#but shes not really equipped to deal with... all of that... and at this early stage shes just like ok man thats ur business

[glamfellens]

astarion: its always a pleasure to see you sauntering over 😏

aeres:

[rootedinrevisions]

Enough for You

SUMMARY: Heavily based on/inspired by Enough for You by Olivia Rodrigo. After months of chasing storms and harboring unspoken feelings, the moment of truth finally arrives. When Tyler returns to the team with someone new by his side, it shatters the hope you secretly held onto. In the aftermath of his abandonment, you're left grappling with heartache, wondering why you were never enough for him. As Tyler tries to make amends for leaving, the conversation takes a painful turn when he confronts the feelings he never knew existed. But some apologies can't fix what’s been broken, and all you want is to go back to the way things were—before you let him into your heart.

WARNINGS: Angst. Unrequited love.

WORD COUNT: 6.3k (sorry, not sorry)

Note: This is angsty as hell! I've been going through some heavy stuff in my personal life that has me feeling extra angsty. This fic is filled with angst and heartbreak so just be aware. This is how I'm coping with what I'm dealing with in my own life. Hope you enjoy xx

TAG LIST: @omgbrianab I @shanimallina87

The bathroom mirror reflected a version of yourself you’d rarely put on display. Your hair was curled just the right way, and your makeup, while subtle, was meticulously done. You hadn’t planned on going all out like this initially, but after scrolling through pictures of girls Tyler had been seen with—girls with flawless hair and expertly done makeup—you couldn’t help but wonder if that was what it would take for him to notice you.

Tyler Owens. The name that had taken up too much space in your mind for the past several months. He was more than just the leader of The Wranglers team or your boss; he was the man you’d fallen for. Hard. And you didn’t just want him to see you as a friend anymore.

The rest of the team was downstairs already, probably gearing up for the day’s shoot. Normally, you’d be there early too, grabbing coffee with Boone or discussing ideas with Lily. Today, though, you needed these extra few minutes. Maybe, just maybe, today was the day Tyler would finally notice you.

You gave yourself a final look, smoothing down your shirt, and headed out of the room. By the time you reached the lobby, the team was already gathered, discussing plans for the day. 

Boone was the first to see you, a wide grin spreading across his face. “Whoa! Look at you! You clean up nice,” he teased, though his tone was genuinely complimentary.

Lily turned at the sound of Boone’s voice and smiled. “You look amazing! What’s the occasion?”

You felt heat rise to your cheeks, but you shrugged it off. “No occasion. Just felt like switching things up.”

The compliments kept coming. Dexter, who was typically more reserved, gave you an approving nod. But the one person you hoped would notice? He hadn’t said a word.

Tyler stood off to the side, his focus on something entirely unrelated, fiddling with his storm-chasing gear on his truck. He didn’t even glance your way, and your heart sank a little.

Boone, always quick to read a room, smirked and nudged Tyler’s shoulder. “Hey, man, what do you think? She’s looking good today, right?”

Tyler paused for a brief moment, barely looking up from his equipment. His expression didn’t change as he muttered, “I’m not really the compliment type, Boone.”

Your stomach dropped at his response. You had been hoping—no, counting—on some kind of reaction, but his indifference stung more than you’d expected. You tried to brush it off, hiding the hurt with a forced smile, but inside, the disappointment was palpable.

Lily shot you a sympathetic look, sensing the tension. 

Boone, never one to let an awkward moment slide, gave Tyler an exaggerated look of disbelief. “Not the compliment type? Man, give her something. She looks great.”

Tyler shrugged as if the whole thing didn’t matter. “She always looks fine,” he said simply and then turned his attention back to his gear.

Fine.

The word echoed in your head, and for the first time that morning, you felt foolish for trying so hard. You had put in all that extra effort to be noticed, to be something more in his eyes, but apparently, "fine" was all you were.

You forced yourself to join in the conversation with the others, but the sting of his words stayed with you. As the group began to move toward the parking lot to load up the vehicles, you fell into step beside Lily. She bumped her shoulder against yours lightly.

“He’s an idiot,” she whispered, offering a small, supportive smile.

You tried to laugh, though it came out hollow. “Yeah, well, I knew that already.”

But knowing it didn’t make it hurt any less.

The Wranglers’ convoy made its way out of town, the early morning sun casting a golden hue over the horizon. The team was running on fumes, both literally and figuratively, so when Boone pulled into a gas station, everyone seemed to breathe a collective sigh of relief. While the others went about refueling the vehicles and stretching their legs, you spotted a small coffee shop across the street.

A chance to bring back some caffeine, but more importantly, a chance to do something for Tyler.

Without thinking twice, you hurried across the road, the familiar smell of roasted beans hitting you as soon as you stepped inside the shop. The bell above the door chimed, and the barista greeted you with a smile. You rattled off two orders: one for yourself and one for Tyler—black coffee, extra shot of espresso. You didn’t even need to ask what he wanted; you’d known his usual for months, committing it to memory in a way that only someone who cared a little too much would.

Within minutes, you were heading back to the gas station, clutching both cups in your hands. A tiny flicker of hope sparked inside you—maybe this would be the moment Tyler noticed. Maybe the fact that you remembered his drink order without needing to ask would mean something to him.

You spotted him leaning against the truck, his arms crossed as he waited for the tank to fill. His focus was elsewhere, probably already thinking ahead to the day’s chase, completely oblivious to the fact that you were heading his way with a small gesture of care.

“Here,” you said, holding out the cup toward him.

Tyler looked down at the coffee, momentarily confused before taking it from your hand. He raised an eyebrow, almost as if he hadn’t expected it.

“Black coffee. Extra shot of espresso,” you said softly, your heart picking up speed as you recited his order, hoping the words would register with him. Hoping that he’d realize you didn’t need to ask because you already knew.

He paused for a moment, his eyes flickering to yours briefly before he gave a slight nod. “Thanks,” he muttered, bringing the cup to his lips and taking his first sip.

That was it. Just a nod. No smile, no acknowledgment of the fact that you’d remembered his exact order, nothing. The flicker of hope you’d felt moments earlier dimmed into something closer to disappointment.

You stood there, feeling a bit like a fool for expecting anything more. After all, this was Tyler Owens—the same Tyler who never gave out compliments, the same Tyler who always kept his emotions locked up tight. Why had you thought this would be any different?

You shifted on your feet, holding your own cup a little tighter. “I thought you might need a pick-me-up,” you added, trying to keep the conversation going, hoping for... something.

He nodded again, glancing back toward the others as Boone finished filling up the tank. “Appreciate it,” he said flatly, his focus already shifting away from you and back to the task at hand.

You forced a smile, though the sting of his indifference was hard to ignore. You weren’t expecting grand gestures, but maybe just a little more than a nod. With the wind knocked out of your sails, you turned and headed toward the other side of the truck, sipping your own coffee, the bitter taste mirroring the feeling settling in your chest.

Lily caught your eye from where she stood talking to Dexter, and she shot you a questioning look as if to say, How’d it go? You gave her a small shake of your head and shrugged, silently communicating that it hadn’t gone the way you’d hoped.

The team loaded back into the vehicles, ready to hit the road again, but as you climbed into your seat, you couldn’t help but feel the weight of it all. The weight of always trying, always hoping—only to come up short.

And the worst part? No matter how much it stung, you couldn’t stop. You couldn’t stop caring, couldn’t stop hoping that maybe, one day, Tyler Owens would notice you the way you’d been noticing him all along.

The Wranglers team hit the open road, the small town shrinking behind them as fields stretched out on either side of the highway. You sat in the front passenger seat of Tyler’s truck, a map spread across your lap, though you both knew you wouldn’t really need it. Tyler had been storm chasing for years, and he could practically navigate these roads in his sleep. Your job as navigator was mostly just for show, a formality, but you took it seriously nonetheless—just like being the DJ.

Tyler drove with one hand on the wheel, the other resting on the console between you, his gaze focused on the road ahead. The rest of the convoy followed behind, the team moving as one unit, always in sync, always chasing the next storm.

You unlocked your phone and scrolled through your Spotify library, stopping at the playlist you had saved specifically for moments like this. The one titled simply “Tyler.” A collection of his favorite songs, the ones you’d spent months curating, learning the words to, and playing on repeat just to feel a little closer to him.

You had watched him during countless drives, noting which songs made him tap his fingers against the steering wheel, which ones he hummed along to, and—on rare occasions—which ones he’d actually sing under his breath. The playlist was like a map of his soul, each song a clue to who he was beneath the surface.

You pressed play, the first song filtering through the truck’s speakers, a familiar beat that you knew he liked. Your heart raced a little as you glanced at him out of the corner of your eye, wondering if he’d notice.

The music filled the space between you, the silence replaced by lyrics you knew by heart—not because they were your favorite songs, but because they were his.

Tyler’s expression didn’t change. He didn’t look over, didn’t comment. He just drove, his eyes fixed on the road as if the music were simply background noise.

You shifted in your seat, trying to hide your disappointment. Maybe he hadn’t realized yet. It was still early in the playlist, after all. You tapped your fingers against your knee, silently mouthing the words to the song, hoping that at some point, he’d notice. That he’d realize you weren’t just playing random songs—you were playing his songs. The ones that made him smile or relax, the ones that you knew by heart because of him.

Another song began, this one more upbeat. You couldn’t help but glance at him again, waiting for some kind of reaction—a nod, a hum, anything to show that he recognized the playlist as his own.

But if he noticed, he didn’t let it show. His face remained unreadable, his focus unbroken as the miles ticked by beneath the tires. He was calm, in control, as always.

You felt the familiar pang of disappointment settling in your chest, but you pushed it down, telling yourself not to get your hopes up. Tyler wasn’t the type to express things outwardly. You knew that. You’d known it from the beginning, but still... a part of you had hoped that maybe, just maybe, this time would be different.

You swallowed the feeling, keeping your gaze out the window, watching the landscape blur past. The music continued, your playlist running through the songs you’d carefully chosen, each one holding a piece of him. You wanted to believe that, at some point, he’d hear it. That he’d realize how much you’d been paying attention all along.

But for now, the road stretched on, and Tyler remained as distant as ever, his silence louder than the music that filled the truck.`

A week later, after a long day of chasing storms, the team had found their way to a small bar on the outskirts of town. The neon lights flickered in the windows, casting a soft glow over the worn-out booths and the dartboard that had seen better days. You followed them inside, but your mind wasn’t on the drinks or the games of pool and darts that the others had already started.

You slipped into a booth in the corner, away from the noise, with your bag slung over your shoulder. From it, you pulled out a book—the book. It was a self-help book you’d noticed Tyler reading last week when he thought no one was watching. You had immediately ordered a copy, telling yourself that it was purely out of interest, but deep down, you knew why. You hoped that if Tyler saw you reading it, he’d think you were smart. Maybe even that you shared the same interests. Maybe he'd even come over and talk to you about it.

The cover felt smooth under your fingers as you opened it, pretending to lose yourself in the words, but really, your eyes kept darting toward the team as they laughed and played darts a few feet away. Tyler stood at the dartboard, one hand gripping a beer, the other lazily aiming for the bullseye. His concentration was unwavering, just as it had been all day on the road, but you couldn’t help but glance his way every few minutes, hoping—wishing—he’d look over and see you.

You settled back against the worn leather of the booth, opening the book to where you’d bookmarked a random page. The words blurred slightly, not because you weren’t capable of understanding them, but because your mind wasn’t truly on the text. Instead, it wandered to the what-ifs, the scenarios where Tyler would walk over, slide into the booth across from you, and ask what you thought of the book. Maybe he’d smile, that rare but breathtaking smile you’d seen a hundred times, and the two of you would actually talk. Not just the usual team banter or logistics about the next chase, but really talk.

But as the minutes passed, the background noise of laughter and clinking glasses felt like a reminder of just how far away that possibility was. Tyler was still over by the dartboard, chatting with Boone as they took turns tossing darts. He hadn’t even glanced in your direction since they’d arrived at the bar.

You tried to focus on the book again, reading the same line twice before finally giving in and glancing at him once more. Nothing. No flicker of recognition that you were there, no acknowledgment of the effort you had put into reading his book, hoping it would make you stand out.

A soft sigh escaped your lips, and you leaned your elbow on the table, resting your chin in your hand. Maybe you were trying too hard. Maybe all the little things—the playlist, the coffee, the book—were just things he’d never notice. Or maybe, and this thought stung the most, maybe you were invisible to him in that way. A friend. A coworker. But nothing more.

You looked down at the book again, reading a few more lines as if they could somehow distract you from the tight knot forming in your chest.

A few minutes later, Boone called out to you, holding up a pool cue as if inviting you to join their game. You shook your head, waving them off with a small smile, holding up the book as an excuse. Boone shrugged and turned back to Tyler, who was lining up his next throw.

For a split second, Tyler’s eyes flicked toward you. Your heart jumped, but before you could even process it, he threw the dart and turned back to the game as if the moment had never happened.

The diner was warm, the kind of warmth that came from too many bodies crammed into small booths and the lingering scent of coffee and fried food in the air. You sat across from Boone, your hands wrapped around a mug of coffee that had gone cold, staring blankly at the chipped rim. The conversation around you was a low hum, drowned out by the thoughts racing through your head.

Tyler had left without a word this morning. Just gone. No explanation, no heads-up. Just a quick exchange with Dexter about her—Kate. The girl from Storm Par. The girl who’d seemed to have swept Tyler off his feet in the last two days. You hated to admit it, but the jealousy gnawed at you, each thought of them together, of him abandoning the team, felt like another crack in your resolve.

Boone nudged your arm, drawing you back to the present. “You alright?” His voice was low, concerned, but you just nodded, forcing a smile.

“I’m fine,” you lied.

Across from you, Ben, the British journalist tagging along with the team, was flipping through his notebook, occasionally scribbling something down. You could tell he was enjoying the chaos of American storm chasing, but his eyes kept flicking toward the empty seat next to you, the one Tyler should have been occupying. Everyone had noticed his absence, but no one had said much. Not directly, anyway.

Lily leaned over, her elbow brushing against Dani as they huddled together over their phones. “He’ll call,” Lily said with forced optimism, glancing at you. “Tyler sometimes does this—goes off on his own for a bit. He’ll be back.”

Dexter and Dani nodded in agreement, but Boone wasn’t so convinced. You weren’t either. Tyler wasn’t just gone. He was with her, and it stung more than you cared to admit.

Night came, and still no word from Tyler. You’d tried calling him once, your stomach twisted in knots, but there was no answer. No response. You wanted to believe Lily and the others, that he would come back, but every passing hour chipped away at that hope.

The next morning, the skies had shifted. Clouds churned ominously in the distance, the kind of promising sight that normally would have Tyler barking orders and loading up the gear. But today, there was just a quiet, palpable tension as the team stood in the parking lot of the motel, debating whether to head out without him.

“I don’t know,” Boone muttered, arms crossed over his chest as he stared at the horizon. “Feels wrong going out without Tyler.”

You felt the same. It felt like a piece of the team was missing, the driving force behind it all, but the skies were waiting. And so was Ben. You glanced at the journalist, who had been watching you closely, eager for the action he’d come all the way from England to document. You couldn’t let his time go to waste.

“We have to go,” you said, your voice steady, even though your insides were anything but. “We’ve got the van and the RV. We can still get some good footage, even without Tyler’s truck.”

The team exchanged glances, unsure. But you stepped forward, taking the lead. “Lily’s drone can get us the close-up shots we need, and we’ve still got the cameras. We can’t afford to wait. We’ve got to keep the channel going, and we need content.”

Dexter raised an eyebrow, impressed by your sudden shift into leadership, but Boone still looked hesitant. “What about Tyler?” he asked, voicing what everyone else was thinking.

You forced a calm you didn’t really feel. “Tyler will catch up with us when he’s ready. Right now, we can’t just sit around. The storm’s not going to wait for us.”

Boone finally nodded, and with that, the decision was made. You piled into the van with Lily and the rest of the crew, leaving behind the uncertainty of where Tyler was, or when he’d come back. Ben hopped in last, his camera at the ready, his excitement barely contained as you pulled out onto the open road.

As you sat in the passenger seat, guiding them toward the brewing storm, a familiar weight settled in your chest. You were used to being the one behind the scenes, managing social media, making sure the team’s content reached the masses. But now, as the makeshift team lead in Tyler’s absence, you couldn’t help but wonder—if he ever did come back, would things ever be the same between you two?

Your fingers hovered over your phone, tempted to try calling him again. But instead, you locked the screen and turned your focus to the skies ahead. You had a team to lead now. Tyler’s absence hurt, but it wasn’t going to stop you.

The morning air hung heavy, thick with the kind of heat that settled into your bones. You were leaning against the side of the van, arms crossed over your chest, trying not to let the frustration bubbling under your skin show. Boone stood beside you, his phone buzzing on the dashboard where he’d tossed it. You both glanced at the screen as Tyler’s name flashed across it.

Boone let it ring, his jaw clenched tight. After a few seconds, it went to voicemail. Neither of you said a word, but the tension between you spoke volumes. Tyler was trying to reach out, but neither of you were ready to hear him out just yet.

