#but how is a goth man supposed to brood

[bigbadvv0lf]

Some quick Tyshin doodles to stay sharp, and toying with new design details

[mariasont]

THE BIMBO RECEPTIONIST WAS SO CUTE

now id like to introduce, goth/metalhead!bimbo!reader x spence ( more of the opposites attract vibe )

super dark clothes and jewelry and looks like elvira a little bit, maybe a few piercings and tattoos for spencer to oogle at

Brooding - S.R

a/n: EEK i hope u love this as much as i loved writing it :)

bimbo reader has my heart <3

masterlist

‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧

pairings: spencer reid x goth!bimbo!reader

warnings: mmm none! fluff! just two cuties being cute!

wc: 0.6k

Your pen was a flurry of motion, streaking bold lines upon the sketchpad. Technically, you should be sorting through the endless stack of files, keeping them pristine and accessible for the agents. You were always ahead of your tasks, and this job, while not earth-shattering, mattered to you. But when you had a muse as captivating as yours, it was hard to put the pen down. 

That muse being the man rifling through the files before you, his face a masterpiece of pretty lines and angles, unaware of the intensity of your focus. You contemplated expressing your admiration aloud, but the idea seemed a little too forward. So, you poured that impulse into a portrait, tracing the contours of his handsome face.

But it proved difficult to accomplish with his relentless pacing. Each step he took sparked another round of redos on the pad. Your tongue, tipped with a silver piercing, unconsciously found its way to your lip as you wrestled with the proportions of his nose, erasing furiously to get it just right.

You let out a sigh, louder than intended, and it was enough to pause his steps. "Sir, can you please stand still?"

He looked utterly baffled, lifting his brows toward his hairline. As your eyes met, he pointed to his chest, his question simple and unsure, "Huh? Me?"

A quick nod sent a ribbon of dyed hair fluttering before your eyes as you beamed at him. "Yes, you! Please, if you don't mind," you murmured, your fingers racing over the paper. "I just need, like, one more second."

He stood frozen, brows remaining quizzically raised. Why he complied, he couldn't say, but the sight of you, so engrossed in your art, your necklaces chiming in time with your movements, and how your bold makeup seemed to frame your face perfectly kept him rooted to the spot.

You peered up through your lashes, giving him a sheepish grin, cheeks lightly flushed as you set the pen down.

"All done! You're free to go. Thanks for being so patient," you chirped, gently waving the paper in the air as if to dry the ink faster.

"Can I at least see the result of my patience?" Spencer asked, his approach casual yet expectant. 

You hugged the sketchpad to your chest, a gentle laugh escaping you. "Well, I don't usually just let anyone see my work, especially strangers."

Spencer's smile was tinged with amusement.

"Considering I'm the subject, I think I have some claim to it," he joked. "And by the way, I'm Spencer Reid. There, we're practically acquaintances now."

You couldn't contain the goofy grin that spread across your face, and a giggle bubbled up from your throat.

"Well, since you put it that way, I suppose I can make an exception," you said, drawing out the last word with a wink.

The portrait made Spencer do a double-take--it was him, but as if seen through a gothic, moody lens. His usual composure cracked, and a deep, genuine laugh broke through. 

"I never knew I had such a brooding side," he commented with a smile. "I look like I stepped out of a Brontë novel. Perhaps Heathcliff on one of his better days?"

Your head cocked to the side, hair cascading over one shoulder, looking at him through lashes heavy with mascara as you shrugged.

"Heathcliff, huh? I'll take your word for it, but I get the brooding part," you said, with a bubbly laugh. "Come on, it's so you."

Spencer fiddled with his tie, raising a brow.

"I'm not sure if I should be flattered or concerned," he said, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards as he felt a pleasant heat rise to his cheeks.

You squinted sightly, pretending to mull it over.

"Flattered, for sure," you said. "Broody types are just secretly plotting world domination, right?"

He grinned. "Well, maybe not world domination, but certainly plotting something."

Your voice was light, but your question was pointed. "So, what are you plotting, Spencer? Should I be worried?"

He tried to remember what Morgan had taught him.

"Absolutely. But some things are worth the wait--patience, you'll see, can be quite rewarding."

And with a promise like that, you found yourself more than willing to wait. 

taglist: @hotchhner @khxna

[jaskierswolf]

It is not Jaskier dragging new pets home, despite popular belief. The white haired boyfriend, however, might have a bit of a hero complex.... (hehehe)

The Menagerie

Ship: Geraskier Rating: T Summary: In which Geralt adopts far too many animals, but Jaskier still loves him.

On AO3 _

Normally when new people met Geralt and Jaskier they made assumptions. Geralt liked to brood, well, no... more actually he was just painfully shy with low self-esteem despite looking like a god. Unfortunately, he also had possibly the worst case of resting bitch face that Jaskier had ever seen, and had never quite grown out of his goth stage. In contrast, Jaskier's emo phase had lasted all but a month back when he was fifteen and he'd quickly swapped the black hair and leather wristbands for floral shirts and as many rings as he could possibly fit on his fingers. He had, however, kept the eyeliner. It looked good on him. These days he just preferred a slightly lighter look instead of the thick black rings around his eyes. 

The point was when people entered their house and were greeted by no less than three dogs bounding into their laps, swiftly followed by a cat on their lap as soon as they sat down, they assumed that Jaskier was the cause. 

In reality, Jaskier was a little hopeless with living things. He could barely keep himself alive, and he'd never managed to look after even the simplest of plants.... let alone a whole menagerie of pets. Jaskier's forte... pun intended... was music. Where Geralt collected animals, Jaskier collected instruments. Between the two of them, their house was a mess and savings were none existent. All of Jaskier's royalties went on their hoards. 

It made for an interesting interview around his house. The door had opened, revealing the camera man as Jaskier had known it would, and the questions began. The interviewer was baffled. Due to Jaskier's success, he was sure that expectations of their house would be very different. Clean for one. And probably minimalistic, only filled with his awards and fine art beyond the bare essentials. What they had found instead was a mess of fur, cat litter and sheet music. It looked not unlike student accommodation from Oxenfurt, only much larger and way more pets. 

Jaskier couldn't complain. It was home.

Actually, no. Scrap that. He could absolutely fucking complain. 

His shoe landed in a pile of cat sick and he hopped from the living room straight into a pile of litter that had been kicked from the tray. 

"Geralt!!" He yelled up the stairs to where his husband was no doubt lurking in the office. "One of the cats has been sick!" 

"Clean it up then!" Geralt called back. 

Urgh. Yes. Definitely complaining.

It didn't take long to deal with the sick, but Jaskier ended up in a bit of a cleaning spree. After the mess was dealt with, he remembered the litter, and whilst cleaning up the litter he noticed just how much dog hair was lying around and sticking to his socks. Then the vacuum bag needed emptying and the bins had to be taken out, and three hours later, Jaskier collapsed on the sofa. 

The living room was looking spotless, or as spotless as it could be with a veritable zoo living under their roof. He was just about to pull out his laptop to check his social media, when Pegasus, the fat white fluff ball that Geralt had rescued last summer, flopped onto his lap, meowing loudly. 

Jaskier sighed. "I suppose you want feeding. You know you're on a diet, yes? The vet was very firm about that." In response, Pegasus just meowed again, widening his big blue eyes. 

Urgh. Jaskier hated animals. They were so needy. 

"Fine," he grumbled. "Come on then, shit legs."

The fluff ball was pulled into his arms and Jaskier trudged into the kitchen. Before he could blink, he was surrounded by dogs and cats... even Lark the Cockatoo had landed on his shoulder. 

"Oh for mother of-" he groaned, staring up at the ceiling as if that might help. "GERALT!!"

"Yes, dear?" His husband said from the doorway. Roach, a great mutt of a dog, was by his side, wagging her tail happily as Geralt scratched behind her ears. 

"Help?" Jaskier whined, pouting at his husband. 

Chuckling, Geralt crossed the room and pulled Pegasus from Jaskier's arms. He pressed a kiss to Jaskier's temple and then shooed him from the room. "I've got this. Go sit down."  He paused. "Thanks for tidying up." 

"No problem, my love," Jaskier replied, relieved that his pet sitting duties were over for now. He winked at his husband and blew a kiss. "Join me once you're done with the hoard?"

But Geralt wasn't listening. He was too busy cooing over the animals, already telling them stories from the actual zoo where he worked part-time. There was a big smile on his face and Jaskier melted. That was, after all, the whole reason they had so many pets. It was worth it just to see Geralt smile like that. Like there wasn't a care in the world. When they'd married, Jaskier had vowed to do anything to make his husband happy, and if it took running a rescue centre for neglected and forgotten animals to do that... then so be it.

[magnusbae]

@tharkuun:

#in retrospect the prolonged eye contact is a bit of a give away

@starklystar​:

#do you know how well this FITS #comedy being a way to tell stories too #and it being a catharsis in a lot of ways #and it being a way to understand life #and to love it again for all its crazy ridiculousness #and hob's humor which would be all kinds of dark and dry and witty #would be the kind of reminder #to smile #that dream would understand #that dream would enjoy #also hob jokes about 'so i had this dream last night' #and dream would absolutely have a crisis over the way #hob says his name aksdksdk

It’s intended as human au, however can also be seen as modern canon UA.

▾▾▾

The first time Dream had visited this particular bar, it was by chance.

He remembers how he felt that day, he also remembers how much of that lifted off of his shoulders once he had the presence of mind to focus on the annoying commotion that was ongoing for the past half hour in the bar he had settled in.

He snorted, startled by the dry, witty humor delivered with such an easy smile. He watched the rest of the, it seems, Stand Up show until the end of it.

And he came nearly weekly since. 

It lifts his spirits in ways he wishes not to disclose to anyone but himself.

On occasion, when he comes and there’s no familliar laughter in the space of the old bar, he’d feel a disappointment so heavy it colors his entire day black. Other times, well. Other times he’s smiling more than he had in a month and feeling light in the chest on his way home.

At times, Dream could swear that he— Hob, his name is Hob— is looking right at him as he makes another amused, self deprecating joke about his unrequited crush shenanigans. That, that was going on for a while now. Dream took note.

What a fool, Dream thinks. Of Hob, or perhaps, of this mysterious crush of his that had taken more and more time of each show Hob holds. Wouldn’t it be more reasonable to approach them and get this over with? Or Perhaps... 

Dream stops himself, there is no reason for him to speculate on the nature of said crush, that could, in truth be simply a made up persona for the show.

Besides the point, he had never spoken with the man, therefore, there is no reason for him to...

“And really,” Hob’s voice breaks Dream’s increasingly brooding thoughts “how is one to approach their beautiful mysterious crush—who’s name, mind you, they don’t even know?” and then, Hob looks straight up, right at Dream.

“I’m supposed to what?” Hob asks, good spirited as ever “Just look at them and say ‘You’re Tall, Goth and Pretty—and I’m a Hob’?” Hob grins then, disarmingly “Please, oh please, let me take you out for a drink? Or a coffee? I’m not picky, really.” he’s grinning wider as he speaks, eyebrows raising in a question, keeping the eye contact long enough to.... pass the point. 

Hob turns then, back to the rest of his crowd, laughing with them about his ‘Hob-ness’ and his standing chances with such and that Goth royalty. 

And Dream? Dream has to look down, as to not show the faint hint of flush on his cheeks. It seems, well, it seems that he was the crush, all along. 

Comedian!Hob au Hob is like the only person on earth that actually makes Dream chuckle. It becomes a personal challenge for Hob to ALWAYS make that gloomy looking Goth guy in the back amused. His personal goal? Get him to, honest to god, laugh out loud. They both are a little obsessed with each other without ever speaking once. Hob's material starts including more and more "So my crush and I" and references to "Tall, Goth and Pretty" and he wonders how much he could sneak before it becomes abundantly obvious that yes, yes I'm talking to you mysterious bane of my existence in the back.

[alexmercer2424]

I was wondering how the Doctor from DBD would react to a (mostly) goth artist? Like she finds his experiments to be inspiring and pretty much gave up on winning trials and such, and decides to feed into her darker side, so she just let's whatever happens to her, happen? (Wicked artist cliche but ya know...)

I finished my first official week of my fourth year in uni after a weird half week which was after moving in which was after shopping for said room which was after finishing and leaving my job. Lol long story short it’s been a wild time for me! But hopefully we get back into the groove of things

DBD Doctor Reacting to F!Goth Artist

When the Doctor first saw you get introduced with the new killer (whomever that may be…) he thought you were rather weird and sorta annoying

Being a man science and also kinda a jerk (I mean he does kill people and experiment on them for fun) he thought another artist was just obnoxious

All the musicians, the reporters, and hell even he’s stuck with the Legion (Frank mainly) and that’s also annoying

If anything you sorta reminded him of Frank, all dark and brooding, god it was annoying!

After all he was annoying, just some brat who thought he was all cool because he scratched his mask

It wasn’t until his first actual trial with you did his annoyance become confusion

After all his whole thing is electrocuting people and when he caught you and another survivor working on a generator he expected both of you to run

His electrocution had range and as he attacked your teammate, you just stood by and watched

At first he thought it was great, which pleased him, but he quickly learned that wasn’t the case

Because a few trials later with you, and seeing as you had a bad habit of following him now, his annoyance returned for a new reason

He was supposed to be monstrous and intimidating! Why weren’t you running?!

It wasn’t until he sacrifice the other three survivors and leaving you left did he confront you

That is… after chasing you for awhile he was annoyed after all

And when he confronted you you just smiled up at him

He was like a good two feet taller than you and here you were smiling up at him

He was about to smack you, plan of confrontation out the window at that stupid smile, but you handed him a piece of paper

It confused him no doubt, giving yourself enough time to escape because he was used to survivors dropping items not handing them over

Especially not paper

Especially not a drawing

He stared at it as the Entity scooped him up to the path back to the idle, staring in wonder at all the careful lines of detail in the drawing

It was abstract as he had no real idea what was happening in the picture, but he understood the gist of it all

Or the subject of it at least

With lines of blue, hints of white, shadowed in black was what looked like lightning

Again, he had no idea what it meant but your stalking behaviors finally made sense

Did you find him pretty? Did you find what he did pretty?

He could be seeing blood and torture in the picture as there was hints of red, but that could’ve easily been his imagination

After all he’s a killer not an artist, he doesn’t understand this whole what he thought was nonsense

But he had to admit he enjoyed your drawing

Or perhaps, he enjoyed your fascination with him

Whatever the case he would make sure to give you a spectacular show the next time you were paired together in a trial

And maybe, just maybe, he’d invite you over

Show you his experiments up close and personal

[slashershenanigans]

personal slasher headcanons

some of these are very silly be warned >:))  (tw for mention of ptsd for chop top and bugs for Nubbins)

Herbert West: identifies as agender! uses both he/him and they/them. i also kinda have a feeling he’s Demisexual or ace in some respect just due to how he behaves around other people. he probably has mixed and matched parts into a small pet for himself like he has done before but will probably be less careless on keeping it alive this time (rip finger pet)

Michael Myers(OG): (dont rlly write for him but these made me smile when i thought about it so fuck it) likes to seem all big and tough in a stereotypical sense (can we say toxic masculinity), but he does take some personal time alone to express himself. Not exactly visually in appearance but more of comforting possessions. he thoroughly enjoys it even if he wants to be moody and act like he hates it(because ah yes the big brooding murder man cant enjoy anything). he also has a small fuzzy journal with a pink feathered pen to write his victims names in.

Chop Top Sawyer: this fucking gremlin where do i start? he most definitely just eats shit out of its packaging when no one is looking. hell, sometimes he does it right in front of drayton to piss him off for funsies. i also feel like with his newly gathered PTSD he wanted to give himself some comfort; so with his excellent diy skills he managed to upcycle a fully tiedyed denim rat plush he made himself! their name is freddie. also i feel like along with bubba he is a bit gender non conforming himself, so he likes to dress in long bohemian dresses and floral embroidered vests occasionally just to keep people on their toes; we all know he likes to be a surprise. plus, he likes feeling pretty too!

Bubba Sawyer: while he hates being surprised by them, he doesnt mind being around loud noises (i mean he uses his chainsaw alot and we cant forget the twins) so i feel like in his free time he would enjoy drumming! gives him something to do with his hands, sounds cool and can get his energy out which  probably would calm him. the chicken he has in the first film? her name is Henrietta and they have sweet tea together in that room at 3pm Wednesdays, sharp. 

Nubbins Sawyer: i feel like Nubbins was a kid who would trap little caterpillars and beetles in jars and keep them as a ‘pet for the day’ before letting them go the next day..except for days where he forgot or became sadistically curious how long they last without their legs. i feel like he’s a movie type of guy; while he has harsh opinions on them he wont go out of his way to berate them...at least, not in a coherent sense. if a movie he sees as bad is on, it usually ends up with him cursing on about it and how the lighting wasn’t good enough to see the gore or how the characters ‘don’t scream like they’re supposed to’.

Vincent Sinclair:most definitely likes trad goth and metal music; i think he’d be a fan of the bands witching hour, type o negative and probably slipknot if in the right mood for it. is the type to keep dead plants around; like wilted bouquets still sitting in dry vases because he thinks appreciating something even when dead is important i mean,,,just look at what him and Bo do to the town after all.

Bo Sinclair: most likely got in alot of fights in highschool due to just his own personal anger issues and just plain enjoying stirring stuff up for funsies. has indeed sold oregano in a lunch bag and said it was weed to get 20$. 

[jupitermelichios]

So I decided to try watching Riverdale, and I have... thoughts. And also the words ‘holy homoeroticism batman’ written several times in increasingly large letters.

I started on season 2, because everything i read suggested that was when the show went off the rails, and i am here exclusively for the batshit weirdness. but it’s fine, because the show decided to fill me in on what i missed during the two consecutive 'previously on' sequences. was one not enough? was there an ad break between them? did they think people would forget what show they were watching if there wasn’t a little break and a logo splash halfway through?

we open on archie rushing his dad into the worlds most empty emergency room. there’s no one, no patients, no doctors, not even a receptionist, just a big empty room, right until the extras smell the blood of a protagonist and all converge. i assume they’re just desperate for something to do, working in the world’s least used hospital.

does snake pliskin exist in this universe? betty makes a reference that doesn’t really make any sense otherwise and given what i know about where the show goes eventually, it feels like a very real possibility. is this the escape from new york universe?

jingle jangle. they called the drug jingle jangle. honestly no criticism, amazing job everyone on the writing team, keep it up!

“dropping vintage bon-mot like vintage bon-bons” is a hell of a line that only works if you have no idea how bon-mot is said (and no idea what one does with a bon-bon. why are you dropping your candy on the floor veronica). fortunately neither the writers or the actress delivering it do, so it’s fine.

getting into the shower with someone without asking is a risky proposition. You have to be really sure they want it. there’s normal ‘i thought you were into it but you’re not’ awkwardness, and then there’s ‘i thought you were into it but you’re not and also i’m standing here wet and naked now’ awkwardness.

how many gangs are opperating in riverdale? I count three so far. riverdale is not that big, is it?

Actually for real, how big is riverdale? I have absolutely no idea. it’s a local small town with exactly one place to eat but it supports two highschools and three gangs. do we know where riverdale is, and is it anywhere near smallville?

cheryl sure knows how to dress for maximum drama. in general i’m basically neutral on the costumes, but everything cheryl has worn has been a Look and i am here for it. sexy runway victorian ghost aesthetic, yes, amazing, no criticisms.

define hood, because i’m not sure you know what it means. that’s a mask. i get that the comics character is called the black hood, but the costume team could have put him in a hood, why was their solution ‘ski mask but no one in town will admit it’s a ski mask’

half the high school is in this fucking hospital to support archie’s dad, good thing there’s zero other patients or staff or it would be getting crazy crowded

what riots, pop? you can’t just drop in ‘someone threw a brick through our window during the riots’ with no further explanation. what fucking riots?!

wise old spiritual black man, but he's just some dude is a take honestly. does he have some kind of special knowledge or divine connection? nope, he’s just a dude who likes being extremely cryptic in service of absolutely nothing

is cheryl magic? does she think she's magic? what does she think the kiss of life is?  i was under the impression that magic wasn’t going to be real in this show for another season or two, but cheryl apparently does not agree!

the problem with every actor playing a kid in this show being in their mid twenties (insert KennieJD ‘brooding hot 25 year old teenager’ jingle) is that then they show a music teacher kissing a student and i have absolutely no context for how creepy it’s supposed to be. like, she’s twenty, he’s twenty, we’re not in a school setting, I have no idea how i’m supposed to be reacting. he might be an adult who’s decided to take up piano, or she might be a straight up paedophile, and i have literally no idea which. am i supposed to be sad she’s dead?

headmaster is weirdly supportive of his students becoming armed vigilantes. i feel like every teacher i’ve ever had would have had more questions than that.

as the grandchild of a silversmith, i have to say, veronica polishing the silver cutlery as one of her chores is a weirdly believable detail for a show this unhinged. that was one of my chores as a teenager, and still is when i stay with my mum for more than a couple of days. pros of your grandad knowing how to silver-plate: pretty. cons: absolutely everything that stood still long enough eventually got silver plated and it all needs polishing.

Love that everyone still has archie comics names. the mob lawyer is called penny peabody. amazing.

maybe it's the fact that i'm in my 30s but archie's dad is the only attractive person on this show

ebony dark'ness dementia raven way would be very disappointed by how milktoast the goths in this show are. try harder, CW wardrobe department.

oh man, the lighting team absolutely went off for this show, and i kind of love that it's in service of absolutely nothing

holy homoeroticism batman

i’m in this weird place where objectively bonkers things have happened, but not as much or in the way that i want them to, and i can’t decide if it’s worth sticking with it to get to the later more bonkers seasons.

on an unrelated note though, this is the creative team i would choose for a nailbiter adaptation. the weird lighting and colour pallettes, the time displaced americana vibe, honestly even some of the writing, exactly what i would want from a nailbiter tv show.

[wienerbarnes]

On My Mind

Pairing: Bucky x Reader (Cheek to Cheek)

Word Count: 1,490

Warnings: fluffy first date vibes, mentions about pregnancy and infertility, overall not angsty tho

A/N: sorry for the long wait yall! ive been super slumped with class and other organizations im apart of and work and yea :) thank yall for understanding<3

MAIN MASTERLIST | CHEEK TO CHEEK MASTERLIST

A metal finger pokes your side as you re rack the weights you’ve used during your workout in the gym. You look at Bucky through the window in front of you as he’s seemingly finished his own workout as well. The two of you don’t work out together, his routine that’s fit, for, well, a super soldier, is much too much for you, but you still arrive together and leave together.

“I have a surprise for you.” Bucky says, as he begins to walk backwards, encouraging you to walk with him.

“What’s that?” You ask as you approach the doors of the gym, exiting out into the hallway.

“I’m taking you out tonight.”

You giggle. Because the thought sounds hilarious. Until you realize he’s not laughing with you. “What are you talking about, Bucky?” You ask, smile dropping into a serious frown.

“It’s been over a year and a half since you’ve been here; over a year and a half since you’ve died. I think it’s time.” He tells you.

“Bucky, I don’t know. Don’t people follow you around? Take pictures? I can’t have my picture taken.” You tell him. The only person you really let take your picture is Bucky. You haven’t seen all of them, but you know he’s got hundreds of random pictures of your face in his camera roll. Some of them include him, some of them don’t, some are of you asleep, some are of you cooking, some are of you naked. Besides the point.

