#but honestly how do you light an atomic bomb???

[wafflesthewombat]

I'm the gaffer (so like lighting and stuff) for my classmates and mine first short film this semester and lemme just say when my professor tries to read the lighting diagram I just submitted he's gonna be just as lost as I was making it... so very very lost

I DID MY BEST THOUGH and that's what counts (and also my grade)! I'm just not cut out for gaffer lol I can't wait to be literally anything else

[hagnanimous]

I read the book that Ice Nine Kills got their name from!

They’ve stated in interviews that their name is a reference to the fictional substance ice-nine in Cat’s Cradle by Kurt Vonnegut, the author of Slaughterhouse Five. I decided to read the book and find out what it is. (I got rained on with the book in my bag, that’s why it’s so damaged.) (Also there’s some light spoilers ahead, but not anything you couldn’t get from a blurb.)

What is ice-nine?

First, the book: Cat’s Cradle is a satire about a number of world issues during the Cold War, but it is primarily about nuclear weapons and the threat of nuclear apocalypse. The book focuses on the children of a fictional scientist who created the atomic bomb and the people that surround the family. However, the main threat in the book isn’t the bomb, it’s the substance “ice-nine.” The fictional science goes like this (I am a mathematician, not a chemist, so I apologize in advance):

Any solid material is made up of a crystal lattice structure, which is the pattern in which the molecules stack against each other. These lattices - their shapes, how the molecules are organized - determine physical properties of the solid, like, for example, melting point. Ice melts at 32 degrees Fahrenheit, but what if that’s not the only possible lattice structure of water? What if that’s only ice-one? There could be an ice-two with a slightly higher melting point, an ice-three… all the way up to ice-nine.

These new lattices can be “taught” to any kind of regular water - when exposed to any amount of water, a small piece of ice-nine could immediately spread its structure to the water, freezing it all. If it were to enter into a river, a lake, an ocean, it would freeze all water on earth.

Even the idea of ice-nine was a secret, but the fact that the scientist actually made it was a secret he took to his grave—but not before leaving his deadly weapon to his children with near-giddy excitement.

In short, ice-nine is a blue-white crystal with a melting point of 114.4 degrees Fahrenheit that has the power to eliminate all life on earth.

Does it even matter in the book?

This was a question I had when I first heard where the name came from. It’s not even the title of the book! But yes, ice-nine is a very big deal. It’s explained within the first 50 pages, but it’s not actually seen until 200 pages later. For the entire book, ice-nine is a looming threat. One interesting technique that Vonnegut uses is the hindsight of the narrator. Often, he describes a seemingly normal scene, but he adds on that a character was secretly carrying around ice-nine, which the narrator only learned later. It makes ice-nine into this unseen, unconfirmed, but ever-present danger.

When considering the overall themes of the book, ice-nine is also an important symbol. It represents nuclear bombs, of course, but it also represents what happens when scientists do not assume social responsibility. The scientist who makes ice-nine does it out of personal curiosity. Vonnegut argues that science cannot be only for the sake of knowledge itself. Scientists and the institutions they are a part of must consider the potential impacts of their research on the world.

Does ice-nine, in fact, kill?

Yes, it definitely does. It’s what causes the end of the world. Aside from the deaths from ecological damage, people die when ice-nine gets near their mouth, like if their hands were contaminated with it and they touch their lips. People freeze solid, hard as marble, with a blue-white sheen over their eyes and mouth. Even though it seems like a strange substance to be a stand-in for the atomic bomb, it is deadly, and some of the scenes in the book are a bit disturbing.

What does this say about the band’s name?

Honestly? Not much. I’ve listened to every song they’ve ever made, and I’ve never really picked up on any nuclear disarmament themes. I think they definitely chose the name because “ice-nine” sounds cool, and as they’ve said in interviews, they added the “kills” because there was another band in their area that was also called Ice Nine.

The best I can guess is that one or more of the original members had read the book, maybe in high school. If that’s true, then they might’ve picked the name for the sake of the gruesome danger associated with the term in the book.

Do you, an Ice Nine Kills fan, need to read this book?

No, definitely not. Please don’t read this book just because you’re an INK fan. It’s a fine book, but it’s not great. I enjoyed it, but I had wanted to read a Kurt Vonnegut book anyway. Do something else. Read Breakfast of Champions or Slaughterhouse Five or just go on AO3 and read slasher movie fanfiction.

[crazy56u]

Guess who has two thumbs and was effectively tricked into agreeing to work on his day off tonight?

Also, why the fuck is the title "Closure Encounters", I thought it was a typo at first...

No saga sell, we enter The X-Files and die like men, lets go.

"I'll go take a look", says the man about to be abducted by aliens...

Okay, legitimately, were those children real?

And why were there lawn gnomes?

Okay, given how "Star Light, Star Bright" actually did confirm aliens existed in the world of Quantum Leap, it's going to be interesting if this episode honors that.

"Look, maybe we can deal with the potential alien shit first, the relationship shit later?"

"Ziggy still doesn't know why you're here." Ziggy still doesn't know how to talk, Addison.

Project Sign flopped so Project Blue Book couldn't, checkmate, atheists.

Calling it: the police forced Carrie to take the blame.

And the car radio is being a real piece of shit right now.

"Pretty much remember everyone now." Meanwhile back at the Project, Tom starts to sweat and he doesn't know why.

"Can you take me through what happened?" "There was a car crash, and I wound up here." "Not what I meant."

They crossed into the Twilight Zone.

RULE OF THUMB: You cannot outrun a UFO, hitting the gas will only fuck you over.

My guess is that Melanie fell and hit her head, causing her coma.

"Like it or not, this is a criminal manner." "And I'm the criminal." Everyone's batting 1000 today.

Okay, calling it: the government is trying to cover up the UFO, so they moved the coma girl back into the car.

...or Russell Hunt did the coverup, honestly, either is likely at this stage. Not a good first impression.

"Say what you want, the law is on his side. Now if you excuse me, I have to be his lapdog."

"Okay, nine minutes of leap, one minute of Project, now you can't complain about us taking a break!"

I love the implication that it took Ben roughly eight hours to find a reflective surface.

"Could she really go to jail?" "Look, I don't wanna think about that right now, can I please just have a coffee?"

The atom bomb and yo-yos: Two horrors born out of World War II.

In this family, if you are a male, you either become the Sheriff, or you die. It's the 1940s, those are the rules.

So, is this a car chase scene, or...

Oh, how I so wish he just decided to floor it and play chicken- Okay, shut me the fuck up, then...

MORAL OF THE STORY: The sheriff has more stones than a random fuck with a hat.

"You're the one who called Project Sign." Honestly, did not expect that plot twist.

Addison, no need to state the obvious.

Okay, that's how you know the Sheriff is cool: He tampers with the crime scene to protect his granddaughter.

"I don't see why anyone would go out of their way to brush over their tracks." Yep, it's a coverup.

"Ben, I need to talk to you-" "Addison, if you are about to tell me there's no aliens, and Carrie is guilty, I am going to scream."

"Hey, this girl's in a coma, what do we do about it?" "Eh, just hang a cross over her head, it's the 1940s, that's good enough medical care."

"But it sounds so crazy..." "Honey, you're talking to a time traveler from 2022, possessing a man from the 1940s, investigating aliens."

My personal rule of thumb rears its head: Green is evil.

Ah, yes, that's smart, get Indiana Jones to help you beat up Agent Mulder in the middle of the street.

And now the Sheriff is packing.

So, basically, because Carrie crashed her car into Hunt's backyard, he has a fucking vendetta.

I will fucking laugh if Ben actually sees a UFO for real before he leaps out, and the Project is made to look like dummies.

"Addison, your ex-fiance is getting reckless, tell him to calm the fuck down." "Magic, I flushed my ring three years ago, I will do no such thing."

Calling it now, Hunt is in the middle of burning his helicopter in the middle of nowhere.

And back to the blue dimension.

"Grief is a strange thing." Well, according to Queen Elizabeth, and a shithead fanfic, grief is also the price we pay. [I will not be explaining the context to that latter bit.]

And the Imaging Chamber conked out, that's how you know it's aliens.

Also, soft confirmation that Janis isn't coming back for Season 2.

"SHIT, I ALWAYS WANTED TO SHOOT A UFO/HELICOPTER!"

And the cameraman snaps and mauls Raymond Lee.

[I don't know which is worse: The fact that Glade Pods had that guy make time stop by making love to his blanket, or the fact his name was Steve.]

And Ben wakes up either in the sheriff's house, or a fancy ass hotel.

Translation: Ben is openly suppressing his emotional problems.

Okay, so, did the cameraman inject Ben and Melanie with evil?

But when was the military ever exotic, Ben?

"You said you didn't believe in UFOs." "Well, I'm an open-minded man, and I hate Hunt more."

Okay, Ian, could you bottom-line what that drug was, I know you said Ben was right, but you just said gibberish to me.

Oh shit, a triangle.

Why does this 1940s neighborhood look like the 1980s?

And the sheriff is about to pull a Thelma and Louise.

"Ben, if the sheriff leaves, Hunt's going to send him to jail." "Yeah, I got that."

Is Ben going to get shot by the sheriff in broad daylight?

"Ben, you can't just walk into a military base, Ben why are you ignoring me?!"

"Look, I got a syringe of adrenaline, I'll be fine!"

Meanwhile, back at the Project, it's pointed out that Ben's plan is stupid.

This is the closest Ian has ever gotten to being in Independence Day.

And Ben chooses then and there to flip the fuck out over his relationship shit, like a sane man.

[Switching to WordPad.]

And Ben gets attacked by the Splinter Cell guy, and wakes up in Area 52, that's how you know this episode is sane.

Meanwhile, in MASH.

"DUMP THE BODY AND FLEE, MEN!"

"BEN, WAKE UP, YOU'RE SHIRTLESS!"

"Okay, we're in luck, my ghost was able to see everything, we have proof now!" "Son, did they fucking drug you with the hard shit this time?!"

And the climax takes place in an empty field.

Why does the Man in Black look like Kevin Costner?

This was the same mine they faked the Roswell Incident in.

Gamma blue 5, coincidentally enough, would later go on to be used in the invention of Monster Energy.

You know it's a good ending if the heroes are about to blackmail a new car out of the government.

"I don't know how best to thank you." "Just keep living your life, I guess, I dunno, the episode's almost over."

"Okay, I just trimmed my bonsai tree, now the migraine's kicking in."

Addison, he was just unconscious, it's not like they stabbed him in the jugular.

"Look, maybe I should just leave the show-" "Yeah, that ain't happening."

Is Tom the Poochie now? They basically just did a Poochie.

And while Magic talks to Phone Guy, Ben still hasn't leapt yet.

"All's well that ends well." There's three minutes left, Ben.

Annnnnnnnnd I am instantly suspicious of the waitress.

[Okay, am I wrong, or did it only get established it was 1949 right then and there?]

"Bye, Hannah." "Wait, no, Red vs. Blue taught me saying goodbye is bad!"

And Ben wakes up on the set of a heist movie.

[Next time on Quantum Leap: Ben discovers the horrors of Hollywood. On a completely unrelated note, the SAG-AFTRA strike is still ongoing.]

Truly, that was a closure encounter.

[helenaheissner]

MAGICAL GIRL EXORCIST SQUAD (Issue #13: The Floodwater Comes For Us All)

“D’ya really wanna do this? Here? Now?” Winona asked, hands raised, palms flat, backing up further into the woods. 

“Honestly? When I first heard you’d escaped the Floodwater, all I could think about was this moment. And the moments afterwards I’ll spend ripping you apart atom by atom. So yes, I think I want to do this here and now,” Astaroth, or rather, Astra, said. Her black hellfire blade shimmered with white moonlight; her purple eyes hungry for blood. 

“Are you entirely sure about that? Because with that sword, this whole forest goes up in smoke, and that sounds to me like more attention than you want,” Winona said. There was no way she could take Astaroth in a one-v-one, not when she had that sword. So, she would need to either weasel her way around this or find some way to disarm her opponent. Thank God for my disarming charm, she thought with a smirk. 

“What are you smirking about, girl?” 

“Oh, nothing.”

“Thought so,” Astra said. “Now, I believe you were about to explain as to why you’ve been harassing my Amanda.”

Winona’s smirk flowered into a cackle. “Fucking hellfire. What is it with deadbeat parents? They’re out for cigarettes for years, decades, even, but then they come back acting like they’ve been helicopters the whole time, like a few bits of lip service towards watching out for their kids makes up for all that negligence.”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t I? I mean shit, I’ve been stalking Amy for the past four years, but it takes you until now to show up? Shouldn’t you at least be carrying an oversized burlap sack with a dollar sign on it to cover all your child support?”

“Don’t start with me, kid,” Astra said, purple irises consuming the rest of her eyes. 

“I’m six hundred thousand years old,” Winona rolled her eyes. 

“And I’m six million. Everything’s relative,” Astra said, holding the edge of the sword to Winona’s throat. 

Oh, crap, Winona thought. Okay, time to bust out the truth-bombs. “Your daughter is a Magical Girl.”

“I know,” Astra grunted. Probably she did know, had known for a while, but still hadn’t figured out how to deal with that. Good. Winona could work with that. 

“Then you know you’ll have to fight her eventually, right?” Winona said. 

“Not necessarily.”

“Oh, and why’s that? You think you’re gonna win her over to your side? Your nice Christian girl daughter who has an actual family, an actual mother, who loves her to death? You think she’s gonna fall into line because the mom who walked out on her as a baby shows up and starts barking orders? How stupid are you?”

“Not as stupid as the girl mouthing off to someone pressing a hellfire sword to her throat,” Astra said, smiling with teeth. 

“My followers know I’m here,” Winona said. 

“So do mine.”

“So then this is how it starts? The Demon Legion versus the Army of Monsters, round one for the throne of Hell? Right here and now? Because if I die, my second in command has orders to slaughter all the pigs and let out all six hundred and sixty-six of my friends.”

“You’re bluffing,” Astra said. “You wouldn’t show your hand that easily.”

“Maybe not the old me, but as you’ve pointed out, I was in jail for over half a million years- it made me a little bit CRAZY!”

Wings of heavenly light erupted from Winona’s back, and a golden halo shone over her head. The wings clamped shut like a vice and wrapped around the handle of the infernal claymore, prying it from Astra’s hands, while the contact from the wings singed Astra’s skin and left harsh red marks. Astra stepped back, and when it was over, the sword was pointed at her throat. “Now I have a hellfire sword. Ho ho ho,” Winona said. 

“You know I have more of those, right, nephilim?” Astra said through grinding teeth. 

“I’m counting on it. And don’t be racist, you dirty fucking succubus.”

“Don’t start with me-”

“Or would you prefer ‘literal sex monster’? ‘Cause that works too. Maybe not as punchy, but still,” Winona said. 

“This isn’t over,” Astra said. 

“Damn right it’s not,” Winona said. “Now go. I still have plans for you, and much like with your smoking hot daughter, they’re harder to realize if you’re dead. So go scamper back to your dragon’s den, lick your wounds, and GO FUCK YOURSELF LIKE THE SLUT YOU ARE!”

Astra’s forehead-vein nearly popped. But instead, she vanished in a hail of purple fire. 

And with that, the Lady of the Legion was left alone with a sweet new hellfire sword. “Ho ho ho, bitch,” she said, twirling it about in her hands. Then, privately, she said, “I should really give Dad a call.”

***

Basketball practice freshman year, first on the court but last to play. It always started with Nicole and Travis, and if they were lucky it ended with them. The hazing wouldn’t stop no matter how good they were. If anything, that made it worse. Made Travis’ brother angrier and angrier. That and the fact that Nicole refused to do anything to stop him. Nick was a shield, not a sword- he couldn’t be used that way. And she could try as she might to shield the people around her, but it wouldn’t work. And she was already in a precarious position- if she screwed up, got into a fight, it might cost Mom her job. There wasn’t a right answer, which meant the right answer was no answer. Nothing could be done except to endure. And endure and endure and endure, even when Travis showed up to practice one day with a black eye on his face, and his brother Derek was grinning over it like he was laughing at a private joke. 

And this time, he looked at Nicole and said, “It is a joke. The joke is on you, you soft-hearted coward.”

He stood in front of the interior wall of the high school gym, only for a limo to crash through it and run him over. The driver’s seat opened, and Amy stepped out wearing a slinky black sequin gown and carrying a rifle. “Get in, loser! We’re going demon hunting!”

Nicole happily obliged, suddenly fresh from the salon and dressed to the nines, as Amy pulled her in for a makeout session inside a flying limo, soaring through a pink and blue void surrounded by unicorns playing the trombone. 

That was when Nicole woke up and got sad. 

“Why are you crying?” Cass asked, sitting in front of a television playing Super Smash Bros, wearing a flannel bathrobe and a towel around her hair. 

Nicole rubbed her eye and found she was in fact crying. Must’ve been the dream. Bad memories mixed with new feelings she wasn’t sure what to do with. She laid on a bed, beneath a yellow comforter in a room with golden wallpaper. The bed was pressed into a corner next to a window, out of which Nicole saw the beach, saw the sprawling expanse of the Atlantic Ocean, black and silver beneath the foggy night. A writing desk and chair sat at the foot of the bed, and a bookshelf packed with Marvel comics occupied the opposite corner. Just off to the side of that was a television and a Wii and a few bean bag chairs, as well as a makeup stand. The remaining wall consisted of a wardrobe full of clothes and a door that led out into the rest of the house. 

“I’d rather not say,” Nicole said. 

“Eh, fair enough,” Cass responded. She played as Samus, going up a platforming stage tearing through enemies. 

“Is this Amy’s room?” Nicole asked. 

“Yup. We’re at the Donahue house in Hull.”

“They live at the beach.”

“Nantasket Beach. Because they are filthy fucking rich.”

“Yeah, I noticed,” Nicole said. “Where are the others?”

“Well, Debbi kind of had to come out of the closet. She did that right when we got here.”

“Oh boy. How’d that go?”

“It went incredibly well. Victoria and Patrick are about the chillest people to ever walk the earth. But Debbi started crying so Patrick and Victoria took her and Heather out for a drive. Said they’re going to buy booze for dinner tonight.”

“Oh wow. Sounds like an interesting night for Heather too.”

“Yeaahhh there’s meeting the parents and then there’s this. Anyway, the boys are here standing guard while Amy makes dinner.”

“Amy’s cooking?” Nicole said, her mouth practically watering.

“Yup.”

“I should go help,” Nicole said, pushing her legs off the bed. 

“Enjoy,” Cass said with a flat affect. 

Nicole stepped towards the door, but stopped and looked at Cass. “Hey. Is everything alright?”

Cass didn’t answer, simply button-mashed with greater severity.

“Cass, come on. Please,” Nicole said. “Talk to me.”

Cass paused her game, basked in the glow of the television in the darkened bedroom. She didn’t move her head, didn’t adjust her tone. “You don’t know me, Nicole.”

“No, but I’d like to,” Nicole said with a gentle smile. 

“... I didn’t pry when you said you didn’t wanna tell me why you were crying. So why can’t you do the same for me?” Cass said, still not looking at her. 

Nicole blinked. “O… Okay. Fair enough. How about some quid pro quo then.”

“How about instead you gimme some fuckin’ space, blondie?” Cass said, finally looking at her, glaring at her, practically snarling. And yet there were tears in her eyes. 

Nicole balked. Best not to push on this one. Still, she wanted Cass to be okay- from what little Nicole had gleamed, Cass had been through so much already. And she normally wasn’t like this- she was reserved, a bit standoffish, but not openly hostile. Something had happened, something she would need to talk about if she wanted to be okay again. But now wasn’t the time- press too hard, and most people would break before they bent. “Alright,” Nicole said. “But I’m here if you need me. And if you ever wanna know why I was crying, you can just ask. You don’t have to tell me about yourself if you don’t want to.”

And with that, Nicole left and closed the door behind her, trying not to hear the sobbing on the other side. 

