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vanillann · 4 years ago

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from stars to the balcony (b.b)

a/n: this is based off the prompt “Either Bucky or Reader are feeling down (in any way, sad, angry, angsty, whatever), there is a power blackout and the other one notices that now you can see the stars, fluff” by @emmabarnes !

word count: 2.3k

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I could feel my legs burn from pacing the length of my room, my finger toying with the sleeve of my long sleeve. The tea I had made earlier sat on the table but I had long forgotten about it, the conversation from the kitchen was replying too fast.

I was fired, I didn’t have a job. I had bills to pay but no income for the moment. It was because of downsizing, which meant I could get unemployment, but still. I had been working at this job since I was fresh out of college and now I was left to rot in my own self pity.

I pulled my shirt closer to my skin, hoping it would absorb into my skin. As soon as I got the call I turned the heat down, hoping it would save some money. I rubbed my hand up and down my face, trying to think something over in my head but I was too stuck.

The busy street of Brooklyn was calmer than normal, something I was thankful for. I didn’t want to listen to stranger arguments or drunk girl giggles tonight, I didn’t want to even hear my own thoughts. I picked up the tea cup, walking back over the microwave and placing it in the center. I punched in the numbers, turning to lean on. my counter as I rocked on my heels.

I wanted to scream, but I didn’t need a noise complaint either and considering the man next door always got home late, I had only seen his face and I recognized his face immediately but I said nothing, it wasn’t my business.

Suddenly the calming sound of my microwave had stopped, the little lamp in the corner of the was out and I already knew what had happened, This is why this place had 3 stars. I pulled at the shirt to cover my hands, hoping that would change something but I could already fill the cold air rush over my cheeks.

I turned to open the microwave, smiling, then I noticed the tea had a light smoke falling out the top, dancing in the pitch back air with a little heat rushing to my face. I held it closer, finding one of the many candles I had bought forever ago and lit it in the center of the room.

I would’ve scrolled through my phone for a minute but I didn’t need my data bill going up. The soft blanket my cousin had knitted me was wrapped tightly around me and I could already feel myself warming. I looked around the room, trying to find a book I hadn’t read or something to do when I noticed the clear sky. It made me wonder why the power even went out, my curiosity getting the best of me as I pulled the blanket closer and warmed my hands on the tea. I grabbed the metal handle of the door, opening it just enough to slip through before I rested my hands on the edge. I looked down for a second, the sidewalk only had a few people on it and there were only taxis on the street.

“You aren’t jumping, are ya?”

I turned around swiftly, spotting the silhouette of a person on the balcony beside me. He had a hat pulled down to cover his face, he was wearing a thin long sleeve and pants, definitely not bundled up in the cold breeze of Brooklyn.

I had to remind myself who he was, superheroes don’t freeze in New York city.

“Oh no, no,” I repeated the words quickly, finding I had leaned over slightly to look at the city below better.

“Just checking, wouldn’t want to explain that to the cops.”

I winched when I realized what he meant, they would think he did it.

“Your name is James, right?” I decided having a conversation with the man from next door never hurt anyone, although I noticed the book in his lap and I didn’t think he’d respond, I wouldn’t blame him.

“Yeah, but most people call me worse names.”

I frowned, moving to the corner closer to him so I wouldn’t have to talk as loud. This felt like a lot more intimate conversation.

“I’ve been called so pretty bad things, doesn’t mean they're true.”

He didn’t respond, I suppose he didn’t wanna get into it with a stranger.

“What book ya reading?”

“Hunger something,” he moved it slightly so I could see part of the cover. I smiled when I recognized the gold bird across the dark cover.

“The Hunger Games! I really enjoyed that one,” I turned back to look out at the sky, “I’ve watched the movies one too many times.”

“They made movies?”

I was about to yelp but I managed to hold it back, I had forgotten not everyone was obsessed with these things.

“Yeah, four of ‘em,” I could hear my own voice jump a few octavos, he was probably so annoyed with me.

“Oh,” I saw him nod out the corner and I decided I should shut up and let him continue his reading. It was only fair because if someone had interrupted me I’d probably pull a Katniss and shot them with a bow and arrow.

I let my eyes drift over the closed stores, the light around the area was out and it made me feel better. We weren't the only place without power. The few people on the sidewalk were gone and I watched the last taxi drive off with two giggling girls who were wearing those “I Heart NY” shirts. I always loved counting those as a kid, feeling a strange pride from being from New York.

“You must be from around here.”

There was his voice giving me a heart attack again. If he didn’t keep catching me off guard I would admire how rough and powerful it sounded, like he could tell you to sit and you’d do it like a sad puppy waiting for a treat.

“Yeah, Buffalo but I visited Brooklyn a lot, how’d ya know?” I turned slightly so I could look at him when I spoke, since he seemed to actually want to talk.

“Only people from New York would be amazed by the clear sky, I used to hate how you could never see the stars,” I watched him place the book to the side, standing up and leaning against his own railing. The faint light from the few buildings that had power flashed across his face. He was taller than I remembered and his hair was longer, pulled into a little ponytail at the nape of his neck. I watched him tip his hat up slightly, I could actually see his eyes.

“I didn’t even notice the stars,” I turned back to look at the stars in question, smiling when I could see all the consolation that people would point out in chessy movies.

“I was amazed I could see any, kinda glad the power went out.”

He shrugged so carelessly, something about the demeanor suited him.

“I wish I could say the same,” I whispered against the wind, trying to push the feeling I had earlier from my body completely but I knew that was impossible.

It was silent for a second like we both didn’t want to scare the stars from the sky.

“I never learned any of the consolations.”

I smiled this time when he spoke because he was trying to keep the conversation alive.

“Can’t say I have either,” I turned back to admire him, the way he looked at the stars like it was everything to him.

“That one looks like it would be a Latin name,” he pointed to a cluster of stars like he was pointing at a cloud and telling someone it looked like an elephant when it definitely didn’t. Instead of calling him out I smiled, turning and letting my own eyes ranked over the millions of stars.

“That one looks really important, you know like it comes out every two hundred years,” my finger extended to point at a few stray stars that seemed to shine brighter than the rest, but I doubted that.

“Wonder if you’re right,” I could hear a slight chuckle in his voice as if he knew something I didn’t but it was more than likely he did.

“If I am then you owe me ten bucks,” my own laughs filled in behind his own, the once silent streets were long gone as James pointed to a different star.

“That one looks like you.”

“How can someone look like a star,” I kept laughing, looking at the stars he was talking about.

“I don’t know, but you do.”

I felt his eyes watch me but I didn’t have it in me to look at him, just watching the star that apparently looked like me. A large, duller star sat beside it but as it moved it seemed to grow brighter.

“That one is you then,” I pointed, smiling when I heard him scoff.

“That feels like a burn!”

I laughed, smiling as the breeze spread over my body and I couldn’t help but pull the blanket closer. I wanted to go in, because while it wasn’t much warmer it was something, but picking out stars with this man next door was a lot of fun.

I didn’t expect to enjoy the powerless night so much, but I was suddenly just as happy about it.

“I think that is Sirius, the dog star,” the nerd in me jumped out, laughing when I heard him slam his hand slightly on the rail. I said nothing of the mental on mental sound, I knew some things that happen in pop culture.

“I thought you didn’t know about this stuff!”

“I don’t, I just like Harry Potter,” I shrugged, looking back at his face. The few lights that were once on were off down, the only reason I saw any of his face was street lamps and the moon itself. I enjoyed watching his eyebrows raise, disappearing under the brim of his hat.

“I think Banner mentioned that once,” I don’t think he meant for me to hear and I thought best not to talk about his line of work, I definitely wouldn’t want to have to talk about mine if he asked.

“Probably, book and movie series.”

He nodded, both our eyes filtered back to the night sky that hung above us. It was enchanting to say the least, two kids from the city looking up at the sky like they lived in the country.

“You seemed stressed when you came out, do you feel any better?”

For the first time tonight, he asked a question I didn’t want to answer. I didn’t want to talk about any of my feelings from inside my small apartment, that was too real for the boy next door. Out here was light and airy, no stuffy matter allowed.

“Yeah, but I’d rather not talk about it.”

“I wasn’t planning on asking, just wanted to make sure you were feeling better.”

Anyone else would have been offended. He wasn't planning to ask but I respected it. He understood not to ruin a good moment like this, not now. Keep it light while it can be, because the second things get heavy the feeling is gone, I needed a light moment for this single second. If he wanted to knock on my door in the morning and ask then, fine, but now wasn’t the time and I was thankful we saw the same thing.

Another breeze brushed over my skin, a chill running up my skin and I frowned when the mug was no longer hot. I heard a pop from behind me and I turned to notice my lamp was back on.

The power was back, which meant the moment was gone.

“Well, power is back,” he awkwardly pointed over his shoulder at the building, his own apartment didn’t have much light but I assumed he was out here before the power went out,

“Yeah, I should probably head in,” I knew it would be warmer, but I felt as if my body was so much calmer out here.

“Yeah.”

We watched each other for a minute, I took my last glance at the boy with the beat up hat and the laugh of a Greek God.

“Night James,” I waved over my shoulder, holding the mug to my chest and grabbing the freezing door handle.

“Night (Y/N).”

I slipped back in the apartment, smiling when the little heat crashed onto my freezing cheeks, the contrast nice for the first few seconds. I set the mug down, blowing out the candle as my apartment now smelt like apple cider, which was just as calming. I missed the moments on the balcony but I was happy for the heat. I moved around my apartment, fixing my alarm clock and resetting a few other things after the power outages. I had just replugged the wifi router when I heard a little knock at my door. I assumed it was the landlord to tell me the power was back, obviously. I slid across the floor, swinging it open as I was prepared to lean on the door frame. I felt myself frown, not out of sadness but confusion as I realized who it was.

“James?”

He pulled his hand out his pocket, holding out ten dollars with a little shrug.

“Some crazy eclipses thing is happening tonight, hasn’t happened in two hunder and nine years.”

I couldn’t stop the large smile that graced my lips as I reached out to pull the ten-dollar from his grip, smiling more when he lingered in the doorway for a second.

“The tea you had looked good,” he rocked back and front of his feet, his eyes downcast to his shoes.

“Like a mug of it?” He looked up, smiling as I opened the door wider from him.

“If you insist.”

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demonologist-in-denim · 4 years ago

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“Okay,” Dean declared as the Winchesters, Cas and Crowley ambled into the mostly empty museum, “this place is awesome!”

For any imaginative child – or grown man denied the joy of childhood – the interactive children’s museum and library was very much a magical place. The walls were brightly painted, with puzzles or buttons that lit up. There were large foam constructions to climb on, and nooks to hide in, rope bridges and swing sets, an obstacle course and one of those nebula lightening balls that made kids’ hair stand on end. According to the map of the vast museum, there was a room where the entire floor was a pool of bubble solution, and kids hopped from island to island, using huge wands to blow massive bubbles. In another room, kids could be the bubbles, climbing inside inflated suits and bouncing around a room full of air jets. An entire wing of the museum was given over to a library, where shelves revolved to reveal hidden rooms and spiral staircases led up into miniature observatories. It was a place of childhood wonder and imagination.

All that fun, however, was being put on hold by unwelcome disappearances – and odd appearances. Lately, museum and library staff were going missing, and in their place, children were suddenly appearing. The children all went unclaimed at the end of the day, and made quite a bit of fuss when adults attempted to help them find their families. They insisted they weren’t really children at all.

“A case involving children,” Crowley griped, “how delightful.”

“Come on, Crowley,” Sam laughed at both the demon and his brother’s excited exploration of one of the exhibits. “We were all kids once. With imagination and joy and – you know – optimism about life.”

“Speak for yourself,” Crowley muttered. He grabbed Dean by the elbow and dragged him over to the cartoon-styled map of the museum. The FBI agents and the consulting Child’s Services counselors had just come from a meeting with the museum’s director regarding the case, and were scoping out the place. Normally, one pair would have done the preliminary investigation while the other pair looked into lore and the victims, but the museum was massive and too much for just two people. And it was clear that Dean was going to be a bit of a handful on this case.

Cas wasn’t helping much either.

“You were a child, once.” The fallen angel smiled irritatingly and glanced at Crowley out of the corner of his eye, thoroughly enjoying ribbing the reformed demon. “You wouldn’t have enjoyed a place like this? Is there not some small – very small – part of you that – ”

“I’m going to spare you from finishing that utterly ridiculous sentence, Feathers. If this is Neverland, than I am Captain Hook. Which would make you lot the Lost Boys and that one – ” He eyed Dean as the hunter enthusiastically dug a penny out of his pocket and set to spinning down the museum’s donation funnel. Crowley would murder them all before admitting something in him softened at the sight. “ – the boy who will never grow up.”

They all watched Dean for a moment, watching the penny as it spun round and round.

“Right,” Sam said, nodding towards the entrance to the main exhibits. “Who’s up for some exploring?” The four passed through the turnstile and into the museum.

It was rather obvious what was happening, of course. Something or someone was turning the museum and library staff into their childhood selves. Crowley wasn’t yet clear on the how or why of it. Or how to reverse whatever was happening.

What he did know was to take the necessary precautions against the Winchesters, Castiel or himself being turned into children. The absolute last thing he needed was for Sam and Dean to be downsized to hyperactive, bloodthirsty “wee-chesters” with himself and Cas responsible for their care and the case. Or worse – much, much worse – for all of four of them to be de-aged. In which case, the only real solution, horrible as it would be, would be to call his mother. Crowley could only imagine the delight Rowena would take in that particular situation. Unless, of course, reversing the spell proved to be difficult, in which case she would have not one, but four very rambunctious and very unwelcome boys under her care.

Rowena was not even remotely fond of children, much less her own son at that age. And it wasn’t something Crowley had any interest in reliving either. Thus, the necessary precautions were in place.

Which left him free to enjoy, from an emotional remove and with dismissive amusement, the wonders of the children’s museum.

Room after room opened into another immersive, interactive exhibit. A room where they walked on bridges and ducked under overpasses built for marble races. A room lit up in blacklight with huge, glowing blocks where kids learned about the light spectrum. More than once, they nearly lost Dean.

“Dude! Dude!” Dean grabbed Cas by a shoulder and shook him. “That room is a giant ball pit! And slides!” The hunter stared up into the two-story high room designed to look like an alien spaceship, where slides of all different colors and lengths slithered down into the ball pit. A child walked by eating a multi-colored swirled cookie from the museum’s café. The treat was the same size as the kid’s head. Dean stared after him. “Duuuude…”

“I am beginning to suspect,” Crowley mused, glancing back with bemusement as Dean shuffled after them, craning his neck to look into every room they passed, “that whatever is causing the staff to become children likely has to do with their own over-enthusiasm for the museum.”

“You think so?” Sam asked. Almost to juxtapose his brother, he straightened his suit’s tie and walked like the professional FBI agent he was pretending to be. “I would have guessed it was the work of a witch.”

“Oh yeah?” Dean hopped on the moving sidewalk and rode ahead of them, looking a little too proud of himself for it. “If that’s the case, why bother? In my experience, witches turn adults into kids to eat them. But there are plenty of kids running around, so why not just snatch any of them?”

Castiel furrowed his brow at Dean and glanced around them, concerned. “You should not talk about snatching children so loudly in public.”

“Feathers makes a good point.”

“Yeah, okay, thanks, Mr. Pretend Child Services.”

Crowley adjusted his cardigan and glared at the hunter. He still wasn’t clear why, exactly, he and Cas needed to play at the counselors while the Winchesters got to be the investigating agents.

“Maybe it is some sort of benevolent entity,” Cas offered, obnoxiously hopeful as always. “Perhaps it only wishes for the staff to enjoy the museum and the library as much as their young patrons enjoy it. And it doesn’t understand that it is causing undue harm.”

“Yeeeah,” Sam smiled weakly at the fallen angel. “I suppose that could be it.”

The foursome stopped at the end of the corridor, before a massive pile of books stacked to create a doorway which marked the entrance to the library. Beyond, light choired through the room in sparkling peals, shelves upon shelves climbed the walls, and in the center rose a great tree. Not a real tree, as would be immediately obvious to any adult. A sign declared it to be The Great Reading Tree, and rope ladders and staircases climbed up into its branches, where hammocks hung and platforms with railings looked out over the room. There were soft burrows carved into the tree at the base and into some of the larger branches, where children could nestle in for a read. The top branches entwined with the ceiling and drifted out over the room. Bookmarks dangled above the boys’ heads.

“Don’t,” Sam warned his brother, “even think about it.”

