high wings with nary a flight attendant knowing. The 2.5 kids you produce will have some interesting conception stories, that's for sure. Not that you'll ever tell. A little secrecy with the rest of the world is fine. Just make sure to erase those sex tapes before the housekeeper finds them.

CAPRICORN + SAGITTARIUS (NOVEMBER 22 - DECEMBER 21) The fate of this match rests in your ability to merge your strengths. Sagittarius is the visionary and the starry-eyed optimist; Capricorn is the master architect and builder, the ultimate realist. You each excel where the other is weak, and you make excellent business partners. However, your values and lifestyles can be vastly different, complicating romance. It's like the class clown dating the class president—an odd couple indeed. To Sagittarius, it's fascinating that anyone could possess such restraint. Stoic Capricorn cracks hard-won smiles at Sagittarius' antics and amusing insights. Yet, Sag optimism soon clashes with Cap pessimism, and here's where you reach your impasse. Restless Sagittarius needs a playmate to dream and scheme, but cautious Cappy shoots holes in the Archer's impetuous ideas, pointing out the foundational flaws. Yet, it's that grim, unvarnished realism that saves the day in a crisis. While Sagittarius freaks out and lapses into denial, Earthy Capricorn holds a powerful, Zenlike acceptance of "what is." Love truly blooms when you make it through a dire breakdown and realize your incredible teamwork turned the ship around. For the long haul, independent Sag must allow Capricorn to be the rock, and the Goat must learn to take a few more bold personal risks.

CAPRICORN + CAPRICORN (DECEMBER 22 - JANUARY 19) Two ambitious Capricorns are on a lifelong mission to get ahead. If you can reach the brass ring faster by teaming up, then why not? You certainly admire each other's unflagging determination and crafty tactics—and you apply your business savvy to courtship, much like a game of chess. Name-dropping is akin to sexual banter for your sign, and "getting into the VIP section" sounds like a kinky metaphor. In a way, it is. You're titillated by power and yearn to be part of the elite. Sure, it may sound cold and calculating, but by nature you're a goal-oriented sign who lives by a long-term plan. Thus, your mate must fit neatly into the picture. You're a pair of workaholics with a closet kinky streak, and if you can leave the office before midnight, you'll enjoy a lusty connection behind closed doors. At the same time, you cleave strongly to time-honored tradition and remain loyal to your childhood friends for life. Parental approval and proper stock is a must. No matter how much you love someone, if he/she doesn't fit into the family dynasty, it's a deal breaker.

CAPRICORN + AQUARIUS (JANUARY 20 - FEBRUARY 18) This is the match of the traditionalist and the rebel, the rule-maker and the rule-breaker. Capricorn is the guardian of history, and Aquarius is an innovator who has little regard for the past. If you can meet somewhere in the present, it's sure to be interesting. Disciplined Capricorn can teach Aquarius the value of structure, and Aquarius can help Cap think outside the box. You're both competitive and controlling in your own ways, and few signs can rival your work shared work ethic. The wheeler-dealer light never switches off in either of you—you'll hand out business cards at a funeral. Still, you might be better off as professional partners, since your bedside manner is so different. Lusty Capricorn may be aloof in public, but this sensual Earth sign is a bona fide freak in the sheets. Although Aquarius may love to shock people in public, behind closed doors your interest in sex can be tepid at best. (As the ruler of electricity, gadgets may be preferable.) Socially, Capricorn can be cold or snobbish, choosing friends based on status. Popular Aquarius befriends everyone—don't be surprised if the Chinese food delivery guy ends up at the dinner table sharing your Hunan chicken. Still, Capricorn can be an important grounding force for Air-sign Aquarius, preventing you from floating off into the ether. Life is never dull with an unpredictable Aquarian.

CAPRICORN + PISCES (FEBRUARY 19 - MARCH 20) On the surface, you might seem like an odd match—imagine a Harvard MBA in Armani dating a paint-splattered artist in Oshkosh. Yet, your signs pair well, even if you don't want to admit it. With classic good looks and a dutiful nature, Capricorn fits neatly into the system. Pisces is a flowy Fish who excels at playing the the artsy rebel, the indie darling, the adorable mess. By comparison, Capricorn seems structured and regimented—but appearances deceive. While Pisces may delight in coloring outside the neat lines Capricorn draws, the real surprise is that Capricorn is the bigger freak behind closed doors. Capricorn has a dominant, even cruel streak that can play out in the bedroom (not that submissive Pisces doth protest). Leather, whips and kinky fun—it's all fair game. You both love to find lesser-known wine, music, and art, a pride yourself on having cultivated tastes. Together, you can traverse the tony uptown spaces to the lowbrow dives, discovering cultural jewels wherever you go. Your diverse strengths could make you great business partners, too. Open a gallery, with Pisces as curator and Capricorn as financial backer.

[pellicano-sanguino]

A while ago I wrote that I was reading through an anthology of lesbian vampire stories to find a good one to read to White Rabbit, and that I was disappointment in the lack of lesbians and the amount of het sex and rape forced into the stories. I was especially disappointed because the authors of the anthology were women and they should know better. 

Well, I have now finished the anthology and the rest of the stories....   kept disappointing in one way or the other.

One story told of a woman who gets lost in the Amazon rainforest and is hunted and seduced by a vampire that lives there. The concept is good, a fascinating and a rather unusual setting for a vampire story. But the writing is very confusing and kinda pretentious and the sort of realism that thinks in order to captivate the true reality one must focus on all the disgusting things and describe them in great detail. Like, I feel every other sentence is TMI fest of going into the condition of the blisters in the main character’s feet or of all the bugs scampering over her when she stumbles and falls. And when we finally do get into the vampire bit, it’s just vaguely described and kinda weird and surreal and...   I don’t know, like from a completely different story. I suppose the change in writing style is supposed to symbolize the main character being under the vampire’s hypnosis or something? 

The odd writing style makes this a very tedious read for someone whose native language isn’t English, because most of the I sure am reading words but fuck if they make any sense. For example, the author talks about a person as if she’s there and it took me a long time to realize this person is NOT there, but is...   a ghost? A memory? A flashback into past or future? The main character’s imaginary friend/named sense of purity or some other symbolic shit? The author clearly intended this to be a story that you need to read several times to understand what happens and piece together the cryptic text. Hahaha nope. I am done with this pretentious fuckery.

Next story is...   sigh...   taking place in a gay club that is also into heavy BDSM. Because of fucking course that is how the hets see lesbians, to them homosexuality is a just a kink. Not only do we get descriptions of very brutal, bloody non-con sadism, we also have to read about men doing it (with women, of course. What, were you expecting gay men in this gay club? Or lesbians in your lesbian vampire anthology?). I know not all lesbians are actively grossed out by dicks but rather just completely disinterested in them, but still...   why would you write a story about a lesbian vampire and force the reader to read three - three! - detailed descriptions of a mens’ erections.

Boy, are the writers of this anthology pissed that they did not write their lesbian masterpieces in our modern times when identity havers are vigorously attempting to redefine lesbianism as “non-men being attracted to non-men.” Today, the authors could write all the dick sucking, male orgasm centered het sex they want and still call it lesbian sex as long as the penis-bearer doesn’t identify as a man. They no longer need to try to sneak in the het sex and then write some half-assed plot about them disgusting gay women.

Though, to be fair, I don’t think it’s just the het sex these writers want to force in their lesbian stories. They specificly want to write about rape, questionable consent and painful sex. And I have a theory on why.

When analyzing why some people are hell bent on putting certain elements in their vampire story, one needs to figure out why they were originally drawn into writing a vampire story in the first place. What is it about the vampire as a creature that fascinates them? What sets the vampire apart from other supernatural creatures is their parasitic nature. You take away the blood drinking and you could replace the vampire character with something else and not have it affect the plot in any way. However, surprisingly many people who write vampire stories aren’t that interested in the blood drinking (much to my disappointment) and more into the power imbalance this diet creates between vampires and humans.

