#apart from try an support it when it does flick and keep tabs on what sets it off if anything

[skylordhorus]

alas my physio loosening my joints has not helped my whatever-the-fuck-my-ribs-or-smth is doing :(

[clavissionary-position]

GILBERT x READER

Giltea As Charged

ONESHOT . MODERN AU (Customer!Gilbert + Customer Support!Reader) IMPLIED INNUENDO AT THE END

minors/ageless blogs please do not read/like/reblog any of my works where this warning appears (you will be blocked)

x o x o x o

Your next caller sounds harmless enough, especially after the tempest just now.

"Mr. Leloser, more like." You tab out of that clownfest of a claim and click open a new blank one. "Hello. Thank you for calling Rhodolite Internet Services. May I have your name and a number I can reach you at in case we get disconnected?"

"Good afternoon. My name is Gilbert von Obsidian, but you can call me Gil. You can reach me at..."

You rapidly input his information into the appropriate fields. "Can you please confirm that your address... Wait, you live in Obsidian?"

"I do." Said as if not realizing how absurd it is to be calling from a different country.

"Uh..." Well. This kind of thing does happen a few times a week. For some reason. "I don't know how you got this hotline, but let me patch you to someone local-"

"That won't be necessary. I've got the correct number." The confidence with which he says this leaves you unsettled. You have no idea what this caller looks like but his smile cuts through the airwaves like a knife dropped from a counter.

You eye the top of Rio's head in the next cubicle before your gaze flicks to Sariel's office by the wall-spanning window.

"I don't know if I'm the best available representative to-"

"You are."

You're starting to miss Mr. Leloser.

And then the man, this Gilbert, he laughs. And it's mean and somehow evil, which makes this whole thing even more surreal.

"I just needed help with this one website," he says after an intake of breath. "I'm trying to order a custom tea blend."

"Gil, was it?" You choose your words carefully as you always do in this line of work. "I really think you ought to contact customer support with that specific website instead of-"

"Oh no! But I waited 45 minutes just to connect with you."

"I realize that, Sir, but there's not much that I can-"

"I know I want something with a rose-base. Let me read the options out to you."

What. What is he doing.

"Almond, apricot, black cherry..."

You're too stunned to say anything until he reaches vetiver root on his comprehensive list and makes some sort of disgusted hiss-sigh-tongue-click.

"Oh, I should probably mention that I'm looking for a blend that exudes a menacing, blood-freezing sort of vibe. As much as a tea can accomplish such, ahaha."

You could hang-up. You really could. Yes it would count against you, but this... is beyond ridiculous.

"Have you ever tasted poison? I think that would be a lovely aftertaste. For a bit of a surprise."

What kind of tea... POISON????

"Sir." You keep your voice measured and polite and as sane as you can muster. "This is an internet service provider, not a tea-consultation firm."

"Aw, but aren't you tired of your current job? Don't you think tea-consultant suits you more? You're already so clever and attuned to the needs of others."

Is this a joke? Is this a dream? Is this a nightmare?

"It's just a friendly little chat."

How is he doing this?

Your eyes dart frantically around the office. Rio seems to have gone for his break. Sariel is by the water-cooler with Leon.

"...I really do hope you can advise me, as a friend."

The way he says those last three words rearranges everything else that came before it. You close your eyes and pinch the bridge of your nose. Your lips twist into a different shape. Your body melts into your swivel-chair. "Read me the list again."

x o x o

Several hours later, you stomp into your apartment and make a beeline for the recliner in the sunroom. There you find an agreeable-looking man nose-deep in a book.

He peers up with his sole, gleaming red eye. "How was your day?"

You sit your hands on your hips and glare. "When I say I wanted to try roleplay at work, that was not what I meant."

[jinkicake]

Love You Like I Can

Hinata, Kenma, Tendou when their darling finally breaks up with their s/o.

Hinata Shouyou x Reader

Kozume Kenma x Reader

Tendou Satori x Reader

Anon, I apologize, I kinda branched off into something much darker than you maybe intended,,,,,, I couldn’t help myself/still can’t believe I wrote this LOL........ For those wondering what my Feitan writings are like, it is like this but much worse,,,,, sigh. Also! Please let me know if I forgot to tag a tw, I think I got it all,,,,

SMUT // NSFW

TW : heavy implications of yandere themes, stalking, kidnapping, sadistic/masochist behavior, dubcon (kinda),,, 

