#but this guy's problem was not the Fitbit and the Fitbit was not the thing making him miss out on other life experiences

[mythicalcoolkid]

Underrated "worst kind of thinkpiece article" contendor: articles about how we as a society need to examine [current trend] because naïvely buying into it ruined the author's life, only when you actually read the article it's clear that the author is in fact blaming a LOT of their personal issues on. Like. Marie Kondo

[altheterrible]

Everything in my house smells like cat pee, because Sev just kind of...leaks these days. It's not due to an illness or injury, it's just incontinence related to old age. He's 17 years old, as is his brother Loki, and these things are to be expected. Aside from the urinary incontinence, the little guy is still living a totally normal life. He's thinner than he used to be, and doesn't run anymore, but he can still jump and climb just fine. No trouble eating or drinking. Loves pets and cuddles and being brushed.

Sometimes I worry the smell is something I carry with me outside the house, that I have become the embodiment of the crazy old cat lady stereotype. I know for a fact this worry is not totally irrational, too, because when I'm outside of the house, I can smell how much the band of my Fitbit smells like cat pee, even though I wash it frequently. We clean the carpets weekly, we have covers on the furniture we wash frequently, but still. The house just smells really...pissy.

But honestly? It's fine. Because it's a temporary problem. It's a problem that I am honored to have. I've gotten to watch this little guy live his whole life. He's given me so much love and joy and comfort in the last 17 years that I think I can deal with a little cat pee in return.

Idk. I'm really passionate about elderly pets. People act like they're disposable once they start to be a little more work. And that's despicable.

Anyway.

[surely-galena]

G, Z and M for the ask meme, please 😊

Hello exhausted-impact!!

G: Care to share a favorite crack fic?

I know you technically asked for one but I'm giving you more anyway! I'm going to assume that they are ToT crack fics, and if so, allow me to point you to (if you haven't already read them):

Come and Spaghet It! by @samsspambox || samandspam

“Pasta night started by accident”, one of the officers told Luke as they shoved another forkful of the vegan chicken alfredo. “One of the lawyers, I don’t know if you know them yet, made way too much spaghetti and didn’t want it to go to waste."

or alternatively: Artem stress makes handmade pasta and Luke unknowingly eats some at the Stellis Police Department.

This was one of the first ToT fics I read when I got into the fandom last year and it's such a fun one. Also read the end notes section because it's hilarious

-

hey google? how do i recover from telling my boss to fuck off online? by @samsspambox || samandspam

The world of entertainment was a fickle thing. Artem was used to this idea. In fact, he was sometimes the subject of such internet trends. He would review a movie, people would talk about the movie more, and then people would forget about it. He still didn’t know how his little website got so popular, he just wrote what he thought and needed someplace to put it.

That’s how this whole thing started.

or alternatively: kiki and artem have internet beef. hilarity ensues.

Hands down one of my favorite Kiki fics! It's miscommunication done well and I personally think it's hilarious. The fic also uses fun HTML/CSS, references Artem's dislike of Kanon, and comes with a clickable link! :D

-

and i would walk 1,300 steps (just to be the man to fall down at...the reindeer workshop) by @actualbird || reptilianraven

“1,299 steps, huh?” Ria peers over to look at Artem’s fitbit.

“One more step ‘til the high score, then,” Marius smirks, extending his leg. “Do you think what DAVIS said would happen will actually happen when we hit 1,300?”

“Doubt it,” Luke rolls his eyes. “Most that’d happen is a prize from the staff.”

“We are likely only going to exacerbate Ria’s aching feet, should we wander around any longer,” Vyn tells him.

“Agreed,” Artem nods. “I think it’s time we call it a night.”

“You guys are no fun,” Marius whines, but he doesn’t protest as the rest of them start walking back to the parking lot.

And after one step, a large blue circle of light appears underneath all their feet before phasing the team completely out of existence.

-

DAVIS: The Teleport Point opens at a random point for the first time after 100 steps and leads the player to the Reindeer Workshop. Once the first is unlocked, the others unlock after 200 steps, with six Reindeer Workshops in total to visit. Cumulatively, 1,300 steps are needed to unlock all workshops.

[Based on the Xmas Partyland Map Event]

This fic delves into game mechanics (if you've played any of the map events, you'll be relatively familiar) and contains some of the best Artem lines. Okay, everyone has good lines in this, but *vague gesture* it's all delightful. It's a short read so I'd definitely recommend it, even if you haven't played this specific event!

-

farm time??!? by lawlietss (who I'm afraid I don't know the tumblr handle of?)

The NXX team play Stardew Valley for some good old fashioned team bonding. There's more problems than profit.

Okay, this isn't strictly crack (it's tagged as comedy), but if you're familiar with / have played sdv then you might enjoy this. There's MC marrying Harvey to spite everyone and Vyn naming the farm Farm Farm in the most deadpan voice possible (among other things). Would recommend if you also enjoy NXX team shenanigans!

M: Got any premises on the back burner that you’d care to share?

I... do have some actually. I'm keeping quiet about a lot of them because I don't want to raise expectations, but here are a few that I've been playing around with:

An Ever After High / fairy tale AU focusing on Vyn and Artem as foils (enemies to friends arc)

A Kiki and Vincent fic because there is tragically little content about the two of them, let alone both of them interacting with each other (probably strangers to friends and bonding over shared interests)

Possibly something about Zangr that actually has him as a main/POV character??

Z: Major character death–do you ever write/read it? Is there a character whose death you can’t tolerate?

I'm not sure if I could write major character death, haha! In original works, sure. In fic? I don't know! It's also something that I don't usually read, especially if I gravitate toward found fam / team dynamics. I will admit, however, that I have read a few ToT fics where Luke dies out of morbid curiosity. (Not him dying of morbid curiosity, I'm the one who is curious.) So while it's not something I stay away from entirely, it's also something I don't necessarily navigate toward.

Thank you for the ask!! Have a lovely day :D

[wonder-kid-pugh]

Homesick - (Christen Press x reader)

Hey guys!!! Honestly heard this song and loved it so much and thought it would be good for an imagine. Halfway through writing it I thought it would have been better with an army service person but honestly was too tired to change it all. But I hope you enjoy!!!

You look so peaceful in our bed

I didn't wanna wake you when I left

To catch my plane

And I'll be trailing through the sky

Just another silhouette up high

Before you wake

I groan quietly as the alarm on my Fitbit buzzes awaking me from my peaceful night. I lay there for another minute before deciding I unfortunately have to get up. Ever so slowly I gently slip out from Christen's grasp and quietly get out of the bed.

I start to move around the room getting ready. The benefit of having everything packed the day before means I wasn't in a rush to pack and I all I had to do was get changed. As I check my watch I see I need to be leaving soon to make my flight. But as I look over at Christen who is still sleeping peacefully in the bed I smile softly at the sight.

She looked so serene and peaceful. She looked so relaxed as her chest rises and falls in slow rhythmic breaths. I frown knowing how hard she's been working lately on Re Inc alongside training and everything else that needs to be done. I sigh and bite the inside of my cheek. We had a traditional, sort of like an unspoken rule. Whenever one of us had to leave for somewhere we would always wake the other up to say goodbye. Sadly it was usually me doing the waking up having to travel a lot for work.

But knowing how stressed she been recently about Re Inc's new capsule launch and the upcoming Olympics, I didn't have the heart to wake her up.

Instead I settle for a gentle kiss on her forehead. I freeze as she stirs in her sleep as she shuffles around in the bed before burying her head into my pillow. With one last smile I creep out of the room leaving her a small note on the counter before leaving for the airport.

Knowing by the time she wakes up I'll be high in the sky.

You tell me that you had that dream again

When I didn't have to go

I wish that we could live inside your head

I had barely stepped into my hotel room when my phone rings. I drop my bags before fishing around in my pockets to find my phone. But I smile as I see the name pop up on my screen, "Morning Chris".

"You didn't wake me this morning..." I didn't even need to see her to know that she was pouting on the other end. I bite my lip, "I know but I know how hard you've been working and you just looked so beautiful and peaceful. I just couldn't do it". She giggles, "Maybe it's because of the dream I was having".

I flop back into the bed settling back into the mattress, "What were you dreaming about?" "You woke me up and told me that your gig was cancelled and you didn't have to leave". I chuckle and run my hand through my hair, "I like the sound of that. I wish we could live inside you head".

And I know that you'll feel better

When you're sat there in my sweater

That I gave you to remember

Being on the sofa next to me

And I'm waking up at 6:00 a.m.

To call before you go to bed

And tell you 'bout the day I've planned

And listen to the one you had

And when I'm homesick

I've got you on my home screen

So anywhere I'm going

I know that you'll be with me

Until I hold you, darling

I grin, "I'm sorry I didn't wake you up. But I have a surprise that will make you happy". She hums, "Oh yeah? What is it?" "Go look in the wardrobe" I tell her. I can hear her shuffling on her end as she no doubt goes to the wardrobe. Then I hear her coo over the phone, "Awe Y/n..." I smile, "I know it sucks being away from each other a lot of the time especially with conflicting schedules and stuff. But I hope this will help remind you I'm always here for you".

She giggles, "It's smells like you and a small bit of popcorn". I had left her one of my oversized sweater which she always loved to steal off me. She had spent many nights curled up in my sweater on the sofa for our movie nights. It was one of my favourites but I could never be mad at her for taking it. She just looked so adorable all swallowed up in the massive hoodie.

"This way" I tell her, "whenever you start to miss me. You can just put this on and think of the two of us cuddled up on the couch". She lets out a content sigh, "I love you". I smile, "I love you too".

Your friends, they ask you all the time

Why'd you wanna wait another night

When I'm not home?

And nothing seems to settle down

Just another day, another town

And we're alone

As much as I love my job it did suck at times. Being a photographer for hire was brilliant as I got to do what I loved and got to travel all over the world meeting amazing people. The problem with being in such high demand means I'm traveling a little too much at times.

It also meant that I was purely reliant on reputation alone. Thankfully I had spent years building it up. It didn't hurt that I was very versatile doing just about everything from travel pictures to modelling shoots. But in building up a reputation it meant that I couldn't turn down bookings.

And it seems that I always had the worst timing with luck. It seems that just as I finish up a job I get booked for another one. Postponing my return home. Things just never seems to settle down. Meaning spending even longer away from Christen. Or just when I come home she's leaving for camp or matches. I would be hopping town to town. The two of us alone.

But not really

But I can never let this go to waste

The further that I go

The more I seem to love you every day

But no matter how far away we are from each other. No matter the distance I travel it could never diminish how much I love Christen. It's as if the further I travel the more my love grows for her. I guess what they say is true.

Absence makes the heart grow fonder

And I know that you'll feel better

When you're sat there in my sweater

That I gave you to remember

Being on the sofa next to me

And I'm waking up at 6:00 a.m.

To call before you go to bed

And tell you 'bout the day I've planned

And listen to the one you had

And when I'm homesick

I've got you on my home screen

So anywhere I'm going

I know that you'll be with me

Until I hold you

When I'm homesick

I've got you on my home screen

So anywhere I'm going

I know that you'll be with me

Until I hold you, darling

After touching down in New York and hailing down a taxi I slump back in the seat as they drive me to the hotel for the night. But the first thing I do is check the time difference. It just became apart of my routine everytime I went somewhere for work. I would always check the time difference between where I am with wherever Christen is.

I had made it a priority to always call Christen before she goes to bed no matter what unless it was organised before hand for some reason.

Of course I never told Christen this. Purely cause in doing so it means that I would have to be awake at insane hours in order to call her. Of course it was a pain but everything was worth it to hear about Christen's day.

As I get to the hotel I immediately slide into the bed not even bothering to change and instead just dropping my bags and getting comfortable underneath the warn blankets. Knowing I only have a few hour before needing to wake up to call Christen.

I groan lightly when I hear the alarm on my phone go off. I sit up in my bed with a yawn before taking my phone off the charge and dialling Christen's number. I rub the sleep from my eyes as it rings. But it doesn't take long as it only has the chance to ring twice before I hear my beautiful girlfriend's voice on the other end, "Hey Y/n!"