Relationships between a vampire and a human have a massive power imbalance, even when the vampire isn’t the kind that has super human strength and other special powers. If a vampire does not drink blood, they will perish. This simple fact forces them to be at best harmless parasites, at worst dangerous predators. Even with civilized vampires who get their blood from butchers, blood banks or who use synthetic blood substitutes, the special diet of a vampire cannot be ignored when they interact with humans. Imagine a civilized vampire like this stranded on an island with some humans - no one can blame them for stealing blood from the humans for survival in such a scenario. No matter how kind, how sworn to be friendly to humankind, the very nature of vampirism makes it so that humans and vampires can’t coexist together as if there is not a power imbalance in place.

Some writers are very into this power imbalance. The act of drinking someone’s blood, even from a willing donor, is an act of parasitism. The human is harmed, their skin is pierced, their blood is drawn and their body will suffer consequences for it, even if for some donors those are mild. The only one walking away from the act having benefited from it is the vampire. You can romanticize the act, you can give the vampire powers to make their bite painless, you can make the human the one who asks for it, but the act remains the same. A human is wounded and will suffer from minor blood loss, the vampire takes from them and gives nothing in return.

I admit, the blood drinking is what draws me to vampire stories. I am fascinated by the concept of a creature that is by its nature forced to become parasitic. But unlike creatures that eat actual human flesh, the vampire has the option to choose between becoming a predator or becoming a parasite. The ability to be civilized, or pretend to be civilized, with humankind creates interesting emotional bonds between a vampire and their victim/host/donor. 

However, I am not interested in making blood drinking a metaphor for sex. It just does not work. 

A vampire’s very survival is depending on them securing a bloody meal regularly. No one’s survival is depending on them getting laid regularly, no matter what rape culture advocating men crying about sex being a basic need and a human right want you to believe. No one has ever dropped dead because they didn’t have sex. And that’s why the blood drinking as metaphor for sex is flawed. 

So, because the nature of vampirism demands that there must be blood drinking, that there must be harming of another living creature and stealing away a part of their body (blood is a liquid organ, consisting of living cells, drinking blood is an act of consuming living tissue), naturally people who are turned on by the idea of harming others or of being harmed and who are into non-con, would find the vampire as a concept fascinating. To them, a vampire attacking a human is equally arousing as fantasizing about rape, the idea of being bitten so deep that your blood is spilled as exciting as their other sadomasochistic kinks.

Bottom line: I get why people want to put so much sexual violence in their vampire stories. I hate it and wish they didn’t, but at least I see what motivates them to do so. 

Ahem. Back to the anthology.

The only good thing about the gross BDSM story is that there is an actual lesbian sex scene in it and that it makes blood into a plot point. Too many vampire stories just ignore the blood drinking and do it off screen, or have it be completely meaningless to the characters and story. Admittedly, the way blood is used in this story isn’t anything new or super interesting but at least they remembered to put some actual real blood drinking lesbian vampires in their lesbian vampire story. * sarcastically side-eyes the other stories*

After this we get what I consider the strongest story in the anthology. It’s still not particularly good, but the bar is set low, so yeah. This is a rather long short story, a scifi one, about a vampire and a single human sharing a space ship for a long journey, during which they start having casual sex and the human eventually learns about the vampire’s real nature. The characters aren’t that interesting, but the concept of a vampire in space is a fascinating one. I was disappointed that the writer didn’t make the endless darkness of space a place for the vampire to be free from the fear of the sun and instead still makes her react badly to some kind of day to night cycle (it’s space! There is no sun in immediate vicinity! Why would you react badly to “oh well, back in Earth it’s sun time by now”?). Another fascinating part is that this vampire doesn’t steal blood from the human in the traditional method, but instead, um...   performs certain sex act to her when she’s on her period. And this is the reason why she always insists on a female crew member.

Unfortunately not even this story is free from rape. The vampire tells her backstory, about how the man who turned her also raped her. Fortunately she does not describe it in detail but....   why must there be a rape in every single lesbian vampire story? Also, the sex scenes were a bit underwhelming, the vampire being very strictly stone butching the whole thing and not letting the human touch or pleasure her in any manner. Sigh. I know there are lesbians like this, but I can’t help but be reminded of the hets asking “so which one of you is the man?” Also, I wish I could read more lesbian romance, more flirting, more seducing and less of this no-emotional-bonds meaningless-fucking casual sex.

The last story is another pretentious one, this one even worse that the Amazon rainforest story. I...  think it’s about a vampire...   chatting with her parrot that has human-like intellect? I have no fucking idea what is going on. The writing is filled with snooty people talk and fancy words that no one uses in real life and it pisses me off.

“The parrot stuck its head on one side, began its swaying little dance shuffle, and gave a convincing rendition of “Viens poupoule.” It had nothing against lesbians and had been an admirer of Natalie Barney’s ever since a migrating cuckoo told it of the time Natalie, dressed only in a white nightgown, had herself delivered on Renée in a coffin full of enormous lilies. In its decadent period, when it has insisted on dyeing its feathers black and wearing World War Two dog tags round its neck, the parrot had even fancied itself Natalie’s ornithological opposite number, but John’s new slide rule, whom it was courting at the time, refused to attempt a Renée Vivien impersonation. That sour, unimaginative instrument had declared it had nothing whatever in common with the young, blond-haired poet, that anyone who could discern any points of comparison between any mathematical instrument and a blond-haired poet was certainly a surrealist, if not worse. The parrot had got a lot of satisfaction the day John came home from the university and declared, “With the mass production of the pocket calculator, the slide rule is dead.”

I’m gonna make a guess and say that the chances of an audience that enjoys this kind of pretentious fuckness aren’t going to be the target audience to look for their fancy-ass prose in a lesbian vampire story anthology. Just a guess.

I did find this bit funny, though:

“- - - Renée died in 1909, Natalie in 1972, but you have recently received messages from each. How is this possible?”

“Post took a long time,” suggested the parrot, ignored as usual.

You know, I could get behind the idea of a story where a lesbian vampire confides her adventures to a smartass parrot with a human intelligence. You know, if it was an actual story with actual plot and not this fake deep stream of consciousness word diarrhea “ask me what it means, ask me what it all means” garbage.

Well, if nothing else, reading the anthology through reminded me why I had forgotten most of these stories. 

[chezforshire]

AU where marceline is the school's local harana for hire she writes quick songs for anyone who wants to have a song sung for anyone for whatever reason they want

It's usually a lot of love songs (she's gotten tired of this really fast) but sometimes she gets requests for songs for friends

Anyway, Lady and Jake help her out with this business by making bouquets and playing along with her respectively. And Bon is usually just someone she bounces ideas with cause Marce may know so many people, but there's still a number of rich prissy losers that Bon knows and that's usually her clients. Also, Bon loves getting to stretch her writing skills.

(Though she's also pretty tired of love songs)

Marce gets a commission one day to make a song for Bon and she just kinda. Stares at it. Her clients aren't anonymous. Well, not usually. A lot of her songs are made from shared memories and the small percent made from flowery words are usually douchelords who are too confident about their place to think they'd need anonymity in case of rejection.

So when she sees that this one didn't have a name she was a little... confused. There was also the fact that Bon is notorious for saying no to everyone who tries to ask her out. And not in a way where friends tell friends this, but more of she said no to a guy who payed the whole school to get in on his grand plan to ask her out

(Even Marce tho it wasn't for a song. It was more of he asked her to drive Bon to school at a specific time. She obviously told Bon this but they didn't have a lot of time to talk about it bc the guy texted everyone their roles literally on midnight and wired the cash after sending the message.

A little worrying how he not only got everyone's number but also everyone's bank account. She and most of her friends changed phones then bc that was creepy as all hell)

She doesn't tell Bon. Not because of some customer confidentiality or whatever but because... Well she doesn't really know. It just made her irrationally irritated and sad. Odd.