Dean opened his mouth to protest, but couldn’t keep the massive smile off his face. It was clear just how badly he wanted to climb The Great Reading Tree. Even if he wouldn’t fit in any of the hammocks or burrows or any of the rest of it.

They walked through a room bathed in ultramarine, with floor-to-ceiling aquariums creating a child-sized maze. Dean stopped to ogle the dwarf lanternshark and scare the pufferfish into inflating. With bored exasperation, Cas reminded him not to tap on the glass. In a room without lights, the floor tiles were lit in bright colors and chimed musical notes as the boys stepped on them. Dean danced the chorus of “You Can’t Always Get What You Want,” and Crowley may or may not have tapped out the opening notes of Brahms’ Symphony No. 3. They tottered their way through a vortex tunnel the length of a football field. Dean had to be quite literally dragged from the room where some ingenious engineer had managed to combine air hockey and bowling.

Towards the end, they walked through a holographic, interactive exhibit of the solar system. Sam studied the rings of Saturn with scholarly intensity. Dean flicked asteroids across space. Cas held the world in his hands, turning Earth this way and that, pondering, with that deep furrow carved into his brow. Pretending disinterest, Crowley wandered towards the sun. He put his hand up to it, felt a muted warmth supplied by some sensory system or other. Pretended, for just a moment, that he was the center of their little universe, rather than second-rate Pluto.

“You ever walk among the stars, Cas?”

The fallen angel looked at him over the top of their world.

“Did you?” He asked, though it wasn’t so much a question as a quiet commiseration, a reminder to them both that they had more in common with one another than with the humans with which they now chose to keep company, to consider family.

They explored every exhibit in the museum, allegedly looking for clues about the case. There would be time for that later, though, once the museum closed. For now, it was admittedly fun to simply wander through and familiarize themselves with the museum.

Maybe, Crowley mused to himself in secret, there was a little bit of childlike wonder in each of them after all. Even in him, if only a little.

The maze of corridors and rooms led the four boys back around to the main entrance, with only one exhibit left. A floor-to-ceiling green screen photo booth, with a touchscreen interface that allowed the museum-goer to choose the background. And large green foam blocks and shapes to maneuver, sit or climb on, hide or lift to create a fully-immersive photo experience. On the opposite wall, the potential photo appeared, allowing photo-takers to see themselves and adjust accordingly. The final photo was available in both digital and print at the museum gift shop.

“Dude! We gotta do this!” Dean was already swiping through the available backgrounds.

“Yes, by all means,” Crowley drawled. “Let’s leave a record of our being here, as well as making fools of ourselves. That will surely never come back around to bite us in the arse.”

“Hey, you know what? You don’t have to be in the photo if you don’t want to be.” Dean replied, with a tone that said he wasn’t about to let the demon ruin his fun. “Me and Sam and Cas? We’re gonna be pirates.”

“Wait,” Sam started to say, “I didn’t agree to – ”

“Come on, Sammy!” Dean called happily over his shoulder. The screen on the opposite wall lit up with the image of a massive pirate ship, floating in what could only be, Crowley realized with some amusement, Mermaid Bay. A jolly roger flew from the mast and a crocodile lurked in the waters below the boat. Trailing among the sails was a sprinkling of golden glitter. Fairy dust.

Crowley shook his head. Neverland, indeed.

With Cas’ confused assistance, Dean stacked and arranged the foam blocks so that he and Sam could appear as if over the railing of the ship. More blocks were stacked to a precarious height, especially given that the blocks had to bear the weight of a grown man, and Dean appeared in the crow’s nest of the ship.

“Check it out!” Dean laughed. “We look awesome! Everyone ready?” He held the remote control clicker in one hand, ready to take the photo.

Crowley looked at the three – Dean up in the crow’s next making a fierce scowl; Sam with his hands up to his eyes, pretending to be looking through a spyglass; Castiel, so eager to go along despite his utter lack of understanding, absolutely beaming at the camera. Little boys at play, all three of them.

Crowley sighed, and stepped into the bottom corner of the green screen. He lifted a foot to “brace” against the open treasure chest resting on the shore, crossed his arms, and offered the camera his most supremely pleased smile.

There was a loud, lens-shutter sound that the exhibit’s child audience would recognize and understand, and then their little tour of the museum was over.

Out in the main entrance, Sam delegated responsibilities, sending Dean and Crowley to interview the museum and library staff turned into children, under the premise of reunited the supposedly lost children with their parents. Sam was going to look into any related lore, and Castiel was to remain at the museum, keep an eye on the staff, and see if he couldn’t ascertain anything that might be of importance.

“Okay, but before we head out,” Dean insisted to Crowley, after they had parted ways with his brother and the angel, “I’mma visit the café, get me one of those cookies. Maybe a nacho-flavored corndog or some astronaut ice cream. You want anything?”

A decent cup of tea was entirely unlikely, so Crowley sent Dean off on his own, with strict instructions to return immediately after obtaining the desired treats, and not go wandering off again into the museum. He even threatened with the possibility of acquiring one of those child leashes, but Dean just laughed, patted him on the shoulder and made off towards the museum café.

In the absence of any unbelieving eyes, Crowley wandered over to the gift shop. He scrolled through the various photos taken from throughout the day in the green screen room. Ostensively to look for anything that might pertain to the case. But when he came to the photo of the four of them, he quietly paid for a digital copy to be sent to one of his private emails. And for a printed one, which he thought would go nicely in a frame and which he might present to Dean later, with the insistence that the photo be hung in Dean’s room or someplace that no one but the four of them might see it. Crowley had a reputation to maintain, after all.

And then, remembering something, Crowley pulled out his phone and opened up his Bumblr app. He checked the date, and smiled to himself. How fortuitous.

He made a new post and tagged one of the supernatural fans with whom he occasionally liked to chat, keeping himself up to date on the fandom and, surprising no one but himself, even making a few friends. This fan also happened to enjoy the work of J.M. Barrie, and Crowley was fairly certain they’d appreciate this particular photo of himself and the boys, who were known to the fandom as rather dedicated Supernatural LARPers. He supposed his reputation could handle a little fun, now and then.

“Happy birthday, @emblue-sparks,” Crowley tapped out under the photo. “From everyone’s favorite ‘boys who refuse to grow up.’”

He clicked post, and smiling, wandered back into the museum in search of Dean.

***

Surprise, Em! Wasn’t sure I was going to get this written in time, but where there is a will, there is a way. Hope you like it and have a wonderful day today! Eat lots of cake for me.

Thanks to everyone for reading! If you’re wondering exactly why – or even how – Crowley became a member of the in-world spn fandom, you can find out here.

#spn #spn ficlet #crowley #one of the boys #dean winchester #sam winchester #castiel #my fic #happy birthday!!!

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vroomian · 4 years ago

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(headdesk slam) Yes, that was 2/2 percent didn’t even realize I forgot to add it in the message until after I sent it and spent like 5 mins internally screaming at myself. I’m a mess of a human being tbh. Really? I’m surprised because it feels like Xi fits perfectly in this AU. Xi as accidental cryptid is the best thing, in both worlds. That’s a relief to hear. My anxiety and I don’t get along so I tend to go to worst possible scenario. You’ll probably regret that soon enough. 1/2

I’m like a magpie if something catches my interest and I’ll fuss over it and go all crazy. Especially now, seeing that you did that hob oneshot and mdzs that is two of the main three bl web novels that I now of. Like, of the three I’ve only fully read svsss and my mind immediately went to wonder where Xi would fit in that verse and at this point he’d totally be where the biggest amount of knowledge is and that my mind went ‘what if Xi was head disciple of Qing Jing Peak?’ 2/?

But that’s pretty unlikely given Xi’s desperate avoidance of feelings, plot, and responsibility. Though I could totally see him as a reluctant head disciple and desperately trying to avoid plot. Plus, definitely the first to notice that something would be off with this new Qingqiu. That said, bullying in his peak would not fly with him so I could see Binghe crushing on this unknown elder disciple.

3/3 I’m sorry I don’t want to make it seem like I want to push you to write another AU when you’ve got enough on your hands. My mind just just went ‘ooh what if this happened?’ And I wanted to share my thoughts with you because I think it’s interesting. So yeah, again feel free to ignore this. I’m like that guy from the meme with the pictures on the wall and red thread when my brain goes nuts lol.

long ask so this goes under the cut

okay there are a million different ways this question could go, because like. is yrz female in this universe? is he male? is he older than the main characters? is he younger? which sect is he living near? is his family nice or assholes? which version of the story is he in? the sssvs version or the actual original demon path novel (or whatever it’s been a while since i read the novel)??? does yrz get a system???

because the answers to those questions change the story drastically

okay so lets do two versions

one: it’s sssvs. yrz has a ‘background character system’ or something. he’s gotta have a system otherwise he wouldn't get without a thousand li of cang qiang sect. so this systems chooses him (lets say he’s a guy in this universe) because its low key and yrz is low key and it was like hey lets be low key together!

lol system.

lol.

but the system and yrz get along pretty well, and they get into the peak they want -- which is Wan Jian peak, because if yrz can’t join the library peak because of Plot reasons, he’s going with hsi second love. Swords! plus i don’t think there are literally any named characters from the story, except the peak lord.

so. timeline wise, i think that none of the peak-lords have ascended yet, so yrz does his natural thing --- he over performs and becomes the head disciple for wan jian peak as consequence and it’s literally just in time for the former peak lords to ascend, so yrz is like. stuck. as a peak lord.

both the system and yrz are horrified and confused as to how this happened. or, no, by then the system understands the Mistake it made in choosing yrz. on paper yrz is very unassuming! but in reality yrz has no chill. he’s never even heard of the concept of chill. he does everything at 110%.

I think that the bulk of this story takes place waaaay before the sssvs cannon, and lbh is sir not appearing in this fic. instead its -- liu qingge! and mu qingfang! both??? both is good! i think he meets lqg first, when he challenges yrz to a spar in the middle of a high stakes missing because lqg is a meathead jock at that age, and yrz is like. no? do your job? dumbass. (yrz has no idea who this shouty brat is, because the system is taking a nap. it wakes up and kicks itself for leaving yrz alone to do stuff.) yrz is older than lqg and kicks his ass because... well. because it’s hilarious really. so he gains a lqg shaped stalker.

yrz has a lot of interest in both sparring and healing, and with lqg following him around, yrz spends a lot of time at the healing peak and meets mqf there. mqf gets a huge crush almost immediately but never said anything. it’s not surprising that yrz quickly bonds with these totally cool new disciples -- and then learns that both of the are the succeeding disciples for their peaks. oops.

system gives up.

version two: bing-ge edition!

no system this time around and yrz stays far far away from the cang qiong. he joins a small sect to learn than fucks off to have adventures by himself as a rouge cultivator. so, male version again BUT yrz gets cursed or something and gets the ability to change gender at will because that’s funny and useful. also you know. porn world written by a “straight” guy. there are reasons for that kind of curse imma just gloss over.

then the plot happens. all of immortal demon path’s many, many chapters are playing around in the background of yrz’s life, but she manages to stay out of it -- until one night yrz gets accidentally recruited by a cult dedicated to bringing down the evil demon lord lbh, because this cult has a book yrz is after. she ends up being used as bait for lbh (because he eats virgins now according to rumors. he’s up to wife number 249 by now so it’s not wrong !)

yrz gets ‘saved’ by lbh, who’s kind of smirking and going ‘oh, no need to thank me, it was what anyone would have done,’ while totally expecting sex. yrz is like ‘oh, cool. bye then.’ and just. takes the book and leaves.

lbh: *surprised pikachu face*

and by the time he registers no sex is going to be happening, yrz is long gone and enjoying her brand new book.

after that, lbh and yrz end up seeing each other (mostly because lbh is trying to impress this woman and nothing is working) and yrz is like stop being a creep, i’m not interested in you. lbh needs to drink his respect woman juice and downsize on his harem a bit. yrz wouldn’t touch that with a twenty foot pool.

anyway i think it comes to a head when they both get doused in pa pa pa juice and lbh is like oh this is more familiar, shall we? and yrz is like bitch. and goes to a brothel in the city instead. at this point yrz and lbh are more like antagonistic buddies than anything else. lbh has too many wives and zero friends.

lbh starts developing some squishy feelings and is like what the fuck is this?? gross?? but he says nothing because he doesn’t get it.

then the cross over happens, bing-ge vs bing-mei!!! and after than happens, yrz is just chilling at home and lbh shows up at her place like really fucked up and subdued. he’s like ‘why him? why did he get the good teacher? what did he do right?’

yrz is like... hm. emotions. ew. she trys anyway because she’s finally ready to admit that she does like this trash goblin at least a little. so she takes care of him while he’s being depressed. lbh cooks for her and she’s like. this is so fucking good. thank you.

and lbh is just in love now. it’s nothing like he feels for his wives, but yrz makes lbh feels safe and accepted. it’s a comforting and comfortable love. yrz’s stupid little house is more of a home than lbh’s stupid palaces.

look. i stand by the head cannon that all lbh wants is to be a househusband, no matter what version im talking about.

lbh vanishes for a whole night. yrz is like hm, my house feels empty now. weird! and then lbh comes back and announces that he just divorced all his wives. he doesn’t want to be powerful anymore so can i stay herer with you.

yrz is like... sure.

and then there’s a long, long courtship and lbh marries yrz and archives his dream of just being fucking happy. the end!

#rivaladmirer21 #vrrm writes #so many possibilities #this universe is so funny #i can't decide which one i like better #svsss

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xmxisxforxmaybe · 5 years ago

Text

Decryption_Error: “Beneath the Bright Lights”

Summary: As the holiday season begins, Y/N sees a side of Elliot she had nearly forgotten about. However, Darlene is able to hit the reset button for her brother, and Elliot and Y/N end up having a memorable, happy holiday season.

Decryption_Error: All Chapters

A/N: ** Lines/Story credited to the show, not me.

Word Count: 9100

Tags: @sherlollydramoine @rami-malek-trash @teamwolf2411 @limabein @txmel @alottanothing @ouatlovr @backoftheroomandnotbelonging @moon-stars-soul @free-rami @ramimedley @hopplessdreamer @sweet-charmie @polarcrystall @hah0106

If you want added, removed, or if I’ve missed your request, let me know : )

Warnings: Angst, Verbal attack, Marijuana use, Smut (18+ up, please)

Gif Credit: @s-k-y-w-a-l-k-e-r

“We could just . . . not pick her up?”

“She’ll love the organized chaos of a high-society social. Maybe she can even do some networking?”

Even though I couldn’t see it, I knew Elliot rolled his eyes; I chuckled and lightly smacked his shoulder with the back of my hand.

We were on our way to pick up Darlene before heading to my parents’ house in Greenwich to kick off the first event of the holiday social season. Every year, on the Saturday before Thanksgiving, Dad hosted a party for the members of the board and his investors. It was a way to maintain relationships, form new ones, and offer a thank you to everyone who helped with the company’s growth.

The general public was committed to its characterization of what it was like to be an owner of a company on Wall Street—bouncing from meeting to meeting before sitting in an office to bark out orders like a ringmaster in a circus, whose priority was not to entertain but to squeeze the most money out of every person in the tent or to squeeze every ounce of productivity out of every employee. In reality, owning a company meant maintaining a huge social jerk, a near-constant stroking of egos in order to reassure some of the most insecure people, who also happened to be some of the most wealthy people, that you weren’t going to lose the most important thing to them: their money.

This party was especially important because Dad was announcing his retirement. Normally, this created a drop off in stocks because people panicked. Out with the stability they had always known and in with something new. If there was anything people with money hated (aside from parting with it), it was change.

And Elliot wasn’t interested in any of it—he didn’t understand the need for it. Or perhaps it wasn’t that he didn’t understand it, but that he didn’t approve of it and was not willing to risk hurting my feelings to say so.

I had just returned from a business trip in Denver, and I was so insanely paranoid there would be another attack while I was gone. I was the one who had to deal with the brunt of the board and didn’t want to risk placing that kind of pressure on the new Senior Manager, JaLeah, or even Ali. But as of this evening, there were no further cyberattacks on our company. In fact, DoS attacks were down by 15%. Typically, there are surge of attacks close to the holidays like there had been on the Fourth of July.

Elliot’s voice startled me out of my thoughts, asking, “How many people are going to be there?”

“Many, many people, but since it’s at our house, you can hide in my room when you’ve had enough. You look handsome, by the way.”

He was wearing light gray pants, a nice slim-fit chino. He had donned a navy sweater over a white dress shirt and tamed his hair into a side part. He looked nice, normal, at least in the way I knew he envisioned normal.