Take this into consideration before you read ^^^

WC- 2,171

~~~

Hinata Shouyou

Do you know Yoosung from Mystic Messenger,,,, LOL I think you guys know where I am going with this,,, Yoosung is the same type of yandere that Hinata would be like…. In this situation/in my mind

Hinata is so sweet and pure that it almost seems unreal for him to be possessive and protective,,,, not to mention obsessive and controlling,,,, so you never see it coming

Pls, if he sees you talking to any guy that isn’t him ,,,,, or any person even,,,, I think he would get really riled up 

He’d want to be with you always and be the only one that you’re thinking about…. 

Hinata just reminds me of that soft boy™ who would turn out to be a mf yandere type….. 

Let’s say you go to Shiratorizawa and you know Hinata from volleyball,,, bc your s/o also plays volleyball. When word gets out that you and your s/o break up, Hinata would be the first to comfort you and would be so supportive with everything you do

Then it kinda goes to shit because one minute you’re drinking something and then the next you’re waking up in an unknown room that you’ve never seen before. You’re all tied up and can barely move, can barely focus on what is even in the room

When you finally wake up Hinata is so happy and he still has that exciting energy he always has,, he’s like ‘ah I’ve been waiting for ten hours and now you’re finally awake!!!!’ And if you try to ask like where you are and stuff, Hinata would just say some bs like ‘you’re with me?’

This mf,,,,, I feel like when he tortures you, he kinda twists it into a way that it makes it seem like he is doing it for your own benefit. Like him carving his initials into your skin is to protect you and for everyone to know who you belong to, that sorta thing

Hinata would put all his energy into showing you why you belong with him, why you two need to be together, he’d probably punish you for not seeing it sooner and that’s where the angry sex comes in….

“Didn’t you know I was there for you all along?” Hinata asks curiously, still thrusting three of his fingers inside of you while ignoring the muffled whines and cries that leave your lips. “Why did it take you so long to come to me?” He continues to ask, a frown taking up his face as he voices his thoughts. His fingers inside of you once brought pleasure but now they are bringing pain, he has made you cum five times and has not once stopped. Your walls are feeling so stretched and every touch to your clit feels like you’re being shocked with electricity, it hurts. “Don’t you realize how much I love you? Why not me? Am I not good enough for you?” 

His orange hair dips as his frustration oozes out of him and he flicks his wrist as he curls his fingers inside of you, dragging along your walls to find that one spot. 

“You’re all mine now, I don’t have to worry anymore, right?” He growls and stares at you, his eyebrows furrowed and the dark look on his face makes him look unrecognizable. 

“You don’t have to worry anymore, Shouyo-“ You cry, and your back arches into the air as he finally drags his fingers along that spot. 

“Good, good.” He sighs happily and uses his other hand to rub your clit with four of his fingers. “I love you (Y/N), I love you so much and now you’re all mine!” 

Hinata’s eyes light up with need as he stares at your swollen clit getting tortured underneath his fingers, his mouth waters at the sight of your cum spilling down his wrist. Hinata sticks his tongue out of his mouth in concentration as he repeatedly snaps his wrist to thrust his curled fingers along your walls and his mouth drops out when you squirt all over him. 

“You must love me so much, don’t you (Y/N)?” Hinata asks you and you don’t have the nerve to tell him that you hadn’t just cum, not when he is like this. His orange hair dips once again between your thighs as he mutters to himself. “It is so obvious, how did I never notice before.”

Kozume Kenma 

Now,,, with Kenma….. I think his feelings would be really dormant for a while,,,, like he would always have these obsessive tendencies with you but he would be able to control it and hide it

He’d become your friend and gain your trust,,, then stick cameras in your room when you’re not watching so then he can always know what you’re doing 

Kenma is the type where your friends would joke about him having a little crush on you and you’d all laugh it off but in reality,,, Kenma is obsessed with you…. He doesn’t simply have a crush on you,,, he is in love with you

And as soon as you break up with your s/o, all his restraint will fly out the window. He will have zero problems taking you back to his own apartment/room and keep you there,,,,, Kenma does this in a way so that it makes you think you have control over the situation like you’re going to his place because you want to

He kinda reminds me of 707 type yandere you know? I don’t know why I keep referring to mystic messenger character but it helps me write this so…. 

Kenma won’t pay any attention to you or give you any attention but just simply having you in the same room as him makes him feel calmer, he lets you talk or rant for as long as you like,,, he is very manipulative with this whole thing

However, when Kenma finally has enough of you talking about your stupid ex s/o that he cannot stand ,,,, he will shut you up

Cue him kissing you and shit~,,, this will go from 0 to 100 real quick like what you think is your ‘friend’ trying to make you feel better will turn into Kenma’s dormant feelings exploding with every touch

All his previous feelings of rejection and just an obsessive need to make you his will surface,,, but he does it in such a way that it isn’t that intense and you’re into it…… even if he has an entire closet filled with sex toys that he wants to use on you 

Kenma will leave physical marks on you….. You’re not coming out of this the same, no, he has a hold on you now and he is never going to let go 

“Kenma!” You cry out as his slender cock rubs along your walls, his arms tighten around you and you moan again at the feeling of his warm skin.

“I can fuck you so much better than they could,” He whispers into your ear as he twists your leg up into an odd angle, one that makes it easier for him to dive deeper into you but also makes your muscle scream in pain. 

“W-what?” You ask, unable to focus on what Kenma is saying due to heat taking over your body. 

“You never moaned like this with them before,” Kenma mentally notes and begins to bite down on your neck, letting his thin hair tickle your jaw. “I’m going to show you how much I care about you.” 

You can only nod at his words, even if you have zero clues what he is saying, it doesn’t really matter when he’s fucking you this good. It’s like you can’t even remember your own name.

“You like that, don’t you?” He coos in amazement and tests his theory as he sits up on the back of his calves, holding you up by your waist with your legs draped over his shoulders, practically fucking you upside down. This new angle makes you feel everything, and the gravitational pull on your breasts makes you grab onto them which brings a new wave of pleasure.

“Oh, Kenma I’ve never been fucked like this before,” You mewl happily and take pleasure in the way he is quite literally rearranging your guts. Kenma smirks to himself and digs his nails into your waist, watching as you wince slightly.

“I know, I know.” He mutters quietly and continues to smack his hips into your ass, watching with heavily lust-filled eyes at the way you squirm at the sting. “What kind of filthy whore likes this kind of play?” Kenma wonders in amusement, the deep crescent moon shapes are left into your skin by his nails and Kenma starts to wonder what exactly else he can get away with you.

Tendou Satori 

Tendou,,,, ah,,, I kept thinking about this one for a while…… 

He would somehow always be able to keep tabs on you,,, even if you’re not really friends and if you go to different schools. Whether it be that he just always keeps himself updated on your social media or hears a lot about you, 

Any aspect of your life… Tendou will somehow know about it without you even realizing it… He also is very attentive with your s/o too and always keeps tabs on them as well and very soon it turns into an obsession like Tendou has to have you 

Tendou wants you so badly and all to himself, to the point that he can’t hold himself back and he needs to talk to you 

Even if you go to different schools Tendou will coincidentally run into you, it is so perfect that you’d never expect that every minor detail was planned, and he slowly builds up your friendship from there

Tendou seems like the type to be very clingy and always touching you but not to the point where you’re weirded out by it,,,, he does it in a way that you genuinely come to like…. You and your s/o probably break up because of Tendou 

I feel like Tendou would manipulate his actions so that you genuinely fall for him,,,, which works perfectly for him because now he has you all to himself

It’s like a flip is switched and Tendou goes from your caring friend to the possessive person he is, all his feelings come pouring out and he can’t help the way he treats you

I feel like when you cry it turns him on so he wants to see your tears when he fucks you,,,, Tendou plans everything he does and manipulates every aspect so you start to enjoy it and you think it is just some hot sex when really….. it is just Tendou showing you everything he feels for you 

You are literally his after this,,,, Tendou is not going to let you go,,,, and you wouldn’t want it any other way

Your elbows give out after a particularly hard thrust and you fall face-first into the mattress. Tendou grins and cockily rolls his shoulders back before pressing on the back of your head with his palm to shove your face into the sheets. You can barely fucking breathe but with the way Tendou is slapping his hips into your ass and the way his balls are deliciously slamming into your clit, you don’t care.

“You’ve always wanted my attention, haven’t you?” Tendou spits and narrows his eyes down at you. “You always wanted me to fuck you like this, I know how much you like me.” He throws out into the air and if you could nod, you would. “That little Seijoh boy can’t fuck you like this? Can he?” Tendou mocks and you moan loudly at his words. “If only he could see you now, see how good I am fucking you.”

Tendou brings his hand down to slap your ass, the arch in your back has your ass practically shoved into his face. His grin only widens when he sees how your ass jiggles for him and how each thrust has your tits slapping your face. 

“Tell me I’m the biggest cock you’ve ever had.” He twists your hair around his fist and yanks your neck so that your face is slightly up again. You take in a deep breath of fresh air and whine loudly. 

“Yes,” You cry and Tendou raises an eyebrow before slapping your ass again, laughing at the way tears fall down your face at the sting. 

“Yes, what?” He asks darkly and places his had right against your spine, right above your ass before pressing down hard. The pressure makes you sob even harder and you whimper at the pain.

“You have the b-biggest cock I’ve ever had.” You repeat and relax into the sheets when he starts fucking you again, the fast pace is something you refuse to try and even keep up with so you lay against the sheets with your eyes closed.

“Don’t fall asleep on me now (Y/N), we aren’t even close to being done.”

~

Taglist.

@yams046 @why-am-i-sad-and-sleepy @xhanjisungiex @xxashshs @chaosamu @angelkogane @augustdearly @kunimwuah  @lovellucy @osamuonigiri @pearzuko @darksxder

[bebepac]

Falling For You

I am participating in @wackydrabbles​ Prompt # 94 courtesy of @rookie-ramsey​  “I’m giving you one last chance.” which will appear in bold.

This is also chapter 4 of The Meet:  To catch up on what you’ve been missing, please click:  The Meet

The Book:  TRR

Pairing:  Liam x Jilian (Liam x F!OC) / Leo x Bebe? (Leo x F!OC)

 Warnings: profanity, I think.   Fluff.  I really think Drama Whore is locked in a basement somewhere.  

Leo, Liam and Maddy belong to pixelberry.  Jilian belongs to my friend @queenjilian​ , and all others are my own characters to help support our story.

Summary:  Jilian and Liam celebrate their six month anniversary.  Leo shows up to Bebe’s apartment unannounced.  

A/N:  This took a different turn than originally anticipated.  Thank you @dcbbw​ for giving me an idea to rework a section, and @queenjilian​ as I feel we talk about this series daily.

This keeps taking a turn on me guys.  I’m sorry I don’t outline.  But I guess that is part of the magic here too.

Word Count: 1496

ORIGINAL POST DATE: 05/11/21 at 12:15PM EST.

He couldn't help but stare.  She was so beautiful, even while she was sleeping.  

"Liam, don't be creepy."

Jilian opened her eyes looking at him.

Liam’s mannerisms turned incredibly bashful.

"I can't help it.  You're a vision.  I am completely enamored by you, Jilian Winchester. Happy six month anniversary.   I have something for you.”

Jili gasped. Her work schedule the past few weeks had been so hectic she had totally forgotten the date. That night was the first time in several weeks they had actually been able to see each other.

Jili was panicked.  

“What’s wrong?”

“I didn’t realize the date.. Work has been so crazy. I know that’s not an excuse.”

He held out his gift for her.  She felt guilty.

“I don’t have anything for you Liam. I’m sorry.”

“That’s not the reason you give a gift to someone Jili."

He pulled the small perfectly wrapped jewelry sized box out of the dresser.

Jili sat up in bed, the covers drifting a bit revealing bare skin, to which Liam's eyes quickly fell upon.

"Jili, your body is present enough for me.  You are absolute perfection."

She opened the box.  Inside was an adorable charm bracelet.  

The charms on the bracelet were all medical inspired.  There was a medical bag, a stethoscope, a little ambulance, and she took particular time with the caduceus.  

“This is a beautiful gift.”  

“I see you’re staring at the Caduceus. Did you know….”

“It’s Greek.  The symbol goes back to Greco-Egyptian mythology.”

Liam’s eyes flashed in interest.

“Greece has always been on my bucket list, Liam.  I’m going to make it to Santorini someday. What I’ve seen of it in movies and in books,  I have to see that in real life.”

“And you will.  Maybe I’ll make it there with you.”  

“Maybe. Thank you for the beautiful gift.”  

“Anytime love.”

His lips met hers again in a sultry kiss.  Jili melted in his arms, falling back into the pillows. 

 She could be late for work once.  

Liam at dinner that night couldn’t be more sweet and romantic.  The flowers, the music and the dancing.  He just made her feel like she was the only woman in the world when he looked at her the way he was at that moment.      

“How do you do it Liam?”

“Do what?”  He questioned her.

“Make me feel like the most beautiful girl in the world?”

“That’s easy Jili.  You are.”

Liam paid for the check and Jili booked the rideshare back to her place.   While Liam was in the restroom she got a text from the driver saying they had arrived.

“Shit!”  Jili ran out of the restaurant, texting Liam “Silver Honda accord “

She jumped into the honda.

“I’m sorry!  My boyfriend will be out in a second.”

“Jaiden Brooks?”  

“No.”

Jili glanced at her phone.

“I was sure it said silver honda accord.”  

“It is.. But there’s also one behind us.”

“And you’re not Chloe.”  

The man chuckled.  “I’ve been called a lot of names in my life,  Chloe is not one of them.”  

Jili jumped out of the vehicle barreling head first into a guy.

“Whoa, moonlighting as an offensive lineman?”  

“It’s how I went pro.”  Jili flexed her muscles.

He laughed, his soft brown eyes twinkled.  

“You take it easy now.”

“Likewise.”  

She smiled as she walked to the second Silver Honda Accord.  

Still in earshot she heard a woman come up next to him.  

“Are you serious Jai?”

“What?”  He seemed genuinely confused.

“You’re flirting and looking at some random chick right in front of me?”

Jaiden looked exasperated.  “Carmen, I wasn’t looking at her!!!!!  She ran into me, I was polite to her, that’s all.”

“You would say that now that you’ve been caught.”  

She pointed her manicured finger at him.

“I’m giving you one last chance.”  

“I WASN’T LOOKING AT HER!!!!  Carmen, you're my girlfriend!!!!”  

They climbed into the car, and Jili was sure their argument was far from over.

Liam joined her a few moments later, pulling her into his arms.  

“I’m glad we have such a healthy relationship.”

“What brought this on?”

“I just saw this couple.  I ran into the guy by accident.  The girl immediately accused him of cheating.”  

“Well…. Maybe he gave her a reason to, in their past.”  

“He really didn’t seem like the type.  He cracked a corny joke.  Seemed really kind.”

“We’ll never know Jili.”  

Author’s note:  Ohhhh But we will.  We’ll know all about Jaiden Brooks at a later date…

Bebe was out in the bar with Leo.  Something they did from time to time.  They have been a wing man/woman for each other  several times now.  That night  she had been a wing woman for him. He was chatting up a cute blonde.  Things looked to be going well for him.  He gave Bebe a wink.

She gave him a thumbs up, studying the two continuing to flirt.   The girl was cute and petite, and appeared to be hanging on Leo’s every word. He seemed interested, and they looked cute together.  

Her stomach grumbled.  Was it the foreshadowing of her monthly monster coming to wreak havoc on her life for the better part of the week rearing its ugly head early?

Bebe winced at the pair.  Tears filled her eyes.

What was that feeling?  She didn’t like it.  Had to be the cramps. She shrugged it off.

Her work was done for the night.  Leo had settled her tab, and would be leaving shortly with Ms. Blondie.  

Bebe headed for home herself, the weird feeling still tugging at her heart, her stomach still feeling a mess.

She didn’t hear from Leo for a few days.  

Until he texted her late that afternoon.

‘Sup Girl?’

‘Nothin’ much.’

‘Can I come over?’

‘Not in the mood.’

‘I didn’t ask for that. You know we have emojis for that.’

She laughed.

‘Not tonight Leo.’

Thirty minutes later there was a knock on her door.  Bebe dragged herself off the couch.

Leo had two bags of goodies.

“I got you your favorite.  Mint chocolate chip, some chocolate syrup, and your white chocolate kit kats you love, and there’s a meat lovers pizza on the way, and I got root beer and Funjuns.”  

“Leo?”  

“How did I know?  As much as I’m around, I kind of know when you go M.I.A, and why. So can I come in?”  

Bebe glanced down at herself.   She was in a pair of dark gray sweatpants and a Hartfeld Heels tee shirt.  

“You look fine, now let me in! This ice cream is going to melt.”

It was the first time Leo had been over to her place, not for sex.  

“So what are we watching?”

“The Time Traveler’s Wife.”  

“Ahhh chick flicks. Bring it on.  I’m going to put this in the freezer unless you want it now?”

Bebe took the mint chocolate chip ice cream, and syrup away from him.  

“We’re doing dessert first, I can dig it. So am I.”  