Moments later, Lily’s phone chimed. She didn’t hesitate, picking it up and putting it on speaker before Tyler had a chance to duck out. "Hey, Tyler," she greeted, her voice neutral.

"You ready for the next chase?" she asked, her tone deceptively light, but you could hear the undercurrent of curiosity.

But before she could say anything more, Tyler cut her off. “No, we’re gonna need you guys for something.”

Lily raised an eyebrow, and Boone shot you a sideways glance, his brow furrowing in confusion. You mirrored his look. We’ll? What did Tyler mean by that?

Lily pressed, “Do we need to drive all the way to Sapulpa?”

Tyler’s voice was quick to respond. “No, no. We’ll come to you.”

That we echoed in your mind, sinking deeper with each moment of silence that followed. You exchanged another look with Boone, but neither of you said anything. There was an uneasy feeling settling in, but none of you knew exactly what to make of it.

Minutes later, a text from Tyler buzzed through to your phone. You looked down to see the name and address of a trailer company. “What is this?” you muttered, sharing the text with Boone and the others.

“I guess we’re about to find out,” Dexter said, climbing into the van with a shrug.

When you arrived at the lot, confusion still lingered in the air as the team climbed out of the van. The parking lot was full of trailers, rows upon rows of them in every size and shape imaginable, glinting under the afternoon sun. The purpose of being here was still unclear.

Then you spotted Tyler’s truck pulling in. The familiar hum of the engine sent your heart rate spiking, but it wasn’t just him that got out.

Kate. She emerged from the passenger side, her face lit up with that same easy smile she’d been wearing ever since the two of them had met.

You felt the knot tighten in your stomach, the same one that had been there since she’d entered the picture two days ago. Dani was the first to break the silence. “You finally made it,” she called, a hint of relief in her voice.

Tyler gave her a smile as he stepped up to the group. “Ben, you stuck around,” he greeted the journalist, shaking his hand as Ben nodded.

“Turns out there’s more to this story than I thought,” Ben said, eyeing Tyler with curiosity.

Tyler grinned. “We got a new ending for you.”

Meanwhile, Dexter raised his hand in a mock salute toward Kate. “Look who it is. City girl.” He shot her a grin that was almost welcoming. Almost.

Lily wasn’t far behind. “What’s up, Kate?” she asked, sounding a little too casual as she strolled over to them.

Kate smiled, sliding easily into conversation with Dexter and Lily like she had been part of the crew all along. You watched as they started chatting about storm footage, Lily showing her clips on her phone from the chase the team had gone on without Tyler and Kate. It wasn’t just that they were talking, though. It was the way Kate’s eyes lit up at the footage, the way she leaned in closer, asking about Lily’s drone.

"Can you rig that drone to collect data?" Kate asked, her interest piqued.

Lily nodded, explaining how Cairo, her drone, worked and all the modifications she’d made. Watching Kate take such an interest in the team felt like watching her slip further into Tyler’s world. A world that, for so long, had felt like yours.

Tyler, meanwhile, was making his way over to Boone, clapping a hand on his shoulder. "Hey, buddy," he began, his voice sincere. "I’m sorry."

Boone didn’t look at him, his jaw set. "Man, you abandoned me," Boone muttered, his voice tight with hurt. "I don’t know nothin’ about no makeup-"

Tyler cut him off with a smirk. “How about we launch some new rockets?”

Boone’s expression shifted, the tension breaking as he perked up. "You said rockets?" His tone was a mix of surprise and cautious excitement.

Tyler nodded, a grin forming. “I did.”

For a moment, it felt like the old Tyler and Boone—the way they always found common ground no matter what. But that still left you.

Tyler turned toward you, taking a few steps in your direction, his face softening. "I’m sorry," he began, but before he could get out anything more, Dani and the salesman walked up.

The apology hung in the air, unfinished, as you stood there, watching him. He hadn’t called you, hadn’t reached out directly. And now, standing in front of you with Kate by his side, the apology felt... hollow.

The van's engine hummed steadily as you followed behind Tyler’s truck, the road stretching endlessly ahead. You hadn’t spoken a word since leaving the trailer lot. The silence between you and Lily was thick, heavy with the weight of everything unsaid. Outside, the sky was bruised with the remnants of a setting sun, casting long shadows over the landscape. But inside the van, it felt like the world had dimmed.

Your eyes were locked on the truck ahead, on the faint silhouette of Tyler’s head just visible through the back window. You knew Kate was sitting there, right beside him, and the thought twisted in your chest like a knife. You blinked, trying to hold it together, but the tears came anyway, silent and hot as they slid down your cheeks.

Lily glanced over at you, her brows knitting together in concern. She didn’t say anything at first, just watched you quietly, giving you space. But you could feel her eyes on you, the way she hesitated before speaking.

“Hey…” her voice was soft, cautious. “You okay?”

It was a ridiculous question, really, but it was all she could say. You shook your head slightly, trying to wipe the tears away with the sleeve of your jacket, but they kept coming, harder now.

Lily sighed, her hand reaching across the seat to give your arm a gentle squeeze. She didn’t need to say it—you both knew. She had been the only one who knew. The only one you had confided in about how you felt about Tyler. She had believed, just like you, that maybe he’d wake up and see what was right in front of him.

But now... now it was clear. He had found someone else. Someone more exciting, more interesting. Someone like Kate.

The tears fell faster, and you pressed your fist to your mouth, trying to keep the sobs at bay. But your mind wouldn’t stop, wouldn’t let you escape from the reality of it. Tyler hadn’t just left you behind. He had abandoned you without a second thought, without even realizing how much it hurt. One second he was there, and the next he was gone. Gone like you meant nothing.

And you were left wondering what you’d done wrong. Why you were never enough.

Lily’s voice broke through the whirlwind of thoughts. “You know… none of this is your fault, right?”

You let out a shaky breath, but didn’t respond. How could it not be? You must have done something—been something—wrong for him to walk away like that, like you didn’t even matter.

“He’s a fool, you know,” Lily continued, her voice firmer now. “I really thought he’d pull his head out of his ass eventually. Realize what’s right in front of him.”

You swallowed hard, your voice barely above a whisper. “He never even saw me.”

Lily didn’t argue, and you were grateful for that. Because it was true. Tyler hadn’t seen you—not the way you wanted him to. You had spent so long hoping, waiting for him to notice, to realize that you loved him more than anyone ever could. But he didn’t. He found someone else instead, someone new and shiny like Kate.

Your thoughts spiraled further, the pain gnawing at you from the inside. You could barely breathe through it. God, Tyler couldn’t have cared less about someone who had loved him more. Loved him with everything you had.

“I’d say he broke my heart,” you whispered, your voice trembling, “but I think he broke a lot more than that.”

Lily’s hand was back on your arm, squeezing tighter this time. “You deserved better. You still do.”

You nodded, though it didn’t feel like that right now. All you’d ever wanted was to be enough for him. Just enough to be seen, to be cared for the way you cared for him. But that had been too much to ask.

The miles passed by, the road stretching endlessly ahead, just like this ache inside you. You watched the truck in front of you, the taillights glowing faintly as Tyler drove on, oblivious. You couldn’t help but wonder if he ever thought of you at all—or if he was too caught up in Kate’s orbit now to even notice the wreckage he’d left behind.

You turned to look at Lily, her eyes full of empathy. “I don’t think I ever stood a chance, did I?” you asked quietly.

Lily’s lips pressed into a thin line, and she shook her head softly. “No. I don’t think it was ever about you. He’s just… lost. But that doesn’t make it hurt any less.”

You nodded, feeling that hollow truth settle in your bones. You weren’t sure what hurt more—the fact that he didn’t see you or the realization that you might have been waiting for someone who was never really yours to begin with.

The air was still, thick with the calm before the storm. The team had scattered, gathering near the RV to eat lunch and regroup before they moved on. Laughter echoed from where Dani, Dexter, and Lily sat in lawn chairs, enjoying the brief pause in the chase. Ben, Boone, and Tyler stood near Tyler's truck, their conversation drowned out by the low hum of the wind sweeping across the open field.

But you weren’t with them. You hadn’t been all day.

You sat alone in the van, the door open, your legs pulled up to your chest as you rested your forehead on your knees. Your eyes were closed, trying to block out the ache that had settled deep inside your chest. The tears had dried, but your face still felt tight from the tracks they left behind. You just wanted to disappear, to not feel the way you did.

Tyler’s laughter drifted over from where he stood with the others, and the sound made your heart twist painfully. He had no idea, no clue what was going on inside you.

Until Lily caught his eye.

She saw him glance toward the van, saw him hesitate, his body half-turned as if he wanted to approach but wasn’t sure if he should. She knew it was only a matter of time before he’d find out—before your carefully hidden feelings were laid bare. The thought of you sitting there, hurting like this, was eating her alive.

With a deep breath, Lily made the decision. She walked over to where Tyler stood, tapping him on the shoulder.

“Tyler, can we talk for a second?”

He glanced down at her, eyebrows raised in curiosity. “Yeah, sure. What’s up?”

Lily glanced toward you in the van, then back at Tyler. Her voice dropped to a more serious tone. “It’s about her. I think... I think you need to know something.”

Tyler’s expression changed instantly. His eyes followed hers to where you sat, and he felt the weight of her words before she even said them. “What is it?”

Lily sighed. “She’s not just upset about the team. About you leaving. It’s more than that.” She hesitated, then spoke more quietly. “She’s been hurt by you bringing Kate on board. Especially without saying anything.”

Tyler frowned, confusion flickering across his face. “Hurt? Why would—”

“She cares about you, Tyler,” Lily interrupted. “More than you realize.”

The words hit him like a punch to the gut. He stood there, frozen for a moment, processing what Lily had just told him. “Wait… you mean…?”

Lily nodded. “She’s had feelings for you for a long time. And when you left, it broke her. Then when you came back… with Kate...” Lily trailed off, not needing to finish the thought. The silence said enough.

Tyler felt the weight of it all settling on his shoulders. Guilt gnawed at him, the realization sinking in. He looked back toward you, sitting alone in the van, your back to him.

“Damn…” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. “I didn’t know.”

“I know,” Lily replied softly. “But now you do.”

Tyler gave her a nod, his jaw clenched as he turned and started walking toward the van. His footsteps were slow, hesitant. The closer he got, the clearer it became—he hadn’t just hurt you by abandoning the team. He’d hurt you far worse without even realizing it.

He stopped halfway to the van, watching you. He could see it now—the tension in your shoulders, the way your head was bowed like you were trying to hold everything inside. It gutted him. But he wasn’t sure if approaching was the right thing to do.

After a moment, he made the choice. He walked the rest of the way to the van, coming to a stop just beside the open door. You didn’t look up at first, didn’t acknowledge his presence. But you knew he was there.

He sat down beside you, careful not to sit too close. The silence between you was thick, heavy with everything unspoken.

“I’m sorry,” Tyler started, his voice low. “For leaving. For abandoning you guys. It wasn’t fair to put all that on you.”

You still didn’t look at him, but he saw the way your hands tightened around your knees.

“I saw the footage,” he continued, trying to offer something, anything that might make it better. “You did great. You really stepped up. Led the team better than I could have.”

You said nothing, just kept your gaze down, the ache in your chest only growing with each word. None of this was what you needed to hear.

Tyler let out a sigh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Look… I talked to Lily. She told me…”

At that, you finally lifted your head, your heart lurching at the sound of those words. She told him. You felt the sting of betrayal—Lily had said too much.

“Tyler, don’t,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion.

But he didn’t stop. He needed to say it, needed to acknowledge it. “I didn’t know, okay? I didn’t know you felt that way. And I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt you.”

You closed your eyes, your breath shaky as you tried to keep it together. “Please… just don’t.”

But he pressed on, his voice softer now. “I do care about you. I really do. But not in the way you want me to.”

Those words felt like a slap, and you swallowed hard, fighting the tears that threatened to fall again.

“I don’t need your apology,” you finally said, your voice trembling despite your best efforts to stay strong. “I don’t need your pity either.”

Tyler’s brows furrowed. “It’s not pity. I just… I want to make things right.”

You shook your head, letting out a bitter laugh that was more of a sob. “You can’t fix this, Tyler. You can’t just… say you’re sorry and make it all go away.”

He watched you, pain flickering in his eyes. He hated that he had done this to you, hated that his actions had caused you this kind of hurt.

“I never asked for much,” you whispered, your voice breaking. “I just wanted to be enough. Enough for you to notice me. To see me.”

Tyler looked away, guilt settling in his gut like a lead weight. “I’m sorry.”

The words fell flat. Meaningless.

You turned away from him, trying to gather the pieces of yourself that felt so shattered. “It was just a stupid crush anyway,” you muttered, forcing a small, hollow laugh. “I’ll get over it.”

But both of you knew that wasn’t true. It wasn’t just a crush. It had been so much more than that. And now… now it felt like you had lost something you couldn’t get back.

Tyler sighed, rubbing his hands over his face. “If there’s anything I can do—”

“There’s nothing you can do,” you interrupted, your voice firmer now. “I just want to go back to before. Before I met you. Before I let myself believe there was a chance.”

He stayed silent, not knowing what else to say. He had broken something inside you, and no amount of apologies would fix it.

You wiped your eyes, standing up from the van. “I’ll be fine,” you said quietly, though it was more for yourself than for him.

And with that, you walked away, leaving Tyler sitting there, watching you go, knowing he had lost something he didn’t even realize he had.

[the-peak-tmnt]

Hey The Neon Void readers, quick update from the author's sister!

(art commission by @kaysdenofchaos)

Hi readers of The Neon Void fanfic. This is the author’s older sister. She’s been getting a lot of fan art and asks lately. She’s sent me screenshots of a few unanswered ones looking for advice on how to respond.

While all the love and support of TNV is genuinely appreciated, my sister @sugarpasteltmnt is not equipped to respond to a small handful of these asks/comments that are, quite frankly, inappropriate.

Sugarpastels is not a therapist, and she’s certainly not an internet stranger’s therapist.

She’s an adult with an extremely demanding and stressful job for a very large client. Some of you have already experienced and enjoyed her work IRL without knowing it. Her company is close to finishing another project that will bring a lot of joy to hundreds of thousands of people every year, but working on a project of that scale is extremely stressful.

She is writing this fanfic for fun. TNV is a way for her to decompress and put her creative energy towards something other than work.

What’s not fun is coming home to asks/comments from readers who are projecting their own struggles/mental health onto TNV, and even Sugarpastels herself, and demanding some sort of attention from her over it.

Let’s be real: it’s fun to watch our blorbos suffer! So much of fandom is just us putting our favorite characters in Situations because it’s fun. Simple as that. But I think another reason TNV has resonated so strongly with readers is because of the way Sugarpastels writes the internal struggles of these characters.

We are both aware that TNV deals with mental health topics. Since the early days of “modern” fandom, fanfiction has been a way for people to explore complicated, difficult and sometimes even taboo subjects. There’s no shortage of complex feelings being explored in TNV, which is why we’re all having so much fun reading it.

But that’s all it is; an exploration. Sugarpastels is not a mental health expert. I’ve read a handful of books on PTSD and mindfulness for research while writing my own fanfic, and I would never consider myself prepared to help someone else.

It’s okay if you relate to things from TNV. I know I do! Again, fanfic has always been a way to read about things rarely dealt with (or handled poorly) in published fiction/tv shows/movies. I will always argue one of the greatest things about fanfiction and other fanworks is being able to see ourselves and our own struggles through our favorite fictional characters.

But Sugarpastels is not a fictional character. She’s a real person. Most importantly (to me at least) she’s my little sister, and this big sister cannot handle watching some of her readers expect more of her than is appropriate.

So I’m asking you to please be mindful of what you ask/say to not just her, but literally everyone on the internet. Unless you’re chatting with someone regularly, they do not know you. Whether it’s friends, family, teachers, coaches, etc, there are people in your life who know you personally, and are therefore better equipped to help you than a stranger on the internet.

Sugarpastels is so full of empathy that it’s hard to not feel for you when you send things like this. But it just isn’t fair to put that kind of unnecessary pressure on someone who is, at the end of the day, just trying to have some fun writing about ninja turtles bein’ sad.

(That being said, PLEASE DON’T BE SCARED TO SEND HER ASKS AND FAN ART!!! They make her day every single time and are seriously so, so appreciated. She’s texting me about it constantly how much she loves all of TNV’s readers. This whole post is really directed at an extremely small percentage of her readers, but there have been enough I felt something needed to be said.)

[flemingsfreckles]

Physio’s Daughter pt.5

Jessie Fleming x Reader

Read the previous parts HERE

Warnings: cursing

WC: 4.0k

A/N: hi :) enjoy (if you’re reading this the same day it was posted and want to help make a decision on the future of this story go vote on the poll on my feed)

The players ended up with way more downtime than the staff during the week before you all left for Paris they were really only responsible for keeping their bodies ready to play and showing up to get on the plane. You and the rest of the staff had meetings, more paperwork, you all had to pack your equipment away, it took more hours of your time than you had expected.

This meant you had to turn down Jessie on three different occasions when she asked you to coffee.

