#but it's never enough kirk in suit to see :)

[yall-batman-fanfic]

Meeting the Justice League | Batman/Bruce Wayne x Magician!Reader

Synopsis: Vivian didn’t meet the Justice League until she asked Bruce if she could, and that was after she ran into one while at work. Let’s just say that not all first-time meetings were ideal or good at all. Even if that member is on probation.

Vivian met some of the members of the League before they became the Justice League. She remembered meeting Diana Prince when she was invited by one of her former mentors to the museum they worked in. At that time, Diana was a museum curator. She didn't know she was Wonder Woman at the time and only did when Bruce revealed to her some files he's been keeping about possible threats, starting from Superman, then there was a speedster in Star City, and then Diana Prince, or Wonder Woman, who has been fighting since World War I.

She remembered coming to the museum and meeting the tall, lean, and beautiful woman. Diana came to greet them that day and showed the collection of statues from the classical era they have restored. After the tour, Vivian went out to have coffee with her to talk more about their works, and they were later joined by Bruce who flew all the way from Gotham to Washington, D.C. to surprise her and join her in the remaining days of her trip in D.C. (Kirk wasn't too happy when Bruce appeared and took his spot beside Vivian in all the dinners and lunches). 

When Vivian introduced Diana to him, there was a pause before he held out his hand to her and introduced himself. She took note of that but said nothing and continued with their lunch. She observed Bruce and Diana the entire time and made a list of things to ask him when they retreat to the hotel room he booked for them both in the same hotel she and her colleagues were staying at – she just have to move out of her current room she shared with a couple of other female professors and join Bruce in the suite floors above the others.

“Wanna tell me who that was?” Vivian asked as soon as she closed the door. “Couldn't be an ex-girlfriend since you kept the act of,” she made a gesture that showed his entire persona, “Billionaire-philanthropist Bruce Wayne who came to see his girlfriend in D.C., all the way from Gotham – which, by the way, is impractical but how couldn't I love you even more?” She kissed his cheek.

Bruce smiled. He then had her back facing him so he could zip down her dress. “Diana Prince. She's a member of the League.”

“Oh – wait, what?” Vivian turned to him. “You don't just drop a bomb like that and act like it's nothing.”

“She's a work friend, Viv.”

“No, George and Catherine who are floors below us sleeping in shared rooms with the others and are eating take outs from McDonald's are work-friends. Leaguers are not just work friends. You get to talk shit about your work friend, not a fellow Leaguer.”

Bruce chuckled. “Trust me, Diana can be rude when she wants to be… and she can call out your shit when needs to be.”

“Exactly, and you can't do that at work. It's either you talk behind their back or you don't,” Vivian jokes. “So, let me guess, Wonder Woman?”

“The one and only.”

“Holy shit! Bruce, I met Wonder Woman and you didn't tell me! I talked about World War I like a total geek in front of the woman who actually fought in it!”

“Don't worry, she just messaged me and said that she finds you interesting and asked if you're up for ice cream sometimes,” Bruce got out his phone that just sent him a notification.

“Do you have any idea how much of a Wonder Woman fan I was growing up?! I had history books, Bruce, history books just so I could read about her. Do you think she'll sign them for me?”

Bruce frowned, more like a pout as he said, “You never let me sign anything.”

“Please, you leave enough marks on my body that it's passable for an autograph,” she made her point when she took off the dress and showed the hickey on her waist.

“You can ask her for one when you both head out for ice cream. I know your plane leaves tomorrow back to Gotham, but maybe we can stay back a bit so you both can have that meet up.”

“It's a date.”

He didn't like that. Not one bit, but Bruce messaged Diana about the plan and gave her the time they could meet.

Changed to her pajamas – which was just her old Gotham University t-shirt and a pair of Batman printed shorts (she got those just to mess with him) – Vivian jumped on their bed and snuggled close to Bruce. 

“I know we agreed to keep League business out of any conversation since what you’re dealing with is really confidential, but since you’re working on this with Alfred… maybe I can have a little peek at that file now? Just so I know who I keep an eye out for.”

“Don't worry, there aren't any historical figures you've encountered lately. And Diana's the only one… but I guess you're right. You're practically behind the Bat Computer when we're on patrol. It's about time I also share some stories from my other work.”

The next day, Vivian went with her colleagues to their last destination before saying goodbye to them as she and Bruce would be staying for an extra day in D.C., this had Catherine tease her about their extra day stay, and a disappointed look with Kirk since they planned to watch another movie on the plane. They met with Diana as soon as her colleagues left and Vivian spoke with her much more relaxed than the last as secrets were no longer in the way.

At the end of their date, Diana said to them both, “Bruce, you should bring Professor Pryor to the Tower sometime. We might need her expertise in some areas, and her skills.”

Bruce frowned. One of the reasons he didn't want the League to know about Vivian was because of her power. Once they learn about her magic, they will always add her as an option to their plans. Magic is one of the things they battle.

“We'll see,” said Bruce.

~*~

It was easy to identify who Superman was when she met Clark Kent in the gala. Before she just went through the files of the Justice League with Bruce, she's heard and has seen Superman in the newspaper a couple of times now and it would either be on a blurry photo or just the bad quality of the newsprint. So, when she saw the profile of the Kryptonian on the BatComputer, Vivian said, “well, gotta give him points with creativity. I mean, when Oli (her brother) removes his glasses and sweeps his hair back, he's unrecognizable.” But after a beat she and Bruce were laughing.

Clark Kent grew up on a farm in Kansas and came to Metropolis and works in the Daily Planet (“Look at that, Superman’s going to work for you,” Vivian commented), and has written pieces that span from investigative journalism, to entertainment and lifestyle, and sports.

As much as Vivian wanted to meet Clark Kent, Vivian can't just go to the Daily Planet to meet him without reason. So, when Bruce mentioned that they were going to have a gala in Wayne Tower to celebrate Wayne Enterprise's acquisition of the Daily Planet, and to welcome the new company under W.E.’s list of companies in its conglomerate, Vivian asked to have Clark Kent to cover the event (since the invitees were only the board members and some chosen employees by the Editor).

When Clark received the news from Perry White, Clark had a feeling this was the work of Bruce. Still, he went to the gala to cover the entire thing, and as he stood there with the other reporters with Jimmy to get photos, Clark braced himself when he heard someone call out, “Bruce Wayne's here!”

Coming out of the sleek black car, Bruce Wayne acknowledged the people around them, he then let out a boy who was around twelve years old, and then, to Clark's surprise, a woman with red hair and wearing a long black dress that made her stand out. She held onto Bruce hand the entire time, while keeping an arm around the boy's shoulder to keep him close.

They passed a couple of reporters who asked a few questions, mostly for Bruce to answer about the acquisition of the Daily Planet, and some asking Vivian about the documentary that she will be part of. It was a documentary about Gotham City, and as one of the renowned researchers and historians of Gotham, she was asked to guest in the whole thing.

When they were about to approach Clark, Bruce whispered something to Vivian's ear and her gaze came to him. Vivian smiled and she approached him with a hand held out.

“Clark Kent, right?” She said.

“Yes, it's a pleasure to meet you, Professor Pryor,” said Clark.

“The pleasure is mine, Mr. Kent. I've read your works and it's nice to see a reporter putting their heart into their works. I hope this change will be good for you and the other members of the Planet.”

“Some mixed reactions but people will get used to it,” Clark shrugged. It was when Jimmy nudged him and then asked Vivian for a photo that Clark remembered he was there for work too. After Jimmy took the photo of Vivian with young Dick Grayson, she refused to get a solo photo, Clark guessed, as she kept Dick with her whenever Bruce wasn't there (preoccupied with other reporters and partners). Young Dick Grayson was her safety net in these places, and Clark could hear her heart beating faster than normal, and see the little mannerisms that showed anxiety. The way Dick held her hand showed that the boy knew about it and would stay beside her.

So, instead of asking her something that would get her caught off guard, Clark went off script and asked her something that would get her comfortable in the situation: “We heard that you will be part of a documentary that explains Gotham's origins.   Tell me, Professor, what can you say about this documentary? There’s also word that it would be directed by one of the renowned directors in Gotham.”

Caught off guard with his question, Jimmy nudged Clark again but Clark ignored him. With Lois writing about the merger, Clark was supposed to write a lifestyle piece about Vivian Pryor’s dress, her relationship with Bruce Wayne, and just mention the project she was part of. No deeper dives into the project. This piece was about the only woman that Bruce Wayne was in a long-term relationship. Despite Bruce being in Gotham, his photos in business magazines have women in Metropolis swooning, and when they heard rumors of him in a serious relationship with a university professor, they were left heart broken. And everyone now wanted to know who Vivian Pryor was beyond the author biography and the interviews and documentaries.

This was supposed to be a celebrity scoop! And Vivian Pryor was a rising celebrity.

“Well, I can't say much that won't get me in trouble. But it will give people more insight on Gotham. I know that Gotham has a reputation in other cities, but I hope this documentary would show how rich it is in history, and I think the director will be able to do it. He is a Gothamite afterall, so he'd know what to show.”

“What about you? I read that you didn't really grow up here. What got you so interested in Gotham?”

“Gotham has secrets that are yet to be discovered. And I think that's what draws me to it –” This made Dick scoff and sent her a teasing look, which Vivian pinched him playfully for. “Alright, that and this little kid.” Dick rolled his eyes. “Other than the fact I went to Gotham University. Also, for the record, my mother was actually a Gothamite. She grew up here in Gotham, but she was a free spirit and liked to travel and brought me with her until we settled down in Liverpool.”

“What are you talking about here?” Bruce came to Vivian's side. He glanced at Clark's way but only for a moment as his gaze stayed at Vivian. 

“Just her latest project, Mr. Wayne,” said Clark.

“Well, I'd hate to cut this short but we need to head inside,” Bruce then held out a hand to Clark, “It's nice to finally meet you, Clark Kent. It was Vivian who asked you to cover for tonight's event. She’s a big fan of your works.”

Ah, so she knows, Clark pieced together.

“I'm glad to hear that. We've been trying to get an interview with Professor Pryor but she's got a full calendar for the past few days.”

Vivian glanced at Bruce before she said, “I'm sure we can squeeze you in. I'll send you my free schedules, Mr. Kent. I'll be sure to tell your boss about it too.” After that the unconventional family of three went inside the venue to join the celebrations.

The next day, Clark got an earful from Perry that he didn't get the scoop he was assigned to write, but after a while Perry got a message from Bruce Wayne's secretary about the free schedules of Vivian Pryor so Clark could get a one-on-one with her since their conversation was cut short. Clark wasn't sure if that was on purpose or a coincidence, but that message saved his behind.

After coordinating with Vivian and Bruce’s secretary in their free time, Clark took a ferry ride to get to Gotham. When he got there, Clark was surprised when he saw Bruce Wayne to be at the pier to pick him up.

“Clark,” Bruce greeted with a smirk. Beside him was Dick who begged to go with him to meet Superman face to face.

“Bruce,” Clark shook Bruce’s hand. “Hi Richard,” he held out his hand to the boy.

Dick shook it and said, “Call me Dick. Everyone does.”

“I'll take note of that. So, where's Professor Pryor?”

“Still on campus. I thought I'd let you see her work before the interview, just so the Planet really knows who they're writing about,” Bruce opened the door for Dick before getting in the car.

The ride to Gotham University took a little while, and Clark frowned when they passed the depressing areas in Gotham and then the sudden transition to the “metro” side of the city, which was where Gotham University was. Bruce parked his car beside the car that had a parking spot named for Vivian Pryor, and they were walking through the halls of the university campus where Bruce and Dick were greeted with familiarity.

When they entered a classroom, Clark could hear Vivian's voice in the amphitheater setup of the room. The room was packed with students, colleagues, and some professionals in their field, listening to her special lecture that day on symbols and icons, which was her specialty. 

“Symbols are deeply embedded in our cultures, religions, and histories. They can represent complex concepts and beliefs that vary significantly across different societies. And to interpret these symbols you need to understand their context. Their historical background and the cultural narratives surrounding them. Let's say these,” Vivian pressed the clicker and the slide showed an image of Lady Gotham which the audience represented as justice, while others said “a lie!”. She said nothing and showed another photo. It was of a black mask with a long beak, the answers were: “death”, “death mask”, “Penguin's new face”, and “plague mask”. 

Another photo, this time it was gold mark with a lightning bolt.

“Zeus!”

“Storms!”

“Thor!”

Another photo. A trident.

“Devil's pitchfork.”

Then another. This time it was Superman's symbol.

“Hope!”

“Justice!”

“Alien!”

“Superman!”

Then another. It was the Batman's symbol this time.

“Vengeance!”

“Justice! Real justice!”

“Batman!”

“It's a fucking bat!” A student called out, which earned laughter from the others, and one of the professors to reprimand them.

“Alright. Starting from this,” she showed a photo of the lightning. “You all just got two out of five… not enough to pass this class, if you ask me. Because your answers were objectively correct, but if you zoom out of this photo,” she pressed the clicker and the whole photo appeared. “That is the Flash!” 

And it was, it was the photo of Barry in his Flash costume and smiling at the camera.

“And, this one…” the trident photo zoomed out and showed Arthur as Aquaman. “Poor Aquaman. Don't let him hear you call that a fork.”

The students laughed and groaned at the answer.

“And you got the last two correct though,” Vivian showed the photos of the Batman and Superman from their front page photo when the Justice League were featured. “Now that we’ve finished the classics, we're moving to more modern symbols that are built today. The new earthshakers and gods that guard the skies and land and oceans. For extra credit on those who want, I want a paper next week that is an analysis on what the Justice League symbolizes. You can take it culturally, historically, or even use newspapers for your sources. What I want is to see how you analyze these symbols beyond the – as Mr. Sanches said in our last lecture – beyond the bling.”

The lecture ended after that and the audiences were leaving the place, giving Bruce and Dick the space to come down to meet her with Clark. Dick was the first to greet her, and Vivian welcomed him in her arms. 

“Hey, you didn't fall asleep!” Vivian rested her chin on his head as he sat on her desk.

“I never slept in your lectures!”

Laughing at him, Vivian turned to Bruce to greet him with a kiss.

“You were wonderful,” he told her.

“Thanks. And Clark, wonderful to see you here!”

“Hello, Professor Pryor.”

“Please, Vivian's fine. And maybe we should head to a more comfortable place to talk?” Vivian said as she nodded at the direction of the students that linger in the classroom to get the latest scoop. “Wayne Manor isn't that far.”

“Of course.”

“And Alfred made lunch too,” said Bruce.

~*~

“So, Bruce finally told you about the Justice League,” Clark said as he drank his tea. 

Sitting in the sitting room in Wayne Manor, Clark was finally able to remove the mask and greeted Vivian as himself – as both Clark and Superman. And in return, Vivian showed him her secret too – rather, the entire Wayne Manor’s secret. Her magical abilities. When she first showed it, Clark nearly had a heart attack when the pot of tea flew to his side and asked if he needed a refill, at first he thought it was Alfred asked but then the butler came out of the kitchen with more biscuits and pastries. Then he saw the floating tea pot and jumped in fright.

“For a moment I thought the place was haunted,” said Clark when he saw the floating pots and china.

“Ms. Vivian likes to play her part in the upkeep of the manor by conjuring the dead to help out,” Alfred joked.

After that was put aside, and Dick getting an autograph from Superman, Clark went to work by stating how thankful he was that they called just in time when Perry was about to tell him off for not doing the piece.

Vivian sighed when she learned what the piece Daily Planet wanted and shrugged at Bruce's way, saying, “it's what the people want. Let's get on with it. I trust Clark with telling the story as truthfully as the people want it to be.”

After what he saw in that lecture and finally meeting Vivian that was beyond the papers and the spotlight of the paparazzi because she was dating Bruce Wayne, Clark promised to do the best he could. So, he went to work, starting with Vivian's background, then her work, and how she met Bruce. His question was really just a fluff piece for people to get a glimpse of the life of a woman dating a billionaire, as Perry told him to. 

But that wasn't what Bruce and Vivian saw when the copy of the Daily Planet came to their door, brought by Alfred.

The article that Clark wrote did mention Vivian's relationship with Bruce but it focused on women in her field and how she is now a rising name in the male-dominated workplace, which was what he saw in her lecture. 

“Vivian Pryor is inspiring young women to take the field as more and more female students are applying for symbology and iconography majors in universities. Beyond that, she has been passionately supporting the Wayne Foundation to bring education for all children in Gotham and is helping in improving and setting up schools in the city… proving that it doesn't take a mask or superpowers to be a hero…” Dick finished reading aloud the last paragraph. “Congratulations, Viv!”

Vivian turned to Bruce and said to him, “How about we take a trip to the Planet so I can thank Clark for this? Maybe set a date with Lois too?”

“No need, he's already in the back garden,” Bruce got up as his phone got a notification of the new arrival.

Coming to the back, Vivian saw Clark landing on the green grass with Lois Lane just coming down from his arms.

“We came as soon as we heard,” said Clark, grinning.

Lois went to Vivian first and greeted her with a firm shake. “Clark went all out in this one, he even battled Perry to divert it from a fluff piece on lifestyle to the business section. Hi, I'm Lois. Lois Lane.”

“Vivian Pryor – and thank you so much! It's so nice to finally meet you! I've read your works and the one that won the Pulitzer!”

Before Vivian can go to Clark and thank him for the wonderful piece he wrote, Lois was already dragging her inside the manor to talk as they were the “only two people who would get what it feels like to date someone who wears their underwear outside”. 

Bruce went to Clark and invited him inside the manor as well, as they entered the home where they saw Vivian and Lois happily chatting away, Alfred serving drinks, and Dick sneaking to get an extra cookie, he turned to Clark and said, “thank you. This article means a lot to us both. For the past few weeks Vivian's been hunted by the media and it's been bothering her for a while now.”

“No problem, Bruce. Besides, I never really liked writing those kinds of things. It was nice seeing her work… and that's why you brought me to her lecture, didn't you?”

“I'm sure you would have written something even without the lecture,” Bruce smirked.

~*~

Vivian didn't meet the Flash nor Green Lantern in their civilian identity. It was one of those days where Batman had an early start in the morning, rather was running over time as the caped crusader. Vivian woke up with Bruce missing in their bed, which disappointed her, but she did get a call from him while he was in a chase with some criminals across Gotham. Though she appreciated the thought, Vivian told him to focus on the road before he crashes and she and Alfred had to make up another story on how Bruce Wayne got into an accident.