She stood at the top of a staircase, one other bedroom and a bathroom occupying the remainder of the floor. There was one more floor above, presumably an attic, while below was another floor consisting of three bedrooms and another bathroom. In one bedroom was Damian, who was busy throwing darts. In another was Jason, reading a book. She descended the rest of the stairs, arriving on the first floor. To her left was a sprawling living room with a massive television and a shamefully large DVD collection. Timothy was watching Double Indemnity, and the fourteen year old paused and gaped as soon as Nicole walked by. 

Nicole waved. 

The boy’s jaw dropped. He retrieved a blanket next to him and hid himself under it. 

“Don’t mind him, he’s only within the past year discovered girls,” a voice came from behind her. 

Nicole turned to find Richard carrying two cans of soda. “Ah, I see.”

“Hey Timmy, get out from under there- you’re missing the part with the indemnity,” Richard said with a knowing grin. 

Tim poked his head out.

“Here you go, you little weirdo,” Richard said, handing his little brother a soda. “Now say hi to our sisters’ teammate like a gentleman.”

“Hi,” Tim said, his voice cracking. He put a hand over his mouth.

Nicole giggled. “Hi, Tim. Good to see you.”

He hid back under the blanket. 

“I see the affinity for blondes runs in the family,” Richard rolled his eyes. “I blame Dad.”

“Beg pardon?” Nicole said. 

“Oh, nothing. Just go easy on our sister. She’s nuts, but we care about her, you understand?” Richard said. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about?” Nicole feigned.

“Sure, you don’t,” Richard said, cracking open the soda can. “Well, she’s in the kitchen if you wanna talk to her.”

Nicole nodded. “Enjoy your movie!” 

“Will do!” Richard said, raising his drink, then clinking it on the side of Tim’s submerged head. “Look here, Timmy. See how Wilder’s constructing this scene- it’s brilliant.”

Nicole followed the hallway into the kitchen, where she found Amy putting onions, carrots, garlic, and chicken into a big pot. They sizzled, releasing a tantalizing aroma into the kitchen. She poured on a generous spray of curry powder while everything cooked together. 

“Japanese curry?” Nicole asked. 

Amy jumped slightly, then said, “Yeah. Standard yellow curry. Glad you’re awake. How are you doing?”

“Not bad. A little stiff, but I’ll manage. Do you want any help?”

“No.”

“No?”

“No, you worked yourself unconscious again,” Amy said, stirring the ingredients with a wooden spoon and turning up the heat. “Twice in two days, in fact.”

“So?”

“So, I’m worried about you- you’re gonna hurt yourself. What if you pass out and miss a fight? Or, I dunno, a class or something? Or a cat stuck in a tree?”

“I’d be mortified,” Nicole said, rubbing the back of her head. 

“Exactly, now sit down,” Amy said, pointing at a wooden chair situated at the kitchen table. “You can taste-test if you want, but I’m handling this. It’s the least I can do.”

“What does that mean?” Nicole asked, sitting down. 

“Everyone else is dealing with heavy stuff right now,” Amy said. “I’m just trying to help.”

“I mean… You’re dealing with stuff too, Amy,” Nicole said. 

“Yeah, but… Debbi is doing something huge right now. Heather is supporting her. You’re working yourself to the bone everyday. Cass is clearly going through something else on top of all this Prophecy crap. My problems aren’t much next to all that. And honestly, this relaxes me.”

“You do look very Zen doing that,” Nicole said, resting her chin on the kitchen table. 

“Thanks,” Amy said. “Eight mouths to feed, Mom needed all the help she could get.”

“Makes sense. How are you feeling, though?”

“I… I think I’m ready to finish that conversation we were having yesterday,” Amy said. 

Nicole gulped, and a sickly-sweet sensation overtook her. “A-are you sure?”

“If you are,” Amy said, pouring two cups of water into the pot. “This will need a few minutes. Step outside with me?” 

It took her a moment, but finally, Nicole said, “Okay.”

Amy went into the mudroom off to the side of the kitchen and retrieved two white overcoats. She put one around herself and the other around Nicole, and Nicole felt the sickness start to diminish. It was all turning sweet.

They stepped onto the sand and walked barefoot on the foggy beach, stopping a few inches before where the water met the land. Low-hanging clouds drifted over Nicole’s skin, and it reminded her of flying. And of home. Not Manchester, but her father’s boat, the Sunshower. “You ever do any boating?” Nicole asked. 

“No, why?” Amy said.

“It’s just something I love doing, ever since I was a kid,” Nicole said. “My dad would be away for a while at a time, but then he’d come back, and we’d have a grand old time together, but I could always tell he didn’t feel totally at home on land. Like his sea-legs had overtaken his land-legs. So, over the summer, I’d start going out on the boat with him. We’d go to the coast and launch the boat, stay in a hotel for a week, come home with a haul of fish and sell it. It was freeing- no ground underneath us, just a wide-open sea to navigate. It could toss us about, try to get us to go one way or the other, but at the end of the day, it was all there for us, stretching out as far as the eye could see. Sometimes we’d be out all day and we’d watch the sun set into the horizon, casting this red and gold glow over the water, like we were bathing in the light.”

Amy smiled. “That sounds nice.”

“It was. Flying reminds of it, especially when the sun sets or comes up. There’s this freedom to it that I can’t quite describe but… Sometimes it’s like I never wanna get on solid ground again.”

“So what brings you back to shore? And back to the ground?” Amy asked.

“The people I care about,” Nicole said simply.

Amy gave a shallow nod. 

“So,” Nicole asked. “Aidan accused you of having feelings for me.”

“He did,” Amy said.

“Is it true?”

Amy paused for a moment, stared at the ground. A crab scuttled past them, returned to the sea where it belonged. “Yes. I do have feelings for you. And they’re… And they’re romantic ones. I like you, Nicole Nygaard. I’ve… I’ve never really felt this way about a girl before, at least not consciously. But you’re a girl, and I like you. And if that means that I like girls, then… Well then, I guess I like girls.”

Nicole’s head spun. She couldn’t believe it. This was insane. Her heart pounded inside her chest, and the reverberations shook her vision out of focus. A giddiness ran through her, a sense of validation and euphoria unlike any other she’d ever felt. She breathed in the salt-air, the fog tickling her skin. It was all almost too much, especially when a part of her, the rational, structural part of her mind, kept telling her to run away, that this was a trick, that she would only get hurt from this, that Amy hadn’t really changed. 

But I have, Nicole thought. 

Amy took a sharp breath. Then another, then another. 

“Hey,” Nicole said. “You’re okay. This is okay.”

“I… I just… I’m so scared. That was so scary,” Amy said. She was shaking, holding her arms together and rubbing them.

“Coming out? Yeah, it’s incredibly scary,” Nicole said. “Why don’t we go back inside, get you warm. Your pot is probably boiling by now-”

“No!” Amy said. “I just… Please. I need to know: how do you feel about me? You’ve had a whole day to think about it, same as I have. Please. Tell me.”

The words got lodged where the back of Nicole’s mouth met the front of her throat. She wasn’t sure how she felt- she was being torn two ways, and neither one seemed like a safe road to travel. “Amy, you’re… You’re really pretty. And you’re nerdy and funny, and you’re a sweetheart under the right circumstances. But I don’t know if this is a good idea- we’re teammates, and we’re roommates, and we’re friends. I don’t know if I’m comfortable risking all that-”

“That’s not what I’m asking,” Amy shook her head. “I’m asking how you feel about me. That’s all. Not anything else, not practical considerations. I know I… I hurt you, when you were in a sensitive place. And that was wrong of me. But I’ve changed and I… I…”

She needs to hear it, Nicole thought. But do I? It doesn’t sound so bad, being with her. I don’t think she’d ever hurt me again, at least not deliberately. And it would help her. It would help her a lot if I could be that for her. She needs a rock, and she wants it to be me. 

It’s the right thing to do.

So why does it feel wrong?

Nicole reached out a hand. Amy took it. Her hand was warm and soft and steady. Nicole started, “I think, maybe, I-”

“Well well well well well. Well well well well well well well well wellllllll,” came a high, shrill voice behind them. “What the fuck do we have here? Amy, you lying little minx- you told me you don’t like girls.”

Nicole let go of Amy’s hand and snapped to attention. “Winona?”

“Hiiiiiiiiiiii,” said the girl without any semblance of boundaries. She walked up to them, waving with both hands. 

“What the hell are you doing on my family’s property?” Amy spat. 

“Hey, last I checked this is a public beach,” Winona rolled her eyes, still marching towards them. “Now, seriously- what the hell, Ames? You’ve been holding out on me.”

“No, no I haven’t,” Amy growled. “Now get out of here.”

“Not until I get an answer- what’s this girl got that I haven’t? Why’s she your closet key and not me? C’mon- that’s not fair? Is it a race thing?”

“Winona,” Nicole said. “I don’t know what you’re doing here-”

“I followed you here, that’s what I’m doing here,” Winona said, smiling widely and giving the thumbs-up. “It’s because I’m stalking you, dearie.”

“I’m sorry, what?” Nicole said, eyes narrowing. What the heck was wrong with this girl?!

“I’ve been following both of you around for a while now. Mostly Ames and Cassie. You’re a recent addition to my portfolio, Nikki, though I’ve gotta say you’re really interesting in your own right. Any chance you’ll reconsider going out with me?”

“No,” Amy said. 

“Aw, Ames- speaking for others again? Why do you gotta make everything about you?”

“I’m calling the police,” Nicole said. 

“With what phones? You left them inside, remember?” Winona smirked. 

Terror rippled through Nicole. 

Amy stepped forward, fists balled. “Get. The hell. Away from my family.”

“Mmmmm no!” Winona laughed. 

She snapped her fingers, a blue burst of concussive energy exploded silently in Amy and Nicole’s faces, propelling them back into the ocean.

Nicole tumbled through the air, only to land in Amy’s arms. She’d fully transformed already, and a determined look was carved into her face by the night’s horrible circumstances. Nicole beamed at the older girl, who gave her a cocky grin. 

“We’ll make a cheerleader of you yet, Nygaard,” Amy said. “Now hurry up and transform so we can take this bitch down!”

“Right!” Nicole said, jumping from Amy’s arms and engulfing herself in God’s white light. She landed on her broomstick and skimmed the surface of the ocean as she launched herself towards Winona. 

Surrounding herself with Pink Light seemed to act like a sort of shield against attack- the only drawback to it was how quickly it exhausted her. She would need to be conservative with it, only summon her shield when an attack was actually upon her-

- like right now! Eep!��Nicole thought as another blue-white missile launched at her. She swerved left and summoned the shield, and the missile winged her right side. The force of the impact shook Nicole through the shield, but she kept flying. She reached the shore and channeled white light into her fist and buried it in Winona’s gut. 

Winona grunted. 

And absolutely nothing else happened. 

Nicole’s face warped with shock as she retrieved her fist and launched another attack. She struck Winona in the face, only for the other girl to deflect it and throw her own punch, forcing Nicole to back up. More and more, until Nicole realized they were in the water.

Actually, they were over the water. Winona was floating just as easily as Nicole was. 

Nicole’s eyes bugged out, and her jaw dropped. 

“Not a demon, sweetie,” Winona said. “Not even a cambion like your little whore back th-”

She stopped when the fog rolling in from the sea became laced with shadows. A thick blanket of darkness settled around them, forming a circular wall. Winona performed a series of double-takes as she searched for a way out, while the circular wall formed a dome. 

Nicole punched Winona in the face, knocking her into the water. Winona flew out of the way of the water’s surface, white-light wings erupting from her back, a halo crowning her head, her eyes howling with heavenly light. 

“Y-you-you’re an angel,” Nicole said, jaw plummeting into the ocean depths.

“Awww, you’re so sweet, no wonder she picked you and not me,” Winona said. “To be precise, though, I’m a Nephilim. Born to one of the Watchers before the Flood. And I’ve been waiting a very long time for my day in the sun.”

Nicole flew upwards, and the Nephilim followed with a flap of her wings. Propelled through the sky, giving chase, fog and darkness on all sides.

From out of the darkness, a broomstick emerged, shooting out and nearly jabbing Winona in the throat. She swatted it away, and said, “Hah! Nice try-”

That was when Amy fell from the sky and buried the bottom of her foot into the top of Winona’s skull. The Nephilim grunted and fell to the ocean below as the shadows cleared. 

“Nice!” Nicole said, Amy shining in her eyes.

“Thanks!” Amy grinned. She stuck out her hands and painted the spot where Winona had landed below with another swath of shadows, trapping Winona beneath a sheet of darkness. 

White light exploded all around, dispelling the shadows as an angry angelic figure shot through the sky towards them. Nicole and Amy flew in separate directions, and Nicole jerked her head around to find Winona chasing Amy. 

Nicole turned and launched herself at the Nephilim. Even if she wasn’t a demon, she had to have some kind of weakness. 

Nicole summoned her shield and rammed into Winona, pushing them both below the water’s surface. 

That was when Winona screamed, exploding with heavenly light and pushing all the water around aside. A cavity was left in the sea, and Winona flew out of it. Nicole barely managed to do the same before the water came rushing back in. Her chest throbbed with exhaustion, but that seemed to have worked- Winona hated being underwater. 

Now to exploit that. 

“What do you even want?!” Nicole screamed. “Why are you doing any of this?! Why?”

“Because I need to,” Winona said, a pained smile gracing her lips. “And because I can’t do this without her!”

“Well you can’t have me!” Amy said. “Now get out of here!” 

Winona cackled. “Who’s gonna make me? You?!”

“YOU’RE GODDAMNED RIGHT I AM!” Amy screamed, charging Winona, a trail of shadows running behind her. Winona flew into the sky, and Nicole and Amy chased after her, zipping and zooming about as the Nephilim turned and pivoted and accelerated and decelerated. 

When they were far enough from the shore, Amy blanketed everything behind them in shadows. 

“You think that’ll stop me!” Winona said. “Amy, Amy, Amy- I’m a the daughter of one of the Sons of God- you think shadows are something I’m concerned about?! Uncle Samael held me in his arms as a baby and showed me right then and there that all you need to deal with shadows IS A LITTLE MORE LIGHT!”

A column of radiance erupted from behind the shadow wall, blinding Winona. Nicole clamped her eyes shut, but she heard Debbi’s voice cry out, “I COULDN’T AGREE MORE, BITCH!”

Nicole opened her eyes to find Debbi and Heather double-punching Winona in the gut and the face respectively, sending her tumbling backwards before she extended her wings and cushioned the fall. 

The four of them loomed over Winona. 

“Did you guys just get back?” Amy asked. “Where are-”

“The boys were waiting for us outside when we got back,” Debbi said. “They heard the explosions on the beach and loaded up the pets and emergency supplies into a car. Mom and Dad are already getting them to safety.”

“Oh, thank God,” Amy said, hand over her heart. “Wait, where’s Cass?”

“... We thought she was with you?” Heather said, face dropping with concern. 

Debbi and Amy both glared at Winona. “WHERE THE FUCK IS OUR SISTER!” 

“I dunno,” Winona shrugged. “You can’t blame me for every bad thing that happens to y’all- that’s just reductive. And fatalistic. And-”

“Nicole, hit me,” Heather said. 

Nicole happily obliged, tossing a softball of Pink Healing Light at Heather. Heather buried her fist in Winona’s face, and then again, again, again, again, until Winona exploded with energy and sent her flying back. And Heather simply leaped back into the fray, fighting mid-air as Winona blocked and deflected and threw her own punches.

“Nicole, we’re gonna need you to supercharge us,” Debbi said. 

“We still don’t know what’ll happen when I do that to you and Amy,” Nicole said. 

“Yeah, but we don’t have much in the way of options here- we’re fighting an angel for fuck’s sake!”

“Point,” Nicole said. “Float up to me.”

Into both her hands she channeled her Pink Healing Light, a boost of electrifying energy from deep within her soul, the part closest to God, the part that most intimately knew His love and His power. A rapturous, exhausting sensation pumped through her, and she put her glowing hands on the shoulders of both Donahue sisters. 

And forward they flew. Nicole took to the front and summoned more pink light to form her shield, the place next to her heart thrumming. Debbi and Amy flanked her, and Debbi shot a pike of white light forward. Mid-flight it erupted into a purple energy flare. Heather ducked out of the way of the energy-javelin, and it exploded right upon contacting Winona’s chest and sent her flying back. 

Amy did the same, and her shadows ignited into a black pyre, obsidian flames laced with golden edges, while the stench of brimstone filled the air. 

Nicole recognized it as Hellfire. And by the look on her face, so did Amy. Her visage warped with horror as the jet of black flame tore through Winona’s wing and sent her tumbling below the water.

For a second, it was over. There was nothing but the four of them levitating over the ocean, the horrible realization of Amy’s full power threatening to drag them beneath the surface with their enemy.

And then the explosion happened, launching a tsunami at them. It was a wall of oceanic wrath, rising at least twenty feet high and barreling towards them, towards the shore behind them, towards the homes both empty and occupied.

“Heather!” Nicole said. “I’m gonna recharge you. Can you-”

“Hell yeah I can!” Heather screamed. 

Nicole summoned one last burst of Pink Light and supercharged Heather. Heather launched forward and punched the tsunami with all her might, and the wave shattered and released a shockwave hurdling them all backwards. 

They landed on the shore. Nicole was bruised all over, sore in places she didn’t remember having. She willed the Light through herself, forcing herself to heal even as it exhausted her more and more. She got up and healed Debbi first, then Heather, and then she got to Amy. 

Amy stared at her hands. They were trembling as black flames spiked from them, and she breathed rapid, shallow breaths. 

The horizon was clear, Winona having evidently flown away. The stench of brine and sulfur polluted the air. Amy kept burning, and burning, and burning. “This is… I’m… I’m… Oh God. Oh God it’s true.”

“Amy,” Debbi said, “You don’t know that. You don’t know what this is.”

“What the fuck else could it be?” she whispered. “It looks like Hellfire. It smells like Hellfire. It ate through an angel’s wing, when your purple energy didn’t do the same. It’s Hellfire. I’m a cambion. I’m… Oh, God, no- I’m a monster!”

On instinct, Nicole grabbed Amy’s hands, the Hellfire unable to break through the shields of Pink Light. “Amy. You’re not a monster. I promise you. No matter who your mother is, no matter what your heritage, you are completely and beautifully human as far everyone else is concerned. You’re here with your sister, and your friend, and with… With me. Someone who cares about you more than you can possibly imagine. It’s okay. You’re okay. And no matter what happens, God still loves you. He loves all His children, you included. If He didn’t, he wouldn’t have made you a Magical Girl. So, remember that you’re okay. We all still love you.”

The Hellfire slowly died away as Amy sobbed and collapsed in Nicole’s arms. Nicole held her for a while, sitting with her on the beach and propping her up. 

Eventually, Nicole turned to Debbi and Heather. “Why don’t you guys go get the rest of the Donahues and tell them it’s safe to come back. After that, we should go look for Cass, make sure she’s okay.”

“That sounds good,” Heather said, nodding. 

“I don’t,” Debbi stammered, “I can’t just leave my sister like this.”

“Babe,” Heather said, smiling gently, “Nicole’s got this.”

And with that, the purple and green magical girls took flight and left them there. Nicole stroked Amy’s hair while she sobbed, and she knew at that moment that she wanted no harm to ever come to Amy again. No matter what, she cared for this girl. That scared her, that outraged her, and that confused her, but at the same time, she couldn’t deny. She wasn’t ready to admit it, and yet the words fell from her lips: “I have feelings for you too, Amy.”

Amy looked up at her with wide, wet verdant eyes. “Even though I’m a freak?”

“You’re no more a freak than I am,” Nicole said gently. “I promise you.”

“What’s gonna happen now?” Amy asked. “Everything I knew feels like a lie, and Winona is on the warpath. We’re not safe.”

“We’re never safe,” Nicole said. “That’s why we have to keep fighting. But right now… Right now we need to catch our breath and regroup. Together.”

Amy nodded, and Nicole held her there as the fog parted and the full moon came into view overhead, shining its light over the two of them as they kept each other warm. 

An ominous feeling crept into Nicole’s gut. Tonight was a warning. Things were on the move. Things were changing. She wasn’t sure how she felt about that, and she wasn’t sure which of the night’s revelations scared her most. She swallowed it, and decided it could wait. For now, this was enough. It didn’t feel entirely right, but for right now, it was enough. 