He reached over and took my hand, pulling it into his lap so he could lace his fingers through mine.

“I missed you.”

“It’s a shame we have to spend my first night back surrounded by other people.”

“Are you tired?”

“Exhausted,” I breathed as I pulled in front of the building where Darlene was staying and threw my flashers on while we waited for her to come out. She wasn’t long, and I reached behind my seat to fish in my overnight bag for the black heels I promised her.

Darlene had her hair pulled up in a ballerina bun and her makeup looked flawless. Her dress was black, fitted, and fairly short with long, lace sleeves. She was currently accessorizing it with a worn pair of high-top chucks.

“You look gorgeous—even with the chucks,” I said as I dangled my heels. “These are the ones you tried on the other night.”

“Perfect,” she mumbled as she unlaced her shoes.

“Feeling conservative, tonight?” Elliot smirked as he peeked around his seat.

“Shut your face, Sweater Vest,” she retorted without looking up.

“I’m not wearing a sweater-vest.”

“Whatever, Mr. Tanner. Isn’t this what rich people look like? Basic black and heels and shit?”

“Is that what I look like to you?” I asked mildly offended and majorly concerned that I looked like a caricature.

Neither Elliot nor Darlene said anything for so long I actually guffawed.

Elliot laughed softly and pulled our still laced together hands to his mouth and pressed a quick kiss to the top of my wrist.

“You look good. You always look nice.”

“Mmm,” I said, unconvinced as I pulled my hand from his grasp to put the car in drive.

We chatted on our way out of the city, mostly about the party and about our childhood Thanksgivings. I found myself scaling back the details of my own in the event that it would seem obnoxiously normal; I didn’t want to feel like I was throwing my happy childhood in their faces. However, it did seem they had some normality with Angela and her parents, always ditching their own house in favor of hers, especially before her mom died.

When we crept up the drive, the party was already in full swing in the heated tents in the backyard, so I pulled into the garage so we could sneak in our bags. The house was full of caterers and servers, so we quickly dashed upstairs.

I flicked on the light to Charlie’s room, which was closest to mine, and Darlene threw her bag on his bed, her eyes taking in the bedroom.

“If you ever need a house sitter, I better be your first call.”

“My parents are actually downsizing their place in the city and moving out here. I can’t remember if I mentioned it, but tonight’s the night Dad announces his retirement.”

“Is that, like, a big deal?” Darlene asked.

“For several million reasons, it is.”

Darlene nodded and said she was going to use the bathroom, if she could find it, she muttered as she flicked on the light to Char’s closet.

“It’s on your other left,” I laughed as I went to my room.

Elliot was on the balcony which overlooked the party. With my heels on, I was just a bit taller than him so I wrapped my arms around his waist and rested my chin on his shoulder.

“Are you going to be cool with all of this? It won’t be as stuffy as the last few parties I made you go to.”

“I’m surprised the tent is big enough to house all of that ego.”

I turned into his neck and inhaled the familiar scent of his aftershave.

“Because you, Mr. Hackerpants, have no ego at all,” I teased before pressing my lips to his neck.

“I don’t use my skills to rob the masses blind.”

I loosened my grip on his waist and stepped back.

“You don’t have to go. I just thought it would be nice if the family was there for Dad’s announcement.”

Even with my loosened grip, I felt Elliot’s body tense. I let him go and he turned to face me, leaning back against the railing.

“I’m family?”

I shrugged, unable to meet his eyes because I feared his rejection when I answered, “Yeah. We consider you a part of our clan now.”

Elliot sighed and stepped forward, his finger moving to lift my chin.

His polychromatic eyes were a swirl of blue and grey tonight, making them seem almost ethereal in the flickering lights from below and the back light from my room. I couldn’t quite read his expression, which seemed to be something I struggled with a lot lately. I wasn’t sure why, but Elliot wasn’t the open book he was when I first met him. Long ago I had theorized that he hadn’t learned to guard himself from me in the early stages of our relationship, like the night we first had sex. His vulnerability had once been laid bare to me, but it was almost always gone now and I sometimes wondered if I had projected, idealized the version of Elliot I wanted to see, the version that needed me.

Elliot tilted his head slightly up and kissed me, a soft sweet kiss.

“Okay,” he whispered against my lips before he pulled away.

Darlene’s clicking heels on the hardwood floor interrupted the moment and we turned to meet her, ready to head to the party.

Dad’s announcement went over well since he said he’d remain on the board for at least two more years. His replacement was a company favorite, a man not entirely unlike Miles with his perfect reputation and his ambition to climb, but I thought he was a good choice, a safe choice.

I left toward the end of the party, my face tired from the banal talk and the even more banal smiles. When I went upstairs to my room after grabbing a spoon, a can of caviar from the fridge, and a sleeve of crackers, Darlene was laying across the end of the bed sorting a pile of business cards.

“Oh! You did some networking?” I said as I emptied my hands and reached to open the caviar. I prepped a cracker and walked over to Darlene before popping it in my mouth.

“Networking for that rich D,” she said with a smirk.

I swallowed, barely holding back a laugh, “Even better!”

I leaned over to take a look at her pile and frowned.

“Can I help?”

“Have at it,” she said as slid off the bed and headed to the caviar.

“Married. Married. Married.” I said as I tossed those cards to the side.

“This one broke Char’s heart last season, so he’s maybe bi? Maybe in denial?”

“Toss. I don’t want your brother’s sloppy seconds,” Darlene said.

“Fair enough,” I agreed as I continued. “He’s nice. Nice. Holy fuck—”

Darlene grinned like a cat as I held up the most coveted number in my social circle. Alexander Strömberg was gorgeous, perpetually single, a tech genius, and a self-made billionaire.

“He overhead me talking about cryptojacking, hypothetically, of course, and before I knew it, he was fetching me a drink and holding my elbow like I was my fair fucking lady. We talked. And we totally made out by the pool.”

I made an incomprehensible noise between a sigh and a slight moan. “He’s gorgeous. And smart as a whip.”

Darlene raised her brow, “He did say he knew you . . .”

“We’ve crossed paths over the years,” I said, looking toward Elliot who didn’t seem to be listening to a thing we were saying. “But neither of us ever made anything of it.”

Darlene finished another cracker before she gathered up her pile of business cards, throwing the ones I warned her about in the trash. She stretched and said she was going to find her way to the kitchen to find something more substantial than “fancy-ass” caviar. I gave her directions and she waved, not bothering to glance back as she headed downstairs.

I stretched out in her vacated spot and used my feet to kick off my heels. I glanced up, angling my head to look at Elliot as his fingers never paused in their trajectory over the keys of his laptop. He had dipped out not long after Dad’s announcement, and he hadn’t even glanced up when I came upstairs. His sweater had been discarded and his white button down was open, revealing his white undershirt.

“I hate these things. But I’m glad everyone knows about Dad’s retirement. I was tired of keeping that secret.”

“Didn’t look like you hated it.”

“I can assure you, I did. Now everyone thinks I’m maneuvering for a position in Dad’s company. I felt like a broken record repeating that I have no interest in leaving the tech side of things.”

“My heart bleeds for you.”

I sat up on my elbows and stared at Elliot, disbelieving of his cold tone.

“What?”

Elliot huffed and looked up from his laptop, and there was an edginess in him I hadn’t seen since Sarah had texted him about the server room. Anger seemed to be surging under his skin, humming.

Elliot’s eyes locked on mine, unwavering in their brutality before they flicked to the ceiling as he leaned his head back and stated, “Why the fuck should I sit here and listen to a rich little girl complain about doing rich people things? Do you understand everyone in that room tonight could cut their salaries in half and still have more money than they could spend in a lifetime? That everyone here, at this house, your house, could effectively end the desperate paycheck-to-paycheck struggles of every person who works for them? I don’t give a fuck if you’re tired from smiling at shitty jokes and drinking expensive champagne and eating fucking caviar.”

“What the fuck, Elliot?” I said as I slid off the bed and stood, the blood rushing to my ears, roaring with the humiliation that was coloring my cheeks red.

He rolled his eyes and shut his laptop, tossing it on the bed beside him as he stood to unbutton the cuffs of his dress shirt. I took a step back, and he didn’t even glance up as he popped the buttons and shrugged out of the sleeves.

“Elliot? Seriously! What the hell was that?”

He brushed past me and walked over to his backpack and dug out a pack of cigarettes. Without looking at me again, he went on to the balcony and lit up.

As I stood dumbfounded and staring at his silhouette, Darlene walked in, saying she forgot her phone as she walked over to my nightstand. When she processed the look on my face and read the tension in the room, she asked, “What’s up?” as her eyes looked between me and her brother on the balcony.

“Nothing,” I mumbled as I looked away and moved toward my desk.

“Tell me. Please,” she added as she stepped in front of me.

“It’s nothing,” I said as I stepped around her and gathered up the caviar and crackers and tossed them into the trash, disgust churning in my gut.

“Elliot’s clearly pulled a dumbass move. If we can’t talk to each other, who can we talk to?” she pleaded, her eyes, so like his, boring into the back of my head.

I pressed my lips together and inhaled, steadying my nerves as I turned to her and explained, “He’s not . . . himself. I haven’t seen him like this for months—I don’t know if I’ve ever seen him this . . . mean,” I finished as I blinked quickly, holding back tears because Elliot certainly didn’t deserve them.

Darlene frowned and for once she didn’t bite out a sarcastic remark. She seemed far away in her thoughts when she finally said, “Think I’ll have a smoke, too. You mind grabbing me a water? Sorta forgot to get one when I was talking to your parents.”

I took the hint and was relieved to get out of the room. My legs felt shaky as I made my way down the hallway, and when I descended the steps, my hand clung tightly to the rail as I continued to fight the urge to cry as Elliot’s dark words pierced through my mind, seemingly stuck in a belligerent loop.

I took a deep breath and steeled my features before I went into the kitchen and made light, normal conversation with my mom and dad.

Even after my parents said goodnight, I sat in the kitchen, replaying what Elliot said. It wasn’t the first time he had expressed himself about socioeconomic division, but it was certainly the first time I understood that he did not separate me from my parents’ wealthy status. I thought Elliot saw me just for me, but tonight proved I was wrong.

Darlene walked quietly into the kitchen and I looked up, not bothering to hide my hurt.

“Is Elliot asleep?”

“Nah. He’s waiting to see you.”

“I don’t want to see him.”

“I don’t blame you, Y/N,” she said, her expression soft as she approached me. “But please don’t give up on him now. Just . . . hear him out.”

I frowned and thought about all the times I swore to myself that I’d be someone Elliot trusted, someone he could count on, someone who wouldn’t leave him.

I nodded and gave her shoulder a squeeze before I grabbed two waters from the fridge. The walk to my room was long as dread settled heavily in my stomach.

Elliot was sitting on the bed facing the doorway as his feet dangled off the floor thanks to the high bedframe. The first thing I noticed was that the change in his demeanor was so stark it nearly made me take a step back. Gone was the edginess, the closed off body language, the skittish glances. In front of me was the Elliot I could read like a book, and when he didn’t raise his head to meet my eyes, I knew he was in the same state of misery as I was.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N,” his voice quiet, a deep sadness wrapping up every word.

“You hurt me.”

Elliot looked up, a flicker of relief on his face that I was being direct with him. He had trouble with ambiguity, especially when it came to feelings.

“I don’t want you to bury your feelings, ever. This life—my life—I know it fucks with your moral compass, the idea that anyone rich can’t be good. But fuck, Elliot. You really came at me, at my family, who, in case you forgot, consider you family, too.”

I was starting to feel angry.

“I know. And I am sorry.”

“I know.”

Elliot scooted forward and stood, taking a few tentative steps toward me.

“Do you have any idea what kind of people were at that party?”

“Good people. Bad people. In-between people. Money doesn’t change that.”

“Philip Price from E Corp was here.”

“Yeah? I’ve known him since I was little. E Corp financed Dad’s manufacturing plant in Colorado—the one that employs over 600 people, in case that mattered,” I sniped.

Elliot said nothing but came closer, watching my face and imploring me to remember—and then it hit me as effectively as a slap across the face.

“Your dad worked for E Corp before he got sick.”

“As a software engineer.”

Despite my anger, I softened, knowing what Elliot’s dad meant to him and to Darlene, as much as she remembered of him.

“What aren’t you telling me?”

“He’s not the only one who got cancer. Angela’s mom, too. And there were over 20 others. All of them working out of E Corp’s Washington Township facility.”

I took some time to think about what I wanted to say next, my anger at Elliot continuing to recede.

“Are you saying E Corp was at fault?”

“Yes.”

“Have you . . . looked into it?” I asked, avoiding directly knowing whether he hacked the shit out of the biggest conglomerate on Wall Street.

“Yes.”

“And?”

“Nothing. There’s no conclusive evidence E Corp was involved.”

I shifted my weight as I thought about whether I wanted to offer my help, the last seeds of my anger dissipating as I looked at Elliot’s sad face.

“Do you—I don’t know how far I could get, but do you want me to look into it?”

“I’ve already—"

“Sure, digitally, you’ve . . . researched it. But sometimes the paper trail can . . . disappear.”

Elliot looked at me for a long time and I would’ve given anything to know what he was thinking as he formulated what he wanted to say, or rather, what he was willing to say.

“I would appreciate that.”

“Oh, Elliot,” I said as I closed the tentative distance between us and wrapped him up in a hug which he returned with equal fervor.

“I feel like I have no control sometimes,” Elliot whispered into my hair. “Everything is out of my control.”

I laughed lightly into his shoulder.

“Control is an illusion, El. No one ever really has it.”**

Elliot’s grip tightened on me, and I fell into his embrace, letting myself believe his apology and naively, so naively believe this was the last of the anger and the apologies.

* Christmas Eve *

My apartment was so hot I debated turning on the air conditioning until Elliot suggested opening the balcony door.

I flung the door open as Elliot came up behind me, pushing me onto the balcony, almost tackling me into the railing.

I laughed and he turned me around his arms, his face split into a grin as he leaned in to sloppily kiss me.

He was drunk, I was drunk, and so was everyone else still at my Christmas Eve party.

Angela and Ollie had stopped by earlier, but they had made a pretty short evening of it. I hadn’t yet clicked with Angela, mostly because she focused all of her attention on Elliot as soon as she saw him. I told him he should hang out with her more often, but a part of me was relieved when he said he really didn’t want to. I didn’t push for an explanation.

Franco and his wife, Gianna, Jill and Jack, along with Darlene and a few more friends were all in attendance. Darlene’s sometimes more-than-friend, a good-looking stockbroker, stopped by around the same time as Angela and Ollie.

Erin, Ryan, and Charlie came, and since Kathleen was on-call, Josh brought Jared and Jack, who both competed with Elliot for the attention of Jack and Jill’s dog, Robert Goulet.

My parents stopped by for a little while, insisting they weren’t going to crash the good times of “the youth” for long.

I expected Elliot to stick to either me or Darlene, but he didn’t. Instead, he spent a long time talking to Franco about his business. Elliot had said once that he would like to do that someday; start up his own cybersecurity business, land a few big clients to pay the bills, but then operate pro-bono for as many small businesses as he could.

I offered him the start-up money and he promptly looked like I had just slaughtered a bag full of puppies, so that was the end of that conversation.

Things had been normal—we had a happy thanksgiving with my family, then Elliot invited me to go with him and Darlene to visit their mother. Darlene went as far as the lobby, but I went to Mrs. Alderson’s room with Elliot. She had suffered a debilitating stroke, most likely caused by smoking, and was mostly catatonic, her eyes only occasionally flicking to Elliot as he sat with her.

Elliot and I never really talked about what happened in my room after the social, so I considered Elliot letting me in to his life by taking me to meet his mother as a way of sincerely apologizing.

But by visiting his mother, Elliot opened a door I was dying to peek into. I tried to open the door and ask more about his relationship with her, but he slammed it shut. For the past few days, I had been warring with myself with whether or not to suggest he go to therapy, and I decided my best bet was to ask Darlene what she thought he’d say if I suggested it.

It was almost 2 am when I finally kissed Jill, Jack, and Robert Goulet goodnight, but I wasn’t the last person to kiss Mr. Goulet. Elliot carried him to the elevator and I had never seen him look so adoringly at anything, but the way he looked at Robert Goulet as he handed him over to Jill was heartbreaking.

Robert Goulet didn’t help matters either by looking back, upside-down at Elliot and giving him a sad, big-eyed glance. Elliot leaned forward and smooched Robert Goulet between the eyes and Jill yelled at me to take Elliot to the shelter to pick out a puppy.