“Trust me. I’ve got the perfect spot. Dress cute for me tonight, yeah? You always do.”

…

It takes what feels like hours for you to decide what to wear. What does cute mean? Fancy? Casual? Business casual? Should you wear colors? Bucky wouldn’t take you somewhere where you can’t wear colors.

You decide on a dark green midi dress, small yellow and burgundy flowers covering the dress in a pattern. The thin straps sit on your shoulders and your tattooed leg slips through the slit on the side as you slip on a pair of brown platforms. Atop you slip on what’s probably the only black piece of clothing you own besides what’s been given to you here at the tower; a black denim jacket, one that Bucky got for you because you gave him that bright orange top that one time and it was time you have something of his style.

You almost regret shaving your head realizing as you look in the mirror just how much attention is now brought to yourself. As if dating Bucky Barnes wasn’t enough.

Sooner than you’d hoped, there’s a knock on your door and Bucky’s arrived, a casual dark button down shirt tucked into black slacks, leather shoes on his feet and he looks delicious. A mix of the young man from the 40’s and the modern soldier of today. The brooding, intimidating man wearing slightly high waisted slacks that are only missing a pair of suspenders. Goth and gentlemanly all the same.

You don’t miss the large bouquet of flowers in his hands, flowers of every shape and color and you gasp in surprise. “Did you think I wouldn’t bring my date flowers on our first date? You look beautiful. As always. Are you just about ready?” He tells you confidently, suaveness dripping from his voice as he looks at you lovingly. He can tell you’re nervous by the way your clammy hands take the flowers and you frantically look for a vase to put them in. But he’s not nervous. He actually doesn’t think he’s been this excited to take a girl out, ever. Maybe it’s been a while, but he thinks it has more to do with the fact that it’s you he’s going out with.

The drive to the small restaurant isn’t long, and on the way Bucky explains to you the small Italian place he grew to love as a teenager, the restaurant now run by the grandchildren of the original owners.

Upon entering the restaurant, smells of garlic and basil flood your nostrils and look around to see the place… empty. There’s only one other small family in the corner of the room, a younger couple with a child that couldn’t be older than five or six.

A teenage waitress leads the two of you to a table far enough away from the other family for some privacy and you have to ask Bucky if this place is actually as good as he says it is.

He laughs, “The place is just more popular for takeout, is all. Trust me, baby.” You can’t argue after being called the sweet pet name as you take your eyes off your boyfriend to skim down the menu.

Soon enough orders are placed and the two of you enjoy a comfortable silence, munching on the bread that was brought to the table. A loud, joyful giggle draws your eyes to the other family in the room, parents looking lovingly at their child as they seemingly recount some story of their day.

Multiple thoughts run through your head watching the little girl, her smooth skin, thick hair put up in tiny pigtails, her body covered in a pair of pink overalls and a glittery top underneath. Something your kid would be dressed in. Your kid.

Bucky’s words interrupt your thoughts but not your stare, “Do you ever think about it?”

“Think about what?” You reply, watching the girl rip at the bread in her small hands, sticking pieces of the soft middle bit in her mouth as she continues talking.

“Having a kid.”

You pause before answering truthfully, “Never. Until right now.”

“Never? At all?”

You finally pull away your stare before you’re caught, “Well, no one really thinks about kids when they're a teenager. And even then, I was poor growing up, so all I saw when thinking about a baby is how much I couldn’t afford one. And then when I joined the Marines, I figured… I’d die. Die with some honor for some stupid cause and that’d be it. And then in Hydra, well, I really thought I’d die there. And then when I got out… I suppose I never thought that I actually do have the chance now. I mean I have the safety of the tower, I have a full fridge at all times, access to medical care…” You trail off.

“I shouldn’t get ahead of myself; I’m not even sure I can have kids what with all that Hydra did to me - all the shit they pumped into me.” You pick at a piece of bread in the basket in front of you, not noticing the color drain from Bucky’s face.

You brought up a fear in him he never thought about. Can he have kids? Did the serum affect him in that aspect? If he did get someone pregnant, would the baby survive? With some kind of serum in them from him? He remembers hearing about so many other soldiers being given the serum and dying, not being able to handle the chemical changes. If grown men and healthy soldiers died from it, how could a baby survive?

“Do you?” You break his thoughts.

“Do I, what?” He asks, trying to mask the sudden fear from showing on his face.

“Think about it?”

“Constantly. I have since I was a kid.” He tells you, and your mouth drops in amused shock.

“A kid?!” He’s glad you seem to be past the thought of not being able to have kids because your carefree smile and amusement at the thought of ten year old Bucky taking care of his younger sister and wanting a kid of his own is enough to calm him down.

“I took care of my sister all the time. I think I liked her more than she liked me, I was always trying to drag her to hang out with me, teach her stuff, and she always just wanted to play with her dolls.” He laughs, thinking of all the time his little sister would grow annoyed at all the time he wanted to spend with her.

The smile on your face is bright as you watch him recount his childhood memory, but he sees the slight sadness in your eyes; he knows you were an only child. The food arrives and interrupts him before he can say anything about it, Thank you’s echoing from the couple as two plates of lasagna are placed in front of them.

A few minutes of silence goes by as the two of you begin eating away at the full plate of pasta and meat sauce. “For the record, I think you’d make the most fantastic mother.” Bucky tells you, and you pause the fork in the air and look up at him, not expecting him to tell you that.

“Thanks.” You tell him simply, appreciating the comment more than you think he’ll ever know.

[revchainsaw]

The Crow (1994)

Alright Cult of Cult. Do I really need to introduce this one? Let's get all 90s and gothy and maybe brace ourselves for a bit of cringe, but like in a fun way. It's the Holy Grail of Hot Topic, 1994's the Crow Starring Brandon Lee.

Sermon

Apparently before the auto industry totally crashed Detroit was already a total fucked to death pile of burning shit, or at least that's what the crow would have you believe. Sorry Bruce Campbell, and other people from Detroit, but mostly Bruce Campbell. According to the Crow the city of Detroit is the kind of place where gangs of warlock anarchist arsonists will bomb buildings, and murder and rape whoever they feel like and then walk around bragging about it the next day with absolutely zero consequences. Funny then that if Detroit was so bad they had to go to film this movie in Wilmington North Carolina which is definitely a fucked to death pile of burning shit. I can say that, I'm from there and I got the fuck out. My brother is going to kill me if he ever reads this. (It's okay, these are all jokes people). Did you know they also filmed the Super Mario Bros movie there ... also cuz they needed a really shitty looking distopia. Moving on ...

The ludicrous criminality of the Crow's Detroit is particularly on display on Halloween. In Detroit (apparently) Halloween is known as Devils Night and it's legitimately just a night of pure lawlessness and chaos and kids aren't even safe to get candy, except later when we do see trick or treaters. Eric Draven, hunky goth rocker who sort of looks like he could be Bruce Lee's Kid and his fiance are murdered by a gang of vicious criminals. One year hence, Eric is resurrected by a mystical crow (that is actually a Raven), to exact his revenge on the gang that murdered him.

He paints his face like sad Alice Cooper and refuses to listen to Joy Division, just covers. He murders Tin Tin (a knife guy) just for his long gothy duster, he murders Fun Boy and forcibly ejects heroine from her arms and tells her "Go be a good mom now" which actually works. (have I told you about our Lord and Savior Sting? He gave me the strength to get off drugs), he blows T Bird up dick first, and then comes for Skab? Scraap? Scooby? in a meeting of all of Detroits villains and just about kills them all.

He is supported by the most 90s little girl to have ever graced the screen, and I am here for it, and Officer Albrecht, who's played by Ernie Hudson but I like to call him Zeddemore: The Most Underrated Ghostbuster. The leader of the bad guys, who I cannot beleive wasn't played by Brad Dourif or Tom Waits, is pretty interested in the occult. He keeps his witchy girlfriend around and she makes him fun dishes like smoked eyeballs, and her main use is that she knows that the Crow is the Crows weakness. They set Tony Fucking Todd on the bird, and I guess you just have to hurt the bird and not kill it, and Eric loses his healing factor and other macabre undead powers.

The Crow, Jimmy the Raven, pecks out Dr. Girlfriends eyeballs, I honestly forget how Tony Todd gets offed, and Top Dollar gets Gargoyled (that is impaled on a gargoyle). Funnily enough that is more Gargoyle related impaling on screen then in the actual movie Gargoyle: Wings of Darkness where a Gargoyle is supposed to have impaled a guy.

The Benediction

Best Feature: Injustice League

In the Crow we have not only a set of super memorable villains but they are played by the bad guy all stars. John Polito as the most lowly of the bad guys as a kind of sleazy pawn shop owner who buys ill gotten gains. Tony Todd, who's size is really on display here, the freaking Candy Man is in this movie. T Bird is the head of Top Dollars goons and is played by David Patrick Kelly, you might know as the "Warriors Come Out and Play!!" bottle guy from the Warriors, or as Jimmy Horne from Twin Peaks, and of course Top Dollar himself is played by Michael Wincott. Wincott is not a particularly celebrated actor but has played villains effectively in Robin Hood, the Three Musketeers, and Dead Man.

Best Set Piece: Detroit Style Hot Dogs

The Set design of the Crow is perhaps one of it's most fantastic features. It's very moody and ethereal. It's just real enough to not take you out of the film, but fantastic enough to set mood and theme above realism. From Eric Draven's apartment, to the church where the final battle occurs they are all fantastic. I think that's why I really wanted to shine the spot light on a very minor set piece that would get nary a mention but just as effectively represents the qualities I was just talking about and that is the Maxi Doggs Hot Dog Stand, where a lot of the films exposition for audience surrogates takes place.

Worst Effect: Freeze Frame

At a few points in the movie the film makers made a strange decision to do these freeze frame transitions. I only noticed it twice in the movie where it was particularly stupid. I'm sure the film makers at the time thought it was a moody and atmospheric choice that highlighted the suffering that Eric Draven was going through, but it didn't age well. If you don't have the sensibilities of a goth girl from 1994 then it's very very hard not to laugh at just how self involved the movie is about it's super sadness.

Worst Feature: Tragic Accident

Solely based on the film itself, it is that very gothic and dated sensibility that hurts the Crow. The little sarcastic dance he does when he flees the police, quoting Edgar Allen Poe, and bowing to Albrecht. These affected behaviors that I'm sure seemed snarky and right on to the target audience only serve to make Eric Draven seem like an unbearable neck beard edgelord and not the troubled dark soul he's supposed to be. I'm sure at the time it seemed unique and gothy but that shit went out of style for good reason, people could see through it. It's a shame that the Crow himself was some of the cringiest parts of this movie now that I'm seeing it as an adult and not a 13 year old middle class boy with no real problems.

This however is not the low point of the movie. It's not news now and if you're reading some dudes review of The Crow on Tumblr then you probably already know the story. The worst thing about The Crow is that Brandon Lee was horrifically killed on set while filming this movie due to some negligible prop malfunctions. A series of unfortunate events that lead to the actor spending 6 hours in surgery fighting for his life before eventually passing. It was not a quick or painless death and it's really impossible to watch the movie without an appreciation for the fact that this kind of fun dark adventure was going to be a vehicle for Brandon Lee's career wound up taking his life. He was 28. I really wish I could have just bitched about the goofy goth stuff and moved on, but that's not the world we live in.

Best Effect: The Gargoyling

Maybe I should have called this best kill. But I'm not sure which it is. The slaying of Top Dollar at the Climax of the film was just super effective. The pointed wings impaling his chest and that horn coming out of his mouth, it was morbid and excellent and just fit the tone of the movie perfectly. I mean how many other movies can you say Cause of Death: Impaled on a Gargoyle.

Best Bird: The Raven

I tried very hard to look up the name of the bird that primarily performed in this movie and could not find anything. There was a Raven once upon a time called Jimmy the Raven, but that was in the 50s and I don't think birds live that long. There was a team of Ravens performing as the crow, they were chosen over crows for their larger size, and more imposing silhouettes. I just think it's so wonderful to see these often maligned birds get a chance to show off their talents. Corvids of all kinds are incredibly intelligent creatures. Im a sucker for animals, if you haven't already figured that out. I really liked seeing the ravens hit their marks, particularly the one whos job it was to drop the wedding ring into Sarah's hand at the end of the film. You can see that greedy little bastard do his trick and then look of camera at his trainer like "treat please!". It's very cute.

Best Actor: Top Dollar Performance

I'd love to take this opportunity to just put praise upon Brandon Lee, he truly gave everything for this role, but unfortunately with what was put to film we actually have very few character moments with Eric Draven. Stuff happens to him, and he does killings and fights. There's definitely some personality, but I felt like I walked away knowing almost nothing about who Eric Draven was. He was clearly a good dude but that and a few hobbies and a relationship and you don't really have a character yet. He's unfortunately not given a lot of acting to do, instead just relegated to stunts and action sequences. That were notably cool.

The bad guys in the Crow have a lot more character and among this who's who of character actors, Michael Wincott takes the cake. Hell he was standing next to Candyman himself, Tony Todd and still stealing the scenes.

Best Character: A Few Good Apples

Is the best character in The Crow really going to be the cop? The commissioner Gordon stand in? yeah, it is. Not to be political, but I don't like cops, but I guess in a world with magical birds and eyeball smoking I can suspend my disbelief and let Ernie Hudson be #1 cop dad. His character is really the heart of the film, since all Eric can do is brood and fight, we have to care about someone in this movie.

Best Sequence: Halloween Party

The best sequence of the movie is of course the scene where Eric Draven busts in on the Devil's Night party planning commission. I think Top Dollar brought Scrappy Doo there just so he could lure out the crow, knowing the baddest assholes in all of Detroit would be gathered it was likely that somebody was going to kill the beast, or if they couldn't at least Top Dollar could get a feel for his enemy. It's a bullet flying action sequence with a ton of weight. I can't put my finger on this all to common weightless third act problem that big budget super hero and action flicks have nowadays, but whatever that issue is, the Crow does not have that issue. From this point on the Climax feels earned and I am invested. For that reason, The Crow is honestly better in spite of its awkwardness, than many of the super hero movies out today.

Worst Sequence: My Guitar Gently Weeps

Speaking of brooding or fighting. The best sequence was fighting, the worst is brooding. I get that Eric was in a band or something, but didn't he have shit to do. It seemed like it was a cool idea for a shot, but for like a whole seen, watching somebody play an 80s guitar solo, that stood out so brazenly from the choices of music in the rest of the movie was extra corny. It felt like someone's( dad trying to relate to their kid. Oh you like Music. The Dresden Dolls eh? Oh man, then you're going to love Slash's Snake Pit!

Summary

The Crow is dated. It is iconic but I wonder how many of the people that hang that poster on the wall have watched that movie since they were kids. It's interesting how what i've liked and disliked about this film have changed so much sense I was a kid. It's a cheeseball fiesta. If you have matured at all beyond thinking that being sad is the same as being deep then you're going to like it a little less than you did when you were younger, but it is still solid. There's not much to hate on. I'd watch it over and over again. I was really afraid it would not hold up at all, but returning to The Crow was a completely positive experience.

Overall Grade: B

[mischiefandspirits]

Family Weekend

The Teen Titans headed out for a weekend with their families. Wonder Girl was running a mission with her Amazon sisters. Impulse had planned out some fun with her parents and twin brother. Virus left for their homeworld. Nightstar spent time with her mothers.

Robin, having left Gotham over a year earlier and not looked back, assumed he'd spend the weekend alone in Titans Tower. Then Red X broke in.

Part of Batkid and Robin

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Robin stared down at his tea with a frown, tapping his fingers against the mug randomly. A small buzz came near and he sighed. “Don’t try it, Virus.” When the buzz kept coming, he glared behind him at the blue Roomba slowly making its way towards him.

It paused, then sighed. Electric blue energy pulled out of the robot vacuum, leaving the black device to roll off on its own. The energy collected into a blue humanoid form with geometric white patterns across them. The patterns on their face formed into a pout as they leaned against the kitchen counter. “How did Robin know?”

He just smirked and turned away.

“Come on!” the Gexin whined and threw themself over Robin’s lap, making the barstool rock slightly. “Robin has to tell Virus how Robin knew Virus was the tiny floor robot. Please!”

“The thing was blue,” Nightstar called from the couch, not looking up from her book.

“Nightstar and Robin have not seen the tiny floor robot before. The tiny floor robot could have always been blue.”

“There’s also the fact Roombas are banned from the tower,” Robin pointed out, patting Virus’s back. “So it had to be some kind of prank.”

“Speaking of, why is there a Roomba in the tower?” Nightstar asked, looking up with a glare and Virus shifted into their amorphous form to hide behind Robin.

“The tiny floor robot is Impulse’s,” they said quickly. “Virus just borrowed the tiny floor robot.”

“Wow, hey, way to snitch!” Impulse huffed, zipping up next to Robin. “And for your information, it’s not a Roomba. Roomba’s are made by iRobot. Uncle Arsenal made this one. Its name is Voobo.”

Robin gave her a look. “Get rid of it before Wonder Girl gets back or its name will be Crushed.”

“Come on, Rob. Can’t it stay?” she asked, batting her eyes.

He was unmoved. “Remember last time?”

“It was a joke! Come on, no one even got hurt. I thought you’d like it. Having Dags around would have kept us on our toes. You love that ‘Constant vigilance!’ stuff.”

“You took one of Wonder Girl’s daggers,” Nightstar said.

“Well, yeah. I wasn’t going to strap one of our kitchen knives to the thing,” Impulse scoffed. “I cook with those, unlike some people.”

“No Roombas -- or Roomba-like devices -- in the tower,” Robin declared.

Impulse booed him and Virus poked part of themself out from behind him so he could see their face patterns making it appear they were sticking their tongue out.

“Hey, you want it to get crushed, be my guest.”

“Shouldn’t you two be packing?” Nightstar asked.

“Nightstar is one to talk,” Virus huffed.

“All my stuff was packed up last night because I’m capable of thinking ahead.”

“Virus only has a few files that Virus needs to transfer into roving storage,” the Gexin hummed, leaning against Robin’s back. “The transfer will only take a minute or two so the transfer can wait until Virus is about to leave.”

“And I’m a speedster. People would get suspicious if I wasn’t late,” Impulse shrugged and scooped up the knockoff Roomba.

“Well, Flash was supposed to be here ten minutes ago so you should probably get packed,” Robin pointed out.

Her eyes widened and she glanced down at her phone. She gave a curse and darted out of the room.

Virus jumped over the counter and grabbed a banana. As they absorbed it, they asked, “When is Nightstar going to leave?”

She shrugged. “Ommi’s waiting for me at a diner nearby since I was waiting for Flash to get here so we could all say our goodbyes together and she’s still tracking down exactly where Troia, Ilia, and Wonder Girl are. We’re going to go raid whatever mission they’re on before Mom gets back from Tamaran tonight.”

“Okay. Then Virus will go do the transfer so Virus is ready to go as soon as Impulse leaves.”

Nightstar shrugged and went back to her book. Though, as soon as they were gone, she tossed it aside and turned her focus on Robin. “You know, I can cancel. Ommi won’t mind messing with Donna, Cassie, and Yara on her own.”

“Kory will be upset if you miss Family Weekend,” Robin pointed out, turning back to his tea.

“She hasn’t been planetside for two weeks. I’m sure Ommi, Uncle Roy, and Uncle Biz will be happy to keep her distracted. Not like we get up to much even when I am there. I’ll just call her later.”

“There’s no reason for you to stay. Go have fun annoying Yara with Artemis,” he sighed.

“If you’re going to spend the whole time brooding all alone again then there’s plenty of reason to stay.”

“You’re the queen of brooding,” Robin chuckled halfheartedly.

“Which means I know how much brooding alone sucks,” she said, getting up and moving to stand over him. “I’ll stay and we can brood together.”

He sighed again and set the mug on the counter. He met her eyes. “I’m fine, Mandy.”

“Dick -”

“Seriously. I’m just going to catch up on some work. I could use the quiet and you deserve some time with your moms. You said Kory’s been getting better.”

“Fine, but -”

“Yara’s on a mission in the Amazon Basin, Irey’s got all sorts of plans set up with her parents and Jai, and Galvio’s going to be off-world. None of them need to be popping in or coming back early just because you think I can’t be alone for a couple of days.” When she opened her mouth, he added, “And neither do any of the other Titans. They’re all working hard to cover for us so we can have this break and don’t need to add babysitting me on top of that.”

She scowled and sat down on the stool next to his. “It’s not that I think you can’t be alone, it’s just that I think you shouldn’t be alone.”

“Thanks.”

“You know what I meant,” she growled, pushing his chest hard enough to make his barstool tip backward.

He hooked his food around hers and righted the stool before it could fall. “I’ll be alright. A little alone time is good once in a while.”

Impulse ran through the room, stopping only long enough to say, “Dad’s here!” before she was gone again.

Nightstar tisked and stood up. “You’re sure?”

He nodded and she turned away. “Fine, but I’ll have my T-Comm on me if you need anything.”

He didn’t respond.

She grabbed her book as Flash ran in.

“Hey kids,” he said, glancing at the two. “Where are the others?”

“Wonder Girl’s already gone, Virus is preparing to leave, and Impulse is packing,” Robin answered.

“Course she is,” the man chuckled. “I’d say she gets it from me, but Uncle Barry was the exact same way so maybe it’s the Speed Force.”

“I think you guys just like to use that as an excuse to be lazy,” Nightstar said as she left.

“I’m sure Artemis would agree,” Wally chuckled. He turned to Robin and the boy stiffened.

Not visibly enough that Flash would notice, but visible enough that…

Robin turned away to grab his tea.

“So, you heading to Goth-”

“No.”

The man shot over to sit on the stool Nightstar had been using. “One of these days I’m going to get you to tell me how exactly you’re related to the Bats.”

“Good luck with that,” he scoffed. He looked up at the man. “You work with three of them. Four when Flamebird’s having a good day. Why not just ask them?”

Shut up. You don’t care. They don’t care so you don’t care.

Flash snorted. “Right. Like getting info out of a Bat isn’t impossible. If I ask Signal, he just shakes his head and says it’s not his place. Orphan just looks sad when you get brought up and won’t talk for a while. Flamebird won’t talk to me, to begin with, so he’s out. His old man hasn’t been much better since Batkid died -- not that I blame him -- and he only got worse when that new thief showed up in Gotham a few months ago so there’s no chance of him saying anything.”

They don’t care.

“If it’s so impossible, then why do you keep bugging me.”

“Well, you’re not really a Bat, right?”

Robin’s fingers tightened around the mug. “No, I’m not.”

“There you go then.”

He glared down at the tea.

Distract.

“What were you saying about a thief? Catwoman got a rival?”

Flash shrugged. “It’s Gotham stuff so we don’t hear much, but I have heard the new guy’s been giving her a run for her money. It’s not only that though. He’s apparently claimed a chunk of the city as his own and screws with anyone that messes around in his territory without his permission. Especially if they involve kids.”

Robin hummed, not paying attention.

Cass doesn’t care. She’s just sad because I remind her of Jay.

“I think he’s called Red -”

“Daddy!” Impulse shrieked as she came streaking through the room to throw herself at Flash, who was already on his feet with his arms outstretched to catch her and pull her into a hug.

Virus came skipping in after her at a much slower pace, a duffle bag in his arms. Nightstar was a few steps behind wearing her battle armor with a rucksack hanging from one shoulder.

“There’s my light! You ready to go?”