I smile tiredly, "Hey Love". "You okay? You sound tired. Early start?" I chuckle quietly she has no idea. "Eh it's okay I just woke up is all". I stifle a yawn, "But don't worry about that how was your day?"

I can't help but smile as she begins her long rant about her day. Starting off with the usual with her morning yoga and meditation and everything. Then tells me about Kelley acting like a crack head at training and work for Re Inc. "Mal was asking for you as well today" she tells me making me smile. "Awe" coo, "tell the little nugget I miss her too".

"Do you have much planned for the day?" She asks. I shrug although I know she can't see me, "Well other than the shoot I have today I don't really know. Maybe if I get a chance I can go explore maybe take a few pictures". She groans, "Uh I wish I could go exploring with you". I smile, "Maybe one day I'll bring you back with me and then we can explore together". "I would like that" she says softly.

There's a small pause before she speaks again. "So do you know when your going to be coming home?" She asks quietly. I sigh knowing it was coming. She asks every time and I hate it. Purely because I can never give her a good answer. I never liked giving her an answer only for her to be disappointed when another job calls me away again. "I don't know Chris" I sigh. "I have this gig which is a city wide shoot which could go on for days if we get delayed and then I might be getting called for another in England afterwards".

I could practically see the frown on her face, "Okay..." I sigh and play with the ring on my finger, "But you know that I'm doing everything in my power to get back home to you". "I know". I inhale deeply, "I love you so so so so much Christen Press". I smile as I hear her giggle down the line, "I love you too". "To the moon and back" I whisper. She sighs contently.

"To the moon and back"

I know that you'll feel better

When you're sat there in my sweater

That I gave you to remember

Being on the sofa next to me

I groan quietly as I rub my eyes tired from constantly staring at the screen. When I glance up I see I've been editing these photos for over 3 hours now as the it now shows that it's nearing 4am. I slump back in the chair and stare up at the ceiling just taking a moment to rest my eyes.

I loved photography and taking pictures of different things. But this was the part I hated the most. Editing. Was simply the bain of my existence. It was just a slow process and took so long to do such small things. And as much as I wanted to just go to sleep I knew I couldn't. The longer I put these off the more pressure I'll be under to get them sent off.

It would also lead to just a bigger amount of pictures to edit and that didn't seem all that appealing either.

It didn't help that all my thoughts just seems to trail back to Christen. She's probably in the middle of team bonding or free time right now. Probably hanging with Tobin or someone right now. What I wouldn't give to just be cuddled up with her right now taking a nap.

I missed her so much right now

My thoughts are interrupted by my phone pinging. I sigh as I grab my phone only to see it's an Instagram notification. I scrunch my face "I've been tagged?" I shrug thinking it's just probably someone posting some photos I took for them but instantly smile when I see who it was.

It was a picture I had actually taken a while ago just for fun but it came out extremely well. It was a picture of Chris sitting on our sofa looking away from the camera and instead to the seat beside her. The light streaming in from the windows we're hitting her perfectly. But the best part was her sitting them in my baggy sweater adorning her small frame making her look even smaller than usual.

Christenpress Wish you were here next to me

I chuckle as I like the photo. Christen was such a tease. She knew that fans had suspicions that she was dating someone but would never come out and directly say who. It was quite funny seeing how many people speculated Christen and Tobin were dating from photos I had taken. Taking friendly gestures way out of context.

After staring at the picture for a while longer I switch off my phone and get back to editing the photos. Wanting to get these done as quickly as possible. Because the quicker I get these done.

The quicker I get home to her.

And when I'm homesick

I've got you on my home screen

So anywhere I'm going

I know that you'll be with me

Until I hold you

When I'm homesick

The day had been longer than it should have been. The shoot had a rocky start with an overbearing manager interrupting the shoot constantly and questioning everything every 5 minutes. I was quickly coming to the end of my tether but I finally cracked. Not only was he making the model uncomfortable, he started questioning me. So I eventually kicked him off the shoot.

Which was the best decision as the model finally relaxed enough to continue on with the shoot. It ran much smoother after that but we had a lot of time to make up for. And along with the wardrobe changes and travelling between locations the day was just tiring overall.

It didn't help that homesickness hit my like a train today.

I don't know why but everything just remind me of Christen. It was almost crippling how much I missed her. Wanting nothing more than to be in her arms. But I plastered a smile on my face and grinned and bared it. The only thing getting me through the day was my phone.

My phone was my lifeline and my medicine for homesickness. Whenever I was having a bad day or just missing home all I had to do was turn on my phone. And I was met with Christen smiling up at me from my home screen. It was a picture that I think one of her teammates took. It was of a picture of a few of us at a party or team celebration I honestly couldn't remember. With Tobin, Pinoe and a few others either side of us while Christen was sitting on my lap with my arms wrapped around her and my chin resting on her shoulder. Both of us smiling at the camera. It was of It's my own way of always having her with me.

She has my sweater and I have my home screen. And that will keep us going until we're back together again.

I've got you on my home screen

So anywhere I'm going

I know that you'll be with me

Until I hold you, darling

I focus my camera waiting for the perfect moment until I quickly snap the photo. I grin as I see the outcome of the shots and swear that she could never take a bad photo ever. I wait anxiously taking the occasional picture until the whistle finally blows.

I pull the snood closer to my face and pull my hat down further down my face making me almost unrecognisable. As I make my way onto the field I snap pictures of the players trading after match pleasantries and talking to each other. I smile as I see her smiling and laughing with Tobin and Mal. I raise the camera to my eye and wave at them, "Hey! Can I get a picture?" 

They all nod before standing beside each other and smiling at me with their arms around each other. I quickly take the picture before lowering the camera, "Beautiful! Thank you but I was expecting a better reaction from you".

She looks at me confused before I lower my snood and smile at my girlfriend, "Hey Love". She gasps at me before launching herself into my arms giving me just enough time to move my camera away from getting crushed and catch her in my arms. I spin her around in my arms before putting her back on her feet. "Your here! Omg your actually here!" She squeals as she wraps her arms around my neck.

After passing off my phone to Mal with a smile I securely wrap my arms around her waist pulling her even closer to me, "Yes Darling. I'm here".

We sway side to side for a bit just enjoying being back in each others arms again. "I missed you" she whispers into my neck as I kiss the side of her head, "I missed you too. So so so much Chris".

She pulled back just even to look into my eyes before leaning in to kiss me. Finally being back in each others arms we were so happy to be back with each other. "I love you to the moon and back" I whisper pressing my forehead against hers.

"I love you to the moon and back"

[arrowflier]

The Step Count Sham

I am so tired, you guys.  I’m not used to doing my own lab work anymore, and my feet and back are killing me.😢  My fitbit is super proud of me though, hence today’s speedwrite topic.

“Hey, I got something for you,” Ian says one morning, handing Mickey a small box over breakfast.

“Yeah?” Mickey asks, setting down his fork to make a grab for it.  “What’s the occasion?

Ian shrugs as Mickey starts to tear into the packaging.  “Can’t a guy just get his husband a present?”

Mickey eyes him across the table, pausing in opening the box.  “No,” he answers simply, and Ian sighs, exasperated.

“Just open the damn thing, will you?” he pleads, and Mickey relents, prying the box open to reveal...

A blank watch?

“The fuck is this?” Mickey asks, twisting it around.  The face lights up, and he nearly drops it into his scrambled eggs in surprise.

“It’s a fitbit,” Ian tells him excitedly.  “It tracks your movement, tells you how many steps you take, calories you burn, all kinds of stuff.”

“And why would I want that?” Mickey questions, shaking the little device to see it light up again.

Ian pouts.  “I thought it was cool.  Look, I got one too.”  He holds up his wrist, and sure enough, his usual watch has been replaced by a sleek new band.  “Besides,” he continues, “don’t you want to get healthy?”

Mickey scoffs.  “Since when have I cared about getting healthy, man?”

“Since the longer you live, the more time we have together,” Ian answers.

And fine, ok.  He’ll try the damn thing.

He regrets it as early as the next morning, when Ian sets their daily goal to 10,000 steps.

“It’s the recommended goal,” he tells him.  “It won’t be that hard,” he insists when Mickey just scowls.  “Just give it a try, we can always change it later,” he bags, and Mickey gives in.

“Fuckin’ fine, fitness freak,” he grumbles, but kisses Ian before he leaves and promises to make an effort all the same.

An hour later, he hasn’t left the sofa, and he’s contemplating his options.

Ian would pout if he didn’t do anything, but he can’t bring himself to walk.  He could lift some weights or something, sure, but that wouldn’t appease the contraption that now sat on his wrist.  

As he was thinking, his eyes drifted up, and settled on the ceiling fan.

Oh, he thought with a smirk.  That could work.

When Ian gets home later, Mickey proudly passes him the device, and waits for approval.  Ian grins when he sees the active minutes displayed on the screen, then flicks a finger over it and frowns.

“Mickey,” he says slowly.  “This says you cycled for three hours today, without leaving the building.”  He looks up at Mickey, eyes puzzled.  “We don’t even have a bike.”

Damn.

--

The next day, Mickey thinks he has a better solution.  He wanders the neighborhood until he finds what he’s looking for, then goes around the side of a small brick house to jimmy open the back gate.  A few minutes later, and he’s heading to the park, a tiny chihuahua tucked under one arm.

They play catch for half an hour, and he lets it run around with his watch tied to its collar for longer than that while he idly scrolls through videos on his phone.  When it starts to get dark, he grabs up the pup and heads back, knocking on the door of the house he took it from to offer a frazzled old woman her missing dog back.  He pockets the twenty bucks she gives him as a reward.

This time, he’s sure it will work.  He went somewhere, so the GPS won’t give him away, and that damn dog sure stepped enough.

But Ian frowns again when Mickey presents the watch at the end of the day.

“Mickey,” he asks, exasperated.  “How on earth did you manage 16,000 steps in an hour?  Are you a marathon runner now?”

Fuck.  He hadn’t thought about how short the dog’s damn legs were.

--

Mickey is sure he has it down this time.  He has to leave the apartment, or the GPS will rat him out.  And a human has to take the steps, or the ratio won’t be right.  If it’s too much, Ian will get suspicious.  He can manage that.

This time, he finds a nearby gym, and lurks around until he spots a likely target.  

He runs straight into the young woman making for the door, dressed like she was on her way to an aerobics class.  He catches her immediately, offering sincere apologies while slipping her own activity tracker off her wrist.

“Oh, hey,” he calls after her as she heads inside.  “Think you dropped this.”  He holds out his tracker, and she thanks him profusely, putting it on her wrist.

“Not a problem,” he says graciously, and grins as she turns around and heads to class.

Later, he sneaks into the mostly-empty women’s locker room and steals it from her bag while she showers.  He spots the count on the screen, almost spot on, and leaves with a spring in his step.  Jackpot.

He hands the thing to Ian with glee later that night.  Ian looks at him with suspicion, which he pointedly ignores.   After tapping the screen, Ian looks impressed--then he keeps scrolling through the display, and sighs.

“Mickey,” he says, and nothing else.

“What?” Mickey asks defensively.  “What’s wrong now?”

Ian just turns the screen so he can see what it proudly displays: 45 minutes, swimming.

“The fuck?” Mickey grabs it out of Ian’s hand, taps at it like it will change what he sees.  “I swear I had it this time, what the--”

“You had it, huh?” Ian asks wryly, and Mickey feels himself flush. 

“I mean, yeah.”  He tosses the thing down onto the sofa between them, decides to double down.  “I went for a swim, you got a problem with that?”

“Yeah, I do,” Ian answers.  “Because your trunks are in the wash, and I don’t want all our neighbors watching my husband skinny dip.”

Damn it all.  Foiled again.

“Why don’t you just come for a jog with me tomorrow?” Ian offers.  “We can lower your goal a bit, get it done in one.”  He raises an eyebrow.  “And you can stop trying to fool me about it.”

Mickey thinks about it.  “Can we get donuts on the way back?” he wonders out loud, and Ian nods with a small smile.

“Fine then,” Mickey grouses.  “One jog, and you fuckin’ feed me after.”

“Sure Mickey,” Ian agrees as he moves the fitbit off the cushions so he can scoot close enough to wrap an arm around Mickey’s shoulders.  “It’s a deal.”