The first time Jessie shook off the rejection. Not thinking much about it, you were obviously busy with work and didn’t have the time that day.

“I’m wrapping up here. Want to grab a coffee this afternoon?” She stuck her head into your office.

“I would Jessie but I’m not out of here until 5 tonight. Plus should we be grabbing coffee?” You give her a questioning look. You had agreed to friends now, friends grabbed coffee but it felt like a gateway to something more with her.

“Oh, okay, sorry I didn’t realize you had to work so late.”

She shook you off, walking back over to her locker to grab her stuff and leave for the day, having to stop alone for coffee.

She didn’t stop asking, one thing about that girl, she loved to stop by your office and she also loved to get coffee.

“Coffee? Do you have a lunch break at some point?” Jessie’s head once again swung around your office door early in the morning when players were released for a couple hours break before having to return in the evening for film.

You sigh throwing your hands up, gesturing to the pile of papers in front of you “I’m supposed to get a lunch but I think I have more travel paperwork to do during that time, I don’t know Kelly from the administration called and-”

“Don’t worry about it.” You notice the tight lipped half smile she gives you. You so badly wanted to say fuck it to the paperwork and go get coffee with Jessie, you’d get coffee with that woman every second of every day if you could. But you had work. You were at work and she was your coworker.

Insistent on getting you to say yes, Jessie offers another plan. “What about tomorrow morning since it’s a later start? Before we come in?”

“Tomorrow I have to be here at normal times, it’s just you guys who get to come in late.” You give her a frown.

“Look if you don’t want to come to coffee with me, that’s okay, just say that though.” Her voice is quiet but she looks frustrated with you. Her eyebrows furrowed, upset lines on her forehead.

“No! Jessie, I do! I do want to get coffee with you, just, this isn’t a great week. I’ve still got a ton of work to get done before we leave. As the newbie on the staff I get all the simple but time consuming work no one else wants. Unfortunately the next few weeks will be just as crazy for both of us.”

“Okay.” She turns to leave “I’m sorry for bothering you.” Before you can really stop her to explain that she’s not a bother and honestly the short chats you get with her are the highlight of your day, she exits the door. And you're left alone in your office, a massive pile of paperwork to still get done.

With only two days left before you had to fly to Paris you were trying to get most of your work done today. You didn’t want to have to deal with work and the stress of packing tomorrow. You curse yourself for not packing sooner. You end up in the office until it’s dark outside checking your watch and seeing it was 7:30 at night. Your mom had left the office two hours ago, giving you a kiss on the head and telling you not to stay up too late.

You focus in, getting tunnel vision on the paperwork, racing through the stack of papers, until your phone goes off.

Jessie Fleming: what time do you have to be in tomorrow?

A text from Jessie has your phone vibrating in your lap. You pick it up and respond, wondering why she would need to know.

You: 5:30

You: Do you need treatment? Is your calf alright?

Jessie Fleming: So the facility will be open at 5:30? Calf is fine but I’m trying to get in some extra recovery and stretching, feeling a bit tight after today's work.

You: Yeah it should be, for all I know I might still be here when you show up.

Jessie Fleming: You’re still there?

You: I am

You: sent an image

You send Jessie a selfie of you, smiling in your desk chair, a significantly smaller stack of papers than she saw you with earlier in the day.

Jessie Fleming: sent an image

The image is her, in what you assumed was her Canadian apartment bed, a soft smile on her face, her head resting on a pillow with light gray cover on it. What also stands out to you is the way her sheet is pulled up, just under her collarbones. You can see her collarbones, she wasn’t wearing a shirt.

You: Why are you in bed this early?

You: Do you sleep shirtless?

You regret hitting send on the second message when you actually see that she’s typing.

Jessie Fleming: That’s professional to ask

Jessie Fleming: But yes

Jessie Fleming: Most of the time

Jessie Fleming: Obviously not when I have travel roommates or anything, but I’m in my own place for the next few days so I’m enjoying it before a lot of hotels with Janine.

Jessie Fleming: And I’m in bed because I’m watching a documentary and I’ve been told to get as much sleep as I can by the training staff at work.

Jessie Fleming: Especially this new young girl, she has been on my case about taking care of myself and whatever, but she’s cute so I gave her a pass.

The mention of Janine has your mind thinking back to the other day, Janine grabbing Jessie and whispering to her before she gave you a look that felt like she suddenly knew everything. You wanted to ask Jessie about it but now probably wasn’t the best time.

You: I sleep like that too, more comfortable

You: I’m sure that girl is just looking out for you.

Jessie Fleming: I know, right? I tried to tell that to so many of my teammates, none of them listen.

Jessie Fleming: stop texting me, go back to work so you can go home.

You: you’re the one texting me

Jessie Fleming: shhhhh

You: 🙄

You put your phone away, putting it on silent so there was no temptation to text Jessie, having no idea if she had responded. You finish your paperwork, finally standing up your back and knees both cracking as you stretch. You check you phone as you walk to the car, seeing it was 8:22. You’d have to go home, get dinner, shower, all to get up at 4:30 to be at work by 5:30.

A message from Jessie sits on your screen. You debate texting her back but you don’t want to wake her if she’s already gone to sleep.

Jessie Fleming: Have a good night, hope you’re not at work too late :)

When you sit back at your desk the next morning you feel deja vu, feeling like you never left. The only difference is there is no longer a pile of work in front of you, you thank yourself for staying to complete it all last night. You lean forward letting your head rest on your desk for a moment.

“Hi!” Jessie comes around the corner of your office, sounding way too chipper for 5:30 in the morning, but then again she was able to be in bed at 7:30. You look up to her to see her carrying two coffees. She approaches you and sticks her hand out offering you one of the drinks. You were so grateful, you had opted for 5 minutes of extra sleep in the morning instead of getting a coffee and you were starting to regret that decision.

“Should you really be showing up to my office with coffee? You do remember what happened last time you did that, right?” You question her, squinting at her across your desk and sending a glance to the wall where she had pinned you.

“Maybe that’s why I’m doing it, maybe I liked what happened last time.” She pauses, tilting her head, thinking back to the memory. “Except not when your Mom walked in, I didn’t like that, that was terrifying.” A quick grimace follows by a smile comes across her face.

“Jessie, we can’t.”

“I know, I know.” She sounds defeated. “I just figured since going out for coffee doesn’t really fit into your schedule right now, I’d just bring it to you. I promise I’m not trying to get anything out of you.” She sits down in the seat across from you.

“How late were you here last night?” Jessie’s phone buzzes on the table, she ignores it.

“Just before 9.”

“Oh wow, I was asleep by then.” You envy her early bedtime.

“Yeah so I am incredibly grateful for this, thank you.” You shake your coffee cup as her phone lights up with another notification. This time your eyes trail to it. You’re not trying to look at her messages but you just can’t help but glance at the lit up screen.

Jessie noticed your eyes' quick movement toward her phone, “Sorry that’s just Janine, I told her I was coming in to do some early recovery and she’s giving me a hard time about it.”

“What do you mean?”

“She’s just teasing me.” She pauses, “about you.” She uses her coffee cup in her hand to point at you.

“Oh, did you tell her? She gave me a weird look the other day, after you came back and we hugged in the training room, you two walked out together and she sort of stared at me. So did you tell her? About the kiss I mean?” Finally getting an appropriate time to ask what was up with Janine’s look.

“It may have slipped out, one of the times I was talking about you. But she’s been teasing me about you since before that.” Jessie looks down to type back to Janine on her phone.

“Jessie!” Her head snapped back up when she heard you scolding her name. Knowing someone else knows about your kiss, someone you didn’t yet know well enough, makes you uneasy. “You can’t just be telling people that!”

“It’s Janine, she’s my best friend, she knows me too well, she knew something happened and asked. I didn't think it would be a big deal, she’s not going to tell anyone.” Jessie defends herself.

“I get that you think that Jessie, but if she slips up, next thing the whole team knows, then it gets out, you’ll get in trouble for sleeping with the student trainer, who’s 4 years younger than you.” You were spiraling, you’re not sure if you believe what you’re saying or if your mom had just scared you into it. You didn’t want your own career to be at risk and you definitely didn’t want Jessie getting in trouble.

“We haven’t slept together, plus you’re an adult, it’s not like I’m 20 and you’re 16! We’re both grown.”

“I know that, but good luck telling that to anyone else, they won’t listen!”

“I really didn’t mean to tell her, it just sort of slipped out and I’m sorry. I didn’t think it would be an issue.” Jessie crosses her arms across her chest, she feels less warm than usual, less friendly, less inviting.

Only, it felt like it was a problem that she had told people. You weren’t sure why Jessie would think it was okay to go around telling people about your kiss without at least checking in with you. A small bubble of frustration with the woman sitting across from you started to build.

“Jessie, if people find out I could get fired! Sure, it might temporarily make your image bad but you’re too damn good, you’ll stay Captain, you’ll keep getting your call ups, keep being desired by different clubs, it won’t ruin your career like it could mine.”

“Nothing is going to get out, nothings going to happen, it’s not that big of a deal!” Now Jessie is raising her voice at you slightly. She’s leaning across your desk.

“Maybe it doesn’t seem like that big of a deal that to you, but it is to me.” You yell back, thankful that no one else was in at the office yet. You take a breath realizing this argument was not something you needed to be doing at 5:30 in the morning. “You should probably go do your recovery. I have things to get done” You point to the doorway.

“Oh.” It’s obvious the sadness on Jessie’s face and in her voice. A sudden change from her argumentative demeanor. “Yeah, I’m going to do that.” She pushed back from your desk. “I’m sorry.”

You let her walk out without saying anything. She doesn’t close your office door on her way out. Feeling stupid about the argument, you let your forehead come crashing back onto your desk with a loud thud, a lot harder than you intended.

“You okay?” You hear Jessie ask, hearing the sound of your head against your desk from the other room.

“Yeah, all good.” You groan back. You didn’t want her to care and feel the need to check on you. You know you shouldn’t care about he either but you can’t help yourself.

Despite being quite annoyed with Jessie at the moment, you’re unable to look away every time she passes by your door, doing exercises or walking across the room to get equipment. Time goes on and then you hear her digging in the ice cooler, the sound of a plastic bag and some shuffling around.

“Stupid wrap.” Hearing her talking to herself you stand up from your chair, it was your job after all to help with these things. You see her struggling to hold and secure a bag of ice she had made to her calf.

“Let me help you.” You offer empty hands to take the ice bag from her, grabbing the wrap and squatting in front of her to help her get it tight on her leg.

“Thanks.” She gives you a smile, the way she was grinning looking down at you sent a shiver through your body.

“Is it still treating you okay?” You look up at her from where you’re kneeling in front of her.

“Yeah it’s been good, just being overly cautious with it still, that’s why I’m doing all this.” She points down where your hands were wrapping the ice bag. You just nod, returning your focus to what you were doing instead of staring up at the girl’s pretty brown eyes.

You let the silence sit between the two of you for only a second before you break it.

“I’m sorry for how I reacted in the office just now. I think I’m just a little paranoid, we’re adults, we’re allowed to do what we’re doing technically. I just didn’t think you’d be going around talking about me and the fact that you kissed me.” You stand up.

“To be fair, I’m not going around talking about you to everyone, it’s really just been to Janine, she made some comments about you before we had even really talked much, she knows me too well. She knew I was interested, so she made some comments about me finding you pretty to which I blushed and she was onto me right away apparently I’m not great at hiding my crushes.” She looks down at her feet.

“I just freaked out, knowing that someone else knows that you had me against the wall, in my office.”

“If it helps, she doesn’t know I pinned you to the wall.” Jessie’s face is now a bright red. It’s suddenly very obvious to you how close the two of you we’re standing, face to face. It’s apparent that you can make out all the little details of her face, where each freckle sat across her nose and cheeks, you could see it all. Despite still being upset and frustrated with Jessie for telling Janine about your previous kiss, you suddenly don’t care and have the desire to kiss her all over again.

“Jessie.” You stare at her lips while saying her name. You don’t know if she noticed you’re staring, but her tongue runs over her bottom lip, wetting it.

“What?”

“Don’t, what, me. You know what.” Your eyes don’t move from Jessie’s lips.

“No I don’t. You’ll have to enlighten me.” You do, leaning in your hands finding her face you pull her toward you. Your lips meet hers, they’re warm and soft and plump against yours. Her hands find your hips, pulling you against her hard. Her grip is tight, it feels safe. This time you’re able to finish your kiss, both of you pulling away just before you debate sliding your tongue against her lips.

“You really should stop bringing coffee to my office I guess, it always seems to end like this.” You let out once you both breathe for a second. Jessie lets out a soft laugh.

You hear the door to the training room open and you jump away from Jessie, turning to pretend to organize something, finding nothing, everything already being packed up. This leaves you just standing there looking at the wall. You and Jessie both look over to see Janine standing there, coffee in one hand, training bag in the other and a smirk across her face.

“Well you two aren’t suspicious at all.” She says sarcastically as she walks from the doorway further into the training room and in your direction. “I’d recommend actually doing something to make it look like you two weren’t just doing what I think you were.” You can’t read her tone as she speaks to you. “Looking at imaginary things on the wall doesn’t really work as a good cover.” She stops behind you to speak softly only to you. You stay facing the wall, not wanting to turn and let either of the players in the room see how bright red your cheeks are.

“I’m going to go change, I’ll be back in probably 5 minutes, behave yourselves.” Janine says to both of you, she walks away into the changing room.

“Whoops.” You turn back to look at Jessie who is still standing where you kissed her. You both have matching blushes on your face.

“At least it wasn’t my mom this time.” You shrug at her, trying to make light of the situation again.

“I guess,” she shrugs back.

“But seriously Jessie, we can’t keep doing this, we leave for Paris in less than 36 hours. You have to go, be focused, be this team's leader, we can’t, I can’t be distracting you.”

“I know.”

“So that means no more surprise coffees, no more private meetings, like Janine said, we have to behave. Strictly professional from now on. No more of this.” You use a finger to point between the two of you.

“Strictly professional, got it.” She nods at you but her smile tells you she’s not taking you seriously.

“I’m serious this time Jessie.” You try your best to be stern with her.

“So am I.” You were both lying through your teeth, and you both knew it but neither of you were going to call each other out and say anything.

“Or just until the Olympics are over.” You add, hoping she’ll maybe be interested in whatever the two of you were doing come the end of the games.

“Until it's over.” She flashes you a smile before turning to leave, following in the direction Janine went to change. She flashes you a smile before heading through the doors. You move back into your office leaning against the desk.

“Hey.” You jump as Janine flies around the corner of your office door. She walks in closing the door behind you.

“Okay I don’t have a lot of time, but I need to talk to you really quick.”

“What’s up?” You move behind the desk, looking for her file pulling it out. You start to open it and Janine’s hand comes down on it, closing the folder hard.

“This isn’t about me.” She’s staring down at you as you sink back into your chair.

You realized exactly what this was about. “Oh.”

“If you so much as hurt a hair on her head-”

“I won’t.” You interrupt.

“I wasn’t finished.” You nod, letting her finish. “Jessie is a special human and quite frankly she doesn’t need you. She’s perfect on her own, she’s strong and independent and she doesn’t need you, but she wants you, so I’m going to respect that, but please let her focus on this tournament. I don’t know what you two are really doing, she’s been pretty tight lipped, but please. She’s smart but she might not think straight with her crush brain, she might think she can handle starting something with you during this tournament, but she can’t. She needs to be focused. She’d hate herself down the line if she let someone get in her head and mess with her playing. She’s worked her life for these tournaments. This team needs her focused, not distracted because of you.” Janine rants at you.

“I know. We’ve discussed it. I won’t be a distraction to her or to anyone. I promise, I want what’s best for her and the whole team.” You mean it, you want what’s best for the team, and you don’t want to distract Jessie or anyone, you saw how hard they all worked and would hate to be the reason anything went wrong.

“You seem like a good person, and given that Jessie likes you so much, you must be. So I’m going to trust you.” Her hand comes off the file on your desk.

“Janine! Come play Teqball with me!” Jessie hollers through the training room.

“Ahh the queen of Canada awaits.” Janine says, looking at you. She turns to leave, her hand on the doorknob. “Just so you know, I’m serious, don’t hurt her, I’ll make your life miserable.” The way she spoke with still a large smile while telling you she’d ruin your life was slightly terrifying, but very much fitting for her Canadian personality.

“I know.” You just nod. And you did know. It wouldn’t just be Janine coming after you if you messed up with Jessie her entire team would hate you. If you distracted her from the tournament the country of Canada would hate you. You’d never get to work for a Canadian team, you’d never get to live that down. Your nerves build up a bit, even though you had no intentions to hurt Jessie ever, things happen, life happens.

Your spiral of nerves is diminished as you hear Jessie’s laugh carrying through the room. Just her laugh made you smile, your nerves ease. You were in deep, probably in too deep, but there wasn’t anything you could do now, except go to Paris and do your best to just be coworkers with Jessie. You needed to be invisible and not a distraction..

So that’s what you did. Or at least tried to do.