[obeythedemons]

The Oxymorons of Hell [Obey Me!: Diavolo/MC]

A/N: I honestly had no idea where I was going with this, I simply wanted Diavolo fluff.

Obey Me! Masterlist

--

When Hell rained from above, was when humanity knew that the end was near. And yet, they ignored the signs of atomic bombs, of acid rain, of ash lacing every breath they took. Nothing good came from above. To be fair, nothing good came from below either.

It was when they found that they had been summoned to literal Hell, that they realized that perhaps Hell was not the best word to describe what had happened to the Human Realm. No, this Hell was nice. Most of the realm was lined with ancient trees, trees that told stories older than the oldest of kings. Their leaves somehow survived in the sunless realm, cleaning the air. They found that their lungs didn’t sting as much to inhale.

While true, the soil could have been better, it wasn’t giving away to landslides after a season of raging fires and then a season of torrential rains like there were back home. They held firm, allowing the residents of Devildom to safely build their homes. It was a place for MC to build their new home, build their new life.

They gazed out from the balcony of Lord Diavolo’s castle. The flickering lights were peaceful in the city, not telling of the murders, robberies, or poverty that would have been found in the Human Realm. Here, Lord Diavolo worked to ensure that the citizens were taken care of. Educating the masses, feeding the hungry, and ensuring those around could have enough left over for leisure.

MC still did have to look over their shoulder. Demons did view human souls as a delicacy, one that tempted them. They didn’t fault them for that, but they also didn’t want to have their soul devoured.

“Ah, there you are, MC!” MC turned away from the flickering lights to the grandeur behind them. Diavolo’s form was backlit by the lights from within his castle. His demon form towered over MC’s human one. “I was worried when I couldn’t find you.”

MC gave him a small smile. “I’m sorry for worrying you.”

Diavolo dismissed their apology with a wave of a hand. “Don’t be.” He took a couple of long steps towards MC and stood beside them on the balcony, looking over his kingdom. He glanced from the city to MC, a light glow reflecting off of their face. “Are you alright? Is the party not to your liking?”

“I’m fine, just needed a breather,” MC chose their words carefully, something Diavolo noted as a trait he quite liked. Though, he would admit he’d like MC to speak their mind more freely every now and again.

“There’s something else,” he pushed.

“Mmm, maybe,” MC hummed, still thinking. They turned to face the crowned prince fully. “I’m not trying to hind it from you, I just don’t know how to really put it into words.”

“Oh?” Diavolo shifted so he was also facing MC fully. “Care to try?” MC looked away from him, slightly embarrassed. “It’s fine if you mess up.”

MC looked up at him, growing encouraged by his kind words. “Even if I stutter?”

Diavolo chuckled lightly. “Yes, even if you stutter. A stutter does not diminish the words that are being spoken.”

MC nodded. Their fingers tapped onto the railing of the balcony while they thought some more. “It’s just…I…I think it’s odd, how much more, more comfortable I am here than in the Human Realm.” They paused for a moment. “The Human Realm is destroying itself.”

Diavolo frowned. He placed a hand over MC’s hand that was tracing the railing’s pattern. “And that saddens you?”

“Of course it does,” MC mumbled. “It’s where I was born. Just like how you want to improve Devildom, I want to improve the Human Realm. But I’m…I’m just me.”

Diavolo interlaced his fingers with MC’s. “And that’s perhaps the greatest thing you can be, MC.” MC looked up at him, their eyes narrowed in confusion. “Do you think I was able to bring about these changes by myself? No, I had Barbatos, Lucifer and his brothers, the professors at RAD, and so many others. Together we made instrumental changes. It helped that I had my background, but I could not have done it alone.” Diavolo raised his free hand and moved some hair out of MC’s face. “You are not alone to bring changes to the Human Realm.”

“But I don’t have money or power,” MC retorted.

“I do,” Lord Diavolo chuckled. “The brothers all do. Do not underestimate what some demonic influence could do on the Human Realm.” He paused and glanced back towards where the others were gathered in his castle. “I’m sure you could also rope in a couple of angels and a witty sorcerer as well.” He looked back at MC. The corners of his mouth turned up and his eyes softened. “You do realize you have all of us wrapped around your finger, don’t you?”

“Ah, I wouldn’t go as far as to say that,” MC stammered.

Diavolo chuckled. “While I do believe it’s true, I cannot speak for the others. I can only speak for myself. And for me,” he paused. He took in MC’s appearance, the beautiful soul that hid behind their eyes. “As for myself, I would do anything for you.”

MC stiffened. They looked up at the next king of Hell, how he wore a kind smile. A smile that at times was an agonized frown as he pondered over what would be the best course of action to take for Devildom – even if said course of action was painful. MC smiled at him and squeezed his hand.

“And I’d do anything for you and your kingdom.”

Diavolo laughed lightly. He leaned forward and unashamedly placed a light kiss on MC’s forehead. “You’ll make a great ruler by my side, MC.” Joy danced around in his heart seeing the flustered, but happy expression on MC’s face. “A kind and fair and thoughtful ruler.”

[ask-megamind-blue-defender]

Ollo Megamind!

I'm big fan of both you and baseball so I'm curious about something. What would happen if someone could pitch a fastball at the speed of light? As an alien genius, I'm betting you have an answer?

Ollo back!

Let me start off with a little shout-out. Believe it or not, I’m not the first scientific mind to be asked such a thing. (Sometimes I worry about humans.) Randall Munroe has an extremely entertaining book called What If: Serious Scientific Answers to Absurd Hypothetical Questions. Lots of fun and physics; great for a little light reading. Especially when you’ve had a hard day because the Doom Syndicate is being spectacularly annoying and the teleportation device you’ve been working on simply won’t function like the math says it should.

And you’ve just discovered that all the apples you’ve been throwing through it have been hurtling out of (seemingly) midair into your fishy sidekick’s sewing room with enough force to turn them into applesauce explosions.

So now he’s threatening to change the wifi password again. (Honestly, Minion! Be reasonable!)

Anyway, if you’ve ever wondered what would happen if you swam in a nuclear reactor pool (surprisingly little) or if you launched a mole of moles into space (it’s not good) then… well, firstly, I have some questions. But secondly, you might enjoy that book, (and it might save you from performing some unwise experiments yourself.) So purchase it from your favorite independent bookstore (support small businesses!) or check it out from your local library (support those, too!)

Moving on…

Whoever you're betting against, tell them to pay up, because your favorite Heroic Genius and Master of All Sciences does, indeed, have an answer!

A lightspeed fastball might sound pretty amazing, but it would absolutely ruin the day for more people than the batter. Oh, the batter would certainly hate it. But so would the catcher. And all the rest of the players. And the fans. And SO many others.

It would be just plain bad.

How bad is bad? Even if the ball isn’t quite traveling at the speed of light, (let’s say it’s going 99 percent of that speed, much like the Helical Engine NASA recently designed,) the results would be catastrophic. And the problem starts with a seemingly unassuming culprit: the air we breathe.

You see, air molecules are fast, vibrating at hundreds of miles per second, but they’re nowhere near lightspeed fast. And that’s an issue. Because the ball, which is now traveling at over 180,000 miles per second, or 600 million miles per hour, breaks the laws of aerodynamics. Like Sunday afternoon drivers on US Highway 2 when I’m called to duty, the poor air molecules are simply too slow to get out of the way in time. (I’m just kidding. About the drivers. Not about the molecules.) That means that the atoms of those molecules hit the ball so hard they become one with the atoms of the ball. Which is not nearly as romantic as it sounds. Basically, they create constant fusion in front of the hurdling object. And if you know anything about how A-bombs work, you know that uncontrolled atom fusion fits quite nicely into the Nope Not Good category.

The force of that fusion would slow the ball down very slightly, but not nearly enough. What it would do is cause bits of the ball to fly off in every direction, also at near-lightspeed, like tiny little fragments of destructive doom. These would also create fusion. Three or four reactions in all. Meaning that everyone’s life just got A LOT worse. And a lot shorter.

Because one thing is certain: sudden, uncontrolled fusion in a crowded baseball stadium would make a lot of people very, very unhappy.

It pretty much goes downhill from there.

A fraction of a second after the ball is thrown—a little less than 0.7 seconds, to be more accurate—the catcher will still see the pitcher holding the ball. But he’s not. It’s just that the light carrying the information “ball incoming” will arrive at almost the same time as the ball itself.

Except it’s NOT a ball anymore. Interactions with air molecules will have transformed it into a bullet-shaped mass of plasma hurtling through the air with extremely deadly speed. So don’t worry. The catcher doesn’t need to worry about being hit by a stray super-fastball. Nor does anyone else.

They just need to worry about the explosion.

Remember when I said the ball is plasma now? Yes, well, uncontrolled plasma rapidly expands. Which is a nice way of saying it pretty much goes boom. (You would not BELIEVE the years of calculations and extremely precise engineering necessary to safely create the plasma laser Death setting on my De-Gun.) Anyway, the plasma cloud bullet, made mainly of hydrogen, nitrogen, oxygen, and, of course, carbon left over from the destroyed matter, is expanding so fast that it creates (guess what?!) more fusion!

Houston, we have a chain reaction!

Now, the pitcher doesn’t know about the horror they’ve unleashed on the world; they’ve already disintegrated. The batter and the catcher aren’t far behind. Gamma rays, x-rays, and white-hot plasma will reach them in milliseconds and they’ll vanish into dust at about the same time they’re hurled backward at incredible speeds.

Basically, the same thing will happen to the other players, the fans, and the ballpark itself. With a flash of light so blinding it outshines the sun, a skyward fireball, and a pretty impressive mushroom cloud, it will be Game Over for everyone involved.

That’s when things will get really messy.

Because we’ve still got the blast wave and the firestorm to deal with. All that displaced air will have to go somewhere, and it will be under a lot of pressure. I mean A LOT of pressure. It will roar across the landscape for about a mile in every direction at speeds nearly twice as fast as the most powerful hurricane winds ever recorded. (More specifically, the shock wave will travel at about 440 miles per hour, faster than the speed of sound.) Trees and buildings will be ripped into kindling as it goes. And the people caught in the path of all that super-fast debris? Well, like I said… It will get messy.

Even beyond that point, the sonic boom will shatter glass for an impressive distance, making this the most epic example of breaking windows with a baseball in human history. Homeowners will be livid. But not for long because soon afterward most of the city will be a flambé. So, in the end, the baseball stadium is a crater, an entire mile-wide radius around it is as flat as a pancake, and everybody else is on fire. A bad day all around.

In short, if you’re thinking about asking my predecessor, Metroman, to join your baseball team, I would VERY strongly advise against it.

—Megamind, Defender of Metrocity

[classic80sand90smovieloves2]

Meeting and Dating Marty McFly

(Not my gif)(Requested by anonymous)

- You and Marty grew up in the same, relatively small, town so it was pretty difficult not to; at the very least, have heard of each other by the time you reached high school. 

- I mean, growing up, if you weren’t in the same class then chances were you were only a few doors down or riding home on the same bus; a fact which had been the case since elementary school. And with Marty's tendency to get himself into trouble, he wasn’t exactly the type of person who orbited outside of your schools gossip circle. 

- Pretty much everyone in your school had their own little rumor that they’d heard about the McFly boy; you included, and whether they painted him in good or bad light depended on the person. You’d heard stories ranging from him building an atomic bomb with Dr. Emmett Brown to him being late to first period everyday since the fifth grade. 

- You’d learned to take them with a grain of salt; though whether or not that had anything to do with your secret crush on the boy is anyone's guess. 

- And though you felt a bit silly having a crush on a boy who you’d barely talked to and who most of your friends believed was the evil partner of some mad scientist, time would prove that you weren’t the only person harboring a crush in this little scenario of yours. 

- Unbeknownst to you, Marty had been in love with you and planning on asking you out ever since freshman year. He’d debated on how to do it time and time again, agonizing over what to say or do as though it was the hardest thing a person could have to go through. 

- He’s terrified of the prospect of rejection; which is the big reason he doesn’t ask you out sooner. He doesn’t know if he could handle that kind of rejection. 

- Nevertheless, the time finally comes about halfway through your sophomore year of high school....

- For all his worrying, him asking you out had gone almost embarrassingly smoothly. He’d approached you at your locker, said your name and asked if you’d want to see a movie with him that Friday night. 

- And you’d said yes, just like that; writing down your number for him and saying goodbye as you headed to your next class. If he hadn't been so happy he would have been scolding himself for waiting so long. 

- He spent the rest of that day clutching that scrap of paper in his hand; hardly believing his luck. 

- As I mentioned before: for your first date, the two of you go to the movies. You sit through some old Clint Eastwood film while he nervously manages to slip his hand into yours as its laying against your armrest; an action that has you biting back a smile. 

- The two of you share your first kiss later that night. He’d walked you to your front door and you’d said goodnight, chastely pressing your lips to his before you went inside. 

- As quick as it was, it was enough to have him smiling and pumping his fist as he dashed off your porch; just barely restraining himself from whooping and hollering in the middle of the street at 10 o’clock at night. 

- And just like that, your future together begins. 

- Marty is big on Pda. He doesn’t care who’s watching so you’ll be doing a lot of swerving away from kisses; ignoring his pouting and/or whines, and pulling his hands away from your waist.

- His arm wrapped around your shoulders while you wrap your own arm around his waist; or put your hand in his back pocket.

- Holding hands.

- He really likes putting his hands on your waist. It’s usually to pull you into a kiss but sometimes he’ll just do it for no real reason at all; besides wanting to touch you I guess.

- Soft, deep kisses.

- Fair warning: a lot of your kisses are going to be interrupted by something or someone; usually Doc. Marty lives a chaotic life and if you’re going to be with him, you’re going to be swept up in that chaos.

- Honestly, Marty is constantly trying to make out with you and it’s lowkey a problem. Like, I’m sorry babe, but I’m not gonna tongue you in public and you’re just gonna have to live with that.

- Marty loves cuddling; and I’m sure you do too, the only problem is that Marty doesn’t budge whenever you do cuddle, so you have to resign yourself to being in his arms for at least an hour every time you want to snuggle.

- The two of you usually cuddle with him as the big spoon; his arms wrapped tight around you and his face smushed into your hair and the pillow. Although, he’ll sometimes want to be the little spoon or something similar.

- He tends to just call you by your given name or a shorter version of it; if that’s possible, but he does enjoy whenever you give him pet names. The cuter the better honestly; …just don’t use them in public.

- Once the two of you are together, he feels like he doesn’t have to worry about looking stupid, so he’ll just say all the sweet things that he’s wanted to say to you. Like how you’re the most beautiful girl in the world and that destiny brought the two of you together.

- Wearing each other’s clothes. His patterned shirts are a staple of your wardrobe and he’s constantly stealing your sweaters and band tees; and your fuzzy pajama pants whenever he stays the night.

- Borrowing each other’s cassettes and lending each other your Walkman's between periods.

- Helping him get into school and avoid detention whenever he’s late; which is incredibly often.

- Walking to class and home from school together.

- Him skateboarding beside you while you walk. If you know how, the two of you will skateboard together, but if you don’t, you’ll usually just watch him fondly while he does and occasionally let him try to teach you.

- Going to convenience stores together. He likes playing the arcade games they’ve got there.

- Playing video games with him or watching him play. He likes showing off whenever you watch him.

- Watching mtv and dancing together. Marty was all too ready to break out that moonwalk, that’s all I’m saying.

- Movie dates.

- Taking trips up to the lake.

- Going stargazing.

- Him sneaking out or lying to his parents to see you. The two of you occasionally wind up getting into shenanigans in an attempt to get him back home/sneak him back into his room; or you’ll come up with elaborate lies to keep him out of trouble.

- Marty sort of doesn’t want to bring you around his place; especially in the original timeline, so the two of you usually hangout someplace outside or at your house; or occasionally at the lab when Doc isn't around.

- Having a fondness for his parents even if he’s somewhat embarrassed by them.

- Believing in him and defending him when nobody else does.

- Comforting him whenever he thinks that he’s bombed an audition and reassuring him whenever he loses faith in himself and his music.

- Going to his bands rehearsals, shows, and recordings.

- Inside jokes.

- Developing each other’s different mannerisms and quirks. Karma came back and bit you in the ass for teasing him about saying “heavy” so much.

- He likes when you show him your different hobbies and always supports them. He’d be happy to read your stories or get your artwork for gifts or go to your games/let you teach him how to play different sports.

- Being introduced to Doc and shown his inventions or helping the two of them out in the lab from time to time.

- Walking Einstein with him and taking him to the dog park.

- Possibly going into the future with Marty and having the trip of your life. He’s blown away by the fact that you can look so gorgeous during every time period.

- Sometimes, he just has to make you stand still so that he can get a good look at you: whether it be because he’s been away for a week in the future or because you’ve dressed to the tens for prom/a date or to blend into whatever time period you’re in. 

- Occasionally being confused by the things he says; since he’s referencing a future or time period you haven't seen yet.

- Him telling you about the future and the past. You probably played the role of therapist after he came back from his initial trip into the past. Like he’ll be laying on your bed, his hand on his face as he tells you about how his mom kissed him.

You sitting in your chair with a clip board: and how did that make you feel?

BAD Y/N! IT MADE HIM FEEL BAD!

- Trying to stop him from making dumb decisions and being influenced by other people; particularly people who call him chicken.

- He has a habit of saying the wrong things and not catching himself; he was born with a pretty much nonexistent filter, so he’ll occasionally say something to you that sounds better in his head and have to explain or you’ll have to step in and speak for him when he’s talking to someone else.

- Marty definitely gets jealous over you pretty often, and because he’s rather dramatic, even his most subtle reactions make how he’s feeling incredibly obvious. Even when he doesn’t want you to know that he’s jealous, you’ll still be able to tell.

- He’s incredibly protective. You saw how he was about to square up with Biff; and how he literally punched him. Anytime anyone even hints at there being something wrong with you, he’s immediately on the defensive and fully prepared to fight them in your honor.

- Marty is sort of a hot head so fights either happen somewhat often or are just rather explosive whenever they do happen. He isn’t the best at filtering himself and keeping his cool so he’ll occasionally say things he shouldn’t and get himself into hot water with you.

- But, as much as he sucks at speaking, he does make very good, very genuine apologies that you can’t help but accept.

- He tells you that he loves you pretty often; though it’s usually after quickly kissing your cheek and dashing out the door because he’s late for something.

- Well, he sort of already knows that he’s going to marry you; thanks to his little rendezvous in the future, but he knew he was going to even before then.

[unbridgeabledistances]

hi y’all<3 here’s a new section of the gallavich as seen from alternate POVs fic, this time featuring lip!!!! (i wanted to wait til after the ✨lickey drama✨ in the new ep before posting, but then i decided against it bc i didn’t want to re-write this lol)

i started to have way too many feelings while writing this so it’s a little lengthy and contemplative, but rest assured it features some domestic fluff/ian and mickey being disgustingly in love- i hope u enjoy<3

--

Lip shuffled into the kitchen of the Gallagher house, opening the fridge door and reaching past the clanging beer bottles to grab a metal soda can on the way back of the shelf, hearing a faint fizz escape as he popped the tab. It was late, the moonlight streaming in across the kitchen through the worn curtains and pooling on the kitchen floor— after Tami had crashed in their bed at the apartment after a long day at work and Freddie was sleeping soundly in his crib, Lip had come by the Gallagher house, without really knowing why. He just needed to clear his head, to get some distance from Tami and all her relentless nagging about moving and apartment hunting and his colossally obvious fuck-up with the bikes— he just needed some space, some less stifling air to breathe outside of their half-packed apartment crammed with boxes lining the walls.