[ko-fanatic]

Blood, Guts and Chocolate Cake (Part 2)

Rating: Mature

Fandom: Danganronpa

Pairings: IshiMondo

Summary:

It seemed after the night before, Ishimaru was back to routine. The issue? Mondo wasn't previously aware of said routine.

TW: Alcohol, and eating disorders (both restrictive behaviours and B/P), mentions of disability, underage sex/sexualisation, drugs

Other parts: Part one

A/N: So, I reference a small headcanon of mine that Mondo has asthma. So fed up of it being seen as a "nerd" condition, so... The boi now has it. Not severe, but still.

Mondo made the executive decision to stay sleeping on the couch that night. Not that he was that bad off - the suite was VIP, after all, and the couch was comfy. he was a just bit miffed that, firstly, he had to do that in the first place because Mr Pretty Boy wanted to go clubbing, and secondly, there was a plush, California king sized bed in his room which was being tragically wasted. He hadn’t exactly had many chances to experience that sort of luxury, and he’d slept like the dead the past few nights. 

Maybe that was a problem. Had he just not realised? Some “Ultimate Bodyguard”, if that was the case. Shit… Little asshole, making him question things and get all shaky and crap. It might’ve had very little to do with Ishimaru, in full honesty, but he was too tired to think it through clearly. 

At least he did manage to get some sleep, despite being slightly cramped. He was over six feet tall, after all; not exactly made for sleeping on the couch. He’d even managed a rare, pleasant dream; dogs and cotton candy, Daiya’s obnoxious laugh and hanging with their friends in one of the many abandoned buildings they used as hangouts. They were such edgy little shits, but it wasn’t like anyone cared about the disused factories and crap. 

He’d been reliving the time Takemichi got his tongue piercing stuck in his jumper (somehow, Mondo still didn’t know how the hell someone did that), when he awoke. It wasn’t some crash or anything, just the usual sounds of someone pottering around, getting ready for the day. 

He groaned as he sat up, head pounding. He still felt exhausted, and he’d definitely drooled in his sleep. He turned to the window, and realised… It was still dark. Fucking really? After Mondo told him he wasn’t going out?

“Hold it right there,” He began, hoisting himself to his feet, doing his best not to fall straight over again, “I thought I said -”

Oh. He wasn’t wearing the tight jeans and such he was the night before. 

Ishimaru raised an immaculate eyebrow at him from where he was tying his trainers. “Relax, I’m going for a run,” He huffed, “I might as well get on with my regular routine, since someone -”

“I’m gonna cut you off right there, kid,” He grumbled, stretching out his back and arms, “What time is it? Sun’s not even out yet…”

“Owada-san, it’s winter,” The kid sighed, a deadpan look on his face, “It’s about 5:15AM.”

It was a damn good job he wasn’t drinking anything - he would have choked on it. Who the fuck even wakes up at five in the fucking morning, let alone after being awake at midnight? Not to mention the clothes. Mondo was praying, if the kid really was going to work out in some way, it’d be in a gym. Heating, shelter from the elements, a bench he could probably catch some z’s on because it’s not like anywhere’s going to be busy at five in the morning -

“Now, if you excuse me, I’m late for my run,” Ishimaru waved off, going to open the door before Mondo reached above him, slamming it closed once more. For a guy who worked out pretty constantly, it was pretty effortless to overpower his grip. Eh, guess that what comes from having lithe muscle for aesthetics, rather than the bulky stuff for actual strength. Not to mention the lack of warning  -

No, that shit could wait until later. Fucking focus, Mondo!

“You said routine… Have ya really been sneaking out every day?!” He demanded. He could’ve been a little softer about it, sure, but you have to understand; this wasn’t a good start to the job, especially if shit got out. Was he being overly paranoid? Yes. Did he not have a reason to be? He abso-fucking-lutely did! 

“It’s not sneaking anywhere,” The idol groaned, sounding very much like the stereotypical teenager in that moment, “I’m an idol. As such, I have an intensive exercise routine to stay trim, not to mention fit enough to perform my high-energy choreography. I just don’t see the need to wake you and have an irritable tough guy around me, when I can easily complete my run without dragging you the whole five miles.”

Five fucking miles?!

Oh, today was going to suck. Today was going to kick his ass and run him over with a truck. All because an idol needed to “stay trim”. Fuck, if the kid was any trimmer, he doubted he’d have any skin left. 

“Were the idols you guarded before babysat so extensively?” He kid questioned, raising an eyebrow. 

“In all fairness, you’re the youngest client I’ve had,” He grumbled, scrubbing his hand over his tired eyes, “But kid, you’ve got to tell me when you run off. Don’t care what for. You being famous, and pretty, and so skinny… I wasn’t kidding about my worry last night. Celebrities get murdered… Or worse.”

“You think… I’m…” The kid shook his head, cheeks red, gaze staring holes into his trainers, “I understand. I don’t like it - it’s suffocating! But… I see the logic.”

Mondo smiled, turning back to his room. He had to find some clothes that passed as exercise gear… 

---

Mondo knew someone had it out for him. 

He was wheezing as he jogged, trying to keep pace with Mr Trim in front of him, but lagging behind somewhat pitifully. He had his inhaler in his bag - he wasn’t that much of a dumbass - but holy fuck if this wasn’t torture. He didn’t do track in middle school. He was more than content to work on his strength and brawling skill. 

Speaking about things he was more than willing to do; laying down in the road, waiting for the next car to come along and end his misery, was getting far too attractive. 

Conversely, Ishimaru was just about breaking a sweat, panting. His insides weren’t threatening to become his outsides like Mondo’s were. Kid either had a stomach of steel, or he was just a lot more used to this shit than Mondo was - namely, the extensive train travel and exercise. 

Actually, considering the whole “Ultimate Idol” thing, it was most likely the latter. 

That was when his legs noped out of the situation, sending him stumbling and falling. He didn’t cry out, per se, so much as let out a manly grunt of surprise. 

Who was he fucking kidding? Ishimaru heard him through his headphones and blaring music. 

“Owada -san!” He called, rushing to his side in an instant, “Are you hurt?! Can you speak?! What’s wrong?!”

Ugh, so loud. 

“What’s wrong,” He grunted, “Is that someone is punishing me!” 

Maybe a tad dramatic, but holy hell! Fuck five miles, it felt like he’d run a marathon. 

“I don’t know if I royally pissed off someone up there -!”

He pointed an accusatory finger at the idol.

“Or someone down here! Like, sorry kid, but I give! Just doing my fucking job!”

Mondo watched the idol’s carefully cute and prim expression crack apart, his dignified (if far too loud) concern quickly falling into laughter and snorts. He had half a mind to be rather offended, but the carefully crafted exterior melting into those cute as hell snorts and chortling… That wasn’t even mentioning the look on the idol’s face. Pure fucking sunshine. 

Could he not be a queer disaster for five fucking minutes?!

“You’re rather funny, Owada-san,” Ishimaru chuckled. 

“Mondo.”

“Huh?” The idol barely breathed - lord above, give him strength - staring at him wide-eyed. Of course, that tends to be what happened when he let his tongue go before his brain.

“Ya can call me Mondo, none of that ‘Owada-san’ crap,” He grumbled, and he will eternally blame the heat in his cheeks on the marathon he was sure the other dragged him through.

“Oh! Well, in that case… You can call me Taka!” The kid - Taka, Goddamnit that’s cute - grinned. He was going to have to invest in those cheesy, stereotypical sunglasses if the kid was just going to unleash that megawatt smile on him without a shred of warning. Then, the kick to the crotch he really needed in that moment - 

“Now, as you’ve caught your breath, we should keep going! Obviously such a long break isn’t ideal for cardio, but we can still -”

He just flopped down once more, groaning like a man dying.

“I said sorry, didn’t I?! Ya don’t need to keep punishing me! I fucking give!” 

“Mondo,” Kiyotaka sighed, standing once more and looking at his FitBit, “Do you want to know how many miles of my morning run we’ve completed?” 

“I don’t know, ten, you animal!”

He was sent a rather disapproving, levelling look. “Two,” Taka deadpanned, “We’ve got three miles to go.”

That truck Mondo mentioned? The one the day was going to run him over with?

Yeah, it reversed for another hit.

[ghostofbambifanfiction]

For the texting prompts, “challenge”

Beatrice Booth: Two hours and counting!

Lily Evans: Yeah, I’M AWARE, thank you.

Beatrice Booth: Just reminding you bb pip pip!

Lily Evans: Could you PLEASEJUST

Beatrice Booth: It’s for your own good

Lily Evans: You are asking me to make a major life change and instead of love and support I’m getting “pip pip!” and “two hours and counting!”

Beatrice Booth: LOL major life change ok ms drama

Lily Evans: I’m sorry, but in what universe does this NOT change things?

Beatrice Booth: You’re acting like things are going to change in a bad way

Lily Evans: They might.

Beatrice Booth: They won’t

Lily Evans: They MIGHT.

Beatrice Booth: OMG just get on with it ffs I’m growing a beard here waiting.

Lily Evans: I. Am. Doing. It. Now. Go. Away.

Beatrice Booth: LOL send screenshotsDo you have a plan?

Lily Evans: Sort of.

Beatrice Booth: What is it?

*

Lily Evans: How am I even supposed to START and also who TEXTS someone to tell them how they feel about them in the first place that’s so impersonal and I HATE you, honestly????

James Potter: what?

Lily Evans: Oh, shit.I’m sorry, I typed this in the wrong conversation.It’s meant to be for Beatrice.

James Potter: that’s okay

Lily Evans: I’ll have to get back to you on how I somehow mistook your Whatsapp pic for hers.

James Potter: i don’t know what you’re talking about, beatrice looks exactly like a huge ginger cat wearing a male stripper’s bow tie

Lily Evans: What distinguishes it as a stripper’s bow tie and not just a bow tie?Is there a specific website where strippers buy their apparel?

James Potter: yeah it’s where i buy all of my tearaway trousersit’s a stripper’s bow tie because algernon is otherwise naked, obviously

Lily Evans: Obviously.So…can any piece of clothing can be stripper clothing if it’s the only thing you’re wearing?Which by default means you can wear stripper clothes when you’re not stripping?

James Potter: anything but crocs

Lily Evans: That’s fair.A naked person in crocs already has more problems than I’m ever likely to face in my lifetime.

James Potter: yeah but they’re getting terrific arch support

Lily Evans: What about shower caps?

James Potter: ANYTHING but crocs

Lily Evans: So you’d rather be in a strip club where the strippers were wearing a shower cap than one where the strippers wore crocs?

James Potter: i’d rather not be in any strip club, they’re depressing and full of creepslike whyeveryone knows why you’re therethe women don’t like youif you’re gonna be a sad pervert have the decency to keep that between you and your google search history

Lily Evans: What’s the last thing on your Google search history?

James Potter: “world’s largest lego store?”what’s yours?

Lily Evans: “How to tell the boy you like that you like him because your stupid best friend beat you in a year-long contest and forced you to do it as a forfeit?”Subheading: “She SAYS this is her idea of lockdown self-improvement but that’s bullshit, she’s just thirsty for drama”

James Potter: ahrightokay coolfirst text makes sense then hahawait, YEAR long????

Lily Evans: Yeah, look, it had a lot of different components and a whole escalating points system and it’s a whole thing, whatever, I’m never doing it again.Her victories were total flukes.Like, wow, you guessed the Eurovision winner, well done.I’m also pretty sure she was cheating with the steps counter but I don’t even want to get into that, honestly.

James Potter: mum gave me and sirius fitbits so she could make sure we took 10000 a day and sirius tricked her by putting his on his right wrist when he was wanking

Lily Evans: It’s weird that you know that.

James Potter: it’s weird that you don’t, he tells everyonedid you find anything?

Lily Evans: Where?

James Potter: in your google search?

Lily Evans: I found “100 Inspiring Quotes That Will Increase Your Confidence,” so no.

James Potter: inspiring quotes are like placebos except at no point do they have you fooledyou know they’re not gonna work

Lily Evans: Yeah, like it’s nice that some guy named Norman Vincent Peale wants me to believe in myself but that doesn’t suddenly mean that I do.