I shook my head and sighed as Elliot waved goodbye as the elevator doors shut. Jill and Jack gave a wave but I knew sure as shit that Elliot was waving at their dog.

“You can see Robert Goulet anytime you want,” I said as Elliot turned around looking sad.

“I love him.”

“I can see that.”

“He’s such a good boy.”

“He is. I take it you and Darlene never had pets?”

Elliot’s expression darkened and he shook his head no.

“Are there any Jell-O shots left?”

“If you didn’t eat them all,” I said with a laugh as Elliot headed back inside to raid the fridge.

Just as I shut the door, I saw that Darlene was shrugging into her coat. She was the last to leave, but I begged her not to.

“Don’t go. I can’t stand the thought of you not being with people who love you on Christmas morning.”

I didn’t miss the way her eyes lingered on mine, an unspoken question of whether I meant what I said.

“Stay,” I pressed.

“If you’re gonna be so up my ass about it,” Darlene said with the least unaggressive huff I’d ever heard, so I smiled and walked over to her give her a big hug and a loud kiss on the temple.

“Eat chips with me,” I said, grinning.

She giggled, clearly still drunk, but not quite as drunk as her brother.

“That dog is really fucking cute,” Darlene said as she gathered up the pita chips and the layered hummus dip.

“His name,” specified Elliot as he hollowed out his cheeks and sucked down the last Jell-O shot, “is Robert Goulet.”

Darlene laughed at the offense dripping in Elliot’s voice.

I giggled at the two of them as I slid my chip through the dip and ended up miscalculating the dip to chip ratio, half of it landing with a splat on the floor.

“Fuck,” I said, contemplating whether I should still eat it.

“I got you,” Elliot said as he stumbled over with a wad of napkins, some of them trailing behind him as he miscalculated his hand to napkin ratio.

He cleaned up the dip and I thanked him when he came back and plopped on the sofa. His eyes immediately slid shut and he had a dreamy smile on his face as he leaned back into the cushion.

“He’s dreaming about that dog,” I loudly whispered to Darlene.

“I know,” she loudly whispered in return.

As Darlene and I chattered and ate entirely too many pita chips, she eventually looked around me to give her brother a wary eye.

“El—you alive over there?”

I turned to look as he jumped a bit at being addressed and vaguely hummed in response.

“Go to bed, dork,” Darlene barked as Elliot opened his bloodshot eyes.

He shuffled to the edge of the couch and looked around like he had forgotten where he was.

“Those Jell-O shots are lethal,” I said with a grin. “And you had a whole fucking tray’s worth when you weren’t laying on the floor with Robert Goulet.”

“Robert Goulet,” Elliot sighed with a half-smile as he shook his head and stood, stumbling just a little.

“Fuck,” he muttered, as he wobbled. “Night.”

We watched Elliot walk in a semi-zigzag down the hall. There was a questionable thump that caused us to giggle loud enough before Elliot swung the bedroom door shut.

“Guess he’s alright,” I said at the end of my laugh.

“He’s fine,” Darlene said with a roll of her eyes.

“I’m glad you’re staying,” I said as I moved into Elliot’s spot, stretching my legs out.

“Thanks for asking me to,” Darlene said with a soft smile that looked just like her brother’s.

“Water?” I asked, reluctantly swinging my feet off the couch.

“I think it’s about that time,” she said, laying her head back on the couch, again, much like her brother.

I glanced up at the TV as I walked back into the living room and handed Darlene a bottle of water. The TV was still softly playing Christmas songs as a fire burned on the screen.

The fake fireplace made me realize it was awfully chilly, and I walked over to shut and lock the balcony door.

When I sat down, I looked at Darlene who had turned her head to watch my movements.

“Spill. You look like Elliot—I can see the indecisive hesitation just about making your head ready to pop off.”

“I don’t know if I’m not drunk enough or if I’m too drunk to ask.”

“That serious? Gotta be about my bonehead of a brother. I swear to god if you’re thinking about breaking up with him, I’ll kick his ass.”

“Kick his ass?” I laughed.

“Yes—because somehow I know he’ll end up fucking this up. Not to, like, shit on your relationship because I hope to fuck he doesn’t fuck it up, but I’m just saying—”

“I know what you mean. You’re a good sister. And a great friend.”

“Don’t get sentimental on me now, Y/N. Spill.”

I took a long drink of my water and put the lid back on, stretching to set the bottle on the coffee table before I settled back into the sofa.

I took a deep breath and asked what I had wanted to ask Darlene since she and I really became friends.

“Did your brother ever tell you about the incident in the Server Room?”

“You mean how you saved his ass from getting fired?”

“About what he did after he got locked in.”

Darlene took a deep breath, her hands in her lap as her chip lay idle in her fingertips.

“He told me that those guys, like, played a prank or something—locked him in with the servers because he kept hacking through their security protocols. He said he lost it and the next thing he knew, you were there. Like a fucking knight in shining armor,” she said, her voice just hinting at being teasing.

I scoffed.

“He didn’t say that,” Darlene said with an eyeroll, “but that’s what he meant. He thinks you hung the moon, Y/N. I’ve never seen him like this.”

“Happy?”

“Not since we were kids. And even then it was less . . . consistent.”

“He didn’t say anything else about that night?”

“No,” Darlene answered, her eyes boring into mine just like Elliot’s.

“I need you to be absolutely positive he didn’t say anything else—are you totally sure?”

“Yes. I am positive that’s all he said. Why?”

After a pause, my explanation came out in a bit of a rush.

“Elliot has no memory of smashing up the towers. When I found him, he was blacked out. I thought it was the head gash, but Jill assured me it wasn’t. She—she rattled off a few things that could cause a person to black out like that.”

“Yeah?”

“Anxiety attack, a reaction to traumatic stress, dissociative or dissociative identity disorder, or,” I paused, “schizophrenia.”

Darlene was quiet.

“The first time I remember it happening was when I was like six, maybe seven. My grandmother came to visit, Dad’s mom, and she was showing us all these pictures from when Dad was little. I remember thinking about how much Elliot looked like him as a kid and being a little jealous because I didn’t. Anyway, my grandmother started to cry and she told Elliot how much Dad loved him, how special he was to him, and Elliot just froze before he started screaming. He told her to shut up and a bunch of shit I can’t really remember, but Mom got so pissed. She dragged Elliot upstairs and locked him in his room.”

It felt like I had swallowed lead as I listened to Darlene, the knot of leaden nerves growing heavier as she continued.

“Once Mom was in bed, I stole her key and took Elliot dinner. He was just laying in his bed, facing the wall like he hadn’t moved all day. I remember—”

Darlene faltered for the first time in her story.

“I remember,” she said finding her voice again, “the look on Elliot’s face when he rolled over. He asked, ‘Did Mom lock me in?’”

“I told him, yeah, she did, and he asked why she hated him so much.”

“I said that maybe it was because he yelled at our grandmother, and I’ll never forget the way he looked at me because I’ve seen it enough times now. He looked at me like he had no idea what I was talking about—like I had just told him some horrible truth he had no knowledge of.”

“So, he’s blacked out since he was little?”

“I’m not sure how young, but that’s the first time I remember it happening.”

“And has—has he ever been to therapy?”

“Definitely in high school. I remember mom being livid when she found out he met with the school’s psychologist once a week.

I don’t know what it was about Elliot that always set her off. It was like he couldn’t ever do anything right. I mean, she was a fucking bitch to me, too, but all of her anger was concentrated on him. It was like he was her trigger.”

“Did she,” I stopped and paused. “This is hard to ask outright. Did she . . . hurt either of you?”

“When I was, like, 8, I found this kitten. Gray and black with four perfectly white paws. She was so little, so I snuck her into my room, even named her. Moonpie,” Darlene said with a wistful smile. “Anyway, I built a little space for her in the backyard and that’s when Mom found out. She threw us in the car, went in and got Elliot, then drove to a lake. She said—she said I had to drown the cat so I would remember that actions have consequences, and disobeying her meant a consequence. I fucking took the cat and ran for it and found her a home far away from that monster.**

I’ve got a million stories like that,” Darlene finished, finally flicking her eyes to mine. “She was a stone-cold bitch.”

I was quiet while I processed Darlene’s story, thinking it alone confirmed why she stayed in the lobby when we visited her mom.

“I don’t want to push Elliot, but there’s something he’s not telling me. Maybe not telling any of us.”

“If you push him, you could lose him. That’s all I’m going to say. How important is it for him to tell you—or us—or anyone?”

“That night at my parents’ house,” I began. “That wasn’t the first time Elliot lost his temper with me.”

Darlene huffed, “That wasn’t—fuck. I don’t know how to explain it, but that wasn’t the same. Trust me. When he really loses it, you’ll know.”

“And he never remembers?”

“No.”

“Do you think it’s an act? A way to release aggression without suffering the consequence?”

“Y/N—this is the most normal I’ve ever seen my brother. Before you, there was nothing. No one. He stayed in and jacked around on his computer. What would be the point of putting on an act for years? It’s not like he was protecting some perfect life.”

“I don’t know. Had to ask,” I said with a shrug.

“I’m just saying that he’s happy now. He’s in a good place—you are a good place.”

“I do feel like he is happy now, but I can’t stop thinking about what happens when he’s not. What if he gets depressed again? What if something does happen between us that isn’t fixable? Then he blames himself and it all goes to shit—again. How many times is he going to go through that cycle before he moves forward and stays in a forward momentum?”

I . . . want to ask him to talk to someone, a therapist, or whatever. Just . . . someone. How do you think he’ll react? Or should I just forget it?”

Darlene sighed as she thought, and I could see her nibbling her bottom lip.

“He trusts you. If anyone can suggest it, it’s you.”

“But should I?”

“I don’t know, Y/N. I mean, yeah. He’s got a fuckton of baggage, but I hate to stir shit up when he’s happy.”

“We shouldn’t have to walk on eggshells. No one’s happiness should be that fragile . . . that temporary.”

Darlene shrugged.

“Just maybe give me a warning before the shit hits the fan so I can get the fuck outta here.”

I laughed softly.

“You always assume the worst—and I get it. Well, I mean I think I understand it. I didn’t live through what you’ve lived through. And hey—this isn’t just about Elliot. If you ever need anything or anyone to unleash on, I’m here.”

Darlene looked at me and nodded her head, almost imperceptibly.

“I’ve made my peace with my shit childhood. But sometimes—"

I waited expectantly.

“Sometimes I wonder how much of it really fucked me up. I don’t—I don’t trust anyone. Like, ever.”

“Are you sure you don’t want a job?”

“What?”

“Considering what you do, I’m not surprised you feel like you have to look over your shoulder all the time. Even if you wanted to just set up a legit business for yourself, I could help you do that. Maybe you wouldn’t feel like everything was about to crash in on you at any moment. You could be totally independent.”

Darlene looked at me like I was crazy.

“You legit see the good in everything, don’t you?”

“I see the bad, but I choose to ignore as much of it as I can. I used to . . . not. That was one of the best things I learned from my therapist. She helped me climb over that wall of impending doom. Granted, it’s still there at times, but she taught me how to confront those feelings so they don’t paralyze me. I know my demons are nothing compared to yours or Elliot’s, and I know I have it easy because I can always rely on my parents to help me. But that kind of thinking leads to its own sort of darkness.”

I just want Elliot to be happy, really happy. And you, too.”

“Thanks. I don’t know if you realize what it’s like to just have someone care. That’s why I love Elliot so much—he’s always cared about me. I’ve never doubted that.”

“You shouldn’t. He loves you.”

“I haven’t always been the best sister.”

“None of us are—we have the longest relationships of our lives with our siblings. We are bound to fuck it up with them on occasion.”

Darlene laughed before growing serious again.

“Just promise me this?”

I nodded.

“If he bails on you, tries to push you away, don’t let him because it’s not really . . . it’s not really him.”

“Okay,” I promised.

“Think Elliot’ll be mad if we open a present early?”

“Oh, no way! Absolutely not! In fact, off to bed with you. Santa has to stuff the stockings.”

Darlene gave me a look of suppressed confusion and happiness, her mouth turning up in a sort of quirky smirk.

“Are you for real with this happy Christmas shit?”

“Yes—go to bed.”

Darlene shakes her head and slides off the sofa. She offers to help me clean up, but I tell her to get some sleep.

“Merry fucking Christmas,” Darlene says as hugs me.

“Santa is going to leave you coal,” I said as I gave her a final squeeze and she told me to shove it.

* New Year’s *

“I’m glad it’s just the two of us tonight. I feel like it’s been a whirlwind of parties and people.”

I brought Elliot his drink, enjoying the soft glow of the Christmas lights that sparkled on the tree Elliot helped me choose and trim. My apartment was over-decorated with lights and garland and the woodsy smell of pine was still strong because Elliot had gotten caught up in the holiday spirit, only pulling back when I told him it was all fun and games until it was time to take it all down.

Elliot’s bright, grey eyes were trained on my face as he said, “Because it has been. I’ve never socialized this much in my life and I don’t even know who the fuck I am anymore.”

“Excellent! I hope I’ve ruined you for any other person,” I said with a confident grin.

“That’s a guarantee. I’ve never been—” Elliot slammed his mouth shut and it would’ve been comical except for the look of horror on his face.

“Don’t do that.”

He shook his head.

“You can’t wait for the hammer to fall all the time. It’s a horrible way to live. You’ve never been what—say it.”

It’s clear Elliot is at war with himself in a Hamletian parody: to tell me, or not to tell me.

I huffed and leaned in to kiss him.

“You’ve never been . . .” I trailed off, a smile on my face as I placed kisses, playful and feathery, all over his face until I started teasing him with little licks under his jaw and down his neck.

“Come on, El. You’ve never been . . .”

I worked my fingers under his shirt and ghosted them along his stomach, feeling the muscles twitch as he fought not to giggle.

“Hap—hap—happier!” Elliot laughs out, unable to take my torture any longer. “I’ve never been happier.”

I grinned at him, his outburst before Thanksgiving feeling like it was a thousand miles in the past, nearly buried after the happy holiday season.

“This reminds me of Memorial Day weekend,” I said, looking over Elliot’s head as I reminisced.

“Oh yeah?”

“Do you remember? After that big meal we made together? We talked and smoked—and cuddled.”

“You told me you wanted to stop time,” Elliot said, looking at me with the slightest smile.

“Because you had me all fucked up.”

“All fucked up.”

“Don’t move—we’ve got one more Christmas present to open,” I said as I hopped up and went to dig around in the opened gifts still under the tree. I hated to put Christmas away until I absolutely had to.

“Here it is,” I mumbled as I pulled the plain black box out of the Kate Spade tote Erin had gifted me.

The commotion on the television drew my attention as I realized we had about a minute until the ball dropped. I placed the black box on the coffee table and looked at Elliot.

“It’s almost midnight,” I said with a smile.

“Yeah? You wanna kiss me or something?”

“I do,” I said with a smile. “This is an important kiss, after all.”

“Oh?”

“A kiss at midnight means we’ll be together for the next year.”

“So you believe in superstitions now?”

“Listen,” I whispered, pulling Elliot onto his feet.

Elliot looked toward the TV as the ball began to drop. When he turned his eyes to mine, I was lost, lost as I realized they were nothing more than a reflection of my own deep happiness.

“3, 2, 1—”

Elliot’s lips crashed onto mine and he kissed me until I was light-headed, straining for gasping little breaths, unwilling to break this moment.

“Happy New Year,” Elliot breathed as he rested his forward against mine.

“Happy New Year,” I echoed.

“I never thought,” Elliot said with a surprising burst of laughter, “I never thought I’d be sharing a New Year’s kiss with . . . anyone,” he finished as he tugged me along with him back onto the couch, both of us plopping down in a bit of a tangle.

I looked at Elliot’s perfect three-point grin and felt my heart skip a beat.

“I think I’ve gained weight,” Elliot chuckled, shifting on the couch as his jeans strained against his normally damn near concave stomach.

“Guess you’re just going to have to forego pants until you lose those stubborn holiday pounds?”

“Oh?” Elliot said, but this time his voice was husky, a seductive purr as he reached for the button on his jeans, sliding it open and opening his pants.

I laughed, “Is this a glimpse into our future? Late nights on the sofa in front of the TV, your pants popped open because you ate too much?”

“Would that be a terrible fate for you?”

“No,” I said, smiling as I leaned in to kiss him lightly.

“What’s in the box?” Elliot asked as he peeked over my shoulder.

“Oh—shit!”

I pulled back and reached around to the coffee table, grabbing the box.