Leo liked butter pecan and had brought himself a carton as well.  He put the rest of the items on the table until the pizza arrived.

“I’m getting comfortable then alright?”

“That’s fine.”  Bebe shouted when he walked into her bedroom.  

Leo came back after a minute in her pink leopard print robe.  

She shook her head at Leo.

“What?!?!?!  I see why you bought it.  I like the way it feels on my skin.”

Leo was truly something else.

“That’s probably the pizza.”  He went to the door in the robe zero fucks given. Bebe roared in laughter.  Leo just didn’t give a damn about anything.  

Bebe found herself fishing for details.  “So I thought you’d be hanging out with Miss blondie.”

“Meh. Maddy was alright.  But she really didn’t have much of a personality.  I won’t be seeing her again. Why were you jealous?”

Bebe shrugged it off in a nonchalant way.  “No. Not at all.”  

“Trying to keep Mr. not all of him is fun sized for your own personal enjoyment?”

She hit him laughing.   She nudged his shoulder.  

“Thanks for coming over and hanging out with me.”  

He nudged her back.  “Anytime.”  

He put his arm around Bebe and both focused on the movie.  Later she relaxed to resting her head in his lap.  He softly played in her hair.  

She heard Leo sniffling towards the end of the movie. 

She glanced up at him.

“Leo, are you crying?”

“No.”  He quickly wiped his eyes.  

"The tin man really does have a heart."

"It's a sad story okay. Why couldn't they just live happily ever after?"

"That's not the way life is."

"It should be. You should be able to be with the one you want.  That wants you."

She sat up looking at Leo.

Bebe giggled. "When did you become such a hopeless romantic?"

Leo softly stroked her cheek.   

Bebe stopped giggling abruptly as she gazed into his eyes.  

There was so much fire and passion in Leo’s eyes, that Bebe gasped.

Leo’s signature smirk crossed his face, as he leaned in and claimed Bebe’s lips that were in a seductive pucker for his own.  

Tags in the comments!

[park-thatasshere]

With A Face Not Even A Mother Could Love

Facials was by all means             

                                                                       the last thing you had in mind

Featuring: Jungkook Genre: Smut (facials) Word Count: 2.6k

m.list

A/N: Just dropping in to say hi. Thank you so much to @chimmysdick for being a pillar of support with my craft and just life in general. This fic is of course nc-17 so read at your own risk but please enjoy.

Should you really be thinking this with him so close to you? Fuck, should you be thinking about this at all?

It was a nice gesture for him to take time out of his Friday night to come help you do some last minute cramming, but how did he expect you to focus when he’s wearing that Tommy Hilfiger cologne he knows drives you crazy? 

Okay, he doesn’t know it drives you crazy...but he should by now with all the squirming and squi-

“___, is something wrong?”

“...No why do you ask?” Your face heats up, further succumbing to the guilt of being a complete horndog.

“You haven’t answered my question.”

“Oh I’m sorry what was the question?”

“I asked which bone marrow is considered to be life saving.” At this point Jungkook doesn’t seem amused in the slightest.

You rack your brain trying to skim through your memory of which one your professor emphasized on multiple occasions only to draw a blank. “Leukocytes?”

Jungkook visibly deflates, “That’s not even an option.”

You give him a comical smile topped off by a lazy shrug of your shoulders. “Look ___, I really want to help you but if you’re not feeling up to it we can try this again some other time.”

“No, I’m sorry I’ve just been...distracted is all.” You close your eyes in resignation flinging yourself onto the floor.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

You keep your face buried into your arms debating on whether or not you should profess your frenzied desire to have his cock beat your pussy black and blue. “Not really,” is what you settle on.

He gently shuts the textbook and places it on the table, muscles rippling underneath his white T-shirt with the action. “How about we take a break and order something to eat or something.”

He doesn’t know what’s bothering you but one thing is for sure, whatever it is, food will most certainly take your mind off of it.

You nod in agreement, whipping your phone out to order take

While Jungkook heads for the bathroom, you take a moment to think back to how the both of you got to this moment on your couch.

You knew of the whimsical Jeon Jungkook for quite some time before you were formally introduced to him. Every mention of him is filled with nothing less of pure adoration, admiration, and lust. He is very successful in his academic career. In order to keep him, and his high test scores, eager to learn, his high school had to bump him up two grade levels, or so the tale goes. 

You’d be a fool not to believe it though,you are two years his senior and you’re learning more from him than he ever could from you, other than how to be a functioning alcoholic.

You never thought much of the snot nosed kid in the beginning other than what you’d heard. But he’s shown his worth on many of your shit faced nights stranded at parties, as well as cramming sessions. Much like the one you’re having now, hours before a really big final. 

He was alright to you, you soon concluded.

More than alright even, but that makes you wonder. What is such a clean cut wonder boy hiding behind all those manners and gentlemanly gestures? 

You peek over your shoulder for any signs of movement coming from the bathroom door. Assuming Jungkook is hosting D-day in your toilet, you commence to sneak a peek at what lies within his laptop.

You open up the browser and click on history. Skimming through the list only finding a seemingly endless list of research material and obscure google searches. After a minute more of snooping through the list, a light bulb goes off. 

P r i v a t e browser

Your fingers hurriedly brush over the mouse pad, opening up the obscure browser only to see a screen filled with a plethora of open tabs

PORNAGRAPHIC tabs.

You click on random ones frantically loading up each web page to take a gander at what Jungkook spends late nights beating off to.

Cumshot facial compilation. Cheating gf takes biggest facial of her life. Premium bukkake. Sloppy face fucking. Bukkake gangbang.

The list is very telling on his foreplay preferences, but facials? Facials are by all means the last thing you had in mind. Actually, you don't know what you had in mind. Maybe something on the more purer spectrum, like mild nipple play. You did not expect Jungkook to be into such a degrading kink.

You’re stuck in a reverie of conflicting emotions. A part of you wishes that Jungkook is the sweet innocent boy he portrayed around school, having never been kissed and what not. A pure virgin. While the other half of you was silently relieved that maybe he wasn’t so prudish after all. In fact, a straight freak. 

You’re pulled out of your thoughts with the clicking of the bathroom’s door lock and a hushed chorus of swear words. You slam the laptop shut completely mortified at being caught snooping.

You’re both left speechless, but then again what can really be said under these circumstances. You weren’t sure exactly what he saw but you damn sure knew you were not sticking around for the fallout.

“Actually I think I’m going to hit the hay, I’m not feeling too well.” He gave an apologetic smile.

“Oh! Is it a fever?” He’s reaching a palm for your forehead before you even have time to step away and your reflexes cause you to smack his hand away. Way to make the situation a lot more shitty.

“Uh, yeah well goodnight. I’ll let myself ou-” you don’t even give him a chance to finish his statement before you head to your room, slamming the door behind you.

He ponders over the post bathroom break exchange before he’s back to packing away his things. “I wonder why she was in such a hurry to shut my laptop.” 

Upon opening his laptop, his entire face flushes at the contents he’s faced with. Pornhub, wide open and anything but discreet. After putting the pieces together he becomes completely mortified, moreso because he was sporting a half chub in spite of all that had transpired. He wastes no time in leaving your apartment in complete shame at what you must think of him.

Little does he know that you’re pressed up against your bedroom door entirely enthralled with salacious thoughts of his cock drilling your throat.

There are no texts. No calls. No messenger birds being sent two and fro. Absolutely nothing over the span for a week and a half. 

You yourself vowed to stay away from the boy, in hopes your lust for him would fizzle out.

It didn’t.

You wish you were better at defusing situations and being the bigger person. That’d make it a lot easier to march right up to the onyx haired bow and flick him in his perfectly proportionate forehead for not texting you andohmygodjungkookisstandingrightfuckingthere. 

Of course he’d be here, you coerced him to volunteer to present a booth with you to keep you company. For extra credit, of course, not that he needed it but you sure did. You remember when your professor eagerly spoke about the Convention, droning on and on about how we would greatly benefit from attending. Then slapping down a clipboard down onto her podium with a sign up roster on it. You pleaded and begged Jungkook to sign up with you, even using the cheap “there’s gonna be free food and booze” line.

He’s looking sharp, and you want to dissipate into water vapor because you comparatively look and feel like a dirty napkin.

He’s wearing a dark button up, sleeves rolled in a relaxed manner, with semi-tight slacks to match. His belt cinches to his waste, only emphasizing his cute ass. His hair haphazardly drapes over his forehead and you don’t think you’ve ever seen him look this damn sexy.

Clearly you’re staring for too long because the burn of your eyes pulls his attention from the conversation presented to him and directly towards you. The eye contact is brief before he whips his head around redirecting his attention to the couple seemingly immersed in the stimulating discussion before them. You watch him exchange a few pleasantries with them before he sets his drink to the side and walks off.

Your feet are frantically speed walking through the cigar smoke and stench of hard liquor before you can even register or piece together what you’ll say once you catch up to him.

You find him slumped down on some god awful read pleather couch in one of the spare conference rooms, head in hands.

“Who said you could just waltz away whenever you pleased. You still have an hour and a half on your shift.” You chastise all in good fun.

His head jumps up at the sound of your voice and he visibly starts to clam up. “I wasn’t- I didn’t-”

You flop down next to him, a bold move on your part, before speaking up. “About last Friday…” You trail off.

“I know. You must think I’m disgusting.” He’s back to sulking.

“Nooo, why would I think you’re disgusting?”

“Because...of what you found on my computer.”

Now it's time for you to go flush. He knew this whole time!?

You’re actually hot from the sheer mortification that he knew you knew.

“You must think I’m a complete pervert.”

“Being a pervert isn’t always a bad thing, I like perverts.” First attempt and consoling was a fail.

“You what?” His brows furrow at your strange statement.

“I like perverts? Besides, have you ever even tried giving a facial?”

“I mean no, I’ve only ever been with one girl but she was pretty much a one sided lover. I never really got to experiment other than missionary and painful blowjobs.”

“Do you want to? Right now?”

His eyes grow to the size of saucers. This was definitely a proposition. Something seemingly straight from one of his porno’s. Wait! He needs to humble himself, he can’t just use his close friend like some kind of gloryhole can he?

“I don’t think this is a good idea ___-”

“Shut up kid, I’ve been craving your cock for a week and a half and I refuse to practice self control any longer.” And with that you drop to your knees before him and spread apart his legs to make room for yourself. You stare at him expectantly for a few moments until he gets the hint and hurriedly unzipped his pants and slips both his pants and boxers seamlessly down the length of his thighs.

Your eye to eye with his weeping red tip. The first thing that comes to mind is big, you were excited to finally get a hearty helping of his dick.

It jumps toward you, an invitation to welcome him into your silky throat. You haven’t tasted cock in a while and the scent alone sends your senses into a frenzy. 

“I like you!” He rushes out in a hurried exhale. You flick your eyes up to see his visage marred in a scarlet hue. It tickles your ego to know that the ripened Jungkook feels so small in your presence, even with his hefty cock in your view.

Awkward silence fills the space between the both of you before you realize he’s probably expecting an answer.

“...I like you too Jungkook”, another awkward pause “I’m sorry I’m not used to explicitly expressing my feelings. This,” you worry your lower lip and gesture to the current situation, “usually suffices.”

You don’t spend time dwelling on the formalities. 

His cock is anchored with a tight grip, you poke your tongue out to administer skittish licks along the ridges and veins of his member. Jungkook let’s out a needy whimper, one that has you shivering.

You finally open your mouth just wide enough to slip the head of his cock in. You suckle on it as if it held life's secrets. While one hand gripped his thick cock, the other reached down to cup his balls. Your teasing ministrations never halted as you dribbled all over the tip whilst gently rolling his balls. You could feel his testicles tighten and that was just the beginning of his end.

His head is thrown back, thighs flexing with every particularly hard suck. 

“P-put it in please, your mouth.” His eyes are glossy, voice coated in a whine.

Without further adieu you take the whole of him into your slick mouth. The initial stretch is a bitch to get used to as he fills you fully but once your saliva starts to pool on his cock you’re able to slip him in even further.

You bob your head up and down to the sound of soft melodic moans, periodically stopping to gargle his balls into your mouth. His jaw is clenched in uninterrupted ecstasy and your pussy throbs at the sight alone.

Jungkook gets adventurous, reaching over to grip your hair before shoving you down on his cock once again. He was encased in a warm frenzied haze of lust, wanting nothing more than to coat your pretty little face in his emission. 

He abruptly stood to his full length, never leaving your mouth as he walks you over to an open space within the room. His fingers tug at your soft tresses even tighter as he starts face fucking you. Slick sloppy tell tale signs of the pummeling your throat was getting resounded around you.

He’s thrown all caution to the wind as he thrusts his hips forward at a steady pace. “F-fuck ___, you’re good at this.” You press your tongue against his shaft, to garner another response.

You eyes water at the ache in your jaw at the sudden intrusion, trying to alleviate the discomfort by breathing through your nose. In this moment the only thing you’re both focused on is getting him to his release and it shows with the way you start bobbing your head in time with his thrusts, allowing him to bottom out in your tiny little throat each time.

His fingers falter around the strands of hair so tightly wrapped around his knuckles, betraying him.

“I’m so-“ Jungkook breathed raggedly, “So...close.”

He casts his gaze down to you, eyes dropping with pleasure and mouth left agape for many labored breaths and moans to be escape.

His pace quickens, grunts becoming more apparent. Not even a second later he’s pulling your hair to release you from his dick.

One hand tugging on a fistful of your hair while the other is rapidly jerking him to his orgasm. Your eyes are closed while you give him a brilliant smile. Soon enough you feel the spurt of hot, sticky cum land on your face.

You open your eyes to see Jungkook completely captivated by his handiwork. Your mouth is wet with saliva, a mixture of spit and cum coating your lips and dripping down your face and cheek.

“How do I look?” 

“Like a fucking goddess.” 

He helps you up, ushering you over to the couch before he’s pressing up against your back suckling on the side of your neck. You lose your footing and trip onto the couch, on all fours mind you.

“I’m gonna fuck you right here, just like this... okay?” It was really a question but the concern on his face said otherwise. 

You nod your head and just as he's about to lift your dress there is a loud knock on the door.

“Jungkook? Are you in there? Some of our guests would like to speak with you.” A muffled voice who you believe to be your professor spoke on the other side of the door.

“Better get going wonder boy.” You catch the giggle that threatens to spill from your mouth.

He waves your comment off, begrudgingly stepping out of the door and you can’t believe just how nice his ass looks in those pants.

[dragonrajafanfiction]

Dragon Dancer IV: Whirlwind

I looked down at Ru’Yi, bouncing her in my arms and singing her a little song. Her bright black eyes stared intently at mine, memorizing every inch of my face. “You’re a little sweetie.”

“I can’t wait for your Daddy to meet you. You really are Ru’Yi... just what he wanted.” I cooed, pressing her little button nose.

A knock at the door.

I got up, adjusting my bra from where it had gotten uneven from this morning’s feeding. I peeked through the peep hole. A man stood there in a suit. He flashed his badge from the Executive department. 

I opened the door. “Hello. Everything okay?”

“Schneider is asking for you. He needs to ask you some questions... about your husband.”

“Oh... Oh!” My eyes brightened and I smiled. “Ok, Give me just a second.”

He smiled and nodded at me.

I hurried to do my hair, put some eyeliner on and try not to look like I had spent the entire morning laying around.

I returned to the door with a bounce in my step, Ru’yi wrapped securely on my back. “Sorry. You didn’t call me first... Or else I would have been ready.”

I followed the officer down the hall. Mingfei must have talked to Schneider about Johann. Johann was the one who had introduced me to the Executive Department and Schneider was the head. Likely, if there was any investigation opening into the matter, Schneider would be interested.

He helped me into a small blue sedan and we drove away from the apartment. 

“Those wraps are very interesting.” The officer said.

“Yeah, super convenient. Do you have any kids?” I looked up at him.

“No. I’ve wanted some but... this isn’t exactly the job for it.”

“Yeah...” I lowered my eyes and gave a sad little sigh. Then the bottom fell out from my mood. If only Johann had come home earlier. If only I’d stopped him from going on that mission to Norway...

“Sore topic. Sorry.”

“No, its... I’ll be okay.” I took a shaky breath. 