She takes far longer than usual to reply to this. She doesn't understand the hesitation. Or maybe she does? Bon has called her a bleeding heart a million times and she guesses thats the reason. She feels bad for them and doesn't want to watch another person who put in effort be rejected. Yeah that's it. She should tell him that. Maybe they were new or something. It'll be fine, plus they didn't want a full song so they werent paying much. Yeah, that sounds like a game plan.

The next day she says yes and wonders all day why she did that

For about a month she keeps this commission to herself. She spaces out more than usual during this time. Not quite disassociating, just staring into space and thinking.

Bon isn't worried bc this is usually how she gets when she's got a song in the works. She needles her about what it is and who it's for, but she generally deflects and at some point just straight up lies and says some random names.

She also learns more about her client. They're not new, they've actually known Bon for about 3 to 5 years. They're pretty close apparently and actually knows Marce personally. Theyve talked several times and have hung out here and there too. (That sure didn't make her anxiety and paranoia skyrocket)

She feels a lot of anxiety and worry and trepidation and god other irrational shit about this commission. She doesn't really tell anyone (something her therapist, or Bon more importanly Bon, would frown at) so she's just left to wallow about it on her own. She tries working on it as much as she can but it just feels... wrong somehow. She doesn't really get it but she feels like she'll lose something because of this. She doesn't get it. She knows they'll be rejected and they'll all laugh at it in the end and just.

What is it. What's wrong.

She feels a tap on her shoulder and she almost falls off her bed. Jake's apparently been trying to talk to her for a solid minute and oh jeez now he's got that Worried Big Brother look.

He peers at her and asks what's wrong and not-so-subtly threatens that he'll stay and use his Big Brother mode on her if she tries to lie to him

She just sighs heavily and curls up

"Someone commissioned a suicide mission"

Jake makes an 'o' with his mouth. Theyve always called anyone who tried to flirt with Bon a suicide mission and laughed pretty hard at it. Even Bon calls the poors souls who try suicide missions.

She uncurls a bit and faces Jake with a small smile, ready to laugh with him about it as she should. But for some reason Jake just... Looks at her with this worried look. Not his patented Im-Worried-For-You-Little-Sibling but more of one would give to a friend when they know something they don't.

Marce laughs, shakey and unsure. "What? S'not like this doesn't happen. It's Bon, ya know? The sweatheart of the school." With a mean streak that rivals the devil, she adds quietly- fondly- in her head.

Jake just nods slowly. He drags his eyes away from her and stares at her wall, eyes unfocused.

Marce starts having a bit of a panic because what is that face, why is Jake acting like this, is there somethin on her wall, wait does he know the client, is he friends with the client, is he the client, w-

Jake flops his short, chunky body on her bed and pulls her to lay down too. Roughly, might she add. And not to mention absolutely unexpected.

He's smiling again, big and all teeth. It twitches for a second when he makes eye contact but bounces back so quick she thinks she might have imagined it.

"Ha! You're gonna write for a suicide mission this is hilarious!" He makes a move to ruffle her hair and she just starts flailing to avoid this. "Man! I haven't seen one in a while so this'll be fun at least. Something else to keep us busy other than those stupid douchefucks who thinks a song is a sure fire way to get laid."

Marce is confused but doesn't question this sudden change. Plus it actually helps? She snickers -because no, she doesnt giggle she is cooler than that- at the thought of watching the client be rejected before Marce can even pull out her guitar.

"Yeah, threw me off like hell cause Bon is practically legendary but hey apparently there are still some brave souls out there."

"Oh dude, I've got a great ass idea," Jake sits up and leans on his elbows, "Let's keep this a secret from princess. Oh and Lady cause you know she cant keep anything from her."

Marce kinda laughs at this in confusion. "Uh what? Why? If you haven't noticed my services include a bouquet and unless you've learned flower language I dont think we can take Lady outta the equation."

He snorts "I may not know flowers, but I know my girlfriend. I can just be vague and she'll take it as a challenge and try to make the perfect bouquet. S'no problem on that front.

"I figured we could keep it a secret so we can see Bon's pure and raw reaction. Like I said, there hasn't been a suicide mission in a looooong while so she probably doesn't expect this. And it'll be way more funny cause someone commissioned you for it. Where it is no secret that a) you do this and b) you get help from the three of us."

"You got a point there detective. Bur fair warning, Bon will be giving us the stink eye for days if we do this. Especially me because she's my thesaurus and metaphor maker. You know how she loves taking credit for making them sound like a stupid romance novel."

"Psh, she loves you to hell and back. She'll just pout at you for a while and when you buy her her favourite candy it'll be right as rain."

Okay, that sounded valid but at the same time Marceline kind of shut down after Jake said Bon loves her so uh she guesses she'll just trust that it'll be fine?

" 'nother idea," Jake says softly. He's looking at he- actually. No he's not looking at her, hes just looking her way but his eyes are just. Not there.

"Uh, shoot"

"Make this song the best you've ever made."

Marceline laughs for a second before she realizes okay wait Jake is serious about that. What. Why the fuck would she do that.

He shrugs and smiles again. Soft and pitying -what why why is Jake acting like this what the fuck- and he gestures around a bit before speaking.

"Well, first off it'll be good practice for you. You've been workin with Bon for about as log as you've been doing this so think of this as a test to see how you are now on your own.

"Second, well ya gotta admit if you pull out a banger and Bon actually likes it it'll be way funnier cause you can sing it and she'll look all annoyed but you can see that her tapping her foot and bobbing her head. It'll be funny for everyone involved.

"And lastly," Jake takes a deep breath before speaking, as if this is one of the toughest things he's done in a while. "Call it a father's intuition."

She stares at him. She- she doesn't know hwo to react to that.

After a second, Jake cracks a soft smile and "Did you get Lady pregnant, you fucking askal" just slips out of her mouth.

Jake laughs loud and boisterous at this and Marce just follows.

Yeah, she might as well make this the best one she's ever made. The client won't get the girl, but at least she can make her like it

[tessatechaitea]

Black Canary: New Wings #1

Nothing says Seattle more than a fishnetted woman in a blond wig and bustier preparing to kick your ass.

I remember being excited about this series when it came out but I can't remember why I felt excited about it. Is that a metaphor for life? Why can't I feel the joy in the remembrance? I look at it now and just think, "This looks fucking boring." And that's me being boring! Usually I'd say something like, "If this comic book were an imaginary genetic disorder, it would be reverse Prader-Willi Syndrome because I don't want more of it ever." Holy shit that was terrible. Especially since "reverse Prader-Willi Syndrome" is probably Angelman syndrome. And this comic book isn't that at all because it doesn't make me happy or thirsty. I never actually said I was funny! The words, "I have a great sense of humor named Marcus," never passed my keyboard. That's what you chose to believe! But that other thing you believed, the one where I'm a terrible person who would make light of serious genetic disorders for the sake of a truly terrible metaphor? Yeah, that's true. I own that one. "Black Canary" is an anagram for "Crack by anal." I'm suddenly more interested in this comic book because it must secretly be about doing crack through your butthole or else why would that anagram exist? I just realized what I've been doing wrong my entire life. It's more fun to live by Coast to Coast AM midnight caller logic where you believe every thought that enters your head must be true rather than have to live within the confines of reality! The issue begins with the host of a Seattle radio station asking callers this question: "Does migrating gang activity threaten Seattle's Asian neighborhoods?" Probably! I bet it's all that anal crack coming up from Southern California! If you're not a American, I added that so you understand where all the gangs migrate from in the United States. Seattle is too overcast and wet to come up with its own gang activity. Nobody would be threatened by The Puddle-Jumpers or The Caffeine Splashettes or Pike's Place Bass Solos or The Ardent Un-Umbrellaists or We Love Trees, Bitch. At first I was going to be upset about the "migrating gangs" comment because I'm the stereotypical Californian who wound up living in the Pacific Northwest. But it's not totally my fault since my divorced dad moved up here and I spent a lot of time up here and I fell in love with it up here. So I guess that's one thing I can think my father for! The radio host calls for the people in the Asian community to rise up and kick gang ass to help make their streets safer. And he doesn't just talk the talk! He kicks the ass the kicks the ass! Why doesn't that work like "talk the talk"?!