[caligvlasaqvarivm]

What do you think about Equius and Eridan's ship? I think this is a pretty entertaining idea (I'm aware that they don't really tolerate each other, but maybe they could share their problems with each other and help each other?)

I won't tell people what they should and shouldn't ship, but it's unsupported by canon & I personally don't think they'd be a good fit for each other, because Equius is kind of a prude who's genuinely made uncomfortable by Eridan's incredibly strong emotional neediness, and Eridan needs attention from his friends and especially romantic partners, which Equius isn't really equipped to provide. But again, if you like it, don't let me stop you!

Uhhh warnings for talking about sexual stuff because unfortunately Equius is just kind of Like That and you can't really discuss him in good faith without getting into it.

Basically, Equius's deal is that he's kind of sheltered. His specific position in the hemocaste means he gets to avoid a lot of the awful shit the other highbloods have to deal with, while still being high enough that he gets to avoid lowblood problems entirely. He doesn't have to worry about being culled or even of having to cull others - at least, not until adulthood - to the point where he's in a position to object to Nepeta killing wild animals. The murder of other real, thinking, breathing people seems like a distant problem for future Equius - not a tangible reality quickly catching up to him.

CT: D --> You e%terminate beautiful, innocent creatures by the hundreds CT: D --> I can't condone such wretched behavior CT: D --> Beasts are meant to be 100ked upon with adoration AC: :33 < but AC: :33 < i eat them! AC: :33 < i dont kill anything i dont eat, that would be mean CT: D --> I guess that's basically acceptable in principle, but I still find it a bit unsavory

He knows that Alternia is dangerous, and that bad, horrible things happen to other people (I mean, he's neighbors with Vriska lmao), but he has the privilege of simply electing not to participate, and that's the solution he keeps presenting to Nepeta: don't talk to the lowbloods, because they'll harm you, don't talk to the highbloods, because they'll harm you, and don't play their dangerous games. I mean, it works for him!

CT: D --> The thought of you fraternizing with and abetting those stink-b100ded h001igans strikes me as scandal beyond measure CT: D --> I'm afraid you're too delicate to withstand that sort of corruption

EQUIUS: D --> Yes, which is among the reasons why I must make your prote%ion a high priority EQUIUS: D --> The highb100d has joined a stable of those who are becoming increasingly volatile and murderous as we remain stranded in this laboratory EQUIUS: D --> I command you to steer clear of them, do you understand

He has a kindly lusus who takes very good care of him, met his soulmate very early on, has a neighbor/friend he gets along with pretty well, and gets to spend basically all of his free time pursuing his hobbies and interests with no pressing duties or responsibilities to distract him. As far as is possible on Alternia, he's lived a charmed and peaceful life.

Now, although I'm going to make the caveat early that he's not actually that casteist, Equius is still the most casteist member on the team, short of post-corruption!Gamzee. The fact that he's sheltered is one of the primary reasons for this: he's never had a reason to question casteism, because casteism has always been pretty correct in his book, and he's never had the need nor impetus to question it any further than that. After all, lowbloods DO wind up getting themselves into horrible situations, and highbloods DO tend to be murderous, dangerous assholes. This is just The Way Things Are, right?

For more specific examples, the Team Charge debacle - which Equius had to know about because he's the one who patched Vriska up afterwards - ended with Tavros unable to walk and Aradia "broken" (most of the team didn't know she was dead until they entered the game; Terezi tells Vriska she thinks "whatever Vriska did to her" must've broken her brain somehow since she was never the same since). Meanwhile, the two highbloods really only got injured by each other. In Equius's eyes, this would've reinforced his views: lowbloods live dangerous lives wrought by their inherent degeneracy, and always suffer worse for it, while highbloods are unstable and violent, but ultimately faultless and unpunishable except by each other.

He also - again - is Vriska's neighbor, and Vriska's psionics work best on lowbloods, so that's the vast majority of who she brings in for her lusus to eat. The two most crass people on the team are also Karkat and Sollux - the latter of which is very much a lowblood, while the former regularly throws himself in with the "gutter bloods"; the fact that they swear and make sex jokes genuinely freaks Equius out, since he's a sheltered little noble boy who refuses to say cuss words.

EQUIUS: D --> For pete's goodfornothing di%ie whistling SA%ES, Nepeta

So with Equius, we see how unexamined and uninterrogated privilege and sheltering can lead to genuinely harmful beliefs. Equius's feelings come from a good place: he sees all these poor lowbloods dying and suffering, and all these high bloods doing horrific, scary shit, and he instinctively knows that something is wrong and the world they live in is dangerous - or else he wouldn't be trying to protect Nepeta from it. He knows that because she's lower than he is on the hemospectrum, she's much more at risk than he is of something terrible happening to her, so as much as possible, he tries to keep her away from engaging with the rest of society.

CT: D --> Well, green b100d is ok, but it's not great CT: D --> But that's why you're lucky to have me to 100k out for you CT: D --> Because you don't know better, and you can't fight the role the mother had in store for you

But because he's had no reason to challenge or question the casteist beliefs he was taught, the horrific stuff he witnesses actually reinforces them. In an attempt to make sense out of the terrible world he lives in, he falls back on the easy answers, the ones he's been repeatedly told since he was a child: lowbloods suffer because they are inherently "worse" than highbloods, and highbloods are inherently "better," so they're allowed to indulge all their most violent and horrific impulses and it's not actually a problem. He's comfortable with his reality; why isn't everybody else?

So um, that brings us to the sex stuff. Basically, because Equius is so sheltered, he doesn't realize that he has a massive BDSM kink, and kind of a voyeurism kink, and that a lot of the gratification and pleasure he feels from indulging in them are... um......... "that kind" of gratification and pleasure. To be honest, I think if someone genuinely levelled with him and pointed it out, he'd have a mental breakdown over it. Because, like, at his core, Equius is a polite, kind, helpful guy. There's a reason he listens to Karkat same as the rest of the team, why he helps with Tavros's robot legs, why Nepeta even likes him so much. A lot of his worst aspects just stem from the fact that he's conflating his desire to be stepped on with the hemocaste being an inescapable, correct reality.

He's basically this post lol:

So about specifically him and Eridan, like. We actually have Equius's outright stated opinion on Eridan.

CG: YOU ARE SUCH AN IDIOT, I DON'T GET IT CG: YOU KISS THE GROUND THIS LUNATIC WALKS ON BECAUSE HE HAS PURPLE BLOOD CG: BUT THAT DOESN'T STOP YOU FROM RIPPING ON ERIDAN, I KNOW FOR A FACT YOU DON'T LIKE HIM CG: AND HIS BLOOD IS EVEN PURPLIER, ISN'T IT? CT: D --> Yes CT: D --> That's different CT: D --> He is a sea dweller CT: D --> Our feud is codified in tradition CT: D --> Neigh, we are obligated to be at odds CT: D --> It's dignified ... CG: THE POINT IS, IF YOU SEE HIM, WOULD YOU MIND SNAPPING HIS STUPID WAND IN HALF OR SOMETHING? CG: AND THEN CHOKE HIM TO DEATH WITH HIS OWN SHITTY PRETENTIOUS SCARF. CT: D --> Do I really have to CG: GOD, WHAT IS THE PROBLEM NOW? CT: D --> I'd prefer not to interact with him CG: WHY CT: D --> It's primarily that his advances make me uncomfortable

See, Eridan... is not really Equius's type. And I can see why! Equius places a lot of importance on decorum and a100fness. Here's him basically telling Gamzee about why he's attracted to Gamzee and Aradia:

CT: D --> See, that's what I mean CT: D --> How is it possible for one of your distin%ion to be so ignorant CT: D --> And loathesome CT: D --> Whereas CT: D --> A member of the most abject, verminous b100dline of all CT: D --> Can conduct herself with such grace and possess nothing but admirable mannerisms CT: D --> I find these striking ju%tapositions perple%ing, and I confess strangely into%icating

He hates that Gamzee acts dumb and friendly, and wants him to be mean and commanding - and is probably lowkey picking up on the fact that Gamzee DOES have that within him, although he's hiding it. At the same time, he's weirdly attracted to how Aradia is aloof, intelligent, and strong-willed, despite being the lowest possible caste. Basically, Equius wants a pretty classically cultured dom to put him in his place - bonus points if caste-play is involved, whether it's a higher caste acting in accordance to their position on the spectrum, or a lower caste degrading him to a point below themselves.

So, initially, you'd think that Eridan would actually be his ideal for such a position, land dweller/sea dweller feud notwithstanding. After all, Eridan is all about acting like a traditional sea dweller, talking up his nobility and how much better he is than the lower castes, wanting the land dwellers dead/in their place, etc. etc.

But that's where we hit a snag. Eridan is pretending. He's pretending in the opposite direction of Gamzee, in fact. Where Gamzee is genuinely quite mean and nasty, but masking that in an attempt to get along better with his friends, Eridan is actually pretty - well, "nice" is the wrong word, but he's desperately presenting himself as meaner and more casteist than he actually is.

Equius wants to be effortlessly dominated, but Eridan puts in 110% at all times. Equius wants someone who upholds the caste system, and Eridan is actually totally indiscriminate when hitting on people because he actually doesn't give a shit about class differences. Equius wants someone who commands respect, but Eridan is kind of the team laughingstock. Also Eridan swears in proportion to his dialogue second only to Karkat.

Eridan's emotional desperation, disregard for the caste system, and cringefail antics are all massive turnoffs for Equius, and in a lot of ways, genuinely kind of scare him. I mean, again, Equius is a sheltered little noble boy who's made uncomfortable by cussing or killing animals for meat - and here's Eridan, one of the team's biggest murderers, genuinely obsessed with death and genocide, mouth of a sailor, willing to shoot his shot with anyone on the hemospectrum. Equius gets along better with Karkat, and Karkat's not even ON the hemospectrum.

It wouldn't even be pitch or ashen hatred to me, because Equius doesn't object to Eridan, morally or ethically - he just finds Eridan uncomfortable to be around, and prefers not to interact with him if he can help it. And that's really bad for Eridan, because Eridan's basically a huge emotional wreck and has a pretty fundamental need for emotional support and attention from his romantic partners - I've touched on it before, I think when I talked about him and Tavros, but Eridan has a genuine anxiety attack when Vriska accidentally ghosts him (because she's mercy killing her lusus), and I really don't think it would be good for him if he were to become emotionally attached to the guy whose whole Thing is standing in the background and watching without interacting.

As for discussing their problems... like, that's kind of the thing? They don't actually have overlapping problems. Eridan's issues primarily stem from the pressures his position on the hemocaste have placed on him, whereas Equius has actually actively benefited from and enjoyed his position in that class structure. Like, even if they tried to share notes on their respective character arcs about shirking the shitty things Alternia imposed on them, it'd be like,

EQUIUS: D--> Did you know that one's position in the hemospe%rum has little to no bearing on their moral integrity or worth as a person ERIDAN: are you a fuckin idiot eq

ERIDAN: guess all that obsessin ovver murder wwas a huge fuckin wwaste ERIDAN: and didnt do me no good nor anybody else for that matter EQUIUS: D--> Well EQUIUS: D--> Yeah

Even if we try to bring in things that aren't strictly related to being a high blood and what that means on Alternia - like if we run with the idea that Eridan's lusus contributed to Eridan's shitty childhood - well, unfortunately, Equius can't relate. Aurthour was incredibly kind to Equius growing up and he loved Aurthour dearly. So on and so forth.

And, uh... this is kind of weird to say, but despite how forward Eridan is about romance, he's actually... kind of reserved, sexually? He doesn't crack sex jokes and his fixation on romantic relationships is more about the act of being in a relationship than about what they do in that relationship. His date ideas are pretty straightforward and traditional, because he tends to prioritize "doing a good job" and "living up to the standard" over how he actually feels or his own personal interests.

What I'm saying is, Equius's horniness would probably make Eridan uncomfortable. Especially before Equius realizes that he's just got massive kinks that he should probably keep under control - which is basically the entire comic - Equius tends to prioritize what they do in a relationship over the act of actually being in a relationship. In fact, he'd probably be just as happy to get domm'd by Gamzee or Aradia even if they weren't actually dating. That's a kind of freedom and trueness to one's desires that Eridan can't manage; moreover, because Eridan tends to prioritize "doing a good job", he's pretty willing to go along with whatever his partner wants - which, in Equius's case, means Eridan doing more of the thing that's actively harmed them both. And I just don't think that that'd be good for Eridan.

So, yeah, overall, not a good fit for each other, but again, don't let me stop you!

The most interesting arrangement of Eridan and Equius, to me personally, is the fact that I think Eridan and Nepeta would actually be pretty good friends once they started talking (and Eridan got a moirail). Nepeta is the Anti-Casteism troll, the only one to outright state that she believes blood color shouldn't matter, and Eridan's whole deal is being less casteist than he pretends to be, to the point of genuinely being the least casteist highblood. And they both RP and hunt for stuff.

However, if there's any example of "dangerous highblood" on the team before Gamzee snaps, it's Eridan, and Equius has pretty deep concern for Nepeta's safety, which actually sometimes comes at Nepeta's detriment. It wouldn't escalate to pitch or ashen, but I really like the idea of the two of them having an antagonistic relationship because Equius does NOT want Nepeta interacting with this insane murderer, while Eridan is like, bro, let the kitty cat cave shipper girl decide for herself, and Nepeta is like, why must boys fight.

[lovelyladyabsinthewrites]

Pairing(s): Billy Butcher x Reader, Logan Howlett x Reader, Billy Butcher x Reader x Logan Howlett, slight!Billy Butcher x Becca Butcher

Warnings: this dynamic has just been on my mind, i have lsfav to finish but damn do i keep getting inspiration for billy butcher and logan<3, cheating, previous relationships mentioned, lets say this takes place in the beginning of the boys season 2?, brief deadpool cameo, jealousy, situationship, friends with benefits, crossover, the boys x marvel, soldier girl!au tidbit, yes i named it after a mean girls musical song

His grip tightens on the nape of your neck, Butcher takes another inhale and grimaces to himself.

He pulls away from you. Those dark eyes that usually shine with affection toward you were void of any life, a black chasm drilling into you. Hurt knits his brows together and set his lips into a deep grimace.

You knew his fingers were tightening as his hand shook but you couldn't feel the pressure.

"Who is he?"

Fuck

Why of all days did he decide to pay you attention? Lately he'd been in such a piss mood because Logan (aka your fuckbuddy) had been evading him for a while now. Also annoying how another supe known as Deadpool was helping Logan escape every time Butcher came relatively close.

You'd come up with excuses as to why you couldn't help out in capturing him.

Unconciously you sniff at your hair and internally curse Logan for constantly smothering his face in your hair. His signature scent of whiskey, cedar and dare you say even a hint of cigar smoke.

With a simple shrug, you dislodge his hand from your throat and take a step back in observation of his rigid frame. You think of all the times you 'd been jealous of Becca. You knew it was petty of you. She was his wife after all. It didn't matter that you'd known him the longest or that he'd quite possibly been the love of your life when you were in our early twenties.

"We never discussed being exclusive, Butcher." you quietly remind him. Butcher didn't like that reply, his feelings evident in the snarl that curls his upper lip. He couldn't get mad at you. You were right.

Haughtily he stomps around you, heading for the door.

You sigh after he loudly slams the door. Hughie pokes his head out from an adjoining room. "That didn't sound good. . ."

Refusing to give into Butcher's tantrum, you fold your arms in front of your chest. "Just let him blow off steam. Either way. . . It's not like I'm his partner or anything. We fuck on occasion. That's it."

"Not to mention your previous relationship with him?" Hughie brings up. "He might still have genuine feelings for you. Maybe for him, its not just fucking. You know Butcher. He's too proud for his own good so of course he's not going to mention it if you don't-"

"Jesus Christ Hughie, be someone else's goddamn therapist!" Snapping you immediately regret it when Hughie's mouth presses into a thin line. "I'm sorry, Hughie. . ."

Talking about your feelings wasn't normal for you either. Soldier Boy thought emotions were for pussies. Even if he'd had a soft spot for his daughter, it made him uncomfortable whenever you talked about your feelings. He wasn't equipped to deal with that.

"No, it's my bad. I should stay out of it."

You run a hand through your hair. "Fuck, Hughie. . .I really didn't want to think that this would hurt him. Or maybe I did. . . Shit, did I just ruin everything?"

Logan wasn't someone permanent, both of you knew that. Trouble followed both you and Logan. Intersecting your lives would conclude with utter chaos. You really liked him though. Damn you say you were fond of Logan and his reserved nature. You'd come to appreciate waking up to his face that still possessed a hint of a scowl in his brows. Weary lines etched into his features were engrained in your memory.

Hughie gives a pause before inquiring "Is it someone we know? If it is, we should give them a heads up."

A shake of your head, you plop down on a chair that is barely held together by duct tape. Your stuck in your thoughts of Logan. His long sideburns that you liked to play with when you lay in his arms. You'd even got to know Wade and had taken to calling Logan 'Peanut' too. He'd definitely become more than a simple booty call. Logan slowly entwined his life with your's.