It was funny; no matter how much energy Lip had poured into he and Tami’s first apartment, into painting the walls and agonizing over their kitchen backsplash like it was his first-born son, whenever Lip thought about home, whenever he felt that pit of uneasiness growing in his stomach and he just needed a place where he could lie back on a couch and loosen the knots in his shoulders and breathe in familiar air that would fill him up, instead of the too-clean smell of Tami’s flowery potpourri that she’d placed on the expensive coffee table in their living room— Lip always found his feet leading him across the slabs of sidewalk and past the chain link fences towards the Gallagher house, no matter the time of night. He had only been in the house for a few minutes before he felt the tight-knit something in his chest begin to unfurl— he didn’t even want to start to think about what was lodged there. This had been a crazy fucking couple of months, and he wasn’t going to start getting sappy about selling the house now, not when they were so close. He’d dug a hole too deep this time, and he needed the money. He couldn’t fuck up again— not with Freddie to take care of. No matter what it cost him.

So that’s how Lip ended up sitting at the Gallagher kitchen table at 2 a.m. on a Thursday night, sipping at an overly-sugary pop that was no substitute for what he really wanted to be drinking right now—he could imagine how it would warm the insides of his stomach, how it would cushion whatever weird fucking ache was in his chest right now. But— no. Fuck no. He wasn’t going to do that now. Everything about selling the house, about moving on, was about getting his shit straight— about leaving the bad parts of this sagging roof and these stained floorboards behind him.

Lip slouched in the wooden kitchen chair, scrolling on his phone and finally letting out a breath he didn’t really know he had been holding in all day, when he heard a creaking of footsteps padding at the top of the stairs— too heavy to be Liam or Debbie, too careful and unfumbling to be Frank dragging himself through the house. Lip flickered a glance up from where he was sitting and met Ian’s eyes as he turned the corner of the stairs, his skin looking translucent and overly pale in the moonlight like the ginger motherfucker he was.

Ian nodded his head towards Lip in acknowledgement, like he wasn’t surprised in the slightest that his older brother with a whole ass family and apartment of his own was decidedly squatting in the kitchen of his childhood home, drinking a pathetic-looking can of Dr. Pepper. Ian slid open the fridge door, grabbing a beer and swiftly popping the cap off by knocking the bottle on the side of the counter—and then in an instant it became one of those quiet, familiar nights when it was just Lip and Ian in the kitchen, sometimes letting easy conversations flow between them, but other times, just like this— just sinking into each other’s presence in the silence. Ian’s shadow mingling with the moonlight on the kitchen floor immediately snapped the atmosphere from lonely and self-pitying and stale to something lighter, something familiar—like the worn, buttery leather of a baseball glove that fits just right.

Instantly Lip was brought back to so many nights before this, of he and Ian orbiting each other in the kitchen at night— when they were kids and would creep down the stairs and eat fistfuls of junk food that Fiona had forbidden, or steal warm sips of the open beers Frank had left on the counter. This was where they’d processed Monica’s return, late at night while they passed a cigarette between them and Ian hadn’t tried to hide the tears that were freely rolling down his freckled cheeks, back when they were both just confused kids who clung to each other— this was where they’d processed Frank’s alcoholic meltdowns, too many to count, and all the love and loss and confusion that had passed between these walls, all the collateral damage of living in this fucking neighborhood. And Lip felt a sudden pang in his gut, sharp and present, when he realized that it might be one of the last nights that he and Ian got to spend in the kitchen like this.

Lip immediately shoved the thought down with all his might, a hydraulic press squeezing out any sentimentality. He had to do this— for Freddie, for Tami. He had to man up and move on, even if it meant physically wounding the crumbling walls to ease the pain of the parallel jagged wounds somewhere deep in his chest, or screaming and shouting until veins popped in his neck, so loud that he knew he was radiating his pain outwards like a fucking atomic bomb.

But tonight, Lip had no more fight left to give. He just wanted to let these four walls hold him one last time, without even realizing that was what he had needed until this moment. Ian slid a chair out from the kitchen table and sat beside him, leaning back and dragging out a slow, sleepy breath.

Lip cleared his throat, softly. “Where’s Mick?”

“Passed out upstairs.” Ian scrubbed a hand over his face. “I couldn’t sleep.”

Lip raised his eyebrow, almost involuntarily, and Ian immediately jutted his chin up in a half-nod, an affirmation, as he leaned back even farther and took the first sip of his beer. No, he wasn’t manic and yes, he was fine. After all the years that had passed since Ian was still figuring this shit out, Lip sometimes forgot that checking in on him wasn’t really his job, not anymore.

Lip took another sip from his soda can, a movement to fill the easy silence. “How was your guys’ night?”

Ian shrugged non-committally, his shoulders still slumped back in the chair, his lips puckered around the mouth of the bottle as he stared off into the distance at the peeling kitchen wallpaper. “Eh. It was fine. I dragged Mickey out to try and make more gay friends. Ended up being a mistake.”

Lip held back a laugh, taking a sip from his own drink to mask his smirk. He had ample auditory evidence that Mickey was plenty as gay as Ian, but it was still hard to imagine Mickey leaning into all of this shit— Ian used to wear golden underwear and frequent gay clubs and go to social justice brunches, but none of that really seemed like it was Mickey’s scene.

“Oh yeah? Mickey not the easiest person to befriend?” Lip said it with his eyebrows raised, like the joke was obvious.

Ian looked up at him, like he’d been snapped out of a sleepy train of thought, staring earnestly like Lip’s jab had flown right over his head. “Actually, it was kind of my fault. I was the one who made us leave this dinner party thing we got invited to. They were all talking shit about the Southside, about how they hated their families, and I couldn’t really… connect with them, I guess.”

Lip pondered that, taking a breath and stretching his arms above his head. God, he was sore— he hadn’t even been fucking working, aside from hauling those bikes from place to place to avoid the cops, but all the pent up stress and tension was starting to linger in his bones.

“Yeah, it was the same for me. In college, or whatever. Joaquin was the only person I really talked to, because he got all the shit I was always going through.”

Ian nodded contemplatively—but he was staring off into space again, almost like he was half asleep. Lip took another sip of his soda. He could bring up the house shit again right now—it was all that they’d been talking about for the past few weeks—but for some reason it felt too raw, too intense to bring up right now, like it would cut through this peaceful moment, this island in the vast sea of uncertainty Lip knew he was bringing down on all of their heads. So in this moment, he opted for smoother waters.

“Why’d you guys go looking for new friends, anyways?”

Ian finally broke out of whatever drowsy, pensive trance he’d been in, his lips sloping into a smile. “Mickey kept giving me shit for always doing what you do, after breakfast today. I figured… I don’t know, I just got all pissy and tried to prove him wrong.”

Lip felt the corner of his mouth tick upward at that. “Guess you’re stuck with me.”

Ian grinned, and held out his beer bottle, stretching his arm across the table. Lip tapped it with his soda can with a light “Cheers,” then took the final sip. He crushed the can to a disk on the table, pressing it down firmly with the heel of his palm and watching the sides compress. Ian’s eyes were cast downward at the table, watching his movements.

“How’s stuff with you and Tami going, all the packing and shit?”

Lip turned the flattened can on its side, contemplatively spinning it like a top on the table and fidgeting with it between his fingers.

“Honestly? I’m fucking exhausted.”

He could hear the breathiness as he said it, how deflated his own voice sounded. And Lip knew could make himself say more— he knew if anyone would get it, Ian would.

“It’s just… fuck, man.”

He looked up and Ian was staring directly at him now, his expression unguarded— listening. Listening like he always did in these moments. Lip let out a low chuckle, trying to shield his own vulnerability.

“How’d we get so fucking old? How is this… it, y’know? Finally leaving the fucking nest, or whatever.”

Ian smiled, placing his beer on the table. “I think you already left the nest when you had a baby and moved into an apartment with your girlfriend.”

Lip shrugged, fiddling with the crushed can again between his fingertips. “Yeah. Guess you’re right.”

“And you are the one making us do this, for the record.”

If Ian’s tone wasn’t as playful or as tentative as it was, Lip would have worried that he was upset— but judging by Ian’s still-comfortable slouch and his steady expression, Lip knew he was fine— he was weathering the storm, just like Lip was.

Ian leaned forward.

“Hey. Mickey was giving me shit—but it is true. You’re my best friend, even though you can be a fucking asshole sometimes.” Ian’s lips curved into a crooked smile. “Nothing’s gonna change that.”

Ian’s eyes flickered around the kitchen as he spoke, and Lip heard everything that was unsaid. Even though you’re kicking us out of the house. Even though you’re changing everything. Even though there isn’t a focal point to our lives anymore.

You’re my best friend.

And Lip felt that pang in his gut again, sharp like a dagger.

**

He’d said it before, and he’d had no problem saying it over and over again in Mickey’s absence, up until the months before the wedding— Ian did always go a little bit “loco” when Mickey was around.

Which, fuck him, I guess, for caring about his little brother with an undiagnosed mental illness who was off living in the Milkovich House of Horrors slash meth lab with Mickey fucking Milkovich, the bully with greasy hair who Lip wrote papers for in high school and who now was a literal, actual, godforsaken pimp. Lip had seen a teenage Ian bruised and drunk and curled into himself crying over Mickey too many times to ever think that this shit was a good idea— and years later, when Ian almost threw away everything, almost threw away stability and sanity and his fucking family to follow Mickey Milkovich across the Mexican border, Lip knew he had to say something, even though it was an unspoken rule that he and Ian didn’t really critique each other’s love lives since the Mandy-and-Karen fiascos of years past.

So he’d said it, that day in the kitchen, after Ian had returned on a Greyhound bus and they were still processing the dull pain of Monica’s loss— and Ian had taken the feedback with a closed-lip smile, like his head was somewhere else, as he picked at the corner of the beer bottle label with his thumb.

And then less than a year later Mickey was released anyways, and ended up standing in a tank top and boxers in the middle of the Gallagher living room, when the house was crawling with strangers and Freddie was barely two weeks old— and Lip had taken in a sharp breath, a bundle of hesitant nerves sprouting for whatever the fuck this situation was going to become; but not one that he could really give attention to, with all the other bullshit that was pulling at his focus, like the desperate screeching of his newborn kid and the mascara running down Tami’s face.

Later that night, when he’d had a spare moment to breathe and Tami was finally calmed down and sleeping in their cramped bedroom, he’d run into Ian in the moonlit hallway as he was stumbling his way out of the bathroom, drowsily rubbing his eyes with his hair sticking up. And Lip had stopped him with a whisper, placing a hand to tap Ian’s shoulder as Ian blinked the sleep from his eyes.

“Hey. So uh… I see Mickey’s out.”

He’d seen the defenses immediately raise in Ian’s eyes, like he knew what Lip was going to say next.

“Yeah.” Ian had said it soft, quietly, like he was afraid of someone waking.

You sure that’s a good idea? Lip could feel the words itching on the tip of his tongue, and he was aching to say them again, all these years later— and yes, maybe his head was so wrapped up in his own shit that he didn’t really have the authority to be doling out relationship advice to his little brother right now, but so much of this reminded him of things that had happened in the past, of Mickey Milkovich crashing on Ian’s bedroom floor until he inevitably couldn’t anymore, until the pressure cooker of his presence mingled with Ian’s inevitably exploded— or at least that was how Lip saw it. There were too many wounds, and they were bound to leave scars— Lip was honestly surprised as fuck that the Gallagher house was Mickey’s first stop out of prison, after everything that had gone down between the two of them.

But, for Ian’s sake, Lip tried to reign it in—despite the fact that they’d just been commiserating about “being in love with crazy people” as they crouched on the living room stairs the night before as Ian sipped on a beer, sputtering out a “fuck no” when Lip asked if he was going to marry Mickey (which was an equally as batshit question as if Lip was going to marry Tami). Despite all of this— now that Mickey was back, Lip could see that this was something Ian wanted, that this was something Ian was treading carefully into, one more time. He was definitely stronger now; even Lip could see that.

“He gonna be hanging around here a while?”

Ian had given a gentle, sleepy smile. “Yeah. Think so.”

And Lip had just reached out, and clapped Ian’s sleep-warmed body on the shoulder. “Sounds good, man.”

Ian had walked the remaining length of the hallway, opening the bedroom door— and in the shadows, Lip could see that Mickey was curled on the old, concave mattress of Ian’s single bed that he’d slept on since they were kids— and Ian had lifted the thin blanket and pressed up next to him, the mattress sinking beneath their collective weight, settling in and pressing a kiss to the top of a snoring Mickey’s head without a second thought. Huh.

That was the beginning of Lip starting to realize that maybe, just maybe, this time with Mickey would be different— and it was. As Mickey started to become a daily fixture in the Gallagher house, constantly pinned to Ian’s side, Lip had noticed how something solid had shifted—they weren’t reckless kids anymore, for starters. He hadn’t really seen Mick and Ian physically together since Ian was catapulting off the deep end, in the weeks after Ian had gotten dragged away by the P.I.s and Mickey had gotten locked up for some crazy fucking stunt trying to murder Sammy. Things were too intense then, too technicolor—for some reason, Lip thought Mickey being back meant that they’d return to being that way.

But now here was this guy, placing a gentle hand on Ian’s chest and saying “Woah, wait a minute” to protect Ian from the batshit P.O. that had just barged through the door—and Lip couldn’t help but realize that was something that he would have done to protect Ian, in a universe where Mickey was still behind bars.

After then, Lip just kept seeing it— the ways that Mickey showed up for Ian. Not even in the ways that he used to, like forcing Ian to take his meds back when everything was uncertain and Ian was slipping through their fingers like sand in a sieve; but in a more solid, adult way, in a way that made Ian buzz whenever he was around him, in a way that made Ian happier and lighter. And maybe it was just the sex—part of it had to be the fucking sex, considering how loud they always were— but Lip realized, after a couple of weeks of Mickey’s presence in the house before their whole eventual engagement fiasco, that Mickey was Ian’s friend, in addition to all the other things he was. After all the years of uncertainty, they’d finally grown the fuck up— Mickey was someone who brought out the best in Ian, and it was like Ian had been waiting for this moment, for Mickey by his side, before he could fully and totally bloom.

And it was weird how emotional that made Lip— after seeing Ian as a hollow shell in a jumpsuit pushing garbage cans around a college campus, or pretending to be someone he wasn’t who wore patterned button-up shirts and threw around fucking useless five-dollar words that Lip didn’t understand like “gender identity” and “intersectionality”— Ian had finally made it, beyond being the bruised, scrawny kid getting sexually abused by a creepy 30 year old man in the back room of a mini-mart, or getting high off his ass every night and starving himself to fit into a golden thong, or wearing a baggy janitor suit with dark circles under his eyes and pallid skin. Ian had done that shit on his own, and made himself into something in Mickey’s absence, sure— but so much of him being the full, happy person he was in this moment was because of Mickey, and Lip could see that now.

Ian was himself— he wasn’t a shadow anymore.

And that was why Lip had said he thought he should marry Mickey, in the end— because there was no doubt in his mind that Mickey Milkovich wasn’t going anywhere, not anytime soon.

Lip could still see it now, in the way that Ian was lounging comfortably in the living room, like he had his whole life— but now Mickey was resting just as comfortably beside him. It was a few weeks after that night in the kitchen, and Lip had just pitched the FOR SALE sign in the Gallagher front yard— now everyone was huddled in the living room, for what they now knew was one of their last lingering nights in this space. Liam was sitting next to Lip, pressed into his side, seeking the comfort that Lip knew he needed through all of these massive fucking changes— Franny was playing on the floor and Debbie was sitting beside her, and across the room Ian and Mickey were pressed side-by-side on the fraying loveseat, scrolling through the lease document for their new apartment on the battered laptop. They were murmuring things to each other that Lip couldn’t really make out— but Mickey was pressed against Ian, slouching into him slightly, and Ian’s eyes were light. In his flicker of a glance towards them, Lip noticed that Mickey was playing with Ian’s hand, swiping a finger over his wedding ring, as Ian scrolled through the paperwork and started to read all the contract information out loud— and Lip smiled to himself as he tried to tune out all the sappy bullshit that was going on in that corner of the room.

Ian was going to be just fine.

**

Hour later Lip strode out the door to the front porch, a cigarette he’d bummed off of Ian wrapped in his fist— he didn’t smoke anymore, especially not under the same roof as Tami, but there was something about the gravity of this night, of the flimsy red and white sign rooted in the front yard, that made Lip’s fingertips itch for a cigarette and made his brain buzz with the want of nicotine to dull the sharp edges of everything he was feeling—for smoke to float in front of his face while he sat on the front steps just one more time.  

He perched on the front steps as the sun was just starting to set, the fish-scale shadows of the chain link fence encroaching further and further into the yard as he flicked at his lighter.

He heard a light cough from somewhere in front of him— and saw that Mickey was outside too, blowing smoke out of his mouth and leaning against the fence in the front yard facing the house. Lip nodded at him in acknowledgement, then took the first drag. Fuck, he’d needed this.

“You gonna miss this place?”

 Mickey said it into the open air, like he isn’t really talking to Lip— his eyes were off in the distance, staring at the paint-chipped front façade of the house. Which was fucking bullshit—why would Mickey be staring absentmindedly, almost fucking wistfully, at the Gallagher house?

It’s not like he and Mickey didn’t talk— they definitely did, pragmatically flinging banter across the kitchen to each other at breakfast when coordinating rides for Liam or grocery list items when Debbie was off at work, existing in the same space every morning— and Mickey helped him haul literal tons of iron when he’d helped him steal the bikes, had haggled over his cut. But never like this—never with any weight, never in a way that was this casual, or this familial, about fucking feelings.

Part of that was probably because it was hard as fuck to worm your way into the Gallagher family—as wide open as their door always seemed to be, with people filtering in and out and crashing on hallway floors or the lumpy couch, this house only continued to function because of its nucleus— because of Lip and Ian and Carl and Debbie and Fiona and Liam and yes, even Frank. Everyone else was a passerby, an impermanent blip crossing through the way station; Jimmy-Steve, Sean, Carl’s slew of girls, Mandy and Karen.

Monica.

None of them were Gallaghers— none of them considered this place to be home, or got all the privileges that came with that. The Gallaghers, the real Gallaghers, had seen every one of these people come and go— and something slippery suddenly crept into Lip’s realization that despite all the odds, despite all of his doubts about him—Mickey had chosen to stay close to these four walls just as much as Lip had.

“Mickey’s family.” Ian had said it over a mouthful of bacon at breakfast a few weeks ago, and Lip had immediately shot him down; but maybe there was some truth to what Ian had said, some truth to the oddly unfailing consistency to Mickey’s ten years. Which meant that maybe…

Maybe it was time to make a fucking peace offering, or whatever.

Lip hummed in acknowledgement to Mickey’s question, pulling himself out of his train of thought.

“Hey. Mick.”

Mickey looked up at where Lip was leaning on the porch, his brows furrowing like he was bracing himself for a confrontation. “Yeah?”

“My head’s been too far up my ass the past couple of months to say it, but, uh. I’m glad you’re family, y’know?”

He’d been passively thinking it for months— but he’d never said it to Mickey, never this directly. He hoped Mickey got it, without brushing it off or shooting him down with some snarky fucking comment like he always did. Lip meant it— he was glad, he was grateful, he was ready to let Mickey Milkovich keep being a part of his fucked up familial life. And he hoped that Mickey saw that.

Mickey just rolled his eyes, taking another drag of his cigarette—but he didn’t say anything in reply, not for a moment. And then:

“You’re as sappy as your fucking brother, Phillip.”

[jchnmcdonough]

Ok I’m finally posting this @wingsy-keeper-of-songs.

(Some of) My Hancock hc’s. I’ve broken them down further into categories beyond the read more :-) taggin this bc i feel the hancock tag is in need a cleanse. 

APPEARENCE 

- Knows how to sew and takes great care of his clothing, particularly his frock coat. No ripped / falling apart seams in goodneighbor no ma’am. and yes, he does have more than one outfit

- Big on good hygiene! There’s a reason goodneighbor has decent plumbing lol

- 5′9. no, im not arguing on this.