Officers were swarming the Executive building. Some of them shouted into their phone, running down the stairs. “Oh my gosh... what’s going on?” I asked with wide eyes.

The officer I was with didn’t answer. He led me into a building and then into a brick walled, windowless room. “Please sit. He’ll be here with you soon.”

He pointed to a small metal chair. I sat. It was cold and hard against my bottom. “Okay.”

He shut the door.

I knew this place as the interrogation room. My heart leaped in my chest. Why was I being interrogated? Did something happen to Mingfei?

I reached in my purse and pulled out my phone. Of course, I had no signal in here, but he hadn’t contacted me at all since he left after breakfast the day before. “Oh no...” I whispered. My heart started to race. What if he disappeared? What if he was gone too? 

He wasn’t gone. I would have felt it if he was gone. Did something else happen to him?

The door opened again and Schneider rolled into the room in his wheelchair followed by Toyama, my psychologist.

I looked around in alarm. “Is Mingfei okay?”

Schneider looked at me directly, silent, eyes cold.

“Did something happen? Please... tell me he’s alive.”

“Meixiu... relax.” Schneider’s voice was raspy but soothing. “Nothing happened.”

I gasped. He called me Meixiu. I took a deep breath. “You... ... that’s the name Johann gave me. Do you remember him?”

Schneider’s eyes didn’t change expression. He looked down at the child in my arms. She was already yawning. "No... why would I remember him?”

My shoulders dropped. “Because you mentored him. He was your Ace. Anything you assigned him he would do. You protected him.”  I sighed and looked away. “Never mind.”

“I’m sorry. I only know that name from what Toyama here has shared with our department.” He directed my atteniton to Ru’yi with a nod of his head. “She’s a calm baby. Does she sleep well at night?”

“Yeah. She’s like her dad that way. And... I just fed her a few minutes ago so... she’ll be out in a few minutes.”

“Do you need anything, a drink or a blanket?” Schneider asked.

My eyes shifted from Schneider and Toyama, growing suddenly cautious. “What’s going on? Why am I here?”

Schneider paused a few moments. “Meixiu, we believe, you may be in danger. We want to protect you and Ru’yi, but we need some information.” 

"Danger?”

He nodded solemnly. “I won’t mock you for what you remember. I want to hear what you have to say. What you have to say may be crucial. So whatever it is... please tell me.”

“You remember a man named Johann Chu. But I only remember you. You were the one I mentored. You were my Ace Agent. You were the one who never failed me.”

My eyes widened in my face. “Me?”

He nodded slowly. “Will you talk to me? Answer my questions as best you can.”

“Yeah.” I whispered.

“I need you to tell me, what happened between you and Mingfei when he returned home from the mission.”

“I was afraid of him.” I said. “I didn’t know what I would do if he thought I was his wife. But he didn’t even know we were married.”

Toyama and Schneider didn’t react to this. I glanced between them. “He asked me I knew Chu Zihang and of course, I said ‘Yes.’” My face broke into a smile. “He hugged me. He was so happy. I was too but... as we talked he realized that there was someone else that he loved.”

“Who?”

“Erii Uesugi. He met her in Japan. He loved her. Not me.”

“I see... And...?”

“He’d lost touch with her. He was so upset about it that he drank himself unconscious on the couch and... I went to bed.”

“Was he still upset the next morning?”

I nodded. “He wanted to ask the Principal if he remembered anything about Johann Chu since the principal is S-ranked too. He said he wouldn’t come back until he found Johann. And then he left. I haven’t seen him since.”

“He hasn’t contacted you?” 

I shook my head.

Schneider nodded. “I’m going to have to tell you something upsetting. Anjou was assaulted last night. He was beaten so badly that he fell into a coma. We’re not sure he’ll survive.”

My hand flew to my mouth. “Oh no!”

“What’s more the dragon skeleton of Constantine was stolen from the Ice Cellar. We have evidence that Mingfei Lu is the one who committed these crimes.” The warmth left his eyes.

I gave an incredulous laugh. “Get out of here! No way. That’s impossible. Anjou has Time Zero. Mingfei could never beat him!”

“Would he have reason to?”

“No!” My eyes flicked between them. “He was going to the principal to get help!”

“EVA keeps tight tabs on what happens on Campus. We have evidence that placed him and Anjou together at the time of the assault. EVA has records of his card being used to open the Ice Cellar.”

My voice rose in both volume and pitch. “That doesn’t matter, someone else had to have done it!” 

“EVA is a computer. She can only report on what she directly observes. The evidence is pointing to Mingfei Lu as an undercover agent working for the Dragon Clan.”

“This is insane.  It’s insane. He gave up his whole life for you. Why would he work with dragons?”

“I can only tell you what we have so far and it’s enough to put out a warrant for his arrest or ... his elimination.”

My heart dropped. “How could you do that?”

“Meixiu... you admitted yourself that you believed a dragon was behind your memories of Johann Chu. You were my ace agent and in a single night, you start having this mental break. The only one who supports your delusion...” His voice dropped. “...is the one we believe is working with dragons.”

I raised my hand to my cheek. “No... that’s not ... my memories aren’t ...”

“He’s taking advantage of the fact that you are his wife to hide his activities.”

“No...”

“He planted these memories so that he could both hide himself and protect you and his daughter.”

“Ru’yi is not...!” Tears filled my eyes.

“He’s not going to look for Johann Chu. He’s made his move. He left with the skeleton and near killed the principal.”

I began to sob. “No, that’s wrong!”

“I need you to tell me where he’s gone.”

“I don’t know where he’s gone! I don’t know how you can say all these horrible things!” I sniffed. “He gave his life to you. He devoted his whole life to dragonslaying...”

“He’s not the first agent of dragons that’s made their way onto Campus... You know that. I’m just sorry he targeted you.”

I just shook my head. It was wrong. It was all wrong! Johann was real. Mingfei told me he was. I lowered my hand from my face and stared at my baby. He wasn’t lying.

Was he?

My mind was reeling. I could feel Schneider’s eyes on me. A memory surfaced of Mingfei telling me about how some of his friends had ended up being dragons and he’d been forced to kill them. But he did kill them. He didn’t side with them.

“We’re past the point of denial. I wouldn’t have brought you here if I didn’t know it were true.”

“I can’t believe it. I can’t believe it... I can’t...”

“Why not? Give me a reason! One piece of evidence! An alibi... anything!” His eyes bored into mine.

My eyes lowered to my daughter. “This isn’t his child. It’s Johann’s.”

Schneider took a deep breath. “How does that prove he’s not working with the dragons?”

"It proves that he’s telling the truth! That I’m telling the truth! That we’re not crazy!”

“We no longer believe you have a mental illness.” Toyama interrupted. “We believe that you’ve been under the influence of a a powerful Soul Skill this whole time. Just as you’ve been saying... You... care for Mingfei clearly... right?”

I nodded. 

“So... all this is very hard to accept. You would never deliberately work with dragons. And maybe Mingfei wouldn’t either. It’s possible that he’s under the same Soul Skill as you.”

Schneider nodded. “However, if that’s the case, we can’t help him until we find him and question him. We need your help to do that. If you don’t cooperate... whatever has caused all this to happen could harm him, you, or even your baby."

“You’re not the type of person who would let that happen. Are you?”

I shook my head, lightly stroking my baby’s hair and looking at her sleeping face.

“The evidence is pointing to Mingfei. We know he was with the principal, we know he was in the Ice Cellar. You don’t want to work with dragons so... I need you to tell us where Mingfei is, or where he might be. And I need you to do as we ask.”

“I don’t know.” I said, slowly and clearly.

The room was silent for a little while and then Schneider pressed a few buttons on his console. “Alright. We’ll keep you under house arrest for now. All your communications will be continually monitored. You’ll be kept under guard for the time being. No visitors.”

[jessicajonesrp]

Visit with Trish

It had been a few weeks since Jessica saw her adoptive sister. This was hardly unusual; Jessica had been known to simply drop out of any form of contact with Trish for various lengths of time, either because she couldn’t or simply didn’t want to bother with talking to or seeing her. She loved her sister, far more than she could or was comfortable putting words to, but the woman could be damn difficult to be around sometimes.

 It wasn’t because she was prissy or bougie, although she could be both of those; Jessica was used to her more irritating mannerisms, and could either mock them or shrug them off as being unavoidable when genetically related to Dorothy Walker. It wasn’t even because she was always not so subtly prodding at Jessica to make “better choices” in her life, meaning to drink less, eat and sleep more, and do something for mental health other than punching people and avoiding all efforts at expressing actual emotion. No, the reason Jessica usually chose to avoid Trish, when she went through her spells of doing so, was because the woman knew her well enough that she could usually figure out when something was going on in Jessica’s life that Jessica didn’t want to tell her about. And once she was on the trail, for someone who wasn’t actually a private eye herself, she was pretty damn good at getting to the truth.

 But Jessica found herself thinking of Trish after her latest “meet” with Luke- she wouldn’t call their interactions dates, not yet, not even in her own thoughts. Maybe because she had spent some time talking about Trish to Luke, or maybe simply because Trish was the only person Jessica had spent any degree of time with back in their teen years that Jessica still had active contact with or cared to know. And back then, during the period of time where most teenaged girls did spent the majority of their time gushing to their friends about boys and crushes and sexual exploits, Jessica had not had friends, let alone boyfriends or crushes. She had been too busy grieving her dead family, reeling from her new life as the adopted kid of a pop star’s stage mom, and trying to protect Trish from physical abuse from said mother and sexual abuse from far too many older men in the movie business to have any energy or inclination left to gossip about some acne-ridden adolescent at their school.

 She was 31 years old now, a ridiculous age to even think of words like crush or boyfriend. The most she ever talked about with Trish was whether or not she’d had sex with someone recently, and Trish was usually too skeeved out by that to want many details. But although Jessica told herself that she in no way wanted or intended to talk about Luke and whatever was going on between them with her sister, she nevertheless found herself feeling an urge to visit her.

 That didn’t mean anything, right? It had absolutely nothing to do with Luke. Jessica was allowed to have a spontaneous visit with her best friend/sister.

 She waited until she had wound down her research on her latest case for the day and had enough drinks to feel comfortable before heading to Trish’s apartment on the subway. It was beginning to be evening, but Trish had a daily routine most of the time that was fairly unvarying. Normally at this time of the day she was finished with work and would be home, working out in her private gym. Jessica was not one to give her warning about her approach with texts or calls. Instead, like usual, she simply jumped up onto Trish’s balcony and banged on the door until she came to let her in.

 As Jessica would have predicted, Trish was dressed in perfectly coordinated workout clothes, light blue leggings and a sports bra, her blonde hair back in a smooth ponytail. She looked Jessica up and down carefully, plucked eyebrow raised, and didn’t immediately move away from the sliding glass door.

 “I’ll bite, what’s wrong?”

 “What do you mean, what’s wrong?” Jessica threw the question back at her, shrugging. “Do I look like I’m bleeding or gasping for breath or something? ‘Cause if I am, your bedside manner sucks.”

 “Well, generally when you show up like this, after ignoring my texts for a while, something’s wrong,” Trish informed her, her tone calm, even pleasant, rather than rising to Jessica’s mild jab. “Like someone is stalking you, someone rose from the dead, someone is dead, you’re close to death after an attempted murder, something to do with death or attempted death. Or else you’re so drunk you can’t remember how to get to your own place.”

 “Well, maybe I’m shaking up the routine,” Jessica muttered. “Can’t be as predictable as you, Yoga Barbie.”

 She held her arms out as though to present herself to Trish for her inspection. “Not dead, not dying, not any more drunk than usual. You gonna let me in, or do I have to be in an actual crisis to decide to visit, “Patsy”?”

 Trish tried to scowl at her, but Jessica saw that she was fighting a smile. They both knew Jessica never called her by her very much hated former nickname unless she was mocking her or trying especially hard to piss her off. “I still say something’s up. But sure, come on in.”

 She stepped back to give Jessica room to come inside, shutting the door behind her and locking it back. Jessica made her way into Trish’s kitchen and helped herself to opening the fridge, making a face when she saw that all of Trish’s drinks were diet, had impossible to say ingredients, or water. She dug until she found a normal Coke miraculously pushed to the back and took it back with her to the couch, popping the tab. Feeling Trish staring at her, she looked back, raising her eyebrows.

 “What?”

 “There’s whiskey and bourbon in the cabinet, like usual,” Trish informed her. “You know I keep it for you, just in case.”

 “Yeah, I might get to that in a little bit,” Jessica shrugged. “I’m good for right now.”

 Trish’s eyes about bugged out of her head as Jessica took another swig of the soda. She rushed over to sit beside her, deliberately knocking her knee into Jessica’s.

 “Okay, now I know something is up. Jessica Campbell Jones just knowingly, deliberately chose a Coke, knowing alcoholic beverages were available. What the hell is going on, Jessica? What happened?!”

 “Chill out, stop being so dramatic,” Jessica rolled her eyes, but Trish noted that she wasn’t looking at her straight on. “Nothing’s going on, nothing’s happening, can’t a woman change things up once in a while without you pulling amateur PI moves to figure out why?”

 “Are you trying to quit drinking?” Trish pressed, not bothering to acknowledge her denial. “Because good for you if you are, you know I’d support that all the way, Jess, but something must have pushed you over into that decision.”

 “I said I’d ransack your supplies later, does that sound like I’m quitting drinking?” Jessica pointed out. “Jesus, stop already, you’re gonna make me regret deciding to see you when I could have visited a bar.”

 “Are you trying to lose weight?” Trish tried next. “Because if you are, switching from alcohol to full fat soda isn’t any difference in calories, actually it’s got far more fat and sugar, so that would be pretty inefficient-“

 Jessica set her can down and stared at Trish, narrowing her eyes.

 “Seriously, that’s your advice on me hypothetically trying to lose weight? What, no protests about whether or not I need to, or the psychological reasons behind my desire to, just straight to calories and fat grams? Tell Dorothy to get out of your mouth or I’m leaving.”

 “What? Oh, sorry, it’s- it’s kind of automatic,” Trish said apologetically, leaning back onto the couch with a sigh. “That’s not even my soda, it’s left from Simpson, so you know how long that’s been in there-“

 “I was wondering if you had a secret sugar stash you’ve been hiding, Patsy’s dirty little secret,” Jessica smirked.

 Trish ignored her, continuing as though she didn’t hear. “I don’t think you need to diet, Jess, of course I don’t. Look at you, you’re skinnier than I am, you know I’m always telling you that you need to eat your calories in food more than alcohol at least some days of the week.”

 She furrowed her brow, still clearly trying to figure the other woman out.

 “So if you’re not trying to quit drinking, and you’re not counting calories, what is it? You don’t look hungover, and that normally wouldn’t stop you. What, did you meet a guy or something?”

 She said this with a chuckle, dismissing it even as she said it, but when Jessica took another long gulp of her drink, studiously avoiding Trish’s eyes, Trish sat up straighter, her expression sharpening.

 “Wait, did you?”

 “How much vodka do you have for me, again?” Jessica deflected, starting to stand, but Trish gave an excited near squeal and seized Jessica’s hand, pulling her to sit back down.

 “You did, didn’t you! Jessica, why didn’t you say something?”

 “Probably because I knew you’d do this,” Jessica muttered, exhaling. “Can I have my hand back now?”

 “No,” Trish said decisively, giving it a squeeze. “I need details, now. Where did you meet this guy? How long ago? What’s he look like? Have you been on a date yet?”

 “We fucked, does that count?”

 “Oh Jessica, come on!” Trish groaned, giving her hand a little tug before letting it go. She shifted to face her more fully, her blue eyes alight with her interest and what Jessica thought of as far too excessive enthusiasm. “You’re not going to throw me off of this by being you. What really happened?”

 “We did,” Jessica insisted, deliberately keeping her tone casual and flicking the tab of her soda repeatedly, in effort to annoy Trish with the sound. “First night we met, too. You said you want details, you want to hear about positions, or just penis length?”

 “Jessica,” Trish sighed, shaking her head. “You’re not going to distract me. Or gross me out.”

 “Oh good, then I can tell you everything. First he took his shirt off, then I tore his zipper down with my teeth-“

 “It’s more than that to you,” Trish cut her off, speaking over top her continued efforts to disgust. “It wasn’t just sex. I can tell that just by looking at you. You actually like him. This actually means something to you, doesn’t it? You actually feel something for him, Jess.”

 “Well, yeah, I felt plenty with his dick in me-“

 “Jessica,” Trish said quietly, placing both hands on the other woman’s shoulders with a firm pressure and looking at her directly enough that Jessica stopped, uncomfortable against her intensity. “Stop. You do care about this guy. I can see it. I could see something different about you the second you walked in tonight.”