"No. Butcher will never find out who he is. I'm certain of it. But to be on the safe side. . . I'll have to call it quits for now. I just- He's so focused on finding where Becca is that I didn't think it would bother him if I was with someone else."

There's another chair across from you that Hughie takes up. "He loves you a lot. He's never stopped. He told me that even when he was married to Becca, he loved you. Its hard when you love two people at once. You don't intend for it to happen, but circumstances will it into existence."

Internally you chuckle. Hughie really should have concerned therapy as a profession or some sort of degree in psychology. Yet you suppose he was in the same situation as both you and Butcher. He was falling in love with Annie/Starlight but would always love Robin.

Reaching for your phone, you're already pulling up your texts with Logan (you had him saved as '🥜').

[trashpandato]

Breakaway

“Lena, this could really be good for the company. Think of the good publicity for L-Corp, sponsoring the biggest women’s cycling race in the world.”

“Sam,” Lena huffs and presses her fingers against the bridge of her nose, “L-Corp isn’t in the business of sponsoring sports events.”

“Yet.”

“We’ve never done anything even remotely similar. Don’t you think it would look a little…desperate? Not to mention suspicious given the timing?”

Sam shifts a little in her seat. “Lena, —”

“Lex’s trial concluded less than six months ago. Any effort to get good press at this point is going to be suspicious. Especially something as blatantly outside of the scope of L-Corp’s usual activities as showing up at some bicycle event. This could actually do more harm than good.”

“You said yourself that you’re trying to move the company in a different direction. You could easily position this as giving back to the community, supporting causes that are, by design, the opposite of what LuthorCorp stood for.”

And Lena can’t really argue with that. She does want to do things differently, from re-naming the company to ending contracts with military suppliers to focussing primarily on research and development projects that would benefit previously underserved communities. But this is a step, or ten, outside of her comfort zone. She doesn’t want to be in the public eye more than she has to be, and she most definitely doesn’t want to be seen as taking advantage of a women’s sports event to bolster her company’s reputation.

“I don’t know.” 

“You don’t have to decide right now. Just, think about it. You’re sponsoring girls in STEM events all the time, and this could be along the same lines of supporting women in areas that are traditionally dominated by men.”

Lena sighs. As always, Sam makes a good point, and as always, she is exceptionally pushy about it.

“Fine. I’ll think about it.”

Later that evening, after Lena has sent off the last few emails dealing with a contract issue with a new subsidiary company in Japan, she clicks out of her email application and pulls up her search engine. If she is supposed to think about sponsoring a cycling event, she wants to know exactly what she would be getting herself into.

Three scotches and a considerable amount of time later, Lena has learned that women’s cycling is woefully underfunded, under promoted and clearly suffers from blatant misogyny of those in charge. She listens to multiple interviews of riders complaining that their races are intentionally shorter than the men’s races because the sport’s regulating body apparently thinks women can’t handle the extra distance. Other than that, the sport seems entertaining enough, and from what Lena can tell, most races are currently dominated by select riders from two or three teams, a fact that speaks to uneven support for equipment and development of new talent across the sport.

While an interview with a sweaty and strikingly good looking blonde cyclist is playing in the background, Lena rubs her eyes and fires off a quick text to Sam.

LL: I’ve thought about it. Go ahead and set up the sponsorship for that race.

—

On race day, Lena regrets every decision she has ever made that has led her to this point. She gets up extra early that day to deal with a number of important issues at L-Corp, but the morning quickly gets away from her. At noon, she is already so behind schedule that she is tempted to text Sam to cancel her appearance at the race. It’s only the knowledge that her friend would never let her hear the end of it that keeps Lena from hiding in her office for the rest of the day. She leaves L-Corp with barely a minute to spare, knowing full well that she is going to have to work late that evening to make up for the time she is going to spend showing her face at the race.

By the time Lena gets there, the medal presentation is just about to start. A race volunteer quickly leads her to the side of the stage, just out of view of the crowds, where Lena spots Sam.

“There you are,” Sam says, handing her a bottle of water to combat the truly ludicrous heat that has built up under the temporary structure surrounding the stage and podium. “I was beginning to worry that you wouldn’t show.”

“I told you I’d be here for this.”

“Yes, but you missed out on seeing the race action.”

“I'm a busy CEO of a multi-billion dollar international company. I don't have time to watch women in lycra pedal around the city for hours."

“Oh, but you did notice the lycra?”

“Sam,” Lena hisses as her attention drifts toward the woman stepping on the podium to accept the congratulations for the win. She grimaces when she sees Maxwell Lord and Morgan Edge hover near the cyclist, Edge shuffling closer and closer to the woman, sporting his usual sleazy smirk. He must say something offensive—not a big surprise, Lena thinks—because the woman accepting her medal suddenly stiffens and grimaces, clearly trying to remain polite and smile for the cameras while her body language conveys that she’d rather be anywhere else but here.

Lena takes a few swift steps toward them.

“Edge. I see you’ve learned nothing from your recent sexual harassment lawsuit. Do you want me to call your probation officer now or later?”

“Lena,” Edge sneers but he steps away from the woman nonetheless. “What a surprise. I didn’t think this event would want to associate themselves with family members of domestic terrorists. Then again, cycling doesn’t exactly have the best reputation for being a clean sport, so I suppose it fits.”

Lena crosses her arms across her chest and raises a challenging eyebrow. “You realize there are mics everywhere, yes? And that you just insulted the sport you’re supposedly here to champion, and everyone could hear it?”

She watches as a couple of official looking men in suits approach and whisper something into Morgan Edge’s ear. With a huff, he turns and retreats behind the stage to the soundtrack of shocked murmurs from the audience gathered in front of the podium.

Lena almost forgets why she is here when she hears an amused voice next to her ear.

“Thanks for that. Not entirely necessary, but I appreciate it.”

Lena’s head snaps toward the voice and all of a sudden she is looking into the bluest eyes she’s ever seen. The woman, Kara Danvers according to the information the race officials had handed her when she arrived for the medal presentation, looks flushed and a little disheveled, but is smiling brightly at Lena.

“Not necessary? He was practically grabbing your butt.”

Kara shrugs. “Not the first time that’s happened during a podium presentation, and won’t be the last. It’s part of the job, unfortunately.”

“It’s part of your job to be groped by men like Edge?”

Another shrug. “At least I usually also get kisses from the podium girls, so it evens out?”

Lena frowns. “What?”

But before she can get more information, one of the race officials hands her a bouquet of flowers and motions for her to hand it to today’s race winner, congratulate her and move on. Lena obliges. She steps in front of the podium, shakes Kara’s hand and ignores the way her stomach swoops when Kara thanks her and winks, fucking winks. Who does that? 

Lena briskly walks off the stage on the other side, where Sam is already waiting for her.

“You can never do things at a normal level of intensity, can you?”

“I told you I’ve never done anything like this before, so maybe don’t blame me for not knowing the proper etiquette here,” Lena snaps. “You could have warned me that Edge and his greasy buddy Lord would be here.”

“Relax,” Sam chuckles. “You did great. I thought we’d maybe get some decent headlines about L-Corp sponsoring the race, but now the media is going to have a field day with you taking on Morgan Edge in public and defending the reputation of women’s cycling.”

“I did no such thing. He spewed his vile nonsense all by himself.”

“He did, and you took him down a notch in front of one the sport’s biggest names. Who seemed pretty taken with you, by the way.”

“Right,” Lena scoffs. The heat behind the stage is unbearable and she can feel sweat trickling down her lower back, her shirt sticking to her skin uncomfortably under her suit jacket. “Are we done here? I need to get back to work.”

Sam looks like she’s about to say something, maybe to try and convince Lena to stay, but Lena is already five steps ahead of her, finding the most direct path to where her driver is waiting for her with her car. And maybe she’s walking faster than strictly necessary, desperate to get away from the cacophony of noises, people and media equipment surrounding the area, and maybe she should have paid closer attention to her surroundings because when she’s not even halfway to her car, she suddenly collides with a solid body. The force of it bumps her sideways and Lena half expects to fall, but then two warm hands hold her upright.

“Golly, I’m so sorry,” Lena hears and when she looks up, it’s the woman from the podium again. 

Kara Danvers.

She’s still holding Lena up, and they’re standing close, so close that Lena can see faint salt lines on her skin from where her sweat had dried off after the efforts of the race.

Lena blinks, too stunned to say anything for a moment.

“Are you okay? I totally didn’t see you and I barrelled right into you. I’m really sorry.”

Lena clears her throat. “It’s fine. I should be the one apologizing. I wasn’t paying attention.”

“You definitely looked like you’re in a hurry to get away,” Kara says, her voice teasing and light.

“I mean, I do have to get back to the office.”

“Of course. Time is money, and all that. Well, thank you for taking time out of your busy day for this, Ms Luthor.”

Lena is used to people commenting on her wealth and her business, and not always in friendly terms. She wears her professional demeanor and her last name like a shield; one that attracts a lot of unwanted attention, but a shield nonetheless. She doesn’t quite know why, but something about the woman in front of her makes her want things to be different.

“Please, just call me Lena.”

Lena can see the flash of surprise on the other woman’s face, but it is quickly replaced by another easy smile.

“Okay, Lena. I’m Kara.”

Lena nods. “Well, Kara, I should get going. Congratulations again on your win. Maybe I’ll see you around at some other races.”

“If you’re going to do the podium honors again, that’ll be more motivation for me to ride extra fast.”

Kara says this last bit with a laugh in her voice that makes Lena blush a little.

“Alright. You do that, but I really have to get back to work now. Bye, Kara.”

—

When Sam enters Lena’s office for a budget meeting a few days later, she finds Lena focused intensely on something on her laptop.

“Did you know that these so-called podium girls are almost all university graduates?”

Sam chuckles. “Are you looking for a side-gig?”

“What? No! I just mean, look at this woman, for example.” Lena turns her laptop toward Sam, the screen highlighting one of the blonde women usually tasked with handing over some stuffed animal to the race winner and giving them a kiss on the cheek. “This is Eve Tessmacher. She has two advanced degrees in biomedical science. She could easily work at L-Corp. Hell, she could probably even lead an entire department here, given her qualifications.”

“And?”

“And?! She spends her time following around the race circuit, smiling for the cameras in a dress that’s entirely too short to comfortably walk up the rickety stairs of those podium stages.”

Sam sits down opposite Lena at her desk and sighs.

“I see you put on your judgy pants this morning. What if they made a conscious decision to work at a women’s sports event? What if representing the race organization is important to them? And who knows, maybe traveling around the country and being a part of this is fun?”

“Fun?” Lena pulls up a few videos and turns the laptop back to Sam. “Does this look like fun to you?”

Together they watch a compilation of footage from various podium presentations. The common theme is the presence of handsy middle-aged men who seem to have made it their mission to make any woman involved with the race event uncomfortable, and the “podium girls” seem to be taking the brunt of it. 

Sam winces as she watches one of the women trying to maneuver her body out of the grasp of a particularly persistent man.

“Okay, fine. That looks…unpleasant. But I assume their presence is part of tradition.”

“Mmh. Maybe it’s time to end this particular tradition.”

That gets Sam’s attention.

“And how exactly do you plan to do that? I thought you wanted nothing to do with sports?”

“You did tell me to sponsor this race. And right now, L-Corp is only one of many corporate partners, but we could easily become the headline sponsor for this race series, and then we could encourage some changes. Not to the racing itself, of course. But those ceremonial parts could do with less of the misogynistic bullshit.”

“Does this sudden interest in who gets to kiss the race winner have anything to do with a certain blonde cyclist?”

“What? No. You…why would you even say that?”

“Because I have eyes and I saw how she looked at you when you played the hero and saved her from Morgan Edge.”

“You’re delusional. I don’t, it’s not about that. It’s about making sure these women get highlighted for their actual talents, not just to be eye candy for men with a bottomless Viagra prescription.”

Sam rolls her eyes. “I see what you’re doing. But if you want to explore what it would take for L-Corp to become the main sponsor, leave it with me.”

It takes a few weeks of meetings and contract negotiations, but in the end, Lena gets exactly what she wants. The L-Corp logo is prominently displayed on banners, posters and race leader jerseys. The media has run a few mostly positive stories about Lena’s newfound interest in women’s cycling, complete with a few soundbites from prominent cyclists who seem pleased with seeing some extra funding and attention for their sport.

During a break in the race calendar, Lena asks her assistant to set up a few meetings with the women working for the race organization. With Sam’s words about being too judgy still echoing in her mind, she wants to get a feel for how much of their job is simply about carrying over traditions from the men’s races and how much wiggle room there is for making changes.

In the first three meetings, the women Lena speaks with are polite and careful. Lena doesn’t get much of an answer to her questions, but she does get the distinct impression that the women would welcome a different approach to some of their duties but are too afraid to rock the boat. It’s only when she meets with Eve Tessmacher that she gets a pretty blunt assessment of the current state of affairs.

“So, Miss Tessmacher, what would you say you enjoy most about your role?”

“Oh, you know, we do get to travel around a lot and it’s nice to see different parts of the country. The quirky small towns are the best, usually, even if the accommodations can be challenging there.”

Lena nods. “And if you could change anything about your tasks with the race, what would that be?”

Eve cocks her head to the side a little and hesitates. Lena can sense that all she needs is one more firm nudge.

“I want you to be honest with me, Miss Tessmacher. If there is anything I can do to change your work environment for the better, I will do that. This is important to me. And I promise I won’t tell anyone what you share here.”

Eve blinks a few times but then nods.

“Truthfully, we would all like to see more respect. I mean, you saw what happened when Morgan Edge was at the medal presentation last month. That’s a constant occurrence. I understand that we need to invite local dignitaries when we pretty much hijack their town for a few days. It’s photo op stuff for them, we all get that. But that could be done in a much more respectful way.”

Lena nods and motions for Eve to continue.

“The outfits are a little much. I always feel like a flight attendant from the 1960s. It would be nice to have some leeway there.”

Lena nods again and jots down a few thoughts on a notepad.

“What’s your long-term goal?” she asks. “Career-wise, where do you want to be in five years?”

At that, Eve lets out a small giggle.

“Is this a job interview?”

Lena looks up from her notepad and raises an eyebrow. “Well, I do know that you have the education to work in R&D here at L-Corp, so if you want this to be an interview, I can make that happen.”

There’s a shocked expression on Eve’s face that is enough to make Lena backtrack slightly.

“Or we can set up an interview for you another time. To give you more time to prepare.”

“Really?” Eve asks, her voice pitched higher than before.

“Absolutely. When you leave here, talk to my assistant, Jess, to set something up.”

“Thank you so much, Miss Luthor. I have to admit, this is not what I was expecting when you called me in for a meeting today.”

“I’m trying to change things for the better, Miss Tessmacher. Both here at L-Corp and at the races, though my influence is a bit more limited there. But I do see that the women representing the race organization are generally overqualified for the task and I’d be more than happy to facilitate a move to other opportunities for those who want that.”

Eve nods but lets Lena continue: “I also want to change things for those who want to stay with the race. Make it more comfortable. No more handsy old men. Better pay. A safer work environment. I really appreciate your candor. You’ve given me exactly what I need to get started.”

From there, Lena gets to work. Her legal department helps draft language that makes it clear to anyone who is part of the podium celebrations that any inappropriate behaviour will result in immediate legal action. She re-assigns two of the podium girls to observe and enforce the new rules if necessary. Several others, including Eve Tessmacher, line up interviews for part-time positions at L-Corp that still allow them to participate in race events if they so choose, and she removes most of the existing stipulations around work attire. Finally, Lena highlights that in order to set clear boundaries, no one should be touching or kissing the winning racers beyond a congratulatory handshake.

It takes a few weeks for all the changes to be implemented, but the impact is immediate. The race series makes waves not just in the sports media, but bigger outlets start featuring the changes and run headlines like “L-Corp race series moves away from outdated traditions” and “Is women’s cycling finally stepping out of the shadows of men’s racing?”

Lena thinks the coverage is a little overblown but it’s still nice to see articles about L-Corp that don’t even reference her brother at all.

Over dinner one evening with Sam, she takes a sip of her wine and sighs.

“You know I don’t admit this very often, but you were right.”

“About?” Sam probes with a smirk on her face.

“You know what I’m talking about. The race sponsorship. The media coverage for L-Corp has been great, stocks are up, the board is pleased with it all. Thank you for pushing me to do it.”

“You’re welcome. But also, I really only said you should do a small sponsorship. You turned that into practically taking over the race series in order to impress Kara Danvers.”

“I did no such thing,” Lena huffs.

Sam simply smiles and clinks her glass against Lena’s. “Whatever you need to tell yourself to sleep at night. But you really should ask her out at some point.”

Thankfully, their waiter interrupts the conversation then, and Sam sticks to talking about Ruby and their weekend plans for the rest of their dinner.

—-

It’s a few weeks later when Lena finds herself back on stage next to Kara Danvers, handing her another bouquet of flowers and a medal for sprinting to an impressive win at a race around National City’s harbourfront. It’s a bit of deja vu, but Lena is happy to see that the overall atmosphere on stage is that of respect and professionalism for all involved.