“A little present from Erin—would you like to do the honors?”

Elliot smirked and reached for the box, quickly pulling the lid off. He chuckled as he looked at the perfectly packed, pretty fat joints.

“More than a little present, I’d say,” he stated.

“This is a perfect opportunity to recreate our Memorial Day weekend. Thanks, sis,” I grinned as I got up to find a lighter.

Elliot and I each worked our way through a joint. It was good weed, and my state of consciousness quickly gave way to that fog, that sleepy-happy state of relaxation that only came with a good smoke.

Elliot’s face seemed to be permanently etched in a perfect three-point grin as his head rested on the back of the sofa, his eyes closed.

“What’s got you grinning?” I asked, feeling every word on my tongue as I continued to watch his face, the Christmas lights in my peripheral all blurring together so prettily.

“Guess what?”

“What?”

“We’re more than friends now,” Elliot said as he opened his eyes, lazy and half-lidded, his grin still planted on his face.

I chuckled as I slid onto Elliot’s lap and pushed his chin up so his eyes were locked on mine. I traced my fingers over his brow, his nose, his cheeks, his jaw, his lips, and I pulled back and reached for his hands.

I kissed across the knuckles of each of his hands, looking for any mark, any tiny scar from the incident in the server room, but I found none—it was like it had never happened, except that here he was, underneath me and looking at me with eyes that didn’t bother to hide the love he felt, and it was all because of that terrible night.

If good didn’t exist without condition, then maybe bad didn’t either?

“If it never happened, we wouldn’t be here now, would we?” Elliot asked, reading my thoughts.

I shook my head slowly as I let his hands fall to resting on the top of my thighs, near my hips.

“This face, El,” I breathed as I scooted closer to his body, “If I could draw, I would replicate it in all its perfection. And in your eyes, I would write the thousands of truths you carry inside so I could read them, know them, and in turn, know you.”

I was high—but I wasn’t so sure it was the effect of the weed anymore that made me feel so lightheaded.

Elliot’s eyes filled with a desperate sort of desire, and I wasn’t entirely unconvinced it was because he wanted me to stop talking, wanted me to stop looking at him so deeply.

“You do know me. And you love me anyway.”

“I love you because I know you.”

I kissed him gently, then with a sense of urgency, and again, it could have been attributed to the high, but I was suddenly filled with a sense of paranoia, a thought that nothing would ever be this good again, that nothing would ever be like this night again.

Elliot’s tongue twined with mine as his fingers gripped my hips. I broke the kiss and pushed his head back so I could have access to his jaw and his neck. I licked along the sharp line of his jawbone before I placed sweet kisses down his neck. As I worked my way back up, I deepened those chaste kisses, sucking lightly in spots until Elliot’s fingers were threatening to snap with his tight grip.

“Touch me,” I whispered in his ear before I pulled the lobe into my mouth and sucked.

His hands moved, sliding under my shirt and going straight to unhook my bra. His nimble fingers managed it quickly and he switched his angle so that he was now massaging my breasts as they dropped free from my loosened bra. Elliot’s fingers were simultaneously working my nipples and I felt a rush of arousal between my thighs.

I was working the other side of his neck now, still pulling breathy moans from his throat, as Elliot began to tug at my shirt, trying to get me out of it and my bra. I sat back just enough to help, tossing the pile of fabric over the back of the couch. Since I was already leaning back, I reached for the hem of Elliot’s sweater and pulled it over his head. He had forgone a t-shirt underneath tonight and I was delighted to be able to dip my head and lick along the top of his chest, placing wet kisses across his skin and then onto the smattering of freckles that dotted his shoulders.

I pressed my body into his in a tight hug, my eyes rolling back a bit at the sensation of warm skin on warm skin.

Elliot moved forward, wriggling to the end of the couch and he stood up, after a moment’s struggle to get his hands under my thighs. I hooked my ankles together and he carried me to the bedroom, laying me on the bed and sliding into place between my legs.

I was still lost in the warm feel of our torsos, pressed together as Elliot’s hands pushed my arms up over my head so he could touch as much of me as he could reach, fingertips to waist, he ghosted along my skin until it broke into gooseflesh and I shuddered.

He was watching me with those big eyes, memorizing my face in yet another moment of passion before he pushed himself up so he could kiss across my chest.

Elliot’s lips quickly found one of my nipples, and I felt another flood of arousal as I watched his full lips pucker around it as he sucked. I ran my fingers up the back of his head and tangled them in his hair, enjoying the soft thickness.

Elliot let go with a slight pop and blew a cool stream of air over the wet patch, causing both nipples to grow impossibly hard and even more sensitive. Elliot smirked as he kissed his way to my other breast and repeated his sweet torture.

By the time he was kissing his way down my stomach, I was done, squirming with desire, the muscles of my abdomen twitching under his tongue.

“Stop,” I breathed. “Stop, stop.”

Elliot froze and looked up with wide-eyes, and I pushed out from under him.

I stood and shimmied out of my jeans and panties.

“Lay down,” I instructed, and Elliot’s face relaxed as he realized I just wanted to switch positions.

Elliot’s jeans were already falling off his hips, so with a good tug, I pulled them off and made quick work of his socks and his underwear. I took a few seconds to let my eyes rake over his naked body, his muscles taught, his cock hard, his eyes soft.

I smiled and kept my eyes on his as I straddled his hips. Elliot reached down to grasp himself, and he ran the tip of his cock through my wetness. I stayed poised above him, and I reached up to grasp his jaw, my thumb caressing the spot between his lower lip and his chin. When our eyes were locked, I lowered myself onto him and we groaned together, both overwhelmed at both the sensation and the feeling.

I moved slowly, watching his mouth form a tight line as he struggled against releasing his pleasure.

“Let go, El.”

Elliot’s eyes swept over my face before he exhaled, his mouth falling open. He ran his hands up my thighs and swept around to grasp my hips. I loved the feeling of his strong hands on me and I sped up my movements, his cock hitting just the right spot.

I wanted him so much and my high had worn off to a quiet buzz, I knew my orgasm wouldn’t take long to achieve, but I wanted to come with him tonight—I felt a desperate need to be in sync with him, to be as close to him as I could be.

We were both covered in a light sheen of sweat, our bodies hot, flushed.

“Close,” I breathed.

“Y/N,” Elliot said in a moan. “Y/N, Y/N, Y/N.”

Elliot’s deep, raspy voice saying my name, again and again, drove me toward the edge, and I sped up my movements, my hands clutching at his chest as I began to bounce in earnest.

“Fuck,” Elliot hissed. “I’m coming.”

And my walls clenched at his warning, squeezing around him while he emptied himself inside of me, his heat spreading over my inner walls, making me feel so connected to him as we both worked through our climaxes. Tonight, like our first night together, wasn’t about fucking; it was about feeling, about us showing one another everything we didn’t want to taint with words.

We stayed connected, arms and legs tangled, but we said nothing—nothing needed to be said, and soon Elliot’s head was settled on my chest in a haunting, much more intimate mirror of the first, chaste night we had ever spent together.

Surrounded by everything that was Elliot, I knew I wanted to forget about the incident at my parents’ house, so I did, pushing it away until I thought it was gone.

I felt Elliot relax, falling asleep in my arms, but as this Elliot, my Elliot fell asleep, another part of him was waking up, that angry part of him I wanted so desperately to forget wasn’t going to stay asleep for much longer, and it would be all my fault.

#Elliot Alderson #elliot alderson x reader #elliot x reader #female reader #rami malek #rami malek character #mr robot #mr robot fanfiction

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slapshot-to-the-heart · 4 years ago

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part vii

part i part ii part iii part iv part v part vi

Welcome back, friends! I know it’s been a long time since I updated, and I’m sorry for that - I just finished up my junior year of college, and combined with all of the protesting an unrest going on in the US (where I’m from) it’s been hard to write on schedule. On that note, I want to say that as a person and a writer I unequivocally stand with the Black Lives Matter movement and those protesting for an end to police brutality, the demilitarization and downsizing of the police, and equal rights for all - noting especially that these issues particularly affect LGBTQ+ people of color, particularly Black trans women. I am always striving to keep myself as educated and informed on how to be an antiracist, and encourage everyone to take a look at https://blacklivesmatters.carrd.co/ for resources to educate yourself, donation links if you’re able, and petitions to sign. Breonna Taylor’s murderers still have not been arrested. I love writing, and I hope this chapter lives up to your expectations. Please reblog as always, and pop into my inbox and let me know what you think!

part vii

February 14

Dress like I’m going to a diner? Cass was more than a little confused as she pulled one leg through the pair of her good jeans (the ones without ripped knees, she wore them out with Mat and to less-important meetings and even to church once or twice when she was feeling particularly daring) as she slipped into her pea coat, toying with the button by her wrist as she opened the door to the crisp February air. It wasn’t snowing, but it was cold enough that her hands were still jammed firmly in her coat pockets. She could see her breath when she breathed out. Matt pulled up a few minutes, an apologetic look on his face as he slammed his hazards on and scrambled over the chair to push her door open.

“Sorry I’m late,” Mat said breathlessly. “Parkway was backed up.”

Cass waved him off. “It’s not a big deal, just crank the heat up.”

“I know you said you didn’t want anything too fancy, so I hope you like it,” he added hesitantly, looking in between her and the road as he turned a corner.

Cass squeezed his hand that was hovering just above the gear shift. “I’m sure I’ll love it, Mat.”

It really had been hard for Mat to figure out what to do for Valentine’s. He was leaving the next day for a weeklong road trip, but it was still, you know, Valentine’s, and he wanted so badly to get it right. So he tapped Jordan, called Tito, even somehow got ahold of her roommates to ask them what they thought she might be interested in. He wouldn’t admit it, but there also might have been a text or two back home to his sister for a second (third? fourth?) opinion. He wanted it to be perfect, but even more than that, he wanted it to be her. Dinner at a Michelin-starred restaurant and a Tiffany’s necklace might be all well and good, but it didn’t really matter if the proverbial shoe didn’t fit. The handful of Valentine’s dates he’d gone on in the past had mostly been the standard roses-and-chocolates type, and while Cass did love chocolate, this evening meant so much more to him than any previous attempt.

He didn’t want to do anything to mess it up, anything to jeopardize what was hands-down the most meaningful and serious relationship he’d ever been in. He’d dated girls for longer, sure, but there was something about what he had with Cass that made him feel like she had been in his life forever, like she was already a permanent fixture who made everything else make sense. They drove down the island of Manhattan, his thumb running back and forth over the palm of her hand until he pulled into a hotel parking lot. Cass looked at him quizzically. “Easiest place to park,” Mat said by way of an answer.

He parked, opening Cass’s door and helping her out. “Where are you taking me?” Cass said with a small laugh, looking across the street at the dozens of couples taking an early dinner.

Mat held up a finger. “It should be...right up here,” he said, double-checking his phone. “Ah-ha!”

A dusty green awning and flyer-covered window greeted the couple. It was a pizzeria, and it was perfect. It wasn’t just the fact that, like any sane person, Cass loved pizza, but the fact he knew what she wanted and prioritized that over any expectation or preconception about what the “right” way to celebrate was. And she could really go for a dollar slice.

They squeezed into a two-top table in the corner. Cass hung her bag on the back of her chair, scooping back to go order at the counter. When it came to food, Mat was a simple man with simple tastes. He liked pepperoni. “I got us garlic knots because it’s Valentine’s day and I love you,” she said, setting down the trays, “and also because I’d willingly murder a man for garlic.”

Mat picked one up, biting in and nearly moaning. God, these are good. “Babe, you’re going to be a lawyer. You can’t just go around getting yourself arrested for murder. I don’t think your garlic defense would go over well with the judge.”

Cass shrugged. “I can get myself off.” Mat raised an eyebrow. “Ew!” She threw a packet of red pepper at Mat, promptly hitting him square in the chest. “Get your mind out of the gutter. There are children present.” To be fair, aside from them the restaurant was filled mostly with high school students, nervously holding hands and sipping each others’ Cokes while they tried desperately to make small talk. And to be fair, she could get herself off.

“Are you finally going to tell me what we’re doing?” Cass asked, biting into the last bit of her crust.

“In a minute,” Mat said, twisting around to rustle through the pocket of his leather jacket. He pulled out a small, flat square box, sliding it over the table to her. Cass traced the edges delicately with a finger.

Mat smiled softly at her. “Open it.”

Cass tapped the box against her palm until the bottom fell softly into her hand. Inside, nestled in a cloud of cotton, was a beautiful silver bar necklace. It was simple, elegant, not too flashy. But it was her, and it was hers.

“I know you don’t like me spending money on you,” Mat shrugged, “but you deserve nice things. You deserve to be treated well.” He reached over the table to tuck a curl behind her ear.

She picked it up, touching the chain, clasp, pendant. “Turn it over,” Mat said pointedly, with a smile on his face. Cass flipped it. There was an engraving on the back — well, two, really. 10-28-20. That one she knew. That one was their anniversary. WWRD. That one she didn’t know. Glancing back up towards Mat with a confused look on her face, she raised an eyebrow. “What would Ruth do,” Mat supplied. It took Cass a moment, and once she realized, she almost fell over, dissolving into peals of laughter. What would Ruth do? “I know I’m nothing but a filthy Canadian,” Mat started, “but I also know you love her and look up to her. You don’t just have a mug with someone’s face on it for no reason.” That was true. For Secret Santa last Christmas, Ryanne had 100% gotten Cass a mug with Ruth Bader Ginsburg’s face on it. And she 100% used it every day for her morning tea.

“Plus, I read on Wikipedia that before she was a judge, she was a lawyer and did a lot for women’s rights and stuff. Which is really cool.” Cass nodded. That’s sweet, she thought, he actually did his homework.

It was Cass’s turn to turn to Mat, leaning forward and cupping his cheek gently. He leaned into her touch. “It’s beautiful, Mat. I love it.”

“Let me put it on for you?” Mat asked. Cass nodded, he stood up and shuffled behind her, delicately grabbing the necklace and brushing her hair to one side. Cass shivered at the touch of his fingertips. After a few seconds, he managed to clasp it, leaning down and brushing a kiss on her shoulder before walking back to his side and grabbing his jacket. “You ready to take off?” His eyes flickered down towards his watch. It was nearing 7:30. “We’ve got to be somewhere by 8, but they said to get there early.”

“Who’s ‘they’?” Cass asked curiously.

Mat cracked a grin, sliding her hand into his as they walked out of the restaurant. “You’ll see.”

Two minutes of walking later and Cass was staring into the lights of Broadway. Even living only a few hours away, she had only been once before. The Lion King, in 5th grade. Her little sister Eliana was more of a theatre kid than Cass; field hockey and lacrosse kept her too busy in high school, any spare time she had between sports and work study was spent spending time with friends or reading old books. Eliana was four years younger than her, and when she got the lead in Heathers, Cass had never been happier to live only twenty minutes away from home. El killed it, she got to have a night at home, and was able to make pancakes with her mom in the morning. It was a win-win-win scenario. But Cass still loved musicals, listened to soundtracks while she studied, tried to make the drive once a year to Boston — Eliana was at BU — to see a winter or spring show.

So when she was suddenly looking up at the ten-foot-tall poster for Waitress, her mouth kept opening and closing like a fish. “Do you like it?” Mat asked hesitantly. “We can find something else to do if you’re not into it, I know —”

Cass cut him off, squeezing his hand tightly and standing on her tippy toes to press a kiss to his jaw. “It’s amazing, Mat. I just didn’t know what to say. I still don’t, really. This is such an...unexpected gift. But I love it.” Mat relaxed. He genuinely was nervous about the choice; her roommates had told him that she liked the soundtrack and she had recommended that Sara Bareilles album to him way back in October, but he didn’t want to assume that meant she’d want to see it live. Mat was glad that he was wrong.

Mat gently pulled the tickets out of his coat pocket, flashing them to the usher and handing Cass’s to her. “You ready for a show?”

---

“So, what did you think?” Cass asked as they walked out of the theater.

“I liked it!” Mat said. And he really had liked it. Some of the music definitely confused him, and he didn’t understand how quick changes were physically possible, but it was good. “Earl’s a class-A dick, though. Jenna’s much better off without him.”

Cass nodded. “Correct.”

March 4 (thurs)

Cass glanced down at her watch, making sure it was a good time to call. It was just after 6 in New York, which would mean it was...5 in Winnipeg? Was that right? Mat probably hadn’t gotten to the arena yet, or if he did, it was more likely dinner than training or warmups. Clicking on his contact, it rang for less than ten seconds before Mat picked up.