“Yup! Just got to say bye to the others,” she said, squeezing him. She let go and passed the bag Virus was carrying to her father before pulling the Gexin into a hug. “Bye, Vi!”

“Goodbye, Impulse! Tell Turtle Virus says hello.”

“I will. Tell Galv-11 I say hi! Twin solidarity!” She pulled away to hug Nightstar. “Have fun with your moms!”

“Yeah, yeah.” She gave Impulse’s back two pats before pushing her away.

The redhead just smiled at her before throwing herself at Robin, a move that would have knocked him off the stool and spilled his tea if he hadn’t seen it coming and braced himself. “Bye, Rob! See you Monday!”

“See you, Pulse.”

She pressed a quick -- for non-speedsters -- kiss to his cheek before pulling away. She gave the group a wave as she took her dad’s hand then the two were gone.

“Well, I’m off,” Nightstar said, adjusting the pack and glancing at her remaining teammates. Her gaze lingered on Robin. “Unless someone’s changed their mind.”

“Bye, Star,” Robin said pointedly.

She nodded to him, then Virus.

“Goodbye, Nightstar. Virus has completed the transfer so Virus will be leaving too.”

“Bye Virus.

They waved then dove into the phone outlet that connected to the satellites on the roof.

“Don’t cause Yara too much of a hassle. You do have to work together when you both get back.”

“Yeah, yeah. We all know she loves it,” Nightstar said, waving him off as she turned to leave. “Talk to you later, Dick.”

“Later, Mandy.”

He waited a few moments after the door shut behind her before getting up to go to the couch, tea still in hand. He sat down and grabbed the tablet he’d left on the coffee table. A few clicks had the security feeds up. The speedsters were long gone, Virus was just finishing the transfer over to the Justice League’s long-range satellites that would let him system hop back to his homeworld, and Nightstar was making her way out. He watched her progress until she was completely out of range before tossing the tablet to the side and slumping back against the couch.

He took a sip of his tea and scowled. He set it on the table and buried his face into his hands.

Over a year and a half away from Gotham and he still couldn’t figure out how Alfred made a cup of tea taste like anything other than gross leaf water.

He didn’t know why he still bothered. He’d never liked tea all that much, even when Alfred made it.

It was just… stupid Family Weekend. He hated it. Hated being alone. Hated seeing the others all disappear to spend time with their families. All it did was remind him of everything he’d lost.

Everyone he’d lost.

Or never had to begin with.

He wouldn’t begrudge any of his friends their family time, though, and he certainly wasn’t going to make anyone stay behind with him just because he was a little lonely, even if that meant telling Nightstar a few white lies.

He just wished he had somewhere to disappear off to as well.

He forced himself upright and turned on the tv. He tried to lose himself in a horror movie as he fought down memories of Barbara’s hacking lessons, memories of pranks he’d played on the others with Cassandra, memories of patrolling with Damian, memories of Duke helping him with his English homework, memories of early morning coffee and cereal runs with Tim, memories of nail painting gossip sessions with Stephanie, memories of Jay’s… memories of Jason.

He considered checking in with the Titans East, maybe even visiting, but Nightstar definitely would have considered he’d try that and told Speedy to let her know if he contacted them. Considering the friendly rivalry they had going on after defeating the Master of Games, she’d definitely sell him out in a heartbeat.

Patrolling was also out since Irey would still be monitoring the Teen Titans' social media so she’d know instantly if he left the tower, something he wasn’t supposed to do since they were all supposed to take Family Weekend off, even if he stayed in town.

Normally he’d bury himself in work, but he didn’t actually have any open cases right now.

One good thing about Gotham’s crime rate, you never had to worry about not having an open case.

Shut up!

Robin was so distracted trying to distract himself from his intrusive memories, he almost didn’t notice when the air in the room shifted slightly about an hour after Nightstar left. His hand subtly moved to his utility belt, but he let it drop after a second.

He glared to the side as something invisible settled next to him on the couch. “What are you doing here?”

Red X faded into view with a shrug. “The better question is what are you doing here, kid? I was told you lot were clearing out for your little Family Weekend thing.”

“You were told?”

“Alright, so I might have been eavesdropping on Wonder Babe and Zippy.”

“What are you after?” Robin growled. He stood up and drew his staff as he went over everything in the tower and tried to figure out what Red X would consider worth stealing.

“Calm down,” Red X said, leaning back and putting his feet up on the coffee table. “I just ticked someone off and need a place to lie low for a few days. Didn’t plan to take anything.”

“Right,” Robin said sarcastically. “You didn’t plan to take anything.”

Red X chuckled and held up his hands. “Alright, you caught me. Tell you what. You let me stay and I’ll keep my hands to myself from now until Monday.”

“And return what you’ve already grabbed on your way here?”

It was only thanks to his experience with masks that hid the eyes that the hero could tell Red X was rolling his as he pulled a handful of Robin’s feathers and one of his spare expandable bo staffs from the suit’s hidden pockets. He tossed them onto the table, saying, “You really need to learn how to lighten up, kid.”

Robin lowered his weapon, but didn’t put it away. “Who’d you tick off? And how?”

Red X shrugged and relaxed back onto the couch, grabbing the remote. “The old man. One of the others accidentally got hurt during my last score so now the lot of them are out for blood. They found my place in Jump so it was either skip town until I can get a new place or lay low. And I’m pretty sure skipping town is what they want me to do so here I am. Doubt they’ll think to look for me here.”

“Why would they want you to skip town?” Robin asked as he took in the new information. He’d never realized Red X was part of a team. Who was the old man?

“Uh, because then I’ll have to go back home and that’s their turf,” he said slowly, like it was obvious.

“Where are you from?”

Red X paused in his channel surfing and looked up at him. “You don’t know?”

Robin glared at him.

“No, seriously, you don’t know who I am?”

“I thought I made that clear the first time we met.”

“Yeah, the first time, but…” Red X set down the remote and leaned closer. “Kid, when was the last time you talked to your family?”

That was the final straw.

Robin swung his staff at the thief, who flipped out of the way. Through clenched teeth, he said, “I think the fact I’m here during Family Weekend makes it pretty obvious I don’t exactly have a family to talk to.”

Red X struck out with one of his x’s trying to wrench the staff from Robin’s hands. “Shut up, kid. You can play whatever lost bird act you want for the rest of the world, but we both know you’re one of Batman’s toy soldiers.”

The hero snarled and aimed for the thief's head, but he managed to grab it and disarm him before it made contact. “I’m not a Bat just because I trained with them for a time.”

“Sure, kid.”

“I don’t know if you’ve been paying attention, but I’ve been a hero outside of Gotham longer than I was one there.”

“Oh, I noticed,” Red X said lowly, tossing the staff aside. “What that idiot was thinking letting Flamebird send you all the way across the country right after Batkid got blown up, I’ll never know.”

Robin flinched back at the accusation before his fists clenched at his sides. “Then you’ll be happy to know no one sent me here. It’s just where I ended up when Batman decided he didn’t want to work with me anymore and tossed me out.”

Red X froze and the hero could feel the thief studying him. When he spoke, there was something sharp and venomous in his tone. “He kicked you out.”

“He kicked me off the team, yeah,” Robin said. “He didn’t want me on the team anymore so I found a new one. Like I said, I’m not a Bat. Why does this even matter?”

“He kicked you out,” Red X repeated. Then he was turning on his heel and marching out.

“Where are you going?”

“Forget hiding out. I’m going to go kill Batman. A nice x to the grapple line will solve all our problems.”

Before Robin could move, Red X teleported away.

“Great,” he growled, running his hand through his hair. He grabbed his tablet and ran to the door. As he rode the elevator down to the garage, he checked the security, running the cameras through all the frequency settings. All that came up were two blips, Red X’s entrance and exit. 

As he ran up to his R-Cycle, he considered what to do. He couldn’t just do nothing about an honest death threat (and he knew Red X was serious, even he didn’t understand why), but Batman had made it clear he didn’t want Robin getting involved in Gotham. Maybe if he could get to Red X before he left town…

Well, he’d have to hope he could. If not, he’d have to bribe Dove into passing along the message to Oracle or Batgirl the next time she checked in with the Birds of Prey so they could warn Batman. After that, the thief would be completely out of his hands.

He took his R-Cycle out, but only went as far as the nearest highrise before taking to the rooftops. It wasn’t as effective a tactic in the daylight, but it would still limit the amount he was seen so, hopefully, Irey wouldn’t notice he was out.

Unfortunately, there wasn’t much he could do. He’d been trying to locate Red X’s hideout since the thief had appeared, but thanks to the invisibility and teleportation abilities granted by the suit as well as the thief’s own skills and the fact Robin still didn’t know what he looked like under the mask, it was slow going. He’d managed to narrow it down to a certain neighborhood after months of work, but patrolling the area didn’t turn anything up so he couldn’t be sure if Red X was there or if he’d already left.

After two hours with no sign of the thief, he decided to head back in. As he rode back up the elevator, he set up a program to track anyone leaving town for Gotham by train or air and double-checked the algorithm he and Virus had set up to search for Red X on traffic cameras. Neither was likely to turn anything up since Red X was too cautious and Oracle was sure to set up her own once the case was handed over to the Bats, but he had to do something in the meantime.

And if it showed them he knew what he was doing…

Of course, none of that mattered when he walked into the main room of the tower to call Dove and found Red X relaxing on the couch.

“Were you seriously lying about killing Batman?” Robin growled. His anger was less about the thief lying and more because he’d fallen for it, but he was still pretty annoyed all the same.

“Nah. I just realized that you being here also means the others didn’t do anything about the old man kicking you out, and wiping out Gotham’s Bat infestation is going to actually take a bit of planning,” Red X said. That same acidic anger tainted his words, but now it was wrapped in a thin veil of restraint. He could see that same fragilely controlled anger in the thief’s body as he came closer, hidden almost perfectly under his relaxed ruse.

“You really think I’m going to just sit back and let you stay here while you’re plotting murder?” Robin said, stepping in front of the thief and crossing his arms.

“Calm down, kid. I’m not going to do any planning here,” he snorted, tilting his head to see more of the tv around the hero.

“That’s not the point.”

“If you’re worried about being an accomplice, then you’ll be happy to hear you couldn’t stop me if you tried.”

Robin pulled out his staff and Red X went stiff.

“Kid, you do not want to fight me right now. Just sit down and watch the movie.”

“Why?” Robin asked, slipping into a fighting stance. “Why are you even going after the Bats?”

“He kicked you out,” Red X growled, the sound of his control cracking slipping in his voice.

“So?”

Suddenly the thief was on his feet and grabbing the front of Robin’s suit.

The hero tried to strike him with his staff, but he deflected the blow and pulled him in until they were nose-to-helmet.

“He kicked you out! He fucking kicked you out! Not even three months after he put a kid in the ground, you were on the other side of the country fighting aliens! Alone!”

“I was-”

“And where are the others? Have you even talked to them? Have they tried to talk to you? They have to know where you are, even if Oracle wasn’t as semi-omniscient as she is! You and your clubhouse are all over the news! Has she or Orphan reached out? Signal? Batgirl? Hell, Tim might be an ass, but I thought he’d at least check-in to make sure you didn’t get killed.”

Robin’s breath caught in his throat and he choked out, “How -”

“Where the fuck was Damian in all this? Did he seriously not say shit about Bruce tossing his fucking kid out?”

Despite his best efforts, he was shaking. He wasn’t sure if it was because Red X somehow knew who the Bats were or because everything he had been burying and reburying ever since he left Gotham was being unearthed and shoved in his face even worse than it normally was during Family Weekend, but he couldn’t breathe.

“You weren’t even at the funeral!”

Robin flinched so hard he’d jerked himself free off Red X’s grip and toppled backward. He slammed his eyes shut against the sting of tears and ducked his head as he took in ragged breaths.

That was not the Bats’ fault. That was all him, and the guilt would always weigh on him.

He’d been selfish, so lost in his own problems that he’d completely forgotten Jason’s funeral. He only even realized he missed it when he spotted the pictures in the news and read about it in the gossip columns. His absence had been noticed, of course. Bruce and Damian told everyone he was sick since it had been before he’d been gone long enough for them to need the boarding school lie, but some didn’t believe it. Dick had read every horrible word there’d been to read.

He deserved it.

As soon as he’d realized his mistake, he’d bought some flowers and spent hours in the cemetery apologizing over and over again, but he knew it’d never make up for what he’d done.

“Don’t you get it? They already let one kid run off and stupidly get himself killed and then they just -”

Robin was on top of Red X in a second, pinning him against the couch. “Don’t you ever talk about Batkid like that! He… What happened to him… You don’t get to talk about him!”

It was meant to come out a snarl, but the tears he was fighting back rang out clearly.

He expected another quip, or for Red X to at least try to fight, but he just stared up at Robin as he went limp in the pin. “Kid…”

“How do you know who they are?” the hero snapped, wanting to focus on something -- anything -- else.

“I’m so sorry. If I’d known they hadn’t told you…” the thief started softly. “I thought…”

“Thought what?”

They just stared at each other for a moment, then Red X raised his hands.

The hero watched for any signs of an attack, but the thief just brought his hands to the helmet. He hit the release and pulled the helmet off.

Robin’s breath caught in his throat for the second time.

Under the helmet was a domino mask, light grey with black outlining the white lenses. Even still, Robin had seen the boy behind the mask in a domino too many times to not recognize him.

He was older, his hair a bit longer and choppier. He had a few new scars and his hair was a white color in the front that was just a little too bright to be natural. It was him though.

“Jay?”

Jason gave a familiar grin as he let the helmet fall to the floor. “Hey, Dickie.”

Robin threw himself off the older boy, scrambling to his feet and pointing his staff at him. “No. Jason’s gone. Dead. I don’t know who you are or why you look like that, but…” Robin was losing the fight against his tears.

“Red Bird,” Jason said softly. He reached out for Robin and the hero swatted his hand away.

“Don’t! You’re-He’s dead! You can’t be him!” Unless… Jason had to be dead. It couldn’t have been a test.

A test he must have failed. That’s why Bruce…

“No. He has to be dead,” Robin said, shaking his head and taking a step back. “He-You wouldn’t have lied to me about that. Not… Not Jason. He wouldn’t.”

“Oh, Dickie.” Jason came forward, ducking under Robin’s strike to pull him into a hug. “It wasn’t a lie, I promise. I did die. I just… got better.”

“Got better?” Robin sniffed and dropped his arms, not returning the hug or pushing away from it as tears filled his eyes and slipped past the mask. “How do you get better from being dead?”

“Heck if I know,” Jason sighed and eased the mask off Dick’s face. As he gently brushed the tears away, he explained, “I just woke up inside my coffin months later. I didn’t… I wasn’t all there so I ended up just stumbling around Gotham for a few weeks until I got brought to a hospital. The step-mom from hell found me there somehow and stole me away to toss me in one of her stupid green pools.”

“She put you in a Lazarus Pit?” Dick hissed, finally hugging his brother back.

“Yeah. Don’t know if she was trying to hurt Bruce and Damian again by screwing up my head or if she was in one of her Maybe they’ll love me this time! moods and honestly thought it would help. I didn’t stick around to find out, just rampaged through the compound until I was able to escape. I managed to make my way back to Gotham, but…” Jason pressed his face into Dick’s hair and took a deep breath. “I don’t know what I expected when I got back, but… I didn’t expect nothing. Bruce was carrying on as usual. Everyone was. And Joker’s just… back in Arkham, ready to escape another day. I died and the only thing that changed was that Damian shipped you off to play with some other kids in California. Except no, he didn’t. Bruce kicked you out! When Damian died, Bruce nearly killed himself in his search for a way to bring him back, to the point that Duke’s gang had to step in to watch the streets and Tim had to step in to watch Bruce. When I died, nothing.”

“Jay -”

“I know I’m not Cassandra ‘Prodigy’ Wayne or Damian ‘Bloodson’ Wayne or Duke ‘Perfect Child’ Thomas or Tim ‘Teenage CEO’ Drake-Wayne, but I thought he’d at least care that I got killed!” Jason snarled, jerking away from Dick to throw his hands in the air before slamming one onto the coffee table, cracking the wood. “I thought he’d at least give a shit about me!”

“Jason -”

He slammed his hand against the table again, and again. “But he doesn’t! Not enough to actually do something about fucking Joker! Not enough to try and bring me back like he did his flesh and blood! He doesn’t care! None of them fucking care about anything but themselves!”

Dick tried to grab his arm, but Jason threw him off.

He turned to the young boy with a glare. “And then you! They just got rid of you! What? Was Bruce so happy to be rid of me he realized he should have cut off the kid acquisitions with Tim? And everyone just agreed with him!”

“Red Wing, please.”

Jason had been taking a step towards Dick, but at his words he spun away. He slammed both his fists into the table with a snarl and it collapsed. He dropped to his knees, breathing heavily.

Dick watched him for a few minutes. Only when Jason stopped shaking and tugging harshly at his hair did he step closer and sit next to his brother. When he wasn’t rebuffed, he pressed their shoulders together. “The pit?”

“Yeah. Sorry.”

“It’s okay. Damian told me how it affects people. Besides, that table gets destroyed so often we start to get antsy if it lasts more than a week,” Dick chuckled and Jason snorted. He nudged his brother gently. “Is this okay?”

“I’d never hurt you, Red Bird,” Jason declared, though a bit of uncertainty leaked into his voice.

Dick set his head on Jason’s shoulder with a frown. “I know. I was asking if you were okay with me touching you.”

The older brother smiled and wrapped his arm around the younger. “I’m always happy to be your pillow.”

“I’m serious, Jay.”

Jason rolled his eyes. “You’re always serious lately.”

“I still know how to have fun,” Dick said. “You just keep catching me in serious situations.”

Jason gave him a disbelieving expression, but before Dick could comment it shifted into a smile. A familiar smile.

That smile promised a lot of fun, but also explosions and weeks of being grounded. It promised lectures from Bruce to Jason about needing to be a better example and from Tim to Dick about how Jason was a bad influence. It promised exasperated yet fond looks from Cass, Babs, and Damian. If Steph was involved, it promised retaliatory pranks when they placed most of the blame on her. If not, then it promised endless complaining for leaving her out. It promised secret smiles from Duke, either because he hadn’t been involved but still thought it was funny or because he had been involved and was thanking them for not ratting him out.

Altogether, that smile promised the best kind of trouble.

“Jay,” Dick started warningly, but Jason just pulled him to his feet.

“Prove it!”

“What?”

“You think you can still have fun, then prove it!” Jason chuckled, grabbing his helmet and towing Dick out of the room. “Let’s go wreck some stuff!”

“Wh-Jay! We can’t -”

“Calm down, we’ll keep it to the bad guys’ stuff so we don’t hurt your delicate sensibilities.”

Dick glanced down at the X on Jason’s suit. “Speaking of which -”

“Nope. That can wait for after Family Weekend. Right now we’re just Red Bird and Red Wing, not Robin and Red X. We can get back to our little cops and robber game when your friends get back.”

Dick knew he should probably argue. Even ignoring the fact Jason had been discussing murder not even half an hour ago, Red X was still a criminal.

But Red X was also a back-from-the-dead Jason and Robin wasn’t allowed to work during Family Weekend.

“Where are we going?” he asked as they stepped out of the elevator onto the residential floor.

“First stop is your room. I left my stuff there since I knew it would be the last place you’d check. One of us should also probably change if we don’t want to raise questions.”

Dick didn’t bother to ask how Jason knew his way around the tower to the point of knowing where his room was. Clearly, he’d been spying on Dick. It was probably something they’d have to talk about later since Dick knew from experience that his teammates would not appreciate it, but it could wait.

“Well you’ve already stolen my clothes once,” Dick pointed out, tugging at Jason’s cape.

Jason rolled his eyes. “If you didn’t want someone to take the suit you should have locked it away better.”

“I put it in a safe!”

“Not a good one.”

Dick slapped his arm. “You were trained by Selina. Your standards are unreasonable.”

“You say that like she didn’t train you too,” Jason snorted then tugged Dick closer so he could wrap his arm around Dick’s shoulder. “I should probably change though. I don’t know how the family will react if they find out we’re hanging out and I’d rather not risk it ruining our weekend. I can take care of them after.”

“Jas-”

“Yep. Sorry. Work talk later. So, Red Bird, you know of any bad guy bases worth ransacking? Or at least an empty factory we can go to town in? I got some new toys I want to try out.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Impulse was tapping her foot in superspeed as she scrolled through her phone.

“And none of you have talked to him since Friday morning?” Wonder Girl asked and she paced across the living area.

“We texted on Saturday, but it was just a quick check-in. He said he was busy, I needed to stop worrying, and he’d see me today,” Nightstar said, not looking up from her book. She seemed for all the world relaxed, but the others had all noticed she hadn’t turned the page in over a half hour.

“There’s still nothing on social media,” Impulse said, refreshing the page. “I found a few mentions just before lunchtime on Friday of someone on the rooftops that could have been him, but that’s it.”

“The same can be said for the news sites,” Virus said from inside the computer. “Robin has not appeared on any of the news sites since our fight with Mother Mae-Eye last week.”

Wonder Girl tried her T-Communicator again and scowled when it wouldn’t connect to Robin’s. “Are you sure he didn’t head over to one of the others’ bases?”

“I had Speedy and Dove on Robin duty so I know he didn’t hit Titans East or North,” Nightstar said.

“And Aquagirl tells Turtle everything so if he’d shown up at Titans South she would have told him and he would have told me so I would know and I don’t so he didn’t,” Impulse said quickly.

Nightstar looked up from her book and squeezed the younger girl’s shoulder. “Hey, it’s going to be okay. We’ll find him. He probably just took off to do some recon and didn’t tell us because he knew we’d yell at him for not taking the weekend off.”

“He’s going to spend the next week locked in a cell if that’s true,” Wonder Girl huffed. “Then he’ll have no choice but to take a break.”

“Robin would just break out,” Virus argued.

“Maybe I should take a run around the city, just in case,” Impulse said, standing up.

“The tracker on Robin’s R-Cycle showed Robin heading out of the city before the tracker was disabled so Impulse likely would not find Robin by running around the city,” Virus pointed out and the girls turned to his computer.

“You didn’t say anything about him leaving town earlier,” Nightstar said.

“Virus did not think the information was relevant. The information doesn’t help the Teen Titans find Robin since the tracker was disabled before any set destination could be determined.”

“Except we had no idea he’d left town until now! When did this happen?”

“Friday afternoon. Robin le-” Virus cut off as an alert came up. “Oh! Someone just accessed the tunnel leading to the garage.”

“Robin?” Nightstar asked, getting to her feet.

“The people in the tunnel used Robin’s codes, but there are two people and both are on foot. The sensors aren't registering Robin’s gear.”

The girls shared a look and ran for the stars, Nightstar calling over her shoulder, “Meet us down there!”

“On the way!”

Impulse ran down the stairs while Nightstar and Wonder Girl flew down the center. They slipped into the garage to find Virus already waiting. The four took defensive positions behind workbenches and toolboxes just as voices began to reach them.

“You owe me a new R-Cycle. And a new communicator. And -”

Impulse perked up at Robin’s voice, but Nightstar waved her quiet before she could react as a second voice answered, “First of all, how was I supposed to know trying to use your fancy walkie-talkie would break it? Who’s stupid design flaw was that?”

“It’s to prevent it from being stolen and used against the Titans.”

“Okay, that’s actually a good idea, but it’s still not my fault. Second, the paint was your idea! Don’t try blaming that on me.”

“You blew up the crates too soon!”