 Under the weight of Trish’s hands and the serious way she watched her, Jessica exhaled, squirming uncomfortably. Even if she continued to deflect, it wasn’t going to stop Trish, and to continue to deny was dishonest and felt wrong.

 “His name is Luke,” she muttered, looking towards Trish’s ear rather than into her eyes. “Luke Cage. He runs a nightclub in Harlem. But I barely know him, Trish. He barely knows me. So don’t hold your breath or anything.”

 “But you like what you do know,” Trish pressed, squeezing Jessica’s shoulder lightly. “And so does he.”

 “Trish, this is me we’re talking about here,” Jessica snorted, attempting to duck out from under her hands. “Don’t start designing wedding invites. I’m sure I’ll do the me thing and fuck everything up within the next week, so don’t be too excited for me.”

 Although her tone was light, Trish reacted with emphatic dismay at her words. Hanging onto Jessica, not letting her shrug out of her grasp so easily, she gave her a little shake, looking at her with far too much earnest, wide-eyed feeling for Jessica’s comfort.

 “Don’t do that, Jessica. Don’t write yourself off or put yourself down. You do deserve this. You deserve to be cared for, and desired by someone who sees you as special and unique and wonderful even in the ways you can’t see for yourself.”

 “Sounds like you’re giving yourself a pep talk, not me,” Jessica shot back at her, again shrugging off her hands. “Or else maybe you’re secretly into me yourself.”

 But for once, Trish didn’t rise to the verbal bait. Letting Jessica pull her shoulders back and instead resting a hand on her knee, she continued to look at her steadily and seriously.

 “Jess…just don’t tell yourself that you aren’t worth it. Give yourself a real chance here. Please.”

 Jessica shifted, even more uncomfortable, and let out a loud exhalation, rolling her eyes again. Even so, she gave Trish’s hand a quick, awkward pat before standing.

 “Whatever, if my love life is that important to you, you obviously need to get out more yourself. But just for you, maybe I’ll consider it. Now I definitely need some booze.”

 Making her way towards the cabinets Trish always kept her drinks in, she called over her shoulder, “What kind of ridiculous kung fu panda shit you call self-defense have you been learning lately? Or are you too busy learning to make those so called health drinks that look like dirty water mixed with seaweed?”

 She was glad when Trish finally let her change the subject, educating her on far more on either subject than Jessica wanted to hear about. As she settled down on the couch again with several bottles set before her, she tried not to think about what Trish had said to her, and how very similar her views were to Luke’s. It was far easier to try for low expectations and cynicism; after all, wasn’t that how she’s lived her life so far?

  **

 Trish Walker was usually pretty good at easing information out of people that she wanted to know.

 She was a talk show host, after all; it was part of her job to set people at ease, to get them on the topic she wanted them on and to keep them there, with as many juicy details put forth as possible. But Jessica Jones was not like most of her subjects, and even seventeen years after them becoming family of sorts, she didn’t have any better techniques of getting things out of her when Jessica wanted them kept in.

 And Trish’s curiosity, when it came to Jessica’s new love interest, was driving her mad. Jessica was not the sort of person who was ever really interested in anyone, at least not beyond a roll in bed for a night or two. Certainly not since the trauma of Kilgrave and everything he had put her through and the choices he had forced her to make. Even as teenagers, Jessica hadn’t been the romantically inclined type. The last Trish could remember her really being into someone had been back in their early twenties, when Stirling had still been alive- and that was nearly ten years ago. She had almost started to think Jessica truly wanted to go through her life more or less alone.

 But as much as Jessica tried to downplay it and shut down any details, Trish could see the difference in her with this guy. She was less reclusive, for one thing, and less sharp in her words and expressions. Hell, she was even drinking less, and that was something like a miracle.

 But Jessica didn’t want to talk about him much, or really at all, and when Trish suggested meeting him, she about took her head off. So that left Trish with only one option, the way she saw it. It could be fifteen years before Jessica decided it was time for her guy to meet her, and by then she might very well decide to cut him loose in some misguided effort of “saving him from herself”. If Trish wanted to meet this Luke Cage, she was just going to have to meet him for herself.

 It wasn’t very hard for her to find the name of his club with a simple Facebook and google search, given that she already knew his name and its location. The first night she had the time, she “casually” checked in with Jessica that she was working- it wouldn’t do to run into her and Luke together at the club- and then made her way with her personal driver to Harlem, putting off the confused and suspicious looks he gave her for wanting him to take her to a city and a club that was normally very far from one she would frequent. She quickly found that she was very much a stand out in its environment, given her pale skin, blonde hair, and the shimmery blue but not exactly club-hopping dress she was wearing. Somewhat disconcerted, but determined, she made her way to the bar and flashed a bright smile to the bartender, taking a seat.

 “Hi, I’m looking for the owner, Luke Cage? Is he here tonight?”

[violetsmoak]

Pieces of April [5/?]

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21099044/chapters/50202530

Summary: On the anniversary of his death, Jason’s second life takes an abrupt new turn and he’s faced with a challenge that neither Batman nor the All-Caste prepared him for.

Rating: PG-13 (rating may change later)

Warning(s): Past Jason/Isabel, kidfic, minor canon character death (pretty sure you can guess who, not either of our boys!), I’ll add more warnings/tags as I think of them.

Canon-Compliance: Takes place in between the two RHATO series, so after Roy and Kori and before Artemis and Bizarro.

Author’s Note: And now, for a change in POV!

First Chapter

________________________________________________________________

Of course, right after Jason leaves, the baby wakes up.

And starts to wail.

Tim freezes, all of his reflexes seemingly dissolved by the unyielding sound that such a tiny creature should not be able to produce.

Whatever Jason said about him being calm, in actuality, he’s completely freaked out over this whole baby thing.

Over the whole Jason’s baby thing.

This whole situation is just not in his area of expertise, nor does it require any of his previous training. And he can’t really see a situation where, on the infinitesimal chance Jason decides to give up vigilantism and become a stay-at-home-dad, he’d ever ask Tim of all people to babysit.

But then, right now, Jason’s not here.

The nurse from earlier returns, offering him a sympathetic look.

“It’s about time for her next feeding,” she tells him. “Do you want us to take her, or would you like to do it?”

Take her, please, Tim wants to say but bites his tongue.

He wasn’t talking out of his ass when he acknowledged that babies needed to be held. Human contact is good (even if that wasn’t basic medical knowledge, his own semi-neglected childhood can attest to that) and he all but volunteered himself for this to help Jason. He should at least do what he can.

Holding down the fort apparently includes holding down the baby…

“If you could just show me…?” he suggests, a sheepish smile pasted on and hopefully hiding his inner unease.

As expected, the woman’s expression turns into a mixture of amused and charmed. She chatters, motioning for him to take the chair Jason was sitting in before; Tim sits and lets her arrange the baby in his arms, showing him a light, gentle rocking motion to try to calm her.

“I’ll be right back with her formula,” the nurse says, though Tim barely hears her over the furious wailing.

He squints down at the scrunched-up face, trying to figure out how he ended up in this situation. Also, what exactly possessed him to call Jason his partner?

Because it’s the first believable thing to come to mind that didn’t involve spontaneous resurrections?

And technically, it’s even true. Sometimes.

And he was worried about Jason.

They may not be brothers, but they are family, and with that comes a certain awareness of each other. He knew the minute he saw Jason outside the dive bar that he was freaked out. He decided he would help him then, and he’s not about to back out now even if things have become way more complicated than anticipated.  

The nurse returns with the bottle of formula, and as soon as she’s explained how to properly position and feed the baby—apparently there’s more to it than just sticking a synthetic nipple in her mouth and waiting for her to chug—and prevent gas, she vanishes again.

To allow them “bonding” time.

Not what I thought I’d be doing when I got up this morning…

Tim’s done the baby thing before—sort of. But Steph’s daughter was bigger when she was born. Jason’s is tiny, and Tim is half expecting her to break into pieces before his eyes. Whatever manufactured confidence he had before, had been in the moment—and mostly for Jason’s benefit.

It had been imperative to get the infant out of the other man’s arms while he was clearly on the verge of a panic attack. Especially since no one ever knows how a cornered Jason Todd might react.

Not that I think he’d ever hurt an infant, but he doesn’t exactly process shock the way normal people do. It never hurts to have contingencies.

As he watches the baby guzzle her formula with surprising gusto, Tim finds himself going over a mental list of things that have to be dealt with if they’re going to get through life’s latest curveball more or less intact.

Paperwork for the baby. Arrangements for the mother’s body.

Isabel Ardila.

He knows her name only from the files as the woman Jason was seeing prior to the Joker’s last assault on the bats. She was caught in the crossfire, forcibly dosed with heroin to play on Jason’s past traumas, and following her recovery, ended things with Jason.

Or Jason ended things with her, Tim’s not sure. He never asked and he doesn’t intend to.

However it ended, clearly there was enough estrangement that she didn’t bother to tell Jason he was a father. It’s a decision he can, unfortunately, imagine the reasons for, even if he’s not sure he agrees with them.

Not like we can do anything about that decision now, though.

The baby slowly goes limp in his arms, and Tim has a brief moment of irrational, paranoid panic—has she been drugged?—before realizing she’s just fallen back asleep.

“Right. Because that’s a normal thing that babies do,” he murmurs to himself, and carefully maneuvers himself over to her crib to put her down on her stomach, like he’s seen in countless television commercials.

Then, uncertain, he pulls his phone out of his pocket and does a quick internet search, balking at the sheer amount of SIDS related articles, and scoops her up again to reposition her on her back.

Should probably tell Jason about that when he gets back…

Assuming Jason comes back.

Or even wants his help.

Which, Tim decides, he’ll offer anyway. Though that may mean playing to his strengths more than anything, preparing for every eventuality and having a series of back-up plans.

He highly doubts Jason’s thinking of any of that right now.

Phone in hand Tim begins typing quickly, pulling up tabs in his search engines for whatever concern pops into his head as he reads.

He suspects Jason is too uneasy about the whole situation to want to keep the baby, so Tim’s going to have to research adoption agencies through official and unofficial channels.

Open or closed, not sure what option he’d go with.

And then, there’s always the small chance he will keep his child. It’s a possibility that seems as likely as Bruce’s sudden predilection for joining the Russian ballet, but stranger things have happened in the family.

He skims through several forums and advice blogs for how to care for a newborn, makes a list of important supplies they might need in the immediate future and forwards it to Tam.

It’s several minutes later that his phone chimes, notifying him of her list of replies.

- Why the hell did you send me a list with diapers?

- Is this for a baby?

- Omg, did you kidnap a baby?

- Is that a thing that happens?

-First ninjas, now baby-napping?

Tim sighs and rolls his eyes. Normally he’d find her bemused and slightly-panicked responses a little amusing, but he doesn’t have the energy to go into details, even if Jason hadn’t sworn him to secrecy.

-A friend of mine has an emergency. Drop everything off at my apartment, please.

There’s a beat, another chime, but Tim doesn’t get a chance to read the message as his screen suddenly switches. The air is filled with a generic ringtone that Tim hastily mutes, eyes flicking to the baby and back to his screen. The number flashes ‘Unknown’, but Tim recognizes the number from earlier that day.

He stands, wanders away from the crib to answer quietly. “What is it, Harper?”

“Jay called me,” the older man says without preamble. “Told me everything. About the kid, about Isabel.”

“Yeah,” Tim agrees quietly. “I’d say shock is an understatement.”

“No shit.” He sighs. “Listen, I talked him down as much as I could, but the rest is on you.”

“What? Why?”

“He says you’ve been helping him.”

“For now, until someone more qualified comes along,” Tim retorts, implication heavy in his voice.

Roy catches it because he lets out a bitter laugh. “Sorry to burst your bubble, bird boy, but that ain’t gonna be me.”

“What are you talking about? You’ve been in literally the same situation.”

“And I can’t right now. So I need you to be there for him.”

“He needs his friend,” Tim argues. “And he’s made very clear I’m not one of those.”

“Then you'd better become one fast, because I can’t.”

“Why the—” Tim’s eyes flick to the infant, and he can’t help giving in to the impulse to censor himself, lowering his voice, “—heck not?”

“Because I’m in a bad place right now,” Roy snaps. “I’m not in a good way for being around a kid, okay? I…” He pauses, like he’s weighing something, and then exhales. “I…fell off the wagon again.”

Tim's stomach sinks. 

“Roy…”

“Don’t tell Jaybird,” Roy orders. “I just…I need to sort myself out before I can be any kind of help for him. I show up there now, I’ll just add to his problems.”

“But—”

“This is you being tagged in, okay? Don’t fuck it up.”

There’s a harsh click in Tim’s ear, leaving him listening incomprehensively to the dial tone for several seconds.

“Are you…are you kidding me?!” he hisses after a moment, only just refraining from throwing his phone across the room in frustration.

He didn’t realize before Roy’s call just how much he was counting on someone else to step in and take over in the emotional support department.

I’m not cut out for this. This sort of thing…it should be Dick. Or Alfred.

He spends the next hour once again reviewing what he did to get roped into all this.

When Jason comes back—and something inside Tim unknots in relief that he did come back—he’s as ashen-faced as before. This time, though, there’s a determined set to his shoulders.

They stand and stare at each other in silence for a good five minutes before Tim realizes Jason’s waiting for him to speak first.

Right. Tagged in. Let’s do this. Ease into it.

“So, what are you going to do?”

Tim winces.

Yeah, that wasn’t exactly subtle.

Jason doesn’t seem to notice the awkward, though.

“No idea,” he replies heavily, leaning against the doorjamb and letting his head thunk lightly against it.

“Social Services is obviously an option.”

“No way in hell,” Jason snaps, straightening up and looking fierce. “I don’t trust them. And you can’t tell me with all the Wayne resources you’ve got access to, we can’t find something better.”

Tim expected that. He might not have had the exact same harrowing experiences with foster care as Jason did, but his very brief stint left him with a hint of that same disillusion with the system.

It’s not something I’d wish on any kid, least of all Jason’s.

“We can look into it. Organize the best possible adoption scenario without dealing with Social Services. There are actually a lot of couples in the community who would be willing to adopt.”

“No. This kid isn’t growing up anywhere near capes or masks or stuff like that.”

Okay, that’s understandable. It also makes it less likely he intends to keep her.

“Whatever we do, it will take some time,” Tim cautions. “Placing a child with a family isn’t going to be as easy as sticking someone in Witness Protection.”

Jason snorts and shakes his head. “Only you would think that’s easy.”

“So, now that that’s figured out—what are you going to do once the tests are finished?” Tim asks, focussing on the practical. “I don’t find a family within the next day or so, you’re going to need to bring her somewhere. Assuming you’re adamant about keeping the rest of the Family out of this?” That receives only narrowed eyes in response. “Stupid question, sorry. But she’s going to have to stay somewhere until then. I wouldn’t recommend leaving her here at the hospital, for a number of reasons.”

Jasons frowns, thoughtful. Then,

“I’ll keep her for now,” he decides with a heaviness that Tim suspects is caused more by fear than dislike of children. “Until we find a better place for her. Some family that won’t mind doing this in private.”

“Okay,” Tim nods. “On that note—where exactly will you take her?”

Jason falters, looking like he’s not entirely sure what to say to that.

“I…my safehouses aren’t exactly babyproofed.”

“I don’t think that’s an issue until they start crawling,” Tim replies, trying for humor but the very idea sparks another flash of panic in Jason’s eyes. He’s looking at Tim now with something dangerously close to expectance, and a realization hits Tim.

He doesn’t want to be alone with this.

And it’s the fact he’s never seen Jason look so vulnerable that sparks a truly terrible idea.

I’m so going to regret this.

“I have a spare bedroom,” he offers, earning a sharp glance from Jason. “Just until you wrap your head around this and figure out the next move.”

He half expects Jason to scoff, or laugh in his face or say something insulting.

It’s decidedly worrying when the only thing that happens is Jason’s shoulders slump and he nods.

Jason’s shoulders slump, and he nods.

“Yeah. Yeah, that would be…good. Thanks, Drake.” He pauses, considering something, and then adds, “Tim.”

Next Chapter

________________________________________________________________

Your feedback matters! I want to know what you think of my story, so feel free to leave kudos, a comment or as many of these emojis as you want and let me know how you feel!

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[quarterfromcanon]

You and Me, Always Between the Lines