James Potter: you should believe in yourself, you’re brilliantbut you should also narrow your search parameters because that situation is way too specific

Lily Evans: I do believe in myself. Mostly.But like, not only do I have to tell this person that I have a crush on him, I have to do it to a bloody deadline.Nothing really prepares you for that, you can’t take romantic entanglements for your A Level.And apparently Google’s unfamiliar with the concept, so.

James Potter: it’s not remus, is it?tell me it’s not remus

Lily Evans: What?

James Potter: the person you fancy?i mean, not that i have any personal investment in the issue i just know he likes beatrice and wouldn’t want you to get hurt and that’s the tea

Lily Evans: ????????What makes you think it’s Remus?

James Potter: i dunno he justhe seems like the kind of person you’d like

Lily Evans: Me specifically?

James Potter: yeah

Lily Evans: Because?

James Potter: because he’s academic in a good way

Lily Evans: There’s a bad way to be academic?

James Potter: course there isremus is academic in the way that tries, not the way that fucks around and gets good marks by coasting on natural brilliance, which according to my mum can cultivate laziness and that’s why my chore list is so extensivehe’s funny in a dry wayhe’s not a dramatic idiothis hair is tidyhe probably understands mortgages

Lily Evans: You’re describing a male me and I don’t know why you think I’d want to date that.Also, I’m seventeen.Why would I need to understand mortgages?

James Potter: i hear it’s good to get on the property ladder early

Lily Evans: Do you WANT me to be into Remus?

James Potter: there’s no good answer to that question

Lily Evans: Because I’m not into Remus.You have a really skewed idea of what my type is.

James Potter: are you sure?

Lily Evans: Yeah, no, I’m pretty sure I haven’t mistaken him for the totally DIFFERENT person I fancy.

James Potter: i think he has an everyman quality that people find quite charmingit’s possible that you could have

Lily Potter: He’s not a Ditto, James. He can’t transform at will.

James Potter: though thinking about itwould be a bit weird if beatrice was pushing you to tell remus you liked himshe’s mentioned liking remus once or twice

Lily Evans: Once or twice a minute.I can’t believe you thought that “academic” and “understands mortgages” were my major qualifiers.Like, honestly it’s a bit offensive that you think I’m that stodgy.

James Potter: no it isn’t and i never said stodgyit was a commentary on how mature you are!and how you have sensible priorities!

Lily Evans: You say “mature” but you mean “stodgy.”

James Potter: that is not what i mean

Lily Evans: BRB digging out one of my nan’s cardigans and buying some thermal underwear and maybe taking up bridge as a hobby.Maybe I can book a spot on one of those OAP singles cruises and meet someone at a shuffleboard tournament?If I’m lucky he’ll have a full pension.

James Potter: i feel like i should inform you that plenty of old people are out there living wild livesi mean, not right now because of lockdown, but

Lily Evans: But apparently I’m not.

James Potter: what’s wrong with liking those things about a person??i like those things about youand about peopleplural

Lily Evans: NOTHING but they shouldn’t be THE thing.Like, it’s so mercenary. You’re saying I’d only want to date someone because they stand a good chance of making it in a decent career and being a good provider and not because they’re sweet or kind or funny.

James Potter: firstly, i mentioned that remus is funny and secondly that’s not what i meanti meant that you would want to date someone who was your intellectual equal so you would never feel that you weren’t smart enough for them or that they weren’t smart enough to stay on your level

Lily Evans: And that translates to “academic in a good way” how?

James Potter: okay what i just said was a) true and b) a straight up compliment and you’re just blowing right past it

Lily Evans: Maybe I am, but that still doesn’t explain how it translates.Like, since I’m assuming that you, THE smartest person I know, think you’re academic in a bad way, does that mean you think YOU’RE not on my level?Is that a conversation we need to have now?

James Potter: my middle name is oddjob

Lily Evans: Wait what??

James Potter: you’ve mistaken my compliment for an insult and you’re mad at me so i’m trying to distract youand just so you knowthis is my deepest darkest secretonly sirius and my parents know my middle name

Lily Evans: Wait, Oddjob like the Bond villain??????

James Potter: you are part of an elite group of people i’d trust with my life so please appreciate thatyes like the bond villain

Lily Evans: Were you a particularly complicated birth or something?Were your parents punishing you somehow?

James Potter: complicated pregnancymum was on bedrest for weeksshe was so bored that she watched all of the bond movies because they were the only films dad kept in the house and streaming wasn’t a thing back then, and that’s the story of why my name is james instead of sebastian

Lily Evans: James Oddjob.

James Potter: james oddjob

Lily Evans: They were going to call you Sebastian?

James Potter: mum’s choiceshe thought it was debonair and rakish

Lily Evans: I’m…really disproportionately thrilled that they didn’t go with Sebastian.

James Potter: because i’m not rakish or debonair enough?

Lily Evans: No, because you’re such a James.

James Potter: what qualifies a person to be “such a james?”

Lily Evans: I dunno.It’s just you, isn’t it? Your personality. You’re a James.

James Potter: there are loads of other people with that name, you know

Lily Evans: Yeah, and every time I speak to one I’m like, who is this clown and why is he using a name that doesn’t belong to him?

James Potter: lol

Lily Evans: #NotMyJames

James Potter: oh, so i’m YOUR james now?

Lily Evans: You know what I mean.

James Potter: no i don’t, please explain yourselfdid you call dibs?sirius will be pissed

Lily Evans: Do you want me to get mad at you again?

James Potter: were you ever really mad to begin with?

Lily Evans: SIGH. No.

James Potter: can’t believe you typed out a sigh

Lily Evans: I’m just stressed.I have…just over an hour? To tell this guy I like him.And Beatrice is demanding screenshots as proof.

James Potter: why is she even making you do this?

Lily Evans: She says that he likes me too and we’re just wasting time that could otherwise be spent swiping our v-cards in a slow march towards death, and that in the event that he doesn’t, we won’t be able to see each other for weeks anyway so I can avoid any awkward encounters.It’s a compelling argument, must admit.Assuming he hasn’t already…swiped?I haven’t swiped.Have you swiped?I’m talking about sex, by the way.

James Potter: yeah, i got that i’m not twelveno i have not swipedbut you want to?with this person who also likes you and would therefore also want to?

Lily Evans: Only according to Beatrice. He probably doesn’t.And I mean, not immediately. Not like, right now. But eventually, yeah.

James Potter: brb my mum’s calling me from downstairs

*

James Potter: pls come home from supermarket mum D: D: D: D:

Euphemia Potter: What’s wrong darling?

James Potter: i am dying

Euphemia Potter: What?

James Potter: i am in severe pain

Euphemia Potter: Where is the pain?

James Potter: in my emotions

Euphemia Potter: For goodness’ sake, James!Sending me a message like that during an international crisis!I thought you were seriously ill!

James Potter: heartbreak IS a serious afflictioni’ve just found out that lily has a crush on someone!!!??? and i am?? dying????

Euphemia Potter: Who does she have a crush on?

James Potter: i don’t know, she hasn’t said his name

Euphemia Potter: You tortoise, she obviously has a crush on you.

James Potter: you are biased in my favour because you are the woman who birthed me

Euphemia: Right now I am anything but biased in your favour.As punishment for subjecting your mother to needless worry, you can give the oven a good cleaning before I get home.That will cure you of your “affliction.”And remember to charge Diablo.

James Potter: you show that roomba more respect than you’ve ever shown me!

Euphemia Potter: Well at least the Roomba is useful.

James Potter: OUCH

*

James Potter: backturns out my mum just needed to insult me deeply

Lily Evans: Hey.

James Potter: still stressed out?

Lily Evans: Unbelievably.

James Potter: you know you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, yeah?

Lily Evans: No, I do.I promised her I’d do it.And I want to tell him.Sort of.I do sometimes think he might like me back.He says things sometimes, you know? And he looks at me in a certain way and I just, idk.It’s just, how do I even broach that in a text message?

James Potter: i have no idea

Lily Evans: Like, just come out and say it?

James Potter: honestly evans, don’t think i’m the right person to asklike, reallynot the right personreally really REALLY not the person to ask about this

Lily Evans: But you must have an opinion?

James Potter: i have no opinions on anything everexcept crocs on strippers but disregard thatyou know what you should do? ask remushe’s wise like a wolf

Lily Evans: Since when are wolves known for their wisdom?

James Potter: owls thenhe could probably make helpful suggestions

Lily Evans: I like you.

James Potter: yeah, go with that, whatever works

Lily Evans: James

James Potter: what?

Lily Evans: I literally just…my GOD, Potter.

James Potter: what?

Lily Evans: Nothing.

James Potter: what????

Lily Evans: Nothing, honestly, it’s fine.I’ll tell you to your face when I next see you.

James Potter: tell me what?tell me what????wait nolilydo youwas that about me?tell me what?????lilylilyLILYTELL ME WHAT?

[copperbadge]

fruitgoat replied to your post “In looking for an old post this morning I ran across one in which I...”

This sounds completely on brand for you. Probably as a lead-in to accidentally becoming a celebrity guru and then being injured by an armadillo.

Being a guru just seems very stressful. At least, the hollywood kind of guru. Perhaps if I avoid that I can avoid the armadillo too :D

kc-crawfish replied to your post “Sam you're the resident food expert, so I'm curious to hear your...”

Whenever someone says they don’t like mayonnaise, I think about the fact that most commercial brands make it wrong. It’s supposed to be made with egg yolks only, but almost all of the ones in grocery stores use whole eggs instead. That’s why I’m a Blue Plate snob (and because I’m a New Orleanian).

I think for me it’s a texture thing -- although making it only with the yolks might solve that problem too. But it’s the thin oiliness of it that I don’t care for. Mind you, I don’t mind it in cooking, like in deviled eggs or egg salad or similar, and I’ll eat lobster roll if it’s a lobster-salad type of deal, but mayo straight on a sandwich, no thanks. 

punchholesinthesky replied to your photo “Whenever I go out on my bike (and if I go running outside), I use an...”

is that strava? I always use the follow my ride option when I head out on my own

No -- it’s RoadID/eCrumb, it’s designed more to let other people track you than to track yourself, the functionality’s quite basic. I do have a fitbit that I use for run tracking. 

delphia2000 replied to your photo “So uh. You guys remember that Breadroom Set post?  A generous Anon...”

Is the bread pillow firm enough for good support? I could use a new body pillow.

Not really, it’s quite soft, but I will say that the pillowcase is removable, so if you wanted to stuff a firmer pillow into it you probably could. It’s also not reaaaally a body pillow -- it’s longer than a normal pillow but not quite long enough to be what I’d think of as a body pillow. 

kitsparrow replied to your post “,Snape is trans!! How delightful. I had to reread SH with all the talk...”

Possibly also the "slow-burn" feel came from when it was more like twenty short chapters before you combined them?

Yeah, and/or the fact that I posted it as I wrote, so it was posted over a series of months. 

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Writing Excerpt for Tonight: The Bad Arc Begins

The little bell over the door jingles when Danny walks in, still humming to himself, Ryan’s borrowed earbud still in one ear playing his music. You better run like the devil, cause they’re never gonna leave you alone… 

The bookstore is pretty empty at mid-morning on a Tuesday, and he can see a couple of people sitting at tables working on their laptops in the coffeeshop area, hear the sounds of books being shuffled on shelves further in, but almost no one even looks up.

Those who do, don’t keep looking.

It’s nice, Danny thinks, to finally have been home long enough that everyone knows who he is, and they don’t stare at his scars.

He gets in line to order, by himself, trying not to feel ashamed of himself for the stab of pride he feels at the accomplishment, still. Dr. Rosa is always telling him to own his pride, that when you have had so much taken away it’s natural to take pride in a return to even basic, normal things like ordering for yourself, making your own choice about what you want to eat or drink.

And he just ran like nine miles, he is starving and his legs feel like they’re about to fall off. But they’re his legs. 

My name is Daniel Michaelson. My legs belong to me and I can make them stronger if I want to.

The line moves fast - it’s mostly people grabbing basic coffees, nothing too exciting. Danny doesn’t have a phone - he doesn’t like them, he can’t stand them - but Ryan had forced his stupid FitBit on Danny’s wrist (Look, just do this for me, Danny, okay? We worry when you’re out) and he checks the time. Still an hour, hour and a half before Nate expects him home. 