I don't know how the drug dealer managed to give his money to the buyer and get his ass kicked to boot. What a lousy businessman.

Even though I don't recognize her name, I'm glad to see a woman is writing this comic book. That probably means we won't have more than two scenes where Black Canary is wearing a towel or kicking ass in her underwear. Oh wait! I'm a male infused with male gaze! I meant to say, "I'm sad to see a woman is writing this comic book. That probably means we won't have more than two scenes where Black Canary is wearing a towel or kicking ass in her underwear." Whew! I almost betrayed my gender for a second! I must be low on testosterone! I'd better go out on the street and "accidentally" bump into a guy smaller than me so I can start some shit! Okay, I'm back! Did you know small guys are pretty tough? Also, do you think I need to make an appointment with a dentist if several of my teeth feel lose? Do they just naturally stiffen back up if I stop wiggling them with my tongue?! I sit staring at the page following the one I scanned for several minutes. I don't know if it's just too confusing with all that's happening or the kick of testosterone my body just received from the fight. It could also be head trauma from totally winning the fight.

The terrible business man drug dealer is a black guy working for a white supremacist Neo-Nazi. He calls the radio host a China Doll which seems weird although kudos to him for not being gendered in his racial slurs, I guess? According to the footprint patterns on the ground, they were also practicing a dance while wrestling over drug money. The drug dealer admits to having lost his money in a drug deal for the third time this week because I don't even know how that happens. He hands the money to the buyer to let the buyer make the change? Nearby, Dinah can't sleep because the birds outside of her window are too loud and maybe the dancing going on under her window but she looks to the sky when she sticks her head out of the window so what am I supposed to believe? She decides to read some relaxing literature about the feminist politics of housework and then gives up to go practice her judo. That's a fucking lot going on in one page!

Later, Dinah does her budget for the month and discovers Green Arrow is spending too much money on boxing glove arrows. Apparently being a Seattle vigilante doesn't bring in much cash and Dinah has been paying all the bills with her Sherwood Florist flower shop. I guess Oliver Queen didn't have any money in 1991? Maybe Crisis on Infinite Earths wiped out his bank account and he wouldn't get it back until Zero Hour? Anyway, Dinah is pretty pissed with Oliver's spending habits.

I know Dinah is chastising Ollie for being a brutish pig here but technically he wins the argument because she describes his sexing as hot.

Dinah heads up to the Quinault Indian Reservation to get some mystic wisdom from Aunty Wren, an elderly Native American woman. Her advice is "Ask the douchebag for help." It comes across as a critique of Black Canary being too prideful to ask for help because she's a strong woman who doesn't need anybody. But I like to think the point of the advice is this: if Oliver isn't helping out, ask him to help. If he doesn't help out after asking him to, you now know he's a useless piece of unforgivable shit that needs to be thrown in a dumpster. If I don't think that then I have to think this: Oh, sure! Blame the woman for needing to be too strong! How about blaming the man for being a grown ass man child that won't take responsibility without being told to take it after which he'll only grouse about how much he's being nagged. But then again, I don't need any more reasons to dislike Green Arrow than this one: he's a fucking Robin Hood cosplayer with stupid facial hair who fights against modern weapons with a bow and arrows. Aunty Wren introduces Dinah to Gan Nguyen, the radio show host vigilante. He's also an Asian translator for the Quinault. Gan and Dinah flirt a bit while getting to know each other before heading back to Seattle on the ferry. While Dinah is in the toilet, Gan gets jumped by some gang members who have been looking for him. Dinah changes into Black Canary, kicks some ass, and saves the day. Later, Gan is all, "I know it was you who saved me but I won't say that explicitly! Just so you know you can tell me if you want to tell me and I won't say anything but I know and you know I know!" Dinah is all, "Yeah, yeah. Whatever." And that's almost the end except for an epilogue that's some pretty damn fine and insightful writing about our country and what the fuck has been going wrong (and gone wrong) with it.

Fucking hell that's good stuff.

Black Canary: New Wings #1 Rating: A. This is why I'm sad comic books are no longer really affordable. In 1991, this comic book was $1.75 which was easily cheap enough to pick it up and see what it was about. Doing so let me read a really great story with a point of view and something to say. If this were on the shelves today at $4.00, the only people giving it a chance would be Black Canary fans. That's a fucking shame and the main problem with print comics today. They're just too fucking expensive to take a chance on anything that isn't already in your fandom alley (or by a writer or artist you love). Not to mention how the cover didn't excite me at all! But I still picked it up to see what was going on with Black Canary and apparently past me liked it as much as current me because I got the whole mini-series and at least a few issues of the series that followed it. Well done, Sarah Byam!

[iwritefanficsometimes]

Hey there, I loved your story, and I would love to request something if it's okay. 😍 I would love to read some ironstrange get together. What exactly is up to you. 😚 if you write smut (which is total'y not necessary) I would love to read first time together. 😍❤

(Your wish is my command. I love IronStrange get together. And any get together. My asexual self doesn’t really do smut, though I may have added a little something in that’s kinda cute. Hope you like this.)

Tony makes a point of visiting both Kamar Taj and the New York Sanctum whenever he feels like Stephen Strange has gone too long without making contact. It’s half a power play, proving that he has access to Stephen whenever he wants it, and half an incessant curiosity about Stephen’s magic, which Tony hated.

Curiosity was probably the wrong word, unless Tony added morbid to the beginning, then maybe it worked. No matter. Whatever his purpose Tony saw Stephen regularly, treated him to dinner now and again when he seemed particularly irritated, and just generally made a nuisance of himself in the way that some people hated and others found annoyingly charming. Tony was betting Stephen would fall into the latter category sooner rather than later. Most people eventually warmed up to Tony, even if it was kind of grudging.

Stephen was a tough case though. Aside from that time when he sacrificed half the universe to save Tony’s life (Stephen said it didn’t count since they fixed it in the end, but Tony disagreed), Stephen didn’t really show any sign of being affectionate or caring at all about Tony. He refused to smile, even when Tony pulled out his best lines (not the playboy ones, the genius ones). The sentient outerwear was mostly on board with Tony, but it was too loyal to Stephen to give him more than a passing… glance? It doesn’t have eyes ears or any visible pressure or temperature receptors, but it definately managed to interact with the outside world and react to stimuli. Stephen said it was magic. Tony didn’t like that explanation.

But we digress. Tony was having a hard time breaking Stephen’s outer shell. Most people were peanuts, with enough pressure the shell comes off right in your hand, but Stephen was more like a walnut. Tony would need a tiny hammer and a weird pick thing to get on Stephen’s good side. Bad metaphor. Maybe he shouldn’t compare breaking nuts to making friends. Friends? Well sure, why not. Tony was trying to make a friend of a wizard in charge of the magical security of New York. As a superhero in charge of the physical security of New York it seemed like a good strategy. Getting along outside of work would make working together easier. That was why Tony was bringing Stephen food from his favorite Italian place, not for any other ulterior non-platonic reason. He also had enough for Wong, should he be floating around doing whatever wizards do in their free time, or not free time. It was hard to tell which was which with them.

He knocks, but only as a courtesy. He came right in when he received no answer after two seconds and really, the place should have better security than that. Tony would talk to Stephen about installing a security system. You know, like friends do.