Heather & Valencia - Femslash February - Day 18 - Right and Wrong [1,828 words]

Valencia opened a new message but hesitated over the keyboard. She chewed on her lower lip while she began to type.

Hey, girlfriend.

Highlight text. Delete.

Hey, girl.

Nine backspaces.

Hola, chica.

Valencia sighed and closed her eyes. She exited the app and returned to the home screen only to reopen messages immediately.

So, today’s the day. I’ve decided. I’m going Facebook official. 

Her thumb tapped send. She gripped the case with white knuckles. Within a minute, a reply appeared.

Whoa. Big step. How’re you feeling?

Good but also freaked out. I’m overthinking.

Have you talked to Beth about it? Is she with you?

Not right now. Multiple meetings until like seven o’clock tonight. She’s been sending me supportive texts in between.

Maybe you could postpone until she gets back?

I thought about it, but the time of day is kind of important to me. It’s a whole thing to try to explain here. I don’t know. This is probably silly. I’m just not sure if I can wait that much longer by myself.

A pause.

Do you want company?

She gulped past the sudden lump in her throat and gave the honest answer.

Sort of. I don’t want to ask for too much, though. I feel guilty. You’ve had to help me so many times as it is.

Valencia wiped a fingertip across her cheekbones. She watched three dots fade in and out of existence.

You’re my best friend. Best friends are supposed to come through when you need them.

The breath she’d been holding left her in a rush. Fresh tears spilled down her face.

I’ve been trying with all I’ve got to keep it together, but I guess reality’s hitting me pretty hard right now. If you’re positive you don’t mind... I do need you.

What time?

12:30, if you can make it?

I’ll be there.

___

“The door’s open!” Valencia responded to the familiar knock.

Heather turned the handle and poked her head into view. “Hey.”

“Hi,” Valencia greeted in a tremulous exhale. Her entire body was tense. The rims of her eyes were a vivid pink from crying. She flipped the phone between both palms on autopilot, faster with each passing second.

Heather entered the apartment and crossed the room. She held Valencia’s hands in hers until her friend relaxed. “How long have you been sitting here?”

“Since eight, if you don’t count the floor pacing and bathroom breaks, so... four-and-a-half hours?” 

Heather settled on the couch beside Valencia. She waited a moment to consider her advice before she voiced it aloud.

“V, listen, it’s like we toasted on your balcony that time, y’know? You make your own rules now. Whatever pressure you feel... This thing people have about online transparency...” Heather shook her head. She took a deep breath and met Valencia’s gaze. “It’s no one else’s call but yours.” 

Valencia nodded, although the worry did not fully leave her features. Heather searched for the right way to articulate what she wanted Valencia to understand.

“If this is part of what you need to feel comfortable in your skin, it’s cool. If you don’t want everyone on your friend list to know your business, that’s okay, too. You’ve already had so many super intimidating conversations. Your sisters, your dad, your mom -- oh my god, your mom -- like, that alone is such a huge deal. You got through all that in less than a year. You’re really brave.”

Valencia smiled feebly, but then sobs overtook her. Heather spotted a box of tissues. She got up to pull a few free and brought them back. 

“Thank you.” Valencia blotted her cheeks with the Kleenex. “I know I’m making myself sound like a damn liar, but I really do want to do this today.”

“I get it.” Heather shrugged. “People don’t make this easy. Even with ones who seem like they’ll be chill, you don’t actually know until you tell them. There’s always a moment of uncertainty. Also this many people at once? That’s a lot of variables.”

“Yeah.” Valencia pocketed the crumpled tissues.

“So what’s the ‘whole thing’ about the time?”

Valencia rested her chin on a throw pillow. “1 p.m. to 4 p.m. is the prime posting time for Facebook.” She grimaced and searched the reaction that flickered across Heather’s face. “It’s not to maximize likes or get more attention, I swear. It’s just that --”

“You’re doing the Band-Aid approach,” Heather realized. “Quick as possible, all at once. If you post during hours with less dashboard traffic, that means even more waiting for stragglers who might have something to say. You’ll keep checking for notifications over and over. Doing this now means dealing with most of it in one cluster.”

“Exactly.” Valencia noticed the clock at the corner of her open laptop. “Oh God. It’s five ’til one.”

She restored the minimized tab to confront the rectangular button on the page. 

“Already set up,” she said, more to herself than to Heather. “Just a command away.”

She hovered the mouse over it, slid the cursor aside, and returned to the spot -- back and forth ad nauseam while Heather waited patiently beside her. Valencia withdrew her fingers from the touchpad like it scalded her. She rubbed the knees of her leggings and shook her head. “I can’t do it. I can’t press it. Here, you click it.” 

She tried to push the laptop to Heather, but Heather slid it back to her.

“It’s gotta be you,” Heather insisted softly.

Valencia tapped once and then flopped sideways to hide behind Heather. “I did it,” she acknowledged in disbelief. “It’s out there for everyone.”

Valencia Perez is in a relationship with Elizabeth Brighton.

“Yep.” Heather twisted her arm to pat Valencia’s shoulder. “You stuck to your plan.”

Valencia clamped her eyelids shut. “Now comes the more difficult part: the wait for the first response.” She texted Beth with trembling fingers to tell her that the news was publicly shared. Then Valencia sat up, but she still couldn’t bring herself to peek at the top blue bar. “Is there a bubble with a number?” she asked while inspecting the ceiling. “Did someone say something?”

Heather looked up from her own cell phone. “Oh, hey, you’ve got one.”

Valencia verified the statement in a split-second. Her complexion went ashen. She touched the single digit with the cursor and gave the inbox a moment to load.

Heather Davis (1)

“You sent me a message?” 

Heather could see Valencia in her periphery, turned toward her. She continued to sift through sites without actually reading anything and did not raise her head. “Yeah.”

“What does it say?”

Heather couldn’t suppress a faint laugh. “If I tell it to you out loud, that kinda defeats the purpose.”

Valencia returned her focus to the laptop. Heather glanced at Valencia’s face but then flicked to the screen instead.

I usually save this for major breakthroughs because it already sounds mushy and fake, and I don’t want it to lose all meaning, but today’s a milestone for you so it totally counts. I’m really proud of you, Valencia. I know everything about coming out has been so fucking hard, but you kicked ass. Congratulations. Digital high five.

Valencia scrolled up once more so she could scan the entire thing again. Heather decided to examine the plants on the balcony, but then Valencia’s arms were around her. “I don’t deserve you.”

Heather returned the embrace with some reticence. “I’ve gotta agree to disagree on that one.”

Valencia laughed and tightened the hug. Heather’s arms shifted to fully enfold her. A new red update appeared. She relinquished the hold and gestured to the laptop. “The bell’s got a number now, too.”

Valencia picked up the computer. She set it on her lap, clicked the notification, and beamed.

“What is it?” Heather prompted.

“‘Elizabeth Brighton commented on your post,’” Valencia read. “She says, ‘I’m a lucky lady.’”

Heather mirrored Valencia’s pleased expression. It didn’t quite reach her eyes.

___

Later, when Heather was back in her car, a couple of text messages sprang to life on her phone.

ROOMIE

Valencia’s dating a woman? HER VERY FIRST WOMAN? Since when??? 

ROOMIE

I’ve never even met Beth. Have I met Beth? Have you?

Heather sighed and retreated behind her eyelids. She folded her arms against the steering wheel to lean on them. 

Incessant buzzing announced more messages.

ROOMIE

Do you think I was, like, her awakening?

ROOMIE

Holy crap. Who knew I had so much untapped bisexual influence? I PROMISE TO ONLY USE MY POWERS FOR GOOD. [wizard emoticon] [rainbow emoticon]

Heather peered at the ramblings without sitting upright. She bumped her forehead against her wrists in annoyance.

ROOMIE

Hey, where are you, by the way? If you’re already out and about, can you buy us some more eggs and coffee grounds? We’re running low. And by “low,” I mean I finished off both this morning. Don’t kill me! xoxo

Heather opened the conversation. She addressed only the most recent question.

I can get them on the way home. See you at the house.

She tossed her phone onto the passenger seat and left Valencia’s parking lot in the direction of the grocery store. While stuck at the first stoplight, Heather’s eyes began to bother her. A dull ache surrounded them. She blinked in an effort to calm it.

By the second intersection, her vision started to blur. “What the hell?” Heather rubbed furiously with the heels of her hands. “I’m trying to drive here.”

Her lungs burned as she rounded the bend.

“Can everything just chill? It’s kinda important for me to be in control of my faculties while I’m steering a three thousand pound vehicle.”

When the market was in sight, she heard an alert vibration.

“Rebecca Bunch, I swear...,” Heather mumbled. She parked and snatched up the cell. The contact name wasn’t ROOMIE this time.

V

Twelve comments, all positive. I can’t believe it. Thank you again for everything.

Heather’s eyesight swam until the letters were beyond recognition. She felt the warm moisture overflow and tumble down her cheek. A similar trail of water traced along her nose.

“Oh my god, stop.” Heather swiped upward with a curved finger and touched the irritated ducts. “What is going on right now? Get back in there.”

It was no use. The more she fought the urge, the more tears emerged to join the first two. Heather puffed out an exhale. She rolled her eyes skyward. “Okay. This is happening.”

She sat miserably still and permitted the unshakable emotion to rise. A faint whimper escaped the back of her throat, but she gulped it into silence. Minutes ticked by on her dashboard. “Ugh, get it together, dude.”

Heather dabbed the evidence away with her sleeves, picked up her phone, and texted back to Valencia.

See? The worst is over. I’m really happy for you.

She meant it.

Truly.

But it was some time before Heather regained her composure.

[tyrwinthyr]

Episode 1, act 1

‘On November 1st it will be ten years since the doors of Arcadia closed on Its sons and daughters.  This exposed us to the world, causing your Mad President to demand a ‘Second Inquisition,’ calling on all other leaders to hunt and kill our people.’

Sheila paused her typing there, leaning back in her chair to consider that last word.  Was ‘people’ the right word to use to describe a race of beings so diverse? Tabbing over to a browser, she looked up the definition.

PEOPLE (noun) 1. Human beings in general or considered collectively.

A heavy thump of fingers sent the cursor back to her letter. It blinked there accusingly, slowly winking in and out of existence. She put her palms against her eyes, rubbing until stars appeared.  A migraine was coming on, the kind that started in the back and violently plowed through anything productive she worked on. She dug her fingers under the base of her horns, right where they began at her temples, then tugged down on the curved parts.  It relieved some pressure; she turned her attention back to the chore of picking the correct noun.

It was always dangerous to compare the Fae to humans, particularly where humans were concerned.  The word ‘Fae’ itself was a catch-all they used to describe anything they didn’t understand these days.  Sheila wasn’t herself technically of the Fae races, but that didn’t prevent satyrs from being lumped in with the rest.  Most of her species, and many of the less magical beings, considered themselves to be ‘Folk.’  That might work… she looked up the definition.

FOLK (noun) 1. People in general.

Sheila sighed at the computer screen, decided that it would all come out in editing, and continued with her letter.

‘It wasn’t until years later that the madman was removed from office, and it was many more before the war waged on us eased.  Even though the war is technically over we are still treated as less than.  Violence is committed against the Fae on a daily basis, but nothing is being done about it.  We’ve been in your world for as long as humans have, living alongside you without incident.  Why does knowing we exist change things so drastically?  We are still the same people you worked next to, lived near, laughed with… I’m asking for your help, Senator, to end the persecution of my…’

Hiking up her skirt slightly while waffling back and forth between ‘community’ and ‘race,’ she leaned down to scratch the fur above her left hoof.  Leaning forward a bit, she also checked to make sure her polish wasn’t scuffed.  A glance cast over her shoulder proved Karen was staring at her leg.  The older woman’s face was caught somewhere between curiosity and distaste, which rapidly became embarrassment when Sheila snapped her skirt down curtly.

While her human coworkers had gotten mostly used to her horns and long ears, they rarely caught glimpses of legs covered in fur. Long skirts in layers of subdued fabrics hid anything too distracting from curious eyes.  It was always better to let them wonder what might be under there than to endure the barely veiled discomfort of a human dealing with strangeness.

With a brief smile on Sheila’s part, Karen was let off the hook.  The rictus curve of her lips relaxed immediately, breaking into a telling smile. It was an over compensating mask stretched nearly to breaking across her face. It was the defensive smile of a human caught being possibly offensive. Well, for the ones that cared about such things.

“Oh,” the woman said, startling herself out of the attempt to make her face look ‘natural,’ “Your father is on line two.”

Sheila nodded her thanks, then tugged down on her horns again, trying to ease the ache between her ears.  After a few deep breaths, and a countdown backwards from seven, she picked up the handset.

“This is Sheila,” she said, mustering up her best professional voice.  Human/Fae relations had taught her a lot about having a ‘business voice,’ but with her father, it rarely lasted long.

“I know who you are,” his voice in return was cool, bland, tearing into his daughter’s attempts to be professional, “and you know better than to keep me waiting. You know I’m busy.”

Sheila cast an accusatory glance at Karen, who was finding anywhere else to look. “I just got off a call,” Sheila lied, knowing full well she probably wouldn’t have picked up any sooner regardless.

“Right.”

After muting the phone to take a deep breath, she bravely asked, “May I know what you are calling for, sir?”

“Your brother will be in Colorado tomorrow.  I will forward you his itinerary, I expect you to offer him full assistance, as well as hospitality, until he departs.”

It wasn’t her brother Simon that she had a problem with. It was her father’s way of demanding things from her that irked her.

“I’m busy tomorrow.  I’m sure he can handle himself for a few hours.”

“You are a Whitehart,” he stated, his voice still cool, though behind it came the power of an unspoken invocation, “So you will do your duty to this family.  I do not have to ask… or must you be reminded?”

“You haven’t actually asked yet,” she retorted, calm torn apart by the ragged edges of family duty, “but no, you don’t have to force me.”

“As long as you do your part, you will continue to receive my financial support…” he continued, but his daughter was no longer listening.  

Instead, she watched her best friend walk towards her, a welcome breath of fresh air named Gaspar.  Skirt swishing, chin held high, he was the very image of the ‘Action Transvestite’ he claimed to be.  Light on the make-up today, true, but the pleated skirt paired with the business top made the Look.  Without a word he sat on the edge of her desk, fingers folded like the noblest of ladies across his lap.

“Did you hear what I said, Sheila?” Her father only raised his voice like that occasionally.  Mostly, her mother had once explained, at his only daughter.

“Yes, Father,” she responded, rolling her eyes at Gaspar. He clucked sympathetically, most of his attention on staring down Karen.  Oil and water didn’t work as a good comparison for the two nearly as well as ice and a hot frying pan did.

“Good.  Since I have no further business for you, I’ll let you get back to your…” he paused, perhaps to allow his contempt to gather in the final word, “Work.” Sheila’s face reddened, lips pressing together tightly.

“Love you, Father,” she said coolly, savoring the silence the words created before he disconnected.  Her lips had gone numb in the process, and an exhalation from Gaspar made her smile softly.

“Oh. My. God. Sheila!” he said, eyes wide, knowing what the words meant to her family, “You know, someday you’re going to mean it when you say it… THEN what will happen, hmm?”

“He’s in no danger of that happening, trust me,” came the reply, her handset slapping back into place as a punctuation.

“Savage!  Girl, I just can’t even with you today,” Gaspar’s eyes reflected the delight he felt.  He loved a good scandal.  Pulling his sleeve up, he exposed a new watch to his redheaded friend.  She knew he collected watches, so offered him a smile of approval.

“Oh, you got it!” she said, pulling it closer to admire the Invicta he was sporting.  He’d been watching the price on this particular toy for a while.  The only thing he loved more than clothes, watches and make-up was a bargain.  He’d lectured many times that paying full price for something was admitting defeat.

“No,” he scoffed, then corrected, “Well, yes, I did, but what I’m showing you, silly goat, is the time.”  He was the only person in the world she allowed to call her anything related to her ‘animal’ bits… he had earned the right, “It’s time for you to shed your Mormon clothes!  It’s time for bailando!”  He slid off the desk, extending a hand towards Sheila like they were about salsa right there in the cubicles.

A soft cough from Karen brought both of their gazes to her. Once again, the satyr wondered if there were any baby Karens, or if they just materialized fully grown one day asking the boss about overtime.  She was studiously ignoring them, but a pile of folders had conveniently gotten closer to the edge of her desk.

Gaspar took up the gauntlet, “Oh, hey, you can come with, boo!” When she looked up, he was right next to her desk grinning mischievously, holding out his hand.  Without a word, Karen stood up to march into the breakroom.  

Quickly, Sheila saved her work before following her friend out the door.