“No, I didn’t! I told you fifteen minutes!”

“You only gave me fourteen!”

“I gave you fifteen!” the unknown voice yelled as two figures walked into the garage.

The first was obviously Robin, though he was dressed more casually than any of the Titans had ever seen him. Gone was the armored suit, replaced with blue jeans and a red hoodie with a bat insignia over the chest. He still wore his domino mask and steel-toed boots, but the latter was speckled with red paint.

The second boy looked around Nightstar’s age. He was tall and broad, but not bulky. He wore a suit similar to Robin’s, but black and plain. A brown leather jacket was thrown over the top with a red bird patch on the shoulder that matched his red domino mask.

The new boy was scowling at Robin, who was scowling back. Even still, both looked completely relaxed and a smirk was tugging at the new boy’s lips.

“Maybe you need a new watch. Or maybe you just forgot how to count. Did you forget eleven was a thing again?”

The new boy jumped at Robin and instantly the two were brawling, throwing punches left and right and trying to pin each other. The fight was clearly well-practiced, in Wonder Girl’s opinion. Not choreographed or restrained, but instead a flurry of movements that showed how the two knew each other’s fighting style enough to both predict most attacks and roll with those they didn’t. Despite just how rough their roughhousing was, she could see neither was actually trying to hurt the other.

The others didn’t quite catch onto that though as all three darted in to break up the fight. Nightstar grabbed the new boy and pinned him against a workbench while Impulse and Virus placed themselves in front of Robin.

“Woah, what? Titans, stand down. Red Wing, don’t hurt her.”

“Don’t hurt her? I’m the one pinned,” the boy gasped dramatically.

“You’re also the one with the souped-up taser,” Robin deadpanned.

The boy smirked and revealed the device in his hand, which crackled with red lightning. He turned it off and tucked it into his jacket as he winked up at Nightstar. “You know, Princess, if you wanted to get all up close and personal, all you had to do was ask.”

Her eyes glowed purple, but Robin grabbed her arm and pulled her away before she could blast the other boy.

“Don’t flirt with my teammates please,” Robin sighed.

“Not my fault you surround yourself with beautiful girls, Kid,” the boy said as he sat up, winking at Wonder Girl this time.

“Who are you?” she demanded, hand falling to her boleadoras.

“What? Don’t recognize me without the x motif and skull mask? I’m hurt.”

“Red X?” Impulse said, glancing between Robin and the boy.

He gave her finger guns while Robin smacked his forehead.

“What is going on?” Virus asked.

“Well, wouldn’t want to overstay my welcome,” Red X said, stuffing his hand in his pockets. “Family Weekend’s been fun, bro. I’ll let you know when I steal a new cycle for you from the old man so you can tell me if I need to add any bells and whistles. Later.”

“You’re not -” Nightstar started, but cut off as Red X dropped something that caused smoke to flood through the garage. “Impulse!”

“He’s already gone,” Robin sighed.

A moment later the ventilation system kicked in and cleared the air to reveal Robin was right.

The four all turned to him and he pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Sooooooooo… you spent the weekend with Red X?” Impulse asked.

“It’s a long story.”

“Red X called Robin brother?” Virus said.

“A really long story. The short of it is Red’s just been keeping an eye on me, in his own weird way.”

“He stole your suit,” Wonder Girl said and Robin shrugged.

“So are we just supposed to not go after him if he shows up?” Impulse asked.

“No, this doesn’t change anything about how we treat him in the field.”

Impulse opened her mouth, then closed it and shook her head. “Kid Flash is right. You Gothamites are insane when you get together.”

Robin shrugged again. He grabbed the duffle bag he’d dropped when he and Red X had started fighting and turned to the elevator. “I need to make a call then we can check in with the others.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dick stared down at his new T-Communicator. He should just call Dove. It would make things easier.

“Barbara Gordon here,” a voice said as the call on the phone in his other hand connected.

Dick took a deep breath and let it out. “Hey, Babs.”

“... Dick?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh, I-Hey, how -”

“Jason’s going after Bruce.”

“What?”

“He wants to kill him. He wants to kill the whole family, really, but Bruce seems to be his main focus. Damian too, maybe. I don’t know how much trouble he’s been causing so far, but it’s about to get worse.”

“I-You saw Jason?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”

“I’m fine. He didn’t have any reason to do anything.”

“You said he was trying to kill the whole family.”

Dick’s breath caught in his throat and his hand tightened around the phone. “Yeah, well, clearly I’m not part of that.”

“Di-”

“He also might try to steal a motorcycle, but that might have been a joke. You should probably keep an eye out either way,” Dick added then hung up. He turned his phone off when it immediately started ringing. He tossed it into his lockbox and flopped down on his bed, throwing an arm over his eyes.

A few minutes later someone knocked on his door. He shut the lockbox and knocked it back into its hiding spot with his foot before calling for them to come in.

Nightstar slipped in, but just shut the door behind her and leaned against it. She waited a moment before saying, “X isn’t Tim or Duke.”

“Never said he was.”

“But he implied he was and you didn’t correct him.”

“Tim and Duke aren’t my brothers, Mandy.”

“By your logic, you don’t have any family at all. So why is X going around calling you brothers?”

Dick didn’t respond.

“Why’d you spend Family Weekend with him? Why are you wearing a jacket you normally keep locked away with all the other Batman-related things you pretend don’t exist?”

Dick frowned and dropped his hand to his hoodie. “It’s not Batman’s logo.”

“Sure, Dick, and I -”

“It’s Batkid’s.”

There was a moment of silence.

“Oh. Oh shit.”

“Mandy.”

“You think he’s… him.”

“He is.”

“Dick, Jason died.”

“Like I said, long story. He is back. The others know it too, considering the call I just had with Bab-Barbara.”

“You actually talked to her,” she said softly, coming to sit next to him.

“I talked at her. She didn’t get to say much. I just needed to warn her and the others about something Jay said and it’s too involved in our civilian identities to trust the message with Dove.”

“Sure, or maybe you just wanted to hear her voice.”

Dick glared up at her. “I want to hear all of their voices, is that what you want me to say? You know I’m not afraid to admit I miss them, it’s just not going to change anything.”

“Admitting it is the first step,” she shot back. “Now do something about it.”

“They don’t want me, Mandy. I’m not going to go crawling back there just to get shunted back into juvie!”

“You don’t know that’s what will happen.”

“Yes, I do!”

She grabbed his shoulders and pulled him up so they were eye to eye. “Aren’t you the one who pushed me to reconnect with my mom?”

“That’s different and you know it,” he said, pushing her hands off.

“Why?”

“She’s your mom.”

“And they’re your family.”

“No, they’re not!”

“Di-”

He stood up. “They know where I am! I’m not trying to hide! I didn’t even change my codename! If any of them wanted to talk to me, Babs could easily contact me! At the very least, she or Steph could have Holly give me the message! Or Damian could ask Jon to pass the message to Eliza and she could give it to me! And yet that call is the only time I’ve heard from any of them since the Fight! Why do you think that is?”

“Because you’re terrible at dealing with emotions when they’re your own and the rest of your family is the same or worse,” she deadpanned.

“Just drop it.”

She sighed and got up to leave. She paused before opening the door. “You’re going to have to deal with this one of these days. Probably sooner than you think if you’re going to keep talking to Jason.”

“Doubtful. He isn’t exactly sitting down for tea with the Bats either right now.”

She shook her head and left.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A little explanation of characters mentioned

Teen Titans:

Robin - Richard "Dick" Grayson: Foster son of Damian Wayne (15yo)

Virus - Galv-10 "Galvio" of Gex (~16yo in comparison to human development)

Nightstar - Ma’andkori "Mandy" Grace: Daughter of Kory and Artemis Grace (17yo)

Impulse - Iris "Irey" West: Daughter of Wally West, Twin of Jai (15yo)

Wonder Girl - Yara Flor: Daughter of an Amazon and Brazilian God (16yo)

Other Titans:

Turtle - Jai West: Son of Wally West, Twin of Irey (15yo)

Speedy - Dinah "Di" Harper: Second Daughter of Roy Harper (16yo)

Dove - Holly Hall: Daughter of Hank and Dawn Hall (14yo)

Aquagirl - Mareena: Daughter of Kaldur'ahm (14yo)

Supergirl - Eliza Zor-El/Eliza Lutessa Luthor: Clone of Kara and Lena Luthor (13yo)

Bats:

Batman - Bruce Wayne (49yo)

Catwoman - Selina Kyle-Wayne (50yo)

Oracle - Barbara Gordon (41yo)

Orphan - Cassandra "Cass" Wayne: Eldest Child/Only Daughter of Bruce Wayne (36yo)

Flamebird - Damian Wayne: Oldest Son of Bruce Wayne (26yo)

Nightwing - Jon-El/Jonathan "Jon" Samuel Kent: Partner of Flamebird (26)yo

Signal - Duke Thomas: Second Son of Bruce Wayne (23yo)

Black Bat - Timothy "Tim" Drake-Wayne: Third Son of Bruce Wayne (22yo)

Batgirl - Stephanie Brown (21yo)

Red X - Jason Peter Todd-Wayne: Fourth Son of Bruce Wayne (17yo)

[yodawgiherd]

Overcoming Obstacles pt.2

Rating: T

>>>Read on AO3<<<

The second part (and ending) of that old WIP, hope you guys will like it x) More importantly, Merry Christmas and happy holidays!

Enjoy & Till next time!

“E-Eren..”, she took an involuntarily step back upon noticing him, hugging the books she was holding closer to her chest. Mikasa wasn’t ready for this, not now, not ever.

“What are you doing here?”

“You’ve been avoiding me.”, he stated, matter-of-factly, pushing himself away from the wall he leaned at while waiting for her class to end, “For days by now. May I know why?”

The walls were closing in from all sides, and Mikasa could feel her heartbeat quickening. Out of all things, being confronted about her behavior was one she didn’t enjoy. Especially when she couldn’t really respond to any questions Eren might have, for the sole reason that she didn’t know the right answer either.

“I just needed spa-space, I think…”

“I can respect that,” Eren agreed, “but I feel like an honest conversation would do us both better than pretending that I ceased to exist.”

“I…Uhm..”

Seeing that she didn’t know what to say, he took the lead.

“First of all, I want to apologize for overstepping, it shouldn’t have happened.”

“You don’t have to,” Mikasa was shaking her head, “It was nothing.”

“Then why? Why did you start ignoring me?”, Eren took a step towards her, green eyes intense, “Mikasa, please, I want to understand you…”

“Because…Because…”

He was too close. This was happening too fast. Mikasa almost felt like fainting as she took an instinctive step backward, away from Eren and his burning desire for her to open up to him. Seeing her retreat, he stopped, giving her the space she craved. Yet everything still felt awkward, from the way Eren looked at her to the sound her rings made when they clicked against the metal circles piercing the upper part of her ear, the two types of jewelry brought together as Mikasa nervously smoothed a strand of her hair behind the ear.

“Because this was never going to work.”, she finally squeezed out, saying it more to the ground then to Eren, unable to meet his eyes.

“Why?”

“Just look at you!”, Mikasa finally snapped, gaze shooting up to his, “You can have any girl you want, looking the way you do, why would you ever waste your time on someone like me?”

The sudden intensity in her words has taken Eren by surprise, making him blink a few times.

“Someone like you? What do you mean by that?”

With a groan, Mikasa gestured up and down herself, hoping that he’ll understand her point.

“I’m weird, Eren, and not in a good way. I dress weird, I listen to weird music, I spend way too much of my time at the gym, I’m not good at socializing and terrible at talking to anyone. I have one hundred and one problems which I never share, and whenever anything comes up that I don’t know how to deal with I close it up inside myself.”, she shook her head, “And that’s just the opening part of the whole list of problems in me.”

Yet her rant didn’t move Eren, who kept looking at her with the same tender expression.

“So?”

“I just listed you a number of things why you should stop wasting your time on me and that’s the best you can come up with? So?”

He shrugged.

“That list? It’s nothing we can’t work through.”

Damn, he still didn’t understand.

“Eren, I..”

“Back when we were dating, I thought that it was obvious that you are more to me than some kind of one-night stand or a short fling. But if you didn’t catch it, then let me say it out loud: I want to get to know you, Mikasa Ackerman, I want to earn your trust and respect, and I want you to want me as a partner. With you, it was never about anything less than that.”

Eren tried taking another step towards her, but Mikasa backed off again, desperate.

“No! you just… You just can’t!”

“I can’t what?”

“You can’t like me!”

While Mikasa was on the edge of screaming,  frustrated by his boneheadedness, Eren seemed completely composed for once.

“Why is that?”

“Because… Because I said so.”

“So I can’t like you for who you are because you said so. Huh..”

He was giving her a fucking headache with this. Dull pain behind her eyes, Mikasa pressed a hand against her forehead, still retreating, away from Eren and his determination to want her, away from his reasons and willingness to be there for her.

“It’s better this way.”, she said, convincing herself as much as him, “Leave me alone, just… just forget that anything happened between us, okay?”

When he did reply, it was hardly more than a whisper.

“I can’t do that.”

It didn’t matter. Eren would thank her one day, that she ended this failure of a relationship now before it had the chance to truly plant roots. Turning away, feeling the headache building, Mikasa walked away at a brisk pace, determined to reach her dorm room before the dams that held her tears back give way and she will break down crying. No-one had to see that, she was already the weird goth girl, she didn’t want to be known as the crying emo. It was the right thing to do, even if it hurt, and Mikasa was sure that she will get over it. One day.

“I just don’t understand it Armin, I thought everything was going great.”

The blond nodded knowingly at his friend, offering the brooding Eren a supportive shoulder squeeze.

“I felt like I was doing my best too, and now…”, Eren sighed, head dropping, “Now I’m not sure what to do.”

“Hm..”

“And I like her man, I don’t care what she says. I like her.”

“Hmm..”

“I didn’t mind that she was different, alt or something, I liked the things she wore too, the piercings, rings, the choker, everything. I think it looks cute.”

“Hmm”

“And…”

The list went on, with Eren listing all the stuff he liked on Mikasa while Armin just sat there with a hand on his shoulder, doing those neutral humming sounds to show that he’s listening to his friend’s ranting. In conclusion, Eren still had it bad for the girl who so unceremoniously dumped his ass, clearly unconvinced that Mikasa was as unlikeable as she apparently thought she was.

“I wish she would listen to me for a sec, but she just keeps talking about how wrong I am and how terrible she is.”, Eren sighed, finally finishing his speech, “It sucks man, it just sucks.”

Sensing a chance to say something apart from humming, Arming cleared his throat.

“Have you perhaps considered that while you like Mikasa, she is doing this for the simple reason of her not liking you back with this being her way of letting you know?”

That made Eren look up.

“You think?”

“Well, if I look at you two, there are certain… differences, that she might find too big to bear. You might find her style cute and all, but maybe she doesn’t find yours… compatible.”

“You’re saying I’m not goth enough for her?”

“Not the word I would pick but yes, basically. You have to admit that you two are not exactly similar in your way of life.”

Liking someone was great and all, but not even Eren was stupid enough to think that relationship was a one-way street. And if it was like this, it made sense that she was so eager to get rid of him. If Eren’s feelings for Mikasa weren’t reciprocated then… Then what the fuck was he supposed to do?

“Perhaps… Perhaps you’re right. I, uh, haven’t thought about that.”

Eren fell silent, staring into the distance before speaking again.

“Armin, how should I deal with finding out that the girl I really wanted doesn’t want me back.”

“I’m not sure I know the answer to that. What I do know, however, is that there is a party tonight, one that you should certainly attend to take your mind off Mikasa.”, he squeezed Eren’s shoulder again, “What do you say, wanna go there with me, clear your head?”

Sometimes, Eren felt like he didn’t even deserve having such a supportive friend that Armin was. Forcing a smile upon his face, one that was quite hard to conjure considering his currently heartbroken state, he nodded.

“Fine, let’s do that.”

Look, Mikasa didn’t want much from life right now. Just some quality time spent on her own, crying into the pillow while her music blasted from the speakers at too high of a volume. Yet the universe wasn’t prone to granting her even this simple of a wish, as her self-pity period was interrupted by her roommate knocking at the door.

“I know you’re in there Miks.”, Sasha did sound muffled from behind the wood, “Let me in.”

“Go away.”, the girl tried to drive her friend away, but knowing Sasha, it was a wasted effort.

“C’mon.”, the knock came again, more insistent, “Let’s talk.”

She wouldn’t give up, that was for sure. So giving in to the inevitable, Mikasa stood up from the bed, shuffling towards the door and turning the lock open. Sasha squeezed in almost immediately, eyes darting all over her friend’s visage and taking it all in. Full-on in passive mode, Mikasa just went to sit down on the bed, watching as Sasha lowered the music to a more acceptable volume before coming to sit next to her.

“Okay so…”, she leaned in, “What happened?”

“I don’t really want to talk about it…”, Mikasa replied dismissively , the memory still hurting.

Sasha clicked her tongue, unsure for a second before a new idea lit up in her mind. Leaving Mikasa to sit there on her own for a sec, she walked over to the table and retrieved something before coming back.

“Here, let’s make a deal.”, she suggested, “I’m going to clean the makeup from your face, because your eyeliner is totally ruined by the tears, and in turn, you’ll tell me what happened.”

She held up a wipe, eyeing the mess Mikasa had on her face, tear-streaked face with traces of eyeliner kinda everywhere.

“No rush.”, she cooed, gently tapping the soft material against her friend’s cheek, “Take your time.”¨

Sitting silently, Mikasa was organizing her thoughts while her face was getting cleaned, but before she could start speaking Sasha gasped, eyes widening.

“Jesus, what’s wrong with your eyes? I thought it’s just makeup but…”, she rubbed the skin more insistently with the wipe, but the shadow still wouldn’t come off, “are those….”

“Dark circles.”, Mikasa finished for her.

“Do you even sleep at all? Damn.”

“I’ve had trouble sleeping lately.. “, Mikasa sighed, ”the nightmares…”

“I thought it was getting better?”, Sasha queried, “Wasn’t it?”

“It was but then it got worse when… you know…”

“You two broke up?”

“Yes.”

It was rather selfish to think about him that way, but Mikasa couldn’t deny that she missed Eren’s dream-catching abilities, among other things. Rare enough to find a guy who was willing to share the bed with her without expecting anything of a more intimate nature to happen. His presence at her side allowed her to sleep better than usual, the nightmares somehow warded off by that arm around her waist. Sure, they still happened sometimes, but nowhere near as intense or often than they used to. Now, however, with her mind in a poor state caused by all this break-up mess, they were back in full force.

“Why did that happen again?”

“Huh?”

“The breakup.”, Sasha was delicately wiping off Mikasa’s lipstick now, “Why did you leave him?”

“I didn’t want to hold him back.”

Sasha paused in her cleaning duty, looking up with an arched eyebrow.

“Hold him back? From what?”

“Someone better than me. Look, we just aren’t compatible, that’s it.”

“Really? That’s what you think about yourself? That you’re some kind of baggage to weigh people down?”

“Am I wrong?”

“Yes! Hundred times yes!”, Sasha exclaimed, bewildered, “Mikasa, I’m not saying that you’re perfect, but damn it girl, you keep overplaying that worthless card.”

The goth was already shaking her head.

“He didn’t know me…”

“Because you didn’t let him! I’m pretty sure that not even your brother knows what’s going inside that head of yours. If you won’t let anyone in, how are they supposed to get to know you?”

“Uh..”

“You keep making it harder for both yourself and anyone who tries to like you, while in fact, you should be trying to make it easier.”, Sasha sighed, a bit fed up by her friend's unwillingness to see the worth of herself, “It comes down to two things. Did you feel good with him?”

“Err... Kinda?”

“I’ll take that as yes. Now, did he feel good with you?”

“I think so..”

“See? So, what is the damn issue?”

“You don’t understand.”

“Because there is nothing to understand, apart from you being so dismissive of yourself.”, Sasha took a deep breath, calming herself after the outrage and focused once more on making Mikasa’s pale skin appear from underneath the runny makeup.

“Listen, let’s make a deal.”, Sasha offered, “I’ll stop pestering you for now if you agree to come with me to a party tonight. If you are really determined to go through with the breakup, maybe you’ll meet someone new. If not, it’s still a good opportunity to make new friends and forget about all this for a time. We have a deal?”

Sasha never took no for an answer. And her presence alone seemed to make the headache that bothered Mikasa ever since she ran away from the conversation with Eren lessen. Mikasa might not have preferred to attend events like these herself but going with Sasha usually meant a somewhat good time, as she really was the life of any party.

“Okay,”, she smiled at her friend, “Deal.”

Now that Mikasa agreed to this, she watched with a sinking feeling in her stomach as Sasha’s grin widened, a new reality sinking in. Going with her meant that she was now going to suffer a beauty treatment from the hands of her best friend because going to party with Sasha meant that you went all out. No holds barred. Mikasa’s ruined makeup finally removed, it was time to do it again, this time Sasha’s way, which meant substantially less black color that Mikasa would like. Giving in to her fate, the goth sat there silently, playing the role of a dress-up doll for her friend.

Lips lightened by a bright red, hair let down from their usual braids to hang freely around her face, a touch of makeup on the cheeks and forehead. Sasha was truly in her element now and had no intention of letting Mikasa out of her clutches until her appearance reflected what Sasha thought was best for her. The bright red dress was also one of hers, and while Mikasa did fit in, it was a bit loose around the chest. Nothing too bad, Sasha decided, stealing away the choker and necklaces from the goth after. Seriously, who would wear more than one at the same time? Mikasa really had no fashion sense.  

“I’m going to die in those.”, Mikasa said, wide eyes watching the heels that Sasha intended for her friend to wear, “I won’t be able to make a single step without tipping over.”

She never wore heels. Ever.

“Oh please, you’ll be fine!”, gently but insistently, Sasha pushed her down on the bed again, helping her fasten the shoes on her feet. “I saw the way you move at the gym, this is not that different.”

“Wearing heels isn’t different from fighting, huh?”

“Basically.”

You know what? Sasha did a damn good job. Watching her friend waddle around with a horrified expression, she had to congratulate herself on bringing out all of Mikasa’s good looking features. There, she did what she could. Looking like this, Sasha was sure that Mikasa could have any guy at the party if she wanted to. Now the wanting part was something that she had to do herself, so her job done, Sasha checked the clock and began to work on herself too.

The party was loud, obnoxiously so, and Eren had trouble keeping his thoughts straight with the music pounding into his eardrums. Others didn’t seem to mind, doing the usual activities one does at a party, ranging from drinking and dancing to making out in dark corners. He could be one of those guys, his mouth working its way down some girl’s neck, making her moan into his ear. If only he wasn’t so fucking stupid. Armin did a bang-up job, being a wingman, practically delivered several very good-looking women to him, but all he did was fuck it up, over and over again.

Anyone he met just annoyed him, for some reason, something the girl said, or the way she acted made him bail out. Hell, he even danced with the last one, but whatever you’re supposed to feel when being grinded on by a very pretty girl just didn’t happen, and Eren found himself at his wit’s end, mindlessly wandering the party, unsure what to do anymore. Relaxing and just forgetting about Mikasa didn’t seem to be possible especially when that girl leaning at the wall was so similar to her, down to the shade of her hair, but Mikasa would never wear such a revealing dress and high heels, would she? There was no way…

It was her. Whatever dark magic had to be invoked to make her dress this much out of her comfort zone was a mystery to Eren, but the second he was sure of the girl’s identity he found himself walking towards her, unable to stop his legs from moving. So much for moving on. Not sure what to say, not sure what to do, he reached out, gently tapping her on the exposed shoulder. She turned, her eyes glaring daggers into whoever touched her, a preemptive defensive system against creeps she developed over her life. One that was very effective too, as Mikasa could be damn scary when she wanted to, able to make anyone’s knees buckle with a single look. The murderous gaze softened only when she realized who it was.