On her drive to work, just right after she dropped off Dick at school, the chase that Batman was in led to the road Vivian was driving at. And it wasn't just any car chase.

“Shit!” Vivian saw the large truck ramming through the traffic, and before she could even get out of the car, Vivian found herself standing on the pavement with her personal items with her, and a really, really bad headache.

“Sorry ‘bout that!” Flash said and handed her a cup of coffee from a nearby shop. “Just like how Batman said you liked it, and –” in a blink of an eye he had a takeout in hand “-- forgot the pastry.”

“Thanks, Barry,” Vivian said, still shocked with all of this. “And what about the big ass… oh, Hal's here.”

The Green Lantern has arrived and had the truck in mid-air with his materialized crane. Batman parked his motorcycle by the pavement where Vivian and Flash were and was glaring at the sight of Hal. 

“I guess he came uninvited?” Vivian said. While Batman welcomes help, only when he asks, but isn't too happy when someone comes into his city uninvited. 

“You're welcome, Spooky!” Hal called out.

Flash chuckled and shrugged. “Gotta go!”

“Thanks, Flash,” Batman told the speedster, but the Flash was gone but Vivian guessed he heard it in his comms. Batman then turned to her and asked, “are you alright?”

“I am. And thanks for the…” she raised the cup of coffee and the pastry. “But I am sorry about the car, though.” She whispered as she saw the car they bought for her daily commute to work now crushed after the truck ran over it earlier. Thank god she didn't leave anything in that car and had everything in her bag, ready to tuck and roll.

“It's just a car. What matters is you're safe.”

“Yeah, see you around, I guess. Thanks for saving the day again, Batman.”

It was awkward not to kiss him goodbye or anything.

Later that day, on campus, Bruce visited her to see how she was, acting as if he wasn't there to see her after the Flash saved her ass from getting crushed by a truck. He came with a take out from her favorite restaurant and keys for a car. It was his silver Audi, one of the few cars that were not too flashy in his collection. 

“We can head out to look for a new car for you,” said Bruce as he showed her the car in the parking lot which got a couple of students and staff do a double take at the sight of the fancy car. “Or you can just use this.”

“And have this crushed in Gotham's traffic?” Vivian raised a brow at him. “I'd rather not.”

Bruce sighed, “I guess we're going to the showrooms later.”

“How about a second hand car?”

“Vivian.”

“Bruce.”

They held their strong and stubborn gaze. Until Vivian sighed and said, “I’m paying for the new car, you already gave your share the first time.”

“Because I want to.”

Vivian unlocked the car and opened the back door for him to enter. When he got in, Vivian followed and started the engine with the key's remote engine feature. There, hidden in the heavy tint, Vivian reached for him and kissed him deeply. Bruce was about to pull her to his lap but with how cramped the car was he couldn't and he sighed.

“Yeah, I guess your car had more leg room,” Bruce commented.

Vivian laughed and brought him another kiss. “Thanks for bringing this over. But how are you going back to work? And did you even get to sleep before coming here?”

“I took a nap. And don’t worry, Alfred's coming to pick me up. I'll be staying at home today. He forbade me from working today and only allowed me to head out to bring you the car.”

“Good. I'll see you later.”

“Also,” Bruce sighed again and took out his phone and read the message. “Barry said that – and I quote – should totally have a double date or a triple date with Superman. P.S. Hal says your girlfriend's hot.” He hummed in displeasure when he read the last part.

“That's your call, now go home.”

“Alfred's not here yet, and it will take a while before he arrives.”

“Bruce, we're on campus.”

“I'll try not to shake the car too much –”

PING!

Another message, and it was from Hal. Bruce read it aloud, “Hal's wondering if you have a sister and it could be a double-double date.” He scoffed. “Yeah, Olivia would give him the time of day. I'd like to see her scare him off with the training she's got in the army.”

~*~

Vivian met Victor Stone before he became Cyborg. She remembered Victor as one of the students that Gotham University wanted to offer an athlete scholarship as the young man showed potential in American Football. She would usually hear Victor Stone's name whenever there's a game and the professors in the breakroom would surround Justin's laptop that played the life feed of the match. Though she didn't know much about American Football, she knew that Victor Stone had a chance to go pro with all the praises given from the announcers and from the professors in the room hoping Gotham University gives a good offer to the young athlete.

Because of his popularity, Gotham University invited him for a tour in the campus even before college application season started. Victor Stone was huge, that was the first thing she thought when she saw the boy, and really nice because she tripped on her own heels while walking – it broke in the middle of the day – the boy left the tour he was getting just to help her out. It was embarrassing when he carried her to the nurse's clinic because of the sprain.

When she met him again as the Leaguer Cyborg, Vivian was shocked to see how he was now. What shocked her even more was when he remembered her. 

“You're Professor Vivian Pryor from GU, not sure if you remember but I carried you to the nurse's office to get checked after you tripped and sprained your ankle,” said Cyborg. “I guess this is the last thing you expected from me, huh?”

“I'm surprised but I’m glad that you're here,” Vivian shook his robotic hand. “It means Batman has someone watching his back. You're a good kid, Victor, and I still get embarrassed whenever the others would bring up the time a touring student had to carry me to the nurse's office.”

“All good, Professor. No longer wearing heels?”

“I still do, but I switch them out in the middle of the day now.”

She remained good friends with Victor Stone since then and, though unfair, depended on him for Batman's safety and return.

~*~

Vivian met J'onn a couple of times. The Martian was a man of few words and whenever the would meet it would be brief as he had duties in the Tower. But there was a time when she encountered his mind reading abilities when he suddenly told her, “Unfortunately, Professor Pryor, Martians are not accustomed to heat nor are we war-crazed beings, just like how our planet was named after the Roman god of war, Mars.”

“So, you can read minds, at least the movies got that right. But noted on the other bits,” Vivian said. “And because of that, I'll be reading about blocking mind readers again. Excuse me.”

~*~

Zatanna joined the Justice League much later and when the League was already an established organization. She brought magic into their arsenal. But Vivian met Zatanna even before she was a Leaguer too. It was during one of her shows in Gotham, Bruce took her to one of the shows and they got access to the back where she got to meet Zatanna and learn more about Bruce's training under her father, and something new about him too.

“You guys dated?” Vivian said.

“You never told her?” Zatanna raised a brow at Bruce.

“It was brief,” Bruce told her.

Vivian raised a brow at him. “I told you about John, Bruce.”

“John. Not John Constantine?” Zatanna asked her.

“The one and fucking only,” Vivian said. “You?”

“Based on that reaction, things didn't go so well then. And yeah, I did.”

And based on that Vivian could see that Zatanna still had feelings for John Constantine. 

“Is he still a total asshole?” Vivian asked.

Zatanna groaned and said, “so much! You have no idea!” Zatanna waved her hand and got them some seats and a couple of drinks. Leaving Bruce to stand at the corner while they chatted. “He's so – I could kill him.”

“Fall in line.”

“What did he do to get you to want to kill him?” Zatanna smirked.

“He tried to trap a demon into my body and kill it easily with the Spear of Destiny.”

“Fucking asshole.”

“You got no idea,” Vivian clinked glasses with her and took a drank the wine. “This is really weird, I know that we just dated each other's exes but I'm starting to like you.”

“Same here. And don't worry about Bruce and me, it was just – as he said – brief. He's more of a really good friend now. Does he still have the tendency to brood and smolder?”

“Brood and smolder?”

“Yeah, back then he would have this look and just –” Zatanna mimicked Bruce's face which had them laughing. “-- he's so dramatic.”

“Now that you mentioned it, yeah, he still does. And John, what's his latest?”

“The last he's gotten himself into some shit with a demon or a witch. Nothing new. Same old John, I guess.”

“Same old John fucking Constantine.”

Bruce stood there for a while as the two women spoke like old friends and not someone who just met moments ago. He had to excuse himself to get a drink but was stuck there when they started asking him questions that were too awkward to answer. Especially when it was his ex and his current girlfriend asking. But who was he to say no to an interesting invitation that involved them three, especially if it was Vivian and Zatanna who suggested it?

~*~

John Constantine is not an official member of the Justice League, but he does some jobs for them when it deals with the dark arts. The first time Vivian saw him again after so long, was at the Watchtower where Batman was reluctant to recruit her for a job to consult about the dark arts. But really, it was John who requested the appearance of Vivian Pryor – the only witch he knew who could perform the specific magic to do the job – unknowing she was already married to Bruce Wayne that time.

When Bruce brought her to the Watchtower, he didn't tell her who asked for her there, so when she saw John in the room with the other concerned Leaguers on the mission… all hell broke loose.

“Long time no see, Vee!” John sarcastically said. “I would have gotten you myself but someone put a spell to keep me from finding you – FUCK!”

Vivian punched him across the face.

Many winced as they heard the impact.

In the background, Batman turned to Robin, who was Jason at the time, and said, “You were supposed to restrain her.”

The thirteen-year-old boy turned to him with an incredulous look. “What was I supposed to do?”

“How about calming her down?”

Just as Superman or Wonder Woman was going to intervene, Vivian snapped at their direction and said, “stay out of this!” Then grabbed John by the collar of his coat and gave him a headbut. 

“When I said I never wanted to see you again Constantine, I meant ever. Hence the spell,” Vivian hissed at him.

John spat out the blood from his mouth and said, “Still angry I see.” He turned to Batman. “Where did you find her and how the bloody hell did you convince her to come here?”

“At our home. And I asked her to come with me.”

“But he didn't mention that it was for John fucking Constantine,” she glared at her husband.

“Hold on!” John shifted his gaze between her and the Batman. “You married Batman?! Are you serious right now?! What the fuck, Vivian?”

“It's none of your business!”

“You do know how to pick them, don't you, love?” John laughed. 

Batman didn't like the little pet name John used for her.

“Shut the fuck up, John.”

“Listen, love, it's done. Let's just forget about what happened that night.”

“Not that simple.”

It was time for Bruce to stop this. Placing a hand on her shoulder, Batman gave her a look that said they'll talk about this later and Vivian had to reluctantly let go of John. Letting him fall on the ground.

“Ow! She did that on purpose! Don't you have a time-out for that behavior or something?” John said.

“Stop whining,” Vivian went to Jason's side and had him under her arm. Jason lets her hold him to calm her, and while she does, he raises a middle finger at John.

“Did you see that?! Oi, Bats, your kid's –”

“Let's get to the matter at hand,” Batman pressed on. “We've called for the best magic users on earth to join us on this mission.” He showed the profiles of Zatanna, John, and Vivian on the screen and footage of their magical abilities. Zatanna with her true power, John with his dark arts, and Vivian with the golden flames and the ability to attract and repel anything in her path.

“Hold on, are you using hand symbols there?” John pointed at the video of Vivian casting the large flame from her hand while holding her ring and middle finger forward and pressed on the pad of her thumb. “What are you? A witch on training wheels?”

Vivian did a hand sign and John's cigarette was suddenly frozen in ice.

Batman sighed and only watched the exchange. Zatanna came to his side and said, “Yeah, working with our current partners who happen to be exes isn't going so well.”

“I should have told her before I brought her here. Maybe given her time to cool off,” Bruce said.

“You don't say? I don't blame her though, John has a talent to piss anyone he comes across.”

“I don't blame her either… I brought Robin to keep her calm but he's just enabling her,” Bruce muttered as he watched Jason raising the middle finger at Constantine.

[bulbabutt]

Thank you for being a bastion of sanity amidst the growing "but proshippers! But incest! But RPF!" purity culture's nonsense.

I'm so tired of being afraid to admit that I've even read a fanfic/fancomic because that same person might have a DIFFERENT ACCOUNT where they indulge in a problematic ship. And therefore they are "bad" and by association, I could be labeled "bad" for having looked at something completely unrelated and tossed on a block list.

It's asinine. Yet I'm too afraid to even get off anon because I know I don't have the mental fortitude to survive a potential online witch hunt.

So thank you, I wish you all the strength to keep screaming the words I cannot.

honestly youre not the first person to send me an anon about this, i just tend to feel just as afraid of responding to them as much as you are afraid of coming off anon. i think because while ill post things in vague context, it becomes another thing when someone says it out loud, yknow? but i appreciate it, knowing im not just screaming into a void where no one likes what i have to say.

i think what i will say is im not the only one who THINKS like i do, but i am just dumb enough to be loud and annoying about it. its kind of a thing where i'd never say anything specific because like... some people are so vicious and will demand blood if they get a whiff if i mention anything vaguely. the fact i have to be afraid to say 'people dont mind' for their own safety is crazy, huh?

i think that thing youre saying about being worried by association from association was the same first time i had this thought. i was reading something so good so deep something that effected me so deeply from how well it was talking about the realistic effects of incestuous abuse, and then i went to see what else the author had written and i was like. oh. theres just regular incest in here too. and that was kind of a moment of hm.. perhaps i need to think more about what really matters here. the fact i can engage with what i want and just say 'oh i see what else you do, thats not for me so i will just not engage with that'

so it hurts worse when theres the idea of someone engaging with art they like that has nothing 'weird' going on, then suddenly getting hit with screaming that that artist has a side account theyre not advertising where they make weird art that they are keeping FULLY separate from the account in question. like i do not see how that helps anybody in that situation.

then theres the generalization of it. the idea that maybe all you did was draw like. 19 yr old versions of two 15 yr olds kissing, and suddenly that gets you put on a list of people who will draw literal children in sexual situations, gets you put in that same boat without question. that shit is so cruel to me, that these things all get painted with the same brush. equally as bad, equally as deserving of being ostracized. or the idea that you get put on that list for not caring about if strangers ship things on the internet, makes you just as bad as someone who makes it. i really just hate this entire culture.

idk im... old school i guess? back in my day youd watch a shitty cartoon that had over 20 characters in it so you could smash them together in whatever ship suited you. crack ships were the bread and butter of me and my friends, shit that made no sense but in your own head. the idea of being anti... shipping at all is so... thats very weird. shipping as a thing is very much what fandom was ever made for in the first place? like. im not kidding, learn your history if you dont know that (middle age women shipping kirk and spock)

back when i was a kid i watched this tv show called kim possible, and i was a kid who didnt know shit about themselves seeing a pretty villain lady for the first time who called the main character who was a girl princess. i didnt know what to make of that, i didnt know the age difference between them i was a dumbass child, they were both drawn the same way! then im like 12 years old on the internet, i see theres a ship of the teenage girl and this like 30 yr old villain woman. do you think my 12 year old self saw the problematic nature and thought deeply about the morals of said ship? no. i was like 'holy shit i wish i was the teenage girl dating shego. why do i like this? oh god im a lesbian'

again. i was a child. what are you gonna do, go back in time and arrest my 12 year old ass for looking at pg rated fanart of women kissing on the internet? we didnt HAVE real representation yet! there was no korrasami, no rupphire, no bubbline, no lumity! shipping was the only place you could see stuff that was gay! and it being GAY would get you in more trouble than it having an age gap!

the fact is people WOULD cancel me now for that, wouldnt you?! thats where we're at. that IS a problematic ship, id be put on a blocklist in todays internet for being a child who crushed on villains. i didnt make it, i didnt create for it, i just looked at it and that would get you in trouble now!!! thats crazy.

i know thats a random tangent to go off on, but like..... hhhhh i dont know man. sometimes it seems like people want the internet to pass by broadcasting standards and practices and thats!!! bad!!! let people experiment with their weird shit as they figure themselves out, its so fucking normal. youre not a bad person for looking at things on the internet, youre not a bad person for engaging with things, youre not a bad person for being horny online! especially if you make your own fucking space for it?? a space easily blacklistable, with trigger warnings and EVERYTHING... we didnt have those when i was a kid, so some things are better, but culture is just worse.

i dunno. i just think i would not have thrived in this environment as a teenager. im glad im old and know better, but i worry about the lessons kids are learning from this. to feel ashamed, to bottle shit up, its not good for you. be kind to yourself, be kind to others. we're all working through shit in our own ways.

sorry for another long annoying post

[mlm-writer]

The Sorcerer Supreme, the Devil and Six Men (M!Reader x Multi)

Pairing: Cis!M!Bottom!Reader x Ray Palmer (LoT), Dick Grayson (my version), Peter Parker (TASM), Skurge (MCU), James T. Kirk (AOS), Lucifer (Lucifer) & Chris Smith (Peacemaker) Rating: Explicit Words: 2066 POV: Second Summary: Uhhh gangbang to save the multiverse and reader is Sorcerer Supreme of his universe. Note: Something I kept from last kinktober to really sit down for it. Tags: Multiverse gangbang, creampie, cum swallowing, light cumplay, blowjobs, double penetration, spitroasting, anal fingering, handjobs and some grinding.

Even if you would explain how you got yourself into this situation, you doubted anyone would believe you. You clenched your hands in the silken sheets below you, when Lucifer added a third finger to your hole. He stilled them inside you and ran a hand down your bare back. “Relax, my darling, I need to have you properly prepared for when our guests arrive.” You huffed and folded your arms in front of you so you could rest your forehead on them. 

“If you ask me, it’s pretty pathetic that the devil himself cannot give me enough sexual energy to save the multiverse,” you quipped, before shifting a little. Your cock was leaking all over the pillow Lucifer put under your hips. Lucifer chuckled and curled his fingers inside you. “Hey! No cheating!” You cried out as he rubbed that spot he had gotten to know all too well. You never should’ve started a situationship with the devil, but frankly being the sorcerer supreme from a universe where jackshit happened could be very boring. 

Just as Lucifer was about to make another smartass comment, a portal opened in front of you. You wanted to cover yourself, but Lucifer was ahead of you, draping a thin blanket over you below the waist, before sitting up on the bed. First to come through was Skurge, donned in his full armour. “Behold! The Sausage Party!” He announced, before extending his arm. Coming through were four familiar faces and one boy-scout looking man. His whole body language screamed ‘I am highly uncomfortable.’ 

“So which one of you do we need to stuff full of cum?” You lifted your head and snickered at the blunt question. Even though this Chris Smith was not from your universe, he had the exact same mannerisms and almost the same funny outfit as the one you knew in high school. Here was to hoping he could fuck like the Chris you knew as well. 