Tony drops the extra container in the kitchen, knowing that Wong will find his way to it and maybe even join them if he wanted to, though that seems to happen less and less frequently lately. Tony should ask about that. Friends ask about that sort of thing. Tony is going to be an excellent friend.

“Howdy neighbor!” Tony says as he enters Stephen’s study, holding out the food bag to butter Stephen up for his unannounced entrance. Stephen ignores Tony until he gets to the end of his page and then puts aside the book he’s reading to look at Tony.

“If the world isn’t in crisis why on earth are you hear?”

“What? Can’t a man drop in on his favorite wizard?”

“Sorcerer,” Stephen glares, having corrected Tony enough times in the past that he shouldn’t have to keep repeating himself, but Tony is stubborn and he likes that look of near anger plus exasperation bordering on amusement.

“Sure, but I brought food, so you can’t be mad.” Tony plops down in a chair he isn’t starting to think of as “his chair” and opens the take out bag, letting the smells really waft towards Stephen so he’ll stop being hornery.

“You can’t buy people’s affection, Tony,” Stephen says even as he reaches out for the bag to grab his syrafoam container and a foil wrapped piece of garlic bread.

“I beg to differ. I’ve done it very sucessfully nearly my entire life.”

“Nearly?”

“When I didn’t have access to the family bank account it was a little bit harder.” He grabs the remaining container from the bag and settles in his chair, opening it up and tossing plasticware Stephen’s direction from the bottom of the bag. “But not impossible.”

“I’m not going to ask.” Stephen opens his container and pretends not to impressed by the very nice food from a very nice restuarant that doesn’t usually do take out.

“Probably better that you don’t.” Tony unwraps the remaining plasticware and tucks the napkin into the collar of his shirt, tossing his tie behind him to keep it out of his marinera. “So, any world ending catastrophes coming up that I should know about?”

“You’re wonderful at dinner conversation.” Stephen says as he tucked in to his own food, making use of a nearly empty table resting next to his chair that had been besides Tony’s the last time that he’d been there. Tony knew that it was probably Stephen being petty, so he pretended not to be bothered by it so that he wouldn’t get any satisfaction from it.

“You want to pull up a chair. There’s plenty of room here.”

Or that. Tony blinks and then stands up before his mouth even has time to answer. Unfortunately when that answer finally comes it’s something as stupid as, “Sure, why not? I always like getting up close and personal with you, Strange.” Tony adds a wink because it feels appropriate, but he’s actually more unsure about it than he was about… well anything. He was very rarely unsure.

Stephen snorted and rolled his eyes, but it was kind of fond underneath all the annoyance, so that was good.

Tony dragged his chair behind him, earning an unimpressed look from Stephen, but he ignored it. He sat down like it was the most natural thing on earth and started eating. “I got something new, let me know what you think.”

Stephen hums in response and Tony mixes up his pasta dish and digs in, they ate in silence, which was unusual for Tony but he was learning to live with it because Stephen preferred it.

“This is really good.” Stephen has never ever made a comment about the food that Tony brought that Tony didn’t have to drag out of him. It catches Tony a little off guard, and he looks up at Stephen curiously.

“Is it? It’s the same restuarant from a couple weeks ago, but I got something different. Glad you approve.”

“This is one of your favorites.” Stephen unwraps the garlic bread and doesn’t look at Tony. “Everything else is one and done, but you’ve brought food from this place four times.” He picks up the open foil and shows the contents to Tony, “I recognize the bread.”

“It’s my absolute favorite, as it happens,” Tony doesn’t know how to feel about that. Sure, Stephen has an idetic memory, and he probably didn’t put any thought into knowing about the bread, but he’d commented on it. “If that’s a complaint I can go somewhere else. Plenty of Italian places in New York.”

“It’s not a complaint. Just an observation.” Stephen manages to make eating pasta look elegant and it’s kind of annoying, but mostly it’s cute. Tony knows he shouldn’t think of a bad ass sorcerer as cute, but he did plenty of things that he shouldn’t so why stop now.

“Oh.” Tony feels stupid just saying it, but he’s caught off guard. “Just an observation.” Was it a brush off or like really bad flirting? He had no idea. He knew which one he hoped for, and which one it probably was, but he wasn’t sure. It cut at him not to be sure about something, but even though Stephen had been doing this to him since they met, he was worth the agrevation.

“I can see why you like it. Everything’s been great so far.”

“They do a really great lasagna if that’s something you’d be interested in. I can bring it next time.”

Stephen sets down his fork, looking at Tony for maybe the first time. “If there’s going to be a next time, why don’t you let me treat you?”

“Because I’m a genius billionaire and I could buy the rest of your meals for the rest of your life with the money I make in a year. From five star restuarants.” Tony says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world and is surprised by the small smirk forming on Stephen’s lips. The man has never cracked a smile at one of Tony’s amazing witty jokes, but he can smirk about Tony’s very obvious fact.

“You’ve been bringing me food for months. The least I can do is take you out for dinner.”

“Out for dinner,” Tony repeats, because he can’t be hearing what he thinks he’s hearing, because what he thinks he’s hearing is.

“Like a date,” Stephen is looking at him with too intense eyes, and okay, maybe Tony is a sucker for Stephen’s eyes, but can anyone blame him?

“We barely talk.”

“I’d like to change that.”

Tony takes a second to process that, and then nods. “Okay, you have my number.”

“I’ll text you.”

—————————

S: Are you free Friday night?

Tony is surprised when FRIDAY reads the text to him. The last time he talked to Stephen was nearly three days ago, and he was starting to think that he was having second thoughts. He said so.

T: I was starting to think that you were having second thoughts.

It takes a couple of minutes to get the text back.

S: Just rearranging some things. So is that a yes or no?

T: I’ll make it work.

S: I’m picking the place. I’ll text you the address.

T: I’ll show up in the suit.

S: With a regular suit underneath, preferably.

T: Oh of course. I’m sexiest in a suit.

S: Nice to see you’re pulling out all the stops.

T: I’ve seen old pictures of you in suits. I’m sure you’re going to clean up nicely.

S: Of course I am.

T: Confidence is the new sexy.

S: A well cut suit doesn’t hurt.

T: No it does not.

S: My treat.

T: I didn’t forget. But I’m getting the tip.

S: I can live with that.

T: Why did I expect you to fight me on that?

S: Because I almost did, but then I remembered that it would be pointless and you’d just send a tip once we were gone.

T: Point

S: Seven o’clock?

T: I will be there barring world crisis.

S: Understandable

T: See you then.

S: See you, Tony.

And that made Tony’s heart skip a beat like it hadn’t since he was still carrying around too much metal too close to it.

—————

Tony shows up at seven o’clock sharp, throwing his tendency to be fashionably late to the wind. He tells the hostest that he’s with the Strange party, and she smiles, showing him the way immediately without making the very obvious joke about “what makes it so strange” or something to that effect which is kind of dissapointing, but he understands that it probably isn’t the time for that kind of thing.

Stephen stands up when Tony approaches, and wow does he clean up nice. A powder blue shirt that should look ridiculous beneath the deep blue suit looks amazing with a slate blue tie and white pocket square. It’s a classic cut and though it’s technically out of season, it looks amazing on him. Stephen waits for Tony to get to the table to speak.

“I’m glad you could make it.”

“Thank the supervillians for not trying to end the world tonight.” Tony smiles and sits down, waving the waiter away when he asks if Tony wants wine, just tipping his water glass to have him fill it, “water is fine for me.”

“I hope you’re not skimping on my account.” Stephen smiles when the waiter leaves, having filled both their glasses.

“I don’t really drink anymore. There was an incident. Unless you intend to kill me I’ll pass.” He flashes a grin that is supposed to ease any tension that may form after such a revelation. Tony never made a secret of his mistakes or his vices. He figured it was always better to put stuff out there himself than let the press out him.