“Eren…”

“Mikasa…”

Smooth. He was silent, she was silent, as they just looked at each other in the muted light, neither of them having any idea how to proceed. That was when Eren finally decided to man up, and he held a hand towards her with a crooked smile.

“Wanna dance?”

Her lips, which as he now realized were painted in a bright red color instead of the usual black one, curved up, and she accepted his hand, intertwining their fingers. At least her nails were still black, Eren noted with a smile of his own.

“Let’s go.”

Sasha might have been wrong about a lot of things, but her assumptions that Mikasa will get used to moving in high heels proved to be a correct one. With her natural agility and grace she managed to not only walk without making a fool out of herself but also dance, to a degree, her movements making Eren understand what the phrase “hot and bothered” means. The party was more or less forgotten for them, receding into the background as all he could see was the girl in front of him, the smile on her face and the twinkle in her eyes, and in a moment of a terrible clarity he realized that forgetting her and moving on was no longer an option. Maybe Mikasa really was a witch, as Eren felt completely and totally under her spell, enchanted by whatever magic she cast upon him. And fighting that power was a lost cause.

“Can I take this as you giving me another chance?”, he spoke, loud enough for her to hear it over the music when she was close again, her back to his front.

Eren couldn’t see her face, but from the way Mikasa’s body stiffened, he guessed that she still didn’t know what to do herself. Turning in his arms, she faced him, the heels giving her height enough of a boost that they were looking eye-to-eye. The thing was, Mikasa could hardly remember a time she ever felt happy in her life. It was a drag, more or less, to exist, grey days blending together. But with Eren, it was just so colorful, his hand in hers bringing her more joy than anything she could remember. In short, Mikasa had never felt more alive than when she was with him, but she had to make sure he understood what kind of trouble he was signing up for.

“Are you completely and totally sure that you want to put up with my mess?”, she asked, serious, “I know that it’s a bit of a joke at this point, but I really am not like the other girls. I’m a half Japanese half Russian mess that is so hard to understand that I’m not that I fully understand myself. Knowing this, do you still want to date me?”

They had a lot to work through, it wouldn’t be all fun and games, but still. Eren was never more certain about giving the correct answer to any question in his life.

“Without a doubt.”

[ratchedspeach]

Can you write a one shot about Cat and Jade being cute and in love?

Oh who am I to say no to this! Get ready for fluff with a lil bit of angst (cause I’m still me teehee) … In which Cat hates studying, and Jade has had way too much coffee

La Lune et Les Etoiles

In which Jade is an insanely passionate student, and Cat is not.

She might be the only person Cat knew that loves finals week. Jade sat cross legged on a chair, her purple-streaked curls pulled into a messy ponytail and her eyes trained on the novella La Salle de Bain by Jean-Philippe Toussaint. She had dragged Cat there to help her do research for their French final, which Cat had agreed to after enough threats to her immediate bodily safety from her morbid but mostly harmless friend. Cat hated finals - hated school in general, really, which only made her hate being in the Hollywood Arts High School’s surprisingly dull library past 1:00 in the morning on a Friday night that much more.

“Are you planning on actually reading it?” Jade inquired, taking a sip from her fourth cup of coffee since they’d been there, but never looking up from her own book.

Cat looked at the book in her own hands - Dans La Café de la Jeunesse Perdue by Patrick Modiano. They were comparing the dichotomy of French gender roles throughout the decades by analyzing famous philosophic, literary works. It had been Jade’s idea, obviously, and Cat had only gone along when she’d finally promised that she would write the paper on her own if she would agree to at least help with research.

“It’s in French.” Cat pouted, bending the corners of a few delicate pieces of paper with her index finger.

That got Jades attention. She peaked her eyes out from behind her already half-finished book, quirking an eyebrow. “So?”

“I speak English.”

“Cat, the project is for our French class.” Jade addressed, a sinking feeling settling in her stomach when she realized she knew exactly where this conversation was going.

Cat nodded, adding an airy “yeah.”

“We ... It’s supposed to be in French.” Jade folded the corner of her page down before placing the book on the desk separating the two of them. “Can you ... do you not ... Cat, please tell me you can actually speak - oh forget it.” She placated, bringing her thumb and index finger to clamp down on the bridge of her nose.

“I’m sorry,” Cat spilled, “I tried to tell you that I wasn’t very good at this.”

“Cat,” Jade cautioned, her eyes burning with an amalgam of frustration, and what Cat could only explain as ... humor...? “this is an upper level literature course. One of the requirements is speaking French. How did you even get in!?”

It earned them a hush from the librarian, which earned her Jade’s loudest, most melodramatic groan. This was all just getting to be a little too cliche for her. She had agreed to be partners with the red head because out of everyone in that class, she was the person that Jade hated the least. She had known that it would mean doing the bulk of the work - not because she thought Cat wasn’t smart; as a matter of fact when she applied herself, Jade was often shocked at what the girl had to say. No, rather she knew because she had seen Cat’s performance throughout the semester, thus knew how much she struggled with the language. She just ... hadn’t realized the full extent of it.

Cat bit her lip, averting her own gaze from the brooding girl across from her. “You sounded excited when I said I was gonna be in it. I didn’t want to disappoint you.”

“Okay, first of all, nothing excites me.” Jade griped, ignoring the color that rose in her pale cheeks. “And second of all, I wouldn’t have told you to take it if I knew you couldn’t actually speak French!”

Cat’s usually sunny features drew into a childish glower. “You were excited.”

“Excitement is for man children.”

“Sikowitz is always excited.”

“Point and case.” She gloated with a smirk.

Jade could hold a grudge against anyone, but when she harrumphed softly, crossing her pink sweater adorned arms across of her stomach, her smiled tugged a little harder at the corners of her mouth. There was no use being angry with Cat - it was like trying to be upset with rain for falling - it didn’t know better, and neither did she.

“Look, it’s fine.” Jade sighed, rolling her eyes and pulling her hair out of the ponytail. “I’ll do the project, and Mme. Chopain doesn’t need to know a thing. I promise.”

Jade tossed her now loose curls over her left shoulder, bringing her fingers to massage the roots of her hair and tussle them softly. Cat watched, her warm caramel eyes fixed on they way her fingers skillfully moved through her dark locks. It did not go unnoticed by the goth, who felt something in her stomach flutter. She took a deep breath, pulling her fingers out of her hair and bringing both hands to cup her now lukewarm coffee mug. The library had a small vending machine which dispensed one dollar cups of the stuff, and while it wasn’t to the standard of the countless artisanal shops in the LA area, it was enough to keep her wired, and that’s all Jade really cared about.

“Thank you.” Cat intoned, the last of her pout melting away back into a sheepish smile. 

Jade watched the redhead, a flash of something warm streaking through her eyes before they settled into her usual, deliberate glare. She worried her bottom lip between her teeth for a moment as though she were about to say something, before shrugging slightly and burying her nose back in the text.

“What?” Cat queried, leaning in across the desk and placing her chin gently on her folded arms. 

Jade bristled slightly. “Nothing.” She snapped. “I’m just stressed now, that’s all.”

The other girl studied her for a moment, because it wasn’t anger she sensed in her. It was … something else. Cat worried her bottom lip between her teeth, continuing to examine Jade, who had noticed her interested, which only made the color in her cheeks rise further.

“You’re being weird.” Cat noticed airily, twisting a few pieces of hair between her fingers.

Jade’s brow furrowed. “I am not!” She exclaimed, earning her another shush from the after-hours librarian. “Shush me again, and I’ll strangle you with your dollar store wig!”

They were kicked out of the library immediately, much to Cat’s delight. The Hollywood Arts parking lot stretched drearily in front of them - a fresh blanket of mist causing it to glint in the early morning light. Cat checked her pear phone for the time. 3:13 a.m. She rubbed at her eyes before glancing at Jade, who was rummaging through her cluttered backpack for the keys to her yellow VW Bug (It would never not make Cat giggle a little to see the otherwise monochrome girl in her all-too vibrant, all-too girlie car).

“I can drive you home if you want.” Cat offered as Jade threw her bag on the ground in a fit of frustration and what she could only assume was coffee-induced adrenaline.

Jade didn’t respond. It was now her turn to press the palms of either hand to her eyes, heaving a low sigh as she sat on the curb, her legs stretched onto the empty street. Cat bit the inside of her cheek, uncertain of whether that was supposed to be a yes or a get the hell out of here. She chose to assume the former, mimicking the other girl’s movement, and sitting delicately next to her. Jade shifted slightly as she felt her friends hip graze her own when she sat down.

Cat noticed. 

“Planning on sleeping here?” She asked, only half joking, before adding, “I think my cot is still in the attic.”

Jade smiled softly. “Well I can’t sleep.” She admonished, pulling her hair back into the ponytail she had started the night in. “Too much coffee. So I might as well…”

“What?”

Jade shrugged, but didn’t respond, because honestly, she wasn’t sure. She was too tired to study, and too wired on black coffee to sleep. She hadn’t planned on getting kicked out of the library. Come to think of it, she hadn’t exactly planned on doing the work of a two-person AP French Lit exam all on her own. Jade felt the tension in her chest grow as her breath hitching dangerously in her throat, and apparently so did Cat, because before she could process what was happening, the redhead was pulling her head onto her shoulder, stroking the goth’s hair, and apologizing.

“I should’ve told you I couldn’t speak French.” Cat whispered.

She smelled like a mix of peppermint and lavender, and it made whatever anxiety was bubbling in Jade’s stomach almost completely disappear. “It’s ok.” She whispered as her breath came back to even. “I should’ve known better than to think you did.”

Cat giggled, and Jade matched her, pulling her head off of her shoulder to meet her gaze. Their laughs dissipated into a heavy silence. Cat watched as Jade’s smile fell into an uncertain glower, the light behind her eyes glinting with a mixture of deviance and … could that be … Is she scared? Cat thought, before something flared in her mind.Oh shit. Am I? Cat thought she should look away - thought that holding the gaze of her fickle friend could only lead to empty, but still terrifying threats of violence. She knew Jade.

Or … so she thought.

It caught her completely off-guard, therefore, when what came from Jade’s lips wasn’t incitements of bodily harm, when it wasn’t anything coming from them at all, but when it was just … her lips - soft, and gentle, and tasting of rose-tinted lip balm. Cat’s eyes went wide for a moment before a flood of warmth starting from her mouth and radiated through her body, and her eyes closed and she just reveled in it. They sat like that for a moment, Cat’s arms coming across Jade’s shoulders, and Jade’s awkwardly at her side as though she still wasn’t sure if she was allowed to touch the redhead.

The kiss lasted no more than a minute. Jade was the one to start it and to end it - pulling away with her eyes still closed like she couldn’t believe that she had just … that she …

“Shit.” Jade breathed, alarm sounding through her entire body. 

Cat watched her, the fingers of her left hand coming up to touch her now lips in disbelief, wide-eyed, and still warm, and wishing that she could kiss her again. “That was …”

“Shit.”

They looked at each other for a moment longer before a smile pinched the dimples on Cat’s cheeks, and Jade’s heart fluttered desperately. It scared Cat a little to see her so uncertain, because it was the very opposite of the behavior that she had come to expect from the brooding teen. She placed her fingertips on the pavement, allowing them to brush against Jade’s, and watching as her lips pursed into a tentative smile that resembled more of a smirk.

“I didn’t know you were …” Cat trailed off when the dark haired girl shook her head.

“I … didn’t really know either.” She admitted, before adding in flustered babble. “I mean, I knew, I just … I … I hadn’t planned on …”

Jade trailed off, bringing the hand not touching Cat’s to smack her forehead as she continued to fight for the right words. The redhead smiled sheepishly, her chest fluttering as she watched the other girl. The smile fell, though, when she saw the tears rimming her lash line as she desperately tried to blink them away.

“J-Jade…?” Cat pulled her hand fingers to fully lace between her friend’s (if she could still really call her that).

“My parents don’t know.” Jade whispered, sucking in a sharp, shuddered breath.

“Neither do mine.”

“Beck doesn’t know.”

“… oh.” She’d forgotten about him.

They sat in silence for a moment, Jade still holding back tears, and Cat watching her like she might disappear altogether if she so much as blinked. Their fingers stayed entangled, both of them grasping onto the other like it was the only thing grounding them to earth. Jade felt like she was flying as the mixture of angst and utter joy jumbled in the pit of her stomach. She had never thought about what her first kiss with a girl would be like. She had always known that she wanted to have one, but she hadn’t expected it to be so … gentle, so exquisitely delicate and easy. Jade realized that a large part of that had to do with who she was kissing. Cat - all smiles and sunshine and utter bliss. Jade wished it could be simple, wished so desperately that they could just kiss and have it mean nothing more, but she knew it couldn’t be left at just that. Cat, on the other hand, blinded by her positive (dare Jade say … naive?) outlook on the world, was over the moon and nothing more. Jade envied her for that.

“There’s a saying in French,” She changed the subject, eyes still fixed on the empty school lot, “la lune et les etoiles tout ensemble.” 

Cat had never heard her speak French, and it took her breath away - the way the words flowed and flickered between her teeth, and the expulsion of breath that perfected her accent.

“What does it mean?” She asked blithely.

Jade looked at her, eyes ablaze with too many different things for Cat to comprehend. She wondered how someone could feel so many things at once, how she could fit everything into her slender frame.

“The moon and stars all in one.” Jade smiled faintly, perhaps even a little sadly, before placing her head once more on the other girl’s shoulder.

Cat didn’t know how to respond, so she didn’t, welcoming the contact and the warmth that once more radiated throughout her body. They sat like that until dawn, watching the stars fade into the glow of morning, and letting the rest of the world slip away.

At least for a little while.

[complicatedandstained]

The Other Day at Hot Topic: Destiny, My Dude

The dust has barely settled between Roxas and Vanitas before business starts to pick up and for the first time all day, the unlikely duo find themselves confronted with a hoard of holiday shoppers.  

It’s not long before they have barricaded themselves behind the register, side-by-side, juggling purchases from overenthusiastic nerds, under-enthusiastic goths, parents who just want a gift card so they can GTFO, and middle schoolers who can’t seem to grasp that Roxas and Vanitas can hear the kiddos rating them on their Hot Topic Scale of Hotness.

It’s a conversation which makes Roxas wince and grin in equal measure, trying to hold in laughter, as Vanitas helps the one that had said he was ‘trying too hard’ check out her items with all the warmth and personality of a GPS navigator. 

When the last of the shoppers has left the store, Vanitas groans and slumps forward, arms crossing and rings clattering against the countertop. “Thank the Lord.” 

Roxas sweeps a hand through his bangs and laughs, a relieved and airy thing. “Yeah… I think that’s the most people I’ve seen in here since I started.” 

Vanitas rolls over, his back against the countertop, and covers his eyes with his arms. “And all those fricking children. I thought I’d have to beat them off of you with a mannequin arm.” He shifts his arms slightly to better level Roxas with an accusing glare. 

“Whoa. Me?” Roxas steps back, a hand lifting to cover his heart. “You must not have heard them right.” He tries to keep his tone serious but can’t smother another smile. “Your brooding score was double mine.” 

“Ah,” Vanitas shifts his arms back over his eyes, “shut up, Thirteen.”

Once again it seems that as much as Vanitas likes to throw shade, he doesn’t like to stand in it. 

Roxas paces toward the trashcan to throw out a forgotten receipt, but continues over his shoulder, “You’re just salty we didn’t hear what they superscored you.”

“I’m salty,” Vanitas corrects, and it’s obviously not a word he’s fond of, “I had to be nice to them because, as much as you might enjoy the experience, I don’t want Axel to chew me up and spit me out.” He removes his arms, revealing a cringe, and narrows his eyes at Roxas, “I swear to God, the next person that tries to come in here, I’m going to bite their face off.”

Roxas doesn’t have time to try to suss out what this chewing and spitting comment means, before his thoughts are interrupted. “Shh…” he cautions, as Vanitas opens his mouth again, “I think someone is coming.” Roxas can hear humming and the rustle of displays being jostled off near the front. 

Vanitas groans but pushes off the counter and rises to his full height. “Welcome to Hot Topic,” he greets with uncharacteristic enthusiasm, though their guest is not yet in sight. “Thanks for stopping by! What brings you in today and how may I be of assistance?” 

Vanitas has the customer service voice of someone being held at gunpoint, but Roxas supposes it’s marginally better than Vanitas cussing people out or making unwanted comments about their sex lives. 

“Uh, what?” 

Roxas feels like he’s heard that disgruntled squawk before. Sure enough, a few seconds later, Demyx’s pompadour mohawk rises above the aisle displays, and then he’s peeking out, eyes wide, the stretch of his mouth skeptical. “You feeling okay, Vani? You’re sounding awfully... pleasant.” 

“Oh,” Vanitas bats his hand as if to shoo Demyx off, cheer deflating from his voice, “it’s just you. Aren’t you off today? What do you want?”

Demyx smiles, waggles his eyebrows, tosses back his head, and, as he maneuvers through the aisles, starts to sing, “Hello, darkness, my old friend.” He’s not strumming on a ukulele, but he may as well be. 

Vanitas groans, burying his head in his arms on the countertop once more, like maybe it will make Demyx go away. “Not this again.” 

Demyx appears in full view and stretches out his arms, displaying a cropped, cut off ‘Take It Easy’ ‘Life is Good’ tank top above a flat stomach and ripped skinny jeans, slung low enough to reveal the edges of his boxers, despite the plaid shirt tied unevenly around his narrow waist. It’s a notable, but not, in Roxas’ opinion, unwelcome, departure from the unicorn sweater Roxas had last seen him in. The closer he gets, the more the air smells like burnt sand and coconut sunscreen.  

“I've come to talk with you again.”

Vanitas scrunches his hair in his hand and, lifting his head slightly, his eyes flit to Roxas. “What did I do to deserve this torment?” “I can think of a few things,” Roxas quips before his better judgement can stop him. 

Vanitas presses a palm to Roxas’ chest without looking, pushing him a step off, but his glare returns to the approaching Demyx.  

“Because a vision softly creeping,” Demyx’s voice dips lower, and his steps are light enough to make Roxas wonder if the aspiring rockstar hadn’t had a few ballet classes back in the day. “Left its seeds while I was sleeping…” 

“And by that you mean Axel texted you?” Vanitas calls, entirely disrespectful of Demyx’s lyrical momentum. 

That Demyx’s visit isn’t random hadn’t occurred to Roxas. No one had exactly praised Demyx for his reliability and work ethic, but it does seem like he and Axel are close enough to merit a personal favor.

Had Axel tried to stop Vanitas from targeting me by sending in a bigger target?

Demyx smile widens, but he’s not thrown off. He pauses just in front of the checkout lane, posture sure, the smell of the beach clinging to him stronger than ever. 

“And the vision that was planted in my brain, still remains. 

Within the sound—of silence.”

A chill creeps up Roxas’ spine, listening to the soft lyrics laid bare, resonating in the empty store, entirely eclipsing and yet enhanced by the roaring background music. It’s not even that Demyx has the most incredible voice, so much as that he’s experienced enough to know how to really use it.  

Vanitas looks less appreciative. He glances around like he’s looking for something to chuck at the man singing to him. 

“In restless dreams, I walked alone—!”  Demyx breaks with tradition to belt, one arm outstretched grandly as he advances, just a few paces away from the register.

“Boo.” Vanitas flings a Pokeball chapstick at Demyx’s jaw.

 Demyx’s arms quickly rise in defense. “Ouch,” he whines. “Not the face, Vani…!” 

Trying not to laugh, Roxas steps forward to ensure Demyx is alright, but he must be, because Demyx steps up to the register and lobs the chapstick back toward Vanitas’ chest.

 “Vanitas used ‘Quick Attack,’” Vanitas observes sourly, as the Pokeball hits the ground and rolls away. “It was not very effective.”  

“You don’t like it?” Demyx pauses in his singing to reassess. His hip juts out in challenge, and there’s a bit of a pout to his lip. 

Vanitas’ sigh is heavy, but he shifts into a pointed smirk. “It’s not that I didn’t like it. I just didn’t think you knew what the sound of silence was.” 

Demyx scoffs, decidedly offended. “Simon and Garfunkel, bro. It’s a classic. I picked it just for you.”

Roxas chuckles, a thousand percent sure that’s not what Vanitas meant, and earns a knowing side eye in response, before Vanitas returns to Demyx, “Yeah, well, serenade Roxas next time.”

“It’s one of Xigbar’s favorites,” Demyx continues, running with his own thoughts, as if Vanitas hasn’t spoken. “He likes the old stuff, asks me to play it all the time.”

Roxas recalls the large, intimidating man from the “training video” Aqua had shown him. Xigbar had been all over Demyx: standing too close, smiling too wide, pulling Demyx off camera to (most likely) make out. On one hand, his muscle mass and massive scar were inarguably terrifying. On the other hand, Xigbar’d been in the video drinking tea with Luxord and is apparently dating Demyx, which means he’s probably some kind of huge teddy bear. Right? 

Yeah, no.

The wolfish smile he’d fixed Demyx throughout the video hadn’t exactly given Roxas teddy vibes. Xigbar’s confidence and cockiness had struck a harsh, uncomfortable contrast against Demyx’s playful naivete. Roxas can’t help but think Demyx has to be either totally stupid or totally fearless.

But, if Demyx is happy…  

Vanitas leans forward, elbows on the counter, chin in his hands. His brows rise, as if perplexed, though he continues to smile. “He’s asking you to ‘shut it’ all the time, then.”  

Roxas is somehow both pissed off and relieved to see that apparently Vanitas likes to give everyone shit about their love lives with very little background knowledge. 

“Well,” Demyx tilts his head as if realizing this is a very real possibility before he shrugs, “he should be more specific.” Roxas chokes down another laugh, and Demyx turns his sights toward him, as if just noticing him, waving a small black bag. “Hey! Roxas! I brought you a surprise!” 

“Please don’t let it be another song,” Vanitas mutters, nonetheless pushing off the counter and following Roxas out from behind it and up to Demyx.

Demyx proceeds to open a black drawstring bag, printed with a white, boxy, professional looking font reading “The Organization.” Small, metallic silver chains twine the letters and beside them what must be the band’s logo is printed all in white. The image—a cross with three points, curving into two tails at the bottom, like a crucifix impaling a heart, sends a slight chill up Roxas’ spine. 

Roxas pushes the thought away. “This is stuff for your band?” 

Demyx nods enthusiastically, tilting the bag to show it off to both of them. “You like? Xigbar and Axel re-did the font and logo a couple months ago and they killed it.”

“Uh, yeah… Looks great…” Roxas is saved from having to elaborate, as Demyx begins listing off items he pulls from the bag, handing them off to Roxas. 

First, comes a demo CD with the same white logo emblazoned across the cover above the band name in the same font. Next, a t-shirt with the band name across the breast pocket, size small, Demyx assures him, “for obvious reasons.” Then, in quick succession, come a couple handfuls of stickers, something that looks like a tentative performance schedule, and finally, a slouchy black beanie with the logo stitched into the rim.  