PHYSICAL / MENTAL 

- doesn’t ever really sleep. Dozing, sure, but a deep sleep for him hasn’t happened since he turned into a ghoul. Cat naps are frequent but never more than 30 minutes. This threw lizzy for a loop the first time they ever slept together lol. Going off this, when he does doze, he uses his hat to cover his eyes. Makes people think he’s asleep despite being aware of his surroundings and gives his eyes a break from the lights

- Sensitive to bright lights, especially fluorescent which is why candles / oil lamps are used throughout the entire of the state house. He likes the look of neon lights which is why they’re heavily used throughout the exterior of GN

- avoids heavy drinking unless he’s alone or fahr is present because he tends to spiral 

RELEATIONSHIPS: daisy

- Daisy became a close confidant of his before Fahrenheit came into the picture. Actually kept him outta trouble during his drifting days

RELATIONSHIPS: fahrenheit

- He taught Fahr how to play chess

- Met Fahr a bit after he became mayor. The watch caught her trying to steal food from one of the warehouses, so he decided to take her under his wing. I’m honestly considering writing a short run off about their relationship tbh bc it wouldn’t really make sense to put into my main story

- Fahr is the only person to see him cry (except lizzy but I’m not counting her rn). Fahr has seen a lot of actual John rather than the Hancock persona which is why she’s so…almost territorial over him. She also would continue to be his bodyguard/advisor even if he didn’t pay her (tho he doesn’t believe this much to her dismay)

RELATIONSHIPS: ETC

- Established a safe trade route between goodneighbor and the slog that he allows the railroad to use while escorting runaway synths. Ghouls will also use this route to avoid any unwanted attention

- If he’s not doing meetings or business in the state house then he’s outside visiting residents or bothering Daisy lol. This is how lizzy discovered how adored he is by everyone. People stopping what they’re doing just to greet him, children asking him for caps to buy sweets (referred to as mr. Hancock).

- Has connections with Mother Isolde. you wonder how he got ahold of that experimental drug? like the covenant im in the process of revamping the crater of atom. i actually adore the children of atom and think they’re a super cool (i like the complexity of cults leave me be pls). plus, they’re the only COA in the commonwealth that don’t attack on sight so

- Has a trade going on with Jack Cabot

MAYORAL...ESQUE

- Will absolutely use physical force during interrogations but usually has Fahr deal with those issues. If Hancock gets involved that’s how you know shit is about to go down.

- Usually leaves the killing to Fahr as she likes doing it and he doesn’t like the mess, BUT will do it to make a point/send a message. Preferred method is a quick stabbing, but has used a shotgun at close range for a select few menaces

- does bi-weekly community meetings with residents to make sure any concerns are taken care of swiftly

FOOD / DRINK / DRUG 

- Knows how to cook but doesn’t do it a lot

- Loves sugar bombs because they remind him of his childhood.

- Absinthe, brandy, whiskey. That’s it.

- Berry mentats are his absolute favorite

- smoking became an unintentional; addiction. he actually had plans to quit prior to becoming a ghoul, but gave up post ghoulification because it adds to his ~look~ and due to his extended lifespan

RECREATION / HOBBIES 

- Record player is always on. He lives for having background music. Hypes up his main character complex

- Billie holiday and frank sinatra are his favorites, but has a soft spot for the beach boys. 

- plays chess and poker most often, but also enjoys pre war board games like blast radius or catch the commie 

- Tends to pace / wander around goodneighbor at night when he can’t relax.

- reads whatever he can get his hands on, but especially loves material regarding prewar commonwealth. 

[bluebellhairpin]

( Notice: OKAY - The pic there says ‘The Hobbit/LOTR’ but for times sake, and my own sanity, there is none listed thus-far (same goes for the ‘other’ category’). Merci for understanding! )

So I’ve been meaning to do this for a while, and I already have a blog for it ( @nemosrepost ) but that doesn’t get too much attention. Thus, here we are! 

(This was a nightmare to get done - it took weeks to get all the links and pics done up in my spare time - I hope you appreciate that.) 

They’re all sorts here, from Medieval Marvel AU’S, to Modern Attack on Titan one shots. They’re all organised via fandom, and I’ve tried my best to link and tag everything properly, but that is a difficult feat, so beware - for some it may not have worked too well.

Like my *actual* masterlist, this will be updated regularly with new fic recs, and even new characters and fandoms as I read them. All fic’s currently listed (as of November 26, 2020) are found on my reblog account. 

I’ve also tried to add in a ‘recommendation summary’ thing of each - so basically just my thoughts on the fic(s). But anyway, have fun browsing, and overall - enjoy! 

(AND also - LMAOOOO - Have fun scrolling lololololol!) - Nemo

( Pre - Warning: I am not tagging anything as NSWF, 18+, or triggering content. However some fics listed do contain such material. Please refer to the warnings or Authors Notes on each Fic before reading. Stay safe guys! I love you! ) 

Bluebellhairpin’s Masterlist 

Bucky Barnes

Knight in Rusty Armour - Medieval / A/B/O AU! Series - by @revengingbarnes Honestly I binged the first eight chapters (+ prologue) in close to one sitting. That was mostly because that was all that was published at the time. It is completed now. I love both these AU’s, and I love Bucky - win, win! 

Flowers Bloom - Soulmate AU! Series - by revengingbarnes  Another great series, and honestly I’m a slut for soulmate au’s, so this author might be coming after my heart - keep up that good work, if you know what I mean. 

The Great Build Up - Modern / Firefighter Au! One Shot - by @thottybarnes  This ones goes from cute, to hot and steamy, to angsty, and back to cute again. A one shot rollercoaster, and I thoroughly enjoyed every word of it. 

Maybe This Time - Mob Au! One Shot - by @propertyofpoeandbucky Okay, so if there’s one thing I like more than an mobster au, it’s adding children into the mix. Something about big bad guys going all soft for this tiny human - and then making them - and that’s called perfection. 

Whatever It Takes - Biker AU! One Shot - by @sgtjbuccky He like’s to be loud, so what. He rides a bike, so what. I what to ride him and his bike, so what. 

(Un-Named) - One Shot - by @softlybarnes  I’ve never liked Bucky’s metal arm more in my entire life. Using it for a baby going through teething? A+ idea. 

Hero, Waiting - Medieval AU! One Shot -  by captain-ariel-barnes Sadly, this fic is unavailable now, and that - obviously - makes me sad. But I’m adding it her anyway because of how much I adored it. The love triangle between Bucky, Reader, and Steve was amazing, and the feelings? Phenomenal. 

Steve Rogers

If Walls Could Talk - One Shot - by propertyofpoeandbucky  I’ll recreate my original comment on this fic - ‘Ouch’. And that’s all I have to say about that. 

The End of the War - College AU! One Shot - by @redgillan There’s nothing quite like a enemies to lovers trope that’s well-written. But then throw in fight club, a jerk date, ice-cream and pizza - just read it. You’ll understand then. 

The Edge of the Water - Mermaid AU! Series - @floatingpetals I have to admit now, I haven’t read all of this yet. But I also have to say, what I have read was fantastic. Mermaids - and Mermen - they just hit different, you know? 

Pseudo Princess - Medieval AU! Series - by @shreddedparchment​ To date, it’s one of the best fics - nay - stories I’ve ever read. I’d dare to say it’s easily the length of a novel, so if you’re up for the long haul, I’d definitely recommend it. It’s worth the wait - trust me. Op obviously put a hella lot of work into it, and it shows. 

Loki Laufeyson

Loki’s Happy Ending - Series (?) - by @gingerwritess  Listen, I have been and forever will be a Loki girl. Nothing will change that. And every scrap of content Theo produces for Loki I will cradle in my palms and keep warm until they’re ready to go out into the world or whatever - point is, read this. 

Just One Quick Glance - One Shot - by @imagines-trashcan  After watching ‘Endgame’, and squealing at every moment Loki appeared on screen, only to not have him show up in the final battle - this was one of my comfort fics. 

thunderstorms. - One Shot - by @tarynkauai Naturally, Loki’s child would inherit his unease of thunderstorms. And naturally, seeing Loki as a dad makes me happy. 

Stitches - One Shot - by @lokibug​  Loki being nice. I like that. We stan. 

Quentin Beck 

The Curveball - One Shot - by @healingchurch​  Listen, this is on here for a reason. I didn’t really like Mysterio ‘cause of what he did to Peter, but hey, some people are good actors, and some write characters acting very well. 

Stephen Strange 

(Un-Named) - Imagine / One Shot - by @archieimagines​ A cocky bastard and a shy Reader, as far as I’m concerned that a one-way ticket straight to my heart. *wink wonk*.

(Un-Named) - One Shot - by @whirlybirbs​  Honestly, there are multiple fics of hers on this list, and that’s because she’s a damn fine writer, and her stories are just that addictive. This one is no different. I was preparing to read more and then it ended. But all good things, right?

Crash and Burn - One Shot - by @lilyswritings​  The angst, and the angst. I cry, you cry, everyone cries. Unfortunately there is only the one part, but much to my personal joy that means I can interpret the after-ending however I want! 

Frank Castle

(Un-Named) - One Shot - by @alexsunmners​ This is just cute okay? I have no other words except this was plain and simply very, very, very nice to read, and that it makes me feel very soft right here on the inside. 

Peter Parker

Super Smooth Genius - One Shot (?) - by whirlybirbs  Back at it again with the cute, awkward, friendly, neighbourhood, Peter Parker. 

Just Don’t - Soulmate AU! One Shot - by @papel-creativo​ What’d I tell you about soulmate au’s? I can’t resist them. And of course Pete being a caring bf with his hero s/o. So nice. 

Ronan the Accuser 

Make You Proud - One Shot - by @kayleighhalliday2203​ This is justifiable because I was going through a Lee Pace faze and I found it and loved it immediately. 

Ultron

(Un-Named) - One Shot / Series - by @snarky-badger​ This I can also justify having read, because (and if you know me then you know) the robot thing ... Doesn’t bother me as much as it should. And I binged all of it on ao3, so. 

Poe Dameron

(Un-Named) - Masterlist - by propertyofpoeandbucky Okay, I know there’s a lot on this list, and it could take you a while to get through it all, but trust me - it’s worth it. Lani likes Poe, and it shows. He’s written so well. 

Dashing - One Shot / Series ? - by whirlybirbs Birbs does it again. She’s got Punchy!Reader, and if there were a legal way to get all of this Poe thing down into a written book, I’d do it. 

You Can See Me? - Modern / Ghost AU! One Shot - by @tintinwrites​ I just this this one’s really cool. And what Poe does for the reader at the end? So sweet! He would totally do that! 

Across the Hall - Modern / Nurse AU! Series - by @starryeyedstories​  It’s cute, it’s fun, it’s got tension, and a little drama - plus a smidge of angst and Corgi!BB-8. If perfection were ever made into a Modern/Nurse au Poe fic - this would be it. 

Deepest, Lightest Secrets - One Shot - by @writefightandflightclub​  It’s got the humour and overall feel  you’d expect to come from something Star Wars related - honestly I had so much fun reading it, and I’ll happily do it again. 

Levi Ackerman

Names for Him & You - One Shot - by @commanderserwin​ Again, op is one of my main sources for fic’s in this area - so there could be quite a few of them listed here. But this one? Cute as heck. 

Levi’s Secret - Modern AU! One Shot - by @theamberwriter​ This one was damn funny in my opinion. Nothing can ever be hidden from Hange for long. 

You Look So Beautiful In White - Modern AU! One Shot - by @alrightberries​ This fic, it carved out my heart, diced it, shoved it in a blender, then made it into an atomic bomb. I - I was not okay. That amount of angst shouldn’t be allowed. Read it. 

Abeille - Modern / Mafia AU! Series - by @ackermans-freedom-inc​ Honestly, this isn’t finished yet but, honestly, I’m not ready for it to finish. The heartache. The betrayal. The child. I can’t even. 

Lights - Modern AU! One Shot - by commanderserwin This was the first fic I ever read of op’s, and I couldn’t believe what I read so I went back and read it again. I can’t tell you how much I love it, or how I feel about it, so just go read for yourself and you’ll know. 

To Build a Home - Modern AU! Series - by @vennilavee​ If you’re a fan of Levi, you must go read this. It’s so detailed, and just so perfect - whenever a new part comes out I have a quick reboot before going to read it. 

Erwin Smith

One of Us - Modern AU! Miniseries - by commanderserwin I’m not going to lie, this one is here because I requested it, but also because I really liked it, and cried while reading it. So there. 

Reiner Braun

Service to the Crown - Medieval AU! Miniseries - by @present-mel​ It should probably be illegal to write Reiner or Medieval au’s this well, and yet here op is writing both. Like, McScuse me, where do you acquire such talent and can I have some? 

Toshinori Yagi

Flirting with All Might - One Shot - by @lemonlordleah-shinzawa-kitten​ Toshi. The great. The hero. The awkward. He’s a blond boy doing what blond boys do even if he’s a little older he’s still part of the crew.

Stitches - Villain AU / Mini Series - by @itsallmightbitch​  Okay, so I said above that I wouldn’t put warnings on these - but this time I have to. Nothing I’ve read in my whole life emmits such an amount of pure horniness - and I love it. 

Godless - Fantasy AU / One Shot - by @pleasantanathema​  Another ‘All Smite’ fic, yes, I know. But god. They’re so good. This one is another real horny one, so if you can’t tell there is a slight theme running here. And - sksksksks - this is actually from the same ‘general area’ as the Reiner fic listed above (Service to the Crown). There was a event. I read everything. 

Keigo Takami

Preening - One Shot - by @shoutaaizawas​ Literally the softest and cutest damned thing I’ve read for Keigo. No, I’m not just ‘saying’ that, it’s genuine. The feelings I get - or lack thereof due to them turning to mush - it too much for words. Honest. 

Seasonal Special - One Shot - by @keiqos​ I’ll say this now and I’ll say it first - any Hawks fics written by op are *chefs kiss*. They’re amazing. Secondly, rut!Hawks is my weakness - this fic is one of such weaknesses. 

Shouto Aizawa

(Un-Named) - Series - by @theamberwriter​ This is *technically* the second part in the series, but it’s the only part I’ve read and goddamnit, I’m in love. Hubby Aizawa. The disappearing Baby-Zawa. 

I Miss You Texts - SMAU - Kuroo Tetsurou, Bokuto Koutarou, Nishinoya Yuu - by @briswriting​ I miss them too. They ain’t dead. I just feel like I haven’t seen them in so long.  

Little Things - Headcanons - Karasuno - by @haikyuudreaming​ Every single one makes me feel so nostalgic, and I feel so much longing. I love. I loose. I pine. I want. And yet I cannot have. I only dream.  

Cheerleader - Headcanons - Karasuno - by @imagine-101​  I want to be their cheerleader. Now I am able to be. Op, many thanks for the feeding. 

Tsukishima Kei

Cherry Wine - Single Parent AU! Series - by @bakugou-jpg​  I’m gonna head out and say that Tsukki was my first favourite Haikyuu character - then I ‘character developed’ but that only went so far as to give me more favorites. But deadass - read this and you won't regret it. 

Ukai Keishin

(Un-Named) - Ballroom/Latin Dancer AU! Headcanons - by @imagine-that-haikyuu​  I know nothing about dancing. Or ballroom dancing. But I do know I’d love to dance with Ukai. So how’s that for ‘middle ground’? 

[fadedseas]

what died didn’t stay dead.

Miguel Galindo x fem!reader

Part 1 of __

Tags: Soulmate AU, Legal Drama, Canon Divergence

Summary: You walk into the courtroom, expecting to arraign Emily Galindo for the murder of a county clerk. You don’t expect to meet your soulmate in that courtroom. The husband of the woman you’re trying to indict. Miguel Galindo.  

TW: cursing; mention of rape and violence

Word count: 543

(note: not my gif)

You didn’t believe in soulmates.

After everything you’ve seen in your years as an ADA, there was no possible way you could believe that a random name that would just appear on your forearm, branding you, at the first sight of your supposed soulmate, that would erase the images of all of your cases in your mind.

Perps beating their soulmates. Raping them. Forcing them into prostitution. 

Maybe...even after all of your years as an ADA, you would never admit that the cruelty you’ve seen has yet to sink into your bones. You still feel breathless at the description of a victim’s testimony, of the photos of bruised skin and open wounds, and the vacant gaze of a victim that had lost all of their innocence. You weren’t sure if this was a good thing or not. 

And yet...even after all of your years as an ADA, you would never admit that there was still some part of you, buried deep underneath the memories of the past, of the startling fear that sometimes seemed to choke you when you looked into the eyes of a perp, there was still a childhood version of you that wondered about your soulmate. What they would look like. How tall they were. How kind their eyes would be. 

You had seen real ones. Your parents were real ones. You remembered tracing the curves of your father’s name as it curled lazily up your mother’s forearm. You remember a childhood of soft touches. Even softer gazes full of unspoken words, an entire lifetime of promises with their endless tomorrows together. 

Watching real soulmates was like standing near an atomic bomb. The heat and force of one was so intense that it bleached everything in the blast zone, leaving only shadows of living people and objects behind. That’s how you felt in your childhood home after your parents’ funerals to pack their things. Shadowed. How could you possibly exist in that space that was so full of love? How could you be so arrogant as to assume it could exist for yourself? 

You would never admit to the late nights when you felt especially alone, and you would close your eyes and just try to imagine how it would feel to have a soulmate, a real one. To have someone to make you feel that kind of heat, and warmth and light. 

And in the morning, those fantasies would dissipate with the steam from your first cup of coffee. After all, you didn’t believe in soulmates. 

So when you walked into the courtroom for arraignment, ready to face Emily Galindo and her presumably extremely well-paid defense attorney, you didn’t expect your eyes to lock with a pair of deep dark eyes. He sat languidly on the court bench, with one hand fiddling with his shades. The slight tilt of his head exuded the easy confidence of a man that was used to commanding the respect and deference of everyone in the room. That irked you. But you expected that. Powerful people expecting to be above reproach always did. 

But you didn’t expect the warmth that swept through your body or the burning on your forearm as it spelled out the letters that you suddenly dreaded. 

Miguel Galindo. 

F**k.

part II

part III

A/N: Wow I’m honestly just thirsty for Danny Pino to be honest. This was just a short brainstorming exercise for me that I’m considering expanding into a full fic. It started out as a soulmate au and then grew into an OC character study.

R&R to let me know if you like it or if I should keep writing it. 

But if I do keep writing it - trust me - it will be much more romantic/smutty!

Links

masterlist

ao3

[velianmagicalgirl]

A Letter to my Favorite Person

So I wrote this thing for Bono... I started working on it last night but I severely underestimated both how much I wanted to write and how long it would take me to write it so I had to finish it up today. So I guess in that I discovered that me and B have something in common. We're both writers and we both turn everything we write into novels because we are incapable of writing anything short. So here it is, I'm putting it under a cut because like I said, it's quite long (3500 words). It's also full of sappiness the likes of which you've never seen before. So just be prepared for that. You've been warned. But otherwise, enjoy :) (and Bono if you read this I'd not know whether to be super happy and amazed or to throw myself out the nearest window...)

Okay, so how do I even start something like this… Believe it or not, I’m not always the best at expressing my emotions or how I feel to other people. It’s not that I don’t know how I feel, I’m pretty good at that, but when it comes to talking about it, that’s where the words just kind of leave me. I guess I just kind of worry that if I truly express what I say, people won’t understand what I mean or something like that. And because of the fact that I tend to experience emotions very strongly, I worry that I might come off as too much to people.

But screw it, a lesson I’m in the middle of learning is that for people you care about, it’s important to communicate with them and tell them how you feel because, well, nobody’s a mind reader.

And well, I just have a lot to say and I want to say it. So here goes (prepare for ultimate sappiness the likes of which you have never seen before. You’ve been warned)

So, to my dearest Bono, the man who has changed my life, I just want to say… thank you? Wow, like you’ve never heard that before, right? But who says hearing “thank you” a lot is a bad thing? Obviously if a lot of people thank you for something, then you’ve done something right, and something right you’ve done indeed.

Obviously I’m sure that on some level you know just how much your music and you yourself have helped people, touched them, made their lives better, etc. I mean, you could see it every night when you got up on that stage in front of all those thousands of people. But those stadiums can only hold a few thousand people at a time and there are so many more people around the world that have been touched by you; your words, your songs, your activism and the fact that you actually go out there and attempt to make a positive impact on the world.