“Hey babe! You good?” It wasn't per se unusual for them to call each other — especially during road trips, they tried to talk or FaceTime every day — but it was usually Mat who called first, and usually just after games. So it was understandable that he was a little confused.

Cass giggled. “I’m good, really good. Got some good news, just wanted to hear your voice.”

“Awww,” Mat teased, “you loooove me.”

Cass didn’t really blush, but if she did, her cheeks would be scarlet. “Yes. I do. Shut up.”

Mat let out a laugh. “Just teasing you, babe. Good news, eh? What kind? Did you hear back from any of the places you applied yet?”

“No,” Cass huffed. “Not that.” She had sent out her résumé to somewhere around ten different firms and nonprofits, mostly in New York, but some as far south as D.C. and as far north as Boston. She had also sent in an application for a clerkship at the Supreme Court months back as some sort of pipe dream, but hadn’t heard anything back and had long since abandoned it as a lost cause. “I’ve done a few interviews, but nothing permanent. It’s still pretty early, though.” And that part was true — out of everyone in her circles back at school, there were maybe a handful who already had jobs lined up after graduation, most of them having evolved from summer associate positions they’d taken with some highbrow firm in Manhattan. Or D.C. One was even going to London to do something very intellectual-sounding with trade negotiations.

“I know you’re probably a little nervous, and I totally get that. But don’t worry, Cass. You’re incredible and so smart and so qualified and someone’s going to see that, even if it takes a little longer than expected.”

“Thanks,” Cass said, breathing out deeply and smiling softly. Mat was getting good at reading her, so good that he could tell when something was bothering her even without being face-to-face. And he gave damn fine pep talks.

Mat cleared his throat. “So. Good news?”

Cass screwed up her face. “Good news. Right. I just got out of the office, and you know how I said I was almost done with my hours?” It had taken Cass longer than usual to finish her experiential requirement, since nearly all of her peers got it knocked out in a summer and she, obviously, was a little more busy when it actually came to term time. “Mhm,” Mat responded. “I just got done with the last of them today!”

Mat was confused. “So...your good news is that you’re finished? I thought you liked working with Chris?”

“Right, yeah, I do.” Cass tried to backtrack. I should have explained. “Chris told me I’m welcome to stay on, and I’m going to. I genuinely like what I’m doing. Since I’m not doing it for school anymore, he put in a request for a status change with HR, and it just got approved. So,” she paused for dramatic effect, “the good news is that now I’m getting PAID.”

“Awesome!” Mat said. “You’re going to be the one making the big bucks now.”

“I’m making 16 dollars an hour. It’s barely above minimum wage, but it’s nice to finally get something back.”

Ten minutes later, after they had hung up, Mat leaned back in his hotel bed. He really was proud of Cass, unbelievably so, but hadn’t yet admitted to himself just how nervous he was. Not about their relationship, really, but about where things were headed. He absolutely saw them together as a long-term thing and at least from what Cass made it seem like, so did she. But they hadn’t really spoken about where they saw this whole thing going, or what it would look like, or really anything beyond vaguely discussed plans for the summer after her graduation. The uncertainty wasn’t really concerning him. Mat’s new contract locked him in through 2026, so he wasn’t leaving anytime soon. And he wouldn’t want to, he loved hockey and loved New York and loved his team.

Cass was a whole different story. She was probably the smartest person he’d ever met, and Mat knew that she could and would be able to go just about anywhere for a position. She didn’t have to stay in New York if she didn’t want to. And sure, New York was a pretty good place to be a lawyer — it didn’t take a genius to know that — but the worry kept popping up in the back of his mind that she’d get an incredible offer somewhere like California or Chicago or even somewhere international and would leave the city. Leave him. Mat would never dream of holding Cass back from her dreams. It would be a dick move and she’d worked way too hard to let everything go to waste. But the idea of doing something long distance, like true long distance, scared the shit out of him. It wasn’t just that he’d miss the sex or seeing her in the stands at games or early morning coffee dates, but Mat thrived on closeness, he thrived on intimacy of all kinds. It would terrify him to have to be away from someone who meant so much to him for so long. But this was Cass, his Cass, and if he’d go through it for anyone, it would be for her.

I’m overthinking this, Mat thought, as he flipped his phone over and over in his hands. Don’t make up problems where there are none.

March 13 (sat)

Cass tapped her fingers nervously as she walked through the doors of the Islander’s practice rink. It was family skate, and Cass couldn’t help but feel like she didn’t quite belong.

“There you are!” Mat said, his bag slung over one shoulder as he greeted her with a kiss. “You ready? I know Tito and Paige are already down there and they’re starting to get on the ice.”

“Yep!” Cass said brightly, forcing a smile and grabbing his hand a little too quickly.

Mat raised one eyebrow. “Alright, what is it?”

Cass dropped the face. “It’s just...this seems different than all of the other things I’ve gone to. It’s not like when I’m in the box at games or we go out with the team or I hang out with the girls when you guys are on a road trip. It’s like,” she let out a huff, “this is small. This is close. This is meant for family, wives and kids, and I’m not...I’m not family. I’m your girlfriend, sure, but…” She trailed off.

Mat squeezed her hand. “I plan on keeping you around for a long time, Cass. You’d better get used to it. And besides,” he said, looking at her softly, “wives have to start somewhere.”

Luckily, Cass didn’t have time to get too into her head, because she was suddenly engulfed in a bear hug from Paige. “I know we got coffee on Monday, but it’s been too long, Cass. I swear, you’re working too hard.”

Mat chimed in. “Tell me about it.” Cass swatted at him. “She’s been studying and editing and sending in her résumé to every office she can get her hands on.” He sat his chin on top of her head, arms crossing in front of her chest to hold her hands.

“Alright, Mr. Clingy,” Cass giggled, twisting her head to look up at Mat.

“But you looove your clingy boyfriend,” Mat whined, leaning down and softly kissing Cass.

She scrunched her nose. “Regrettably so.”

He squeezed her shoulder. “You ready to go out on the ice?”

“Yeah.” Cass nodded, taking a pair of skates from the rack. By the time she had unlaced her boots and set them to the side, Mat had already tied his hockey skates, an extra pair he kept in his practice bag.

“Let me,” Mat said, gently taking the skates and kneeling down in front of her.

Cass rolled her eyes, but her cheeks heated all the same. “If you insist,” she said, holding her left leg out.

“Okay, Cinderella,” Mat chuckled, holding her ankle for support as he wiggled her foot in, pulling the laces tight and tying them. “Double knots are more secure,” he said, blushing, as he finished the second skate.

“You’re cute when you blush,” Cass said, pinching Mat’s cheeks, which only made him go more scarlet.

He straightened out the knot, reaching out a hand so Cass could stand up. She steadied herself on the skates. “How much skating have you done?” Mat asked as he led her to the door.

Cass shrugged. “A little? I went a few times as a kid and the girls and I go to Rockefeller Center around Christmas every year, but not a ton. Skating’s an expensive enough sport as it is, and my parents were already having to deal with coming up with the fees for Noah before he started working.”

Mat grimaced. “Yeah, I get that. I hate it, how cost prohibitive the sport is, and I try to help out back home when I can, but knowing that there’s so many kids who love the sport and could be so good,” he took a tense breath, “but aren’t able to because their families don’t have the means. It’s really shi—” He cut himself off, noticing his teammates’ children skating around. “It sucks.”

“It does.” Cass nodded. “But I know you have a good heart, and I know you’re helping where you can.” She gave a half-smile as they stepped onto the ice, her hand gripping his forearm as she tried to find her balance on the slick surface, which had been passed over by a zamboni right before the group’s arrival. “Wipe that smile off of your face,” she said, sticking her tongue out.

“Yes ma’am,” Mat said with a grin, pulling her along.

---

After an hour or so of skating, Cass had gotten the hang of it enough to where Mat was good to step off the ice for a few minutes and talk to some of the boys. “They have goldfish,” he had mentioned. “I think the snack table’s supposed to be for the kids, but I’m not above theft in situations like these.” So Cass skated around with Paige, Lauren, and some of the other WAGs, nearly all of whom were much, much better skaters than herself.

“For someone who grew up on hockey, you’d think this would be way easier for me than it is,” Cass grumbled, tentatively pushing off from the sideboards.

“You’ll get it eventually. I believe in you,” Paige said, poking her cheek.

She grimaced. “Hopefully. I can see the Athletic’s morning headline now: ‘Cassidy Cabrera Shaw, Girlfriend of 2018 Calder Trophy Winner Mat Barzal, Falls on Face While Attempting to Skate.”

“Sue them,” Paige suggested.

Cass laughed. “That’d be nice, wouldn’t it? Wish I could.” She stuck her hands in her jacket pockets. “No grounds for defamation if it’s true.”

“Laws are dumb.”

“They can be,” Cass admitted, looking over to the bleachers. “You want to go get drinks? I think I saw Whiteclaws in the adult’s cooler, and I know how you feel about those.”

Paige was already halfway across the rink. “Only if all the limes haven’t been taken!”

Cass shook her head, turning like Mat had taught her and skating over to the benches. Paige had gone over to sit with Anthony, a lime Whiteclaw successfully in her hand, and it took Cass no time to find Mat. He was sitting in the second row next to some of the other guys, and he was holding a baby. A very cute, very small baby. She gingerly made her way over to the group, catching Mat’s eye. He beamed at her as she took a seat next to him.

“And who’s this little cutie?” She asked, smiling at him.

“This is Milo,” Mat said softly, turning him slightly so she could wave at him.

Cass absentmindedly remembered asking whose son it was — an offseason trade from Colorado, she vaguely recalled processing the contract at work — but she really couldn’t say which one. But she stroked Milo’s face with one finger, puffed out her cheeks at him, and suddenly he was in her arms and everything else fell away. She bounced him for a few minutes, easily falling back into her old routine — she was an older sister, after all — before handing him back to Mat, who was clearly having some separation anxiety.

Lauren sat on the edge of the bench, gently touching Cass’ shoulder with Collins on her hip. “He looks really good like that, doesn’t he?” She asked. Cass’ cheeks burned. She didn’t know anyone had seen her looking over at Mat and Milo. “Yeah, he does,” she said, a soft smile crossing over her face.

March 26 (fri)

A steaming cup of tea in her hands, Cass threw her head back against the couch, knocking her reading glasses askew. She straightened them with a huff. There were two days until the deadline for the law review, and she still had two articles to get through for last-minute edits and spelling checks. It was just past 11, which normally wouldn’t have been all that late for her, but she had been staring at her computer for hours and it was beginning to take a toll. She had been at the library until 8 or so, making more than one trip to the coffee cart in the lobby before she realized that she wasn’t going to get anywhere sequestered away in a cubicle on the fourth floor. The Islanders were playing that night, so Cass shot Mat a text that she was headed over, packed up her bags, and headed over.

He had just given her a key the week prior, and it was her first time using it. Even though he constantly told her she was welcome to go over, whether he was there or not, she had more than her fair share of nerves as she jingled her keychain, thumbing over her apartment key and mail key and car key and key to the house back in Connecticut before she opened the door. She set the kettle to boil and grabbed the little-used box of English Breakfast from the cabinet before crashing on the couch, where she had been pretty much ever since, save for a bathroom break after a thrilling review of a paper on recent intellectual property rulings of the 2nd Circuit Court.

The doorknob turned and Mat walked in, shower-damp hair, still clad in his gameday suit with his duffel slung over his left shoulder. “Hey, babe,” he said, dropping the bag and walking over to the couch to plant a gentle kiss on the top of her head. “Still at it?”

She nodded ruefully, rubbing her eyes. “Yeah. I ordered takeout earlier in case you’re hungry, there’s an extra gyro in the kitchen,” she pointed to a bag on the counter, “and they threw in free baklava if you’re still hungry.”

His eyebrows perked. “Baklava?” Cass had discovered early on in their relationship that hidden beneath his curated meal plans from the team nutritionist and smoothie kits was a surprisingly committed sweet tooth. She was a stress-baker, and Mat had been more than willing over the past few months to serve as her taste tester for cookies, pies, and anything in between.

Cass giggled. “Yeah. Better get it before I steal the last piece, though.”

Mat returned later with the pastry on a napkin, shrugging off his suit jacket and collapsing onto the cushion beside her. “Anything else interesting happen today?”

Cass shrugged her shoulders. “I had yoga in the morning like usual, which was fun. I tried a hot yoga class today, though, and you would not believe how much I sweat. It hurt my soul.”

“No pain no gain, baby,” Mat chimed in. Cass rolled her eyes at him.

“But then I had law review and my Entertainment Law seminar before I headed over to the office. Pretty normal, they had me looking over some leasing agreements for the next season. Called my grandma, she’s shipping my serape stole over next week and needed my address,” Cass added.

“Serape stole?”

Cass adjusted her position on the couch so she was facing Mat. “It’s a Mexican thing. You know how graduation gowns usually have stoles for the school or whatever?” Mat nodded. “It’s pretty common to have cultural ones too, Black students will often wear what’s called a kente cloth stole and Mexican and some other Latinx students have serape stoles. Give me a sec,” she said, grabbing her phone and scrolling through her photos. “Here’s a graduation photo of me and the girls from UConn, Ryanne’s in her kente stole and I have mine.”

Mat looked bewildered. “Why are you wearing so many of them?”

Cass laughed, realizing which photo she pulled up. “Okay, fair enough. So there’s the normal school one on the bottom, then I had one for the honors program, then on top of that is the one from my sorority, then on top of that is the serape. Most of the other photos it’s just one or two, like in the ones when I’m with the sorority or the Mexican Student Association or whoever. We thought it would be fun to take one where we’re just drowning in stoles and leis. Made us feel fancy.”

“You do look very fancy,” Mat said, leaning his head on her shoulder. “You also look very tired, Cass. You need to go to sleep.”

Cass scrunched up her nose. “I’ve only got the two papers left to look over, and I’d really like to get them done before I head back. Get them all knocked out, y’know?”

“Stay here,” Mat said easily, as if it wasn’t even a question. “Stay here, you can finish reviewing them in the morning. Plus, I’d feel a lot better if you weren’t taking the subway alone at half past 11.”

Cass sighed. He had a point. “Fine,” she said slowly, “but you have to promise to wake me up if I don’t get out of bed by 8. Okay?”

Mat gently took her laptop, setting it on the coffee table. “Okay. Now go take a shower and hop into bed, pretty girl. You’ve had a long day.”

“Thanks,” Cass said, smiling gratefully and padding down the hall to the bathroom. Shedding her clothes, Cass stepped into the shower, expecting to use Mat’s Old Spice shampoo — which, to be fair, didn’t smell half bad — when a white floral bottle caught her eye. She had mentioned offhand once that she was picking up a new bottle of shampoo, and Mat must have been listening more than she gave him credit for. Because, without asking, he had gotten one too.

#hockey imagine #hockey writing #nhl imagine #nhl writing #mat barzal #mathew barzal #mat barzal imagine #mat barzal imagines #nhl #nhl imagines #nhl smut #hockey #hockey smut #hockey imagines #New York Islanders #islanders #islanders imagines #islanders writing

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stereogeekspodcast · 4 years ago

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[Transcript] Season 1, Episode 4. We’ve Been Busy With… Julie and the Phantoms, Star Trek: Discovery, and More

What are we enjoying when we aren't working? Mon's been busy with a few DC Comics, listening to the audiobook of One to Watch, catching up with Holiday Baking shows, and recapping Star Trek: Discovery Season 3 for Show Snob. Ron has been listening to a 12 Monkeys podcast and EK Johnston's Queen's Peril. She's also been watching Julie and the Phantoms as well as recapping The Mandalorian Season 2 for Show Snob.

Listen to the episode on Anchor. Read Mon's recaps of Star Trek: Discovery Season 3 here. Read Ron's recaps of The Mandalorian Season 2 here.

[Continuum by Audionautix plays]

Ron: Hello and welcome to Episode Four of Stereo Geeks. I'm Ron.

Mon: And I’m Mon.

Aside from our day jobs as marketers, and night jobs writing the occasional feature or story about pop culture, what have we been busy with?

So I've been catching up with my usual comic book titles. I follow Batman, Red Hood: Outlaw and Nightwing. I haven't really kept up with any other titles per se. I read comics in small doses; they get frustrating after a while or predictable. And I would say that that's also the case with just these three titles.

With Batman, we just had a huge change in his arc. There was the ‘Joker War’, which has brought about a huge change in his circumstances. Batman now no longer has access to his immense wealth. And he has to hide from the Wayne Manor; the Batcave. Let's just say that he's downsizing. So let's see how he goes.