“Oh.” Stephen looks at his taster of red, “Would you prefer I didn’t-“

“No, no, it’s doesn’t bother me.” Tony waves away the very suggesion and takes a drink of water to wet his palate. Usually admitting to a previous drinking problem that boardered on alcoholism didn’t feel this… vulnerable. Maybe it should have.

Stephen nods, but he doesn’t ask for more than a full glass of the wine he’s already tasted.

Tony talks to Stephen more than he’s ever talked to anyone who isn’t Rhodey. And he’s talking too him. Not at him. Not around him. To him. They’re having a conversation. Several conversation. Stephen has a dry wit to die for and a cutting tongue to rival the Asguardian who shall not be named. He makes Tony laugh and he makes Tony think and he’s amazing. He can only hope that Stephen feels similarly.

When the waiter asks them if they want desert Tony says no and winks at Stephen. “I know a place.”

Stephen rolls his eyes but asks for the tab anyway.

They end up at a milkshake bar, and Stephen is visibly unimpressed. Tony laughs and drags him in by the suit sleeve.

“We’re only here because you think that it’s cute to be rich and eat here, aren’t you?”

“And they have the best milkshakes in New York. With non-milk options if that’s not your thing, so you can’t protest.”

“Non-milk?” Stephen asks with a raised eyebrow.

“Oh, we have almond, soy and sherbert options!” The cheery girl behind the counter tells them. “Though the sherbert shakes are just kind of melty. Some peopel are into that though! I’d recommend the chocolate almond milk if that’s a route you want to go. THe vegan toppings have a gree spoon in them.”

“Milkshakes with toppings?” Stephen turns to Tony, who is grinning.

“Yes. I told you this place was the best. I’m going to have whatever you just suggested with whatever your favorite toppings are.”

“All of them!” She grins and Tony nods.

“All of them then. Stephen?”

Stephen looks at the menu and then points out the special of the day. “I think I’ll do the chocolate carmel pecan shake.”

“Traditional, almond or soy milk?””

“Almond,” Stephen said, looking at Tony. Tony smiles because they’re obviously getting basically the same thing and that’s gonna be a good sign.

Stephen rolls his eyes, and Tony just winks at the server and mouths, “my date’s going well.”

She grins at him, barely hiding a giggle as she starts to make their shakes.

When Tony pays Stephen doesn’t protest, which is good because it would have ruined their very nice date. Stephen gets cinamon and chocolate chips in his shake, and Tony has an unfortunate medley of gummies, chocolates, fruit and miscelaneous candies that leaves him just a tiny bit less fond of the enthusiastic barista. 

“That’s some shake.” Stephen comments as they walk the streets like teenagers. Stephen is using maybe too much magic to stablize his hands, to keep them from shaking and spilling carmel all over himself. He did the same thing at dinner and nearly every time he eats, he has to, but if Tony ever noticed the difference he hasn’t said anything.

“Where’s your sense of adventure, Stephen?” Tony asked, just before he tried to suck up a sour gummy work in his straw. It didn’t work out well. Stephen’s laugh was worth it.

“I think I left it in that milkshake bar with your dignity. You could have told her not to put literally all the toppings in it.”

“She was so excited.”

“She needs some dissapointment in her life. She was too cheerful.”

“You’re going to regret saying that when she runs the world one day.”

Stephen raises an eyebrow, “You have that much faith in her?”

“I have faith in everyone. And the youth are the future. As a futurist I would know.”

They continue in silence as Tony battles with the gummy worm stuck in his straw, and every once in a while Stephen chuckles about it, and it’s comfortable. Tony hasn’t felt this at ease with paparazzi following him in years. Not even when Stark Industries was buying up paparazzi photos for ten times the amount that gossip rags would pay them for. That hadn’t lasted long, but it had kept most of his sexual expermentation in college out of the papers long enough for Tony to get his shit together. 

“You’re a good person, Tony Stark.” Stephen stirs his milkshake with his straw and Tony cocks his head at him.

“I’m sorry, for a second I thought you said you thought I was a good person.”

“I didn’t say I thought it. I said You are a good person.”

Tony doesn’t really know what to say to that, so he returns the compliment. “So are you. Even if your taste in dates is a little bit questionable at the moment.”

“There’s nothing wrong with you.”

And this is the moment that Tony had been dreading. Self doubt and anxiety dragging him down and shoving his confidence in a box and throwing that box in the ocean.

“Maybe nothing that you can see right now.”

Stephen looks at Tony and then holds out his hand. Tony, not knowing what else to do, takes it. Suddenly Stephen’s hand starts shaking, nearly violently, and Tony panics. He looks into Stephen’s eyes to ask him if he’s okay, but there’s no pain or signs of some kind of episode, it’s just sadness.

“You’re not the only one with invisible issues. I’m willing to deal with them if you are.”

“Are you asking me to go steady?”

“I wouldn’t dream of it. I’m asking you on another date. Next week. You can pick the place.”

Tony smiles, “Only if you buy desert.”

“I think I can manage that.” 

Stephen is very close and Tony isn’t sure who stepped closer to who, but his face is right there and Tony really can’t help himself, so he leans a little closer. “While we’re making demands, can I kiss you?”

Stephen smiles and leans the rest of the way down, and he’s just tall enough that Tony has to tilt his head up, and his free hand rests on Tony’s waist, noticably not shaking. Tony makes a mental note to make sure Stephen knows he doesn’t have to do that if he doesn’t want to, and they kiss until the paparazzi flashes ruin the moment. That’s when Tony’s best car shows up, curtousy of FRIDAY, and Tony waves Stephen into the passenger seat. 

When they’re both in the car Tony looks across at Stephen, revving the engine just to show off. “Where to?”

Stephen rolls his eyes, but doesn’t try that hard to hide his grin. “Is this a your place or mine question?”

“Do you want it to be?”

Stephen laughs and leans over again to kiss Tony, drunk on sugar and happiness.

Tony doesn’t protest.

(Oh my god this is so long I’m sorry.)

Prompt Me!

[cassatine]

Wait, I've been reading your posts on Macron (I'm not really well-versed in the nuances of French politics, so I may be getting something wrong here) but it seems you're saying that he's acting like a dictator, refusing to cede power, using the army to maintain his control... but when that scottish blogger cybersmith said it, you said that was wrong. Is Macron a tyrant or not? (also, I hope yor okay, some people have been hurt)

Yeah huh what “that scottish blogger” actually said, and I quote:

Does it not alarm you that Macron has announced his intention to rule your homeland and countrymen in perpetuity as an eternal dictator, even going so far as to proclaim himself a manifestation of divinity? Or do you still find this preferable to the possibility of a (humanely implemented) regime change carried out by concerned neighbour-states?

and

I did warn you about Macron. Now he has openly declared his intention to rule France as an immortal god-king.

and

He… Literally compared himself to a pagan sky-father. I’m not being a conspiracy theorist. He makes no secret of it now that he has won the election.

and

As a French person, would you be in favour of a New Reconquista to rescue the lands of Europe from Illuminati-Backed Jihadism? I am planning to ask my MP to bring this up on the House Of Commons (because of the upcoming GE in the UK) but it occurs to me that such an endeavour would necessarily start in France, and I hadn't discussed this with any French People. Do you think foreign intervention -from the Occidental nations that yet remain free- will be necessary to unseat the vile Satrap Macron? 

and, from an unanswered ask because I HAVE FUCKING LIMITS.

When I pointed out that your country would be better of under a monarch, or with externally-imposed regime change, you scoffed at me. Now the aspiring god-king is readying his merciless troops to slaughter your countrymen, cementing his iron rule with a mortar of blood and tears. I was correct, from the very beginning.

I mean I don’t want to sound mean, anon, but there is a difference between "Macron & his gvt are flirting with authoritarianism by exploiting the weakness of the Vth Republics institutions and of representative democracy because he’s fucked, with on one side a population that doesn’t want his reforms and on the other the private interests that helped him get where he is (+the actually hard-to-avoid obligations that come with being part of the EU)" and "immortal god-king” bullshit. 