 The air was crisp, but not too cold, as autumn should be. Pumpkin spice had invaded everything, edible or not, and you couldn’t toss a black cat without hitting a Halloween store. It was Sheila’s favorite time of the year.  Even though he griped about the chill, Gaspar let her roll her window down so she could savor it.

“Did you dress up when you were a kid?” Gaspar asked, pointing the car in the general direction of her apartment with his usual disdain for road etiquette.  He casually flicked his middle finger at someone honking at him, not even bothering to look in their direction.

“For Halloween?” she clarified, easing her grip on the oh-shit handle above the window, but leaving her hoof braced against his dashboard just in case.  “Yeah, we all did.  Samhain is a middle place, so people could see us.  We could be ourselves without fear.”  Her flamboyant friend had learned the previous year about what the Folk called the ‘twixt,’ which were things and times between.  That was when the Fae had the most power.

“Oh, that would have been lovely,” he sighed, hand flat on his chest, looking at her wistfully. “A boy in a dress was never allowed. ‘Oh, no, Gaspy, you can’t be Joan of Arc! Why can’t you just be a regular knight?’”

Sheila chortled softly, “You sound nothing like her,” she teased.

“Thank god.  I’d have to rip out my own vocal cords if I ever developed her eardrum-piercing cawing.”  The way he deadpanned his threat evoked a laugh from the satyr, though she quickly stifled the sound.  Gaspar sighed. “You know, holding all that in is going to kill you.”

“My therapist says my stress levels are manageable,” she quipped back defensively.  They both know she didn’t have a therapist.  They encouraged openness, feelings… dangerous things for a Whitehart.

“You know what I mean, silly goat,” he said, watching her face while simultaneously causing three different cars to blare their horns at him.  She did indeed, so fell silent until they pulled up in front of her apartment.

Years ago, fire had torn apart the area of Colorado Springs called ‘Mountain Shadow.’  It was the tip of the burn scar on the side of the mountain, and even a decade and a half later it was still healing.  Like the saplings that had pushed their way through the ash to start their new life, the Folk had taken up residence in the area.  Sheila lived in a gated apartment complex in the area, her room looking up at the healing hillside.  She paid more for it, but it spoke to the nature spirit in her.  After destruction there was new, often stronger, life.  It gave her hope that the Fae could grow strong after their own calamity.

Gaspar hummed to himself on the porch swing, wafting clouds of cotton candy vapor from his favorite brand of cancer-stick. Sitting out there served two purposes: a nicotine fix, and it let him ignore the inside of her apartment.  He had come to terms with the fact that the big pile of clothes opposite her bed was dirty, the clean ones were hung with care on an exercise machine, and it might take a week or more before her dishes made their way to the kitchen. Even though it drove his OCD ‘itchy with madness,’ he’d promised not to try to straighten up anymore.

The satyr stood looking at herself in a full-length mirror, one that was tacked to the wall without a frame.  She ran her fingertips over the bareness of her thighs, checking the state of the wax job she’d gotten the Sunday before.  They called it a ‘greek,’ and it removed all her fur from her navel to the middle of her thighs, giving the image of thigh-high stockings made of red fur.  She decided it was still clean enough, though she frowned at the state of her tail.  After hours trapped under a skirt, it looked more like bunny fluff than it did goat fur.  She fussed at it with a brush, then gave up.

Her hair, not happy with having been bound back all day, let its opinion be known by frizzing out as much as possible.  It was quite upset, she was sure, because she had not only tried out a new conditioner, but had dyed it a darker shade of red. Her usual color was closer to orange (Gaspar tried to help by calling it ‘coppery’), and her roots had been ‘hot.’ No matter how she tried, it wouldn’t form into the desired ringlets of luscious red. Instead it looked, in her opinion, like something found at the bottom of a basket of red yarn.  Giving up, her hair found itself bound tightly backwards before being slathered with leave in conditioner to weigh it down. Hair and tail would just have to stay upset.

“Your clothing allergy has gotten out of hand,” Gaspar patted her bottom as he walked by, then sat daintily on the edge of her bed. While he was entirely comfortable with her naked bits, he still gave her ever-growing laundry pile a look of horror. “Okay, so, if I paid for a maid… hazard pay, to be sure… would you even let them in here?”

Sheila did not look up from where she was sorting her clean dresses. “You know I can’t let someone in here unbound, Gaz.” She turned with a dress held up in front of her.  It was short, perhaps too short, and red… perhaps too red.  Her friend was looking at the wall near the head of her bed instead of the dress. On it was a painting of a door, covered in symbols, with a quite-real handle sticking out of it.  Above the door was a quote:

‘I have trod the upward and the downward slope; I have endured and done in days before; I have longed for all, and bid farewell to hope; And I have lived and loved, and closed the door.’

The quote had nothing to do with the operation of the door; Sheila just liked Stevenson.

“Sometimes,” Gaspar said quietly, sitting with a straight back, his knees folded, “I try to remember life before the Fae.  I think that maybe I knew what I was seeing, you know, before?”  he paused, adjusting the hem of his skirt, “I feel I’ve always know them… you.”  He offered her a smile, then motioned towards the portal with a delicate lift of his fingers, “Who knows, maybe I’ve seen a door like this in Manitou, and I was like… tra la la, yay, a painting?”

The two were bound together by a ritual, but there were still things she couldn’t tell him.  The trods, how they worked, their locations; all of these things would put his life in danger.  He was only allowed to know of this one because a quick splash of water would blend the colors, rendering it impotent.

“So,” she changed the subject, “does this say, ‘momma wants her bun honeyed?”

He knew what she was doing, but after a quick sigh, he came back with, “It says that, as well as, ‘just leave the money on the dresser.’”

“Sex, and some coffee money?” she sat next to him, pulling the dress up over her hooves, “Sounds like a win-win to me!”

“As long as you’re okay with 7-11 coffee, hooker,” he said, turning his usual sly smile away from her.  She knew she wouldn’t be winning this round of snark.

She stood up, turning her back to him so he could fit her tail through the button hole in the back of the dress.  While she made the proper adjustments to her cleavage, he stood to lace golden strands around her horns.  They were bargain-bin necklaces repurposed, but they went with the earrings she wore.  While some of her cousins would pierce the full length of their long, conical ears, she liked to keep things simple.  After Gaspar fixed her make-up, and she added a bit of shine on her hooves, they were ready to go.

Normally, they would have gone to a bar in Manitou, a nearby town that accepted the Folk.  Most of the residents were either Fae or their biggest fans.  Instead, they were heading to the Castle, downtown.  It was a meat market club, with heavier music, more expensive drinks, and hookups far cheaper.  Tonight was a ‘Faery Mixer’, a marketing ploy to get humans into the club. Let the strange and delightful drink free so you can over-charge the humans who want to touch them.

They made it from the parking garage without any of the usual stupidity.  Sheila was quite happy with the wolf whistle received from a passing car.  Usually, it was someone shouting some speciest bullshit. Sexism was far easier to tolerate, particularly when she was feeling sexy.  Once within the building, she settled Gaspar into a corner booth before going to get their drinks.

“Hey, satyr baby,” said a younger man, sliding a bit too close to her at the bar.

She sighed, ears twitching, then replied, “I’m a faun.” When he leaned in closer, turning his head towards her to hear over the music, she repeated: “I. am. a faun.”  He seemed confused by the correction, so she turned to collect the drinks from the bartender.

“You look like a satyr,” he replied, following her close through the crowd.  She swayed through the dancers and minglers expertly, an artform developed by years of waitressing. It was how she’d paid for college, after all.  She didn’t reply until she had the drinks set in front of Gaspar.  Adjusting her dress, she turned to lean towards her inebriated shadow.

“I’m a faun, not a satyr,” she lied.  It was a common mistake that humans made, confusing the two species.  “Satyrs are feral party animals,” she continued, leaving out the bad parts: the misogyny of her male counterparts, who were lauded for centuries for molesting nymphs and human women alike.

“So, what the fuck is a faun?” he asked, looking her up and down in disbelief.

“Like a satyr, but not as…” she paused, almost saying ‘rapey,’ “Easy.  I’m sure if I wasn’t a faun I’d be all about being called ‘satyr baby.’  I’m not, though, so… go away, ‘kay?”  Gaspar leaned up, making a shooing motion towards the man.

“Time to g’wan, boyo,” he said, managing to look both glamorous and intimidating.

“I was just being friendly, freak,” the young man stepped back a bit, raising his voice, “You think I, what, wanted some fucking beast like you?”  Humans were oddly attracted to the Fae, particularly the ones put together by lusty gods.  Resist their overtures and attraction turned to anger quickly.  Fae were less than human, not good enough, just monsters.  

Sheila had dealt with it many times before, but her Gaspar never handled it well.  Sliding into the booth next to him, she covered his hand with hers, shaking her head.

Finding himself being stared at, without any further responses from the ‘faun’ to fire him up, the young man walked away.  

“His prick is as small as his mind,” Gaspar quipped, testing the flavor of his grasshopper.  

“How do you drink those?” Sheila asked, wrinkling her nose in pretend disgust.  She preferred a good IPA over ‘girly’ drinks.  

“Because I want a drink that doesn’t taste like Stockholm syndrome?” he responded, spinning the ice in his glass.  Sheila chuckled softly; they’d disagreed about this for a long time.  She preferred heartier flavors.  Maybe it was the influence of Dionysus, but it didn’t matter, she liked beer.

“Oh, don’t look, but someone’s peeping!” Of course, she immediately turned to look, causing her friend to sigh in exasperation, “I said DON’T look!”

The peeper in question was handsome enough, dancing with a pair of women. Friends, if the way they moved was any clue.  He had dark hair, coupled with light eyes. She did like a nice light eye. She liked the way his clothes fit him even more, even though they weren’t expensive.  He seemed… comfortable. Sure to Gaspar’s word, his eyes spent more time on their booth than on the dance floor.  

“You positive he’s not looking at you?” She asked, watching the man dance.

“Oh, I wish he was,” came the reply, “I would climb that mountain and plant my flag in his textured crop top… but he is so horridly straight.”  She looked at her friend, who immediately tapped the side of his nose, “Gaydar says ‘no fly zone, possibly with anti-gaycraft in his back pockets.”

Sheila counted her blessings once again that Gaspar was in her life.  Without him, she wouldn’t have been able to get a moment’s peace in a packed club.  Folk only numbered close to five percent of the human population.  Most humans claimed to either know a Fae, or to have a friend who knew one personally. Still, they were rare enough for people to be curious, and now that the war was over, more were willing to chance an encounter.

“Go” Gaspar nudged her by sliding his butt against hers. “If he’s odious, give me the sign, girl.”

After a last swig of beer for courage, and some fussing with the length of the skirt (a sudden wish that it was longer), she started toward the trio.  She was used to being the one to start up a conversation, particularly since most who came to her were like ‘satyr baby’ from earlier.  The man smiled at her as she got closer, as did his companions.

Normally, Sheila felt very predatory trying to find a partner in a club.  Deny it as she might, she had satyr blood.  It meant that there was passion inside her that needed to come out. Where better than with nameless targets in a meat market like this one?  Sex could happen, and usually did, but it wasn’t necessarily the desired outcome.  A happy side effect, maybe.  It made her feel like she was prowling, devouring hapless dancers to make herself feel better.

When the man placed his fingertips gently against her arm, leaning down slightly to introduce himself, Sheila felt a kindred spirit.

“Greg,” he said, his voice rich, his mouth close enough to entice, but without touching the sensitive hairs on her ear.  A whiff of store bought musk brushed her nose, barely hiding the more pleasant copper and salt smell of his skin.

“Sheila,” she responded, and that was all it took. They were dancing.  The girls he was with didn’t introduce themselves, but neither did they leave.  Instead, they closed the distance, stepping inside of each other’s personal bubbles. Other than that first touch, Greg kept his hands to himself.  His friends, however, did all the touching for him.  The satyr didn’t mind, not in the least. They were all here for the same thing.  With a group like this, she didn’t have to worry about what might happen.  It allowed her to relax and release the energy she needed to.

Soon, she found herself closing the distance on Greg. It started with little touches: fingertips and hips, but as the music grew heavier, so too did her movements. The club was her temple to Bacchus. Dancing was her religion, and her god demanded ecstasy.  She had never in her life uttered a word of prayer to the creator of her race, but every time she set hoof to dance floor his presence was keenly felt.  

Her heart pounded in her ears as she ground against him, rhythm dictating their movements, heavy bass matching the beat in her chest.  He was turned on, she could tell, but he wasn’t hers quite yet.  She didn’t want him to want her.  She wanted him to need her.  She squatted in front of him, still moving to the beat, but placing her face close enough to his jeans to get her point across.

Hands on her horns dragged her backwards away from Greg, turning her as she slid to her knees.  The young man from before met her angry eyes with madness of his own. Holding her horns didn’t hurt as much as her hair might have, but to her it was twice as humiliating.

“I’m not good enough to talk to, freak?” he shouted over the music, the ambient noise in the club lowering as people stopped dancing to stare. “But you can dance with this… this... faggot?”  The floor was too smooth for her to get her hooves placed well, not with his yanking her head about.  Greg and his friends tried to help, but the young man had friends of his own. Even with the press of the crowd growing worse as people jockeyed to see her predicament, she could still make out the boy’s friends pushing her support away. Words shouted, hostilities rising, and all Sheila could do was flounder.

“I’ve got you figured out,” he mocked. “I just needed to get a ‘handle’ on you!”  He laughed at his own joke, then dragged her head towards his crotch, “Fucking blow me, beast!”

A hoof finally setting itself right was all she needed to drive herself forward, so that’s what she did.  One curved horn landed with a satisfying crunch into his junk, making him scream.  He didn’t let her go, so she rammed him once more.  Trying to twist her head caused him more damage, so he finally let go. Freed, fueled by the rage of being so violated, she came up swinging, but failed to connect.  A hand wrapped around her waist, pulling her back, a familiar voice calming her slightly.

“Woah, woah,” Greg shouted, pulling her backwards, “I think he gets it.”  The young man’s friends rushed to his aid, glaring at the satyr as if she was the problem. She could hear Gaspar calling to her, trying to reach her through the crowd.

“You fucking freak!” the man shouted from the floor, both hands gripping between his legs, his voice cracking with pain. “I’ll fucking kill you!  I’ll mount your damn horns on my wall!”

She lashed a hoof out towards him, but he was too far for her to land the blow.  Greg held her tight, speaking calmly to her, and she let that ease her anger.  Shock came as adrenaline ebbed.  She had struck a human.  The camera lights aimed at her, the eyes of those around her, they all reminded her of just how sub human she truly was.

A dog had just bitten the mailman, and the best the bitch could hope for was being caged.

[thoughtsfromfiction]

Colossal: The Kaiju Honey-Trap to Lure in Misogynists

**WARNING: SPOILERS AHEAD**

When I walked into the theater to watch Colossal I thought I knew what I was getting into: the film had set up its audience for a fun mash-up between a kaiju film and an indie romcom. Anne Hathaway plays Gloria, a thirty something screw up trying to make it in NYC. She drinks too much, parties too hard, and just does not have her sh** together. The story starts when her uptight British boyfriend can’t take her shenanigans anymore so he breaks up with her and kicks her out. Gloria returns to her hometown where who should she run into but childhood friend and Resident Nice Guy, Oscar (played by Jason Sudeikis). Maybe with the help of his down-to-earth charm and small-town thoughtfulness Gloria will experience some good, old emotional growth. Just look at that budding romance:

Oh, and Gloria also discovers that she is somehow connected to a giant, even colossal, monster that mysteriously appeared in Seoul, South Korea that nicely sets up all sorts of metaphors about inner demons and alcoholism and the external consequences of our actions, and whatever, that’s not what this essay is about. But minus the giant monster, we’ve all seen this movie, right?

Spoiler alert: Wrong.

When Oscar drives into Gloria’s life in his red pickup truck, he is everything you’d expect from a small-town nice guy. Laid back, friendly, helpful, and the antithesis of her ex-boyfriend Tim (played by Dan Stevens) who was uptight, British, and hyper-critical. Oscar in contrast doesn’t judge Gloria’s behavior but unobtrusively tries to help her. He gives her a job at his bar and introduces her to his friends. He even gives her a TV and a futon. We learn that he has long-lasting feelings for Gloria dating back to their childhood, but he doesn’t push it because he’s a “nice guy.”

Enter the Robot.

Oscar emerges from the wings in which he’s been perpetually waiting for Gloria to come back and fall for him with a colossal counterpart of his own.

What’s going to happen next? What evil will emerge for the two of them to join together and fight? What life lessons will our protagonists learn about themselves?