The other guys looked embarrassed at the question, with one of them even slapping Chris' arm. Even with his mask on, you recognised the face of the one who got away anywhere. You had always wished Dick Grayson and you had lasted, but the situation back then did not allow for it. Lucifer probably knew that, hence why his alter was standing before you now, clad in a tight suit that left little to the imagination, as he reprimanded Chris for his bluntness. If he was anything like your Chris, that slap did nothing to correct his behaviour. 

“As far as the gentleman explained, you should know everyone but me,” the boy-scout looking man said as he walked closer. His face was flushed, eyes avoiding yours. You took the hand he offered and shook it. “Ray Palmer,” he introduced himself. You studied his face, noting the pale skin that turned red so easily, the dreamy brown eyes and pullable-looking chestnut hair. 

He tried to take his hand back, but you held onto it. “And why are you here mister Palmer?” You questioned, fingers rubbing over his skin. From this close you could see his cute features in more detail. He looked around nervously and then muttered something under his breath. “When you’re in the presence of the Sorcerer Supreme, you should really speak up,” you teased him. 

“Yessir, I’m sorry uh…” You took mercy on him and let go of his hand. He straightened his back and looked around the room again. The portal he had come through was no more; he had nowhere to go. “You see it started with…” 

“He is the cause of all this, now let’s move on, before the multiverse is literally torn apart, shall we?” Lucifer interrupted. 

“Let’s commence!” Skurge shouted. Somehow he managed to get all his armour off without you noticing him undressing, his heavy cock hanging between his legs and swinging with each step he took towards you. Ray took a step aside, face red like a tomato. You reached out for Skurge’s thick cock and guided it towards your mouth. You looked over at Ray as you sloppily started licking and sucking on Skurge’s tip. When your eyes met, you gave the pale man a flirty wink.

Skurge was very vocal, praising you for your skill with comical lines that made sucking him off harder. You then felt warm hands at the edge of the blanket that was pooling at your waist. You looked over your shoulder right into bright blue eyes and a dashing smile. Oh you and James T. Kirk had your adventures in college. “May I?” He whispered, leaning close to tease your lips with his. The brief brush was enough to make you want him all over again.  

You let out a soft sigh before turning your head back around to suck Skurge off. “Do whatever you want to me, Jimmy boy,” you spoke breathlessly, before trying to take more than just the tip in your mouth. You heard Lucifer offer Jim some lube, after he had slowly dragged the fabric off your body. Jim put his cock between your cheeks, rubbing his slick cock between them and over your hole. 

You lifted your head off Skurge’s cock. You kept jerking him off as you turned your head to the side. You saw Dick Grayson on his knees, suit open a little so he could stroke his thick cock, while sucking off Peter Parker. “Hey Grayson! If you want to save the multiverse, his cum should be mine,” you scolded him. 

Dick chuckled, even when Chris shoved his cock in his face to get a turn too. “Just warming them up for you, sweetheart, don’t fret,” the man replied, before trying to deepthroat Chris’ huge meat. You rolled your eyes and went back to trying to do the same to Skurge. He stretched your throat, while Jim teased your hole. You heard Lucifer giving that Ray Palmer a warm-up, but Skurge was grabbing your head and using it like a fleshlight, so you could not watch. He held you down, cumming deep down your throat. You swallowed it all. 

You gasped when Skurge pulled out. You only got two breaths in, before Jim pushed deep inside you. You moaned, the sound growing louder when Chris grabbed your hair and tilted your head back. You stuck your tongue out as Chris stroked his cock right above you. Dick must have warmed him up good, because Jim did not even get to speed up, before Chris was spilling his load directly onto your waiting tongue. “Don’t swallow yet,” Dick told you as he shoved Chris to the side. A few seconds later, Dick’s load joined Chris’ in your mouth. Before you could swallow it, Peter was stroking himself in front of your face too. His hair was dishevelled and he looked down at you with reverence.  

You struggled with breathing as your mouth was full of cum and your ass full of Jim’s dick. You almost choked on the cum, when you felt a finger join Jim’s cock in your ass. “Lucifer, please, it’s tight enough,” Jim groaned as he continued fucking you at a leisurely pace. He was no longer being slow for your comfort, but he also wasn’t pounding you yet. 

“Get used to it, captain. Doctor Palmer would love to join you,” Lucifer mused. You whined, not sure if you dreaded having two cock in your ass or if you needed it on a spiritual level. Dick put his hand over your mouth, before telling you to swallow. It was hard with the way your body rocked and how aware you were of the cocks that just shot their load in your mouth but were still rock hard. 

Once your mouth was empty, Dick bent down and kissed you. You moaned into his mouth as Jim's cock and Lucifer's fingers were stretching out your ass. When Dick pulled away, you protested, but then a hand rested on your throat. "Just say stop if you want me to," Dick whispered in that soft, husky tone that made your cock weep. His fingers found their place and he pressed down, limiting the blood your brain was getting. 

Things got a little blurry from there. You tumbled into subspace, everything hazy and pleasurable and amazing. As if you were under a spell, your body relaxed and before you knew it, you were on your back, lying on top of Jim, while Ray's cute face hovered above you, both their cock stretching your ass open. Dick was beside you, hand on your throat and stroking Skurge with his free hand. Hands were all over you, one of them belonging to the devil scooping your cum off your stomach and massaging it into the flushed skin of your cock. 

Ray did not last long. Your hole was too tight for two cocks and when Lucifer used your cum to stick a finger inside him, it was over for the boy-scout. Through the haze of pleasure, you heard him shout. You mewled as Chris was being especially rough with your nipples, pulling and pinching. After Ray pulled out - spent - Lucifer joined Jim inside you. 

You gasped at the stretch, not knowing whose cock entered your mouth as soon as it was wide open. It didn’t matter. Your ass was stretched to the limit. Your throat was full of cock as well and you still felt the gentle pressure right below your jaw. You didn’t stand a chance against another orgasm coming over you like a wave crashing on the shore. To make matters worse, a pair of lips wrapped themselves around the tip of your cock, sucking the cum out of you and not letting go until you were crying from overstimulation. 

The cock in your throat spilled more cum inside you, before pulling out. You then saw it was Peter all along. You wouldn’t have guessed by how innocent he looked right after violating your oesophagus. You could not dwell on that thought. Dick came into your line of vision and his hand moved from your throat to your cheeks, forcing your mouth open. He spit your cum onto your tongue, then commanded you to swallow it. 

You were no longer capable of thought, swallowing any cum that landed in your mouth, even Jim’s, who bred your hole and right after put you in Lucifer’s lap so he could fuck your throat, giving you a good taste of your own ass and the mixture of cum that was in there right now. You lost track of who was releasing their load when and how often in which hole; it didn’t matter. 

By the time the men were spent, your cock was limp and incapable of getting hard again for a long time. The haze of pleasure slowly cleared from your brain as Skurge forcibly removed Chris from the premises and back into his own universe. You scrunched your face, then looked up at who was holding you like a baby. Bright blue eyes and a gentle smile looked down at you. You smiled back and leaned your head against Jim’s shoulder. “How do you feel?” Jim almost whispered. You looked around, noticing how almost everyone looked like they ran a marathon naked. Dick gave you a dopey smile from where he sat on the floor sipping on a bottle of water. Ray was the only one wearing underwear, which you noticed when he came up to you to offer you a bottle as well. You thanked him and took it. You moved off Jim and sat up, so you would not spill it everywhere. 

When the exhaustion settled, Lucifer approached you in full suit with an outstretched hand. “Shall we?” He offered with his signature smile. You handed Jim the bottle and gave a nod. You stood up, feeling cum dripping down your legs, but also the energy you have been given coursing through your chakras. 

“Let’s end this,” you spoke with determination, before you took the devil’s hand. A portal opened in front of you. A skimpy outfit that barely covered you up and definitely did not hide the cum stains drying on your body materialised on you. One last deep breath and Lucifer led you through the portal to your destiny. Let’s see what the sexual energy of the sorcerer supreme, the devil and six men could do.

____________________

IF YOU ENJOY MY WORK AND WANT TO TRICK ME INTO WRITING MORE, REBLOG. THAT IS HOW YOU KEEP BLOGS LIKE MINE ALIVE. (and you get a mental kiss on the mouth if you leave a comment too, even if it is just WDNIEFBEILFWEIDJ)

[t0ast-ghost]

S2 episode 26 (Assignment: Earth)

- 🎵Gotta go back in time 🎶

- Guy with a cat. Probably the best thing to randomly beam aboard

- Bones gets so worried so fast

- SPOCK PETTING A CAT

- I like how the doors open just enough to let the cat in

- wtf is up with that vault door portal mechanism? No other show would do that, especially not new trek

- I like that the computer is sassing this guy

- That is the most ridiculous hat they’ve given Spock

- I like Miss Lincoln…“Very Groovy.” Omg I love her

- he just appears in a government base petting his cat

- OH SHIT THEY BEAMED THE POLICE UP

- goddamn Spock and Kirk in suits

- Spock in an increasingly ridiculous hat

- OMG MISS LINCOLN

- she’s talking to the cube. yeah I’d do that

- ya know I’d like a show that’s Lincoln, Seven, and the cat going through shenanigans

- “I have never felt so helpless.” Really, Kirk? There’s so many impossible situations you’ve been in, and this less lethal one takes the cake?

- So what I gather from this episode is they decided to make a rocket and now it’s basically not blowing up in space but rather in Europe and Asia, so they’re in deep shit.

- Kirk’s being an idiot

- “It is difficult to know which is best, Captain.” That’s so helpful Spock. So helpful.

- Kirk and Roberta squinting at the bright light while Spock and Seven just stand there

- SORRY?!? They just randomly show a goth woman sitting in a chair. And then I realized it was the cat (Isis)

- I think Roberta and Isis have really nice contrasts in costumes. I’d like to draw them.

- Spock and Kirk are practically finishing each others sentences

- The way they were talking I bet Lincoln and Seven would think, “What strange gay men from the future.” And each would mean it in a different way

- Can’t explain why but miss lincoln is now one of my favourite characters. Bring her back. Please.

Hello everyone. We’ve come to the end of another episode, and another season. I’d like to say thank you to everyone for whatever support you’ve given (‘specially comments, I love reading everything y’all have to say even if I don’t respond). I hope to see you again for the next season of thoughts.

On the next one :D

Masterpost

Episode teleplay by Art Wallace

Story by Gene Roddenberry and Art Wallace

[heliads]

REQUESTS OPEN OMG EVERYONE CHEERED. hi i was thinking.. what if… hmm.. what if.. guardian angel y/n x connor lassiter where in unwind instead of lev saving him after the happy jack explosion its y/n. (they kiss at the end PLEase)

ANYWAYS ILY u survived exams i’m so proud !

'angel ex machina ' - connor lassiter

masterlist

They find Connor Lassiter staring at a billboard. He’s slumped against a wall, eyes hollow and vacant, like nothing in this world could possibly be more fascinating than a couple hundred square feet of boastful advertising. The bright colors seem to laugh at him, tantalizingly out of reach from where he crouches now, separated from the rest of the world by the walls of a harvest camp.

We have guardian angels! Low prices, high protection! 

Even if Connor somehow managed to piece together enough cash for their exorbitant prices, it’s obvious that a guardian angel would be wasted on him. Connor is days away from his own unwinding. Not even a real guardian angel could pull him out now, let alone the vapid models in suits they’ve got bedazzling that billboard. Everyone knows you can’t actually hire a guardian angel. They just show up somehow, save your ass however many times you need it, then disappear. There, then gone. Intrinsically a part of your life, and then it’s like you’d never known them at all.

Guardian angels are extraordinarily rare. The closest Connor’s ever come to meeting one is hearing a story his dad used to tell, and even then, Kirk Lassiter had only briefly glimpsed one of his neighbors getting saved from a car accident by one of the angels. Not exactly a core memory for Connor. His mom had never seen one at all.

That’s the way it usually goes. There aren’t that many guardian angels in the world. Rare things, they are. Somehow, they decide that a person is important enough to save, and then they swoop in and do what they do best. That’s usually saving them from disasters– floods, tornadoes, you name it. There’s an iconic photograph of a guardian angel rescuing someone from a burning building that Connor sees annually in his textbooks; something about the wings silhouetted against the flames is irresistible to school publishers. Hayden swears that he heard about somebody who got a guardian angel to do their taxes, but Connor figures that’s another of the boy’s bad jokes. Guardian angels are for real problems, not tax fraud.

Hell, no one even knows what guardian angels look like. There are photographs, sure, but they always turn out strangely blurry, like when the sun’s too bright outside and all you can do is squint. Even the people who’ve seen guardian angels say that their memories faded oddly quickly after the incident. No one can decide if they look like people, if their wings always appear, if they’re even recognizable as guardian angels at all. The only thing the masses can agree on is that guardian angels do exist, and they’ll never be good enough for anyone.

Least of all Connor. He’s harbored a hope that he’d get to meet one at some point, obviously, everyone has. Imagining that you’d be important enough to warrant an angel sent to watch over you is everyone’s secret fantasy.

Connor’s a few hours away from getting unwound, though, so he’s pretty sure that dream will die like the rest of his:  unwanted, unclaimed, unfulfilled. He’ll go to pieces as yet another boy who dreamed of being great, another poor soul ignored by the angels. The only difference is that, unlike most of the teenage population, he’s not even mediocre enough to live past sixteen. He’ll be in parts by tomorrow. Then, who knows? Maybe his elbow will go to a kid worthy of an angel. Connor wasn’t, but maybe his unwound pieces will be.

Connor shakes his head slightly to rid himself of the thoughts. He’s not usually like this. He’s not a quitter. He’ll go under the knife protesting his unwinding. It’s just a little difficult to keep up the fighting spirit when he knows that at last, despite all his running and hiding, he’ll be unwound anyway. There’s no fighting the Juvenile Authority. All his great efforts just delayed the inevitable. It cuts him to say it, but it looks like they were right after all.

In an attempt to get his mind out of obviously dangerous waters, Connor rips his gaze away from the offending billboard and glances around him. Only now does he notice another future unwind drawing close to him. Connor stretches and stands, forcing the corners of his mouth to upturn slightly so Y/N, his closest friend here and only ally among the cops and lambs to slaughter, don’t think he’s totally deranged.

“What are you doing?” Y/N asks, coming to a stop by his side.

Connor shrugs listlessly. “Nothing. Drafting my will.”

With anyone else, he’d probably stay silent, but Connor learned a long time ago that trying to hold his tongue around Y/N L/N is a losing game. They met in the basement of Sonia’s antique shop, Y/N having arrived barely a few minutes after Connor and Risa. Talk about a coincidence. They quickly hit it off, and as proof of their friendship, they’ve even ended up at the same harvest camp after it all went south back at the Graveyard.

If Connor were trapped with anyone, though, he’s glad it’s them. Not even Hayden can make Connor laugh as much as he does with Y/N. They understand him in a way that no one else ever has. If he were feeling particularly stupid, he would call it love, but Connor knows better. They’re both about to get stripped to pieces. If he spills his guts now and they friendzone him, Connor will have ruined the best part of his life for nothing.

So he stays silent, and watches Y/N laugh at his joke. “I want your car after they unwind you,” they inform him. “Maybe even the house.”

Connor pretends to be outraged. “Both? That’s absurd.”

Y/N snorts. “Who else would you give them to? The tithe?” Then, in a quieter voice, they glance towards the billboard Connor was staring at, and add on, “Maybe an angel?”

Connor sighs. “They can’t sell real guardian angels. No amount of flashy billboards can hide that.”

Y/N nods. “You’re still tempted, though?”

Connor lifts a shoulder. “Who wouldn’t be tempted? The idea is great. I’d love for someone to save me right now. Or maybe just care enough to try.”

“I care,” Y/N offers.

Connor gives them a wry smile. “I know you do. But you’re stuck in the same mess as I am, so maybe I’ll hold off on believing in your escape plan until you’re out, too.”

Y/N looks at him for a second, too deep for Connor to understand, then cracks a grin. “You should believe in me, Lassiter. I’m tunneling out from under the dorms with just a spoon. I might make it halfway to Florida by the time we get the unwind order.”

Connor scoffs. “That only works in movies. You’d need a miracle to break through an inch of concrete, let alone all the way past the borders.”

Y/N smiles at him, a little secretively, a little knowingly. “I’m pretty good with miracles.”

“Sure you are,” Connor says, stretching his arms to rid himself of an unpleasant pinch in his muscles. “Any chance you can whip one up to save me from my impending doom?”

He isn’t expecting Y/N to respond, obviously, but when their face drops at the sight of something approaching behind him, Connor knows it’s not just from his lack of belief. “I’d have to make it quick, wouldn’t I?” They mutter under their breath.

Connor turns around to see a squad of Juvey-cops bearing down on him. He swears under his breath. “This is it, right? They’re going to take me away?”

Y/N’s face looks ashen and wrong. “I should have saved you. “

“We should have saved each other,” Connor corrects gently. Usually, he isn’t the sentimental type, but as the guards get closer, he can’t resist the urge to lean closer to Y/N and whisper to them, “Hey, I’m glad for the time we had, alright? It meant– It meant a lot to me. You know. If I was going to talk to anyone on my last day, I would have wanted it to be you anyway.”

Y/N sucks in a breath. “Don’t say that.”

Connor stares at them. “Why not? It’s true.”

Y/N looks like they want to argue– why, Connor isn’t sure, but the guilt in their eyes is like nothing he’s ever seen before– but before they can say a word, the Juvey-cops close in around him, cutting Connor off from Y/N like slamming a door in their face. They give him the usual speech about how it’s time for him to be unwound, but Connor can’t find it within himself to pay attention. It’s so typical of him, honestly, to be zoning out during what may be his last hour whole, but all he can think about is Y/N, who disappears into the distance as the cops drag him away, Y/N, who he’s now left here alone, Y/N, who will join him in this fate not long from now.

Connor doesn’t want to be unwound. Obviously. He doesn’t want this, and the sheer force of his not wanting overwhelms him as they lead him closer and closer to the doors of the Chop Shop. A crowd of other unwinds has gathered by the door; apparently the final moments of the Akron AWOL make for some good entertainment. The band is playing. Connor wants to run, run far and fast like he always does, but for the first time in his life he realizes how pointless it is. If he tried to flee, they would catch him. They would drag him back, and it would be like nothing ever happened. There is no way this day ends with anything but Connor in pieces.