He's living in a world that's post-Joker. But is the Joker gone? It’s a huge question. Have you been reading any Batman titles?

Ron: I've been catching up with the Batman title. And I think the last one that I read was #102. Last I saw, the Joker War was over and Batman was in dire straits financially.

I'm actually enjoying this direction for the character. I haven't really taken to Batman's characterization in the Rebirth comics. I thought he was staid. He was boring. He was very one-dimensional. We discussed a lot of this in our opening episode about Batman's worst enemy. Please check that out when you have time.

I like where this is going. I think it's changing the way we see Batman.

Mon: Well, I hope there's more character development because the action is definitely boring.

And the other title on my pull list is Nightwing. Nightwing is back to being Dick Grayson. Yes, after 20 issues of being Ric Grayson, he now has his memory back and his family back and he’s snatched the Nightwing mantle away from Detective Alphonse Sapienza. He's abandoned the rest of the Nightwings.

Honestly that was wrapped up in one page, which is a bit disappointing. I really like those characters. I'm glad Dick Grayson is back to being himself because as much as the Ric storyline had potential, they never really went anywhere with it. I'm happy that Bea is sticking around because she seems to be a good influence on him. Nice down to earth character. Will she be more than a love interest? Probably not.

But I am really looking forward to reading these stories again. What are your thoughts on Dick being back?

Ron: Definitely, definitely relieved at the return of Dick Grayson. The Ric Grayson idea worked for maybe two issues. And after that it fell off the wagon. I liked the other Nightwings. I liked how Ric worked with them. I'm really disappointed that they've been discarded so quickly. And I'm really hoping that they actually do come back some way and work with Nightwing, because those are really good characters. We got a lot of backstory from them. And they were working to save the city of Blüdhaven. So I don't feel like they should be left behind like this.

Aside from that, I do really like Bea. There were a few too many moments in the last few issues where they tried to pit Bea against Barbara. I mean, really? Really, in 2020?

What I would really like to see now is how does Bea fit into the Bat-family. She knows everything about Dick Grayson. I want to see her interact with the rest of the family.

Mon: And the last comic book title on my list is Red Hood: Outlaw. I'm actually speechless when it comes to Red Hood. Ron here is the one who introduced me to Jason Todd/ Red Hood. I knew about the character; read about the character. I wasn't interested in reading him that much. But then, you know, somebody here is a fan. But the last few issues have been awful. This final volume before the changing of the guard have been honestly atrocious.

I have wanted to hit Jason in the face… tear up my comic book. Because the art is awful. The characterizations are awful. I'm just not going to go into what happened. It's definitely gone off the deep end. I'm really hoping he gets back to being a readable, relatable character. From issue #51 there's a new team taking it over, so here's hoping.

Ron: I have to agree about Red Hood. I love this character. I have no idea why? Because his solo runs, his team books, they're not good. There are moments of characterization that made me want to read more about Jason and his problems. But overall, his story is so repetitive and so bland.

This last arc has been unmemorable. I don't know what they're doing with it. I don't know where they're going with it. And Jason has not changed in any way.

Mon: I feel like with Jason, he's always stuck in place. And I'm hoping that the new creative team can actually flesh him out more.

Ron: Yeah, it's about time.

So, moving on to what I've been busy with. I have been listening to the 12 Monkeys podcast called, Word of the Witnesses. It's a podcast hosted by two ladies; huge fans of the show. And their very many friends who have all been brought in to the wonderful world of 12 Monkeys. Now, we are talking about the TV show created by Terry Matalas and Travis Fickett. We are not talking about the movie.

However, the show was based on the film. The first season follows the storyline of the film fairly closely. But from the second season onwards, it moves away from that. And it grows.

Mon, you and I started watching the show when it first came out in 2015. We were hooked. We love time travel, so this was definitely up our alley. But the second season was amazing. And then there was a huge break because our lives completely changed. So, we couldn't get to seasons three and four till this year. I managed to watch those two seasons just before the pandemic hit. And then once the pandemic did happen, it was a bit difficult to watch a show about a pandemic. But I’ve been trying to get back into the show again, and I just re-watched the whole thing.

And I still wanted more of the show, so I found this podcast. It's been really enjoyable listening to it. I went through all 53 episodes within a month; no regrets.

I really enjoyed how the hosts went into the mythos of the show. They made so many connections between the various time travel concepts in the show. They found all these Easter eggs that I probably would have missed had I not been re-watching it. And they made connections that I really hadn't even seen before.

But what I also enjoyed was all the theorizing about what certain elements in the show meant. They managed to bring on Terry Matalas and a couple of the writers on the show for interviews. And at one point they did mention that the hosts had found connections that even they hadn't thought of.

It was an enjoyable podcast listen to; it was very engaging. I found that, during the pandemic, I really need to hear conversations. So, for me listening to a podcast where it's a whole bunch of people just talking to each other has been really, really calming. And it's a show that I love, and a bunch of people talking about it with as much love for it as I have, so I've really enjoyed listening to it.

Mon: Well, I haven't heard the podcast myself, but we re-watched the final season of 12 Monkeys together and I felt that you were able to make a lot more connections, A) because you re-watched the entire show just prior to me watching the final season. But also because you'd been listening to the Word of the Witnesses, who gave you all the tidbits and Easter Eggs which would then enhance our watching experience.

I really like how nowadays fans can create content about properties that they really, really love. And it really augments the viewers’ experience.

Ron: Yes, the way that they the way that they spoke about the show. And there were times when during the episodes, they would actually get super emotional because they were so invested in the characters and invested in their journeys. And you could see how much thought had gone into making every part of this show meaningful. And then when they brought on the creators who were also talking about it, you could feel that palpable sense of love for this product, which was often very difficult to create because of budgetary issues. You could just feel it, and it makes you love this show even more.

Mon: Yes, 12 Monkeys was definitely a show that went under the radar for a lot of people. So I'm glad that there's a podcast which is getting the word out there.

So as we talk about things we’ve been listening to, one of our favorite things is audiobooks. And I recently got my hands on a slightly weird one, for me anyway. This is an audiobook of One to Watch by Kate Stayman-London. I heard about this book on NPR Pop Culture Happy Hour. It's another podcast. So I finally requested it from our library.

The story is about plus-size fashion blogger, Bea, and she joins this show which is the equivalent of The Bachelorette, it's called Main Squeeze. She's basically the main squeeze and there are all these 20-odd gentlemen are vying for her affections.

Now, because she's a plus-size person, especially a plus-size woman, she faces situations and comments which the regular Main Squeeze participants won't have faced. And I found that very interesting. We are not used to seeing that many plus-size characters, especially plus-size women, leading romantic or genre properties. And while romance novels and romance stories are really not something that I enjoy, I found that some of the themes—the fatphobic themes—that she faces, they were very relevant and echoed reality. It's actually a tough book to sometimes get through. It's not always happy.

I mean, it's a romance novel, so we can assume that there is going to be a happy ending, we don't know. Because it doesn't seem like it for the longest time. And I'm still in two minds about the ending. Some people may like it, some people may have wanted something different for her. But yeah, give it a shot. If you are looking for something with a different kind of character as a protagonist.

Ron: I’m intrigued. What made you want to read this book? Because a romance story is not up your alley, even if it does have a plus-size character as the lead.

Mon: I think I was just looking for something which may echo a reality which doesn't get represented enough in pop culture. And especially when it comes to plus-size characters, they're usually, you know, sidekicks or completely invisible. So, I really want to see how they approached this topic. I wouldn't say they got everything right. But, the best thing about NPR Pop Culture Happy Hour is that when they recommend something in their ‘What’s Making Me Happy This Week’ section, you are taken in by the enthusiasm of the person pitching this particular product. So that's why I thought, ‘okay, let me give this a shot’. I do think that this is a refreshingly new approach. And it touched on the fact that reality TV at the end of the day is still curated reality. And it's something that you and I have talked about.

Ron: Speaking of audiobooks, I have just been listening to Queen’s Peril by EK Johnston. This is a follow up to Johnston's first book about Padmé Naberrie—aka Queen Amidala, later on, Senator Amidala—Queen’s Shadow.

I love this book so much. I enjoyed Queen’s Shadow a lot. Spending time with Padmé is always amazing. As much as we love the prequels, and yes, we do love the prequels—fight us—Padmé didn’t really get a great ending. So, any stories that give us more of Padmé’s political life, we are definitely up for it.

This book follows Padmé in her early days of becoming Queen of Naboo. She's very young. She's got all these new ideas of how she wants to run the world. And we also get to know a lot about her handmaidens. What I love is that there is some queer content which always makes me happy. I did not expect that, especially in a Star Wars book. But it was so good.

Padmé is a girl. She's a teenager. She's also a queen. She is so smart. She is so witty, she is just amazing. And what I also love about this book is that it ties into The Phantom Menace. But it gives us a whole new perspective. Because you know what's happening and you've got that context, so that enriches the entire experience. I just loved every single moment of this book.

Mon: Yeah, I remember haranguing you to get this book because I loved it so, so much. With Queen’s Shadow, I felt like the author EK Johnston was perhaps a little bit more restrained; it was her first foray into the huge Star Wars universe. I can imagine that there were quite a few studio hands involved. But here in Queen’s Peril, my goodness, it's fluid writing. She knows these characters and she really wants to build up the world that they live in. Every character that we meet has their own arc, they’re fleshed out; you understand their motivations. It's just brilliant to read. And reading about how Padmé and Captain Panaka create her band of bodyguards was so much fun. Each one has their own talents, their abilities, they know their weaknesses, but more than anything, the emphasis put on the sacrifice that they make, I really loved reading about that.

Because these side characters, you know, you can’t just forget about them. ‘Ah, she died because she was a decoy for Queen Amidala’. No, it means a lot to Amidala who these people are. I had so much fun being back in this world from this perspective.

And what I also found funny is that they're still a gaggle of teen girls. They're going to get up to stuff; they're going to be naughty. There’s so much personality given to Padmé and the rest. I really hope that EK Johnston is able to write some more. Let's get back in there with Padmé and the girls.

Ron: Absolutely. She so brilliantly captures this connection that Padmé has with her handmaidens. And you know what I really loved about this, which is also one of the reasons why I loved Queen’s Shadow—I love the politics.

I know a lot of people found the politics in the prequels very difficult to understand. It wasn't very difficult. You just need to have a brain.

Mon: I will never understand people's argument against the politics in the prequels. He was literally echoing what was happening in the news.

Ron: Exactly. So I loved Queen’s Shadow because of that. We get so much insight into how the Senate works, why there’s so much infighting and why certain things just don't get done. And we get to see more of that here. We also get a few hints about how Palpatine gets to rise. And you understand how Padmé has to think on her feet. Because there are so many things that are out of her control, but she needs to keep the peace. So yes, this was such an enjoyable read. I cannot wait for the third part of this trilogy.

Mon: And now on to one of my guilty pleasures. I absolutely and utterly love watching baking shows, cake shows. Anything to do with food, and usually desserts. So, on the Food Network channels, every season, they pretty much have a whole host of themed cooking shows. Since it's the winter and there's so many holidays coming up, we have the Holiday Baking Championship and we have Holiday Wars, which are both different kinds of baking shows.

This year, the formats have changed quite a bit from the previous ones, especially for Holiday Wars. I find it a little less compelling. I feel like it's a little all over the place. I don't know why.

Holiday Baking Championship have a giant table where everybody has to sit at an awkward angle to talk to the contestant. I just keep watching them with their sprained necks and worry about that instead of enjoying the food. But I did notice that the cast of participants looks a lot more diverse than usual. So that's been a long time coming and I hope it is a mainstay.

Aside from that I've caught one episode of Buddy vs. Christmas. Buddy is the Cake Boss in America. And he used to have this competition with fellow cake competitor Duff. But this year, it seems like he is competing on a weekly basis against different cake makers.

The format seems to be that every week they have a theme related to Christmas and they make competing giant displays. I mean, the displays are huge and works of art; works of architectural brilliance and technological brilliance. I do hope that they eat it, but I doubt it. But I have enjoyed seeing what comes out of it.

And ,I hear that we’re in for a new season of Sugar Rush on Netflix, which is so much fun. We really enjoyed the previous season and it seems like they've been trying to get more celebrity guests so let's see who they have this year.

Ron: Yes, nothing like sitting back on a weekend and just watching a baking show. And then we feel like we’re experts on why somebody’s got soggy cake and why somebody else's cake collapsed. Yeah, that's definitely fun.

Speaking of watching things, I have just marathon-watched Julie and the Phantoms. Okay, I thought I was gonna watch a movie. And I decided on Julie and the Phantoms because I've been hearing so much about it. But it turns out that this is actually a TV show. And in 10 episodes the first season wrapped. I really enjoyed this show. It was so much fun.

Mon: Okay, you have to tell me what this show is about. I’ve not heard of it.

Ron: Julie and the Phantoms is about this young girl Julie, played by Madison Reyes, in her very first role. Wow. And she's lost her mother. It's been a year and she's still struggling. One of the things that brought her and her mother together was their love of music. She used to play the piano and she used to sing and now she can't do that because it just reminds her of her mom. So at a crucial moment when she is losing her spot in her music class, three ghosts turn up.

Mon: What?

Ron: These three ghosts died in 1995. And they used to be a band. It actually opens with them. So I'm looking at the screen, looking at 1995 and thinking, ‘oh, that's five years ago’. No, no, it was 25 years ago! It was 25 years ago… Feel old yet?

So, 25 years later, these three members of this band land up in Julie's mother's studio. And they rekindle her love for music and bring her closer to her mom's memory.

At the same time, the three ghosts need to figure out what their unfinished business is because why else are they here? There's a lot of music, there's a lot of singing, there's a lot of dancing; there are so many sweet moments. There are some really, really heartbreaking moments as well. Because the three boys, they died when they were 17. So they've left family behind. And they need to come to terms with that as well.

Of course, Julie and her loss is palpable in every moment that she plays a song. But for the most part, it's quite light, it's quite jovial. There are some laugh out loud moments that I really enjoyed. It's a really, really sweet TV show.

And I really am hoping that there's going to be a second season, because it ends on a cliff-hanger. There's plenty of room for them to grow.

I also love the fact that there are some queer characters in this show. It's not overstated, it's there, it's quite obvious. But it's really sweet. Because two of the band members, they realize that their fellow band member has fallen for a ghost. And they're just like, ‘oh, you have a crush on this ghost friend, that's why you're late for practice’. That's it, even though they're from 1995. So, I was like, oh, that's a relief. So yeah, it was really sweet.

One of the things that I found quite interesting, which I have been noticing in content for young people, is that, when we were growing up, content that was made for us which featured straight couples, generally the boy would not dance. It was this weird thing that would always bother me. You'd have the girl who was always, you know, happily dancing. But the boys? Oh, no, no, they don't do that. But you don't see that now that much. Especially not in this show. Everybody was dancing quite happily. Gay, straight, whatever. So that was really fun!

I love that Julie is a young girl of color, which is still a rarity in pop culture nowadays. Madison Reyes is a really good singer. She has an amazing voice. She dances very well. I'm looking forward to seeing more of this child.

Mon: Well, you’ve always been a fan of musicals. I'm so happy that they keep making these good ones nowadays.

Ron: It was so much fun. And the second season could possibly expand on the mythos that you've already learned in this season. But it was great. It was light. We need something light right now. And that's exactly what we needed.

Mon: Okay, so now on to our weekly favorites. I've been recapping Star Trek: Discovery Season 3 at Show Snob. This has got to be my favorite season, so far. It is so exciting; so fun. It starts off with Michael Burnham, played by Sonequa Martin-Green, she lands in the future and she's all alone. The rest of the crew haven't arrived. When she's reunited with her crew, how does everyone deal with being in the new future? What does the future look like? What's their new mission? Is there a mission? It's been incredible.

I think the creators feel like they’ve finally been able to shed the constraints of being a prequel to the original Star Trek show. Now they can just do whatever they want, create as many different worlds and characters that they want. It's been fun. It's really been exciting. I love the Easter eggs and throwbacks, there are so many of them! We've watched seven episodes so far, which is kind of partway through, and I think they've found their feet.

One thing I'd say about this season is that it's been a little bit more chaotic. I feel like they have a lot of loose threads which are only now trying to get streamlined. There’s also been a lot of characters introduced, we see them for an episode or a few scenes, then they disappear. So it's a little bit bittersweet. I'm hoping for it to get better and better.

Ron: Yes, the cast of Discovery has increased a great deal in this season. And I do like the additions of Adira, Gray, and Book. They're great. They're fun.