I bolded the important parts. Look, what Macron & co are doing is gaming the system, so to speak (see first bolded part), and not to establish some kind of dictatorship headed by an immortal god-king or whatever, but because overall the french are chauvinists attached to their conception of social and economic justice who have been noping in the face of unchecked neoliberalism, and that’s no good for das kapital. Macron’s doing exactly what’s been done by many others -- he went from banking to public service, and he probably intends to go back to banking, and the point of his public stint isn’t politics or even ruling or power, it’s to enact reforms benefitting his class and open the door wide to that unchecked neoliberalism the general public doesn’t like much. His plans for Europe are in the continuity of this. 

But the thing is, Macron didn’t really do anything our previous gvts. didn’t do (beyond not bothering to hide his class disdain, which certainly helped to get people against him. most politicians at least have the sense to use lube before fucking us over, but his party is amazingly shitty on that end), he’s just... accelerated the cadence. And sure he got where he is and did what he’s been doing not without some very illegal shit, but mostly because systemically the conditions were already there for him or someone like him -- there’s this old joke that everyone here knows and that says it all: we don’t have a president, we have a king.

Now don’t get me wrong, what’s going on here is shitty, and I’m afraid because it’s far from over, but we still have quiiite a way to go before dictatorship (we do have counterpowers, even the Senate got in on it), and I hate to admit it but if Macron’s refusing to step down of like, his own initiative, there is no ongoing procedure or motion or whatever that would obligate him to. As to the army, that shit is scary af but again, there’s a nuance to make -- although I’m really fucking scared that they might end up firing on people during protests and the communication around their deployment at the last protest was abysmal, the gvt. doesn’t want them to fire. I’m afraid it will happen not in the sense that they will be ordered to fire, I’m not quite there yet, but in the sense that the Sentinelle (the concerned unit) are not trained for crowd control. The gvt. also doesn’t want to use them outside of the specific context of GJ protests (and yknow, their actual duties). The Sentinelle people are an anti-terrorism brigade, and calling them specifically is part of the ongoing effort to depict GJ as... well, terrorists, or at the very least definitely dangerous. 

It was also a gambit. They’re still hoping they’ll find THE thing to keep the GJ home, and the fact that they’re down to waving the threat of the army around (and again, I Worry, but that’s what putting the Sentinelle specifically where the GJ are not supposed to protest amounts to, abysmal communication notwithstanding) when people are already aware protesting might kill them (because it happened!!), among other ugly consequences is scary af, yes, but it’s also a sign that the gvt.’s options to maintain itself have dwindled something crazy. You call the army when you’re losing control, not when you have it. 

Because again, our man Manu is kinda stuck between a rock and a hard place. On the one hand, he’s got the GJ and little popular support, and an actual politician would have to factor that. But on the other hand, that boy owes. He owes to those who helped put him where he is to defend their interests and who keep helping him so that he keeps doing exactly that. He can’t give the GJ what they want without losing that support, he can’t leave without losing that support, and without it he’s just plain fucked. 

So basically we’re in a complicated situation! The specters of full-blown authoritarianism, plutocratic dictatorship, and who knows what other horrors loom on the horizon. But so do others, like the specter of our victory, and now that we’ve seen it...

The thing is that we’ve won a huge battle already, because Macron was supposed to deliver a success story. He was supposed to reform the unreformable! To maintain the oh so practical ‘populism’ (ie. the far right and the left -- it’s not quite the same here as in the US, but we’re seeing a similar displacement of meaning wrt. the left, the far left and the ‘center’) vs ‘liberalism’ (ie. unchecked neoliberalism basically) pseudo-opposition, in which one is the only solution to the other, the only alternative! He was supposed to be the youthful, energic face of progressism, a Mozart of finance who would deliver where traditional politicians couldn’t. He was supposed to unite ze french beyond political and social divides (and he kinda did do that, ironically enough), and a bunch of shit besides. 

We fucked that up, and we fucked it up good. Most of the merit is his, though -- he got us to the current situation. He got us to people asking for his head (metaphorically), but more than that, he got us to realize what’s become a slogan: fin du monde, fin du mois, même combat -- end of the world, end of the month, same fight, and he got us talking about the relative merits of participative and representative democracy and how our institutions should work and for whom because collective intelligence is actually a thing and we realized he is a symptom and it’s the root we need to go after. Not that no one knew it before, but the trajectory from protests against an oil tax to the protests we have now, that’s a victory unto itself.  

Anyway, I forgot the point somewhere, but overall, going from the symbolic “jupiterian presidency” WHICH IS WHAT TCS WAS REFERRING TO FFS to the painfully literal “Macron has announced his intention to rule your homeland and countrymen in perpetuity as an eternal dictator, even going so far as to proclaim himself a manifestation of divinity“ etc etc is still a really bad take (and I’m not Going There but “New Reconquista” is not an innocuous term). Reality is weird and shitty enough as it is, thanks.

[weirdness-on-the-roof]

critical role episode 48 campaign 2 notes and funny lines post break edit:this has detailed notes on all the stuff that happened later in the episode including physical descriptions near the end. enjoy ya nerds

don’t steal the books from a high powered mage; don’t kill the dude; beau turning into cad; look at beau planning for the future

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is marisha flirting with matt via matt playing yasha and beau flirting with yasha?

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‘tea the international language’ but no earl grey

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wensworth the goblin

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coming from Cad ‘im a fine tea maker’ is kinda a threat tbh

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elf that isn’t white/European??? yay! also really old elves are cool

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beau and cad tag teaming a political chat with a mage this can’t end poorly

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Nott: :beau ruins every situation shes in and is very abrasive

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send the freaking cat!!! why not?? caleb my dude

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god i miss allura and gilmore currently

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fucking fuck don’t lie to the mage beau plz stop this is painful ‘you’re not wrong’ sure blame the ancient sea god

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‘on the verge of returning’ yea no duh you let him out 2/3 of the way so fjord could get a spell

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‘we found a thing’ so smooth and eloquent beau ‘it was presented to us as the happy fun time ball’

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‘butter fingers with magical items’

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beau getting a geography lesson from a very old powerful elven mage

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‘magical geometric orb that has the ability to bend time and space and fate’ which is kept in a hot pink magic bag that happened to ‘fall into [their] lap’

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‘if youre down im down is what im saying... i have a few slots open in my loyalty bank if you’re willing to pay rent’ says the 20 some human who punches things to the centuries old wizard ‘

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liam stress eating

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cad’s hope in the group is heartwarming

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tower metaphors and a conversation!!!

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caleb reading shitty romance novel and nott eating a fish outside a mage’s tower in the morning sunlight in a major city

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caleb takes the rear

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first name drop and a while

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holy shit 200 years of magic using

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cad explaining materialistic nature of the rest of the party to elf dude is hilarious

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teleportation circles?????? in return for access to the sphere!! oh shit thats good

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or candy

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crap. no one has insight checked this dude and they gave him the happy fun ball and made a deal kinda.

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‘how do we prove our loyalty?’ ‘by not fucking me over’ sounds like a good plan

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is this guy just caleb’s patron now on the low idk this is how my head works and he said learn

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“you have a geometric shape that makes babies?” “yea they talked about that”

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fjord just kills the dude

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‘i got banishment on hold just in case’ *cackling laughter*

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i agree with elf dude, him not knowing anything about the dodecha is more concerning than him knowing about it

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ALL THE CITIES FROM CR1 MENTIONED FOR THE FIRST TIME!!! I STILL MISS ALLURA AND GILMORE

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good to know the pink bag protects from divination on this plane but just this one

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jester and the traveler figurine

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cad included the Traveler in the ‘chaotic forces’ i still think the traveler is some kinda arch fey evil things idk its real late here and this is incoherent

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‘well, thats been my morning tea‘ 

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caleb getting additional tour

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good aesthetic for the room tbh

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letting weird people in for morning tea is entertainment is a mood and something i strive to be able to do without getting murdered one day

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so yasha and caleb both have gotten the ‘stay with friends’ chat from a powerful being which is nice. but also the ‘use who you need to’ going to caleb is vaguely concerning

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personalized biscuits [bourbon, cinnamon, lobster, fish and three unknowns]

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‘caleb, what happened in there?’