Finally, it’s his turn, and Danny blinks when he steps up and the barista is wrong.

Melody works in the bookstore five days a week, day shift. Danny sees her five days a week, for morning coffee when he doesn’t want to make it, or trips with Nate, or post-run drinks now that he’s running again. Melody, pink-haired and adorably short and a bundle of smiles and enthusiasm, is always there.

Melody isn’t there today.

Instead, a shortish, prettyish person with bright almost jungle-green hair is smiling faintly at him, dressed in a black-and-white T-shirt and black jeans. “Hi, what can I get started for you?” 

It takes Danny a second to pull himself together. “Um, uh, where’s, um, where’s Melody? She, she usually works…”

“Oh, sorry. Melody had to go help a customer. Difficult. You know how it is.” The green-haired barista’s smile widens just a fraction, almost mechanically, and they roll their eyes conspiratorially, like, we’re all in this together, retail workers of America.

Danny swallows and nods, nervous in a way he can’t quite explain. He can feel sweat from the run drying on his skin, the way his shirt is sticking just a little against his back between his shoulder blades. He needs to get back home for a shower more than he needs to stand around being a wimp, scared that a single thing changed in his daily routine. “Oh, okay. Can, can you tell her I said, um, hi? I… I see her every day. Do you not, um, usually work daytime? I haven’t… seen you…”

“I’ll tell her, no problem. And no, I usually close.” They shrug, casual and easy, but Danny keeps thinking they look weird around the eyes, almost empty, like there’s nothing there. “What do you need? Let’s get your drink started.”

“Um. Okay. Could, could I get an, um, just a large iced coffee with two pumps vanilla and a blueberry scone? Would be great, thanks.” He hunches his shoulders, shoving his hands into the pockets on his running pants.

“Got it. Name for your order?” 

Danny pauses, blinks. Melody hasn’t asked his name in months, maybe. It’s… kind of nice, to not be recognized. And whoever this person is, they haven’t looked at his scars too long or anything, not once. “Um, Danny. D-A-N-N-Y. Just, um, I’m Danny.”

“Oh, cool. So you are Daniel Michaelson. I thought so.” Their eyes flicker to his and take in his flinch, the way his face starts to color, and then they lean over. “Hey, I’m sorry. Sorry, man. I just mean, Melody talks about you a lot.”

“Oh… she, um, she does?” That cheers him, a little. He likes Melody. She’s safe, and even with what happened with the guy - Connor Manning, that’s the name on the police report - the bookstore is still safe. He has safe places - here, and the bigger chain bookstore downtown, the restaurants he likes, his apartment… he doesn’t want to lose any of them. 

“Yeah. Hey, I gotta help the guy behind you, I’ll get your drink and your scone right up.” They wave him off and Danny tries on a shy smile that widens when they smile back at him. Then he turns around, goes to browse the new arrivals, his eyes skimming over titles and covers and barely even seeing them. He bounces on the balls of his feet, a little, feeling the stretch in his legs as a welcome burn.

His body, and he’ll make it stronger, day by day, run by run. Meal by meal.

His body, and he chooses what goes into it, and how he uses it.

Danny twists the ring on his left ring finger, glancing down at the engraved SURVIVOR, and smiles. He survived, and Nate is right - that means something, something really, really important. Something he shouldn’t forget.

He was broken, but he didn’t have to stay that way.

When they call his name, he heads back over, taking his iced coffee and scone and saying a soft thank you. They only smile at him, a little tightly, and go back to making the drink for the guy behind him. 

Danny heads back out the door, hearing the bell jangle again as he pushes it open. He doesn’t hear the green-haired barista murmur, “I’m so fucking sorry,” under their breath as he leaves.

He takes a bite of his scone first, and then a sip of his iced coffee, and he stops out on the sidewalk, frowning. Something about the coffee doesn’t taste right. There’s still gummy scone in his mouth, though, and after a second Danny just swirls the straw around, stirring the drink, and then tries it again.

There, that’s better. 

Danny heads back down the sidewalk towards home, and with every sip of his drink, the weird taste - maybe just sugar-free syrup, it’s kind of like that - bothers him less and less. 

[cripple-cryptid]

Progress

Okay, I’m finally figuring things out. Guess what guys? Buckle the fuckle up cuz this is gonna be a long post.

Not exactly in the most timely of manners, but I’m getting there. it’s 2:40 in the morning. I swear I don’t plan on writing these posts at the same times every night. I just happen to be thinking most clearly at this time.

It’s been slow going. I’m tired. I’m sore. I’m scared. But I’m trying my best.

The new symptoms are still hard to handle, and my new meds have made my “new normal” hard to deal with. I know I keep saying that, but for real. As soon as I think we have a handle on things, and I can finally breathe a sigh of relief, things fall apart and I’m back at square one. My doctor is continuing to mess around with various medications and dosages, meaning that side effects are just all sorts of fun.

Oh yeah, did I mention other symptoms are popping up now? Yeah, that’s a thing now too. Yeah...I’m getting an ever growing list of new symptoms, and even new problems unrelated to my newest issue. Did you know that you can jam your radius and ulna into your wrist? Because I didn’t! Yeah, apparently I did that.

And just when I thought I was going to have everything under control, everything we already knew about decided to go, “Hey Sava, fuck you!” And everything now sucks like 10x more. But hey, whatever.

I know it sounds like I’m just bitching, and that nothing has changed in the past like 6 or 7 weeks or however long it has been since all this shit has started.

But shit has changed. And I’m still in the process of changing. I’m gonna write about all of it here, but I’m also going to go more in depth about each thing I’m doing to help myself later on in posts for each subjects.

Here is where I will bold and italicize important things that I want people to read. 

First things first, I have ADHD, I’m (likely) Autistic, and I have horrible brain fog. I’m also incredibly irresponsible with taking my meds, and have been known for skipping my doses. I had not been consistent with my medications since I was in treatment, which was when I was 17. To change that fact, and to make sure that I took care of myself in other ways, I decided to make myself a schedule. I have it synced it to my fitbit, and to various other accounts in order for me to be able to look at it at all times. I will never forget to take care of myself again. I have reminders for snacks, electrolytes, and I even have a 2 hour block of time every day designated to rest. Make sure to put in even small reminders for yourself, because you are important.

Replace your cravings!! Okay so if there are certain dietary requirements that you have to adhere to that cannot be kept when I talk about this, or if talking about food too much is a bad thing, skip this. I feel you. I love you, and take care of yourself. For me, though, I have the most horrific sweet tooth ever and nothing I have done so far has been able to actually get me to eat “properly” as they say. I’ve never been able to satisfy my sweet tooth in all my life, and I’m 22. I’m sitting here at 4AM now buying different snacks that I will then later portion out and eat throughout the day instead of eating candy and shit like I used to. I also learned that sugar causes a lot of inflammation! However, ginger candy is your best friend! It helps me to suck on one if I’m nervous or nauseous.

I’m still learning, but crisis kits will save your life. I can’t really elaborate very much on this one as of yet, but find the things that you need most in times of desperation. Find tools that help you most. Set yourself up to make your life easiest when you aren’t at your best. If you need to, type up a list or a guide for anyone that may need to help you if you cannot help yourself.

Electrolytes are a godsend! Okay maybe not a “godsend” but you get what I mean. I’m working on a more diligent schedule for consuming my basic requirement of Magnesium and Sodium each day, because I need more of both in order to help myself. I would suggest setting times between your “water reminders” as well if you need to have more electrolytes in your life, too.

[robinruns]

Where I've Been

Fuck. Its been a day. Literally. I was going to make a big post about everything going on from this weekend, so at this point I may as well include yesterday in it too. I feel like I'm burying the lead here, but if I don’t try to type this up in some kind of order, I won't get everything.

Saturday me and Kyle had awesome breakfast of chocolate chip pancakes and before noon headed up to Manitowoc. We went straight to the Wisconsin Maritime Museum, which is where packet pickup was held. I got my bib, shirt, a cowbell, and a free pair of socks! Naturally I chose purple.

Then we went through the museum, which has lots of actual boats, an actual steam engine, attached to a giant prop, and the coolest part, we got to go on a submarine! They have a WWII submarine docked at this place and you can go on and take a tour. The whole thing was so narrow! And they said it was usually like 100° in there. Ugh, the men who were working on those subs were true heroes.

We went back to the hotel after that, grabbed dinner from Noodles and I watched a good portion of Mortal Engines on the shitty wifi. I went to bed about 9:30 and crashed immediately.

I got up pretty easily about 5:00 on Sunday and started getting ready. They had shuttles starting at 6 to the start line and I was on that first shuttle so there was some time just hanging out. I saw there was a 4:50 pace group so I was like ok, I can hang with this guy. The race went well in the first half. I was able to hang with this group really well.

The vast majority of the race you are running right along Lake Michigan and it's just incredible. It's one thing to stand in a spot and be like wow, look at the lake, it's another to run along it for miles and miles and it just goes on and on as far as the eye can see. It feels like the ocean, but you know its not.

The route takes you from Manitowoc to Two Rivers, where you turn around and head back, that's when the group took off when I stopped to go to the bathroom, and I couldn't ever catch up to them. Then it really became a mental game. I think I handled it pretty well, until about mile 18 when I was like I'm hungry. Not oh let me take a shot blok and some Gatorade hungry, like GIVE ME A FUCKING CHEESEBURGER hungry. That's when things became a problem. Oh and then my Dad texted me at mile 20ish and said he was proud of me and I started crying, and then at 21ish my Garmin died. Fully charged I will note.

But I think being able to see Manitowoc in the distance really helped, I could see I was getting closer as I trudged along. And I knew there were people behind me, so I was like I'm doing ok, I'll be ok.

The last mile has a good size hill, which sucked since the course is so flat, so I walked it. But when I got to the top I took off again and I had Champion playing and I ran hard into the finish.

First thing I do? Go get a hamburger.

I told Kyle I felt like I was gonna cry, and he replies "well why did you put so many sad songs on your playlist?" 😐🙄 No! I was just emotional from finishing the race again! And I felt like I did it right this time, I left it out there. I don't have any regrets other than I just wish I could have maintained my pace in the 2nd half or hung with the pace group longer. I should have been able to hang with them through mile 20 based on my Syttende Mai performance, ya know? Maybe I did too much that day. Who knows, all I know is I'm satisfied.

Then as I'm eating this burger that I've been craving for so long, I turn on data so I can sync my Fitbit and then that headline comes up. Y'all know the one. Jonas Brothers hint at MCR reunion.

I, in that moment, started to not believe I was still living. Something happened on the course, and I'm in The Good Place. And yes, later I read a lot of people rationalizing it as, it was probably FIATFV rehearsing for their tour, since it was in NYC, but still. As long as it makes the guys happy, I'm happy with whatever they choose to do, reunite, stay split up, whatever. I'm Team Happy MCR.

So we went back to the hotel, Kyle packed while I got a shower. I wore a tank top and had my hair in braids and I noticed when I was done, the hair ties beat against my back for so long in the same spots that I got welts! Crazy! Also leave it to the fucking vampire to get sunburned on a cloudy day. Not too bad, but I got tan lines on my back. Not that I care, but still.

We grabbed brunch at Perkins and had very Leslie Knope and Ron Swanson-esque meals. When we got home I finished my movie while eating Elephant Tracks ice cream for dinner.

Yesterday the morning was nice and chill. I'm officially back on the watching what I eat bandwagon, so things were less indulgent yesterday.

Then I get a text from my mom to call her. Fuck. That's never good.

My aunt passed away suddenly and unexpectedly at age 70. She died in her sleep either of a heart attack or stroke. My grandma, her mom, had a heart attack, and then a stroke which ultimately killed her, 20 years ago.

Cancer took my mom's dad and sister, my mom had cancer like 25+ years ago. Heart problems took my dad's parents, and now his sister. These are all things I need to consider when making life choices. It's like oh I'm young, but things have an impact down the road. Your weight, your dietary choices. I also have the potential in my genes to live to 97 like my Grandma did, passing away just two years ago.