When she hovers near the edge of the stage after the ceremony is over, Kara walks over to her with determined steps.

“I hear that it’s you we have to thank for the much more relaxed vibes at the medal presentations now?”

“All I did was establish compliance with current labour laws. I don’t want L-Corp to get pulled into a lawsuit over one of these groping incidents.”

Kara nods. “Ah. Well, even if you only did it to protect your company, I appreciate it. Thank you!”

“You’re welcome.”

“I do miss getting a kiss on the cheek for winning, though.”

And maybe it’s the glass of champagne Lena had while she was waiting for the medal presentation to start, or maybe it’s the heat or a combination of both, but suddenly she has no control over the words that tumble out of her mouth.

“I can provide the kiss if you’re amenable to that.”

The laugh that bubbles out of Kara’s chest is loud and bright when she says: "You know, if you wanted to be the one to kiss me exclusively, you could have just asked me out on a date. No need to go to all that extra trouble of making changes to the races." 

Lena blushes. “Okay. This is me asking.”

There’s a moment where Kara only blinks, and it’s obvious to Lena that for all her teasing and bravado, she clearly didn’t expect Lena to play along. She’s about to backpedal when Kara stands up a little taller, smiles and holds out her hand.

“Then let’s go. Let me show you how many carbs I need to eat to fuel top performances. And if you’re into it, I might even show you my tan lines later.” And then she winks. Again. 

All Lena can do is laugh and loop her arm through Kara’s. “Alright. Show me.”

[fuck-customers]

I'm the anon who sent in an ask abt accidentally co-ordinating a mass call out, saw a lot of ppl wanting the know the aftermath so here's your updoot :>

All 3 of us did end up calling in (during the early morning, so we never had to directly talk to our boss, but the manager on at the time) plus another random 4th person, who wasn't apart of the original group and is just a regular sickie chucker. When my boss did see the emails that morning, he came to my station and had a mini freakout/breakdown to the opener. Ended up not being able to cover the midshift with a proper staff member who works in our department, so no prep was done or topped up all day; the opener was in on what we were doing and also didn't like the staff on that night so her attitude was very much 'sounds like a them problem'.

From what I heard of the close, it went about as well as I expected; a massive shitshow. The one coworker who I really don't like our of the 3 stooges ended up being forced into doing the close, and boy did she fuck it up. That next morning the place was a total trash heap- with shit still being dirty, equipment not being turned off, and just looking like crap in general. According to another coworker who was there briefly it wasn't even bc she was busy, she just never bothered to even START her closing duties or clean and let everything build right until the end. The opener was so mad they went and got my boss to come down and look at the place the morning after and he pulled lazy coworker into a meeting about it that night, saying there was no reason she had to stay back an hour past her clock out time and still leave the place looking like a dump. I had to work with her that next night and she was being really passive aggressive to me abt it, kept saying things like 'yeah it was so bad, if only SOMEONE didn't call in on us' (like get fucked, maybe if you didn't suck I wouldn't have had to prioritise my mental health).

There was an hour wait time basically all that night (something that shouldn't have happened, I saw the sales the from the night and it wasn't even that bad, they're all just that slow) and a shit ton of people complained about either not receiving their food, or the food they did get being cold/not cooked properly. The managers on that night had to get called over a bunch to do a lot of voids and refunds. One of my regulars who was in that night said things didn't even look busy, the person on close just spent more time leaning around or freaking out then actually doing anything.

As for myself and the 2 others who called in, we all had a really good day off. The midshift was telling me how they spent the day relaxing and even got themself a little spa day, I ended up catching up on some chores work had severely pushed back and the other chick just relaxed at home all night. No one walked out and the place didn't burn down, so it's a little anti-climatic ik, but oh well. Good day for us, not so good for the others :3 It was nice at least that they got a taste of what we have to deal with whenever they're on.

Posted by admin Rodney

[denial-permanente]

Tom, here's a question I wrestle with some myself so I'll ask you about the last time your penis was actually inside Mrs Edge. Would you have preferred to know in advance that it was going to be the last time? If you did know in advance, what would you have tried to do differently? I've settled the thought in my mind that I was better off not knowing with my wife so that I was fully able to enjoy it without the mental torture of knowing it would be the last time. Just wanted your thoughts on it also

🔏 In the late winter or early spring of 2018, we didn't know that it was the last time I would ever be inside her, or even allowed an orgasm in a more conventional way. We did not know that it was going to be permanent. While we had a shared fantasy of going years - or forever - it never really went beyond the fantasy stage.

Except as the months ticked by, we both enjoyed the dynamic. At nine months, my wife said that we needed to go for a year. After a year, she decided that she wanted to go just a little longer. The next thing we knew, we were passing two years. By the time another six months had passed, she was talking herself into going on indefinitely. After four years, I asked if she wanted to try the larger Ranger X. It didn't take long before she was talking about making it permanent.

Now, notice that this entire time it was my wife who was making the decisions. This goes along with the agreement we made fifteen years ago: she has complete, 100% control over what happens with my equipment. No argument from me. If she wanted it locked for five days or five months, it was her decision and I would go along with it.

So, as to your question. If she came to me and said "Hey, last night was the last time," or "I've decided that tomorrow night will be the last time," it would be hot simply because (for me) it's hot when @mrs--edge exercises that kind of control.

But... for a year or more, I got to watch her slowly come to the realization that she *could* be sexually satisfied keeping me locked. I got to listen to her talk herself into the idea of keeping me permanently caged through her sexy bedroom talk and half spoken fantasies. I got to experience her going from questioning and checking in with me to see if I was okay being locked, to being confidently assured that she could do as she pleased. And more recently, I've watched her become more vocal and expressive in bed as she enjoys the bigger Vixskin Ranger, and listen to her describe how it has become her favorite.

And all through this I have had to deal with my own feelings of "is this really happening?" and "How do I cope with never feeling her again?" I had to learn how to eroticize the situation knowing that, unlike in the past, there would be no "end" to this.

To me, being in the middle of this kind of evolution, being part of the process of my wife's decision making is way hotter and more exciting than just having a decision made. The hot part isn't the destination, it's the trip itself. 🔏

[notebooks-and-laptops]

How to Formulate Companion Quests: Why a Lack of Theming and Overstressed Game Mechanics Got In The Way

Dragon Age: The Veilguard's companions are a lovable bunch, and it doesn't suprise me that the companions each already have a loyal and dedicated fanbase.

And yet, I do think that while I love the characters their personal storylines and quests are rather lacking. This comes down to two main issues that I want to explore in depth here: mechanics and a lack of overall theming.

So framing and mechanics; the game stresses to the player after you fail to kill the Ghilan'nain that the companions all have personal issues they need to solve to be ready to fight Ghilan'nain. The game then ascribes a tick box exercise; if you complete a companions quest then you'll get some extra swag gear and they'll get an extra cool bonus ability, as well as a nice symbol next to their tarot card.

This not only breaks immersion, but quite literally makes the companion quests an obstacle to overcome in order for you to complete the main quest. You're rewarded for completing the quests fully by making you better equipped to fight.

This by itself wouldn't have made the companion quests feel so empty of meaning, but linked to this comes the issue that Veilguard has with theming and villians.

The companion quests aren't really tied to the main story in any real way. Hardings is kind of tied to revelations you learn in the main story, but its more the lore implications than the actual current struggle against the Gods. Taash is supposedly fighting a mini-boss of Ghilan'nain but again the link between the Dragon King and Ghilan'nain is only revealed after you get to the final boss fight. The other companions are quite literally distracted by things not important to the main quest of destorying the Gods.

This is, by itself, fine. You don't neccessarily need companion quests to be linked to the main quest in order for them to feel like they're an integral part of the game. But what you do need is the companion quests to feel thematically relevant to the game.

When we were told this game was going to be about regret, I was very excited. Dragon Age has given us wonderful overarching themes before (for example, all your companions and you are in some way Dead in DAO). But none of the companion quests...actually heavily feature regret or mirror our bad guys or anti-heros struggle except for maybe Bellaras?

Harding doesn't regret touching the lyrium dagger or anything in her past. Davrin might regret losing the griffins but its more 'i need to get them back' than 'i actually did something bad that i regret'. Lucanis was locked away, and maybe he regrets his deal with spite? but it doesn't come up the way Anders/Justice's regrets and issues do. Neve regrets...nothing? Maybe 'getting her friend killed' but again, that's not actually her fault. Her theme is more about whether or not Dock Town really does need to change (a theme that's rendered kind of ridicious without Tevinter slavery being actually in the mix). Bellara regrets letting her brother die, but she didn't actually do anything that caused it the way Solas actively regrets, say, killing Mythal/Flemmeth. Emmrich's quests revolve around his fear of death. I guess he could regret not being a linch/letting manfred die, but he definitely doesn't seem to regret not becoming a lynch. Taash regrets not having it out with their mum after her quest is already over, but its not a main theme of her quest.

Now the quest line that actually works here? Is Davrins. Because while Davrin doesn't have anything to regret, Isseya does. Davrin's main villian is introduced early in the game, and is centred around Isseya who has become a monster and twisted figure of what she once was because she is tortured by the regret of blighting the griffins. This is an excellent plot! Because it mirrors the main themes of the game, and Solas's regrets too! We can feel genuinely sorry for her at the end.

But the other companion quests while fun feel like they're pulling you away from the main story, not bringing you into it. The other companion quests also only have villians that are introduced far too late in the game for us to feel a) threatened by them or b) actually care about them and very few of them have motivations beyond 'I'm evil hear me roar'. The companions who they've attempted to add regrets to - those regrets aren't 'real' in the sense that those companions are actually to blame for what happened the way Solas is the veil.

Besides Davrin, these companion quests are things that you have to overcome in order to get to the point you can do the main story, rather than a continuation of the themes of that story. They are literal distractions from the main story and then they are framed that way both in word and mechanic by the game. I feel like if they hadn't stressed this so much in the mechanics it wouldn't feel as obvious so they might have gotten away with it...but instead its just glaring me in the face.

This is a crazy choice to me. It pushes the pacing way off, and makes their plots feel like chores. Maybe fun chores, but still just chores that must be completed before we can do what we're actually here to do.

[skylandart]

*cries* they’re parents.

Headcanons under the cut :3

Their daughter’s name is Adelyn Jones Garcia. It was Javi’s choice because they’d made a deal.

They had her when Amelia was 27 and Javi 26. Useless piece of information, but hey :3

Accidental child.

She’s got Javi’s eyes and Amelia’s hair. And a cute little dimple near the side of her lips. And a little spacing between her teeth because when her adult teeth were growing in, she used to push them aside with her tongue just for fun. She likes the windows between her teeth. She thinks they’re pretty (they are.) and she refuses to get braces. Ever.

She has the physical Rafkonian features. She’s got the antlers and stuff, but she lacks the entire “mind reading” capabilities, the way Amelia and Aiyon do, because she is technically half human.

She’s very annoyed about this fact when she’s in her teenage. Especially because her sibling gets the mind reading capabilities without the antlers and she thinks it’s the universe being unfair.

She was also bullied as a kid because of all this. And Amelia nearly committed homicide as a result— only Javi could hold her back. And Javi…. Javi made sure no kid ever bullies Addy ever again.

They don’t let aunt Izzy find out about this tho bc if she did some primary school kids are gonna get IT.

She loves dad’s cooking. But she loves uncle Aiyon’s cooking more. Those Rafkonian taste buds make an appearance when she’s in her teenage, and suddenly her love for every single weird thing on the planet spikes up, much like Amelia.

Poor Javi. He’s now got two weird girls to take care of :3

Everytime Addy is upset, Amelia makes her muffins— except, Amelia can’t cook. It’s Javi who does the cooking, but hush, Addy doesn’t need to know that.

Javi likes to dance with her. Both of them can’t dance, really, but it’s fun to watch them stumbling about. It always cheers the both of them up, no matter what’s been bothering them.

Almost half of their home movies collection is Javi and Addy’s weird dancing. Amelia just loves recording them.

Amelia and Addy gang up on Javi every snow season, peppering him with snowballs. It’s the cause of a world war every Christmas.

Addy takes after Javi in her musical taste. Javi saw that early on, and tried to put her in music classes, but she was more of a freelancer and class timings and all of that annoyed her very much, and in the end, after three years of tantrums, they were forced to pull her out.

Javi then decides to give her home lessons. It works out much much better, because Addy likes her dad wayyyyy more than any other random music instructor.

Amelia likes taking Addy on walks. It started when Addy was five and Amelia took her out of the house for fresh air, but it evolves into adulthood and becomes their mom-daughter bonding time. They gossip about everything under the sun on their walks.

Addy has fried uncle Ollie’s computers, headphones, fitbits, and every other technical equipment, at least twice, in her lifetime.

Aunt Izzy introduces her to all the “bad” habits at the appropriate ages.

But every time Addy and her friends do stupid things, Aunt Fern is their first point of call, because Aunt Izzy tattles to the parents more.

I have more but this list has already become so long so mayyyyybe I’ll do a part two.

PS: yes. Yes Javi gets dorky dad!glasses. And yes, Addy breaks them eight times when she’s smol.

[seat-safety-switch]

Perhaps you have heard of Magneti Marelli. You probably don't really know what it is they do, other than that their logo shows up at races and sporting events. I'll fill you in: they make Italian car parts. Yeah, it's probably their fault that your Alfa Romeo doesn't start, but they're getting better at it.

For instance, the parts are now built in Mexico, so at least the folks making them these days know how to turn a screw all the way. The easy failures are all ground off by the glorious, ever-present drive towards the Assurance of Quality. An army of accountants, design engineers, and analysts work tirelessly to make sure they never break the same way twice. What's left? The really crazy problems.

In the early post-war period, NASA had this same kind of problem. They'd occasionally send up a rocket, and then it would come right back down instead of punching the universe directly in the eye. The cause? Obvious, stupid faults. You've done it, I've done it. Leave a cord unplugged. Forgot to fasten that clamp. What's a gasket? Slowly, they started to work all these problems out.

Now, the only problems NASA hits are occasionally that they send a probe up that mysteriously disappears from the ether. Just gone. They'd send another identical one, but the last time they did that, there was a deep voice that said "no more, please," and everyone decided it would be best not to stick their fingers in that particular hole until they were good and ready. Modern Italian car electronics are much the same way. Just a few big, creepy problems that nobody sane wants to deal with.

So: Hats off to Magneti Marelli, the enormous, soulless equipment manufacturer that has – at the same time – somehow also trapped the spirit of an 18th century sorceress directly inside the body control module of my Fiat. She sure doesn't like it when I roll down my windows, unless I roll down more than one of them at a time on every second Tuesday. Yes, I could fix the problem, but that's just asking for worse trouble.

[trillscienceofficer]

Really interesting to consider “Collective” in the same continuum of “Survival Instinct”, and how these episodes pan out very differently for two characters (Seven and First) who find themselves suddenly disconnected from the Borg collective and lash out with a similar mixture of fear and anxiety about their lack of control, especially when their fellow drones start to assert an individuality that neither Seven nor First are equipped to deal with. Seven survives, by dooming the rest of her unimatrix; First does not, and with his demise the rest of the Borg kids can board Voyager and be reclaimed from the Collective.

I don't know if the similarity between Seven and First was drawn intentionally by the writing but in my opinion it's pretty evident. As drones in an unfamiliar situation they are unprepared to deal with the discomfort of re-emerging thoughts of a life pre-assimilation, and their reaction is to seek a return to the Collective by whatever means necessary. In addition to that, they can't cope with alone-ness at all, so they ensure the drones who are with them will help them to return to the Collective as well by restoring ‘order’—in the case of First, by establishing a pecking order where he is the indisputable leader, and in Seven's case by assimilating the rest of her unimatrix in a mini-collective. I think Seven only succeeds where First failed because Seven by that point was an adult drone who was entirely capable of assimilation, while First, having emerged from a maturation chamber too early, did not have the ability yet (in “Collective” Icheb mentions that they've all been trying to learn to assimilate but have failed so far). This is a powerful metaphor too—adults have powers of coercion that kids might not have yet developed fully, and it points to latter's better chances of successful reclamation.

Except First pays for his stubborn inexperience dearly, while Seven does not, despite her being much more culpable. I've been wondering how she might feel about the whole encounter, since “Collective” doesn't offer much in this respect. I wonder if, despite First's relentless hostility towards her, Seven was able to recognize her former self in him. I think she might have, given this exchange right at the end:

I also wonder if First's fate was yet another reminder for Seven of the many ways in which she failed both as a drone and as an individual, and especially of the exceptional circumstances of her continuing survival. Other former drones die while facing the same difficulties and obstacles Seven has encountered, but she survives against all odds, often because the people around her have chosen to go above and beyond for her, but also just out of luck. It's a constant in her life, both on Star Trek: Voyager and Star Trek: Picard. I have to imagine it's a weight that keeps becoming heavier as the years pass.