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cad not believing caleb’s bullshit and opening doors for caleb warms my heart

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‘if this isn’t the death of us, and if not hes a good ally. somethings gonna be the death of us so [yolo]’

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‘you can’t bullshit everyone in this world’

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cad talking about beau telling the truth: ‘you’re not very good at it but you tried

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jester looking out for nott and her home town

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caleb and beau being cute while also giving each other shit is the most sibling like thing

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omg going back to allfield that was so long ago for fucks sake BRYCE my person thank god

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jester had a boy band phase its cannon and i think the girls had a sleepover in jester’s old room. also marion never leaves the hotel. THE RUBY NECKLACE MY HEART AND THE HONEY AWWWWW

‘the army of men and women and inbetween that will do as i want them to’ god i adore her being protective of jester

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also the fact matt makes such a good mom why is he like this

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travel time!!!! ‘roll for initiative’-tal

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how does matt keep these notes so organized and remember all the npc names

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the ranger/beast master in Laura is coming out with nugget

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caleb is a devout cat person and jester is the definition of a dog person

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nott refining oil on a magical moving cart, while jester reads a romance novel and trains a dog,

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Dyren- Beau’s roommate at colbot souls; ‘taught beau lots of really cool things’ got sent to a warfront. shaved head, dark clothes, buff b/c ‘been workin out’, ‘do you love her?’ they had ‘good times’, then literal booty call, and dropping locations, Dyren was in Bladegarden. ‘fierce eyebrows, pointed nose’

                    OH MY GOD THEY WERE ROOMMATES

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Vandren info drop to Fjord ‘he was making amends’

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Dyren responded and was hurt in Bladegarden but is safe. Beau looked immediately worried and happy about jester’s imput [’sounded way into you’]

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empire kids chat and caleb admitting insecurities about powerful people and being scared about the consequences of his actions and the group’s actions. caleb is scared about being forced to leave for safety and being ‘flayed alive’. my thoughts are he would leave if he became a threat to the others by being there or vise versa. trent would extort that b/c hes a dick

“caleb, unfortunately, you don’t get to choose who cares for you” you’re fucking correct Beau

“the problem with friends is that you have to care for them”

walks away “wow cool caleb! see- jester thinks you’re cool because shes your fucking friend!”

me too Tal “everything i like about those two characters in one conversation”

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5 years since Caleb left Trent and crew ie had a nervous breakdown

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gustav left town after being freed and trostenwald now has a WV accent that is too familiar

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100 extra soldiers in allfield. bryce is still up and kicking and wonderful. stuff ‘got this far east [quickly]’. the attacks came from underground apparently so fuck. the fields were burned, building destroyed a bit then they [Xhorhasians] left

“good thing is they’ve already been attacked so lightning doesn’t strike twice” oof thanks bryce

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beau just dead ass asking for illegal writing statements

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fjord having a thank u jesus bryce moment

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jester giving cad a pretty present is ‘so exciting’ and precious

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Cad not knowing cookbooks were a thing!!! and not being utterly literate enough to understand it

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wtf happened to liam’s voice in the ‘main export is oysters’ thing

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FELDERWEN!!!!!

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a dozen squads of 50 ppl each patrolling felderwen area so rippppp

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Nott knows where the halfing’s house is.... interesting... and is heavily drinking

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BLUE FLASH

elven woman in fine clothes of green and black ----lady vest durogna the arch mage of antiquity serboros assembly

a male figure in deep blue robes, older pale elf, fine clothes, the flash came from him----- martinette luden’th de____ arch mage of domestic protection

CALEB KNOWS THEM BOTH FROM THE ACADEMY AHHHHHH

he just lays flat and hides in the cart internally: ‘nopenopenopenope’

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several burned buildings, a warehouse, an inn, apothecary and several houses

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ohhhh shit the halfling was the owner of the apothecary and nott was looking for the shit she had been sending back this whole adventure....... im sad now that was confirmed

havent found a body of yeza

luke is yeza’s son at old edith’s house

            halflings only produce halflings according to something i read at some point but forget where sooooooooo

shattered vials and materials and house stuff

CHILDREN'S TOYS

locked basement which nott knows of?? Nott is anxious and impatient when the door doesn’t open. jester fails, yasha rages and at a 19 and doesn’t break the door. ‘it wasn’t [trapped]’ but dispel magic worked to open it.

a 15′x15′ room, tossed ‘not like you remember’ to nott, a 2x3 iron chest. a single chair in the center of the room. definitely a struggle with heavy impacts and blade scratched on wall

             nott was the torturer from the goblin tribe

chair was placed in the spot after the struggle

this was where he [yeza] kept chemicals according to nott

poisoned iron locked box (dull black glass)  inside a retractable silver tripod to hold something atop it, 3 empty vials 1 full one with a liquid/gas fog like dull colored thing, a pile of destroyed notes [two pieces of still legible paper which have props]

            dunamous field, causes ppl slow to be slower or faster, ‘captured crin operatives’ dunaments and dunamacy, origon gliffs, exist outside established schools of magic, theory in deeply rooted in arcana taken for granted, rooted in _____ town, 12-16 months to refine, word has found me that trent’s kiddos have knacks for this things, dreams are thrilling

well shittttt

            crin on battle fields, ‘breaking fields of fate, fuck the raven queen

SHIIIIIT

a piece of dunemous

dodecha goes in tripod according to beau

chair facing chest

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cricks did this apparently

a little under 100 crowns guard killed, 4 civilians burned

soldiers just ‘slowed down’ 

left via tunnels and collapsed them behind them

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nott dont be a bitch and don’t get mad at caleb and call them ‘his people’

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cad picks up caleb and ‘youre not at fault here, youre the solution here. don’t let her anger... its not about you’

my HEART

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the chest is too big for the haver sack but fits in lorenzo’s bag of holding

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people have entered and exited since the attack and left the chair and stuff

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lots ‘o chairs

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nott needs to see ledith and uke (?) and not flip the fuck out

‘humble hobble’

nott looked like halfling plump face, braids, tan skin

edith- human older, grey hair, beady eyes, ever present smile like face

          LUKE IS HER SON!!!!!!!!!!!!!! CANNON

         *edit- rewatching this and seeing ever one’s faces “wheres my son?!” particularly laura/liam/travis just hurt. liam just looked up after a second and travis did his face he does and laura just stiffened and eyes and hand to face. caleb/liam who knows just hugs himself the rest of the convo. marisha is note taking and fuck the video off now

about 5 yrs old, blue eyes, tan/light brown skin, halfling

gave him the doll of the king

IM GONNA CRY NOW BYE

‘HES PROABLY DEAD NOW TOO LIKE I THOUGHT YOU WER’

yenza locks him away when ‘the mean lady comes by’

mean lady has pointy ears and comes often, luke was kept in room, luke was pushed out of the house and told to go somewhere safe so he ran to edith’s house and ‘everything was on fire’

‘im not strong enough to come back yet but know that [im stll thinking of you and i send things] and i hope dad sends them to you.“ fuck my heart

“in my heart i think he is” “well don’t die”

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the elves are gong to the ruins of yenza’s house

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marisha looked so betrayed

tal ‘i was waiting for the riegel shoe to drop’

WOW

HEY CALEB- WOOOW

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we’ll pick up hiiiere

fuck you sam and matt and everything abou this my heart is just FUCKKK

ummm so enjoy the frantic poorly taken notes <3