Despite the news I went on with my regularly scheduled day off stuff and got my hair done. I texted some people, like @breakfastwiththesun and emailed my boss so hopefully people aren’t annoying when I get back in to work today. Then I went to Target and met up with my mom. I had to go grocery shopping and it helped both of us I think.

I'm the type of person who when something happens, I have to spring into action, but there was no action for me to spring into. The coroner hadn't even determined a cause at this point, let alone when anything would be.

Now we know that it will be a memorial service at some later date. Hopefully the last week of the month, but who knows.

And with all that, I've been off social media for the most part. Just I've been busy, but also just cleaning up files and stuff on my computer. I didn't want to make a million stupid, rambling posts that I'd regret in a day.

I also kinda didn’t wanna talk about this. I don't want people to feel forced to feel sorry for me. I feel more bad for her son, it's his birthday today, and he's the cousin I feel closest too. Or for her grandkids. Just yea. I dunno. It's been a weird few days.

[douxreviews]

Legends of Tomorrow - ‘Hey, World!’ Review

"Yeah, this innocent moment where kids aren’t afraid? It’s resonating with people."

I'm not crying. You're crying.

Apologies, this is a long one. I had a lot to process.

So, that was season four of Legends of Tomorrow, that was.

I've been wrestling with how I feel about this one for a few days longer than I wanted to due to an internet outage, and I'm still not entirely sure, outside of the fact that it absolutely made me cry at least twice.

I think, ultimately, the season four finale felt much less focused and more sprawling that last year's 'The Good, The Bad, and The Cuddly.'  That's not necessarily a bad thing. 'I'm not sure where they're going with this' is one of the holy grails as far as audience responses go, but only if you're also communicating the impression that you, the showrunner, do.

It might be useful to compare this year's finale with last year's in terms of one specific aspect. Specifically, how they both used the various plot coupons from the earlier episodes of the season as plot elements in the season's resolution. In season three, the main 'phlebotinums' of the season were the six totems, and of course Beebo. The season was structured around introducing those seven items, and then showing us how they could be combined correctly to resolve the season's villain. And it involved a giant stuffed animal on demon ninja fight, which was awesome.

The fact that it was the combination of those earlier plot coupons that resolved the issue made that resolution feel nicely focused and the natural ending for the season. And further, because they had the solid structural underpinning they also could also bring back Helen of Troy, and Blackbeard, and a random Viking or two for a fun callback. They had already demonstrated that the callback references to previous episodes were there for a justifiable purpose, which meant that they could throw a few frivolous ones in without hurting anything.

This season's callbacks felt much less structured and integral to the final resolution, and so they felt a little more gratuitous.

This kind of dovetails into the real problem this episode has, and it's one that you might have heard me mention before. Sing along in the back if you know the words; This should have been three episodes.

Because what the show was clearly interested in getting to was the big final showdown between the abstract power of fear and the abstract power of love. Which is great, and once they got there was fabulous. I swear I'll get around to saying positive things in a minute or two. Everything after Nate creates the circus using the book from 'Tagumo Attacks!!!' is paced perfectly. The eventual sacrifices were both foreshadowed to the exact right degree and were staggered with precision, the onset of Zari's tragedy coming right where it should at the moment we'd begun to exhale after Nate's resurrection. However, that good pacing comes in at about halfway through the episode's runtime, prior to which we'd been sprinting flat out to get all of the pieces in place for the final confrontation as quickly as we possibly can.

So, in the space of the first few minutes we go from Neron wanting to rule Hell as his motive to Neron wanting to collect fear, which kind of undercuts the clever terms of service reveal last week, but whatever. Then he apparently overthrows the Triumvirate anyway during the commercial break, as John speaks of it to Astra as a fait accompli. Then he doesn't want the fear itself, per se, but wants to use it to open a gateway to Hell so that they can come here for him to rule.

That feels like three solid end of episode reveals that we could have been wowed by over the course of three individual episodes. Because the evolution of his plan doesn't not make sense, if you follow me, it just evolves way, way too quickly to track well, and clearly only matters to get that final pit opening scene in the circus properly set up.

And hey, on that note, one of those three episodes could have been the 'Mick stealing the book of Brigid back from the Time Bureau' story that we were robbed of here. Honestly, they literally cut from Ava saying 'That will be super hard to steal' to Mick walking in holding the book saying, 'No, I totes already stole it, lets move on with the plotline.' That's just profoundly lazy plotting, and I get that it wasn't their fault, and that they didn't have any choice because the reduced episode count was never going to allow time for 'Mick-sion Impossible,' but it jars badly in context. And damn it, I totally just gave them the perfect episode title for it. I demand that they film it and include it as a DVD extra.

It honestly feels like they zipped through the first half of plot mechanics at least partially because they wanted to invest a lot of time setting up season five and it came at the expense of the season four wrap up. I specifically refer to the whole thing with the soul token/coin thing. As the episode was unfolding it felt like they were spending a lot of screen time setting up the mechanics of Hell's soul exchange which could have been time better spent telling the story at hand. At the conclusion, of course, we get the reveal of Astra and her menagerie of stolen coins, setting her and them up as the villains of next season. Which is, to be fair, a cool premise. Notice that we only saw a handful of the names on those coins, which means they can still turn out to be just about anyone. Dare I hope that the name Damien Darhk turns out to be on one of them?

Okay. We've danced around it long enough. Let's talk about Zari. First off, a big acknowledgement of how wrong I was in my review of the last episode where I mentioned that they were probably never going to get around to addressing the whole future dystopia thing. No, turns out that they were going to use its resolution as one of the foundations of season five. I should have had more faith. Second, a big shout out to percysowner, who opined in the comments thread last week that perhaps Zari would imprint on the dragon and that would undo the future dystopia. If you're reading this, percysowner, I publicly acknowledge that you read that situation much better than I did.

I genuinely thought they were killing off both Zari and Nate, I honestly did. I clocked the Nate/Constantine swap exactly when the show wanted me to, which was a satisfying and heartbreaking payoff to the Neron situation. It worked because Nate sacrificing himself and John telling Nate about the deal so that he would make the choice to do so is just so entirely on brand for both of them.

Also on brand; Zari leaving the safety of the ship to be with Nate when he died. Their final embrace before she faded away was a truly heartbreaking moment. I totally take back my earlier misgivings about their relationship. Similarly touching, Nate's farewell conversation with Hank in the rafters. I'm on record as not being a huge fan of Hank, but setting that aside, the callback to his James Taylor moment was well judged here, and I'm happy for Nate that he got that little bit of closure. Oh, and that he gets to still be alive.

So, Zari is out there somewhere living her life never having met the Legends, and in her place we have her brother Berhad, which explains why they went to such extraordinary lengths to get rid of the necklace earlier and turn it into a manly fitbit of power.

One parting thought on this change, as heartbreaking as it feels right now. Zari as we know her has left the show, but Tala Ashe has not. Apparently the Zari they find next season is going to be very different. And let's not forget that we're only a few months away from Crisis on Infinite Earths, in which all of reality is going to be put through a meat grinder and reformed on the other side. I have to believe we haven't seen the last of Zari.

Caity Lotz' impression of Melissa Benoist - Hysterical, and just a little bit mean.

Everybody remember where we parked.

This week we were all about Washington D.C in 2019 and Hell. Assuming that those are in fact two different places.

Insert drum snare.

Quotes:

Ogre: "Ha ha! Ogre wins again!" Mick: "Cheating bastard!"

Calibraxis: "Who the hell are you?" Nora: "Really? The dress doesn’t sell it?"

Nate: "I would have said ‘Zari, Zari, you smell like calamari’. … Bullying is bad."

Astra: "Nice sparkles." Nora: "Nice shoulderpads."

Ne-Ray: "We will make Earth Hell again." Subtle, show.

Mona: "Stay calm, they smell fear." Gary: "What if fear is my natural scent?"

Mick: "Give it back when you’re done. Buck and Garima’s sexual odyssey is far from over."

Zari: "Guys, I feel like that would have worked a little bit better with the real trinity." Sara: "Yeah, well, I asked and they said hard pass." Nate: "We should have done the crossover."

Vandal Savage: "Oh, I love those groovy guys."

Bits and Pieces:

-- It's a little hard to believe that all the magical creatures are down with behaving themselves now. Mike the Spike inside the puppet Stein was a serial killer, after all.

-- Also, is it just me or did the Legends just let all of the magical creatures just sort of wander off between the show and the dragon battle? Are we just not worried about them anymore?

-- It makes sense idiomatically in the US, but John Constantine wouldn't have phrased Nora using her fairy powers to get into the demon vault as 'poofing her way in.' That would mean something very different in the UK, and kind of implies that she'd somehow be getting into the vault through the magic of gay sex. Which is magical, sure, but not in a way that would be helpful in this situation. I don't know, maybe he was just going for an oblique 'fairy' joke.

-- It was fun seeing Vandal Savage and Ray bonding over Jenga, but again I kind of wonder if that wouldn't have been time better spent elsewhere.

-- It was a bad idea to bait and switch people into coming to Heyworld thinking it would be all about superheroes. I wish they'd handled that a little better.

-- Why did Mithra the dragon, who sadly never got to know the name Wixstable, turn back into a baby after eating Tabitha?

-- Nora and Gary now have the same kind of power symbiosis that Jax and Stein had, when you think about it.

-- I like them, I enjoy Wolfie, and I've enjoyed most of their plotlines this year, but it wouldn't break my heart if Mona and Gary had transferred to the Cleveland branch before the beginning of next season. We just have too many people. That's one of the reasons I believed they'd killed Nate.

-- We're all on the same page that only Mick, Sara, and Ray are non-negotiable members of the team, right? Like, I'd miss Nate, but I'd get over it.

-- How famous is Ray Palmer, exactly? Last year he was obscure enough to be working at Upswipes, and now he's working senate sub-committee hearings.

-- Lovely little cameo by The Monitor, just chilling back and eating popcorn at Heyworld.  That's a little less momentous than his other finale appearances, but it was a nice reminder that the Crisis is looming.  Also, it was funny.

Magical creatures?  Oh, I'm sure they'll be fine.

A big, sprawling season finale with lots of good bits and a little less focus and time to breath than it could have used. That kind of sums up season four as a whole, actually.

Three out of four James Taylor sing-a-longs.

And that brings us to the end of another Legends season. It's been a blast as always, see you all in the fall, when I hopefully will not have two other shows also running at the same time that the Waverider takes off.

Mikey Heinrich is, among other things, a freelance writer, volunteer firefighter, and roughly 78% water.

[cleverbroadwayurl]

Nobody Needs to Know (Jeremy Heere x Reader Pt 18)

Song: Nobody Needs to Know from The Last Five Years

Word Count: 5984

Need to Catch Up? PART 1 PART 2 PART 3 PART 4 PART 5 PART 6 PART 7 PART 8 PART 9 PART 10 PART 11 PART 12 PART 13 PART 14 PART 15 PART 16 PART 17 

Want More? PART 19

A/N: I did it! I’m not sure how, but I did it!! Yay!! Here’s Part 18, I hope everyone enjoys, I tried to add some cute moments! Let me know if you’re looking for the link to the Part 15 Supplement Can’t Help Falling in Love! 

Trigger Warnings: mentions of injuries, mentions of abuse, self depreciating, mentions of an abusive boyfriend, LET ME KNOW IF I MISSED SOMETHING ASAP 

Taglist: @catatonic-kuragin @be-more-heidi-hansen @retrogarden @scarsonthecuffsofyourjeans @bluhimaweirdo @stargirl-murphy (happy late birthday btw!!) 

Jeremy gave a laugh for the first time that night before following Michael out through the doors they had before, high fiving and smiling all the way to the cruiser that had sat innocently outside the emergency room for hours. Yeah, things were going to be just fine.

Jeremy sat in the gazebo, the same one that he’d been watching not so long ago while he was waiting for you on top of a blanket, supplies in the back of his car for anything and everything—except what had actually happened. You’d asked him there this time, promising to show up when you could, telling him that sometimes your follow up appointments went longer than they were scheduled. As much as he wanted to be calmer than the last time, he discovered that he couldn’t. The fears were there, this time the reality of danger and the events had been encrypted into his daydreams. His hands were sweaty perpetually, almost like every time he attempted to get rid of the moisture, it would just come back with full force, seemingly worse than it had been the last time. He also can’t stop from fidgeting, fingers hitting the white painted wooden bench in the gazebo to playing with the loose thread on his jeans, to just plain running his hands across one another. Maybe that’s how he’d realized the sweat being worse than normal.