[feralwritings]

dissonance

part three

words: 4.2k

“I don’t care what he is, Gareth,” She cuts him off, “I’m just trying to get through this tour, okay? Corroded Coffin wasn’t exactly my idea of a good tour mate, but we play the cards we’re dealt, and I’m playing nice, aren’t I?” Gareth looks like he wants to retort, but she quells him with a stare and he raises his hands in surrender, the glowing bud of his cigarette waving through the air as he does. He turns to go back into the hotel, and she hears the sliding doors open, and then close. “He doesn’t hate you. I think you should know that.”

masterpost

taglist: @cam-peggio each notif you get for this fic must be a shock considering they're so spread out but i appreciate ya all the same hon

The arena in Phoenix is cold and empty when she walks into it, meandering towards the stage from the labyrinth of seats before her. When she finally reaches it, she clambers up, leaving her feet to dangle over the edge as she pulls out her phone.

This was the rehearsal space that Corroded Coffin had chosen for her to learn the song and practice it. They had a few options, seeming to narrow down on one. The one that she hoped beyond hope that they don’t choose, but judging by her luck, those lyrics are going to be ripped from her throat either way.

She’s here early, of course, alone in the quiet for a while. It’s almost peaceful, mostly haunting, looking out upon the rows of seats, thinking that she sees a phantom sitting in one before her eyes adjust, and it’s gone. Dealing with paranoia was never her strong suit, and she’s staring up at the nosebleeds, swearing that there’s movement up there when the stage rumbles below her.

She turns, seeing the boys wheeling equipment and instrument cases onto the stage. Eddie’s in the rear, and she smiles stiffly at each one as they pass by, allowing her smile to fall fully when Eddie looks at her.

She stands, quietly watching as they unload their gear, plug various cables into various panels, Joey, Jeff and Eddie tuning their guitars while Gareth adjusts the foot pedal for his kickdrum, giving it a few tests before nodding in satisfaction, drumming out a little fill, general rehearsal stuff.

And she’s there, in her hoodie and sweats, standing awkwardly downstage, waiting for them to tell her to do something, or even speak to her.

Of course, it’s Eddie who finally does, adjusting the height on his mic stand as he looks over at her, “We brought an extra mic, if you need it.”

She pulls out her own from her bag, waving it a little as she connects it to the soundboard, wired as opposed to not, easier to deal with for just a rehearsal.

“So,” she says, approaching Eddie, dragging a stand behind her, setting it a few feet away from him, as she slips her mic into the clip, “What song did you choose?”

There’s only a couple songs that feature another vocalist, and among those, none feature a female vocalist, so she can’t really think where she might fit into all this, if she can at all. The label said this might not work, it could end up being a one-off, something that she never has to do again.

“People love nostalgia, so we’re choosing one from our earlier years,” He says, bending to dig some lyric sheets out of his guitar case, handing them to her.

She reads the name at the top of the page, and her blood runs a bit cold.

It’s the song. The song that propelled them to stardom, the song that got them signed to a bigger label, the song that broke containment out of their sub-genre and reached the world at large, the song that sat at 86 on the Billboard Hot 100 for a month straight.

“You’re kidding,” She whispers, running the tips of her fingers over the printed ink, “You want me to sing this? With you?”

Eddie tilts his head at her, his brow furrowing, “Yeah, we haven’t performed it in a few years, thought it was time to bring it back around.”

She stares at him. She loves this song. Always has - even after everything went down, this was the song that she couldn’t quite manage to delete entirely from her library, simply removing it from her most frequent playlists, but it would sit there, like an old tome collecting dust. 

One of the reasons that the song broke containment was because of its rawness and vulnerability. The lyrics themselves, though steeped in excessive metaphor, paint a picture of devastating heartbreak. A heartbreak, though asked by every news outlet and interviewer and magazine and just about anyone could get a second with him, Eddie has never discussed. The fact that it's shrouded in mystery makes it all the more popular, superfans scrubbing through Eddie’s past, trying to figure out who it’s about. It starts off slow, building through the first chorus and into the second verse, and by the bridge it’s a cacophony of sound, overlapping bits of Eddie’s voice singing different parts, until they come into one succinct harmony during the final chorus. They haven’t made a song like it since. 

“Alright,” she exhales, “Where do you want me to come in?” 

“Was thinking near the second chorus, leading into the bridge. I could sing the harmony, you can sing the melody.”

Which, again, is a strange choice. Her voice, louder, higher than his will be what people mostly hear, and she doesn’t know if the return of this song, the song with her in it, is what people would even want. 

Eddie’s watching her, seeming to know that she’s mulling it over in her head. He takes a cautious step forward, and she snaps out of it, looking up into his face. 

“Listen,” he says, all tall, voice low, only meant for her, “We don’t have to like each other. Hell, we don’t even have to get along like best friends, but you and I both know this tour is going to suck ass if we’re always at each other's throats.”

She sighs, biting down on her cheek, “Yeah. Let's just…try and behave ourselves, I guess.” 

He nods, pulling his guitar from the case and slinging it across his shoulder. 

“Alright,” Eddie says, plucking out a little tune on the strings before approaching his microphone, “First verse.” 

***

She’s standing in the wings, tired from her own set but shaky about her part in this one. She can hear Eddie in her in-ears, can feel rather than hear the music, and as the lyrics inch closer and closer to her starting point, her heart rate jumps in her chest. 

Rehearsal had gone well enough, they’d decided that she would start singing when she was off the stage, and then walk on stage still singing. It’s a little Disney Channel, sure, but it didn’t really make sense for her to be on stage the whole time, awkwardly hovering by Jeff, waiting until it was time for her to sing. 

When the song had started, she could hear the cheers of the crowd, so loud that they had picked up on Eddie’s mic. He hadn’t really introduced it, just started playing the first few chords, recognizable enough that the crowd’s confused whispers had turned into a roar of excitement.

The second verse was finishing up now, the pre chorus ringing in her ears, Eddie’s raspy voice sending pins and needles down the length of her spine. He was a beautiful singer, there was no two ways about it, and try as she might to find more and more things wrong with him, with his music, with the band, with everything that had anything to do with him, she was coming up short, more and more. 

“Okay,” She hears one of the sound guy’s voices in her ear, Pete, maybe.

”Three.”

She takes a deep breath in.

”Two.”

She raises the microphone to her mouth.

”One.”

She starts to sing.

Her voice comes out stronger than she would’ve expected, higher, louder than Eddie’s like she knew it would be. Their harmony twists around each other, like both strands of a double helix around a DNA ladder, and judging by the way Eddie’s voice skips, he jerks his head to look at her, eyes wide, he’s just as surprised as she is. It didn’t sound like this in rehearsal, because they hadn’t been working together as they are now, off in their own worlds, in their own parts of the song, despite the fact that originally, the bridge was meant to be a cohesive piece.

It’s that way now, and as she walks out on stage, flashing a shy smile in greeting, Eddie holds out an arm in introduction, one hand off the neck of his guitar for a few seconds before it flies back, picking up the chords.

It goes well, considering.

For about thirty seconds.

When her in-ear cuts out, and she can only hear Eddie again, she figures that her mic is still on, and so she figures that she should keep singing, as the bridge is almost over. A quick glance at Eddie tells her that this is not the case, and she raises a finger to her mic in question, and he shakes his head, and then nods for her to come share his.

Which is quite literally the last thing she wants to do. She could just as well share Joey or Jeff��s mic, but they’re not even singing back up right now, and as the few seconds pass before she makes a decision, she can feel a lull in the crowd, and can hear, above all else, Stacy’s voice in her head, telling her to ride their coattails. 

She jogs up to Eddie’s side, having kept her distance from him this whole time. He moves to the right to accommodate her as she stands on tiptoe to reach his microphone, as it’s set just above her head.

She can hear herself again in Eddie’s mic, and she can feel Eddie himself pressed into her side, the neck of his guitar crossed in front of her like the blade of a sword, his elbow brushing against her as he changes chords.

The last few lines of the bridge approach, and her eyes slip to meet his. She can feel his breath on her face, they’re that close, and when the lights strobe around them, she can see the expression on his face in snapshots, apathy, then interest, then a softness that shows in his eyes, the way they half close when he looks down at her mouth, the way that the only thing separating their faces is the microphone between them. 

It’s over half a second later, Eddie’s turning back towards the crowd to sing the final notes of the song, and she slinks off stage in a way that she hopes isn’t obvious. Her job is done, she sang the fucking song, she can leave. 

She’s walking so fast back to Daisy Chain’s greenroom that she missteps and rolls her ankle in her shoe and falls against the wall, panting. 

The searing pain in her ankle is accompanied by a pounding in her chest, so loud that she can hear it in her ears. She sinks to the ground, putting her head between her knees, breathing deeply. 

She doesn’t know how long she’s there, breathing in, out, in, out. It could’ve been minutes or an hour, but sometime later she feels a hand on her shoulder, and jolts, head snapping up. 

It’s Steve. Thick eyebrows drawn together in concern, a small frown on his lips. 

“Are you okay?” He asks, pressing the back of his fingers to her cheek as if to check her temperature. 

“Yeah,” she chokes out, and he helps her stand. She puts a little weight on her ankle and it pounds, but not enough for her to not be able to limp back to the bus and ice it, “Just - got a bit -“

“Overwhelmed?” Steve offers, hand on her hip to steady her as she tries walking a few steps, “You seem to be like that a lot, lately. Is there something going on?”

She considers, for half a second, telling him. Telling him that her career, her livelihood and her passion hangs in the balance if she doesn’t play nice with Corroded Coffin, and with Eddie. That if she isn’t a good girl, that if she doesn’t stay on the marionette strings UDR has her on, she’ll lose the one thing she’s actually accomplished in her life. 

She also considers telling him that playing nice with Eddie is not as hard as she thought it would be, and that she wishes it was harder, so she’d have a reason, a tangible, solid reason to still hate him.

She shakes her head, though, gulping all of this back, “I think it’s just the adrenaline. That crowd was really loud.”

Steve nods, but she can tell that he doesn’t believe a word she’s saying. Despite his reputation for being a bit of a himbo, she’s come to find that he is actually quite perceptive. When she sees him, that is. She can count on one hand the number of times they’ve hung out on this tour, despite being almost a month into it.

He helps her back to the buses outside, and on the journey they talk a little. About the tour, about his music, about a little bit of everything and nothing at all. He’s on in less than 20 minutes, but he makes sure that she gets in okay before speeding away, into the waiting crowd of managers and crew, who all roll their eyes at him, in a fond sort of way.

She sheds what she can of her clothes, grabs a can of soda from the fridge and collapses onto her bed, resting the can between the wall of her bunk and her ankle. She stares up at the ceiling, and right before sleep takes over, she sees that flash of Eddie’s eyes again.

***

Her disappearing act doesn’t go unnoticed. Eddie’s salty about it during load out, tossing cables into his case in a pissy little way, so much so that she clamps her headphones over her head and ignores him for the rest of the day.

The girls had been concerned, telling her that they’d searched all through the venue for her before finally returning to the bus and finding her zonked out in her bunk. She gave a half apology and an even weaker explanation, folding in on herself like she always does.

They drive through the night to get to Santa Fe, having a few days to themselves before the show.

Both bands, and Steve spend this time apart, in their respective buses, and on day two, their hotel rooms. It’s nice to sleep in a full sized bed for once, even if Reader wakes up with Chrissy’s limbs wrapped around her like a koala.

On the third night, the night before the show, cabin fever sets in. It’s late, past 3 am when Reader moves Chrissy’s limbs off of her and pads quietly out of the hotel room and down the hall, tugging a hoodie on as she goes.

She just needs a little air, is all. She walks through the pristine hotel lobby and into the night, which has a chilly bite to it that has her pulling her hoodie closer around herself.

Stucco buildings tower around her. The hotel is situated on a quaint little street, with old fashioned orange street lamps lining the road, bathing everything around her in a warm, amber light that ignites a sad little twinge of nostalgia in her. Home, in Indianapolis, on crisp summer nights, biking home from band practice, throat sore and heart full.

She closes her eyes, the sound of distant traffic playing in her ears. Then, a much closer sound has her eyes flying open.

The click of a lighter sounds somewhere close, and she glances around, feeling an unearned and slightly misplaced terror that Eddie is lurking somewhere in the shadows. Her eyes eventually fall on a much shorter figure, and Gareth steps out of the alley between the hotel and adjacent building, and even from here, she can hear the music that is blaring through his headphones.

He startles when he sees her, eyes growing wide as he comically jumps back. She raises an eyebrow at him and he quickly collects himself, pulling his headphones off to rest around his neck before looking at her again.

“Couldn’t sleep?” He asks, in a would-be casual voice, but there’s a distinct undertone to it that makes her mouth taste a little sour.

“Not really. Chrissy is like a furnace.”

He murmurs something around his cigarette, something that sounds a little bit like lucky but she can’t be too sure.

“What’s her deal, anyway?” He suddenly asks.

“What do you mean?”

“Is she like,” He makes a vague gesture that she has no idea how to interpret, “Single?”

Reader bites back a grin and shakes her head, “Nah, she’s got a guy back home. They’re crazy about each other.”

She can tell he’s trying not to look devastated, and a little pinprick of pity sparks in her chest before she remembers that she doesn’t like him, then it goes from sad to pretty funny.

“What about you? Or Nancy and Robin?”

“Robin and Nance have been together since they were seventeen. Me? None of your business.”

He seems to know that none of your business means that she’s as single as the day is long, and it's his turn to feel pity or vindication, whichever one he wants.

It doesn’t show on his face what he does feel, expression made carefully blank. He takes another drag off his cigarette and turns his gaze towards the street.

“Eddie’s been pretty pissy since Phoenix,” He says, rather suddenly, eyes darting to her before they dart back toward the road.

She was afraid of the conversation veering into this territory, not wanting to think about or talk about Eddie, as much as she could help.

“Boo-hoo,” She deadpans, “Not my problem.”

“He’s not as bad as you think,” Gareth turns towards her now, eyebrows scrunched together in a display of earnestness, “He-”

“I don’t care what he is, Gareth,” She cuts him off, “I’m just trying to get through this tour, okay? Corroded Coffin wasn’t exactly my idea of a good tour mate, but we play the cards we’re dealt, and I’m playing nice, aren’t I?”

Gareth looks like he wants to retort, but she quells him with a stare and he raises his hands in surrender, the glowing bud of his cigarette waving through the air as he does.

He turns to go back into the hotel, and she hears the sliding doors open, and then close.

“He doesn’t hate you. I think you should know that.”

The doors open again, and she’s left standing there, in the chilly night air that just got about ten degrees colder.

***

She’s frenetic tonight, never staying in one place too long. She’s gone up to the barricade more than once, allowing several hands to grasp around her extended arm, while security keeps a tight hold on her legs to keep her from being pulled under.

Song after song, lyric after lyric, Eddie can’t keep his eyes off her from where he stands in the wings, a post that he’s taken up a little too often as of late. He makes excuses here and there, but always finds himself watching some part of their set before he trudges back to their green room to do warm ups.

He watches in almost indecent fascination as she gears up for the bridge of the song they’re playing, filling her lungs with air.

When the bridge comes, she whips her guitar around her body on the strap, so that it’s slung across her back. She seizes the microphone and rips it from the stand, the honeyed tones of her falsetto reverberating across the venue. A slow drum line builds as she sinks to her knees, and the lights go crazy, turning the sweat droplets that cling to her skin into a thousand tiny jewels, sparkling as brightly as the shimmery eyeshadow packed onto her closed eyes. The crowd goes fucking wild as she tilts her head back, hair cascading like the branches of a willow tree down her back. 

Fuck, Eddie thinks, watching her from the side of the stage, watching as her brow furrows, watching as she bangs her head in time with the whine of the electric guitar riff that Chrissy’s shredding out.

She’s back on her feet again, slipping the microphone back into the stand, bringing her guitar back to her front, fingers sliding across the neck as she strums the rhythm section of the final chorus, grinning into the microphone as she sings, hips swaying to and fro, the curve of her ass peeking out from underneath her skirt as she bends at the knees a little. 

She’s so fucking pretty. She is so fucking pretty and Eddie can’t breathe. When the song ends, and she honest to god giggles into the microphone, the noise being amplified and echoed around the venue, and Eddie can’t help but feel like this whole thing has been specifically designed to make his knees weak. 

“Wow!” She exclaims, tossing a couple picks into the crowd, “Thank you so much! That tune is one of my favorites, and on almost every stop on this tour, it's gotten a bigger and bigger response.”

Robin drums out her agreement, and Reader looks over her shoulder with a smile, before turning to the audience again, introducing their next song.

And all Eddie can do is watch. He watches her dance to the beat, smile to herself, watches her fingers fly lovingly across her guitar. She’s a little firecracker when she’s on stage, always in motion, and it’s so electrifying, so fucking endearing that Eddie feels the hair on his arms stand up when her shimmering, graphic liner gaze falls on him for a millisecond. 

She sings about love. She sings about sex, about nostalgia and about the ocean, sings about the minutiae of human experience and heartbreak, each lyric captivating and masterful, tugging at the exact right parts of the brain, evoking what feels like a million different responses in Eddie, from skipped heartbeats to a tightening in his jeans to a hot sting in his eyes, and he can’t quite take it anymore. 