Connor forces his legs to move him mechanically towards the Chop Shop entrance. Just before the darkness of the place swallows him whole, something tells Connor to glance over his shoulder one last time and he sees Y/N staring at him beseechingly. He doesn’t know how he’s able to spot them so easily in the crowd, but he can. Like he would know them anywhere. Like doing anything but looking at them is impossible.

Then the guards shove him into the Chop Shop, and Y/N is gone, replaced by the dark certainty of Connor’s unwinding. The hallway seems to stretch out forever, but before Connor can take even one more step, a few very confusing things happen all at once.

First:  there’s this shift in the air. Connor can’t describe it. It feels strange and wrong, burning on his tongue like electricity. The hairs on the back of his neck stand up, and Connor knows at once that something is about to go wrong.

Second:  the room erupts in fire and smoke. The bone-rattling boom of the explosion comes later, a little delayed, but Connor sees the white flash of heat and light first. He’s knocked off of his feet, and time seems to slow down. The entire world is gone, replaced only by Connor, floating hazily through the smoky air, and the blossom of fire around him, searing off everything else.

Third, and most confusing of all:  out of nowhere, Y/N is right in front of him. Y/N, yes, but Y/N different somehow. It takes him a moment to realize why. Their eyes glow white, brighter even than the explosion, and their skin is radiating off this cool, pearlescent light. He has no idea how they could have possibly gotten in front of him so fast. He has no idea how they’re seemingly immune to the heat and force of the explosion around them.

Y/N reaches for him, pulling Connor into their arms. Their head presses against his, and they whisper quietly, forcefully, “Be safe, Connor.”

The command reverberates through Connor’s entire body. He doesn’t even remember hitting the ground, and when the explosion clears, he’s– He’s fine, actually. Nothing hurts. When Connor stares at his body, he’s utterly unharmed. Not even a scratch on his skin. He is totally untouched by the explosion that has just decimated the entirety of the Chop Shop.

Connor looks around him and realizes that Y/N is sitting in front of him. They’re both on the grass outside the Chop Shop, although he doesn’t remember getting there. Y/N is unharmed also, although Connor can say for certainty that there is still something wrong about them. It takes him a moment to get his scattered thoughts in order, and then he remembers. Y/N’s eyes wink pearlescent at him from a few paces away, and he knows.

“You’re a guardian angel,” Connor stammers out.

Y/N nods. “I am.”

Easy as that. They say it like it’s nothing. Like Connor hasn’t just had his life saved by a supernatural being currently sitting criss-cross applesauce in front of him on the waving grass. He’s had a lot of time to wonder what it would be like to meet a guardian angel, but it never would have occurred to him that one would have been in his life this entire time without him knowing.

Connor stares unseeingly at them. Try as he might, he can’t force himself to believe that Y/N is anything other than, well, Y/N. His friend. His best friend. The person he’s been crushing on since they stumbled into him by accident in the dark of Sonia’s basement. He remembers the flighty beat of their heartbeat when they were in his arms then, and he remembers what it felt like when they embraced him again in the smothering heat of the Chop Shop inferno. All Y/N. All an angel.

“You were trying to save me,” he begins, then stops. That really sums it up.

“I was,” Y/N agrees. “It was always about you, Connor.”

The idea doesn’t compute to him. “Then why wait until now to save my life? Why not make sure the Juveys never found us out in the first place?”

Y/N tilts their head to the side, considering this. “The job of a guardian angel is to save their primary assignment, sure, but also to minimize suffering wherever they go. I knew the Chop Shop explosion would happen if I didn’t save you. This needed to happen so everyone else here could be rescued. Worse things would have happened if I didn’t interfere now. It may not seem that way, but it is.”

Connor can practically feel gears in his head spinning. “So you knew how this would end the whole time?”

“I knew the great catastrophes of your life,” Y/N corrects. “I knew many paths you could take. This was the big risk, though. I didn’t get to see any more after that. Now I know just as much about your future as you do.”

Connor whistles under his breath. “That’s comforting.” Then, a terrible thought occurs to him. “Wait, that means I was your assignment. Like a job? Were you ever really my friend at all, or was that just something you had to do to complete your assignment?”

Y/N rears back as if hurt. “I have always been your friend. Guardian angels aren’t supposed to ever reveal themselves. I was actually meant to never talk to you until I saved you.”

“What changed?” Connor asks. He can’t stop himself.

Y/N smiles softly. “I saw you. You looked like someone fun.”

“Someone fun,” Connor echoes. He tries to think about his life, if anyone could see that and decide he was someone worthwhile. Someone fun. Someone an angel could watch and want to befriend. A warm feeling blossoms in his chest. Pride, maybe. Or the realization that the one secret he’s been keeping may go both ways after all.

“Yeah,” Y/N says, growing a little embarrassed. “I like you. My bad.”

Connor laughs. “That’s not bad. I like you too, by the way. In case you didn’t see it when you were receiving visions about my life.”

Y/N’s eyes dart up to his. “Really?”

“Really,” Connor says. “What, you didn’t know?”

Y/N shakes their head. “Like I said, I could only see what happened to you up to the Chop Shop exploding. Everything after that is a mystery.”

“Well,” Connor says, drawing closer to them. “I’m glad I get to surprise an angel once in my life.”

Before Y/N can ask him what he means, Connor kisses them, and after a moment of shock, they kiss him back. He’s not sure if he’s the first person in the world to have kissed an angel before, but he wouldn’t mind having that accolade under his belt. Just so long as he gets to be the person to kiss an angel two times, or three. Or forever.

requested by @julysn, i hope you enjoy!

unwind tag list: @reinekes-fox, @locke-writes, @sirofreak

all tags list: @wordsarelife

[dreamwreaver]

I think Erika actually ships Voxlie. There was a clip with her, Amir and Blake, saying she liked it a lot cuz she liked Christian Borle (I don't blame her) so here's to hoping Charlie and Vox get an entire episode for themselves! (Also hoping for a seething Alastor in the background as well)

Also the thing you said about RA basically being gay Charlastor, I agree cuz I've seen Lucifer edited into the episode 7 scenes. Which like... does that mean they actually see the scene having sexual tension? But because it's their hated ship they chose to ignore it and replace Charlie with her dad instead?? Even when they argue that the entire scene is a father-daughter moment with her and Alastor???

Double standards, man.

I mean they've stolen art from prominent charlastor shippers and redrawn Luci over it, I've seen charlastor fankid drawings on tiktok with a big ole CHARLASTOR watermark slapped over it get tons of comments saying "oh I just adore that radioapple fankid". Actually, one of my good friends who I've traveled through several fandoms with did a super cute charlastor art but one of the comments she got was from someone rp'ing their oc who was alastor's wife about yanking him away. Which... look live your bliss but don't do that kind of stuff on other peoples' work. But then this is the same group of people who still use that "but he sees her like a daughter" idea from the song that the creator herself debunked. Media literacy is clearly not the very vocal portion of those shippers' strong suit.

And if I can be real, I think if there's good enough art for a ship you can make anyone ship anything. And that's both visual and written art. But personally I think you can always tell when someone is creating something because it does numbers and when they have true joy in what they're creating. And hell Charlastor is my otp but I have absolutely no problem with other ships. (Being honest I've seen some really great guitarprincess art. There are many benefits to having multishipper friends). And honestly I am not mad about my ships being canon or not. I'm perfectly content to have my little follies smooch and that never affect the brand lore (we've all re-enacted soap operas full of cheating and drama with our dolls as kids... right?). It's like a cake right? And something being canon is like, the frosting. It's nice, it's pretty, but it's not really the reason why you're there. And for some fandom history; part of the reason slash ships were so popular in the early days of modern fandom was because it was male characters who had the deep meaningful and emotional relationships with one another. Trekkies didn't ship Spirk because gay, they shipped it because of the dynamic between Kirk and Spock.

People don't ship rupphire because they like garnet. Part of that character's whole arc was being her own gem, as herself and as her components. Making a commitment to one another where they're together even while apart. Like, is the representation nice? Sure, I guess. But we've kind of run into the same problem that popularized slash ships in the first place; it's an expectation of media and two characters get slapped together as love interests without any real depth as to why they'd be together or why they'd stay together. It's the same as in the 60s and 70s you have generic blonde #5 as the hero's love interest despite him spending 95% of the runtime with his male travel companion where they share all the emotional beats that are supposed to be for romantic interests.

I think I'm rambling at this point, let me know if any of this makes sense.

[boldlyexplorational]

Episode 22 "Space seed"

Here we go! One of the most iconic episodes! And, let me tell you, I understand why. It's really good, I really liked it. The performance from Ricardo Montalban was fenomenal. The pacing was good. Although it's not perfect, it's one of the best episodes so far for its engaging qualities and poignant topics.

At this point you can expect that my main problem with this series is with the women characters ... And I know it's like screaming at the void because this is from ages ago and there's nothing to be done and not much to be expected. But. It's frustrating because it's so close to being good but then ... It never really is.

Mcgivers is probably the worst example so far of the "very professional woman who was betrayed by her hornyness". she's presented in an interesting way at the beginning and seems to have a defined personality. All is lost when she sees Khan, and goes downhill from there. The fact that she chooses him in the end, even after betraying him to save the captain, It's wrong and makes little sense to me.

I mean, it's interesting to see how at the time the man was considered the most restrained one, capable of controlling his instincts. While the woman is the one who's weaker to desire. These days it's usually the other way around: women are faulted (unjustly) for provoking men who are unable to control their animal instincts. Obviously, both perspectives are wrong, but I wonder when exactly and how the narrative got turned around.

I mean women in ST TOS are half naked all the time, and you don't see men be like "when women are half naked I can't help but be primal and violent with lust". But when a woman sees an attractive man they go crazy horny. Speaking of: why didn't they leave the gold mesh suits on the men as well? Montalban looked majestic in it, they don't have a problem with naked men in general so it would have been only fair.

Changing the subject: I'm always intrigued (sometimes mildly annoyed) by the fact that sometimes they don't take a definitive stance on important topics like the one in this episode: they do show different sides and interpretations and leave the viewer to judge, which is not wrong, but at time ambiguous. I do appreciate a lot how Spock is the instrument to show the opposite perspective, how even with all of his logic, he's the softest one.

It's nice to see how Kirk respects the fact that Spock presents himself as emotionless, even if maybe deep down he thinks that Spock can feel more than it lets show. I also liked how Spock was like "we don't have enough facts, captain!" And Kirk was immediately like "I need facts! Give me facts!", he really cares about Spock's inputs.

A few more random things and I'm done:

McCoy is badass!!!

When they do that thing when they look at each other and they have stars in their eyes and the light is soft... I love that (even if it's Khan and Mcgivers)

DO NOT TOUCH UHURA HOW DARE YOU YOU MONSTER I'LL DESTROY YOU!!!!

Yes, I think that's all.

[indeedcaptain]

Spirktober 2023, day 23: Married

HELLO HERE IS THE LAST CHAPTER OF ALL I WANT FOR CHRISTMAS! Fluff, kisses, schmoop, weddings, etc.

Also posted on AO3 here!

☆☆☆

“James Kirk, you are not getting married in sweatpants.” Winona stood, aghast and agape, in the middle of the kitchen. 

“Mom, we’re on shore leave. I didn’t even bring a uniform home, let alone a dress uniform. And they’re joggers.” 

“Absolutely not. I forbid it. Spock’s parents are going to think that you were raised in a barn.” 

“This is a farm! You did raise me in a barn!” 

Winona threw up her hands and turned her back on him in disgust, peering out through the window over the sink to see how George and Lieutenant Sulu were faring with the barn in question. Nyota sidled in beside him and watched James and his mother square off in the kitchen. 

“What did you intend to wear, Spock?” 

Spock crossed his arms over his chest. James’s t-shirt stretched across his shoulders. “My uniform.” 

She side-eyed him. “You brought your uniform on shore leave?”

“It is logical to be prepared,” he said stiffly. He did not add on the fact that he had not even considered the idea that he would have confessed to his feelings for the captain, let alone acted on, consummated, and committed permanently to those feelings, and brought the uniform in the case that he had to return to San Francisco earlier than planned to avoid discussing them at all. 

“That won’t do,” she said. Louder, she said, “Winona, I’ll take them out to get suits.”

“Nyota, as far as I can tell, you are the only sensible person on the whole crew,” Winona said, and James rolled his eyes. 

Nyota recruited McCoy to assist, shepherded James and Spock into the backseat of George’s truck, and drove them into downtown Riverside with only minimal grumbling from James.

☆☆☆

Suit shopping was a more complicated affair than Spock had imagined. He had not known that there was a human tradition about not seeing one’s future spouse in their wedding garments ahead of time, so Nyota had sent James and McCoy to one store before dragging them to another. He had allowed James to steer much of the planning process, as there had not been very much to plan, and now that he was being asked for his opinion he found that he did not know what he wanted. 

The events of the day, week, month had deviated so drastically from what he could have possibly imagined that he was having a difficult time imagining what came next. He could picture James in a suit easily: dashing, handsome, smiling, an image from several diplomatic missions that he had carefully ensconced in his memory. But he was unable to picture himself in the same attire. Despite the time they had spent over the past month talking, clearly communicating expectations and desires and plans for their shared future, he could not imagine himself in a human suit at the end of the aisle. Somewhere, deep in his mind, the remnant echoes of T’Pring’s disdain and her cruelty during the kal-if-fee iced over his joy.

He very much wanted to be married. He was less sure of how to want to have a wedding.

After the third suit Nyota brought to him evoked no reaction, she took the garment from his hands, laid it down, and sat down next to him. 

“This isn’t working for you,” she said. She sat close enough that he could feel the warmth of her arm against his. 

“I have never before thought about a wedding,” he said. “A human wedding was never an option for me.” She looped her arm through his and clasped her hands together. 

“What are you looking forward to most?” She asked. 

“Our bonding,” he said immediately. This answer he knew. “James has agreed to a mating bond--- I believe he desires it as much as I do. That is what I look forward to most.”

“That sounds beautiful, Spock,” she said quietly, and she laid her head on his shoulder. “Wait!” She pulled out her padd and searched for something. “I have a better idea. No suits.” She stood abruptly, hung the abandoned suit on the return rack and strode from the store. Spock followed her, bemused, as she called a thank-you to the clerk and flung the door open. 

Nyota followed the map on her padd until they arrived at a small, brick-fronted building. There was no discernable signage, but Nyota pushed the door open. There was a melodic tinkle from a bell above, and they stepped into a dusty room. 

There was only one person in the entirety of the store, and they sat on a stool behind the register, shrouded in the dim light. It wasn’t until Spock and Nyota approached and the shopkeeper turned that Spock was able to see that they were not human either, but Andorian. 

The woman smiled, and as she sat up straighter her antennae became more apparent. “Welcome to Secondhand Silks,” she said. Her face was lined with wrinkles, and her hands were dappled with dark blue age spots. “Is there anything I can help you find?” 

“Yes,” Nyota said confidently. “Anything from Vulcan?” The woman smiled, eyes and antennae flicking to Spock. “Of course,” she said, and she led them deeper into the store. 

☆☆☆

It was not logical to be nervous, especially in front of Nyota, and yet he felt a twinge of something in his abdomen as he dressed out of the changing room to face her and the mirror. 

Her eyes went wide. “You look beautiful,” she whispered, and she came to stand next to him as he beheld himself in the mirror. 

This garment was right, in a way that the suits had not been. It was traditionally Vulcan, in a way that the suits were not. It was deep green, and the front was beaded, and the collar was asymmetrical and created a line from his neck down the left side of his torso. Tails flowed down his thighs and draped against the trousers, which were the same deep green. It fit him as if it had been made for him.

“I would like this,” he said. “This is right.” 

“Yes,” Nyota said affectionately. “It is.” 

The Andorian woman wrapped it up and Nyota purchased it for him (“it’s a wedding gift, Spock, don’t fight me on this”) and by the time they met McCoy and James back at the truck the sense of overwhelm that had threatened him earlier was gone.  

☆☆☆

Apparently humans were not supposed to see each other the night before their weddings either, which Spock did not appreciate, but he had acquiesced when his mother and Winona teamed up to assert that it was important. For the first time since his first night in Iowa he laid in the bed in the guest room by himself. 

So much had changed since that first night. He remembered the way James had almost reached for him, and had not--- they had not been in the habit of touching each other then. He had been so prepared to keep his hands clasped behind his back for the entirety of the trip, to call James ‘captain’ the entire time, in order to maintain both his professional decorum and the privacy that had hidden his true feelings from James. And all of those shields were gone now. He was allowed to touch James and be touched, to accept the human comforts he had never expected to be offered, and he had discovered an entirely new side of James in the process: one that would allow himself to be cared for by Spock, held and cherished. 

He would accept one night apart in exchange for the promise of sharing a bed with James, wherever they may go, for the rest of their lives. 

☆☆☆

Some feat of engineering had been accomplished in the barn by George and Montgomery Scott, and when Spock walked in with his parents it was as though he had walked into a cloud of warmth and light. String lights swung between the ceiling beams. Amanda and Sarek walked one step ahead of him, hands gently in the ozh’esta, and he followed them: the Vulcan tradition symbolizing how a parent leads their child on a path of logic. As they entered, his friends stood to look at them, and over Sarek and Amanda’s shoulders he could see their smiles. 

They progressed down the aisle. His parents stepped to the side as they reached the front row of the folding chairs that George and Winona had hustled from somewhere, and he bent to accept a kiss on the cheek from his mother before continuing forward to stand beneath the chuppah that his mother had brought from Vulcan. It was the same one that she had used at her own wedding, and it had crossed over thousands and thousands of lightyears over thirty years to be hung in James’s parents’ barn today. Spock thought it was fitting for two such as they, who would spend more time on a spaceship together than they did on any single planet, to be married beneath such a spacefaring fabric.

Then James entered, and all other thoughts vanished. He wore a suit, and he was beautiful. He was accompanied by his parents, and he was beautiful. There was nothing else in the room but James, and the warm golden glow of his eyes and his smile and his hair, and he was beautiful. He glanced around at their friends, and he smiled at them as he saw them all, and then his gaze landed on Spock, waiting for him.

There you are, his eyes said. I’ve been looking for you. He walked with his parents down the aisle, and he kissed his mother and shook his father’s hand and kissed him too before depositing them in the chairs next to Spock’s own parents, and then he turned to meet Spock beneath the chuppah. 

“James,” Spock said quietly, taking his hand. “You are exquisite.”