But the crew of Discovery itself, we get to see a bit more of them from time to time, which is also quite nice because we've seen them in the background. Especially the Bridge crew; they're always there, a lot of them are Canadians, so, we’ve got our eye on them. But, now we're actually getting to know a little bit more about their personalities and how they work.

Of course, it's all against the background of them being completely displaced from everything that they know and love. So that does change the dynamic between the characters, and also how they feel about their new existence.

I love Sonequa Martin-Green’s Michael Burnham, I've loved her since the first episode. She is so great. I feel like I meet a friend every week when I see her. I'm so fascinated by her direction. She's somebody who was introduced to us in the very first episode as a logical Vulcan who believed so strongly in the Starfleet way of life. And then it all changed because she may have been brought up as a Vulcan, but she was still human. And the moment she got an opportunity to make a difference and get revenge, basically, for the death of her parents, she took that chance, and it changed the way the Federation worked.

Every season, she’s been a fish out to water, trying to fit in. By the end of the second season, she found her home with Discovery, and once again she's been displaced from them. She's still looking for another way to connect with these people whom she does love, but there's a rift between them. And it's not her fault and it's not their fault. But it's just the circumstances that Michael always finds herself in. She's just a great compelling character. I think, after B'Elanna Torres, Michael Burnham would probably be my second favorite; she's just amazing.

Mon: One of the bolder moves by the creators in this season has been changing up the Federation. We're not going to go too much into that—no spoilers here. But I have to say that it makes for a compelling story.

We are so used to Star Trek properties really coasting on the idea of utopia. But there's more to it. There's more to the world and I think that, in 2020, when we are faced with the realities of what people are really like. I'm not entirely sure a beatific view of the future is practical. But let's hope that Discovery finds some kind of utopia eventually.

Ron: Yes, because Star Trek has always been about hope, and Discovery has often struggled with that kind of hope. The first season was all about war. The second season was a little bit more hopeful. This season, it's there but they’re struggling to find it.

They're in a position now to actually bring in some kind of hope. We're seeing that from time to time in the episodes that we've seen so far. But, it's a very different kind of Star Trek from previous iterations. I would say that it's quite dark from time to time.

Mon: It's dark but it's not melancholic, and there is an underlying theme of hope and positivity and optimism, which I assume, by the end of the season, will come to fruition.

Ron: Absolutely. And another show that we've been watching on the regs is The Mandalorian Season 2.

The first season had its ups and downs. There were some really good episodes; there were some poor episodes. We found the first episode to be a little bit turgid. The second season has been far more accomplished.

From the first episode of the second season onwards the editing has been much tighter, the storylines have been more engaging. Even for the episodes that were a bit slower in terms of plot there was still enough there to keep you interested in what was happening.

I think one of the things that people will definitely love about this season is how it's connected to the rest of the Star Wars universe, not just the films, but also the animated shows, as well as the books, maybe even the video games, we don't know yet. There has been some speculation but nothing has been nothing has yet been confirmed. So stay tuned on that.

We've been enjoying it. Baby Yoda has had some moments. He does seem to be doing things that aren't always very good. I don't know how I feel about him; he's adorable. He's adorable. But some of the things that he does… his actions are a bit questionable at times, even though he is Baby Yoda.

Mando himself hasn't really seen much growth this season. I felt like in the first season, you know, he started off as a bounty hunter. He found Baby Yoda and then it changed how he felt about his job and his mission. He no longer just wanted Beskar for the heck of it. He had a person to protect, and it changed his way of life.

This season, as fun as it is to watch him and Baby Yoda go from planet to planet, and from more ridiculous circumstances to others. Mando himself really hasn't changed much from the start of this season. So, I feel like the last few episodes will have some work wrapping that up.

Mon: I know that Mando has really stagnated in his characterization, but it's been such an adventure. Each episode has been an adventure on a new planet. And it's shown how Mando and the Child have connected more. It’s expanded the universe of the live-action show, and I’ve enjoyed that much more than if we were forced to watch Mando grow in some contrived or inauthentic fashion.

Honestly, this feels like a Star Wars show mainly because you never know what you’ll spot or who you’ll spot from other properties. So I'm probably in the minority here, but I really don't mind that he's like, ‘I'm on a quest; I’m on a quest, I'm on a quest’. Literally his only refrain for the first three episodes—he's moved on from saying that, at least.

Because as a character, he's so cool. Like, even when you watched Jango Fett and Boba Fett. These helmeted creatures, you don't really care about who they are as people. They just looked so cool. And a lot of the characterization, their arcs, their motivations, they come through despite that, it comes through in their actions. I really liked how they've brought in different aspects of the universe.

I kind of wish they wouldn't tell us in advance. Like, stop promoting and sending us news. Let us be surprised from time to time. And that was what used to be the mainstay of any Star Wars property. I don't know why, ever since Disney's taken over, they just tell us everything. No, we need to be surprised as fans. Ah, anyway. But the show, the cinematography is outstanding. It really feels like Star Wars and some of the direction… it's like, nothing has changed in the best way possible.

Ron: Shut out to Bryce Dallas Howard, and Carl Weathers; their episodes were just so good. So good.

Those were Star Wars episodes. It felt like we'd never left this universe from 1977. It was just such an enjoyable experience. You could see that these directors had grown up with these properties, they love these properties so much that their vision was what a fan would make. It was so much fun.

But for me, Mando’s lack of growth wasn't really bothering me that much until ‘Chapter 13’, where I was like, ‘what's he gonna do after this?’. Like, there needs to be more to this character. I think he's working as an audience stand-in a bit too much this season. Whereas in season one, you couldn't help but question some of his motives and everything that he did you were always on tenterhooks about what his next action was.

I like that he’s firmly a good guy now. But he's dangerously close to becoming a boring, good guy.

Mon: Well, I hope that's not the case and that Mando does get some growth. I'd like to see where his relationship with the Child eventually goes. There's only so much you can do with a little green puppet.

Ron: Baby Yoda is so cute that literally everybody is just gonna watch the show because it's the Baby Yoda show. He's really adorable as I said. But there are some moments where I feel like Mando now needs to start parenting. You can't just have Baby Yoda around, you need to do something about it because there have been moments where you're like, ‘Mando, watch your son!’

I guess that's the kind of growth that I do want to see. And I feel like that may happen in the next few episodes because all this while, he was on a very specific quest, and all the episodes that we’ve seen so far… Him having to planet hop was basically because he needed to finish this quest and there was something always waylaying him.

But, it's been great watching these characters from the Expanded Universe turn up, they fit in beautifully. I have to say a special shout out to Timothy Olyphant’s Cobb Vanth. I have no idea why, but this guy was amazing. I have seen Timothy Olyphant in other stuff but, oh my god, he was really good. I really enjoyed watching him.

And all the special guests who've been turning up have been doing a great job.

Despite our enjoyment of the show, there have been some controversies around the actors in the show. So, do be aware of that when you're watching it. It does tend to suck out some of the joy in watching this season because it has been really good. These characters are amazing. But pop culture doesn't exist in a vacuum, and we need to recognize that.

Having said that, as fans of the franchise, The Mandalorian Season 2 is doing the work to not only engage with us, but to entice new fans who may just be watching this show or may have just come in through the sequel trilogy to watch and read more of this Expanded Universe.

I've really enjoyed the episodic nature of this season, probably more than the previous season. One of the difficulties that sequels have is that they want to be bigger and better. This season seems to have gone in the other direction, and it works.

Mon: Yeah, despite introducing more characters. They have limited arcs, relevant arcs, and they drive the plot forward, and that's what's important. At the end of the day it's a great fan experience and what more could we ask for?

Ron: Tell us what you've been watching and share any recommendations that you may have.

Ron: You can find us on Twitter @Stereo_Geeks. Or send us an email [email protected]

Ron: We hope you enjoyed this episode. And see you next week!

Mon: The Stereo Geeks logo was created using Canva. The music for our podcast comes courtesy Audionautix.

[Continuum by Audionautix plays]

Transcription by Otter.ai and Mon.

#star trek: discovery #the mandalorian #star wars #padme amidala #julie and the phantoms #holiday baking #food network #batman #nightwing #red hood #12 Monkeys

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chiauve · 5 years ago

Text

The Man in the Dark - 1

Ally had been told emphatically by her father that she was not allowed to go down into the abandoned labs below the building. They’d been converted to storage units when the building was repurposed for records and bookkeeping and all that boring stuff of the BSAA so there was nothing of interest down there but it was still dangerous anyway. So of course that was the first thing she did.

Both her parents worked long hours and neither wanted their eight-year-old daughter home alone after school, and Ally had no close enough friends with which to spend those hours. Most of those days she spent with her grandparents, especially her doting grandfather, but they too were still involved in the work life and would sometimes be away. So her father would pick her up and bring her to his office building. It was a decent compromise; a little more time with her dad, somewhat, and, supposedly, time to sit down and get her homework and reading done. She could wander as she pleased, grab a snack from the cafeteria, and hole up somewhere quiet to focus.

Or that’s what she said. She’d give her dad a kiss on the cheek and, backpack over her shoulder, head for the less used hallways and then make a beeline for the stairway. The elevator did go to the basement levels but they required a key to go down and she didn’t want anyone to happen to see where the car was going anyway, just in case.The stairway, however, and the door to the first of the basement levels were unlocked. Either no one noticed or didn’t care. Judging by the occasional cigarette and other things she’d found on that first level she guessed the latter. Even adults needed their getaways and for that reason she’d learned to be sneaky coming and going and had perused those first couple of rooms of the first level quickly.

As she was told, there was little. Boxes of old books and hardcopies of records, spare furniture, some unused safes, the fans that would get hauled out in summertime and space heaters in winter, and so on. Boring office stuff.

The building had once been one of the BSAA’s research and training facilities, but with the decrease of bio-terrorism and BOW activity over the years those departments of the BSAA had been downsized and relocated. The BSAA still had a heavy hand in monitoring pharmaceutical activities and viral research, its original purpose, but there hadn’t been an outbreak in a long time so its focus was in the usual business and government dealings and other red tape stuff. The other kids used to perk up when she said her dad worked for the BSAA, asking if he fought monsters or traveled the world, and then would lose interest when she informed them he just had a desk job.

Ally crouched down by the door to the basement and listened for a long minute. No scuffling of feet, no voices, no weird slaps and grunts of people being gross, so she opened the door and slid into the dark. She knew the layout almost by heart now and hurried to where she could turn her light on without being seen should someone come in, but more importantly she hurried because she hated the dark. She really did. The stories her grandpa used to tell her were burned like brands into her mind and despite knowing full well no lickers or hunters or other extinct things were going to grab her she wanted to be able to see to be sure.

She counted steps and she jogged down a hallways and turned into the third room where she turned on her phone light and sat in a spare chair, spinning it around to assure herself there were no monsters.

The monsters were all gone. People like her daddy kept track of that and the brave BSAA agents made sure of it.

Still, some shadows made her shudder.

She dug into her backpack and pulled out a large flashlight, trading its broad, warm light from her phone’s colder one. A big flashlight said ‘explorer’ more than a phone ever could, but she kept her phone handy should she find something interesting to film and show her classmates later.

Poking her head back out into the hall for a last check, she hurried to the basement stairs. The second basement level was accessible from there and had a few more interesting things: old lockers, a few safes still locked and functioning, bathrooms and showers that still worked, obsolete computers long wiped, and more old furniture and boxes of records that nobody needed anymore and would someday probably just be burned.

She crossed this level to get to another set of stairs that led down to what she dramatically referred to as The Dead Zone. Whatever power there’d been down there was long shut off, pipes silent, and the only movement that of rats.

She hated rats. Not the cute, fat little things that sat on your shoulder in school, but the nasty wild ones that bit and probably carried The Plague. She always wore her boots on days she knew she was coming to her dad’s work.

The last of the power on the second level stopped at the door at the bottom of the stairs to the lower levels, keeping that door locked behind a large deadbolt. Or it was supposed to; the lock had been broken for a long time and no one came down to check it.

Discovering that had been the moment Ally went from childish scrounging through forgotten storage rooms to exploring the Unknown. A lone agent in the oppressive, silent dark. She’d been down there many times and it scared her every time.

She approached the door and paid respect to that dark, shutting off her flashlight and staring at that pinpoint of light on the lock; the last sign of life and civilization. She pushed open the door and slid inside and didn’t turn her light back on until the door clicked shut behind her. She double-checked her phone; the signal was weak but still there should she get locked in or something happened. She’d get in trouble, but knowing she could call for help kept her fear at bay. She shushed her shadow (only quiet in the Dead Zone) and then moved on.

She’d explored most of this floor already. As far as she could tell there were two more below, but it was harder and harder to get to them. The space got heavy the farther down she went; the dust thick and the dark itself pressing down, insulted at the presence of a little girl. She concluded that as long as she was a polite guest it wouldn’t really harm her.

There was a big open space she guessed was once a gym, or some kind of training area. A few mats were left and started to rot long ago. There were rooms she couldn’t get into, physically locked and requiring a key or the power locks dead. Some doors still had plaques labeling their purposes: offices, training rooms, records. The bathrooms didn’t work and no water flowed, save a corner where it crept down the wall into a moldy puddle.

The next floor was worse: labs with some remaining equipment that made her mind jump to horror video games. Ally managed to wedge her way into a partially blocked door into an operating theater, but only the observatory part. The doors to the room below were well sealed.

Shining her light down into that room made it some how creepier than normal, and so she filmed it for her adventure videos and then never went back.

Her heartbeat always increased at this point, the rats skittering around just outside her light. She could see their red eyes watching her.

There was one last set of doors to the floor below, and while she’d opened them and looked into that level something chilled her and she decided to keep looking around on the fourth floor. She passed her light over that door and considered: was the day the day she go below? Should she wait?

What time was it? She checked her phone: she still had time, but her signal was getting dangerously weak. She eyed the door, then decided to be the polite guest she was supposed to be and ask.

“Should I go down today?” she whispered, so low her voice was barely more than a breath. It still roared n her ears in the silence.

Nothing moved, there was no sound, and yet the oppressiveness seemed to ease just slightly, her heartbeat not as fast. She took that as an invitation and stepped forward.

“Thank you, that’s very kind,” she whispered to the dark. She was old enough now to know she was probably being silly but you never could be sure in dark creepy places and it was best just to be cautious.

She pushed open the dead door and descended the staircase back around to the last door. The air was so heavy and stale she was sweating, the temperature forever constant. She pushed open the last guardian and entered the heart of the darkness at the bottom of it all, her flashlight shining around the dank hallway. This was the farthest she’d ever gone, gazing upon this last floor but never entering. Her fear rose, but also a bit of disappointment. Once she explored this place, what was left? Oh she always scrounged around the other floors, always finding new things, but this was the Final. The Boss level, the...

She took a breath, rechecked the door to make sure it wouldn’t lock behind her, and then gently shut it.

The hallways had many doors indented against large rooms that made shadows that shifted and jumped out at her. The doors were huge, thick slabs that moved on a track, now dead. The first room was open, nothing but a big space beyond, though chains lay on the floor. What was this place? Training up above, labs below, and now... She pulled out her phone and filmed, scanning around the room. She used to narrate her progress on the upper levels, but here she stayed silent. She could edit it later.

The next room was the same, and so were the others. Big empty rooms with nothing in them, infested with rat droppings and bugs and other things, but otherwise silent and dead. The other floors had remnants of human life in them, which was creepy, but this had something else. Nothing. There were rooms but they were dead spaces, a large hall of big empty locked rooms.

Like a prison. Ally shuddered.

Deciding she’d done enough for today, she began to make her way back down the hall when something caught her eye. A light. A small, red pinpoint of light in the pressing, endless dark. She stared at it.

There was no power down here, how was this door still active? She shone her light on the source; a keypad, just as dusty and grimy as everything else, but still active. Hand trembling, she took a couple pictures with her phone, then, slowly, her finger inched towards a button.

She reared back and stepped away.

Not today. She was not ready for the dark’s secrets today.

She hurried back to the last door and ascended, crossed the abandoned levels and finally up to the broken door on the second basement level. Again she performed her ritual, shutting off her flashlight and curtsying to the dark, before she left and fled through the storage rooms and back upstairs.

Life, light, noise even in the quiet places. She settled herself into a corner with her schoolbooks and pretended she’d been there the whole time and pulled out a pencil.

Ally didn’t do her homework, her mind locked on that single little light in the heart of the darkness.

#resident evil #albert wesker #the man in the dark #fanfic

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