Corroded Coffin is next, he knows that, but he - fuck, he needs a minute. He ducks away from stage right and heads to their green room, pouring out a shot of whiskey and downing it, hands clenched around the edge of the vanity, head bowed towards his chest. 

It’s mystifying that this girl, who’s capable of such vitriol towards him, who avoids him at every turn, who has nothing but contempt for him can reduce him to this with lyrics and vibrato and sweetness reserved for no one else but the crowd in front of her. 

If he has to stand smushed against the barricade, metal digging painfully into his skin as sweaty bodies press into him to catch even a little bit of that sweetness, to catch a stray smile, he’d do it.

Which is so fucking ridiculous that it pisses him off. He’s got people knocking down the door for even a chance to fuck him. He could go out there right now, flash a smile at anyone and would probably end up getting his dick wet for it, a hot mouth against his. 

But he wants her, and it is infuriating, because he knows, he fucking knows that it’s never going to happen. She wouldn’t want him even if he was the last man on planet earth. 

He supposed this is what he deserves for that throwaway comment, and the utter lack of humility to go to her after, through text or DM or pull her aside as she walked into UDR, tell her that he’s sorry, he’s so fucking sorry and not only that, he’s an idiot, a callous, selfish idiot that had eyes and ears for nothing else but his own band, his own success, so much so that he was willing to step on her neck get ahead. 

If only he had known - fuck. How talented she truly was, would it have made a difference? Even if she sucked, even if her band couldn’t hold a tune it still wouldn’t have mattered, it wouldn’t have made that comment okay, in any way shape or form. 

It’s retroactively humiliating, but he knows, as he glares at himself in the mirror, hating himself, that his humiliation is nothing to what they’d done to Daisy Chain. 

He's so wrapped up in his self-loathing spiral that he doesn’t really register that the music warbling through the walls of the venue has stopped. He only comes back to his senses when the door opens and peels of laughter seep into the room, the clunk of platform shoes proceeding the girls, save for Robin and her keds, all smiling and sweaty.  

Reader’s eyes land on him first, and her smile disappears in an instant. 

Up close, he can see her makeup running a bit, can see the tired sorta droop to her eyes and he can smell her perfume mixing with her sweat, which normally would’ve been kinda gross but in this instance, sends his brain into a tailspin worse than it already had been.

Chrissy speaks first, “I think we have the wrong room.”

They do, as the bands were afforded separate green rooms, the one that Eddie’s standing in presenting a distinct lack of everything the girls own. 

They all file out after Chrissy’s proclamation. All except for Reader. 

She’s staring at Eddie, eyes narrowed in suspicion. 

“Are you…” She hesitates, shifting her weight from foot to foot, “Alright?”

How uncharacteristic. Up until now, Eddie was under the impression that she truly didn’t care if he lived or died. So, it’s somewhat shocking that she’s displaying even a shred of concern for him, even if it looks like the words taste sour in her mouth. 

“Yeah,” he manages, straightening up, “Yeah, I’m good, thanks.”

She nods curtly, “Good. You’re up, by the way.” She jerks a thumb over her shoulder in the general direction of the stage. 

And with that, she’s closing the door with a snap, leaving him alone.

[lostbetweenvampiresandmusic]

Changes chapter 15

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The head lay in the box still. Julie had left the room, and if Max was being honest, he wasn't sure whether she had gone to her room or to the boys. It felt wrong to let her just go like that, but everything that had happened during the last week had just been a bit too much for her. Max sighed as he stood up, lifting the box from the table.

It would be of no use to let it sit there. Instead, he had to clean up the head and get rid of the box around it. As he walked towards the garage, his eyes fell on a dark spot on the edge of the box. It was dark red, drenched in blood, but Max could still see exactly what had been printed there. A small logo with the letters COL. Max frowned. Were they after Julie?

Two hours north of Santa Carla, an old man entered a small, sterile room. The room was white, and the only thing in it was a bed, attached to which was some medical equipment. On the bed laid a young woman in her early thirties. Her ginger hair had been combed and put into a loose braid, preventing any tangles from happening. Her body was covered in a thick white blanket, a small blue dot pattern printed upon it. The old man smiled when he saw she was awake.

"How are you feeling?"

"Better," she said softly with a weak smile, "I think this medicine is working better than the last one."

"Good." The man sat down next to her, his wrinkled hand holding her smooth one. "You seem to be getting stronger again. I really hope this one is it."

"Me too, dad." The woman murmured quietly, not looking at her father. "I just wished-"

"No. We're not talking about this now. You need to focus on getting better. Let me focus on the technicalities behind the medicine, alright?" The man sounded stern, and despite her age, the woman shrank back into her pillow, nodding submissively. As the man left, the door closed with a click. She couldn't help but wonder how he got this medicine. As much as she loved her father, she knew he would go to unethical lengths to keep her healthy.

"What do you mean, you can't help me? I'm telling you she is missing!" Greg growled at the horn, ignoring the protest from the officer on the other side. "I don't have to mind my tone you have to do your fucking job! Shelly is missing, and you fucking need to find her!"

Beepbeepbeep

"Shit!" Greg cursed as he threw the horn across the room, banging his fist against the wall. Three weeks. It had been three weeks since he had seen his girl, since he had heard from her and he knew something was wrong. Shelly wasn't like this. Sure, she'd sometimes forget to put the horn back on the receiver, but no matter what, they had seen each other daily. So why not now? What happened to her?

As Greg thought back to that night, all he could think of was the fact that that quiet freak had something to do with it. She had been on the beach, she had been there angering Shelly - what if that freak had done something to enact some sort of revenge? Greg shook his head, growling as he picked up the horn, dialling the number of some private investigator he found in the yellow pages.

"Meet me in two days at Joe's at three, alright? I'll see what I can do for you." The man, Xander Frog, had sounded tired but determined after Greg explained his case. He had even forgone payment after realising he was dealing with a youngster - his words, not Greg's - saying he'd help but couldn't make any promises. Still, it was more than nothing. Xander would do some research, find out what he could and with any luck he'd see Shelly again sometime soon.

He hoped so, he thought as he poured himself a drink. He was nothing without her. Sure, people cowered, but it didn't have the same effect as before. Shelly always brought that spark, that edge of danger, that unpredictability that he needed to stay in charge. Without her, he was just the next guy trying to claim the boardwalk as his own. He wasn't, but the people didn't know that yet. When he got Shell back, he'd make sure everyone would know that the boardwalk was his. He would make sure everyone would know Shelly was his. No one would harm her or touch her ever again. No, she would stay by his side, protected by his power.

Max had just finished cleaning up the box, burning the head in an old barbecue he never intended to use before - and certainly wasn't going to use now - when his phone rang. He picked up the receiver, hearing the anxious voice of Maria on the other side.

"I was sorting tapes, and one of them wasn't marked, so I had to put it in to see what was on it and-"

The girl sounded sick, ready to throw up any second.

"Have you stopped the tape?"

"Yes." Maria said, her tears audible in her voice.

"Alright. Give me twenty minutes, and I'll be there. You're taking the rest of the week off, alright? No ifs and buts, I don't know what you've seen yet, but I think you need and deserve a break."

"Max, I can't-"

"You can. If money is what you're worried about, I'll handle it. Now get something to drink, close the shop and I'll be there as soon as I can."

Maria nodded, hanging up the phone. The images she'd seen were burned in her mind, and he thought of them alone was enough to make her sick.

She walked towards the tiny kitchenette in the back of the store, grabbing a glass from the cupboard. Her hand was shaking as she filled it with water, taking some long sips. She needed to focus now, focus on her breathing, focus on staying calm. She never had to see those images again. She didn't have to come back here for a week. She just needed to focus in calming her nerves and-

"Maria?"

The girl almost screamed as she heard her name being called. Luckily, she caught herself before she'd done so and before she dropped the glass to the ground.

"I didn't mean to startle you, dear." Max stood in the doorway of the kitchenette. Maria was so upset by what she'd seen, she hadn't even noticed that his arrival time was just a bit too quick to be normal. "I've asked Paul and Marko if they'd be willing to bring you home, if you're okay with that."

Numbly, Maria nodded. She put her glass down, walking out the store without saying goodbye to Max. She just needed to get out and get as far away from those images as she could.

The second Max was certain that Maria had left the building. He locked the doors and turned the lights off. One night of not opening the store wouldn't do much harm, and he was much too curious to see what was on that tape.

He walked towards his office, seeing that the television was still on, the grey static buzzing on the screen. On his desk laid an empty cardboard box. No name, no sender, no stamp - nothing to indicate where it had come from. Max frowned as he put it back down, grabbing the remote that lay next to it. As he pushed the play button, he was greeted with the face of a young female doctor sitting in a laboratory. The film was in black and white, but even then, she seemed to radiate. Pride, Max realised, as she began to talk.

"So, you know how I've been trying to find a cure for Mel?" The woman had a proud triumphant smile on her face as she looked at the person behind the camera. "I think I found something! Oh, you're not going to believe this. It is absolutely brilliant!"

The woman jumped up and walked towards a heavy metal door at the back of her lab. She pushed it open, allowing the camera to step into the room first. The camera showed a metal table, with a white cloth on top of it. The cloth was covering a human shaped form. Max frowned. Surely this woman didn't mean -

"What is this?" A male voice asked.

"This," the woman grinned, "is the cure to everything. No more pain. No more aches. No more disease. If we're lucky, even no more death."

"You can't beat death!"

"Then explain this!" The woman pulled the cloth off of the body, revealing a young girl. Her hair was tangled, her body bruised all over.

"What have you done to her?"

The woman ignored the question, smiling as she handed the man some files. "Do you see this? These injuries are only an hour old, and already they're healing."

"This is inhumane-"

"This thing isn't human. It is the cure for everything. It's sire needed the money, and let me tell you - we hit the jackpot! This will save-"

The scene ended abruptly. Someone had filmed over that part of the tape, Max realised, as he saw a familiar scene. A large room, a crowd cheering loudly, and two creatures being forced to fight. He had seen this before. He had been there, watching from the shadows. He grabbed the remote control, speeding forward, when suddenly he paused. There, in the crowd, was a vampire. The same vampire whose head was now burnt to ashes in his backyard.

What the hell was Lucien doing there?

Next chapter >

[aihoshiino]

chapter 149 thoughts

Chapters Since The 143 Kiss Happened And Went Entirely Unacknowledged And Unaddressed Count: 6

anybody else here unironically love getting yuribaited or just me

Honestly I kind of don't know what to think about this chapter lol. As it stands I didn't really hate it - in a lot of ways, it feels like a return to the humour and emotional focus of early OnK which is something I've honestly been missing in the manga while revisiting the anime. Mengo's art toys chapter was great and getting some proper Akane focus was nice. On the other hand, transitioning into this style of writing with no cushioning after the last arc is so incredibly jarring and the Akane stuff we get here is… well, we'll put a pin in it for now and address it later.

In general "put a pin in it" feels like the right energy for this chapter. As the second chapter of a new arc it's primarily setup for the stuff we're going to be dealing with for the next however long, I think it's going to be something we can really only chew on when we have a more solid idea of what exactly it's setting up, long or short term.

Anyway…! We start off with an explanation of why Kana seemed to flip so suddenly last chapter which does patch up some of that logic a bit. I think it's a little silly that she didn't actually overhear the conversation and thus clue into the actual goings on with how close she was standing but that's basically romance misunderstandings 101 so…

Her leaping to assumptions and giving up so quick also feels a bit abrupt but tbh Kana has always been deeply insecure and quick to leap to it's so over when it comes to her feelings for Aqua. Not only that but as others have pointed out since last chapter, from Kana's outsider perspective, Aqua was at his happiest and most at peace while dating Akane and has been in a mental health spiral to the point of expressing suicidal ideation since they broke up. Obviously we, the readers, know the extenuating circumstances at place but from Kana's POV it makes perfect sense to conclude that Akane makes him happiest and is uniquely equipped to do so. It just feels clunky in execution.

On the subject of clunky… I won't lie, it really bugs me that the first really significant AKKN interaction we're getting is love triangle shit entirely centered on Aqua. One of my biggest complaints about the series post TB was the way the end of that arc set up a huge status quo change to Akane and Kana's rivalry and then kind of failed to expand on it at all and that continued to be true all the way up to the Movie Arc. I'd hoped that them both working in close proximity as actresses on the same project would give us opportunities to dig into that. We got some lip service in that regard and then swerved hard into suddenly hyperfocusing on Kana's insecurities regarding Ruby while Akane got all of zero meaningful focus during the back half of the Movie Arc even though she was one of the characters with the most potential to bring interesting things to the table.

Honestly, one of my biggest fears with Akane's declaration that she'd stop Aqua's plan was that even though the two of broken up, she would continue to orbit Aqua at the expense of being allowed an arc of her own that focused on her relationships with the wider cast. Like - even if what she says about not being romantically interested in Aqua anymore is true, she is nevertheless entirely revolving around him to a really frustrating degree. It really feels like Akasaka realized Akane would have solved everything going on in the Movie Arc and had to panic and offscreen her as a result lol.

tho akane dismissively talking about the idea of clinging onto a past lover did make me do a very mean chuckle. ouch, better hope ruby didn't overhear that one, girl!

That said, for all my complaints, I didn't hate their little talk. Yes, it contained an absolute mountain of transparent-to-the-point-of-cynical KanaKane shipbait but it was pretty gay so who's to say if it's really good or bad or not. It's also just nice to see Kana and Akane being able to have a talk that isn't entirely hostile even if I really wish it was under different circumstances, or even that we'd just seen the road they took to being able to be so civil with each other. But whatever - we're here now, I'll take what I get.

Circling back around a bit, I am intrigued by the idea of Akane framing herself as having 'moved on' from Aqua when she very clearly hasn't lol. Like I indicated up there, I don't quite think this is the case nor do I think we're supposed to uncritically accept this as being the case - it reads moreso to me that Akane is trying to convince not just Kana but also herself that she's moved on from Aqua so Kana doesn't feel like she's in Akane's way if she tries to shoot her shot. As for why… well, that's something to talk about at the end of the chapter but I do think it's interesting either way. Akane wildly overshooting in her scrabble to convince Kana it's totally just platonic and going for sonzoning Aqua was also about the most insane thing she's said in a while but her utterly panicked and deranged expression as she said it made me bust a gut laughing.

In general, the expression work this chapter was on fire and there was a ton of really funny and really cute moments - Akane's blushy pout after Kana's quasi-confession, the fish-eye lens effect on her when Kana sees her outside her door and especially her and Kana's expressions in the second to last page… jesus i lost it so bad.

I've been gushing about Mengo's panelling and expressions for the last ten or so chapters but she really is amping it up lately. It definitely feels like her art for OnK has been getting really refined during the last few volumes and while this chapter was a little whiplash-y coming off the end of the Movie Arc, I also think it's a really impressive display of Mengo's range, too. Her horror and drama chops were on full display while all that was going on but in a more lowkey chapter like this, she brings a lot of life and charm to even simple things like the little montage of everyone wrapping up their day of the beach - it's three silent, tiny panels at the bottom of the page but she crams a ton of detail and character into each one.

I also am Extremely Shrimpterested in the note this chapter ends on. Something OnK does occasionally is use genre trappings as a smokescreen for what is actually happening on page and Akane's words at the end here seem to indicate this is happening here, too. This entire chapter goes extremely hard on the romcom tropes and dynamics but the way Akane's energy totally changes once she's on her own makes me think this is intentional and a reflection of the way Akane is setting up to use Kana.

Because I do think it's undoubtable that she is setting up to use Kana. Her sudden leap to captain of the SS AquKana is not about wholeheartedly supporting two people she loves (at least not primarily) and more about her continued efforts to save Aqua from himself. Kana just happens to be a convenient pawn in making this happen.

If I'm making this sound very cynical and cold of Akane: it is! But that's why I think it's so interesting. Akane is very like Aqua in a lot of ways and seeing this tendency of his to perform cruelty and manipulation to the greater end of doing the most good (or at least in their eyes) mirrored in her is very juicy and potentially very deadly in the hands of someone as smart and perceptive as Akane.

It's also kind of telling and kind of really sad to see Akane asserting that Aqua wouldn't be able to take revenge if he had a girlfriend at his side when that certainly didn't stop him back when he and Akane were dating. It's subtle but it's consistent with just how little faith Akane seems to have ever had in Aqua's feelings for her. Kana's not the only one struggling with long term insecurities in that regard.

I also can't not address the elephant in the room that is the story setting this up while the resolution to whatever the hell is going on with Ruby is still dangling over everyone's heads. I mentioned this last chapter but it really is getting to be bizarre just how much of a nothingburger that has been turned into, not just in terms of the characters' lack of reaction to it but the way the narrative has just entirely failed to give it any weight or significance whatsoever. I can only assume that one of the other girls making a move to pursue Aqua (if it does end up happening) will kick Ruby into action and we'll get god knows what sort of resolution there but a dark and evil part of me that loves to start shit thinks that the funniest possible resolution would be for it to never come up or be referenced ever again just for the sheer frenzy of confusion and bafflement it would cause. everybody loses!!!