The last of which, Demyx opts to cap Roxas’ head with immediately, smushing his hair and leaving loose gold spikes sticking out at random. He’s talking all the while, “I invited Xigbar to come and meet you, actually. He can always tell who’s going to be a good fit with the band, but…” Demyx sticks out his tongue, focusing instead on fixing the back of the hat, as Roxas’ adjusts his hipster glasses.

Roxas is not exactly upset at missing this intro opportunity. “Oh, uh, that’s okay. I’m sure he’s busy…” 

Vanitas snorts. He’s turned around, pretending to be busy organizing a register display. 

“Oh, nah,” Demyx buries his nose in the bag again to ensure he hasn’t missed anything, “tattoo parlor was dead, he just didn’t want to come.” 

Roxas blinks, uncertain what to make of this. Demyx laughs and then Vanitas does, harder.

Vanitas tilts his head to look at Roxas, his arms full and his head crowned. Vanitas’ expression seems both horrified and taunting. “Well, aren’t you a picture?” 

Roxas glares back before checking himself and turning to offer Demyx a maybe slightly overwhelmed smile. “Thank you, man, but you didn’t have to go to all this trouble...” 

Demyx waves the thanks away and snaps his fingers. “Yeah! A picture! We need a pic of our newest Organization groupie for the Instagram.  Gotta give the fans what they want.” 

Roxas smile turns wry. So that’s why he went to all this trouble. 

Demyx pulls his phone from his back pocket. Roxas notes its case is plastered with band and beer stickers, as Demyx angles the camera toward him. “Smile pretty, Rox.” 

Roxas thoughtlessly obeys as the camera flashes. 

Demyx flicks through the photos with a thumb and nods, “Awesome, awesome.” He glances up. “What’s your Insta handle, bro?” 

“Oh, gees,” Roxas bites the inside of his cheek in thought. “Haven’t used it much since high school. I think it’s either a-nobody-named-roxas or roxas-thats-a-stick.”

“Ugh.” Demyx full out grimaces, clearly not impressed with High School Roxas’ sense of humor. “Dude, if you join the band, we’re changing that.” He glances down again, tapping, swiping, “Ah! Here we go. Oh,” he breaks into a goofy grin, “look how freaking cute you were…”  Demyx tilts his phone, elbowing Vanitas to look, which he doesn’t. “Skateboarding, karate, rock concert, emo selfie, emo selfie, more skateboarding... Oh, what?” His smile disappears, and Roxas shifts forward, to look at his saved photos upside down. “Whoa, that’s trippy.”

Demyx has up a photo of Sora balanced on Roxas’ shoulders, standing on the beach, the sun in their eyes, dripping with sweat, muscles straining, teeth grit around bubbles of laughter, desperately trying to stretch the few more inches needed to reach a low hanging paopu fruit, so that Sora could woo his crush of the week. 

“There’s two of you!” Demyx continues. “You have a clone!” 

Vanitas stiffens and stops pretending to be straightening anything to lean in and examine the screen, “It’s called a ‘twin,’ genius.” He turns away, rubbing between his eyes like Demyx’s very presence is giving him a migraine. “I have one, too.” 

“Actually, that’s my little brother, Sora.” Roxas taps the screen and Sora’s handle @sora-the-explorer appears. 

Demyx scrolls further down. “Man, Sora’s in half of these. He’s a selfie king.”

“Yeah, well.” Roxas would be more embarrassed by this information if Sora hadn’t been the one to make him download the app and force him to start uploading photos in the first place. “He means well. He likes to ‘share the fun’ with all our friends, so they don’t, you know, miss out.” 

The small, derisive noise that leaves Vanitas’ throat makes Roxas grit his teeth. Yeah, Sora’s a huge cheeseball, but he’s also a downright amazing person. 

“Wait, what’s this…” Demyx is well into Sora’s photos by now. “Roxie’s tenth grade piano recital?”

Vanitas and Roxas’ objections overlap, but Demyx is already pressing play. A familiar melody springs to Roxas’ ears. He did better than he remembers, though one discordant mistake still makes his fingers twitch. 

“What was with your ‘I don’t play anything’ nonsense, Roxie? You’ve been holding out on me, man!” Demyx jabs a finger in Roxas’ chest. “You play the keys damn well.”

Roxas huffs, glancing down at his chipping nail polish, which had always made his instructor cringe. “It’s not exactly my most badass quality.” He glances back up, mouth twitching. “Besides, I didn’t think you’d want a classical pianist for your rock band.”

“Didn’t think we’d want a…” Demyx echoes, fading off, patting Roxas’ shoulder dismissively. “Well, if it was good enough for “Bohemian Rhapsody,” Roxas!”  

Roxas laughs, as Demyx cups his face in both hands, expression growing serious. “The Organization has been looking for someone to play the keys since for-ever! This is destiny, my dude.” Roxas’ brain skips like a scratched-up CD. “I mean… I hadn’t ever really thought about…” Roxas mumbles, frowning. 

This obviously means a lot to Demyx and he doesn’t want to get on the wrong side of Demyx and his friends off this fast. Especially not after this morning with Vanitas. And, it could be fun. Roxas has never been in a band before. 

But he hasn’t played in ages… and the idea of singing in front of a crowd makes him kind of want to lock himself in the Hot Topic fitting room and barricade the door. He was never as good at either thing as he’d wanted to be. Not to mention, he’s only in town for break. 

But it’s not exactly far, and some of their shows are bound to be on the mainland… and…Axel’s in the band… and… and… 

“I just… I don’t know…Can I have some time to think about it?” 

Demyx swats Roxas’ shoulder again unconcerned. “All good, little man. Think about it! Talk to Axel. Come to our practice tomorrow night. I’ll send you the deets. I know you’ll love it.” Demyx is already back to tapping at his phone like it’s a done deal.

“A-a-a-a-nd you’re tagged.”

Roxas has already nearly forgotten about the photo Demyx had just snapped of him. “What?”

[lakritzwolf]

Flufftober 2019

Day 13: Popcorn

Fandom: Shadowhunters (TV) Pairing: Jimon Characters: Simon Lewis, Jace Wayland Warnings: - Additional tags: popcorn, Netflix and not-chill

On AO3

It wasn’t unusual that Jace came home from patrol like this, exhausted, drained, and in a foul mood. Simon had gotten used to it over time, but it still wasn’t easy to watch, not because Jace could be so abrasive and annoying, but because Simon wanted to make him feel better and couldn’t.

It was a little comforting though that mostly, Jace chose Simon’s apartment after days like these to crash instead of the Institute. And now Simon looked at the Shadowhunter on his couch who was wearing lose sweatpants and an oversized hoodie, staring broodingly at nothing, and wondered how he could make it better.

He flopped down next to Jace and offered him a can of Pepsi. “We don’t have to go out with the others if you don’t want to.”

“You just go without me.” Jace crossed his arms. “You’re always so looking forward to those evenings in the Hunter’s Moon.”

“So are you, usually,” Simon replied. “It’s okay. We can just watch Netflix and chill.”

“You, Simon, are never chill.” The corners of Jace’s mouth twitched, and Simon counted that as a win.

“No, but I’m the good kind of not-chill. Like, the happy, excited kind of not-chill. You’re the brooding, dark and mysterious brooding stranger kind of not-chill.”

“You just used brooding twice in the same sentence.”

“Because it’s an apt description,” Simon replied. “Come on, what are you in the mood for?”

“Nothing, Si. Just… watch whatever you want.”

Simon stared at the screen for a moment before he got up, and started puttering about in the kitchen. The microwave dinged, and he came back with a bowl of popcorn a moment later.

“You can’t eat that,” Jace said with a frown.

“I know. But I can smell it.” Simon fell back into the sofa. “And you can eat it.”

“I don’t even like popcorn.”

“Your loss.” Simon took the remote. “There’s a new season of that supernatural goth-fantasy show of those teens hunting demons,” he said.

“Gosh, Simon!” Jace stared at him. “I do that as a day-time job, I don’t want to watch that after work!”

“Right,” Simon said and switched back to his list. “Queer Eye?”

“Whatever, Simon.”

Simon started an episode of season 1, grabbed a handful of popcorn, inhaled deeply with his mouth open, and dropped the popcorn back.

“You really miss popcorn, huh?” Jace asked after a moment.

“Man, I miss so many things,” Simon gave back wistfully.

“Yeah, must be tough.” It sounded a little callous, but by now Simon knew the difference between Jace being callous and Jace not knowing what to say to offer comfort.

“Sometimes.” Simon took a single piece of popcorn and glanced at Jace from the corner of his eyes.

Two seconds later Jace flinched and shot upright, slapping a hand down his face. “The fuck?”

Simon snorted and erupted into a fit of giggles.

“Did you just throw popcorn at me?”

“Come on, I need to tear you out of your brooding somehow!” Simon flung another piece of popcorn at Jace. It got stuck in his hair and Jace rolled his eyes, breathing deeply through his nose. Another one hit him between the eyes. “Stop!” Another one. “Brooding!” And another one, this time against his cheek.

“Stop throwing popcorn at me!”

“Make me,” Simon said and aimed again.

Jace’s Shadowhunter speed and reflexes made short work of the last attempt, and he tackled Simon in one fluid move, and pinned him to the sofa. Unfortunately he also knocked the bowl with the popcorn over, and because Simon was known for fighting unfairly, extremely so, he poked Jace in the ribs and they both landed arse over teakettle on the carpet, in a mess of limbs and popcorn and giggles.

“Man, that’s a waste of popcorn,” Simon said, picking a piece of Jace’s hair.

“I don’t like it, you can’t eat it, what’s the point?” Jace asked.

He was still on top of Simon, though, and was still more or less pinning him down.

“Nostalgia, I suppose,” Simon said, but before he could make another joke, Jace had picked the piece of popcorn from Simon’s finger with his lips.

“I thought…” Simon swallowed. “I thought you hate popcorn?”

“Yeah, but you love it.” Jace reached out and grabbed a handful of popcorn that he shoved into his mouth. He chewed industriously, swallowed, and gave Simon a slow, low-lidded smirk.

Simon had just time to close his eyes before Jace brought their lips together, in a kiss that was open-mouthed and hungry and made both of them gasp.

Jace broke the kiss and leaned back a little, the smirk on his face even wider.

“You taste of popcorn,” Simon whispered, not taking his eyes off Jace’s lips.

“Yeah, that was kind of the point,” Jace replied.

Their eyes met, but before things could escalate Simon’s phone went off. Jace let him go but took a second longer to roll off him than strictly necessary, and Simon grabbed his phone being slightly out of breath.

“Hey Izz!” A pause. “Yeah I know… I mean, Jace is…”

“We’re on our way!” Jace yelled from the background.

“We are?” Simon looked at him. “Well, I guess we are,” he then said to Izzy. “See you in a bit.”

He ended the call and looked at Jace again. “What happened to ‘I am too broody to go out and have fun’, huh?”

“Don’t know. Something cheered me up,” Jace said and got up. Deliberately slow, he stuffed another handful of popcorn into his mouth, eyes on Simon in a heated gaze.

Simon licked his lips, and dropped his phone before walking back to Jace with determined steps.

“Hey guys, you’re late!” Clary gave first Jace, then Simon a hug. “What happened?”

“Nothing,” Simon replied brightly.

Then Clary tilted her head and reached out. “Si, is that popcorn in your hair?”

“We were watching Netflix,” Simon said, his grin only slightly nervous now.

“But… why is it in your hair?” Clary looked at the piece of popcorn between her fingers.

“We got distracted,” Jace replied. “O-neg, Simon?”

Simon nodded, and Clary flung the piece of popcorn into the nearest ashtray.

“Distracted, huh?”

Unable to stop grinning, Simon could only shrug.

[coolmarriagerecords]

Johan Kugelberg's Top 100 DIY Singles

From Ugly Things via http://www.hyped2death.com/Kugelberg100.html

1. The Desperate Bicycles -The Medium Was Tedium (Refill Records, 1977 UK) The Desperate Bicycles are the yardstick for this obscurist sub genre. No one did it as easy or as cheap as them. Of the slew of unfathomable brilliant pop 45's, The Medium Was Tedium is the apex: The enthusiasm, anger and joy de vivre that oozes from the tracks contained within has me reaching for Village Green-Kinks and first album Cramps to describe the passion. For drunken, leftist dorm-room intellectuals to describe the faith and for Dez/Chavo-era Black Flag to describe the power ? notwithstanding that the recordings themselves are of 4-track bedroom shut-in lo-fi jangle. Too bad the band don't want the material re-released but a good thing indeed that the records barely rate at all in the collector scum price guide pantheon.

2. Beyond The Implode -Last Thoughts EP (Diverse Records UK 1979) Barrett/early-Floyd psych as good (or better) than any Soft Boys, obscurist strum & drang way more passionate than any Flying Nun band I've heard and Inflammable vocals of the purest Oxbridge confusion. The Spacemen 3 never did anything to match this record. [Messthetics #6]

3. V/A -Weird Noise EP (Fuck Off Records UK 1980) The legend doesn't start here, but at least this isn't a cassette-only release in an edition of 50 copies or so like the majority of the Fuck Off Records oeuvre. This lines up the finest advocates of tuneless bashing within the UK late 70's underground: The 012, Danny and the Dressmakers, the Instant Automatons, The Door and the Window and finally the Sell Outs who seem to be Danny and the Dressmakers under a different moniker. The cut "Please Don't Make Another Bass Guitar Mr. Rickenbacker" showcases one of the odder qualities popular music can have: The ability to disorientate the listener. "Simply the very best in bad music" indeed! [Danny...Messthetics Greatest Hits]

4. Desperate Bicycles ? New Cross, New Cross (Refill Records, UK 1978) The godlike power of "I Make The Product" or "Advice On Arrest" (two of the songs on this six song EP) deliver a little salvation of sorts ? the Desperate Bicycles make you believe, make you feel a sense of belonging. Music does that when it is this good. 5.Slugfuckers ? Three Feet Behind Glass EP (No label Australia 1979) Invoke the god Nyarlathotep they do, cover Manson-songs w/o ever having heard him they do, shmear on the middle class art school elitism thick they do. This is an extreme record; noisier and more abrasive than most first generation industrial stuff, a hell of a lot more punk than, say, the Lewd and intelligent in a scary, vicious bullying kind of way. A blazing, hard record at the same time as everything is slightly out of tune, kind of inept and sorta shoddy sounding.

6. Popes -Knup In Your Eye (Vatican Records. UK 1980) This appeared on the worldwide punk list a few issues ago, and educated guesses can be made for this appearing on any other lists I might do in the future. Not only is the record the cats pajamas as far as relentless art school mirth goes (Derek & Clive go through puberty, again!) but the throb and spark of the band makes for repeated play. And then we have to tag on the swollen nostalgia of my friend buying the only copy at the Rough trade shop in 1980 leaving me with none until Bill Forsyth digs one up for me in his back room, oh yeah, and one for Geoffrey too.

7. The Flak -EP (Northern Records UK 1980 (?)) Starts with a depressed "why am I here" poem and moves straight along into "Knocking on Heaven's Door" done dorm-angst-diy-style. This is followed by what sounds like the band attempting a Joy Division-style song the first time they pick up musical instruments. Completely inept, utterly charming and brilliant indeed. Top shelf genre defining DIY.

8. Fatal Microbes -Beautiful Pictures (Small Wonder, UK 1979) Certainly the best record with Honey Bane on it. Charming, relentless punk-crazed homemade guitar crunch. The window of opportunity of the UK underground musicscene in the late 70's is clearly demonstrated here: I doubt the Fatal Microbes stupendous teen energy could have been nurtured in the world of merchandising deals and first-look demo A&R we live in today.

9. The Silver -Do You Wanna Dance (Black Label Finland 1980) The Silver -No More Grease (Black Label Finland 1979) A riddle wrapped inside an enigma etc. The band appears to be around 12 ? 13 years old. They hail from Finland where the trail grew cold a long long time ago. Maybe upon the release of the record. Pussy Galore without post-modern baggage. "Love Theme from the Snails" as performed by SPK. 12 year olds virtually destroying a recording studio captured on tape, not once but four times.

10. Instant Automatons -Peter Paints His Fence EP (Deleted Records UK 1980) More Fuck Off/Street Level-related sublime nonsense. The battle call is the track "People Laugh At Me Cuz I Like Weird Music" which states: "I was at a pub the other night, when a bunch of mods came in, they eyed me up, then they asked me: Hey man what's your scene? Are you a hippie a mod or a punk? Got a scooter or a motorbike? I can't understand why they burst out laughing when I told them the music I like, because: People Laugh At Me Cuz I Like Weird Music People just don't understand Why pay six pounds for an album when you can, listen to a weird noise band for free I had a girlfriend named Josephine, she liked Abba and the Bee Gees. She thought music was about lawyers and accountants, percentages and legal fees. Just the other night we stayed up late, playing records til half past ten, then I played the Danny and the Dressmakers tape and I never saw Josephine again, because: People Laugh At Me Cuz I Like Weird Music People just don't understand Why pay six pounds for an album when you can, listen to a weird noise band for free" The gospel, folks. From God's mouth to your ear via the Instant Automatons. [Instant Automatons 'Another Wasted Sunday Afternon' CD]

11. Sir Alick and the Phraser -In Search of the Perfect Baby (Black Noise UK 1980) As Chuck Warner put it: They wrote beautiful pop songs then destroyed them. More Homosexuals pseudonymous mystique. The intelligent reader who followed our previous musings on this band and their universe know how much we love them and how much they perpetually pull our collective leg. No straight-ahead answers in this lifetime which is fine ? fine as far as record collecting is concerned, fine as far as lifemanship is concerned.[The Homosexuals -Astral Glamour 3CD]

12. The Four Plugs -Biking Girl (Disposable Records UK 1979) The subtle charm of marginal culture: Truly marginal culture where 1000 singles were pressed more than 22 years ago. How many got lost? How many are never being played? How many are stored in a box in the attic? How many are being played repeatedly on turntables that cost ten times as much as the recording and pressing of this given 45? "She used to be my biking partner ? she used to be my biking girl. We used to go for rides in the country side". A true punk rock/diy statement issued by the Damaged Goods people, who knew their Chesterton and Thomas Browne.

13. The Evening Outs -Channel (Refill Records UK 1980) Super-fierce skronk from a pissed-off pseudonymous Desperate Bicycles. Puts that no wave stuff to shame, really.

14. Puritan Guitars -100 Pounds in 15 Minutes (Riverside Records UK 1980) How much it cost to make the record and how long it took. Genius sturm und sturm und sturm und drang clank from a seriously inspired one chord wonder.[Messthetics Greatest Hits and Messthetics #104]

15. The Flying Brix -EP (Modello Records UK 1980) So subtle it can barely be heard: A band consisting of Wally's and Erberts, with the odd dead-end yob or two. This record could've been released by Illegal, Fuck Off or fit in on Carry On Oi. It could also have been performed on an episode of Noddy or by Flanagan & Allen. Ur-English music, this.[Messthetics #104]

16. Shrinking Men/Beevers -Hazards in the Home EP (Pop Records UK 1981) The Beevers present a Guthrie-esque talking blues here, except that it isn't a blues, but a charming DIY-shuffle, and that Woody Guthrie as far as I know never sang about the plight and blight of the office boy. The Shrinking Men in turn showcase an angry, loutish anti-army rant that Phil Ochs would've been pretty proud of I think. And there you have it: The folk music connection rears its uncombed head. [Beevers -Messthetics #6]

17. Handgrenades -Demo To London (Phonographics (?) USA 1980 (?)) Coulda fooled me ? Excellent primitive punk/chug/diy from Noo Yak City! Who woulda thunk? Somewhere between "Pink Flag" and Fuck Off Records.

18. Homosexuals -You Are Not Moving The Way You Are Supposed To (Black Noise UK 1980 (?)) An untouchable band, and the lack of a retrospective isn't much of a crime in this house (I have lots of their records snicker snicker snicker) but in other people's houses it sure is. As if Gang of Four would've been any good, as if Wire would've immersed themselves in dub, as if indeed. Parallel universe chart toppers indeed. We all know that there is at least one world out there in the ultra-cosmos where the proverbial kids are kicking these jams daily. A truly inspired and inspiring record..[The Homosexuals -Astral Glamour 3CD]

19. Cindy and the Barbi Dolls -Press The Shutter EP (A Not Major Production UK 1980) Dorm angst at its very best. Dark, brooding overtly romantic without gothing it up, these jams have the same lurking power as the pre-Joy Division Warsaw EP or the spookier first line up Soft Boys tracks. A possible sister band to Beyond the Implode in the sense that they play a curiously British form of psychedelic music in the midst of the DIY lack of musical chops. This Cornwall band were seemingly very hip to musical peers, thanking the Desperate Bicycles, the Mekons and Ralph and the Ponytails on the sleeve. There are musical (and one lyrical) nod to the Kinks "Village Green Preservation Society" as well. A very good thing. [Messthetics #7]

20. Versatile Newts -Newtrition (Shanghai Records UK 1980) If this record hadn't existed we would've had to invent it: The marriage/blend of the Swell Maps, This Heat and the TV Personalities. In equal chunks with no lumps. Gadzooks! [Messthetics #103]

21. Pink Dirt -Hey Sir (No label Norway 1979) As far as inept, crazed joi de vivre goes ? Here's the acme. I've written this one up before and will do it again. While this is obviously a straight-ahead angry punk rock band, the abandon and enthusiasm of this record could raise the dead. An angry rant against organized religion ("I have this to say tonight ? never, never get involved with christianity!") howled in a barely English Johnny Rotten-imitation by some Norwegian genius backed by shitrock more primitive than the first Endless Boogie rehearsal. There is no sleeve, no labels, just the legend "Pink Dirt Hey Sir/Hooker" scrawled in magic marker. Who were these gods and why did they walk among us? Please email me if you know anything about the people behind this stunning art experience.

22. Scrotum Poles -Revelation EP (One Tone Records Scotland 1980) Helicopter Honeymoon is going to be played at least three record collector funerals I know of, not including mine. The mighty, mighty Scrotum Poles, proudly proclaiming "DIY! We love the TV Personalities" on the shoddy, xeroxed sleeve. Their website (http://home.switchboard.com/hornstreet) is highly recommended, though we're hesitant to vouch for its complete veracity. Here's how they tell it: "'Pick the Cats Eyes Out' featured lyrics found on the back of a set list by one of the first Dundee punk bands, Bread Poultice and the Running Sores..." [Somebody please send us a demo tape!] "Helicopter Honeymoon," meanwhile, came from a headline "in the Sunday Post." What we should add for American fans is that "cats eyes" are what Brits (and Scots) call those little orange reflectors embedded in highway pavement: "Cats Eyes Out Ahead" used to be a common roadside sign. [Messthetics Greatest Hits and Messthetics #105]

23. File Under Pop -Corrugate (Rough Trade UK 1979 (?)) Godlike DIY power. Primitive grunting, out of tune skeletal instrumentation and noises recorded at Heathrow. I know a guy with an extra copy who'll swap it for Butchy Butch and the Butch Butchers.

24. Nancy Sesay and the Melodaires -C'est Fab (It's War Boys UK 1981 (?)) Un-musical, un-punk and possibly unpleasant music hall-esque skronk/DIY by the godlike Homosexuals using one of their myriad of pseudonyms. And whence you can't imagine the doofus art wank getting any more unlistenable, they spin on a dime and throw in a beautiful chorus sitting on top of a backwardsy funky drummer beat. I am, as per usual, in awe. Shall I hook some enterprising young bootlegger up with a CDR of all their stuff?