In short: Oscar is going to metaphorically chain Gloria to him because the evil that emerges is domestic violence and the only lesson they’ll learn is that a guy doesn’t have to be a rich, megalomaniac to be an abuser (although that certainly doesn’t inhibit - for more details see the current US president), abusive a**hole potential can just as easily be found in the boring, average, nice guys.

One could try to argue that his giant robot avatar sets him apart from most guys, but that isn’t what makes him a bad guy. His ability to control a giant robot in Seoul only enables him to exert power and control over Gloria, it doesn’t create that desire; that is all him. Speaking of power and control, I think it’s time to direct our attention to the Power and Control Wheel:

Oscar manages to use most of these tactics over the course of the film. The first red flag the audience saw that the Resident Nice Guy wasn’t so nice was when he got unjustifiably jealous over his cute friend. He used the fact that she slept with his friend to justify his mean and controlling behavior. As if they had made some silent agreement that his niceness and generosity were contingent on the fact that they would eventually enter into a romantic relationship. A silent, imaginary agreement that she violated and therefore deserved to be treated like garbage. By giving her a job and furniture he is able to control her economically and make her feel that she is somehow in his debt. When Gloria tried to call him out on his behavior, rather than owning up to it, he deployed some armor-piercing emotional abuse and minimized his behavior by comparing it to the time that she fell, accidentally killing hundreds of people. Finally, he threatened the people of Seoul to blackmail her into staying much like real-life abusers use children and loved ones.

Now because we didn’t know that we were in a domestic violence movie, most of us probably overlooked or were quick to forgive all of these microaggressions. The fact that he had been keeping tabs on her ever since she left was sweet, not obsessive. The fact that he repeatedly watched her get drunk to the point of memory loss was just him letting her make her own choices (unlike that hyper-critical Tim); he wasn’t purposefully getting her drunk so that he could more easily manipulate her. The fact that he freaked out at Joel when he tried to kiss her wasn’t possessive it was protective.

It's only with hindsight and context that the audience can reinterpret Oscar’s actions as controlling.

Even after Oscar goes full, evil villain and threatens to destroy a town, Gloria (and probably a lot of people in the audience) still treat him like the Resident Nice Guy. Oscar isn't set up as the domestic abuser like in the movies Enough and Sleeping with the Enemy. Those abusers are shown very early to be basically pure evil. Oscar isn't like that. While none of his actions are excusable, it is possible to come up with excuses and explanations for his behavior. He only acts like that when he's drunk, he feels trapped in a small town, he never lived up to his potential, he's trying to hold on to a childhood sweetheart. None of those excuses are valid, but they are very typical. Everyone knows someone who gets unreasonable when they're drunk, who's bitter about their lot in life, and occasionally takes it out on others. So when he apologizes so sincerely, Gloria’s willingness to let it go and to blame his behavior on how drunk he was is understandable. And for like, five minutes, Oscar goes back to being a nice guy, but as soon as things stop going his way again, he reverts right back into his controlling, demeaning tactics towards her.

Which is when I direct attention to the Cycle of Violence.

The film shows its audience two full cycles of violence. This is critical because it is the only way to show that Oscar’s recent behavior isn't an aberration. His apologies, promises, and pleas that he makes at the end of the film cannot be trusted because he has broken those promises before (it helps that literally hundreds of lives are at stake in Seoul). But that moment of hesitation when her avatar monster has Oscar in her clutches is incredibly tense. I for one, didn’t know if she was going to let him go or flick his head right off like a quarter. Ultimately, what justifies her actions is that knowledge in the back of the audience’s head is that he cannot be trusted to keep his word. Because he didn’t before. By taking the time to show two full cycles, the film rejects the idea of a linear devolution from Nice Guy to Piece of Garbage and instead shows that Oscar is actually both...and neither, it depends on where he is in his cycle (menstrual pun intended).

Oscar is so average, he isn’t even the only average a**hole in the film; there are two more. Tim has two major jerk moments, one at the beginning and one when he pretends to be on a business trip to see her again. After that first scene, I really didn’t think we’d see him again. When he showed up again halfway through I was surprised and a little disappointed. Really? The uptight ex really loved her all along and he’s going to swoop in and save her from her nightmare? But Colossal subverted my expectations again. First, they didn’t paint his lying about a business trip and flying all the way out there as cute, they painted it as what it truly would be: weird and disconcerting. Second, the film also showed how equally unromantic and sexist and gross it is for two men to compete with each other for a woman without consulting her at all.

Third, they showed that Tim too had his place on the Power and Control Wheel. He regularly used emotionally abusive tactics to make Gloria feel worthless. He proved that he wasn’t there to help her, but to wear her down with criticisms until she fit his expectations.

Then there’s Joel. Joel is not abusive. He seems like a nice guy, but you know what else he is? Frakking useless. He knows Oscar, has known him for years, he witnesses Oscar’s behavior, sees how vile it is, and does NOTHING. He doesn’t call Oscar out when he mistreats Gloria, and he doesn’t call him out when he’s laying waste to entire neighborhoods. He doesn’t even comfort Gloria, show her any support, a single pat on the shoulder. This is his chance to punch a robot...(once removed)! Be a hero! Instead, the only thing he does is give a tiny little thanks-for-nothing smile while he watches Gloria take care of her own self from the warm safety of a bar.

I’m not saying that by not interfering Noel is “just as bad” as Oscar, what I am going to say is that by not calling Oscar out, he’s perpetuating the idea that what Oscar’s doing and the way he’s treating Gloria is no big deal.

Really the only halfway decent guy the film has in it is the drug addict. He does make some feeble attempts to hold Oscar accountable for his garbage behavior. But once he starts taking on some of the heat himself he’s quick to jet. Gloria is utterly alone. Surrounded by run-of-the-mill jerks who are all part of the problem. The problem being a culture that equates jealousy and obsession with romance, aggression with assertiveness, and demands bros before hoes.

When viewed in that context, the actions of Oscar, Tim, and Joel are no longer so surprising.  Oscar wasn’t in a lab accident that turned him into an evil psychopath, he wasn’t secretly an evil psychopath the whole time, he’s just a run-of-the-mill jerk.

He’s the guy who insults you when you try to give him a criticism, the guy who thinks because he bought you dinner so many times that he’s definitely going to get some, the guy who gets jealous of how much time you spend with your friends, the guy who thinks you should be grateful that he didn’t make out with your roommate when he had the chance, the guy who tells you to not be such a b*tch. What makes Oscar a compelling villain is that he isn’t compelling at all: he’s the Jerk Everyman.

...and he need to be stopped.

[elementalchick1]

Birds of Prey rewrite

Birds of Prey/ Harley Quinn Fix this story

My disclaimer: I ma more a Birds of Prey than Harley Quinn fan, though I love her in the cartoons and Suicide Squad. However, this movie was not good. Basically the story needs to be an empowering, funny, sexy, chick flick and it fails miserably. First, the costumes must be wonderful, not the trash bag thrift store panic shopping of the movie.

Synopsis: Harley and the Joker break up. Not sure what happened because it does not matter, but it happened when she was in prison. Harley does a drunken melt down, similar to the movie, but the soundtrack is “bang” by AJR. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4THFRpw68oQ During this Harley realizes that she has no friends. They are all Jokers crowd, and the ones who are still friendly think they are getting back together. They are also all gangster groupies. One can even quip “girls just wanna have fun”. This is different from the movie because she thought she had friends, not just Joker. Harley is doing what she calls couch surfing, which means breaking into rich people’s second homes while they are out and eating their food and raiding their closets. Harley is arrested and Amanda Waller tells her that she is on indefinite probation if she can show she is rehabilitated. Basically the suicide squad can only be from activated criminals who have potential to be rehabilitated instead of the worst. “I want you on a chain, but they want you lobotomized or put down like a rabid dog. Your choice. Is this you or is this him?” She chooses mandated rehab. “Which one?” “I don’t care. You are the psychiatrist. DO them all” New Rules: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k2qgadSvNyU

SO we have the joy of Harley quin going through 12 step (and other) programs.  Shot of a board at a Y/center with the Support Groups schedule. She takes the whole thing. Comedy montage of Bikram yoga mindfulness class, breaking the finger of a guy that gropes her, “SO sex addicts group was a mistake” etc. Visual quote of Fight Club support scenes. In “co-dependents no more” she meets Canary/Dinah, who she had seen around. Canary is assigned as her sponsor. Part of the fun is we are not sure who Canary means when she describes “Men in power are addictive. The surrender of control, the reduction to Id, seems like a type of freedom. But it is a cage. You are on their leash.”  Ras-al Ghul or Arrow? (Hint underlying message- all of the birds in the movie destroy their cages- or make new ones) HQ:“You know the 12 step programs don’t work if you are an atheist.”  Canary: “You know that placebos work even if you know it’s a placebo?” Therapy montage song options:  I Love me: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vImvzQCb0o8&list=PL3oW2tjiIxvTKa5OYCIb8TdKjxSYuv5dg&index=23

I drive me mad: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SqBvK14JPGg&list=PL3oW2tjiIxvTKa5OYCIb8TdKjxSYuv5dg&index=36

In the different groups, she meets many people including Cassidy Cain in Klepto Anonymous. Harley co-opts and ends up leading several of the sessions. (I am OK with the casting of Canary but would like Camila Cabello. Though she could be Huntress.) Cassidy is a very different character from the movie. She is still 13, but smarter, and always on a phone. Running joke, it is a different phone in every scene. She is an epic pickpocket, appearing to be a clueless teen who bumps into people because she talks and texts and selfies all at once while actually picking people’s pockets and photographing security. She also gleans information and is the source of information on why people hate Harley.  “Wow. You should see his Instagram. He should be banned for those images. Just a sec. Done.” She is the definition of plucky comic relief. Casting should actually cast a minor. (Marsai Martin, Mckenna Grace, Brooklynn Prince.)

The Bertinelli Diamond is a nice plot device, bringing in Huntress who is tracking it as well as the gangsters who killed her family. (BTW this needs to be recast with someone who has a charisma and can at least dance. Madison Beer, Nicole Maines, Hailee Steinfeld, etc. Huntress wears motorcycle leathers, a very Asian gang vs American biker look) HQ: “OOo! Italian leather!” The Huntress backstory is necessary but cut the bit about young Helena drawing with crayons. If she draws, it should be recognizable. She’s had art lessons since 2.

Harley sees Cassidy Cain on the street steal from a known gangster.  The chase begins. We can keep the glitter cannon/ prop room brawl, but it should be a gangster hideout not the police station, (unless she can get out of it another time and have a joke where Canary coughs “white privilege”) However, to preserve a better story arc, let’s move this to a gangster vault, and have this be where we meet the Huntress. Here is where we realize that Harley loves to hit things, but hates to shoot things. Huntress is fine shooting things. “Do you have to kill everybody?” “Do you have to blow up every crime scene?” “yes” Bad Guy: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DyDfgMOUjCI

SO Harley has Cassidy and Huntress hanging around. Huntress wants to use Cassidy as bait while they wait for the diamond to drop. Funny bit as Huntress gets sucked into group, probably an anger management group. “I always wanted to be a teacher” Harley wants to finish her program and needs to check in with her sponsor. She is on step 8/9.

Canary: “DID you make your list” HQ: “ I think so.” Drops a ream of paper. “I have to apologize to everyone?” “It’s a start. And I know someone you could start with. It might be easier than the rest because she was hurt when you were in jail” HQ”????” Canary “Practice” Barbara Gordon is never referred to using her whole name. (casting: Liana Liberato, Kennedy McMann) The cop in the movie is completely unnecessary. Either have Oracle, “B” be in the movie or cast someone like Rosario Dawson to be a kick ass Hispanic cop and have her stuck in vice and always asked to work for ICE. Since Gotham city embodies the worst of our current world skewed through a dark lens of madness, having the women in the movie own that “the women in Gotham are the ones who have to clean up and deal with the shit and the fallout of all the crazies.”-B. “That ain’t me”-HQ. “You act like the only options are to be the ass who trashes the place or the maid. (I’m going to) Find something else”-Cassidy. The rest of the film is Bs first real run as Oracle, remotely feeding them information, using drones, shutting down the bad guys tech. “There’s more than one way to fight.”

At the climax, which does have a giant brawl of gangster thugs after the team, but all of the team, each having a dose of enemies. It begins with a girl power makeover scene as they are arming. Cassidy:“We should RUN!” Huntress: “I have been running and hunting my whole life. I want this over” Huntress gets carbon fiber outfit from B “Moves better than leather and is knife and bullet resistant, but not proof” Harley gives Canary the fishnets. “Just try them. You need some fun.” The girls make Harley stop with the white face. “Keep the Harlequin Loose the clown. “  Cassidy has a CIA briefcase she stole from the gangster prop room HQ: “Where’s ya get that?” Cassidy:” Stole it from the gangsters but can’t open it”  B:”Here let me” It is adaptive camouflage stealth tech armor. Cassidy: ”Yay! You can’t hit what you can’t see” HQ and Huntress: ”That’s what grenades are for” HQ: “Jinx!” B: “No grenades!” HQ:”we know. No Grenades! (softer)… inside”

Makeover song montage options: My way: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a5I4KwxMXAA

All the good girls go to hell:  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-PZsSWwc9xA

Nice to meet ya: (also might work for the group therapy montage)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MRvKL8FnrtU&list=PL3oW2tjiIxvTKa5OYCIb8TdKjxSYuv5dg&index=42

The massive gangster fight proceeds. The movie does OK with this except for the dubious production design, and the lack of using Huntress well. And that all of the gangsters are completely incompetent. Note on the bad guys: We do not need a named bad guy. The “Black mask” was lame and sucked screen time. It can just be gangs, at least one run by the gangster(s) Huntress needs to kill. But just mafia, not stupid mask nonsense. As part of the makeover montage, they make a plan and set up a kill zone. B: Looking at Cassidy:”cough- Capture zone” Cassidy (on phone) “Please, what am I 12? Gotham only has kill zones.” B: “maybe we can change that” HQ: “Not tonight we can’t. Baby steps” Huntress snipes the ones with automatic guns that enter the building. Casandra fights and hides. Dropping stuff from vents, etc. When the dust settles, Joker appears: “DO I have to do everything myself?” He tries to talk Harley into coming back, She freezes, then realizes he is just distracting her so he can grab Cassidy.  It works. She chooses her new life and goes to get Cassidy.  She defeats him and kicks him off of the pier, possibly while analyzing him. “You were a horrible boyfriend!”

At the end, Birds of Prey is formed, with the good costumes. HQ:“I drop by every now and then, but I need to work on me. Cassidy stays with B, but we see each other all of the time” “Do I have to stay with you? You’re no fun” B: “I’m the only one who can pass a background check”

HQ; “I got an apartment. I had to get a roommate but I think it will work out.” There is a shot of the Help board at the Y/center with the “roommates” section and she grabs one of every tab numbers including one that says “Ivy” (Cameo of Evan Rachel wood or one of the CW redheads asking “Do you like plants?”) (This can occur earlier if we need a comic break)  

“And I got a job. Turns out in Gotham, group leaders can have an expired license.” Shot of Harley sitting in a bright spotlight with a notepad in a shadowed room full of figures in chairs with a highlight on a cape, an animal ear, etc. “Who wants to go first?”  

Playlist:

My Oh My: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6fd2kkLmSDQ&list=PL3oW2tjiIxvTKa5OYCIb8TdKjxSYuv5dg&index=18

The man: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AqAJLh9wuZ0&list=PL3oW2tjiIxvTKa5OYCIb8TdKjxSYuv5dg&index=27

Good in goodbye: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rQZJsOSw1pU&list=PL3oW2tjiIxvTKa5OYCIb8TdKjxSYuv5dg&index=45

Bang bang: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0HDdjwpPM3Y

New Rules: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k2qgadSvNyU

Burn the house down: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UnyLfqpyi94

Good as hell: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SmbmeOgWsqE

Beach bunny Prom Queen: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dc6SSu5pnHw

Bored: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tsPxaAVg584

Kings and queens: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jH1RNk8954Q

Sweet but a psycho: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WXBHCQYxwr0

All the good girls go to hell:  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-PZsSWwc9xA

Insane like me: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XeltAGwwsDQ