He decides it would be a good idea to shift his focus to other things in the park. It would distract him from being worried about you, every minute that you could be late could be another hurtful thing that’s happening; unable to be controlled and unable to keep you safe like he’d promised to do so long ago. Jeremy notices a man jogging amidst the trees, briskly keeping his heartrate up and Jeremy is sure he can see a Fitbit on the guy’s wrist, marking time, keeping up, noting every little thing that the jogger is doing. He shifts his eyes somewhere else, quickly noticing a golden retriever running with its owner and playing fetch. He smiles at the dog, relaxing a little bit as they jump and bark at their owner, almost begging to throw the ball again. And as much as he loved watching the dog; as much as it calmed him down, he made a note to point it out to you when you got there. Jeremy knows how much you’d love the dog, he can practically see eyes shining and your smile wide as you talk about how adorable they are.

He’s early; but that’s what Jeremy wanted. Follow up appointments aren’t fun, and he knows that you’d probably been told to rest, that a lot happened, and in order to heal properly, you’d need some time just napping, sitting, and laying around for a bit. Even if you hadn’t been told to rest and to take some time for yourself, Jeremy would be the biggest advocate for it. He’d played Night in the Woods, knowing that Mae can’t even eat solid food when she first gets home. Sure, this was fact and not fiction, but it was better to rest for a long time than to hurt yourself more because you thought you were okay. And there’s a tugging at Jeremy, knowing that if you’re late, he’d understand completely. The last time he’d been left in the park wasn’t your fault, as much as you wanted to put the blame on yourself. But it wasn’t, and if he was honest, the only thing Jeremy wanted was to keep you safe and happy. If you bailed last second because you were just too weak? He’d understand and just go home, maybe facetime you later if you really wanted to talk.

That, and it’s a nice day. The golden hour was just beginning, light blues and bright yellow sunrays now turning golden with each passing minute in the warm summer evening. Jeremy smiles to himself—you were definitely going to point out that it was the golden hour and how much you loved everything completely basked in the light of day, summer nights being almost as beautiful as the mornings when you wake up by yourself and enjoy a cup of coffee while waiting for the rest of the world to awaken. It’s peaceful, almost tranquil in the morning, and frankly, at the park. Maybe warmer, maybe more humid, but the idea was there, summer grills just beginning to be fired up in the distance around the suburban area. He wipes his hands on his jeans again.

Jeremy pulls out his phone, checking the time. It’s still 5 minutes before the range of times you said you’d be there, but he decides to look at the text you’d sent again. It was evidence, something that was real. This time you’d asked him to the park to talk and spend time with good company. Or at least, he assumed you liked him, given all the time you’d spent together. His eyes dance over the text, heating racing at the thought of spending more time with you before leaving for college.

You: Hey! I was released yesterday and I was wondering if you wanted to hang out? I want to make things up, but if you don’t, I totally understand!

His heart does a flip as he locks his phone; back into his dark wash jean pocket it goes. Jeremy had decided to wear the same outfit Brooke had recommended before; it was easy, the clothes were recently washed, and he didn’t have to ask for more help. There was also the added fact that Brooke probably knew you’d been hospitalized and might want details that Jeremy can barely keep a secret from any wondering questions. It was easier this way. Keeping this meeting as secretive as he could might keep you safe for longer than it would if anyone except Michael, his dad, and honestly probably Mrs. and Mrs. Mell knew it.

A breeze passes through and the leaves shake a little bit, sun streaming through each leaf and making it glow, the clapping washing through the area. Jeremy eyes the spot he’d been waiting at for a second. He can practically see the blanket, almost reliving the heartbreak and hurt of that night. He can remember the panic of figuring out, the minutes wasted at Michael’s house, Brooke walking her dogs with Chloe, the lie about the sweater—that damn sweater. Jeremy physically shakes his head of those thoughts, closing his eyes as he does so, refocusing on the white painted wooden gazebo bench. You’re totally fine. He never realized the gazebo had a light inside of it, but now that he was seated inside of the beautiful shelter, it made sense why this was such a popular date spot. Not that this was a date, it was just something you’d suggested.

But should he have brought something for you? You did just get out of the hospital after some pretty serious stuff. Maybe he should’ve gotten you flowers or a small stuffed animal that can fit in your bag; just a reminder that he cares and is there for you. Then again, if either of those things were found, that might be another reason for you getting injured at the hands of the inhuman monster you were dating.

Jeremy can hear footsteps coming up the stairs, and his head whips around to see you, giving him a smile. He notices your hand gripping the railing and immediately rushes up to help. Stepping down two of the stairs, he offers his arm to lean against for extra support. You gladly take it, smiling as a small “thank you” slips from your lips. The two of you get to the top, but Jeremy can’t fathom letting go as you step across to the bench that Jeremy had been sitting at. Another breeze, more clapping and sunshine. When the two of you reach the bench, Jeremy helps you sit down, flashes of grimaces come across your face, clearly still in pain from the events that happened before.

Once you’re seated, Jeremy follows suit, giving you some space so that if you need to adjust at any moment, you’re able to. It’s now that Jeremy is reminded of just how badly things had gotten. You had been in the hospital for a week and a half, but you still needed help doing basic actions, and probably had to recover from any movement. If it was from anything, it was probably the ribcage that really did you in. Jeremy had heard of really terrible abdominal surgeries, how patients can’t move properly for a while afterwards. Maybe that’s why he was so inclined to help you. Well, that, and what kind of deranged animal wouldn’t help someone who needed it? A person appeared in Jeremy’s mind, one that you knew too well, before he dismissed the thought and refocused on you.

It was now that Jeremy realized his sweater was in your hand, probably from the bag that now sat next to you. The sun kept shining as you began to speak, smiling at him with that sweet smile he’d seen several times before, and yet always seemed to forget how it made it him feel until it appeared on your face once again. “Hey, thanks for meeting me on such a weird notice. I wanted to meet up before we like get too busy because, you know, college and stuff.”

“No problem,” a blush creeps over Jeremy’s cheeks. He can feel the moisture accumulate against his hands again—he’s nervous. He shouldn’t be nervous around you anymore. He inhales, ready to say more, but you get there faster than he does.

“How are you?”

Blinking fast, Jeremy is taken aback by your question. He thought for sure that you wouldn’t ask about him. Wasn’t this meeting supposed to be about…he actually wasn’t sure anymore. But he was sure that he just wanted to see you again; maybe that’s why he’d said yes to meeting up at the same heinous spot. He somehow manages to stutter out a response to you, “O-Oh? I’m good. Yeah, uhh, how are you?”

You nod, eyes shifting to the floor before smiling at him once again. “I’m okay. Better now that I’m actually out of my house and doing something fun. Not just, you know, follow up doctor’s appointments and how I’m not supposed to do x or y or z until whenever.”

There’s a second that Jeremy can feel his entire face light up, turning redder than it had in weeks, perhaps since you’d agreed to go stargazing with him. You had just admitting to having fun with him. You wanted to see him, and Jeremy was just…so smitten by that fact. He can feel his heart flutter similar to a butterfly, almost hitting the edge of his ribcage so hard that he was sure it would make an escape. “I’m glad,” is all he can manage to get out, especially when you’re looking at him like he’s the entire world.

“Yeah, me too.” You smile wider before your eyes shift around, breaking away from your own gaze as you scan the gazebo. Your eyes finally land onto the flooring of the structure before you half mumble out a “Kinda sick of white walls right now.” A grimace comes across your face and remains for a few seconds, almost like those phrases alone could cause food poisoning in the next breath.

Jeremy pauses and remains observing you, just for a few seconds before it dawns upon him that you’re doing what he had been before—partially reliving that same fateful night, flashes from the white hospital walls and whatever else you’d seen. He isn’t sure what the interior of your boyfriend’s house looks like, but given that his house also has white walls, there has to be an element of that as well as the same hospital room you were so used to seeing. It’s what many would call a flashback, but he knows sometimes that doesn’t feel like the right term. He can practically see you crumbling, getting upset by your own attempt at a joke; knowing how damaging that is, knowing how painful it is that you just managed to hurt yourself while trying to be better, trying to forget. There’s a moment that he waits, debating on what to do, before making a bold choice and placing his hand onto the space between you to, having it rest onto the bench, palm towards the stars that would be appearing in a few hours. That way, it’s a choice, without you having to say something—usually normal bodily functions aren’t an option in these moments of needing help in the most eccentric way.

You look at his hand out of the corner of your eye, Jeremy’s gaze softening as he realizes you’re contemplating doing it. If there’s something he wants to be for you, it’s comfort, safety, the idea that he’s soft and would never, and he means ever, hurt his significant other intentionally. Fuck, he wouldn’t even do that to his friends. He doesn’t realize he’s beginning to zone out until Jeremy feels your hand slip into his open one, a contract of trust being enforced with every passing second that physical contact is made. He can see the etchings of the bruise that had been there before slipping out from behind your light long sleeves. You’re still staring at a specific point, unaware that every ounce of light around you now seems to point to you, as if you were the most important star in every galaxy, any galaxy. His mind shifts through the things that had been said to him by Michael when he got like this after the SQUIP, memories, choices, things haunting him as your mind flashes through everything. It’s now that he decides that Michael’s sayings might not work right now. So he shifted to the things Christine used to tell him; things she’d looked up because she cared and wanted to help so much. He can recall a specific phrase she’d said, one that rang in his head louder than anything else; the most important one that had ever been said. He quietly, almost a whisper, sent the phrase out, hoping it would help: “Hey, it’s over now. It’s okay.”

There’s a moment that you process the information before nodding and moving your head back to him, every quickly following. Your back is still practically cemented to the wall of the gazebo. Your hand squeezes his before you let go of it, finally letting Jeremy get a full view of your face when it’s just resting. He can see the outlines of the bruise and marks you had, your attempt at hiding them with makeup, but chose not to say anything. It was better for the both of you to leave the topic alone. He could feel himself tense, however, at the bruises that still littered your neck, the marks of struggle, of oxygen deprivation still there, almost glaring at him from the depths of that night. You softly whisper a “sorry” into the air, almost masked by the gentle breeze that keeps making its way through the area.

“It’s okay. I can’t imagine how hard this has been.” Jeremy wasn’t lying. He actually didn’t know about everything you were going through. He had an idea, but he obviously didn’t have all the information.

“Thanks.”

There’s another pause, and the air finally settles around you two, sunrays more golden than before, almost making the scene around you two angelic. It was like good was streaming through the gazebo and the park, even though almost everyone in the time zone had the same golden hour experience. But they didn’t matter right now. Their moment in the gold wasn’t as important as this one between you and Jeremy. It’s now that Jeremy notices that the dog and their owner is long gone, the jogger probably home for dinner. It’s just you two, spending time together in the secluded area.

A vibration rings out into the air, and you immediately look over, tension now shooting through every muscle, no matter the pain. It’s involuntary, a reaction, a reflex at this point. You picked up you phone; it must’ve just been resting on the bench, and read the message to yourself, not saying anything. Jeremy assumed that it was your mom or your best friend, despite the tension that was definitely something you’d been trained to do. Yeah, it was probably your parents asking about where you were, when you’d be home, or your best friend asking about when you’d be available so that you two could see each other before the ever-looming departure to college. You look you’re your shoulder, a flinch, before scanning the area around the gazebo, Ford’s Park never looking so graceful. There’s a pause, a rest, before you lock your phone, not typing out a reply and setting it back beside you.

“Are you okay?” he asks, tempted to look around in the same manner you just did.

“Yeah, totally. Just uhh I have plans after this. My boyfriend wants to make things up to me. But you now, he said he wasn’t home so uhh I was just making sure he wasn’t around. I don’t want to put you in danger, especially when all you’ve done is be my friend when things got rough. You shouldn’t be punished for that.”