“You look amazing,” James breathed. “I can’t believe we’re here.” Spock pulled him closer until they were chest-to-chest and wrapped one arm around James’s waist. 

“Are you ready, ashayam?” 

“Hell yes,” James said, and Spock heard a few of their friends laugh at his characteristic eagerness. Spock intertwined their fingers. 

“Parted from me and never parted, never and always touching and touched. We meet at the appointed place,” Spock said, and lifted his hand to James’s face. 

James breathed in deeply. “Parted from me and never parted, never and always touching and touched. I await you.” He tilted his head, allowing Spock access to his psi-points. 

Pressing slightly into James’s mind, Spock said, “I would bond with thee, ever, and always touching and touched.”

He felt James’s mental agreement even before James whispered the words back to him, and then they were both gone. 

Golden and midnight blue, twisting together, shimmering into a thousand million sparks until they were both standing before each other, no longer in the barn or on Earth but somewhere for just them. James looked around them. “It’s not usually so clear,” he said in wonder. 

“No,” Spock said, watching him, feeling James’s excitement through the air between them. “This is deeper than we have gone before.” 

“Dirty,” James said conversationally, and took Spock’s hand.  

“Are you prepared, James?” Spock asked. 

“I think I’ve been ready for this for a long time. I knew from the moment we met that you were important to me, and every day since then has just confirmed what I already knew.” He squeezed Spock’s hand. “Spock, I’m a better man when you are with me. Even before this trip, I would have done anything to keep you at my side. All I want for the rest of my life is for us to explore together.”

Spock squeezed his hand in return. “James, you have shown me the best of humanity, even when I could not accept it in myself. It was serving alongside you that I finally understood where I fit in the universe. There was and is nothing that could take me from you.”

James’s eyes shone with warmth and tears. “Bond us, Spock.” 

Spock raised his other hand to James’s face and placed his fingers on his psi points. “This may be uncomfortable,” he said. “Psi-null individuals frequently find deeper psychic connection to be difficult at first.” 

“I trust you,” James said, and he kept his eyes on Spock’s as Spock said, “Ever and always---” 

But he did not have time to finish the sentence before James’s mind was opening to accept him. The warmth of James, his optimism and joy, his love and affection and faith, flooded outwards, basking him in sunlight. 

“Touching and touched,” James said, and he raised a hand to Spock’s psi-points, mirroring the gesture on Spock’s face. As his fingers brushed the psi-points, the world around them exploded in light.

☆☆☆

For one second, Spock became aware of himself and James, still pressed against each other. His hands were both on James’s face, and as their friends and family watched James lifted his hand to Spock’s cheekbone. 

“Touching and touched,” he said, and his fingers found Spock’s psi-points. Psychic energy cracked between them, sparking. Then Spock’s hands, still around James’s face, began to glow. The glow, green like Vulcan blood, grew from his hands and flowed down his forearms to his shoulders, up to his own face and James’s hand. When they were both covered in the green glimmer, Spock felt it erupt between them: a permanent mental bond, deeper than anything he had ever felt. It was deeper than the childhood bond he had shared with T’Pring; it dove deeper into his mind than any healer or elder ever had; and it was anchored deeper within him than even his familial bonds with his parents. James’s eyes widened, reflecting the glow of the psychic energy. 

In Spock’s mind he felt every memory they shared flowing down the bond: the first day they met on the Enterprise, every away mission, every time they had put their bodies in between the other’s and danger, every vigil sat in Medbay, chess matches and meals, late nights of paperwork and condolence letters and a thousand of James’s easy smiles. Friends, brothers in arms, lovers. 

“T’hy’la,” Spock whispered, and James surged forward to kiss him. Under the chuppah, in front of their friends and family, James held his face in both his hands and kissed him as boldly as if they had been alone. Spock slid his hands into James’s hair and around his waist and kissed him back as the people who loved them most cheered. 

☆☆☆

The Kirk family farmhouse had never been so full of laughter and merriment as it was on that day. James remained glued to Spock’s side, with a glass of champagne in one hand and Spock’s hand in the other, basking in the celebration. Joanna hung off his waist and had demanded an introduction to Spock, and she had offered a terrible but endearing imitation of the ta’al and said that she liked his eyebrows.  

“I tried to teach her on the train ride up,” McCoy said gruffly, watching his daughter wind through the legs of the adults but somehow always manage to locate James. “Fine motor skills are still developing.” 

“Her attempt is deeply appreciated, doctor,” Spock said. “It was considerate of you.” 

“Yeah, well,” McCoy said. Spock waited, but the rest of the sentence was not forthcoming. He stood next to Spock and watched Nyota and Christine charm James’s parents and catch up with Captain Pike.

“Funny about them too,” he said eventually. “I told Christine not to pine after the bridge crew, Lord knows the lot of you are heartbreakers, but maybe I was wrong.” He glanced at Spock sideways. “Maybe I was wrong about all of you.” 

At another point, Captain Pike and Number One sidled up to Spock, and Una tapped her glass against his. 

“So this was the time-sensitive assignment Kirk pulled you off to when you bailed on me? Being wooed?” 

“It seems so, captain,” Spock said. “My apologies. I had intended to assist with your cadets, but James has a habit of deconstructing my schedules.” 

“No apologies necessary,” Pike said. He and Spock watched James, who had begrudgingly been separated from Spock to have a conversation with Sarek and Amanda across the room. Sarek had yet to indicate his approval or disapproval, but Amanda was beaming at him, taking both his hands in her own. “I can’t think of a single person who would be better for you, Spock. You balance each other.” 

“Thank you, captain,” Spock said, and he meant it. 

Over the course of the evening, their friends floated through the house and out to taxis that would take them to their hotels in Riverside proper. Winona had offered Sam’s bedroom to McCoy and his daughter with only a few tears shed, and McCoy had embraced her for it. Amanda and Sarek stayed in the guest bedroom, Spock rejoined James in his bedroom, and Nyota and Christine had been installed on the pullout couch in the living room. 

James sprawled on his bed, watching Spock carefully remove and fold his wedding garments. “I have one more thing for you,” he said, and he reached into the top drawer of his bedside table. 

“Is it more lubricant? That bottle must be nearly empty,” Spock said, placing his wedding garments onto the dresser and coming to lay beside James on the bed. James rolled his eyes at him and pulled out a small, black, velvet box. 

“Har, har,” he said. “No, it’s something else. I wasn’t sure, culturally, if this would work for you, but once I thought about it… I had to ask.” 

“I would appreciate anything you give me, James,” Spock said, but he beheld the small box curiously. “What is it?” 

James opened the box and held it out to him. Within were two metal bands. They were a silver-blue--- Spock estimated tritanium--- with a different metal inset in the middle that he could not identify by sight. 

“Wedding bands,” Spock said softly. “You want--- to display that we are married?” 

“Only if that’s alright with you,” James said. He pulled one out, with a slightly smaller diameter than the other. “If you want it, this is for you. Do Vulcans wear wedding rings?” 

“Vulcans do not,” Spock said, and before the flash of disappointment that he felt though the bond could appear on James’s face, he continued, “But I do.” He offered his hand to James, whose smile was as soft and loving as anything Spock had ever seen. James took his hand and slid the ring onto Spock’s finger. 

“I ordered these after the first night you slept in my bed,” James said quietly, running his finger over the band on Spock’s. “They’re tritanium--- like the Enterprise--- and meteorite. I always thought meteorites were a little romantic… that even though so much of space is just a vacuum, a tiny piece of something landed on a little planet somewhere and was noticed.” He looked up at Spock before looking down again, blushing slightly. “Like us. Even though we’re from different planets, we still found each other.” 

“James,” Spock said softly, and reached out to brush his other hand across his cheek. “Do not be embarrassed. I would be honored to wear your ring.” He pulled the other band out of the box and lifted James’s hand.

James’s breath caught in his throat as Spock slid the ring onto his finger. “You ordered these the night after we slept together for the first time?” Spock asked.

“Yes,” James whispered, and he threaded their fingers together so their rings clicked together gently. Spock pulled James to him and caught his lips with his own before pulling James down to lay on his chest. James laid his hand over Spock’s ribs, his ring laying over his heartbeat. 

“I still can’t believe you agreed to come with me,” James sighed after a few minutes, and drummed his fingers against Spock’s ribs. “You might have stayed in San Francisco and I would still be pining after you and all of this would be a distant dream.” 

“I never would have stayed,” Spock said. “The decision was made as soon as I saw you standing at my door. James, I would have followed you wherever you had asked.”

James propped himself up on his elbow, eyes searching Spock’s face. “Honestly?” 

“Honestly, captain,” Spock said. James laid back down. Spock pressed a kiss to the top of James’s head, just as James had to him on the first night they made love. 

“You haven’t called me captain in weeks,” James said. “I almost missed it.” 

“I will call you captain as frequently as you would like,” Spock said. “Captain.” 

“It’s our wedding day, Spock. Call me ‘husband’ or something.” 

“As you wish, Captain Husband.” 

As James’s laughter rumbled against his chest, James’s soft hair brushing the underside of his jaw, and James’s hand with its wedding band resting possessively against his heart, Spock closed his eyes. As he fell asleep with his bondmate in his arms and a wedding ring on his finger, he thought that he was going to be forever grateful for every plan of his that James had ever disrupted, because every disruption had led him here. 

[my-thoughts-and-junk]

I'm convinced spock and kirk are both socially and emotionally constipated so I do think they'd have sex and get married and be absolutely convinced it's entirely platonic

Never mind I'm talking about amok time 'if kirk won he would relinquish me and I'd get to be with my side hoe' is assuming kirk wouldn't follow the laws of chivalry. Also he killed spock for this woman he's damn well gonna stay married to her

[a-noone]

Silly McSpirk Story Idea: When The Ship Sails

Inspired by the story of two best friends who pretended to be a gay couple to win booze on a cruise ship. Plot under the cut.

The planet Klobour is rich in dilithium, and populated by a species with roughly 21st century level technology. As a pre-warp civilization, they are protected by the Prime Directive.

The Klingons do not care. Their plan is to slaughter the planet's Prime Minister, take over the government, and mine the hell out of that dilithium. They see their chance when said Prime Minister boards a luxury cruise ship.

Kirk, Spock, and McCoy must go undercover on that cruise ship. Chapel modifies their appearance, Uhura hacks some Klobour computers to give their men tickets, and they go and replicate both appropriate attire and a limited quantity of cash currency.

McCoy: "Well, if we're gonna blend in, we're gonna need extra cash for tipping, and for their over-priced alcohol."

Spock: "Doctor, the quantity of alcohol you undoubtedly wish to drink would necessitate replicating a quantity of currency that would almost certainly attract the attention of the constabulary."

The cruise ship is snooze central. It's mostly loud old rich people and families with whiny kids.

Jim's fine. He thinks the kids are cute. He flirts with a bunch of older people just to make them feel good about themselves. He goes swimming in a speedo. Somehow, after three hours, he's friends with the ship's Captain.

Spock is caught in the hell which is watching Jim go around half naked, flirting with people who are not Spock. He vents his frustration by making pedantic commentary to McCoy.

Bones wants to McFuckin' DIE. Jim's got that thing for the diving board and surely he's gonna bust his fool-head open, and they can't even use modern medical tools. Kids won't stop running around and screaming and whining. Spock won't shut up. And because they only have a small amount of cash, he can't really afford alcohol.

McCoy: "YOU did this to me, you damn green-blooded miscreant."

Spock: "I fail to see how I am responsible for the socio-political circumstances that necessitated our presence here."

McCoy: "Damnit, I told you we needed more money! I can't even afford a french fry here, let alone a mixed drink."

Jim: *getting between them and slapping them both on the shoulders* "Hey, you know, there's a newlywed contest. The prize is unlimited free food and drink. You two certainly argue enough to be a married couple."

And Jim is joking. Teasing.

Spock: "Undoubtedly, Captain. Securing additional food and drink for Doctor McCoy would doubtless improve his mood, and make the mission easier."

McCoy: "There is no way you could pull off pretending to be my husband."

Spock: *raising an eyebrow in defiance*

The game show is pretty standard. You have to answer correctly about the other person's personality, preferences, and favorites. They win because Jim has never, since they've known him, been able to restrain himself from gushing about each of them to the other.

McCoy tries to make Spock uncomfortable by laying the flirtation on really thick.

Spock's not uncomfortable. He's actually secretly touched that McCoy knows his favorite tea blend, his favorite book, his favorite poet, his favorite scientists, the name of his childhood pet, all of his hobbies. Spock remembers everything he heard because he's Vulcan. McCoy must remember because he cares.

Then, they win. As a bonus surprise, they are upgraded to the honeymoon suite. They must now, for the remainder of the cruise, sleep in a singular gigantic bed.

What they don't know is that they were recorded, and broadcast on loop to the entire crew, making them ship-wide celebrities.

They're asked to kiss every time they enter a common area. And they kinda have to do it. McCoy internally detonates at the realization that he likes kissing Spock, later yelling at him: "You didn't have to make it so convincing!"

Spock, a touch telepath, merely gloats.

Jim feels some kind of way about seeing his besties kiss each other.

But also, the secret Klingon operative on the ship now knows that McCoy and Spock are definitely on board! Romantic antics, pining, and angst are interrupted by Klingons trying to kill them and sink the ship.

The story ends with Jim confessing his affections for both of his friends. Spock announces that the only logical solution is a poly triad.

[nazmazh]

Finally started watching The Acolyte this evening - First episode did a good job hooking me in.

Joking with my dad about how Carrie-Anne Moss was well-suited to play a Jedi due to her role in The Matrix - Familar with both sci-fi technobabble and wire-work fight scene choreography.

This led to a half-joke that at this point it does kind of feel it's sort of inevitable that *every* celebrity is going to make an appearance in the Star Wars universe.

Dad quipped - "Except Shatner"

Which, yeah, that's accurate.

And while I wouldn't necessarily want Shatner himself, given the turn towards being a real asshole these past few years (far beyond just the pompous egotist he kind of always was), I think honestly, in another world, it would actually kind of be a great bit to have a chair turn and reveal him as a Jedi Master.

And the thought occurs - Having any of the Star Trek cast members s appear as Jedi (or any other role) would be pretty great for a chuckle. Like, give Brent Spiner or Robert Picardo voice roles as droids. Marina Sirtis already knows the schtick for playing an empath, it'd translate completely well to being a Jedi.

Then, the thought occurred to me - Star Trek characters with their basic personalities, but in Star Wars (And I'm sure there's plenty of fanfic already written of this, out there).

Kirk as a hotshot young Jedi, on the frontlines with Anakin. Sisko and Janeway (I mean, assuming she's not a Sith...) running the strategy of The Clone Wars alongside Mace Windu, and proving absolutely ruthless in battle.

Archer doing his "Ah, Sucks" diplomatic routine alongside Obi-Wan, convincing the galaxy that the Jedi are toothless and will try to talk everyone into their way of seeing things, while Kira, Worf, and Seven are busy coordinating and organizing resistances alongside Saw Gererra, and Garak and Bashir work with Cassian Andor and/or The crew of The Ghost to steal all the Empire's secrets (I realize I'm heavily intermixing timelines here, I don't care).

Chewie and B'Elanna Torres either are best friends or bitter rivals.

Picard would rather be happily exploring and studying ancient Jedi ruins, but he keeps being called on by the council as one of their more effective generals. He's somehow found a way to avoid ever taking a Padawan.

Q and Yoda frequently debate all manner of things. It's often unclear how serious either of them is with *literally* anything they say. Mostly, it seems to be a game of who can frustrate the other most quickly/thoroughly. Nobody's quite sure how Q fits into things with the Force. He refuses to elaborate.

Quark is tending bar in Mos Eisley or somewhere similar. Or maybe still DS9/the equivalent of it - Which, either way, of course, ends up being in the outer rim near enough to Tatooine. He thinks he's a bigger deal in the Hutt syndicate than he actually is. He of course still is fundamentally not ruthless or craven enough to fully be an outright gangster/mobster. Nog bucks the trend of Ferengi generally not being Force Sensitive and is a Padawan (Perhaps to Obi-Wan).

[It still feels like a huge wasted opportunity that they never gave him another one on Clone Wars. Also makes the "a pupil of mine until he turned to evil" line in New Hope retroactively weird - "A" pupil, Obi? He was your *only* pupil!]

Anyway, like Toydarians, Ferengi are resistant to Force mind powers [I guess that's just something you get if you're a race of hyper-capitalists that have some unfortunate design implications?]. You would think they were likely to be members of the Trade Federation, and therefore part of the Confederacy - And many are - But, by and large, they're too individualistic to have their whole culture join any one side.

Vulcans, naturally, make for powerful Jedi - But, I'm sure to some people's surprise, so do Klingons. And their concern with honour means they have a shockingly low rate of turning to the Dark Side [Klingon Jedis are much more like Worf, having that formal, controlled environment they're raised in]. Of course, those without force powers get along swimmingly with Mandalorians. There's probably more than a few Klingon foundlings under those Mandalorian helmets.

[heckyeahponyscans]

In my search for info about the Oldsmobile ad campaign, I came across this blog post:

----

The story of “not your father’s Oldsmobile.” Or how some really bad advertising changed the culture forever!

October 14, 2008

Time for a story boys and girls. It’s a tale that requires we go back 20 years, before copywriters had Macs, before email, before I lost my hair. This story harkens back to a day when Oldsmobiles roamed the earth. And their commercials filled the airwaves. I should know; I made some of them. Including the campaign that served as Olds’ final and famous (infamous?) death gasp: “Not Your Father’s Oldsmobile.”

 Dad’s was better.

The line has become a pop culture catch phrase, in the same ilk –albeit attached to worse advertising-as “Got Milk?”  Both slogans have been co-opted literally hundreds of times, far outlasting their original intent. Try reading your morning paper and not finding a variation on either line. For example, about a candidate: “This is not your father’s Democrat.”  About a technological innovation: “This is not your mother’s sewing machine.” And so on. Sadly enough, more Americans are familiar with the Olds’ slogan than of Shakespeare’s finest sonnets. Way more.

A soft-spoken creative director by the name of Joel Machak wrote that famous line. I actually came up with the campaign’s tag: “The New Generation of Olds.” Both pieces were intended as lyrics. That’s right, a jingle! As a matter of fact, I was brought in to help Joel come up with the refrain. The piece went together as follows (sing along):

       This is not your father’s Oldsmobile…This is the new generation of Olds.