It reminds me of how in Paris in 2015 the entire audience sang the whole first verse of One without you having to do anything. The look on your face said it all about how happy you were, and how amazed you were. Or how, in Berlin in 2018 when you lost your voice during Beautiful Day, I’m sure you were terrified, but you didn’t need to be because the audience picked up the words and sang for you. You told them “thank you” afterwards, like you’re always so surprised at what people would do for you, or how much you inspire others, but you don’t need to be, because just that kind of guy.

I was originally going to write a poem or something, before I decided on writing this because I felt it was easier for me to get out everything I wanted to say like this, but one of the lines I thought of for the poem went a little something like this:

There is a man that has everything But he gives it away like nothing There is a man that has everything But he gives it away for nothing There is a man that has everything But he gives it to those who have nothing

I was just thinking about this the other night and it just kind of came to me that “wow, here is a man who has quite literally everything but is also incredibly humble and kind to everyone to the point where nobody that’s met him has ever had a bad thing to say about him,” and I just kind of thought to myself “wow.” I don’t really know where I’m going with this, but I just wanted to point that out. I guess my point is that, you look out in the world and sometimes it’s so easy to get overwhelmed by all the darkness and the terrible things that people sometimes do, that it’s also easy to forget that there are still good people out there that are doing their best to make the world a better place for no other reason than because they want to, and because they think it’s the right thing to do. People like that are pure souls; they are rare but that doesn’t mean they don’t exist. And you sir, are one of those people. You may not want to be called that but it’s the truth. It kind of reminds me of the Lord of the Rings quote, “there’s still some good in this world, Mr. Frodo, and it’s worth fighting for,” and of course, the lyrics to Song for Someone/13 , “if there is a dark, then we shouldn’t doubt that there is a light, don’t let it go out.” Honestly, I think this may be one of the most important lyrics in any of your songs because it is just such a universally important message. Whenever you’re going through a hard time, it’s important to remember that there is a light, that you are not alone, that the darkness can be fought.

But anyway, going back to what I first said, you may have some idea of the amount of people’s lives you changed but do you really know just how many that is? And over the course of so many years? That must be an impossibly huge number.

But anyway, after this stupidly long preamble (preramble) I guess I should finally get to the whole entire point of this letter or whatever you’d call it. But hey, I guess that’s one thing we both have in common right? Everything we write turns out to be insanely long and rambly. And tagenty. What was I saying? Oh, right.

I just wanted to say that you mean a lot to me. I am one of those uncountable people that you’ve helped in some way. In a myriad of ways actually. In so many ways.

Over the past year, my mood has gone up and down like a rollercoaster for obvious reasons. Sometimes it was so hard to be positive about anything when you looked out into the world. Sometimes I would just give into despair. What were any of us doing? What was the point of anything anymore? But other days I would feel great. I would feel like I was a better person than I was before. And I would be so happy and grateful for all the friends I’ve made that I didn’t have before. And then I would go back down again. It was a real rollercoaster, and still is.

Basically, what I’m saying is, a friend once told me not too long ago that “U2 has a habit of coming into your life right when you most need them,” and looking back on that, I can say she was right. It all happened on December 25th, 2019, you know, Christmas. I was thinking of buying myself a record player but it turns out my parents were nice enough to buy one for me. Of course they got me some records to go along with it. There were a lot of them actually, but I don’t really remember them. I just remember the one that stood out to me more than the others: The Joshua Tree by U2. I actually got really excited when I saw it because I had actually heard it before, a long time ago but I never actually got around to listening to the whole thing, so I was happy that now I had the chance. I don’t think my mom realized what she had started when she did that, and neither did I at the time. I’m not going to recount the whole entire story here because that’ll take too long (that’s another story) but basically that was the moment that U2 and you too (wink wink) entered my life. And what happened a few months later? The entire world changed.

But you know what? It was okay because I had you there. Suddenly it was like I had a new friend there with me, and anytime I wanted a reprieve from the world outside, all I had to do was ask. You could make me smile, you could make me laugh, you could make me cry, but in a good way. I immersed myself in all the stories of things you had done for people, putting your kindness on display. How you could make someone’s entire day just by smiling at them. I would read those stories and I would get this feeling like my heart would burst and I would get this huge dopey smile on my face and then I would go scream into a pillow to get out some of the emotion. And then I would feel silly because here I was, a 21 year old girl, sitting alone in my room, and the guy I was basically tripping over was 59, about to turn 60! And now he’s 60, about to turn 61! And I am still only 22. But you know what, that doesn’t matter, because sometimes people are just that good, and you’re one of those people.

I remember reading one story in particular about some kids who were sitting outside your studio. You saw them, got out of the car and went up to them and signed the albums they had. You could’ve stopped at just that, you’d already made their days, you’d already given them enough happiness to power an entire country for a year, and certainly nobody would expect you to do more. But you did. You allowed them to come into your car and you drove them around for a bit while showing them a preview of How to Dismantle an Atomic Bomb. And I just thought to myself, “who does that? Surely this can’t be real? Surely this person can’t be real,” but you are real. And you really did do that. And for no other reason than out of the kindness of your own heart. You didn’t have to do that. You didn’t have to do any of that. But you did. Because you’re just that kind of guy. Later on in the story, Larry mentions to the reporter who was in the car when this happened, that “he really has this insatiable urge to be all things to all people, even when we try and stop him,” and I think that’s the perfect way to describe it. Making other people happy is genuinely something you enjoy and you will go out of your way to do it for no other reason than because you know just how happy you will make those people.

And then I’m sure my parents saw what was happening and they laughed and teased me and said “oh there she goes” and yeah, they were right, there I went. And here I am still am. I don’t even know if this is making any sense anymore but sometimes, when you’re telling someone how you feel, it doesn’t always make sense. Because emotions, these weird tricky little things of the human experience, don’t always make sense. But what I mean to say does make sense, at least in the way that these kinds of things can.

These things that I feel aren’t just surface level little crushes. I think they are more than that. Because it isn’t just about how you look or the fact that you are a singer or whatever (although those things are nice I must admit, especially the first one ;) ) but something deeper. It’s because everything you do, everything you say, comes from your heart. Everything you do oozes that sweet beautiful passion of someone who really means what they say, and lives it. You’ve said it yourself before, when you’re singing, you’re not merely just singing the songs, you are living them, you are them and I think that’s beautiful. And in an era of fake people, I think that is a big part of what drew me to you. I think I could tell by watching you and listening to you that you weren’t like the others, you were real and you lived every second of it.

And I just think it’s great to have someone to look up to that is real and undeniably himself. I could learn from that. Really, I could learn a lot of things from you. Because you are so wise and intelligent, sometimes I am just wowed by the things you manage to say. You know a lot of things about the world that I couldn’t know simply because of experience. I guess you could say that I am innocence and you are experience. It’s very interesting when innocence and experience can interact with each other. The experience sees the forgotten youth and the innocence sees the wiseness and intelligence that comes with having lived the world. And both of them can learn from each other.

And for a man that is so unapologetically, so unabashedly, so undeniably himself, I could learn a thing or two from that too. I’ve always watched you be loud and proud, say what you want, be spontaneous, and go out on a whim. Whenever there was something you wanted to do, you would just do it, (whether you should’ve or not) and sure, that’s left you in a few bad situations, but you still did something. You were never left wondering “what if?” You have always been a man of action and I admire that about you. You’ve never been one to care about what others thought of you and that is something that I admire so so much. Me, not to be dramatic, but I feel like that was stamped out of me some time ago. I find myself always caring about what people think, even if those people aren’t even around. I feel like I can hear them in my head when I’m alone, just trying to do something I enjoy. And sometimes I start to wonder if it’s really other people or if it’s really just me. But I need to learn to be unapologetically me, just like you. Because after all, I’m the only person who can, right? So maybe if you stick around for a bit longer, I can do that. But only if you stick around.

Because of all that, you really are such an inspiration to me. You’re really someone who goes after what you want instead of just sitting there wondering what other people would think. And maybe I should do that too.

You’ve shown me the power of song, the way that music can move our souls and transcend us to that other place. Music is an amazing thing I think, and I’m sure you agree. It has the unique power to transcend barriers and bring people from many different places together. And I’ve been constantly wowed by your ability to write. So much of music is empty these days it seems, but you fill that hole with your irresistible passion once again.

Everything you write comes from the heart, and where else could it come from but there? I don’t think it’s possible to write the things you do without throwing your entire soul into it, which is what you do. And when you sing those same songs, the passion is on another level. It really is infectious, contagious, irresistible and incredible, it pours out and spreads over everyone like a wave until they’re all caught up in this feeling, this high that takes you to another place, if only for a few minutes. While you’re there you can find important answers to things that you wouldn’t have found otherwise. It’s a magical place.

And I think I understand just how that feels from your perspective now. When I’m alone and there’s no one around, I like to sing too. I’m not very good, in fact, I listened to myself once and wanted to throw my entire computer out the window, and I beat myself up over it for days. I told myself “how could you possibly think you were good? You don’t even know anything” and then I started thinking “what’s the point if I’m not even good?” but then, a few days later, I realized that it doesn’t really matter whether you’re good or not, what matters is if you enjoy it, if you have fun, if, in that moment, you feel like you’re releasing something held captive in your soul, if you’re telling the world (even if that world is just your bedroom) what you have to say. What matters is if, in that moment, you go to that other place. And, if you do, then that’s really all that matters.

So, because of you, because of your passion, your refusal to be anything other than unapologetically you, I think I will try. And maybe someday, we’ll meet and sing a duet together (HA!).

Another thing I love about you is your dedication to the things you love and care about. I have a feeling that anyone who knows you personally is very privileged because they get to know one of the kindest, sweetest, and most caring people there is. And of course who benefits from that the most? Of course your special woman, Ali. I used to think that such beautiful relationships like that weren’t possible in the real world, and that they only existed in fiction but it makes me happy to see that they are possible. Maybe not possible for everyone, but just the fact that they are possible at all makes me happy.

A friend told me that she met you once, in Boston in 2018. She called out your name and you looked at her, your eyes met and she forgot everything she had been meaning to say, but according to her, that was alright because your expression softened like you just knew what she wanted to say. And you know what? I believe it, because that’s just the kind of person you are. Kind, gentle, sweet, and softhearted, with eyes that can see right through us (and hopefully they’re not afraid of anything they’ve seen). I know I said at the beginning of this that it’s important to communicate because people aren’t mind readers but scratch that, maybe you are one, and I’m not writing all of this because I want you to know, but just because I wanted to be the one to tell you.

And finally, I just want to say, on a more personal note (as if this whole entire thing hasn’t been personal) I am so grateful that you came into my life. I feel like I was saved in a way. At the beginning of 2020, the world outside was good, but the world inside me wasn’t quite so. I don’t want to go into details because honestly, it’s just too embarrassing to think about and sometimes I wish I could just forget it all, but for a few years before that moment on Christmas morning, I had lost my way. I had strayed from the path and stumbled into somewhere strange where I shouldn’t have been, and I was stumbling about, constantly trying to make sense of where I was and I just kept falling. But then on that morning, and over the next few months, a light appeared. It called to me and showed me how to get out of the place I had fallen into. And when I had finally gotten out, there was a man standing there with gorgeous blue eyes and the most beautiful smile I had ever seen. He reached out his hand towards me and I grabbed it.

And so, over the next few months, even as the world outside turned dark and scary, the world inside me had turned into a light. Even as the world outside turned dark and scary with so many questions, so many unknowns, it was okay, because you were there. The first new thing that I had seen from you was in March 2020 when you put out that song you called “Let Your Love Be Known” and I think that’s what I’m doing right about now. I’m letting my love be known.

I know that in reality, you probably wouldn’t want to hear all this stuff practically elevating you to God status or something, but as you’ve said before, you already have a messianic complex, so why not puff it up a bit?

But for real, thank you. Thank you for existing, thank you being a light, thank you for being there, thank you for helping me.

Just thank you.

[a-skirmish-of-wit-and-lit]

Book Review: Crooked Kingdom (Six of Crows #2) by Leigh Bardugo

Ketterdam may or may not survive Kaz Brekker, but do you know what? I've read this book twice and I know now - that's right, I know - I cannot survive the breadth of mettle, emotion, tragedy, or high stakes machinations Bardugo rains down on my beloved Dregs in this book. It's point blank impossible. I cannot do it. It's all too much! *cries a river* Again, I was surprised at how compelling the narrative managed to be even as the author balanced so many different perspectives. I tend to find multiple POV's (any more than three) to be cumbersome, distracting, but Bardugo utilized them perfectly. There was a tautness to the transitions between chapters, as well as between characters, and I'm impressed that she made me care about Kaz, Inej, Nina, Matthias, Jesper, and Wylan equally. I already handed over my heart to these heist-pulling assholes in Six of Crows, I did, but in this sequel they snatched my heart up whole and cradled it in their nimble gloved hands before lighting it up with an atomic bomb. I can honestly say I was beyond invested in all of their journeys. Better than that, they all grew to be more layered, interesting, and developed individuals over the course of both books. And the three big romances all grab you 'round the heartstrings and yank. I loved and ship them all. That's rare! (Just be sure to have your tissues ready, folks.) Look...I don't know if I should laugh, cheer, wail, riot, applaud, or sue, but I do know Crooked Kindgom was one wild unparalleled adventure! The action never staled, never tired. The plot was grim, violent, sexy, and engrossing--it was the perfect blend of high and low emotion. My fear, my hope and despair for the characters mixed with love so fierce it became a phoenix. That means I "could watch it burn a million times and still it will return." These idiots are fully etched into my soul now. There will be no trade backs here! All in all, I feel well fed as a reader. I have no complaints other than I want more Ketterdam, more crow canes to the throat, more "I would come for you" declarations, more deals and violence, more schemes and rescue attempts and romance that sends me to my knees. What I want, in other words, is simply More. Dregs. Shenanigans. *BURY ME HERE IN FUTILE WAIT WHY DON'T YOU*

4/5 stars

**Goodreads

[the-tubbo-admisitration]

Letters from the dictator

3

A little bird sat by the window of Tubbo's office. Schlatt had just come in to grab some paperwork he needed but he noticed that the bird held a letter. When he took a closer look at the envelope he noted that it bore the symbol of Pogtopia: a singular block letter POG on red wax.

Now Schlatt completely trusted Tubbo’s loyalty, that wasn't in question. But he instantly felt threatened at the idea that Wilbur was attempting to contact Schlatt's right hand man. If Wilbur was going to try and get one up over him, then Schlatt was going to cut this in the bud.

He tore the envelope open and read through the letter, feeling rage bubbling deep in his core- how dare Wilbur say or even think these things about Tubbo! Even if Tubbo’s morals had been compromised- which they hadn’t- then Schlatt would be more than capable of helping him see the light. Scghlatt saw right through Wilbur, this was an attempt to manipulate his right hand man, nothing more, nothing less.

He wouldn’t allow Wilbur even a chance at playing this game, he tore the letter into shreds. Even if there was a minuscule chance of Tubbo even entertaining the letter, Schlatt wouldn’t want to take the risk- what kind of a leader would he be otherwise?

He’d also made the decision to go to bed a little earlier, cutting down on how much coffee he drank and he actually felt a lot better, the culprit must have been his lack of sleep. When he’d joked about it to Tubbo, the kid had asked if he was sure and mentioned that it could come back worse. Schlatt felt a pang of worry as he really didn’t want to ever feel like that again but brushed it off as Tubbo just being a worried child. It would be fine.

He’d managed to reduce the amount of work Tubbo did, actually doing his presidential duties rather than relying on Tubbo to do it for him. He noticed that no one was very happy to see him out and about and he couldn’t say it didn’t hurt, he’d done so much for Manburg and they didn’t even look him in the eyes.

The only person who seemed glad was Niki, and she hated him. Schlatt could tell that it was due to her theories about Tubbo being evil and he really didn’t like that- Tubbo was such a sweet and naive kid. He publicly disapproved of her theories, the only time he saw any sort of approval from his citizens was when he stood up for Tubbo. He couldn't say it didn't hurt that Tubbo was preferred over him but he had to say he agreed with them, Tubbo just did it better- he was better at being nice to people after all.

There was only one time Schlatt ever didn’t feel too fond of Tubbo was when the walls were mentioned, he knew that he’d promised they’d be put back up but he really didn’t see how that would benefit Manburg to be all closed in like that. This seemed to make Tubbo furious, Schlatt understood that Tubbo was one for history but it really blew him away how aggressive he could get.

It had just been a normal night of doing paperwork together, Schlatt probably shouldn't have made a joke about the walls- but how was he to know Tubbo would push it. Tubbo had started to calmly explain why the walls were important to the Manburg legacy- to his legacy. But the way he spoke, the words he used and the way he kept referring to it as `L’manburg` really made Schlatt get annoyed. He clenched his fists and tried to remind himself that Tubbo was just a kid and not to get mad at him.

“-and it’s not like there’s anything to celebrate under your rule, I just-”

Oh that was it. Schlatt had worked so hard for this nation, it wasn’t his fault he’d fallen ill. He stood up, hand on his desk. “Is that so? Is that really what you think?”

Tubbo looked a little surprised to be interrupted, he frowned. “Uh, sir I was talking?”

“Answer the question Tubbo.”

Judging by Tubbo’s face, he could hear the venom in Schlatt’s words. Schlatt saw the kid’s posture instantly change, Tubbo stood taller and took a step back. “Yes, that is what I think mr president, it’s simply the truth. You’ve barely done anything during your administration.”

Those words were true, but hearing them coming from his right hand man hit Schlatt right where it hurt. He slammed his hand down on the desk, raising his voice. “You hold your tongue! Remember who you’re speaking to!”

Tubbo nodded, looking just as angry. “Don’t yell at me.”

“Don’t yell at you huh! Then don’t be so disrespectful! You think that’ll make me put the wall back up?! Well it won’t!!” Schlatt felt his rage growing slowly, he wasn’t too quick to anger, but when he did he blew up like an atom bomb. Somewhere in his mind he knew he shouldn’t scream at a child but he felt too much anger to quell his rage effectively.

“I said don’t yell at me!” Tubbo’s voice grew in volume, but still sounded mostly calm- Schlatt could see rage in his eyes.

Something flared up in Schlatt, a deep buried instinct that was attached to fight or flight, it was pure unrelenting animal. He held it back as he glared at Tubbo like he was the barrel of a gun. “Don’t you DARE talk to me like that!!”

“DON’T YELL AT ME!!” Tubbo practically screamed at him, fists balled and shaking.

“I’LL YELL AT YOU ALL I LIKE!!! I’M THE PRESIDENT HERE! YOU LISTEN TO ME!!” Schlatt exploded, roaring full volume at the child, banging his fist on the desk full force, denting it.

The moment he saw Tubbo flinching, Schlatt felt a pang of guilt. But nothing could prepare him for what happened next.

Tubbo glared with an expression that turned Schlatt’s guts sour. His eyes twinkled with something fierce, he gripped the nearest object- a mug currently holding some warm hot chocolate. He glanced down at the cup and a small grin grew on his face. “But I’ve done all your work.” he spoke quietly, calmly and with words thick with venom. He threw the mug full force at Schlatt’s head.

It shattered on impact, warm hot chocolate spilling over his face. As much as the liquid was warm, Schlatt felt ice in his spine. He felt himself fall back and everything seemed in slow motion, he looked Tubbo in the eye for a solid five minutes within seconds.

When he found himself on the floor, he looked up to see Tubbo standing over him, an expression that made him look like the devil incarnate. Schlatt thought back to the letter Wilbur had sent, maybe it hadn’t been as much of a manipulation tactic as he had first thought.