25. Performing Ferret Band -Brow-Beaten (Dead Hippy Records UK 1981) Deeply moving primitive musical fumble from this rare 45 by the masters behind the in my mind most seminal LP to come out of DIY. The eponymous Performing Ferret Band LP, which features jaw-droppers such as "Plastic Macho Man", "Fizzly Drinks" or "Great Duos Of Our Time". Fantastic over-enthusiastic juvenilia of an almost supernatural beauty. The Performing Ferrets - no one told us CD (Messthetics #216)

26. Different Eyes/Royston - Shish EP (Tuzmadoner Records UK 1979) One of the two masterpieces released on the Tuzmadoner label (the other being a 12" comp entitled, uh, "folk music" bringing up more parallels to skiffle that we should probably choose to ignore). Royston are like Flanagan & Allen fronting the world's greatest shit rock band. Different Eyes sound more lethargic than anyone else I've heard I think, and I used to work for Pavement's label. Simon Gilham from either Royston or the 'Eyes later played in Colin Newman's solo band. [Royston -Messthetics Greatest Hits and #1; Different I's -Messthetics #101 (plus their even better track from Folk Music)]

27. Homosexuals -Hearts In Exile (Black Noise UK 1978) Words fail me. As far as beauty goes, this is like Mozart or Shirley Collins. Probably their greatest moment. Somewhere along the lines of Brill Building and traditional UK folk and the Upsetters and ESP Records all at once in perfect harmony. A milestone, I think, and a record that I'd place in a timecapsule of 20th century folk art.[The Homosexuals -Astral Glamour 3CD]

28. Andrew Klimek -Felt Hammer (Mustard Records USA 1979) The guitar break alone sends this one soaring over the sky scrapers. Has that patented and most beautiful basement 4-track sound down pat even though I get more and more convinced that all those legendary Cleveland bands all were record collector rock of the umpteenth degree. Extraordinarily self-aware, sly and with meticulously thought out records, this one being no exception. The pompous liner notes on the sleeve of the 45 proves me right. You got to be some kind of Apples in Stereo-type shmuck to brag on a record sleeve that you put the bass guitar through a ring modulator.

29. Mekons -Never Been In A Riot (Fast Records UK 1978) Way before they became icky hippy-punk icons for aging counter culture types across the world they released a couple of singles of gorgeous nihilist slop. This is the first, and the funniest and the noisiest.

30. Jelly Babies -De Nada EP (No label name UK 1981) Simply heaven. A clumsy speed-chug with lyrics about a day of roller-skating and lovely pre-pubescent boozy backing vocals. Genius. Extra-tinny sound, extra passionate execution. I've quoted this portion of the notes on the (shoddy xerox, natch) sleeve: "Recorded at Dirt Cheap Studios, the best studios in the whole wide world by Grant Showbiz, the most silly person in the whole wide world, who steals your food and has a nice red guitar with a super tremelo arm which somebody gave him." Like Blake, the words transcend space, time and mortality. You need this record. Crunchy granola collectors should also note that I have personally seen at least five different (shoddy xerox) picture sleeves for this record where the priority can be determined with relative accuracy using the carbon 14 method. [one from the EP is coming on London v.III: another song from the EP demos appears on Messthetics Greatest HISS (Messthetics #110)

31. Thin Yoghurts -Girl On the Bus (Lowther Street Runner Records UK 1980) More sing-a-longa-slop-charm. You can take the limey out of the music hall but you can't Cute, touching and romantic lyrics about lusting over some tasty lassie on the bus to the kippers factory. They did this record as well as a cassette, which is a hundred bucks in your sweaty palm, if you send it to me. [Messthetics Greatest Hits]

32. Lucky Pierre -This Could Be The Night (No label USA 1984 (?)) Scuzzy, phenomenal art-rant by some Ohio Bowie-boy who'd re-record these musical chairs of Chain Gang, Klaus Nomi and cocaine freebase ten years later for Trent Reznor's label adding a "industrial dance beat" to the mess and changing the band name to Prick. Supposedly (some record-log-pincher told me) there were only 50 copies pressed for Lucky Pierre to use as record deal bait (also the reason that the lyrics are etched on the flip together with a ten second excerpt of the song). Well, I guess it worked. I seem to recall seeing a video for the re-recorded version on MTV during ol' Pierre's 15 seconds in the spotlight. The awe-inspiring power of this record remains tho'.

33. Skabb -78 EP (Mistlur Sweden 1978) Track 2 side one is jaw-dropping Opus-style DIY-crunch punk with Kriminella Gitarrer-guitar breaks. I can't believe this isn't a hotly pursued record by herd-following punk rock turd-swallowers round the globe. Fantastic slop-o-rama-lama-fa-fa-fa production too.

34. V/A -Angst In My Pants double EP (Street Level UK 1979) Imagine how good the previous 33 records on this list are, as I guarantee by risk of punishment of rock writer hyperbole, that this is doubtlessly one of the finest records I've ever heard, and the second greatest compilation in the history of rock! How can I say this wonders Rutger the Punk from his bedroom in Krakow ? Well the proof is in the pudding: Not only does the record include some of the finest recorded moments by the legendary Instant Automatons (who unknowingly channel the Monks!), 012 and the Door and the Window, but furthermore a rare vinyl appearance by the Digital Dinosaurs, heralded by me, Mario and Geoffrey in that most smug sort of way as unheralded gods of music! If that ain't enough you get some fine TVP-related spurts from the Missing Persons and extremely do it yourself DIY frenzy from the Midnight Circus. Who in "Silicone Baby" and "Hedonist Jive" have out-poignanted a tow-truck full of Aimee Mann's and Michelle Shocked's edgy humanity and funny as shit to boot. [Digital Dinsaurs and Instant Automatons are on Messthetics Greatest Hits: Midnight Circus have their own CD...And there's more on Deleted/Street Level at the Instant Automatons website]

35. Pleemobielz -Dagenlang Balen (Kamikaze Records Holland 1981) More sociological sloganeering a la Midnight Circus here: Dagenlang Balen which needlessly translates as "fuck all day" roars through the speakers with all the might of a bunch of over-testosteroned 16 year old virgins singing about what they think it'll be like to have sex some day. Tinniest sound in history. When a copy finally showed up on my doorstep after the fucking (literally!) record had spent a solid 10 years on my want list my expectations were quite low since anyone I had talked to who had heard the record all stated that it was weak/a waste of time etc. Well: It being a want list staple has more to do with the scarcity of the disc than it being a desirable punk rock record. However: It is an extremely desirable record if frenzied DIY bliss is your chosen poison.

36. Just Urbain -Guns & Guitars (No label Australia 1979) Another amazing DIY record from Australia, this one definitely sports a spiritual kinship with SPK, the Slugfuckers, the first Thought Criminals record, and those Systematics and Tactics records I need to find. Very dark, scuzzy art-damaged DIY that (a la Cabaret Voltaire or early SPK) is well aware of the fine krautrock musics coming out of Germany on Ohr or Sky a few years previously. The proto punk of say Neu or Cosmic Jokers is here handled with poisonous skronky passion.

37. The Gags -Sex Ist Schau (Leg Auf Records Germany 1981) And then one has to simply wonder if the belly laughs generated by this piece of vinyl have racist connotations: How much are we allowed to laugh at the Germans? This might be the stiffest record I've heard. The vocals lyrical bark manages to reanimate Basil Fawlty's classic performance in the "Germans" episode as well as the Sprockets. The jams are crazed. Stiff, yes, but crazed.

38. Desperate Bicycles -Smokescreen (Refill Records UK 1977) Their debut, more aggressive than a lot of the other classics and maybe it was the year. This is the 45 that launched hundreds of others: Two songs on one side to save mastering costs, the cheapest packaging, music that had to be documented, and it didn't matter if it was done in the cheapest and easiest way imaginable. [Messthetics #8]

39. Butter Utter -Jävlarnas Jul (Leonid Breznjev Records Swe 1977) Took me ages to find this one. Extremely inept, Shaggs-like fumble with a certain Je Ne Sais Qui of punk rock aggression. A lot of Killed by Death-types paid a lot of moola for this one, that some guy hyped to the moon in a Boston straight-edge fanzine back in the 80's. Only truly "punk" in the musical disaster sense of the word.

40. Cut-Outs -DIY (EMI UK 1979) Great novelty pop monster complete with carpentry noises. Possibly not a DIY record at all, but since the genre is made up by people like me this is a DIY record cuz I sez so. [NOT on Messthetics #7]

41. Massmedia ? EP (Massproduktion Swe 1979) Debut sloppiness from future KBD mainstays. There is no discernable musical ability to be found on this record and yet they play and play and play. The energy level is however awe-inspiring.

42. Dagens Ungdom -EP (Mistlur Swe 1980) Having an art school wank with Dagens Ungdom. Brilliant faux-DIY released on one of the major noo wave era indie labels of Sweden, home of Ebba Gron. All songs have titles nabbed from Kafka books, lyrics are more adjective heavy than a tub full o' Morrisey and the music is flawless DIY stumble n' fumble.

43. The Discounts -Selling Records (Original Records UK 1980) Blank 1000-yard stare DIY novelty straight out of High Fidelity. The lyric is a monologue as by a bored-to-tears record store clerk. The jams are sub-sub-sub-Blockheads DIY stumble. Extremely amusing.

44. Grinder Wickford's So Boring -EP (Wax Records UK 1979) Forget punk rock, bring in hick-rock! The aliases of the band read: "Dav-Id, Si-Kic, Terry-Ball, Stu-Pid and Holy-Grail"!. Three band members have moustaches! The singer is wearing a Rocky Horror t-shirt! The a-side is a "humorous" ditty about the acne problem of Spiderman, reflecting the sleeve front depicting some fool in a Spiderman costume driving a tractor, The b-side is an anti-fuzzy dice song. Genius. It is obvious to me that Wickford wasn't boring at all as long as you hung out with the bold gents of Grinder. The songs range from primitive clunky riff-rock to DIY jangle of the highest order. Messthetics #101

45. Psykik Volts -Totally Useless (Ellie Jay Records UK 1979) More Music Hall-punk DIY genius. The spirit of Vivian Stanshall is looming large; as is the empty pint glasses littering the room as this 45 is stuck on repeat. All together now: "It's to-tal-ly useless"!! The sleeve bears the legend: "Side A: recorded in a sock, Side B: recorded in a morgue. May god bless vocalist and songwriter Victor Vendetta. Now pardon me while I go to the corner and cry.

46. Raisinets -More Fun To Play Than To Listen To (Fun-Ethic Records USA 1979) Fantastic record-collector hippie-punk a la Gizmos/Afrika Korps/Half Japanese. Primitive guitar duets complete with questionable production values and mucho muchacho helpings of pure static. Great post-arrest pre-OD lyrics making fun of Sid too.

47. Dag Vag -Dimma (Ball Records Swe 1978) Two years after this record was released, Dag Vag were playing new wave-scented white-boy reggae to sell-out crowds all over Sweden. This, however, is a one-man band bedroom project by a Träd Gräs & Stenar roadie who had discovered punk rock and the DIY scene. Beautiful dark/sinister home studio atmospherics, killer fuzz guitar and demented lyrics about psychiatric care and drug experiences. A great record. And by all means: Don't buy any other Dag Vag records after you've obtained this one.

48. I Jog & the Tracksuits - Redbox (Tyger Label UK 1978) More lost artform unique stumble-rumble from the UK. Sounds like it was recorded under water this one. A petty miracle of a pop tune with a sublime lyric about waiting for the bus. Gotta bless em for the stamina it takes to get a record out: Recording, Mixing, Mastering, Designing, Printing, Approving, Distributing, Balancing. All to get a little song about missing the bus heard by me 22 years later.

49. Injections -Prison Walls (Radioactive Records USA 1980) This has always been an extremely desired and expensive record in KBD/Japanese Tasty/Moustache circles, and it doubtlessly deserves its inflated price tag even though we aren't talking chainsaw-buzz punk rock per se here.

50. Devils Hole Gang -Free The People (Slow Burning Fuse Records UK 1979) Huge moustaches, huge choruses, and a record that sounds like it was recorded inside one of those Moroccan hotel showers that basically consist of a huge tube of aluminum siding. My pretentious nature is such that I feel forced to unleash the folk art metaphor for this again. If your friendly neighborhood rare record dealer charges you a couple of C-notes for this and you feel like your being had for big G's by the sleaze, then remember that you are investing in art, not buying a record!!

51. Funboy Five -Life After Death (Cool-Cat Daddy-O Records UK 1980) A pure pop record indeed, but where pricey production values would've turned this into a memorable Stiff Records 45, the band's lack of bucks and resulting throwaway/enthusiasm production and energy has created a masterpiece. Both sides are stalwarts for a neighborhood sing-song or a rousing music hall chorus. Punk rock music hall: A genre waiting to happen again! [Messthetics #101]

52. How To Get Rich In Rotterdam - Dapper Dan (Vormgeving Rotterdam Records Netherlands 1981) Brilliant, plodding art-slop that reeks of inside jokedom. This record is a reason unto itself to pay ebay prices for vintage drum machines.

53. Come -Come Sunday (Come Organization UK 1979) Before William Bennett became the Benny Hill of industrial noise, his band Whitehouse were called Come and released a single and an album which both are quite lovely homemade art-dirge crankiness, a friendly psychedelic kind of crankiness indeed.

54. The Riotous Brothers -Vicki's Dancing (Riotous Records 1980) How all these disparate bands came up with a sound this cohesive is a mystery to me. Any of the hints handed to us through fanzines and interviews only mess things up further: Yes, anyone could form a band, make a record, start a record label indeed. Where it gets weird is why so many of them harbor a similar tinny guitar sound, cardboard-y drums, messy synths, inept recording techniques, smart-assed lefty lyrics and nasal singing tone. This was not a movement. It was just a bunch of stuff that happened. That's all. This record has the beautiful simplicity of a Shaker chair or a Maine seafood soup. The swanky speedpunk of "Operation Zero" or the plink-a plunk-a guitar solo on "Emotional Cripple" will some day have their own wing at the Victoria and Albert museum. Make my art primitive!

55. Partizans -Goods (A-Noyz Records UK 1980) Chain Gang's retarded English cousins. Ace!!

56. Amor Fati -Economics 100 (Yuck/Flesh Records USA 1984 (?) Very angry anti-r&r/anti-big-business slightly tongue in cheek rant that shows spiritual kinship to "Rat City" by the Art Attacks. Vertical Slit/V-3. The odd blend of wanting in, wanting to play the game and wanting to stay the fuck away that is symptomatic for a lot of Ohio underground musicians (Shepard, Hummel, House etc.)

57. Desperate Bicycles -Skill (Refill Records UK 1978) Blazing DIY-shuffle and unmistakenly Bicycles. More pro production which has this one slip further down the list. Still godlike though.

58. Sarah Coffman -Titta Jag Ar Död (Konkurrenz Rekårdz Sweden 1980) Excellent primitive shit-rock by band from my hometown!

59. Hornsey At War -Deadbeat Revival EP (War Product UK 1979) Extremely amusing ultra-sloppy DIY. No discernable production values, sound-as-filtered-through-ground-beef, emotionally charged out-of-tune vocals, crackly guitar (broken cable?) and a true aura of dead end yobs (and jobs) instead of the more common middle class art school vibe as prevailing on most DIY records. Hornsey At War are complaining about English radio too: "They won't play this record on the radio because it poses a threat!" Here tis again: That charming blend of hubris and defeatist that seems to penetrate the psyches of most people involved in underground music and/or collectors of it.

60. Take It -How It Is (Fresh Hold UK 1979) Stunning out of control DIY/noise not unlike a more frenzied Soft Boys, a more good Gang of Four or a less psychotic SPK. Igor and Simon seem like a couple of gents with some hardcore political and intellectual pursuits, and like the Desperate Bicycles before them I sense that the choice of releasing a noisy cheaply recorded 45 with a xerox cover was an act of some sort of political defiance, back in the day where such an act was not co-opted from the ground up by extreme sports and Wall Mart hair dye. [Messthetics Greatest Hits and Messthetics #2]

61. Rough Cuts EP (Z-Block Records UK 1980) Inspired sampler of four bands (The Boywonders, The Ghoulies, The Czechs and the Decadent Few) two of which tell us their age on the cover (The Boywonders are all 16, The Czechs are all 17). Humbling thought that such musical spirit could be mustered at such a tender age. Great variety of flavors too: The Boywonders great inept, spooky DIY strut where the band might think that a reggae influence is prevailing, us knowing that the stumbleblock shuffle bears more resemblance to ancient Celtic airs, the unbearable beauty of the Czechs utter disregard of tone, meter and signatures or the Ghoulies oddly Booker T-esque chug n' scrape. The business, all and all. [Boywonders and Czechs on Messthetics #104: The Z-Block Story is here]

62. The Petticoats -Normal (Bla-Bla-Bla Records UK 1980) Ripping good-kind-feminist anti-normalcy rant. Spiritually uplifting in a way not dissimilar to first-hand experience of medieval church architecture, I shit you not. Recorded at Street Level which means that this record is Fuck Off Records related.

63. Reducers -We Are Normal (Vibes Product UK 1978) The sub genre Geoff Weiss-punk is hereby coined to describe this record. High-energy ineptitude. There is a strange kinship to the Pink Fairies/Deviants axis on this record ? A similarity in energy and attack, notwithstanding that the Reducers really don't know how to play their instruments very well. [Messthetics #1]

64. Il Ya Volkswagens - Kill Myself (Mechanical Reproductions UK 1981) One more year in the rehearsal space for these guys and I wouldn't be writing this. Discernable elements of gothrock and Bauhaus influence can be noticed as a faint vapor in this aural air to speak it in goth-speak, the crunch of the slightly sour guitar, the plodd of the (genius) bass line and the all-in slouch of the lethargic vocalist and the cracked-everyday electronics elevates this dirge into an 18 carat DIY-cruncher.

65. Quite Ridiculous Nonsense -Identity Crisis (No Label USA 1984) Most ace industrial wank of that rare late 70's variety. Wildly entertaining experiments in four track flatulence and transistor radio static.

66. Pervers/Deutscher Abschaum split 7" (Suff Productions Germany 1984) The Godhead. Reminds me of Teddy and the Fratgirls or the Foams in the sense that one gets the notion that these must have been fun gals to hang out with or date. The timeless splendor of the arty urban misfit girl: Her goofy charm and no-holds-barred enthusiasm for all that she found weird, interesting or sexually appetizing. A toast to the art school weirdo outcast girls of the world: May they forever paint their room black or read Hermann Hesse to you in bed! The music is wild, out of control amateuristic slop goes from Electric Eels fuzzed out haterock to drumkits thrown down the stairs to minimal teen-angst and then back. Beautiful stuff. Got this in trade from Thurston Snore for some boring free jazz records back in the day. What a chump!

67. The Prats -Disco Pope (Rough Trade UK 1979) 15-year old Scottish schoolboy punks seething with rage over the demon disco. Early Downliners Sect-style one chord R&B shuffle complete with the drum breaks that made God decide not to spare humanity. Don't miss it!

68. Plast -EP (Stranded Rekords Swe 1979) Four song EP of the finest in teenage punks attempting to embrace the confusion in their head from listening to TG, Cabaret Voltaire and Pere Ubu. An ungodly racket where the hostility of the chosen sounds meets the cozy ineptitude of the random noises. Plenty of short-wave noises and the crappiest of synths. Utterly charming.

9. Raincoats -Fairytale in the Supermarket (Rough Trade UK 1979) All enthusiasm/zero chops Ubu-esque DIY-charm from these stunning ladies. This is the best of their many records. Some kinda CD anthology that I can't find right now was released in the USA on the basis of Kurt Cobain being a big fan.

70. Tone Deaf and the Idiots -Why Does Politics Turn Men Into Toads? (Blue Angel UK 1979) Tone Deaf and the Idiots how do I love thee. This flexi is taken from their debut album Catastrophe Rock which still stands alongside the Damian & the Criterions "Avant Garde", Alvaro's Drinking My Own Sperm and Kräldjursanstalten's Voodoo Boogie as peerless monuments of original thought as far as late 70's underground albums are concerned. Catastrophe rock indeed. This is what "Music from the Big Pink" would've sounded like if it had been performed by the Portsmouth Sinfonia.

71. Desperate Bicycles -Grief Is Very Private (Refill UK 1980) One of the mighty Bicycles more introspective and subtle moments. Their entire recorded output is well worth hearing, and the range of emotions they paint from their palate quite astounding.

72. Door and the Window -I Like the Sound (NB Records UK 1979) One of many brilliant anti-music art school rants by the grand old daddies of the very genre. They like sound, they don't like the Pop Group, they like noise (um yeah!), they don't like butter The list goes on and I can't say that I reached any enlightenment as such by the end of this demented scratchy noise-fumble. But the journey sure was great.

73. Slugfuckers -Instant Classic (PRS Australia 1979) Homosexuals-y whiteguy funk/noise fracture that Liquid Liquid would've been pretty stoked about. Screeching scrape and dumb jokey asides. Who could ask for anything more?

74. Happy Cadavers -Nothing New (Undefined Records UK 1982) Punk/wave slop from the Midwest ? kind of aims for the Stranglers but hits Small Wonder Records. Charming stuff. Give me a fake English accent any day.

75. The Reflections - 4 Countries (Cherry Red UK 1981) Coulda been by the Desperate Bicycles this: stop/start gurgling plodding slop with most excellent Mark P. whining on top. Patented Karl Blake crumble-o-rific drumming not to mention the ambience added by the illustrious Nag of Door and the Window celebrity status. The Reflections album is well worthy of your grease as well as it is more of the same DIY-gunk but with a more contempo Recommended Records-type sound. [Messthetics #1]

76. Reacta -Stop the World (Battery Operated Records UK 1979) Another one that demands the Desperate Bicycles as cultural cookie cutter ? A beautiful ramble with the edgy guitars of Hilton Bomber-Thought Criminals.[Messthetics Greatest Hits]

77. Crash Action Winners - Hurricane Fighter Plane (Sonic International UK 1979) Somewhere in this mess of static and filtered mud are the chord-change(s) of "Hurricane Fighter Plane". The sleeve hints at the band being American, the sounds point straight in the direction of an English middle class art school, and the record cover furthermore defines them as a bunch of record collectors to boot. Not only is a Roky Erickson tune given the same crap-o-riffic sonic treatment, but the shoddy crumb-bum picture sleeve showcases record covers by the Seeds, the 13th Floor Elevators, Russ Meyer and Question Mark and the Mysterians displayed in tasteful collage form. Messthetics #104

78. The Plastic Mechanical Pig -Book Brains (IX Recording Company Japan 1981) Tricky one here, Ricky and Paul, the two guys on the cover of the PMP 45, look like a couple of student teachers and the record sounds like a couple of student teachers recorded a Raisinets/Half Japanese hybrid on a primitive 4 track. Charming record this, with two folky DIY-punk cuts, but why on earth was it released in Japan?