Pretty spiffy, eh? The word “generation” was key. If you recall, each commercial featured a celebrity and one of his or her offspring. This is why the campaign is so damn silly. Outside of a morbid fascination with ogling Ringo Starr’s purple-haired daughter or Dave Brubeck’s motley looking brothers, placing the kin of “B” and “C” celebrities on camera was pure folly. Though I will concede we anticipated Reality TV by 10 years! If you do nothing else today, go to the above link. Trust me.

Where’s my Cutlass Supreme?

The very first spot was for the “totally redesigned Cutlass Supreme.” The protagonist for this commercial was none other than William Shatner, appearing as; you guessed it, Captain Kirk! Riding shotgun was his lovely college-aged daughter, Melanie Shatner. A middling actress, she was pretty darn cute. She also was well endowed. And this became problematic given her wardrobe and where we were shooting. It gets damn cold in the Palm Desert at night. The diaphanous gown provided Melanie was meant to be futuristic a la Star Trek, but it did nothing to warm her up. Subsequently, her nipples went completely rigid, sticking up like Spock’s ears.

beam me up, Scotty!

While this may sound lurid and comical now, at the time (3 AM) it was a “situation.” Imagine the middle-aged suit from GM, replete in a satin Oldsmobile Racing Team jacket, making his way over to the director. “Excuse me, but we can see her nipples!”  Given we’d already shot scenes of Melanie in the gown, a wardrobe change was not possible. The solution? Duct tape. And thus her cleavage had a silver lining.

The other moment I’ll never forget was a captured piece of dialogue (unscripted) between William and his daughter. Between takes, they were side by side in the white Cutlass. Unbeknown to either, the mic was still on. Listening to Captain Kirk school his daughter about the virtues of pep and sleeping pills as a key to nighttime shooting was priceless. What a Dad. What a cad. In a way, it preceded his Emmy-winning turn as Danny Crane by some 20 years.

I know this is trifling gossip, and long past its vintage. But like everyone else, I’m beaten down from our grim economy and an evermore-depressing election. Not to mention the woes of Chicago’s sports franchises… When I was new I used to love listening to the old-timers tell bawdy stories from their shoots. Now that I have a few under my belt, I figured we could all use a respite.

----

As a post-script: in 2021 the writer returned to his blog after fifteen years away. He explained that he had dropped out of the advertising biz and become a substance abuse counselor. He began work just as Covid broke out. Wow! I find that inspiring! He also has a Youtube channel devoted to his aquarium hobby, check it out here!

[waaayoutofline]

Please don’t be in love (with someone else)

Based on ep 6 of GAP the Series// Mon x Sam

This fanfic contains…: fluff✨, angst🌪🌪

Warnings: None.

Word count; 3226

Summary: Situated on the events that took place in Jim… Martha’s (my bad) wedding. Basically what was Mon thinking and feeling during the party and after she left. Obviously written while listening Enchanted by Taylor Swift because it just felt perfect.

Mon was standing in one of the classiest and elegant rooms she’s ever been to, shifting uncomfortably on her feet in the middle of the fancy, crowded environment. She was feeling so out of place while being surrounded by all these important people of high status.

If anyone noticed her discomfort, they were kind enough not to share it.

The night was awkward enough, Mon was currently next to Mr. Kirk, who had the nice gesture of driving both her and Yuki here. The young man was kind and an overall good boss with a cheerful personality, he took care of his company and subordinates.

A gentleman really. The kind of man you would want to take home to your parents.

And yet, Mon could not erase the fake smiles and forced laughter every time he was around. It didn’t make sense, Kirk had been nothing but kind to her, so why does she feel like running away from him? For a lot of people, he was seen as an attractive and charismatic person, and yet Mon felt nothing but annoyance and discomfort every time she saw him. For some unknown reason, she couldn’t stand his groomed hair and easy going and boyish smile. The sight of it made Mon, who wasn’t a drinker by all means, have the necessity of ordering something way too strong for her.

—------------------—------------------------------------------

Luckily for her, the show presenter finally got on stage, creating emotion within the crowd.

“It’s time for our special show dedicated to the bride and the groom, prepared by the cool bridesmaids! Are you all ready for the show?”The crowd cheered, yelling an enthusiastic “ready”.

“Are you ready?!”

“Yes, we are!”

“Okay. If you’re ready, then, let’s enjoy the show!” Everyone started yelling in encouragement, and it was enough of a distraction to Mon. Curiosity makes her buzz, Sam was one of the bridesmaids. The “oh so cold and fierce” Lady Boss was about to do a performance for her best friend's wedding. The thought alone made her giggle.

—------------------—------------------------------------------

Her awkwardness vanished as the lights went down. The curtains lowered and the volume of the music raised, only to reveal the silhouette of Lady Sam. Mon was definitely enchanted by the sight, and she was grateful that the darkness in the room was enough to make her blushing cheeks go unnoticed.For red not being Kuhn Sam's favourite colour, it definitely suited her. She is wonder struck. Mon had all her senses pulled at the older woman by a magnetic force that should’ve frightened her, but instead left her aching for more.She was smiling, and hence she smiled too. Their eyes seemed to connect, and Mon just couldn’t look away. Her dance moves were the cutest thing, and she did them in a flawless manner. Isn’t there anything she wasn’t good at?

Probably not.

“Sam is very cute. Don’t you agree, Mon?” Mr. Kirk suddenly says, as if reading her thoughts and sensing her pure affection for the brunette, but Mon doesn’t dare to take her eyes off the stage, she can’t. Not even if everyone in the room is able to see how truly mesmerized she is.

“Yes, so cute.” She answers honestly with a sigh. “ I can’t get my eyes off her every move.” Well, maybe too honest, but that’s something she’ll overthink later on.

“I’m curious how her dance moves are so spot-on.” He keeps saying. “How did she find the time to do this?”

“I agree. I was with her all the time, and I never saw her practice her dance once.” Yuki sent her a sided look, but Mon was far too gone to notice.

“Or maybe…she did it before she went to bed?” He proposes, but that just didn’t make sense because…

“She didn’t do that.” Mon blurts out. Kirk frowns with confusion.

“You’re saying it as if you were sleeping in the same room with her?”

Oh well, shit.

—------------------—-----------------------------------------

After an admittedly pathetic and weak excuse that Mr. Kirk seemed to believe, Mon sighed in relief. Alright, she just couldn’t go and say things like that. We are talking about her boss here. Her superior, her mentor, her idol. Definitely not the kind of person that you imply that you spend the night with. Even if it was just for work.

… Even if they didn’t precisely do any work.

Just the fact of the two of them simply being friends was odd enough, given the fact of their social differences. And even for friends, it was odd to sleep in the same bed and share the same clothes the day after and the activities prior to that such as sharing a playful conversation while kis-….Sam did a heart with her two hands, and Mon was released from the spiralling thoughts. Their eyes connect yet again, and she almost combusts when Kuhn Sam looks straight at her with a bright smile,long and dark hair falling perfectly around her shoulders. …. What was she saying?

“I think today is a good day. I think I should do something, Mon.” Kirk speaks again, and Mon looks away, the heavy feeling of discomfort clawing her chest overcoming the lovely feeling from before. Something. Kirk wanted to do something while looking at Khun Sam as if she hung all the stars in the sky. A weight dropped in her stomach, she really didn’t want to know what that something meant and yet-…

“What is it?”

“I’ll give you a signal when I’m ready, but I need your help.” No. No she couldn’t…she does not want to-

“Y-yes, that’s fine.”

Kirk gives her a last satisfied smile before turning his head up front. A big grin dedicated to Sam, her fiancé.

Suddenly the marble white ground is very interesting.

—------------------—------------------------------------------

“You look so beautiful today.” She blurts out when Lady Sam approaches, getting ahead of Mr. Kirk. Just a compliment. Nothing weird about it, right?

Sam blinks, once, twice. “Do I usually look ugly?” She replies with a blank stare. Mon gives her a nervous smile. Oh, she’s always so gorgeous. But luckily, that thought doesn’t transform into words. Kirk chuckles.

“Well… Sam is embarrassed that you gave her a compliment, so…” Right, because Sam always hides what she’s truly feeling. And Kirk knows her better anyway.

Sam ignores this remark. “Why didn’t you attend the morning ceremony?” She gets slightly closer, and Mon can’t help but to lean in, too. “I was lonely.” The CEO huffs. So cute. Mon wants to bite her nose.

“Surely, there were many guests of honour in the morning session, so I decided to attend the evening party.” She answers, but Sam just sulks some more before putting distance between them. A spark of hope ignites. Did Kuhn Sam miss her?

“And why did you just arrive?” She asks without a hint of genuine interest and a much less soft look.

“I had to pick Mon and Yuki up before coming here, of course.” That seems to alert Sam, who tilts her head slightly.

“Huh? Why did you have to do that?” She gives Mon an odd look, an eyebrow arching perfectly. Kirk looks at her with confusion at the sudden change of mood.

“Eh?”

Before the tension increases, Jim arrives with a cheerful look alongside her husband.“Hey, lovebirds. You’re taking the spotlight away from me. Wanna take my wedding?” She jokes. “You’re way beyond straightforward. Meanwhile, the other person is a total opposite.” Jim says smugly, eyes never leaving either Mon or Sam. And Kirk notices.And the awkwardness between the three increases tenfold.

—------------------—------------------------------------------

Mon watches as Kirk and Sam are dragged away alongside her other friends. It leaves her right at the beginning. Uncomfortable. Out of place. Stuck right where she stands.Feelings that she knows all too well, given the fact that she came here from England at a young age.

Mon never had a proper sense of belonging.

Don’t get her wrong, she has a loving mom, and she found a new dad along the way, but she still feels somehow left behind. At school in England, at school in Thailand. At his biological dad’s summer house. At University later on. Sometimes at work, even. Either she felt like too much, or too less. Swayed by a sea of people that only seems to perceive or understand a specific part of her instead of the whole. And his loneliness never went away, not fully.

Until Sam locked eyes with her across the room. Oh, those eyes.The effect they had on Mon was beyond everything. She still remembers the first day she saw them. The feelings they brought. Time may have passed, but they still had the same spark as they once had. For someone so cold, she had the most fiery eyes.When a younger Kuhn Sam looked at her for the very first time, Mon felt seen. Understood. She felt that for once, she was seen as Mon.

Not Mon “the halfie”

Mon, the teachers' daughter.

Mon, the kid of a broken marriage.

Just her. And as if Sam could read her thoughts, she looks at her one more time. More soft. More heartbreaking.

Please, don’t take your eyes off me.

—------------------—------------------------------------------

“What about you, Mon? What about you and the Horn?” Tee asks, bringing her back to reality once more.

“What are you talking about?”

“Well, has she told you if she likes you, or vice versa? How did you confess and all that? Let us in a bit.” Kade pushes, Mon sneaks a stare at Lady Sam once before answering automatically.

“I’ve always liked Lady Sam… I like her a lot.” An honest answer with an honest smile. The surrounding group grunted in annoyance, leaving her confused. Wasn’t that what she was supposed to say?

“Urgh, Mon! Not as “like” as idolizing her, but ”like” as a lover, you see?” Yuki explains with an affirmative hum for the others. Oh, well. That just can't do, can it? Mon obviously likes Lady Sam, she always has. From a distance. So why complicate things? Besides…

“Lady Sam has Mr. Kirk. She's taken.”

Even when Khun Sam won’t stop looking for her from across the room.

—------------------—------------------------------------------

“Everyone, attention please!” The bride says up stage, “I, Martha, totally forgot to do one important tradition for weddings. “ That gathers everyone attention. Wedding tradition? Mon hasn’t really assisted another wedding besides her father's with her current wife, back when she was younger, so she didn't know exactly what it was. “So I’d like to invite all the single ladies to come to the front of the stage now. Right here come.” All go to where Ji- Martha indicates, but she stays put for a while, leaving the almost empty cup on the table.

As if sensing her distress, Kuhn Sam approaches her in elegant, calculated strides. A pout forms on her face as she lets herself be dragged away by the taller girl.

“Bouquet. I'm here for the bouquet!” Kade smiles with excitement along Yuki, who nods enthusiastically. Sam lets go of her hand, leaving Mon’s hand fidgeting with her hair. That rings a bell. The single girl who gets the bouquet thrown by the bride, it’s the next one to get married, wasn’t it?

“Okay, ladies. Are you ready?”Ji- Martha turns around, bouquet of flowers in hands.

“Bride, are you ready!?”

“3…2…1…and toss!” Martha does so, the beautiful bouquet flying towards them. Mon applauds with a small smile, wishing for one of her friends to get it. It doesn't give her time to react when it suddenly makes contact with her hands, almost dropping it to the ground. Surprise written all over her face as the realization hits. Huh.

Now, Mon could have done various things based on the recent events. She could have kept her sight on the pretty red themed bouquet in her hands, could have lifted her head to look at Jim - Martha with a sheepish smile, perhaps even hold the bouquet up in the air to show it with victory. But she didn’t do any of those. Instead, she did something that took her by surprise.She turned her head to her left, right where Sam's already awaiting brown, dark eyes were shining underneath the lights. This fact makes her heart skip a beat. Time seems to slow down like in those cheesy romcom movies as they gazed at each other. Mon blushed at the realization that she didn’t even think about looking at the woman next to her. She just did.Which admittedly enough was strange. Why not search Yuki’s for example. She was her friend, it would only be natural to share the moment with her. Perhaps even flex. But she just wanted to see Lady Sam.

Why?

The answer should’ve come easily enough from the way Sam was looking at her. So soft. So warm. A fire that could burn you to ashes.And as Mon contemplated if to let herself get burned, she couldn't stop from wondering. Wondering if this meant something. If, somehow, it was all meant to be. Just for a second, shared in the secrecy of their eyes and with rushing hearts.

—------------------—------------------------------------------

Time seemed to slow down yet again. Only that this time, it didn’t feel like Mon was flying high up in the sky. More like getting wrecked by a reality that she forgot for just a moment.“I’m so sorry everyone for having to interrupt the party” A strong, confident voice interrupts. The clapping stops, and when Sam attention gets off her, Mons smile drops off almost instantly. “Since today is a good day, I think it’s a good time to do something I have always wanted to.” Jim’s expression also drops. Mon can just wait. Everyone looks at each other in confusion, some with curiosity, others with annoyance. “I beg you pardon” Kirk excuses as he parts the crowd easily enough. A new feeling of anxiety rushes over Mon as he gets closer to her, his eyes with pure determination. The new married couple glance at each other, communicating in a way that only lovers can.

As Kirk stands in front of Sam, Jim shares a stare with her, trying to say something with pitiful eyes.

“What are you doing?” Sam inquires in a monotonous voice, not liking the sudden attention.

“We've been friends since we were young. We’re partners in our business.” Why is he stating the obvious right in the middle of her best friend's wedding, she doesn’t seem to know. “We’ve been through tough times together. But we have ever once let go of each other’s hand. From today onwards, I’d like to take another step in our relationship.”Everyone is staring at the sudden confession. All eyes are on them. Sam looks at Mon. And then he kneels.

He kneels and something within her shatters like glass.

Clueless, clueless Sam frowns. “What is it? You hurt your knee?”

Jim’s husband's eyes open widely, staring right at her wife’s also perplexed expression. Maybe because they didn’t see it coming. And because it was right in the middle of their wedding party. But Mon doesn’t seem to register anything but what is right in front of her.Practically everyone exclaims with surprise, and a new sound of clapping fill the room completely, resounding onto the high, pristine white walls.And finally, there it is. The dreading question that makes her blood run cold.

“Marry me, Sam.”

“Say yes! Say yes! Say yes!”

Mon stops breathing. Stops feeling anything but the sudden pain in her chest. She barely senses some worried glances from the couple besides her and the other friends of the group from below the stage. Almost feels the caring and gentle touch of Jim.

What’s happening to her? Why does everything hurt all of a sudden? Sam looks at her yet again with melancholic, apologetic tainted eyes.

Her forces leave her body, hands dropping the bouquet in her hand, which falls with a sordid thud. Tears sting in her eyes, her lips quiver in a way that she can’t get a hold of. Time slows, and slows and slows until it feels like it’s trapping her, suffocating her. Sam look away yet again. Now fixed on Kirks euphoric expression.

And then it feels like the bubbles explodes and she can finally move. Only for her to run. Becaus before she knows it, her legs decide to go for their own and get her out of there. Not seeing the way Kade advises Sam, who doesn’t even blink before going after her.Tears stream down her face uncontrollably, blurring her vision almost completely until the point where she can barely see where she is going. It’s like her instinct gets a hold of her, controlling her body completely as she goes down the stairs without her miraculously falling. She must be looking like a wreck, blushing in a manner that only happens when she is frustrated.And her senses are so clouded, that her name yelled by the very reason of her deplorable state falls hopelessly onto the reception room, never arriving at its destination.

—------------------—------------------------------------------

Her bed felt cold as she fall in it.What is happening to her? Why can’t she stop shaking and crying? Mon hugs herself as she always does when feeling unwell in a feeble attempt to self sue herself, not wanting her loud cries to wake her parents.In the dark of her room, a question will keep her until 2AM. Why is she so upset? Why does she feel like her heart is breaking at each exhale? It has been hours, and she is still wide awake, facing the wall of her room. A wall covered in pictures of Khun Sam. Flashes of all those years back, admiring her idol in a way that her friends called over line obsessive.

But it really was just admiration. But this…this is heartache.

She sighs with melancholy. When meeting Khun Sam, Mon was totally surprised at seeing how different she was respecting the version she idolized all those years back. But it was wonderful to get to know her, this time up close and in a sincere way that left her heart fluttering. She thought that it was the very first page of being close. But the marriage proposal felt like the story line ended. Even though she already knew that she was meant to marry Kuhn Kirk, the act of seeing the man actually asking for her hand felt like a slap in the face.All the repressed thoughts that Mon held back while being with Khun Sam broke since the moment she started leaving too soon from the party.

Perhaps they got too close. But what did she truly want, huh? For Sam to be at her door? For herself to open up and find the gorgeous CEO with a reserved, yet beautiful smile? And then what? What would Mon say?

Please don’t be in love with someone else?

Please don’t have somebody waiting on you?