“Sir please, I’d asked you not to yell at me...you should’ve listened.” Tubbo’s voice was small again, meek and sad. Schlatt felt another pang of guilt, but maybe it wasn’t for Tubbo…

He lay there until Tubbo left, then he scrambled to his desk, grabbing his pen and some paper.

```To the dishonourable revolutionary leader and Pogtopian, Wilbur Soot,

I saw your letter addressed to Tubbo, he never got it. Before you chose to throw away this letter allow me to explain the purpose of this letter- I fear I am a fly caught in a web, I am humbly asking for help, or at least an audience. I recently have had bodily harm inflicted upon me by none other than my own right hand man, I fear his morality may be conflicted through no fault of my own. I will provide more context and information should we meet- which I hope is soon; I suggest next week on sunday, some time after midnight as he would be out of my office at around there.

Yours honestly, President J Schlatt of Manburg.```

He signed the letter and sighed, running his hand through the fluff of fur on his head. He never thought it would come to this… He took the bird that had sent the letter to Tubbo and gave it the letter, he watched it fly off and sighed. He just hoped that Wilbur would come- he knew he was taking a huge risk but he just hoped it would work.

[shannygoatgruff]

My Brother’s Keeper - Chapter VII

Genre: Psychological Thriller

Characters: Modern Ivar X Modern Hvitserk

Rating: MA 18+

Overall Warning:  Dark story told from an emotionally distributed person’s POV with graphic and sadistic material including rape, terror, torture, kidnapping, drug use, slash, implied incest, necrophilia, and insecurity. Heavy trigger warnings.  

Chapter Warning: Drug use.

Summary: Mama always said to be their brothers’ keeper. Now there is absolutely nothing these two won’t do for each other.  Boys will be boys…

Chapter VII

The smell of apples tickles my nose as soon as I roll over. Sleep has been damn near impossible tonight and Thora's fruit-scented shampoo is making me want to sneeze. Although it smells good; fresh and soft, like her, it’s unsettling.  It’s been interrupting my restless sleep for the past hour.  Opening my eyes, I stare at the back of her head and wonder if I cut her hair off, would I still be able to smell that fucking shampoo?

There is no good reason for me to be awake right now. Between finally going back to work, exploring the cabin with Ivar, my date with Thora, then coming back here and making love to her, I should be exhausted. But, I'm not. No matter how physically tired I am, I’m wide a-fucking-wake right now and a million thoughts are running through my head.

I turn the lamp on and I reach for the ashtray and my cigarettes.  I look at the pack in my hand uninterested, knowing full well this is not going to help me sleep.  If I really want to relax, I have a half a pound of weed and a gram of heroin in my night table. An A-Bomb is guaranteed to put me at ease, but I know Thora would have a stroke if she saw me doing that.  

She doesn't exactly know anything about what I do in my spare time. I can't exactly spring up the fact that I like to get high every now and again on her. Not when we're getting to the point in our relationship when I'm seriously considering taking things to the next level.  

I turned 28 today, well, yesterday.  I have to grow up sometime, right?

Something Ivar said today made me think.  He said we discovered that we were best brothers and soul mates when we were kids.  Did that mean we’ve been doing this since then?  When I think about how long we’ve been running together, I can only remember back so far.  It just feels like we’ve been doing this since forever ago.  I don’t even remember when or how it started.  But, if it’s been since we were teens, well then, that means I’m getting closer to when I should be able to stop, right?

It’s like everything is finally falling into place. 

Now that we’ve got this cabin, we can entertain ourselves until we finally get enough and then I can ask Thora to marry me. As much as I want that, the thought of leaving Ivar scares the shit out me. He's been my rock for so long, I honestly don't know what I'd do without him. Let’s face it, can’t really see myself having a breakdown and walking out on Thora to go find him to make it all better. That should be her job, right? But it can't be. She can't take care of me, because I have to take care of her. She wouldn't understand what goes on in my mind and she's never seen me not have my shit together.  

So maybe then, we should find a woman for Ivar, that way all four of us can live together, here.  He could still help me through a crisis and I won’t have to give up spending every day with my best friend.  The girls would become like sisters and we’d all end up hanging out together, all the time. Maybe we’d even all get high and have sex together. 

Oh God, that would be Utopia.  

I’m so excited.  I need to tell Ivar.  I don’t know if he’d be down for it.  He doesn’t have as much faith in me as I do and he fucking hates Thora.  But, I just need him to have an open mind.

"Where are you going?" Thora's eyes barely open when her hand touches the warm spot where I once was. She's a light sleeper and the slightest movement from me usually wakes her up.

Stepping into my boxer shorts, I lean over and kiss her fruity head. "To the bathroom. Go back to sleep." She nods at the whispered sound of my voice and drifts back off. Grabbing the small envelope from the drawer in my nightstand, I look to see that her eyes are fully closed before I slip it into the waistband of my underwear.  

I make sure to cover her chest with the sheet that is gathered around her lower half. When I was lying next to her, my body kept her covered, but now she's exposed. There's something that happens to me when her most intimate parts are uncovered. I feel unsettled. It's like it takes away her innocence. She needs to be covered and protected at all times.

With my ashtray in hand, I make my way to Ivar’s room, relishing at the feeling of my toes sinking into the carpet as I walk. He did make a good choice when he picked this carpet out.  I thought it was too expensive and unnecessary to have something this plush, but it does feel nice underfoot.  

My brother has got great taste in everything. 

Take this house for example; he picked it out and decorated it.  I love the colors, the furniture, even the floor plan. I especially love the way this hallway opens up just before his bedroom.  It makes were he sleeps seem so special and grand like it denotes this is the master bedroom and not just another sleeping quarter like where my bedroom is.  I know he’d switch with me if I asked him, but I don’t want that much responsibility. 

The person with the master is the person that has to know and do all the things. No fucking thank you.  

My mind is racing again.  I need to get some fucking sleep.  It’s nights like that I think I can actually feel myself going crazy.

Ivar’s door is cracked open. He knows that sometimes I just need to be around him. It doesn't matter what time of day or night it is, or what else he's doing, he always leaves the door cracked for me to come in whenever I need to. The funny thing is, he seldom comes into my room to check on me. It's just a given that if I need something, I will come to him.

"What's up, birthday boy?" The smell of soap and shampoo wafts throughout his bedroom as soon as I open the door. He's sitting on the bed watching television, but as soon as he sees me, he turns it off. His hands fold neatly in his lap, the weight of which pulls his sheet down far enough to expose his naked hip bone to me. His dirty clothes are piled in the corner. Judging from the dirt and mud on them, I guess he spent almost all night at the cabin. 

"Nothing," I stand in the doorway until he invites me in further. I can't take my eyes off of him. Everything he does captivates me.

Ivar pats the side of the bed next to him and pulls back the covers enough so that I know that's where he wants me. Obediently, I make my way across the room and sit down. I place the ashtray on his nightstand and look over at him as he hands me a Black & Mild. "You're lying." He knows me so well.

I guess he can read the questions on my face. 

It pains me to know that these are the nights that I'll be giving up when I marry Thora. It's not likely that I'll be sitting in bed with her, rolling a blunt, about to pour my heart out to her. "I don't know. Just a lot of shit."

Ivar's arm around my bare back sends a comforting warmth throughout my body. My head finds its way to his shoulder and my eyes close at the feeling. "Like what?" 

"What's gonna happen when we stop?" I know how he feels when I talk about stopping, but no matter how he tries to calm that fear, part of me will not settle. He sighs into my hair and his hand traces a path up and down my spine.

I can feel him watching me as I sit up and try to concentrate on sprinkling the marijuana onto the paper and not on the tears touching my eyes. It doesn't matter how much I try to mask it, he knows me. His hand touches my chin and turns my face toward him. "Nothing will change, Hvitserk. You think you want that other life, but you don't. We have a life together."

"But Thora…"

A bright smile cuts his face and his eyes light up at the mention of her name. “She can have the babies and we'll take of them. We can teach them everything we know. We don't need her." His future doesn't include her and he never makes mention of her with regards to us. Somehow I don’t think he’ll go for my plan of us living here together with our wives, either. He doesn’t believe I’m serious when I say we’re not going to do this forever. 

I nod and turn my attention back to the paper in my hand, sprinkling a small amount of the brown powder from the mini envelope, on top. Sitting the envelope next to the bag on the bed, I slowly fold over the paper and raise it to my tongue to wet the ends. An Atomic Bomb twisted to perfection, I hand it to Ivar.  

He shakes his head and reaches over to his nightstand and pulls an already rolled blunt from a bag.  He licks it and raises his brows at me, “Aw, you dick!” I playfully push his shoulder and swoon at his laughter, “You didn’t tell me you got Sherms.” 

I knew he visited that guy across town while I was at work but he didn’t tell me everything he bought.  He got Sherms – blunts dipped in formaldehyde…now, this is a party favorite!  A real crowd-pleaser.  

“We can trade.” He hands me the Sherm and takes my A-Bomb.  Considering that Thora is still asleep in my bed and I’m not sure how the embalming fluid is going to affect me tonight, I opt for the heroin laced weed.  He takes my lighter and sparks up.  

"Seriously though, how long do you think we can keep this up?  I mean, every single one of them has a fucking name or a life. No matter how much they want us, they all have something they leave behind." The smell of his weed hits me immediately and my head lightens at the contact. I have to look the blunt in my hand so I don’t have to meet his eyes. "It was easier when we'd just leave them…even if they were fucked up. I didn't blackout then."

"You only blackout when they make you angry." Ivar's voice is thick with the smoke that he's trying to keep in his lungs. There's a cough and then the sound of him sipping. I love the silky way his voice sounds when he's smoking. "If they would just fucking listen, they could walk away."

The laugh that comes out of my mouth makes Ivar laugh, too. It's bullshit and we both know it. Even if they were left alive, there's no way in hell they'd be able to walk anywhere. Ivar always makes sure of that. "I'd like to see that."

"Well, maybe not walk." He chuckles.  He holds the lighter to the end of my blunt and smiles when I gulp in the smoke. Tossing it onto the covers, he leans back against the headboard and closes his eyes. "It just feels natural, ya know? It's nothing better than coming home from a hard day's work and knowing that I'm going to be able to hang out with my soul mate and have a night to remember. And I do, Serk. I remember every night."

He always calls me his soul mate. I feel like he's mine, too. Best friends never really seem to cover it, so we made up the term best brothers.  But that only seemed to describe part of our bond.  What Ivar and I share is so much more than brotherhood.  The connection between us is all-encompassing.  With him, there is nothing that I'm embarrassed about. We just get and need each other. 

I don't think that I could ever have as intimate of a relationship with anyone as I do with him. There isn't anything that I need that I can't go to him for. There isn't anything that he wouldn't do for me. All the fears, the pain, the questions, the freakouts… the laughter, the happiness, the elation… the rush, the adrenaline, the pleasure, the orgasms…I feel all of it most intensely when he’s around. And truthfully, I love the fact that he's there to share it with me.

"Me, too." I choke off the smoke right before everything starts to slow down around me.  "Just scared that you won't be there one day if I need you."

Ivar sits up and places his weed in the ashtray. I feel his hand on my back moving up toward my neck and the soft grip he places on it. Without asking my permission, he pulls my head down to his chest before reclining back against the headboard with me. "Brother, I'm always gonna be here. You know that. I don't care what happens in the future. I'm never going to leave you. I'm never going to let anyone come between us." He lifts my blunt of out my hand and places it next to his, allowing me to wrap my arm around his bare waist and enjoy the feeling of comfort that he is providing. "I know you, Hvitserk. I know your heart. You're a good man. You just have to permit yourself to enjoy life. We help these people. We show them a world that they didn't know they wanted. You've seen how much they enjoy it. They love it and they love us for it. We free 'em.”  He kisses the top of my head. “We're fucking gods to them."

He's right. I know he's right. I know that look in their eyes and the feeling of them fighting against me. They're excited by it, they get into the role. But when will I ever stop wanting to play? "But it can't last forever."

"It will if we want it to. We've got the best of both worlds. We get to have a life and an afterlife, all at the same time. I feel it growing in me and watching you, I know it's growing for you, too. You keep trying to convince yourself that you can stop, but that only makes you angrier. You can't stop it, Serk. Just enjoy it now and worry about tomorrow, tomorrow. It's so much more fun if you have fun doing it.”  His voice is growing lazy and I know that he'll be falling asleep soon. This isn't uncommon. He always stays up and holds me until I fall asleep, never letting me out of his arms. "I found something for you in the cabin."

"What?" My heart races at the prospect of a present.

With a slight chuckle, he squeezes my shoulders tighter, "A collar and a leather leash. I know how you like to let them have free reign to move around. And, I moved the mattress in front of the fireplace. I connected the leash to a chain I found and that’s all bolted into the stone so it’s long enough for you to play." Ivar's voice is getting fainter. He'll be asleep in no time.

"Thank you." I smile up at him and kiss his jaw like I used to do to Father. He's so good to me.

With a lazy smile, he fights to keep his heavy lids open.  He leans down and brushes his lips against my nose.  "Happy birthday, baby."

Lying on his chest, I listen to the gentle hum of his breathing, and his heart pumping so much love for me through his body, I let my mind shift to the unlimited possibilities in the place that Ivar found for us. Just the thought of it makes me hard again.

With a quick kiss on Ivar's cheek, I make my way back down the narrowing hallway to my bedroom. The smell of Thora's shampoo lures me to the bed and the silhouette of her body in the dark room is enough to make me pull off my boxers and the covers resting on her. Completely enveloping her body with mine, I remind myself to be gentle with her. I have so many thoughts and desires coursing through me right now, that I can't chance hurting her.

She's still asleep, but her legs move easily allowing me to push into her with force. For a split second, she feeds the need that I have. At that moment, when she realizes that I'm inside of her and her eyes fly open in surprise, I feel the hunger starting. But the more I look at her and notice how her eyes grow soft and cloud over with love; I remind myself that she's special. I don't like to hold back, but I have to when I feel like this. She will cure my immediate need, but she won’t settle my hunger.

Tonight, I make love. Tomorrow, I will feed.

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Fire Away: Chapter 8

Also on Ao3: Fire Away: Chapter 8

Frank was so fucked. He watched Karen dozing on his completely numb arm as the morning light streamed through the balcony doors and he couldn't tear his eyes from her. Last night kept playing over and over in his head. The expanse of her beautiful pale skin, perfectly shaped breasts, the noises she made when he had his hands on her. The way she looked at him, like he mattered. Like he wasn't a monster. Like she loved him.

He watched her face as she took in the long slow breaths of someone in deep restful sleep, his eyes scanning her features and memorizing every line, as if he hadn't already. Her bruises had almost completely faded, leaving just a light discoloration at her temple and he wanted to press his lips to that spot and kiss away the last of the damage. For a moment he nearly forgot why he shouldn't be doing this, he just reveled in holding this incredible, beautiful woman in his arms.

Frank was unable to stop the flash of pride in his chest, he was one lucky bastard. Her words, I never regret you , echoed in his head over and over and each time he felt a little piece of his soul repairing itself. His demons never retreated for long though, rendering what Karen had managed to rebuild back to rubble. Suddenly it hurt to look at her, flashes of the family he couldn't protect filling his vision only this time her face was there too, covered in blood and unblinking.

He could no longer lie still, so to keep from waking her, Frank stood and threw his sweats on before stepping out on the balcony. She couldn't love him. He doesn't get to have that anymore. Karen was smart, beautiful, strong and resilient. She could have anyone she wanted. She fought for justice and saw the best in people while still accepting the darkness in them. There was no universe where he deserved her love.

It was that moment, with sickening clarity, thinking about her bravery, her smile, her kindness and her wicked sense of humor, that Frank realized he loved her. Most people felt light with a realization like that but all he could feel was a mix of guilt and disdain for himself. That's what she fucking needs, your psycho ass adding your bullshit to hers . A small childish part of him had hoped maybe it was just sexual tension and once they got that out of the way, they could walk away from each other. He knew how ridiculous that was when his heart wrenched painfully at the thought of being done with Karen when this was all over.

Frank was lost in his thoughts, not acknowledging the chill of the morning until a warm pair of arms wrapped around his torso and Karen pressed herself flush to his back.

Her voice was light but he could hear tension and worry there as well, "I could hear you thinking in my sleep." He felt her lips moving against his skin as she spoke, "Wanna talk?"

Frank turned in her arms so they rested chest to chest against the balcony railing. Her hair was mussed from sleep and she was squinting against the morning sun. Frank shifted a bit to shade her eyes with his body and the smile she gave him was so radiant he was nearly blinded himself. Her eyes were so blue Frank felt like he could drown in them and for a moment all he could do was stare in wonderment, his hand coming up to rest against the side of her face.

She leaned into his hand and stared at him expectantly and it took him a minute to remember she had asked him a question. Looking to the side to try and break the spell she had put over him, Frank took a deep breath, steadying himself for what he needed to do. He kept his voice low as he dropped the hand from her face to rest at her hip, "This," He looked at her hand that had come to rest on his chest over his heart, "is not a good idea."

Karen's beryl eyes turned to flint, pinning him to the spot even as she took a step back. Frank instantly felt the warmth she had brought retreat with her. He tried not to let it affect him. He tried not to feel the loss as acutely as he did. Tried but didn't succeed.

Frank wanted so badly to say something, anything to make her smile again or something to make her see how right he was but they had been through all of this before. So instead, he braced his arms on the railing behind him and regarded her carefully with narrowed eyes.

"Honestly, Frank, you give me whiplash." Her eyes were still hard but the gentleness with which she addressed him did far more damage, "You think that you being around is what gets me hurt. The truth is, it's watching you leave that hurts me more than anything. Seeing the way you look at me, the way you touch me, only for you to turn it off a second later and disappear." She gives a humorless laugh and his lungs constrict when he sees her eyes swimming. If only she knew how much he couldn't turn it off.

His throat is tight but he forces the words out anyway, "I can't be responsible for getting you killed Karen, I just can't. That's why this is a bad idea, 'cause when you're around I forget why I'm supposed to push you away."

She wiped a stray tear away quickly and took a step closer to him. Frank gripped the railing until his knuckles turned white, trying so hard not to reach for her. He was busy watching her rose colored lips as she pulled them between her teeth so when she spoke again it took him a moment to process her question.

"Then why are you here?" She asks, raising an eyebrow at his frustrated confusion, "I know you don't want anything to happen to me, but Frank, my job is dangerous. I deal with dangerous people almost every day. I mean, for God's sake, I work with the devil of Hell's Kitchen. If you think you shouldn't be around me, you didn't have to track me down, you could have left it up to Matt to help me." He hopes she doesn't notice the flash of contempt he feels cross his face but she doesn't miss anything with him. She huffs out a humorless laugh before fixing him with a hard stare, "You don't get to make me walk away only to pop back up when it's convenient for you. It's not fair. To either of us. Either you are in my life or you aren't, you can't have both."

Logically he knew she was right, he's sure he has told himself that before, but hearing it fall from her lips caused his chest to spasm painfully. He felt panicked, like he had to make the call right now which caused anger to spike since he thought he had already made that call. He's the fucking Punisher, he didn't need anyone, everything he needed died at that carousel but facing her now, last night playing over in his head in startling detail, he realized he hadn't been as sure as he thought. His chest and throat hurt, everything he was trying to say blocked his airways and made him choke, a small distressed sound the only thing he managed. Frank was shaking his head, trying to jostle some coherent thought loose and his eyes were wild, like a trapped animal.

Karen saw him struggling and like the angel she was brought his attention back to her and away from his spiraling thoughts, her voice was solid as she said, "Back in that hospital room, I told you to make it mean something, me being there. What were you going to say? Before the kid walked in."

The vortex of his thoughts came to a sudden, disorienting halt, focused solely on that memory. Clicking his tongue, Frank turned to glare into the distance. He really didn't want to relive that day. He regretted so much about it.

"I don't know." he said.

"That's bullshit." she spat.

He turned to look at her, her cheeks were slightly pink, her eyes glinting in the early morning light and she was so damn beautiful. Calm and steady to his anxious, agitated uncertainty. He wanted to tell her there was nothing he wanted to say, that he had already said it. He wanted her to believe that he was pushing her away because he genuinely didn't want her. But they never lied to each other.

His voice was rough, almost resigned. "I had no idea how to tell you everything I wanted to in the time I had left to do it. I wasn't lying, Karen, I don't want to give up the war. I don't know if that will ever change, it is something that is a part of me now. It may have always been a part of me. I thought if I could push you away you would be safe." He gave her a pointed look. "That was obviously a bit naive of me, knowing you. I couldn't stand the thought of you getting hurt because of me. Still can't. The idea was I would distance myself, then I could just focus on fightin', cleanin' up the city without worrying it would reach you. But I can't stop thinkin’ about you. Thing is, you don't know when to quit, even when you're just in my head."