79. V/A - Mell Square Musick EP (Yaw Records UK 1979) I've listened to this record a good dozen times or so, and my jaw still drops. Frenzied homemade punk where the energy could light up a medium-size town. Similar to the Tandstickorshocks, Seems Twice or Red Cross "Born Innocent" LP in its instinctive disregard for notes, chords and melody, the Accused or the 021 are more than deserving of particularly exquisite golden wings in the halls of the Valhalla of Amateurism. I bow my head. [Cracked Actor Messthetics #7; Accused and 021 - Messthetics #103]

80. Tandstickorshocks - Allan Vogalan (King Kong Records Holland 1980) The Dutch Puritan Guitars right here, it is almost spooky how similar the sound of the two bands is. Spinning these 45's makes me wonder if this music somehow managed to sidestep rock & roll and the black music tradition as a core influence. There is something about the Tandstickorshocks which at the same time manages to remind me of Schoenberg, microtonal composers and Irish tin-whistle folk music. This is, needless to say, evidence that I should get out more often, but also that these slices of true-life counterculture juvenilia are not isolated from a cultural context, but embracers of it. Even if it did take a couple of decades for these records to be collected in some kind of organized manner. The kids in Tandstickorshocls must have been aware of Wire and the Young Marble Giants, but the minimal primitive music they create is original in the same manner as the artists on Pat Conte's "Secret Museum of Mankind" compilations.

81. Foams - Paint Me (Pet Me Quick Records USA 1981) A classic of sorts. Frenzied, inept live recordings by this all-girl Austin Texas punk band. The only way that I can explain the similarities to the Slits or the Raincoats are that gals sure have a different way of looking at things, or at least playing drums. Great smutty lyrics and barky art-school vox too.

82. SST -Clutch On the Ward (Tidal Wave Records USA 1977) Super-inept hippie punk/DIY from California with lotsa early punk scenesters name-checked on the sleeve. Ted Falconi pre-Flipper on guitar.

83. The Simple Approach to Newtown Products EP (NTP Records UK 1980) My approach was to pay the inflated price the dealer was asking and happily walk home with this great record. 4 songs, four bands: Crimedesk are toilet-recorded DIY-slop, Basic Unit must be the most amateuristic goth band I've ever heard, Beat Necessity showcase only the finest in tuneless death-dirge with off-key howling and Story So Far is an awesome Joy Division/Factory Records attempt, but with no discernable musical talent. Needless to say, the whole EP is as charming as the day is long.

84. Hörförståelse -Förläst Jävel (CTR Sweden 1980) Demented art skronk of drums, bass and crap keyboards featuring out of tune vocals regurgitating about someone being an over-educated bastard. Perfect, really. A must for fans of primitive shit music.

85. What To Wear - Casual But Smart EP (Basic and Typical Records UK 1980 (?)) Inspired stumble as an attempt to play dub, The Homosexuals can do it ? These guys can't. I don't know if this given failure brought about something new, but this record is a very listenable stab at atmosphere by a DIY band with limited budget and equipment. The flip also contains a couple of amazing speed-pop DIY-rambles. [ Messthetics #104]

86. Contact -Future (Object Music UK 1979) An avantfied klutz by a band who probably wanted to be Tubeway Army one thinks as one gazes upon the sleeve. They move from sloppy pro-rock attempts to full-on art-noise to excellent DIY jingle and jangle. One of many excellent items on the Object label. [ Messthetics #106 and Messthetics #7]

87. Good Missionaries -Deranged in Hastings (Unnormality Records UK 1979) A great stop/start hiccup with the patented GM/ATV tinny guitars and peripheral production. What makes this stand out is that barely concealed aggression, like a slow fuse or something.

88. The Potent Human EP (L'Aventure Records UK 1980) I maintain, and not only because of my middle class lifestyle, that the Bathroom Renovations is the greatest band name in the history of rock. This EP is a four out of four winner. Brilliant DIY fumble from The Mekon (no relation), The Liggers , The Spurtz and the ultra-wah-wah power of the Bathroom Renovations. Let me type that again: Bathroom Renovations. [Liggers: Messthetics #106]

89. Disco Zombies -Here Comes the Buts (Dining Out Records UK 1980) This is my favorite of their three spectacular singles. Thw thuick brogue of an accent blends in a most interesting way with the crappy guitar and dull throb of the melody line or the voluptous Steve Severin-style bass line.

90. Record Players -Double C Side EP (Wreckord Records UK 1978) The Record Players came from Kent, which mustered a bit of a mod scene a couple years later, but otherwise wasn't much of a factor in the punk (or DIY) world. Here they've mustered up an anti-MOR rant with a chorus that comes off kind of, eh, MOR-sounding. Imagine the classic DIY trashing, bashing and gnashing, but with one big ol' chorus, and the most obvious bridge you'll ever hear. "Ignore Us" on the flip is self-defeatist art that'll piss all over any Magnetic Fields as far as smug self-hatred goes. "It's just one thing you gotta do if you want to move along, ignore the music and ignore this song ? Ignore us and we might go away". How about that. [Messthetics #1]

91. Boys and Girls Come Out and Play EP (Boys and Girls Records UK 1980) Might be a grade school project this one, and not an art school project. Bands like the Human Cabbages, The Profile and The Famous Five are very young sounding. The fragile beauty of these tunes remind me of the UK Voice of the People anthologies of field recordings of folk songs. The purity, private nature of the songs and homemade-ness makes for a truly intimate, moving listening experience. The people on this record should be proud of this slice of juvenalia 20-odd years later.[Profile -Messthetics #103 -also a Human Cabbages song]

92. False Idols -Ego Wino (Old Knew Wave Records UK 1980) Paul Morotta's unknown English nephews. This could be a Poli Styrene Jass Band outtake. Great, spazzy DIY with jazzy chording and great, supressed aggression.

93. Bandage -Republik (Bandage Records Sweden 1978) Seems as if the average age of the band members is 16 or so, and that the mere existence of this record points to the purest and most blissfully unaware state of do it yourself: Some kids in a suburb of Stockholm getting turned on by punk rock and the notion of releasing their own record. The four songs are all fuzzed out riff rock, not unlike say, the Crucified EP, but the poor quality of recording, sound separation, levels and what have you is why the record is mentioned on this list. Not that any of that was done on purpose, mind you, for any DIY-ethic of sorts. Necessity and gratification and all that good stuff.

94. 49 Americans -Big Value (NB Records UK 1979) Another hidden Fuck Off Records release? The 49 Americans certainly moved in the same circles, and furthermore share plenty of aesthetic choices with Danny and the Dressmakers or the Instant Automatons. This record consists of 14 short blasts of fuzz punk meets art wank and is absolutely brilliant.

95. Gods Gift -925 (New Market Records UK 1979) Three tuneless tunes of the finest in fuzzed-out death-dirge DIY-slop. Kilslug jamming with the Door and the Window.[Messthetics #106]

96. Mud Hutters -Declaration EP (Defensive Records UK 1979) Mud Hutters ? Information EP (Dead Good Records UK 1979) Truly original band this. Somewhere in a Heartwork Records/Rock In Opposition neighborhood, but with a real Safe As Milk-crunch. There are psych elements on both these records, moments of blistering punk rock, and a generous infusion of the Desperate Bicycles (or Thought Criminals) ethics and esthetics. Fantastic records, and mandatory listening for any fan of the underground music of the late 70's era. Unfortunately, their subsequent album isn't great. By that time the band got Gang of Four damage.[ Messthetics #106: a track from their first EP is on Messthetics Greatest Hits]

97. Horrible Nurds -Consuming Passion (Half Wombat Records UK 1980) Oddly enough, this record sounds a hell of a lot like early Problem (Sweden) on the a-side, with the b-side being Tim Rose backed by ATV in a fantastic art-rock/DIY howler In that lost art form kind of way.

98. Reptile Ranch -Animal Noises EP (Z Block Records UK 1980) Thinking Fellers Union Local 282 (one of the most under-rated bands of the last 15 years says I and ponder an upcoming UT article) are here channeled way before they even were formed by some UK art school kids. Fantastic Beefheart-y R.I.O-hybrid DIY. Passionate, crude and obnoxious, sending this record to the top shelf of any record room! [Messthetics Greatest Hits]

99. Freiwillige Selbstkontrolle - EP (Zick Zack Records Germany 1980) Ace generic DIY/punk that could've been at home on an early Rough Trade 45.

100. The Rutto - Ei Paluuta (Ikbals Records Finland 1983) Figured I'd seal the circle with this one: A record as stupendous as "Medium Was Tedium" and as prominently throwing all the weight of the DIY-aesthetic on us, the listeners. The Rutto seem to be your 1983 run-of-the-mill small town punk rockers, and this 45 is generic, frantic buzzsaw guitar 2-chord punk. The magic with this one, however, is that in between the choca-blocks of teen nihilism is a noticeable sense of wonder and joi de vivre oozing thru' the grooves, or maybe I am just getting old and sentimental. Thanks for reading.

[jawnjendes]

shawn meets... | sapphire(3)

SUMMARY: in the life of a rockstar, shawn mendes comes across some unique people. sometimes, things stray from the norm. (AU, shawn x every one of my oc’s)(continuation/spin off of goth gf)

AN: SPOOKY N SAD AT THE END. tryna get all the spooky out before @fourtristattoos spooky fest ends!! 

***let me know if you wanna be added to the taglist

previous chapter (this did not appear in the tags, so pls read if you havent done so already)

sapphire’s blog | sapphire’s playlist | masterlist

Sam Doyle was five foot eleven inches of pure, Irish sex. There was no other way to put it, really. He wasn’t exactly great looking, but the sheer amount of confidence and chaotic energy he had upon arriving to Sapphire’s mansion was enough to get Shawn reeled in as well.

He had sparkling blue eyes, a man bun, and a decent amount of scruff. He was just how Sapphire had described him: clad in all back, several tattoos going up and down his arms, and very broody. He was a mystery, and it was like a bus that Shawn was hit with the realization that he actually does have a type: the mysterious, brooding loners who wear all black. Sapphire was the odd one out in the group of people Shawn has been interested throughout the last few years.

"Nice to meet you, Shawn," Sam said in a tone that matched his outfit. He had a strong grip as he shook hands with the singer. "Sippy wasn't lying when she said you're a looker." He winked.

"More than a looker," Sapphire said, leaning against the Irishman and hugging his arm. "He's a dream."

Shawn was not the type to get so flustered, but that was before he met Sapphire. He swore this entire house was changing his state of mind.

"Stop," he said in a voice more docile than expected. "You're way too nice."

"Just calling it as it is," Sam told him with a grin.

Sam Doyle kept Sapphire Lilith to himself for the first two days he was at the mansion. The two of them were holed up in the pink bedroom, not caring who heard or saw what was going on. Shawn had no part in it, he wasn’t the center of attention, and it made him feel some kind of way. He could have left the estate altogether, but Sapphire sent him periodical texts reminding him to stay. He couldn’t bring himself to disobey her.

There was no choice but to wander. Shawn used the gym as often as he pleased, mostly to get rid of the frustration. Sometimes he lounged in the library, find all sorts of books to get lost in. It was actually quite pleasant, even though there was a voice in the back of his head telling him that this whole situation was just a little weird. The voice sounded like Andrew, who actually called him.

"So, we're going back to Toronto tomorrow," he told his client. "Should I call a car for you?"

How is it that Shawn literally forgot he had been in London for work things… in the middle of his break. No, he would not be going to Canada today or tomorrow or anytime soon. He tells Andrew just as much.

"Why not?" he asked, clearly annoyed. "We have things to do before you get back to recording!"

"I'm supposed to be on vacation right now, I don't want to work," Shawn said, glancing up at the ceiling as he heard a rhythmic banging noise.

"You're still hanging around that socialite, aren't you?" Andrew guessed. "What, is she paying you to stay with her?"

Shawn scoffed. "No. I like her, and she likes me. I'm well taken care of here."

"For now. What about when she's done with you?"

The banging sound persisted, so Shawn walked out into the hallway, phone pressed to his ear. Walking up a flight of stairs, he realized he was getting annoyed as well. He didn't want to leave the Lilith Manor anytime soon, why didn't Andrew get that?

"When she's done, she's done," Shawn said, despite the fact that the girl in question had another person in her bedroom and he wasn't allowed to get in on it. "It's nothing serious, anyway."

"If it's not serious, then why are you so keen on staying with her?" Andrew asked. "Look, I heard about what happened with you and Brian. He's sorry about-"

Something went off, and Shawn snapped. "If he's sorry, he can come tell me himself!"

Andrew was silent for a moment. "I don't know what exactly happened, but you need to get it together. Are you really going to let one argument with your best friend stop you from going home?"

"Look, you're not my mom, so back off. I'll go home on my own terms."

"Hey-"

Shawn ended the call and sighed. He leaned against the wall, bumping the back of his head against it. He wasn't staying here because he was mad at Brian. That's stupid. It's petty. He was staying at the Lilith estate because he genuinely wanted to. Sapphire was kind and generous, and really unlike anyone he’s ever been attracted to.

He really couldn’t remember the last time he was into someone so feminine. So charming. Someone with such goddess-like energy… but god and goddess wasn’t the right way to put it.

It had gotten awfully quiet in the vicinity as Shawn wandered while on the phone. He peered into the room he was standing outside of and… Well, there was a time in his life where he wouldn’t question the sight of a skull or pentagram. Now, it was different and a little jarring.

The room was pink, just like any other. This one was decorated with a neon light in the shape of a pentagram hanging on the wall. Large blades with pink handles were hanging on either side of the gram, and a goat skull was hanging above it. There was a little table against the wall underneath all that. Shawn stepped closer, finding a little bowl and a closed pocket knife on the surface. He felt the hairs on his arms and back of his neck stand up, and a bizarre chill went down his spine. There was a slight burn under where his necklace hung and he looked down at his chest.

Maybe a pentagram and a rosary in the same room wasn’t a good mix after all.

Shawn turned on his heel, intending to leave the room and act like he saw nothing, but someone was standing in the doorway.

“Lookin’ for something?” asked Sam.

Okay, he was literally on the floor above with Sapphire. How could he move so fast and track Shawn down so easily?

Also, why did Shawn feel like he had been caught with his hand down his pants? He was just wandering, which he was allowed to do. He couldn’t help the heat rising on his face, or the stammering of his words as Sam’s blue eyes stared him down.

“Well? Spit it out, pet,” he pressed, but he didn’t sound playful anymore. His eyes got darker, literally. The irises turned black for a split second before returning to their brilliant blue.

It made Shawn’s heart pound in his ears. Did he even dare mention what he just saw? Did he even actually see that? He didn’t blink, did he?

“I was on the phone,” he finally replied, face heating up even more at the nickname. “Wasn’t paying attention to where I was going. I think I got lost.”

“Best to get lost somewhere else, then.” Sam trailed his eyes down Shawn’s body. “You need to get rid of that thing around your neck.”

He looked down at his rosary. “My grandmother gave it to me.”

Sam raised his eyebrows. “Huh. I guess you’re not as obedient as Sippy said.” He gestured for the other man to follow him.

On most occasions, Shawn wasn’t so docile. He would have asked more about this room and the problem with his rosary if it weren’t for the headspace he had been fucked into. He knew when and how to get out of it, but it was always looming on his shoulders. It just took the charm of some pretty people to get it out, and so far, that only pretty person was Sapphire.

He followed Sam up to Sapphire’s bedroom. Shawn ended up watching them fuck with his hands tied behind his back. It was a good way to forget about the black eyes.

~

The very next day, Sam had left the property, and apparently without warning. It was the first time Shawn had seen Sapphire break her bubbly demeanor.

“Come with me,” she said to Shawn after breakfast.

Like a lost puppy, he followed her down to the gym. Sapphire took off her silk robe to reveal the sports bra and leggings she had on. She approached the punching bag hanging from the ceiling.

“Hold it for me,” she commanded as she cracked her knuckles.

Shawn stood behind the bag, mildly weary. “Shouldn’t you put on some - oof!”

Sapphire punched the bag once, hard enough to make it lurch into Shawn’s body. He didn’t question her methods anymore and silently held the bag.

She was always the one doing the grabbing, pulling, and pinning down, yet only now was Shawn realizing just how strong Sapphire was. Every blow she delivered to the bag made Shawn’s stance against it falter. She didn’t even have any use for sports tape or gloves. Her bare, manicured hands and a crazed look in her eyes was all that was needed for her to get her frustrations out.

After her workout, Sapphire requested to be left alone. Shawn might as well have disappeared. He would have if he wasn’t so needy for her attention. It was like crack. Sweet, baby pink crack.

He did leave her alone for a few hours. But he knew she wasn’t feeling okay, and he didn’t want to let her wallow in it. He found her in one of the living rooms, curled up on the couch with her phone in hand. Sapphire was draped under a fluffy white blanket, the picture of sadness.

Shawn went to sit on the floor in front of the couch. He reached over and stroked the side of her face. Sapphire made a tiny noise at the touch, picking her head up off the pillow. When her glittery eyes opened, Shawn was not expecting to see bright red irises. He recoiled a little bit, remembering the recurring dream he had along with Sam’s black-to-blue eyes. Still, Shawn didn’t move his hand away..

“Contacts?” he guessed, feeling weary for some reason.

She nodded, still looking upset. “What do you want?”

“You’ve been tense all day, honey.”

Sapphire had a little pout on her cute little lips. She wasn’t as stubborn as other girls that Shawn has dated, and she sat up after a moment, patting the space next to her.

“Lovers don’t mean shit, right?” she said when Shawn was sat next to her. Her voice was oddly soft and innocent.

He blinked. “Define lover?”

“I don’t understand the concept of love,” she said. “I understand companions. Friends. Sex. All of that for fun. I enjoy the company of others, even if I don’t sleep with them. I enjoy the company of my staff, I don’t sleep with any of them, nor do I intend to.”

“Well,” Shawn said, “you care about them, right?”

Sapphire nodded.

“You want your friends to be happy, live their best life and everything?”

“Yes.”

“That’s love.”

She paused for a moment, scrunching her brows. “Well, I understand that! It’s just… going on dates? Holding hands? You can do that with your friends. Spending the rest of your life with one person? I can’t see that.”

Shawn understood now. “Oh, you don’t feel romantic attraction? Not even for Sam?”

“No. He and I have been together for years, and it’s always been open. We’re each other’s best friends, tied for life. I was something else before I met him.”

“People come and go from your life, no matter what. And you’re always, always changing. Nothing’s permanent.”

The blonde looked down, a pensive look on her face.

“Or…” Shawn trailed off. “Has, has Sam hurt you? Is he not good to you?”

Sapphire looked up at him. “He and I are fine. She - I love spoiling him. And we have all seen what he’s like in bed. Like I said, it’s for life. I just don’t love him the way a wife would love her husband.”

“Does he know that?”

“I’m sure he does. He does this a lot, just runs off whenever he pleases without so much as leaving a note. It hurts a bit when he does that.” She paused. “I even have to send Kat to see if he ran off with my Tesla! That thing was custom made!”

So what’s the problem then, other than Sam’s departures are painful?

“He’ll come back,” Shawn reassured, “if he cares, he’ll come back.”

Sapphire scoffed. “In a hundred years perhaps. Fuck’s sake, why can’t this stupid little brain realize she’s being used! Stupid little boyfriend doesn’t love or care! He just fucks!”

Shawn wasn’t sure what she was talking about, and he was too afraid to ask. Not to mention, Sapphire just confirmed she was okay with just being friends with Sam. So he tried a different approach.

“Why don’t we forget about all of this for a while, eh?” he asked gently, offering a smile.

He really should have started with that.

~

There’s animalistic sex, and then there’s whatever that was. It was hot, sure. But Shawn had a few too many scratch marks right where his heart was and nowhere else on his body. Well, apart from the restraints around his wrists that kept him bound to the headboard. Sapphire was especially harsh this time, and all she did was ride him.

She made all sorts of noises that probably wouldn’t normally come from a typical human. A type of guttural growling that didn’t match her sweet voice bubbled out of her throat several times, and she didn’t say anything to her partner. There were no words of praise or coos of his name. Just… borderline demonic sounds.

They were both sweating by the end of it, and Sapphire’s noises sounded more like herself, but distressed. She whimpered like she was in pain as she rolled off of Shawn’s body. Her body collapsed next to him and she curled up into a ball, panting softly.

It worried him. She was never like this after sex, had something gone wrong? He turned his head, watching her body shake slightly, and he tugged on his restraints.

“Saph? Honey, what’s wrong?” he asked, but received no answer. “Sapphire, hey. I need you to untie me.”

She hiccuped and listened to him. She sat up, keeping her head down, probably knowing that Shawn was watching her face, as she reached over and untied the rope from his wrists. As soon as he was free, Shawn sat up and scooped the blonde into his arms, gently shushing her.

“I know, it was really intense,” he soothed. “You really got into character, eh? Those contacts give you power or something.”

Again, she didn’t respond. Sapphire merely leaned into his chest, trying to make herself as small as possible. Shawn planned on holding her for as long as she wanted, but even that was interrupted.

A rapid knock sounded on the door, followed by Kat’s voice. “Ms. Lilith?”

“You don’t have to-” Shawn was about to say, but Sapphire was out of bed in the blink of an eye.

She picked her robe up off the ground and put it on before opening the door a crack. Shawn sheepishly got back under the covers, shielding his modesty. He heard the two women speak to each other in hushed tones, and he noticed that Kat was panicked. Her composure was nowhere to be seen. Then Sapphire gasped.

“Oh… oh, I see.” She closed the door once again and then went to her wardrobe.

“What happened?” Shawn asked, watching her as she stripped off her robe and pulled on a pink nightgown.

“Nothing, darling,” she replied, keeping her back to him as she pulled out another piece of fabric from her wardrobe. It was sheer and black, another robe. She put it on, and it trailed along the floor as she swiftly went back to the door. Then she turned to him and quickly blew him a kiss. “Just get some sleep, alright? I have things to tend to.”

The last thing he heard in the hall was Kat scolding her employer for “changing clothes at a time like this.” He sat there on the bed, naked and confused. That weird chill went down his spine, like when he was in the pentagram room. Some type of anxiety formed in his chest as well, something was telling him to deny Sapphire’s request.

Shawn got dressed as quietly as he could, trying to make out the voices out in the hallway. He pressed his ear to the door, and heard Kat’s heels come to a stop. Just as Shawn placed his hand on the knob, he heard Sapphire’s voice right outside the door.

“Darling?”

He answered the call, meeting Sapphire’s blue eyes once more. Her face was full of worry, and she was playing with the fuzzy ends of her sleeves.

Wait. Her eyes are blue.

“Your-” Shawn was about to say.

“Darling, your friend came over,” Sapphire said over him. “And, er, there’s been an accident.”

Her eyes are blue.

“What?” he asked, his mind being pulled in every direction. “What? Wait, I- what friend?”

“Red hair.”

“Brian?” He and the team left for Toronto yesterday. There’s no way he could be here. “Where is he?”

Shawn was about to step out of the room, but Sapphire placed her hands on his chest. She still had that concern on her face, and it wasn’t exactly reassuring.

“There was an accident,” she repeated.

“What happened?”

But Sapphire didn’t answer. As if on cue, she stepped to the side to reveal Kat, who had been in the hallway. Her face was much more composed than how she sounded a few minutes ago. She stepped forward, looking Shawn directly in the eyes.

“Your friend was let in earlier tonight,” she explained calmly. “It was presumed he was looking for you. He was walking up one of the flights of stairs, and he slipped. He fell backwards, into a glass table.”

“What the fuck? Is he okay? Where is he?” Shawn made another move to leave the room, but both women stopped him.

Kat continued, keeping the same cool tone. “He somehow crashed into the table neck first. An ambulance was called and is on the way, but I couldn’t find a pulse. I’m sorry, Mr. Mendes.”

All the directions his mind was going in suddenly halted. Only one thought that passed through his suddenly foggy brain: Her eyes are blue.

next chapter

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