The truth of it all made the faint traces of sleep vanish completely,leading her to a restless night, not knowing that right outside was a hesitant Kuhn Sam who had indeed followed her all the way home but never dared to go beyond waiting at her door.

[kirk-says-wah]

Omg may I please!!! I beg of you have this request!!! James is the popular bad boy football player who secretly loves and is dating Kirk, who's in the drama club. I want it to be like a Greese thing with Sandy and Danny. James friends start teasing Kirk and making fun of him, and James has to go along with it and also makes fun of Kirk.

Omg I'm already crying cause I love my baby Kirk🥺

I'll let you decide the end of what you want to happen with James and Kirk. I like surprises from the writer.

Thank you for the ask! I hope you like it ✨

TW: homophobia

Kirk is actually in a good mood.

James had stayed over the night before, and they’d stayed up all night watching films and making out. It was perfect, because Kirk never thought this would happen.

Mostly because James tells everyone he’s not gay. Which makes it a little more complicated because their relationship has to stay secret in case it marrs James’s image. He’s the captain of the football team after all and Kirk is a nobody from drama club who still gets stuffed into the lockers for being weird.

He’s walking between classes, and he hasn’t caught a glance of James all day. It’s not really that odd because they only really share English together, but Kirk misses him insanely, and just a smile from his lover would suit him perfectly.

He’s a corridor away from his class when the collar of his shirt is grabbed from behind and he’s sent hurtling backwards, slamming into the lockers behind him, dropping all his books.

There’s a roar of laughter and he looks up to see the usual suspects, mostly Dave, sneering at him. What he doesn’t expect to see is James laughing. James is laughing at him.

That almost stings as much as the laughter chorusing around him.

“Where you going, huh?” Dave sneers when Kirk tries to walk away, a hand pressing Kirk’s chest into the lockers.

Kirk just looks up at James, silently pleading for this to stop, but James doesn’t say anything.

“Fucking fag,” Dave spits, knocking Kirk’s shoulders back into the steel behind him. “Who told you you could wear that?”

Kirk looks down to see what he’s referring to; his Black Sabbath tshirt.

Kirk swallows, he really isn’t in the mood for a fight so he just stays defiantly silent.

Dave huffs, gripping onto Kirk’s shirt tight enough that the seams starts to split over his shoulder.

“Pussies like you don’t get to listen to this kind of shit, do they James?”

The question thrown at the blonde catches Kirk off guard, and he looks over to James, feeling his tshirt tear in Dave’s grip.

But then his whole world caves in when James sneers.

“Fucking fairy.”

He can’t breathe.

Dave smirks. “Damn right.”

Dave let’s go then, leaving Kirk with his tshirt stretched out around the neck, hanging all loose and limp, destroyed.

“Wear something like this again and you’ll be meeting my fucking fist, understand me?” Dave says, driving the heel of his palm into Kirk’s shoulder, causing his back to smack against the lockers again.

“Loud and clear,” Kirk mumbles. He can’t meet any of their eyes anymore, and especially not James’s. He feels betrayed, like their relationship meant nothing.

Dave makes a satisfied noise, tugging harshly on one of Kirk’s curls before leaving. Kirk glances up quick enough to see James’s fleeting glance, and he looks like he’s saying sorry but Kirk doesn’t want to hear it.

No one’s ever manipulated him so cruelly before, and he spends the next hour trying to get himself together, desperately trying not to cry.

— —

He doesn’t speak to James after that, even when James blows up his phone with hundreds of calls and messages. There’s nothing James can possibly say to make this right.

But he’s still surprised that when as soon as James finds him, he’s dragged into an empty classroom.

“I’ve got class,” he tries but James just shakes his head.

“I’m sorry.”

Kirk scoffs. “You don’t go around treating people like that, James. And you don’t fucking treat me like that.”

James just looks lost, all doe eyed, scuffing his feet on the floor.

“I’m done. We’re over,” Kirk declares, making a move to leave, but James blocks his way.

“No please. Just let me explain.”

Kirk lifts his eyebrows, gesturing him to go on.

James sighs. “I had to go along with it. Dave’s my friend. If I didn’t he’d think I’m a pussy.”

“Like me you mean?” Kirk bites, crossing his arms. “Or what was it you called me. A fucking fairy?”

“I’m sorry okay,” James says, voice getting louder but Kirk doesn’t back down.

“I’m not gonna let you pick on me to save face then still try and be with me. It’s not fair.”

“I know it’s not fair,” James says, quieter now, gently taking Kirk’s hand in his own. “But I’ll try harder. I want you. More than anything.”

“Then prove it,” Kirk says, lets his hand be squeezed softly.

“I will,” James says, and Kirk deflates. He feels like he might be a fool for staying with James but he trusts him.

He lets James pull him into a hug, and he sags forwards, pressing his cheek against James’s chest.

“I’m sorry,” James reiterates but Kirk just shakes his head.

“Stop telling me you’re sorry and do something about it.”

James just bobs his head, squeezing him tighter.

[thekimspoblog]

"Sheepdog" (Kim Wexler Pregnancy fanfic) Chapter 3: "Kafkaesque"

“One side, everybody! The parade float’s coming through!”

That’s what they were all probably thinking. Pregnant women were a common sight in the hallways of the courthouse, but they were usually dressed appropriately in mumus or jumpers. Pudgy, soft, anonymous. The other women hadn’t attracted enough fame for anyone to take notice, if they had clearly not been pregnant the previous Friday. But now they were all staring at her. They were all staring and whispering. It set her ears on fire, and sent a prickle up the back of her neck.

Fucking Howard! Today started off badly, but she could have recovered by now if that prick hadn’t shown up to undermine her. “Don’t let him get to you,” Kim reminded herself, “You don’t even have to answer to him anymore”. In another week, her plan would go into effect, Davis and Main would drop Sandpiper like a hot potato, and if he still couldn’t see how much stronger she was than him, that’d be his problem. He and his condescension would be in the rearview mirror. She had to keep her eyes forward: Lynn Percival, 31. At issue were the material facts; the chain of events during her arrest. The prosecution was probably going to call attention to her wrap-sheet, but that had no relevance to her interaction with this officer. The cop was expected to deny that he had any prior relationship with her off-duty, but she would be able to get the voicemails he left on her answering machine admitted into evidence, so long as… It’s just insulting, you know?! Ok, Howard never liked Jimmy, and that was understandable. Jimmy was an acquired taste. But when it came to her, Howard couldn’t even grant her the dignity of being his enemy. After all these years, he had still deluded himself into thinking she had a modicum of an iota of an interest in what he thought of her. Why did he think he was any authority on what made someone a respectable professional? And why did he think she was ever that person, before Jimmy corrupted her pure-as-the-driven-snow morals? He was such an insignificant toad, and yet he still somehow found exactly the wrong thing to say, to have her fuming for the rest of the day.

She regretted not buying any antacids on her way to work. It was difficult to focus, when her stomach was a tempestuous ocean of venom. She was starting to regret not wearing sweatpants either. Cobbling together some fitting business attire had been hard, but not impossible. Jimmy had fished this XL gray pencil skirt from the top shelf of the back of her closet, and even so, it was a tight squeeze. As long as she kept her suit jacket buttoned, nobody would notice how badly her blouse was forced to ride up over her turgid bump. What if this wasn’t even a pregnancy? It would make more sense if she had an ovarian cyst. Oh well, the doctor’s appointment was this afternoon, and if she found out she had cancer, Kim wasn’t even sure whether she’d be that upset. She didn’t want to die when life was just starting to get good, but if she had to, dying happy was better than the alternative. She could still put a full day in before the dreaded appointment.

District Attorney Ericsen charged at her, briefcase in hand. “Kim! Do you know where Officer Kirk is?” Ericsen’s eyes were worried, stern, and just a little bit suspicious.

“He’s your witness. Contact his precinct if you can’t find him. Let them know he’ll be held in contempt if he doesn’t show up. This is completely inappropriate to be asking opposing counsel”

“Does Saul Goodman know where Officer Kirk is?” Ericsen made no pretense of the fact that she was asking the same question twice, just slightly reworded.

“No! He does not! I think he would have told me if he did” Kim was under no obligation to answer that last question, but she didn’t feel like playing games. The honest truth was she had shown up today, fully expecting to face the brute on the stand. It was short notice, but if she could file a missing witness charge, that would be good news for Lynn. But the fact remained that the pig’s disappearance was a coincidence! This one was clean of any meddling, from her or her partner.

“Two months! Two months I’d been speaking with him, and he was nothing but willing and able to testify against Percival. I know the signs of when a witness is getting cold feet. When an officer goes missing right before a trial, he doesn’t answer his phone, there are no reports of being injured-on-duty, no hospitalization records in the whole county, and even his relatives can’t explain why he never came home from work yesterday, that starts to look like something else. I’ve seen it before, but this is not cold-feet”

“If you’re accusing my defendant of foul-play, I’d remind you that she cut all ties with gang affiliation after she was released on parole. Putting herself at great risk too, I would add”

“No, I might not have as much sympathy for Percival as you do, but I do pity her. Living in the gutter, getting by day-by-day. If I were writing the laws, I’d categorize severe depression as enough to reduce someone to an animalistic state, to the point where mens rea can’t be proven. But I don’t. And the fact is that Percival struck Kirk in the stomach first, and even if Percival is not a sophisticated criminal, she was still sane enough to understand what she was doing. The point being I agree; she’s not a mastermind, and she currently has no connections to someone who would do this for her. So no… I’m not accusing your client of anything” Ericsen shot Kim the side-eye.

“Again, I’d blame the precinct,” Kim deflected, “It’s not like there’s any shortage of organized crime in this city. Who knows who might have intercepted him, or what he might have done to provoke them? It’s a hazard of the occupation. OR! Maybe he was cooperating with you, then realized how hard perjuring himself would be when the rape was caught on camera, and he decided to hop a plane to Grenada instead. Because frankly I wouldn’t be that worried if I were you. There wasn’t going to be much benefit to having him testify anyway”

Ericsen changed her posture. “How are you feeling, Kim? Are you ok?”

“I’m fine!” she snapped, “You’re like the eighth person to ask me that today. So if I’m sick of anything…!”

“I only ask because it seems like there’s something going around. Just the fall flu season, but a lot of people are out today. I’m kind of under the weather myself”

“I’m sorry” Kim shrugged.

There was a moment of impasse where it seemed the older woman was going to try to feel her belly.

“That’s alright,” the district attorney huffed, “I was just thinking to myself this morning, ‘You know what I need? More paperwork. I hope someone intimidates my officer so I can have to explain to Papadomian why my witness is a no-show’ “ She wandered off muttering to herself. She herself seemed a little off today.

An amorphous hope, a blip of a thought began to bubble up, that if Lynn’s hearing was postponed, maybe Kim could take a sick day after all. But before the hope had words, it was already dashed. The mobile phone in her jacket pocket began to vibrate. It was the office.

“Hello?”

“Hey Kim,” Franchesca fought through a yawn, “I’ve been trying to reach you. Your motion to bump up the Estrada trial was approved, but they insist on trying him as an adult”

“I’ll take it as a victory anyway. When is the date?”

“Next week, Monday the… um… the 15th!” rustling papers could be heard on the other end of the line.

“Today’s the 15th!”

“Oh crud… I’m really sorry. I’m really really sorry! The letter came in, and it sat on the pile, and you know usually I’m so on top of things, but-”

“Franchesca, Franchesca! It’s fine. It’s fall flu season. What’s the time?”

“12:15. Right now it’s 10:4-”

“I know. I only have a little over an hour to prepare. I think I can make it work”

“You’re really not mad?”

“A little”

“I’m sorry”

“Thank you, Franchesca”

*Click!*

She dialed Jimmy; she’d delegated the task of updating the Estrada brief to him, and even if he didn’t have it, she just needed to vent.

________________________________

But the cell phone was sitting on the car seat next to Saul’s briefcase, switched on silent mode. He didn’t hear it buzz.

“What do you mean Lalo’s not dead?” he asked Mike.

“Turns out he had a trap door installed in his bathroom, and a tunnel leading out from under his compound”

“Turns out” Jimmy repeated incredulously.

_____________________________

The phone just rang and rang and eventually went to voicemail. Kim gave up and started to seek out somewhere to sit down and write on the older version of the document, when the parasite in her belly decided to do a summersault. Suddenly a foot was on her bladder.

“Women’s Restroom Out of Order” said the sheet of notebook paper scotch-taped over the door.

“UNISEX” read the sign over the men’s room.

…

When she stepped out of the stall, Bill Oakley was loitering at the sink, washing his hands at the next basin over. It was a bit awkward having the bathrooms desegregated like this, especially given the lack of soundproofing, but they were all adults. Anyway, she was so nauseous she almost didn’t notice he was there at first. “Keep it together!” she commanded herself, “Get this done, then I have permission to pass out”. Something was wrong with her skirt. Ever since she had pulled it back up, it was painfully tight. She adjusted it and adjusted it in front of the mirror, but no matter what, the seams at the waist were threatening to split open. Was she still growing?! Totally illogical, Captain. Then again how did she account for last night? This whole thing felt like science fiction. And if her clothes couldn’t keep this existential crisis contained, what chance did her mind have? Too many questions were pulling her in a million different directions; it was better to keep them stuffed into the confines of the fabric and deal with them later when she got home. Bill looked her up and down, ponytail to flat dress shoe, with a nonplussed expression, and then finally broke the silence.

“Hey Kim… New haircut?” he asked with a tone drier than a saltine.

For the first time this morning, it cracked a smile across her face. “I know right?” she played along, “Probably the only thing left recognizable about me. Lop this off, and I could disappear into the crowd”

“Not on the 19th, you can’t! Martinelli? Let’s just say some details are going to come out in discovery, which I’m pretty sure you were trying to conceal. I was looking forward to the damage I was going to do to your pride”

“Not conceal! You and I just have differing opinions about whether the spring-gun should be treated as an assault with a deadly weapon. Because Martinelli thought it was a toy gun and it went off by accident, blame shifts to the manufacturer. When plead down to products liability, which is all this is, I’ve already given you all the relevant facts. Freely and openly! Anything more would be an unnecessary invasion of the defendant’s privacy”

“Yeah yeah, you can keep singing that song!” the DA taunted, “Until Wednesday! I recommend bringing some bactine!”

“All locker-room talk” she chuckled. She turned for the door, but stopped. “Thank you”

“For what?” Bill straightened his tie in his reflection.

“For not getting all touchy-feely about it. Everyone’s being sickeningly sweet to me today, and you’re the first person who’s talking normally. Even Howard’s being nice to me, but you know… it’s Howard. Even when he’s trying to be nice, he’s an asshole. It doesn’t even matter if he’s right about understanding what I’m dealing with; it’s none of his business. But he is right… My kingdom for a cigarette right about now”

“He’s probably just jealous,” Bill assessed.

“He’s welcome to trade places whenever he wants! I’m sure his life is so hard”

“He’s getting divorced, after all,” he shrugged.

“I didn’t know he was married,” Kim was taken aback.

“Yep. Looks like you get to have it all. Profitable career, big house, stable marriage, baby on the way? While some of us are about to lose everything. Some of us never had that much to start with”

Maybe she couldn’t bring herself to feel sorry for Howard, but she did feel pity for Bill! “At least you said you were moving to an office with a window, right?” she tentatively asked.

“They gave it to someone else”

“Jesus! I wish there was something I could do”

“Not unless you have any female friends you could set me up with?”

Kim thought for a moment to consider the question seriously. “Well I think you and Steph could potentially hit it off. But I doubt her wife would appreciate me giving you her number”

“Eh. I’m no-one’s type,” Bill had resigned himself to this fact years ago, “Honestly I’d settle for any male friends you have too. I don’t have any of those either”

“On second thought,” Kim retrieved a paper towel and a pen from her bag, “If you just want someone to talk to, I guess I don’t see the harm. The three of you kind of have the same sense of humor”

Oakley took the flimsy brown napkin with cherishment. Before the conversation could end, he had one last thing to add:

“Speaking of Howard,” he cleared his throat, “and speaking of butting in where I don’t belong, I might have been eavesdropping when Howard was making some rather frantic calls earlier this morning. He mentioned you more than a couple times”

“Who was he talking to?” she leaned against the wall.

“If I had to guess, probably Rebecca, right? There’s still unsettled business about McGill’s estate the four of you have been sifting through?”

“Howard’s been talking to Rebecca?”

“Kind of a lot. I assumed you knew”

“I haven’t been involved since the reading of the will. After the meeting with the scholarship board, we both decided we didn’t want anything else to do with it”

“Well whatever it was, he pretty adamantly wanted to call off the whole thing. Said something about not wanting to destroy an innocent life”

Kim’s stomach gave out an audible gurgle. This had been a nice distraction, but now the sinking feeling was back worse than before.

Between the heavy book bag slung over her shoulder and her shifting center of gravity, each step was becoming an increasingly precarious balancing act as she waddled back down the hallway, but Kim felt like she was starting to get the hang of it. She kept her free hand supporting the underside of her belly, both to keep her passenger calm and to keep the gray pencil skirt from beginning to ride down her hips.

Her house wasn’t that big - she thought - Howard’s house was still bigger. That wasn’t the point of course; she only needed one square acre to call home - one square acre she couldn’t be muscled out of - but still. She didn’t think she was being a pedant, to point out that anyone who still had a car to sleep in had not, in fact, lost everything yet. Hyperbolic claims of victimization like that only proved how sheltered someone really was. She knew so many people who were at the absolute bottom, and she’d been there herself; Howard was nowhere near that point of humility yet.

And as far as her profitable career? That wasn’t what it seemed either. She had money now, sure, but at what cost? Never being able to dismiss a bump in the night again. It’d cost her peace of mind, sleep. Ever since childhood, she’d wanted to live in a movie, but now that the movie had finally begun, she’d do anything to go back to normal. Ever since her husband had retrieved that bail money for the cartel, they were both on a merry-go-round they couldn’t get off of. Really, it was the state of New Mexico’s fault. If they just paid their public defenders a living wage, this all could have been avoided.

The stability of her marriage? That was something that was hard to quantify. It wasn’t close to perfect, but she didn’t necessarily expect better. Of course she and Jimmy were always on the outs, of course they argued constantly; they met at work; fighting was the relationship. But they did see eachother, in ways the rest of the world didn’t, so she really wouldn’t have had it any other way. The man was so much more than a 2-bit con-artist. He was sweet, and loyal, and he actually gave a damn about people. He gave a damn about the depths of rage she concealed under her smile.