Karen gave a little sniff, stepping back into his space and placing her hand back over his heart. The smallest touch, one she had perfected, one that could dismantle his armor in seconds. He wondered if she knew how much it affected him. How he could feel that small touch in every atom of his being. She stared at her hand where it rested for a moment while he stared at her and tried to control his breathing.

"In that hospital room, when I said you could love someone else, instead of another war, I didn't mean you had to give up the war. I just meant you could love someone else, not just the war. I do wish you could leave it behind but I understand why you can't." She looked up at him, eyes like blue fire as she flexed her fingers on his chest, voice vehement, "I know who you are Frank Castle. I know what you are capable of. Hell, I've seen what you are capable of, first hand. I know you can kill a man with your bare hands. Take down entire cartels in a matter of a week. I also know that you nearly gave your own life to give David Lieberman his back. That you would have given everything to keep Amy safe, both people you barely knew. That you used your own body to shelter me from a spray of bullets, from a fucking bomb. I know that this mission you have means dangerous people will be after you. Most importantly, I know, I would rather face that danger with you than live safely without you. What you do with that is your call."

Frank could feel his heart beating harshly against his ribs. It almost felt as though it were trying to break out of his chest to rest in her capable hand, God knows she already had his heart metaphorically, she might as well have it literally. He watched in fascination as her other hand loosened his death grip on the railing to place it on her hips once more and his other hand followed suit without a second thought from him.

"I'm not asking you for forever right now Frank. I am just asking that, once we are back in the city and this whole mess is over, you give this a chance. I can't promise that shit won't go sideways but I want us to try. Okay?"

It was a bad idea. He knew it was but that voice that always urged him to deny her couldn't be heard over her soft breathing as she is watching him expectantly. With no shortage of hope and anxiety. Everything swirling around in his chest made it difficult to form words but finally, he said, "Okay."

The smile that tilted her lips would have knocked him off his feet if her hands hadn't come up to wrap around the back of his head, pulling him to her so she could ghost a quiet, "Okay" over his lips before she was kissing him fully, running her tongue over his and holding on to him like he may fade away in her grasp.

Finally Frank pulled back, giving her a light kiss on the cheek before turning her back towards the door and nudging her into the condo. "Let's get our stuff together, we've already stayed too long, we need to get moving." He tried to sound rough and in control but it came out soft and more of an entreaty than he had intended. Judging by the little smirk Karen threw over her shoulder she wasn't impressed but she dressed quickly and started to gather her things.

They ate a quick breakfast with what was left in the fridge and in less than an hour they had all of their things together and loaded up, surveying the condo to ensure they didn't leave anything behind. Frank glanced over and felt a pang of sadness when he saw the open longing in Karen's face. Maybe, if they get through this and actually get their shit together, maybe they could come back. Actually explore and relax and just...be. But they had things to take care of first so he turned, watching her carefully as she turned as well, giving him a small smile before she stepped out of the door.

Mountains rolled by as they hit the interstate headed East and they settled in for the long drive back. It was a quiet comfortable silence in the cab as both were lost in thought, whether it was about their earlier conversation or what was to come. It had been nearly two hours when Frank glanced over to see Karen sifting through her bag. She held up the burner phone they had purchased for her triumphantly and began to punch in a number.

Karen didn't even look over to respond, she knew Frank was dividing his attention between the road and her. "Watch the road soldier, I'm just calling Foggy. I want to check in and let him know that we are headed back. I won't give him any details yet, maybe once we are back in the city we can get everyone together to finalize a plan." She looked over to him, he wouldn't say it was to ask permission, more of a chance for him to protest and her to probably do it anyway.

When he glanced over again he gave a small nod. If it were up to him he would storm the place, give the lady no other option but to leave Karen alone and then find a way into Rikers to kill Fisk. Simple. But this was Karen's plan, her situation. As much as he wanted to take care of it for her and remove all the danger, he knew she would resent him for taking it out of her hands. That being said, if it looked at all like shit was going sideways he was taking over, she could be as resentful as much as she wanted, as long as she was alive when it was over.

Frank focused on his driving, occasionally checking the rear view to ensure there was no one following them. When he tuned back in it was to Karen laughing quietly into the phone. He had to force himself to keep his eyes on the road instead of putting his full attention on her. It was novel, witnessing Karen just...being. No bad guys, no immediate danger, no bombs or hospital rooms. Just Karen talking to her friend.

"Yeah Foggy, I'm fine, I promise. We are headed back now. What?" A startled laugh. "Sorry I forgot to get you a souvenir, will a gas station shot glass be okay? Sunglasses for Matt? What an original idea you have." She giggled a little bit more before he heard her sober up. "Yeah, we know who is behind it, I-" He looked over just in time to see her roll her eyes. "Tell Matt eavesdropping is rude, even if it is a superpower." He couldn't help the small chuckle that escaped, Karen turned to him with a smirk and a wink. "I'll fill you both in once we are back in the city and I've got all of the information. I want to be sure we aren't being followed and there is a safe place for us to meet, I don't want to put you in danger." Her voice gave a little tremor but before he even had a chance to reach for her, she gave another laugh, "You're right, Marci would probably scare off anyone threatening her Foggy Bear."

Frank's eyes went wide, storing that information for future ammo in case he needed it. Judging by the loud groan he heard over the line, Nelson had not wanted that said out loud. A couple more reassurances and pleasantries and Karen was hanging up the phone, tucking it back into her bag.

Clearing his throat, Frank gave her a mischievous look, "So...Foggy Bear, huh?"

Karen bit her lip, laughter in her voice, "He's never going to forgive me for saying that in front of you. Try not to torture him too much with it."

A loud ping came from Frank's front pocket before he could make any promises he couldn't keep. He pulled it from his pocket and handed it to Karen to read the message.

"It's from David." She said, quickly scanning the text. "He got the information all together and has sent it. Once we get somewhere with internet I'll download it and work on it more. He also says your safe house is clear, there hasn't been any activity there since before you left."

Frank scowled. He never gave David any indication of where his safe house was located. They were going to have to have a serious talk about boundaries, that may include Frank punching him at some point.

He glanced over quickly when he heard Karen snort, she was looking at him, "You never told him where it was did you? He just used creepy hacker skills to find it didn't he?"

With a resigned sigh, Frank just nodded.

"God, he is terrifying." she said, a mix of admiration and a healthy dose of wariness in her voice.

"He can be but he's also an annoying idiot so I guess it balances out." He gave her a sideways grin when she let out a surprised laugh, tucking the phone into the center console and settling herself back in the seat.

Despite the shit storm they were driving back into, Frank felt at ease. They bantered about music, both settling on an old rock station for the trip. He outlined why The Boss was one of the best musicians out there and she nodded along in a placating manner. Her preferences were all over the place, some he could agree with others that just had him shaking his head.

It took them nearly two days, Frank insisted they take their time so they could arrive back in the city when it was dark. Karen would take over driving when Frank got tired and he would crash on the cot in the back or just lay the passenger seat back. The easy conversation slowed as they entered the city and their situation came back into focus. Frank took them in convoluted loops through the city until he was confident they wouldn't be followed before he finally pulled into a small abandoned warehouse.

Despite David's reassurance, Frank did a quick sweep of the premises before letting Karen out of the van, insisting she stay in the back where he had her hiding for most of their trip through the city streets. When he gave the all clear and she stepped out, Karen turned slowly taking in her surroundings, from the mini-fridge next to the table that held his burner for cooking to his sparse cot and neatly stacked clothes. Of course there were also stacks of weapons  lining the walls and a computer set up he had gotten from David. Frank cringed inwardly when she leveled her gaze back on him, he fully expected her to give him the third degree for living like this.

Before she could comment he spoke up, "I have an apartment. I stay here when I need to lay low or if I need to do some recon." Karen gave him a small knowing smile and he felt the tips of his ears turning red. Here he was, a grown man, feeling as though he needed to explain his living situation to a pretty girl like he was a teenager who didn't clean his room. Admittedly, it had been awhile since he had been to his apartment and it wasn't much more furnished than this but she didn't need to know that.

Turning back to the van, Frank busied himself with unloading the rest of their supplies before he could say anything else embarrassing. The first thing he brought out was Karen's laptop, he set it up with the password for the wifi and pulled up the most comfortable chair he had to the workstation for her. He was a bit distressed, these kinds of conditions were okay when it was just him but he hated the idea of Karen living with so little comforts, even if it was only temporary. It couldn't be helped though, so he tried to make it as comfortable as he could.

Karen sat down at the laptop giving him a grateful smile and began digging through the files that David sent over. He knew she would be at it for awhile so he went about checking his ammo and supplies, grimaced at the very empty mini-fridge, and then made up the cot with the procured hotel comforter.

It wasn't long before he had everything in order so he stepped over to where Karen was jotting down notes and furiously scrolling through files. He gripped the back of her chair, reading a bit over her shoulder, "Finding anything you can use?"

She made a somewhat noncommittal noise and continued to scroll for a few more seconds before she answered distractedly. "There is a ton of suspicious activity here, a lot of it corresponding with her communication with Fisk and that is just the phone calls I see on her calendar, there are probably more. If it were anyone else, I would say yes, we should be able to take them down with what we have here." Pausing for a second to bury her hands in her hair, Karen let out a disgusted huff. "But this is Fisk we are talking about. This is the second time we have sent him to prison and he still has just as much freedom as he did before. It's infuriating."

Frank moved his hands to her shoulders, rubbing them soothingly but when he spoke his voice was hard and unforgiving, "He needs to be put down."

Karen's shoulders tensed for a moment before she lowered her arms with a resigned sigh. "I really want to disagree with you Frank. I really want to say that the justice system will prevail and he will be held responsible but we both know that sometimes the justice system doesn't work, don't we?" She looked over her shoulder to give him a sad smile and Frank wished the world was good enough to deserve Karen Page.

There was really nothing he could say to that so he brushed his lips over her forehead in a light kiss before pulling back and heading to his own computer. "I'm going to go over the blueprints for the house, look at security details and schedules and put together a tactical plan. Do wanna meet with the lawyers tomorrow, run what we got by 'em?" He turned enough to see that she had already gone full steam back into her research, giving him a distracted 'Mhm' as she made a couple more notes.

Shaking his head with a smirk, she was an investigator through and through, Frank sat in his own chair and began booting everything up. While he waited he pulled out his phone and sent David another request.

The house, well mansion really, that Vanessa Fisk was residing in was a pretty basic floor plan and Frank had outlined an infiltration plan in a couple of hours, leaving room for adjustments if they got any additional information from Nelson or Murdock. All said and done he figured he could have Karen and himself in and out of the house within 30 minutes, more than enough time to say what needs to be said and get out. His email pinged, David getting him the earlier requested information just in time for Frank to shift his attention to his next objective.

A few more hours passed and vaguely acknowledged Karen moving behind him before he heard the bathroom door shut. There were many moving pieces with this objective and he didn't want to miss any details so he poured over it again and again.

"What is this?" He had been aware of Karen exiting the bathroom but it still startled him a bit to hear her just over his shoulder. She could be damn quiet when she wanted to be, noted.

"It's the blueprints for Rikers, personnel list and where the high profile inmates are kept." Frank felt Karen go completely still.

"No." she said. Her voice was sharp and when he turned to look at her, her eyes never left the screen.

"What do you mean 'no'?" His own tone was sharper than he meant.

"I mean, no, Frank. You're not breaking into Rikers to kill Fisk." She finally tore her eyes from the screen to glare at him. "Are you crazy? Do you want me to wrap you up in a pretty bow for them? Go ahead and put you in an orange jumpsuit to save them the trouble so all they have to do is throw you in your cell, lock you up and throw away the key?"

Frank felt his own anger rising, "You just agreed that he needed to be put down." He stood and took a few steps toward her when she turned, tugging at her hair and cursing quietly.

She whipped around so fast her hair came undone from the loose bun she had it in, hissing at him like a feral cat, "I said the justice system fails sometimes. How the hell did you get, 'Break into a maximum security prison to murder the biggest kingpin in New York' out of that?" She leaned against the wall, crossing her arms over her chest and stared him down.

Frank advanced, stopping just in front of her, his voice dark and echoing around the room. "He's a threat Karen. He's already had too many chances at you and I'm not gonna let him have another one. He signed his own death warrant when he signed that letter to you. Besides, I've got unfinished business with him." He started to turn but Karen gripped his arm, spinning him back around.

"You are NOT breaking into Rikers, Frank. Whether or not he deserves it, I'm not letting you put yourself in that situation for me! So fucking forget it!" She was shouting, her cheeks were red and her chest heaved with her anger, it would have been a beautiful sight if he wasn't so pissed off, his own breath coming in angry bursts.

Placing a hand by her head, Frank leaned in, his voice going deadly soft, "Fisk is a dead man, Karen. There's nothing that is going to change that." He saw a shiver run through her as she looked away but when she brought her eyes back to his, his lungs seized. The fire in her blue eyes burned hotter than anger and he had to place his other hand on the wall as well to steady himself when she slid her hands under his shirt to skim up his sides.

It was his turn to shiver when she ran her nails down his sides to hook in the waist of his jeans, her voice was quiet as well when she leaned in. "I'm not asking you to let him live, Frank. I'm asking you to not throw your life away to kill him.” Her breath tickled the sensitive skin behind his ear and Frank was dizzy with the sudden shift. He wanted to still be angry but the way she was running her fingers along his waistband he found that his anger was bleeding into arousal, the adrenaline fueling something else entirely. His body was reacting to her without much input from his brain.

She pulled back to look at him and the mischief in her eyes made him step closer until they were chest to chest. Karen’s back was pressed against the wall and Frank leaned his forearm above her head, his lips ghosting over her temple, “Are you trying to distract me from the discussion, ma’am?”

Karen turned just enough to nip his jaw, one of her hands ghosting down the front of his jeans, making him clench his teeth, her voice was low as she alternated between laying dragging kisses over his jaw and sucking at his pulse-point, “That depends, is it working?”

It definitely was. Between the residual anger and adrenaline from their fight and her wicked hands running patterns over his stomach, occasionally dipping into the waist of his jeans, he was rock hard. With the hand braced above Karen’s head, he buried his fingers in her hair and lightly jerked her head around to devour her mouth. Frank felt his cock twitch when she let out a breathy moan. It seemed Karen liked a little rough handling and that was knowledge that nearly had Frank weak in the knees with need. Once he had ravaged her mouth to the point they were both panting, he started to push away from the wall  and guide them over to the cot but Karen dug in her heels and kept him in place by holding on to the front of his waistband, her long fingers tucked against his skin while her thumb circled over the button.

Frank was distracted by the sight for a moment, staring down to where her hand was so close but not nearly close enough, he wanted so badly to guide her hand further but didn’t want to push too hard. However, when he looked back up to Karen, she had a determined devilish smirk on her lips and he felt the silky strands of her hair still tangled in his fingers slip free as Karen slowly slid down the wall until she was looking up at him from her knees, her eyes wide and the darkest blue he had ever seen them.

The image made Frank blink rapidly to ensure he wasn’t dreaming because if he woke up from this it damn well may kill him. When Karen leaned forward until she was directly in front of the bulge in his jeans, he held his breath. She studied him for a moment before she brought one of her hands up to cup him firmly, drawing that damned bottom lip between her teeth and suddenly the breath he had been holding left him raggedly as he watched in fascination when she dragged her teeth gently over the head of his dick through the fabric of his pants.

“Holy shit .” His voice was broken and he was surprised he hadn’t been able to say anything considering he still hadn’t been able to refill his lungs.

Karen drew back just enough to allow her nimble fingers access to the button and zipper of his jeans, making short work of them before hooking her fingers into his pants and underwear alike and slowly tugging them down. She hummed appreciatively as he sprung free and Frank had to bite back a groan when she turned hungry eyes up to him. If there had ever been any question of the power Karen Page had over him it evaporated when she slid her hands up his thighs so she could dig strong fingers into his hips and run her tongue from base to tip of his cock, never breaking eye contact with him.

He let out a growl, burying the hand not braced against the wall into her hair, “God Dammit Karen, you’re so fuckin’ sexy.” She didn’t reply but he saw the shiver run through her body, instead she ran the flat of her tongue up him again this time wrapping her lips around the tip bobbing her head shallowly over him. Frank rested his forehead against his arm on the wall for a second, clenching that fist tightly, closing his eyes and just focusing on the sensation. Her lips felt so fucking good on him, he felt lightheaded.

His eyes snapped open and another curse escaped him when he felt one of Karen’s hands wrap around the base of his cock, her mouth sinking to where her hand was squeezing before he rocked back in time to see her full lips slowly dragging back up. Her pace was torturous but he fought to keep his hips still, letting Karen take her time. As torture goes, this was more than acceptable and Frank would endure it happily.

Having  Karen Page, a woman so fierce and strong, on her knees in front of him was a humbling experience for Frank and he extricated his fingers from her hair only to reverently push them back through the silken strands, pulling it out of her face and gripping it loosely at the crown of her head. Her lips leave him with a soft pop and she looks up at him with hooded eyes when she strokes him firmly with expert hands. Frank lowered his hand from the wall to run a calloused thumb over her bottom lip, smearing a bit of saliva across the swollen skin. She catches his digit between those sinful lips and swirls her tongue over it before sucking lewdly, rolling her palm over the head of his cock at the same time. Frank has to remove his hand from her hair to lean against the wall once more when his knees threaten to give out.

Releasing his thumb, Karen gives him an innocent smile which, considering the proficient way she was building him towards release, was far from innocent. He gives her smirk of his own, burying his other hand in her hair this time and slowly, giving her a chance to protest, guides her back to his straining dick. She purrs, parting her lips slightly, just enough to drag them down one side of him and back up the other before she opens again and takes as much of him as she can. Frank growls at the sensation, he’s too big for her to take him completely in her mouth, but she doesn’t flinch when he feels himself bump against the back of her throat. Goddamn . As if he didn’t already worship this woman enough. She moved fluidly back and forth over him, her hands alternately gripping and pumping him to groping at his hips and thighs.

The telltale coiling of pressure at the base of his spine had Frank tightening his fingers in Karen’s hair urging her to move faster. She didn’t need much encouragement, bobbing her head quickly, her hands moving in tandem with her talented mouth. He was on fire, he felt sweat dripping down his spine and every muscle in his body was straining to reach his release.

Frank never tore his eyes from her face as he ground out a warning, “I’m coming, fuck , Karen-” She hummed against him and snapped her eyes open to watch him, never slowing her pace. It only took a couple more pumps from her and Frank was letting out a low gravely shout, leaning heavily into the wall as his orgasm tore through him. A deep moan escaped him as Karen continued to work him over, drawing every last bit of his release from him. When he had the strength to open his eyes again he watched as Karen sat back from him, holding his gaze as she swallowed, giving him a knowing smirk when he growled lowly at the sight.

He tugged gently at the hair he still had fisted in his hand and helped her back to her feet. Before she could say anything, Frank had her pressed against the wall once more, kissing her with all the gratitude and adoration he was feeling. When he pulled back he shook his head, smirking at her smug expression. His voice was rough, still recovering, as he attempted to reprimand her, “You don’t fight fair, Ms. Page.”

She smiled coyly at him, “Yeah, well, all’s fair in love and war and all that.”

Frank gave a huffing laugh, pressing his lips over hers in a quick kiss. “The discussion isn’t over, just to be clear.”

Karen’s smile grew before it turned into a yawn. Taking her hand, Frank pushed away from the wall and moved them toward the cot.

“What are you doing? I still have stuff I want to go over.” She asked even as she stifled another yawn.

“It’s been a long couple o’ days, we need to get some sleep. We can sort out the rest tomorrow.” Truth be told, if it were just him, he would stay up all night until he had everything planned to his liking but he didn’t just have his own health and safety to look after at the moment so Frank climbed into the cot first before pulling her down and tucking her between him and the wall and tugging the blanket over both of them. Despite her protests, Karen tucked into his side, burying her face in his neck with an arm thrown over his chest and was breathing deeply in a matter of moments. He wasn’t far behind, turning just enough to be able to drape an arm over her waist, Frank breathed her in, honeysuckle and vanilla, and drifted off as well.