... And the baby? The baby! … was a Metaphor…

Somewhere nearby, someone’s cell phone was going off. At least that’s what she thought at first; the tinkling bells were oddly familiar…

La la la la la la la. La la la la la la la…

In the periphery of her vision, an old woman was sitting on one of the benches holding a hand mirror. As Kim walked past her, the mirror caught a light beam from the window and… OW! Kim’s hand flew to cover her right eye. The flash was worse than blinding; something sharp had buried itself under her eyelid. She wanted to dismiss it as an eyelash refusing to lay flat, but no, she was pretty sure she was bleeding. Limping, blinking frantically, trying to avoid suits coming the opposite way as she found a corner of the hallway to pull over. And then as quickly as it had started, the pain was gone. The tears in her hand were crystal clear, no blood, so she couldn’t explain what had just happened. But the air in the hallway was suddenly several degrees cooler, and as the buzzing of the fluorescent lights overhead pulsated in and out, the sound resembled a gravelly voice.

WITCH! WITCH!

The chill passed. Nobody else seemed to have noticed the power surge.

David Estrada (16) was waiting to meet her, standing just inside the bounds of the metal detectors.

“What the hell is this?” Kim criticized his wardrobe as she approached, “David, I thought we talked about this. Suit? Tie? Loafers? Professional clothes! Jeans and a dress shirt at worst!”

“I’m sorry, Ms. Wexler,” came his mealy-mouthed answer, “You know I tried to look for some church-clothes, but your secretary only called me today saying the court hearing was today. And besides, last time you lent me a tie. I wasn’t sure if we were doing that again”

She had been very explicit about the fact that David needed to get his own tie. She looked over his outfit; the camo cargo shorts, the white wifebeater. “At least give me the gold chain,” she ordered.

“Isn’t the whole point of court to represent yourself as you are?”

“Nope!” Kim kept her palm outstretched expectantly. David groaned but relinquished the necklace.

“Well this is who I am…” Estrada stubbornly finished the thought under his breath.

There was no time left for debate. The defense scrambled to their table just before the bailiff announced the entrance of the judge.

“All rise. The honorable Judge Toledo presiding”

The justice was an unfamiliar face to Kim. Weathered and sagging, though he couldn’t be more than 55. It looked as if his pale jowled face was sculpted by filling a nylon stocking with tofu. Maybe he had lost weight recently, but his skin had not yet gotten the memo. A broom of fire-engine red hair sat lopsided on his head like a crown of straw. His eyes were tiny blue marbles.

“David Estrada…” Toledo began, but the defendant shot to his feet and blurted out, “Not guilty!”

Kim put a hand on his shoulder to let David know he should sit back down; “Please excuse my client’s exuberance. As you can see, he’s very young and his only experience with criminal procedure comes from television. (. . .) We are actually prepared to take a plea deal on counts 1 and 2; the malicious mischief and the criminal trespass. We are only contesting count 3; larceny”

“I see. And in pre-trial, you stated that you also wished to contest count 4. Is that still correct?”

**Count 4?**

The color began to rise in her cheeks as she burrowed back into her notes. She found the old brief, but it only mentioned charges 1-3! What was Count 4?! Clearly, she knew enough about it at some point to submit a plea. The domino effect of the day’s failures, delays, procrastinations and miscommunications were finally gaining momentum. Was this the result of deliberately pouring alcohol on her memory each night, or was 221 cases maybe just too many cases for any one person to juggle in a month? Hard to say whether her nerves upset the fetus or the other way around, but now there was a dull stabbing pain developing under her kidney. Toledo glared at her before impatiently turning his attention back to the district attorney.

“Hello, everyone,” began the prosecutor, “My name is Simon Rodriguez. I represent the district of San Berndillio county and the state of New Mexico, and it’s ironic the defense should characterize her client as ‘young and inexperienced’, as Mr. Estrada has in fact committed this exact crime already once before. The prosecution will show that at 2:43 pm, Tuesday, October 19th, 2004, Mr. Estrada picked up a cinder block and threw it through the front window of Jared's Jewelry on 2260 Louisiana Blvd. It was his intent to smash the glass of the property then, during the confusion, enter and steal a diamond and silver necklace costing $3,850. This act constituted a criminal trespass and Mr. Estrada did this while the business was open and operating. As a result, the victim, Ms. Bellamy, sustained lacerations on her face and arms from the broken glass…”

Ok now Kim was sure this was the first mention of a fourth charge against David. If Count 4 was a battery, which is what the prosecution seemed to be asserting, they would have needed to notify her about the witness ahead of time. And she was certain she’d never seen this woman before in her life. The prosecutor was a stranger too. Rodriguez kept smugly staring daggers at her as he gave his opening argument. It wasn’t clear what, but he seemed to expect something more than to just win the case. The man looked like an elf, with warm brown eyes, a sharp little face, and a cap of black hair greased down like he was Dracula. While his stature was reminiscent of a lawn jockey, something about the way he smoothly paced the floor made his legs look much longer than the rest of him. In truth, something about him reminded her of Lalo Salamanca, and that only made the baby kick more anxiously in protest.

“Objection!” Kim heaved herself into a standing position, “m-MMMs. Bellamy is a surprise witness. The defense has not been given time to prepare a cross examination, and therefore her testimony should be inadmMMMhis…able”

“Overruled. You had the opportunity to object to this witness in pre-trial. The court cannot make exceptions to accommodate your lack of organization, Ms. Wexler”

That was odd, she thought! She’d been nervous in court more times than she could count, but never before had she developed a stutter like that. She coughed repeatedly, trying to clear her throat from whatever had caused her to get caught on her M’s like that. When she glanced back into Mr. Rodriguez’s eyes, the ethereal tune from that horror movie last night started to ring in her ears again.

La la la la la la la. La la la la la la la.

“The court will now hear the opening arguments of the defense”

She stood up again and cleared her throat. “Good afternoon. I’m Kim Wexler, co-council for the defense. Yes, it is true that David Estrada broke the window of the jewelry store. Yes, it is true that because he entered the store illegally, this was trespassing. But! Any intent to commit larceny had already been abandoned by the time he entered the premises. Store security footage shows that the defendant touched the necklace, but never asported it. The burden is on the prosecution to prove that Estrada at any point intended to permanently deprive “Jared’s” of its property. At worst, he is guilty of an abandoned attempt. As for the battery charges? There is an issue of transferred intent because her injuries occurred during the commision of a separate crime, but my client is innocent until proven guilty”

At this, David interjected, “Yeah! And let the record show I only grabbed the necklace as an act of protest!”

Kim rubbed the palms of both her hands against her forehead slowly. With a gritted smile, she requested a recess.

“Sustained. But you only have three minutes”

She grabbed David by the arm and pulled him back out into the hallway outside the courtroom. “WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” she confronted him.

“Do you know where that diamond necklace came from?! I Googled it! De Beers relies on slavery in the Congo to this day to make a profit. And then more slavery in India to assemble the jewelry. And the courts’ attitude is that as long as it happens overseas, and as long as they’re importing the rocks from middlemen, it’s legal! I wasn’t trying to hurt that lady, but if I ruined her fancy romantic shopping spree because she was standing too close to an artifact of human rights abuses, I can’t sincerely say I’m sorry”

“Do you really want to do the ‘This whole system is out of order!’ thing today? Fine! I’ll go home and eat Cheerios, and you can represent yourself. I would love to be doing that instead right now”

“Not like it would be much difference! All you’ve done is sit there and agree with the prosecutor. Is that what they teach you in law school? How to take it like a bitch?!”

“I have done nothing but bend over backwards for you since we met. Most public defenders would have mentally checked out the moment you rejected a full plea deal and insisted on taking this to trial. I told you it was a bad idea. And yet here I am. Angry that you were stupid enough to commit the same crime twice, angry that you couldn’t just keep your nose clean and work for your grandfather like I told you to, angry that all the strings I pulled for you the first time have been thrown out the window. But I’m here!”

“Oh yeah, thanks so much for that, by the way! That’s right, I took your advice the first time. I went back to my grandpa and begged for a job. I mopped the floors like you said. I scrubbed the toilets like you said. Picked up a pretty nasty stomach virus in the process too. But what you might not have counted on is that my grandfather is an abusive prick!”

“He was the only one who was willing to bail you out for the first cinder block, and he bailed you out this time too”

“You’re right! He has money! He must be a saint. Look I don’t know what nice-guy act he gave you, but you don’t know what he’s like behind closed doors. Are you really going to tell me to go back to him? Like that’s helping keep my life on track? Do you want that on your conscience? If so, I think I’d rather go to jail. I can’t drop the soap no matter where I go; at least in prison it wouldn’t be incest. I mean we all knew it was alway going to be this way anyway, right? Forget protecting people; god forbid an international corporation loses a few shiny stones”

Kim sighed. This was at the same time the most rewarding aspect of working with minors, and the most exhausting. The world hadn’t yet sanded their dreams and principles down to a tiny nub. The job meant having to convince them that putting a little faith into the justice system to work as intended was not, in fact, emblematic of the rise of a fascist dictatorship. Only when we lose faith and start resorting to extralegal methods of expression, is fascism empowered.

“... How much do you need?” she asked in a hushed tone.

“Huh?”

“I can get you emancipated. We can press charges against your grandfather. Find a motel room to move into. I can support you if you promise to stay out of trouble. I’ll write you a check every month. You can start looking into correspondence school. You made a mess in there trying to self-advocate, but you clearly have critical thinking skills. You could go be a lawyer too. I don’t want to see you throw your life away. I admire your passion, and it’s not even that you’re wrong about De Beers. All I’m asking for is a little patience, and for now you let me do the talking”

“I don’t want your money. I want you to do your job. There’s an angle to this, about how I wasn’t stealing the necklace, I was stealing it back. Or… or it’s a free speech issue or something. There’s an angle that could work”

In terms of rule statements, David was objectively wrong. Even if the courts weren’t corrupt, larceny of stolen property was not a defense. A defender would have to be out of her mind to try that strategy. But it was hard not to respect the mischievous, optimistic glint in the kid’s eyes.

“Come on, Ms. Wexler. You know I’m right!”

After much grumbling, she nodded and gave a flat “OK”. Just as her phone buzzed that the three minutes were up.

…

The prosecution called the witness, a glassy-eyed woman named Dawn Bellamy, to the stand. Mostly, Dawn just stared off into the distance with a naive grin, but while being sworn in, she perked up at the mention of god. Her testimony revealed that she had been standing over twelve feet away from the window when it broke. In fact, in Kim’s opinion, the “lacerations” on her face and arms looked more like acne. On cross examination, Kim asked Dawn if she had seen any medical experts about her injuries. Dawn said she did, and presented a note which was (a) written on blank paper as opposed to any physician’s stationary, and (b) not at all specific about what happened to her skin. When Kim requested that Toledo read the letter himself and wait for verification that Dr. Patcher was a licensed doctor before admitting it into evidence, the judge took one brief glance at the note, stated “It doesn’t look like anything to me”, and treated the note as admissible. Then the case took a sharp turn! The witness revealed that she was one month pregnant at the time of the larceny. This led to a protracted and uncomfortable debate about whether Estrada should have known she was pregnant based on her appearance. And Rodriguez acted supremely smug as he made an extremely bizarre decision; he drew a parallel to Sherwood v. Walker to argue that because Dawn’s status as a pregnant woman was a substantial fact, the court should rule based on her status at the time, not based on Estrada’s mistaken belief.

Oh come on, she thought. He didn’t have to make it so easy: “Motion for jury instruction: Sherwood v. Walker set the precedent for mistake of fact in contract law. It has no holding on a criminal case. Not to mention it’s a Michigan case and has no control over New Mexico jurisdiction”

“Motion Denied. Legal precedent can be extrapolated from contract law”

“I’m not even asking that Mr. Rodriguez should amend his conclusion. McDuffie v. State sets a clear precedent that battery against a pregnant victim is a violent felony under the American Career Criminal Act. But McDuffie had reason to believe his victim was pregnant, plus he punched her in the stomach, plus she suffered a miscarriage. Here, the victim suffered no damages”

“Motion Denied”

“Mm- (cough) My concern, your honor, is that when you bring in comparisons to Sherwood, you treat the value of life as too specifically quantifiable. The crime of battery is no longer an offense against a person, but against their value as a commodity to produce value in the future. It’s important to treat a battery against an individual woman the same as a battery against a lone man, and take into account any additional statutes elevating the victim’s status as a protected class. We must treat these protected class statutes as what they are - nothing more, nothing less - when determining a fair sentence. Because the alternative is a double standard in the law that does not, in fact, elevate a pregnant woman’s value above a man’s, but cuts the value of every nonpregnant woman in half. After all, before Walker knew Rose was a fertile cow, he was preparing to send her to the slaughterhouse. I can’t imagine translating such a precedent for livestock onto humans”

She was sweating profusely under these lights. She wanted to take her jacket off, but underneath, she could feel that her boobs had outgrown and spilled out over the top of her blouse. Her shirt and her bra had twisted together into a bunched up wring of fabric, and her skin itched. It was breaking her concentration something awful the way beads of moisture dripped from her underarms.

Toledo beckoned her close to the bench and growled, “Do you want to be held in contempt?”

“NoooOOOOOhh!” The sound that came out of her was deep and animalistic. It worried her how good it felt. That is to say, it made the stomachache much more bearable as a wave of pleasure radiated through her.

“Good. As I was saying, I am prepared to adopt that precedent. As recent as Dred Scott v. Sandford, the US has recognized a value innate to the labor a person could potentially provide in the future…”

She couldn’t believe what she was hearing! She had stood at this table plenty of times, and tolerated old white men vomiting bad standup comedy or failed slam poetry in place of judicial analysis. But this… this was something new! What was even happening?! Who was this guy and what did he think he was doing?!

She opened her mouth to point out the painfully obvious - that the case had been overturned by constitutional amendment over a century ago - but the words wouldn’t cooperate. Her own throat and tongue were betraying her, and all she could say was “Moo! MOOOO!”

Rodriguez continued to lecture the jury about how frail and fragile Ms. Bellamy was. How - seemingly as an act of property damage against Mr. Bellamy - the battery was a serious offense. Kim wanted badly to interrupt him by screaming that the woman was not weak and by extension neither was she, but it was hard to say that convincingly, when she was gripping the banister, fighting vertigo just to find her way back to her seat. The cramp refused to let up. She felt incredibly bloated, and the muscles in her thighs and abdominals were straining under the building feeling of pressure.

She was being scrutinized from every angle; the stubborn incumbency of Judge Toledo, the vacant, placid gaze of the witness, Mrs. Bellamy, David - who wanted to be respectful and avert his gaze, but as a teenage boy - he lacked impulse control, the malicious stare of the district attorney, and finally, the jury, who were seeming more and more 2-dimensional by the moment.

Rip! Rip! Ping! Ping! Ping!

The pencil skirt ripped in two places on both sides of her ass, and the buttons on her jacket shot off in the direction of the gallery. Her massive ripe melon of a stomach hung out for the whole court to see. Veiny stretch marks which hadn’t been there this morning were sprouting up from her pelvis. With her naked breasts exposed, it was obvious that the dampness was not just from her sweat. Her tits felt huge, pendulous, and sore, and milk was starting to leak from her browning nipples. She gasped for air, finally able to breathe freely for the first time this morning. Toledo had abandoned all pretense of professionalism and was leaning out of his seat to get a better view of her. Rodriguez was visibly pitching a tent, and he was just shaking his head side to side as if to say “I told you so”.

At that moment, she was released from the hex on her vocal chords. She straightened her posture. Kim’s face was beet red, nevertheless she tried to keep her head held high.

“If I may please,” she spoke slowly, loudly, and deliberately, “request a recess to change my clothes”

“Uh… Sustained…” Toledo banged the gavel, “I think we got everything we needed. This trial will resume at some time next month”

“Thank you” our heroine said with as much decorum as she could muster. She marched out, holding her left arm over her boobs and keeping the dregs of her skirt together with her right.

David watched her leave, and it took a minute before it occurred to him that he should follow her into the hallway. He found her gulping down water at the fountain and tugged on the sleeve of her jacket.

“What the hell happened?!”

“I don’t know,” Kim answered, exasperated.

“Well are you going to be okay?!”

“I don’t know”

“What do I do now?!”

“The trial will resume in a month. Silver lining, this gives us more time to prepare… I must be having a bad dream. This is all just too weird”

“You think?”

“No. I mean I know every judge in this court. Every district attorney. And I’d never seen either of those guys before. That man did not conduct himself like an experienced judge”

“What does that mean?”

“I don’t know. Best case scenario, we can file a complaint and appeal. Worst case scenario… I just don’t know. Nothing about this was normal”

“Are you scared?”

Their eyes locked, “Don’t do anything until I figure this out, promise? Then you can throw as many bricks as you want”

She turned and headed for the exit at the end of the hallway. When she started to feel tears of humiliation run down her cheeks, she picked up her pace. By the time she reached the door, she was running to escape.

[boldlyexplorational]

Episode 7 "what are little girls made of?"

Chapel episode! Chapel episode! Love to see it, even if it's sad. Don't hate me but I'm so into the new context SNW gives to this episode. That remark Chapel makes about Spock being engaged... Savage! But also so in character! I actually love how sassy and no nonsense og Chapel is. I can't wait to see how they tell this part of Christine's story in SNW, leaving starfleet and the engagement.

There's this sweet little moment when they find out Chapel's husband to be is still alive, Uhura gives Chapel a kiss and a hug. This tos women solidarity gives me life!

I really liked the idea for the plot, and I think connecting it with a member of the crew was a good call because it made it more personal. I was actually surprised by the plot twist of the guy being an android, I'm not that good at guessing this sort of things, so it worked really well on me.

And... Kirk got duplicated again. They just can't get enough of him uh. I think they should have given RoboKirk a suit like the one Andrea had. Tits out was never a problem, so.

Other notable things:

When Kirk implanted hate for Spock as a way to signal that android was an imposter, how very Spirk of him.

Sam Kirk mention!

Kirk being picked up and tossed around by that giant like he was smol was adorable

Rating: 8/10. This episode just meets my personal taste in many ways, I like Android stories, I like Chapel, I like questioning if transferring conscience into an artificial body would save or destroy humanity. It just hits all the right spots. And it also is just the right amount of campy.