Jeremy freezes. The warmth that was once around him, and frankly in him from your presence, was gone. You just said boyfriend. Not ­ex-boyfriend. Meaning that you were still in a relationship with him, meaning you were still in danger, meaning that this meeting just got that much more crucial; you couldn’t be seen in public with him, or else who knows what would happen? It was just accusations last time, right? But if he saw this, what would that mean? And why hadn’t you left him in the safety of the hospital? Why hadn’t you—

Jeremy stops himself. He knows that’s victim blaming, how hurtful those thoughts are, how painful it is for someone you consider a friend to say that. Refocusing, he notices that the end of your sentence was about him being in danger. But what about you? His heart sunk. You put him above yourself; you don’t care about what happens to you, even while still injured and still needing help to walk a few feet and up any stairs. At this point, another beating, another session of abuse, could result in your death. Fuck, how long had it been since someone told you that you mattered? And not just because you were supposed to work as a therapist, parent, and partner to someone who didn’t deserve it? How long had it been since someone had shown you some kind of softness that didn’t come from the short sessions with him? Because to him, you deserved it constantly and consistently. You deserved to be happy in your skin, or with someone if you so chose to. Not whatever the fuck this dysfunctional thing was. You deserved—

“I know, Jeremy. I know it’s bad that we’re dating still. I want to break up with him, I just…don’t know how.”

Jeremy nods, still somewhat staring off into space before meeting your eyes. “That’s totally understandable.”

And it was. Things like this needed to be handled with care. His thoughts drifted off into how you could break up with him safely, but his mind kept getting blocked. He didn’t know a lot about this situation, he didn’t know a lot about your boyfriend. He just had the urge to keep you safe. Then again, what about your parents? Didn’t they know what happened? And your best friend? The ones who were there for you when you needed it?

“What’s up?” You interrupt his thoughts once more, Jeremy warping back into the tranquil park, still abandoned by everyone except you two. A minute of worry soars from you; and suddenly Jeremy knows how quiet he’s been. He knows what that must read to you. He takes a second to relax, telling himself that it probably wasn’t good to blame your friends and family. If anything, your best friend was probably in the same boat as Jeremy. It wasn’t fair to think these things about you or your lifestyle, especially that you’d just confessed that you wanted out. It’s not your fault, this whole time, nothing has been your fault, despite what you’ve been told. And that was another thing, your boyfriend probably lied to people, they probably thought you’d just fallen down the stairs or something that wasn’t his fault. A lie he could perpetually tell himself so that he could continue to live in a lie.

“I’m just thinking about this whole situation,” he finally responds.

“I know, I’m stupid for not doing it sooner and stuff, but fuck, Jeremy, you have to understand that it’s not always bad. Sometimes it looks like everything is going to go back to what it was when we first started dating. This, right now, is an upswing until I’m back to full health. You know, like full HP.”

Both of you chuckle at that last statement, ease seeping through the wide windows of the gazebo as the sun continues to set in the West. It’s easier to talk now, and Jeremy fully understands your coping mechanism—or at least to understand that jokes from you are to laughed at, encouraged, and that it was just you talking about feelings in that typical passive way. The chuckles break out into full-fledged laughter after a second, something about “unfortunately, this isn’t like Zelda, where I’m going to get extra hearts for beating a boss”. The laughter was the only thing to beat out the whispers of the breeze, making the gold not only coming from the sun, but from you as well. It dies down after a minute or two, and finally you settle back down. Jeremy now notices the flinch that comes with laughter now, and he quickly has an “Are you okay?” flying from his mouth.

“Yeah, Jeremy. I think some of my pain meds are wearing off, but I think this conversation is worth it. I haven’t laughed like that in like decades.”

There’s another second that Jeremy nods before he speaks up again, concern laced with his words. “I would offer advice, but I don’t know the entire situation as well as you do. Please be safe though, okay?”

“Jeremy, you don’t need to worry about me. You should focus on you for a bit. I mean, we’re going off to college soon.” Your eyes set into the distance, almost fixed on one specific branch of a tree just outside of the gazebo. It’s similar to the one he’d seen a few minutes ago, but less intense. It’s more a deep in thought stare, rather than a mental health endangering gaze. But still, Jeremy can sense something is off.

“You okay?”

It’s soft and quiet, but he can see your hands tensing and clenching together, jaw remaining stoic. “Hmm?” you recover after a few seconds, unclasping your hands. “Oh, uhh yeah. Just thinking too much.”

The air settles as Jeremy’s mind turns its gears; he’s definitely heard that before. It only takes a few seconds before it pinpoints the exact reference. “Did you get that from Kate Marsh? Life is Strange, episode 1?”

“Shit, Jeremy, maybe you know me too well.”

You two laugh again, and even though yours is a little strained, the moment is almost perfect. This is what that night a week and a half ago should’ve been. Soft blushes, laughing at jokes that only you two understand, light hearts, light minds, and absolutely no worries. The added element of the stars would’ve made this moment absolutely marvelous, but the golden light turning pink would do; it was absolutely better than nothing, playing video games in Michael’s basement while worrying about your well being as Michael kicked his ass at Mario Kart again. But this? Yeah, he wouldn’t trade this time, this moment, for anything in the world. The laughter doesn’t continue for much longer, dying down into nothingness. The sun continues to set, almost making you look radiant. Jeremy’s heart skips a beat before he continues the conversation.

“What were you thinking so hard about?”

You almost flinch at the question, your own thoughts, anything that was happening in your brain before. Wiping your hands on your pants, much like Jeremy does, you begin to fidget, words coming shakily and oddly out of your mouth. “I don’t know. Just like I’ve lost a lot of friends and I don’t want to lose you. I think you deserve some stress-free alone time.”

Jeremy’s heart sinks. He offers up his hand once again, in the same manner as before, knowing that holding hands is grounding and helpful to him; he’s sure it’s helpful to you. He can see the hurt, the things he’d seen before, both in himself and in you from the past few minutes, past few months, but this time there’s an element that isn’t there before. You were alone. You were isolated. And most importantly, you thought that you were a burden to everyone, including your friends. This is exactly what your boyfriend wanted. He wanted you to not have a lifeline so that this could go on for years. Just like the SQUIP had done to Jeremy with Michael and with his dad. But Jeremy considered himself pretty smart. He knew the tactics, and knew that no matter what, no matter how hard your boyfriend tried, Jeremy would still call himself your friend. He’d been in the same situation and was still grateful to Michael. This was his chance to return the favor. He saw himself in you, saw that you needed someone, and Jeremy was more than happy to be that someone.

Throughout the thoughts, Jeremy’s hand must’ve relaxed, it folding in like a dead spider in the middle of winter. And the only way he knew that was because you grabbed your hand in his, squeezing it tightly, almost awakening him from a daydream of essentially being your hero; the protagonist that maybe doesn’t get the love interest but helps them get out of their crappy situation. He can feel your eyes on him, waiting for him to say something, anything. The desperation slipped through your gaze and oozed into Jeremy’s life.

But he doesn’t really have anything to say. Instead, he meets the gaze, mustering up all of the softness in his heart—which, was a lot while hanging out with you, at any given moment. He can feel himself change with every millisecond that you two are observing each other, hands perfectly intertwined. He squeezes back, and see the corners of your mouth turn upwards, pink making it’s way into your cheeks like pink had made its way through the sky, the golden hour slowly fading away. The rest of the world fades away, everything except the gazebo untouchable, you two unable to be disturbed in this beautiful moment, soft breezes keeping the temperature at almost a near perfect.

You sigh, shoulders relaxing as you keep your eyes stuck on him, love—platonic or not—steeping in the twilight. You inhale a little bit before something leaves your lips, a truth that had been always an undertone finally becoming an overtone. “Shit, I need to leave him, huh?”

Jeremy just nods, his thumb gently gliding across your hand, forming patterns, circles, and calming figures.

“How am I gonna do that? I’m sorry for like, talking about it. It just hits me sometimes.” Your eyes had broken the moment by now, again staring unambitiously at the world around you.

“You know him better than I do, but if you need my help, I’m prepared to do anything to offer it.

You nod before smiling at Jeremy once again. This time, you use your other hand to prop yourself up, turning yourself towards him. He wordlessly offers his other hand to help you, but you wave it away, almost creating a secret language between the two of you, enjoying the silence, the little stress of the moment. Another minute passes, and there’s an urge that soars in Jeremy’s chest. He knows it’s a bad urge, it’s something that should be suppressed, but he can see the same thing in you. There’s a second, a confirmation, before both of you begin to lean in, your other hand working as a kickstand while Jeremy squeezes your hand, slowly almost pulling you into him, into comfort, into something you both seemed to want. You smile widely as he follows your actions, excitement bubbling up and out of him as chuckles leave both of your mouths. It’s almost awkward, but it isn’t. The laughter makes it better, ringing out the rush of leaning in to kiss someone you like spending time with, someone you’d do anything for, someone who makes your life better, someone who keeps you grounded in every small and large gesture. The laughter rings out and circles around you two, finally getting close enough where Jeremy is about to speak, about to make sure this is okay, that you’re as comfortable as he is, that you want this as much as he does. He can see your hand out of the corner of his eye, a constant reminder to be gentle; you’re still injured, maybe you’d need his help once you two finally get to the end goal of this urge. Inhale. He opens his mouth for a second, ready to ask that one necessary question—

When your phone vibrates instead. He continues to hold you hand as you check your phone, both of you already knowing who the text is from, both of you knowing that this meeting is officially probably over. You sigh and lock your phone, still no reply coming from you. There’s a second that you squeeze his hand extra hard before you say something maybe not so surprising to him. “I wish I could stay here forever.”

“Yeah. Me too.”

You stop for a second before looking back at Jeremy, “Do you think I could cancel, or would that be shitty of me?”

Jeremy contemplates the choices. Cancelling like this could be dangerous, no matter how good the upswing. As much as he wants to spend the night with you, holding you and keeping you safe for sure, making sure you’re getting rest, fluids, and following every doctor’s orders, you need to be there. For your safety. “As much as I want to stay here with you, maybe?”

“Yeah, I guess,” you give a sad smile before continuing, “So, I should go. I mean, I’m supposed to be there now, but I don’t know, I lose track of time talking to you, I guess.”

He nods, unsure of how exactly to respond to that, before you give a little smile at him, this one brighter, genuine, the one he craves even in the deepest sleep. You let go of his hand, grabbing your bag and slinging it over yourself carefully. Your hand grabs his blue sweater, and you give it to him, folded nicely. Jeremy can’t help but put it on, it smells like you, brings sweet reminders of all-too-good moments that you no less than deserved. You blush, and he returns it, wordlessly telling each other how important that one article of clothing is. Placing your hands beside yourself, you get ready to stand up and be on your way.

Making a bold choice, Jeremy decides to help you up, standing before you with his arms stretched out, blue sweater reaching his wrists perfectly, delicately. You grab his hands, and he acts as a stabilizer, tugging you up as well as out of the seat. There’s a moment of equilibrium before you almost crash into him. He moves his hands by instinct so they wrap around you, holding you up against him, giggles coming from both of you as the action is done. The both of you get stable after a second, the giggles fading as you two realize your faces are inches apart from one another.

Jeremy looks at you, making sure you’re okay; you’re not usually this quiet. What he sees etched into your features is a look he hasn’t seen before. It’s like your committing every aspect of this moment to memory, every curve of his face, the way he blushes (which he was sure he was doing), the way that the conversation went, every noise, every time the clapping leaves made themselves known, the depleting of the golden hour, every hue that is basked around you two, every little thing about every little moment—even the one that was fading away. At least, that’s what Jeremy can assume you’re doing; that’s what he’s doing. But this look is something new, newer light inside of you making itself known like in a Pre-Raphaelite painting, eyes looking directly at him rather than somewhere in the distance. The best word he could come up with to describe the way you’re looking at him was wonder. You’re looking at him in wonder, almost like he’s everything. But that was a lie. You were everything; feeling himself looking at you in the same manner.

He can feel you inhale, body still somewhat against his as he helps you stay afloat. Your lips barely part, a simple request making its way into reality. “Jeremy, can I kiss your cheek?”

“Uhh…what?” Jeremy asks, still processing everything, still encrypting everything into memory. He finally catches up, face flushing red, “Oh uhh yeah.”

You smile at him, and he can feel that smile imprint onto his face, soft lips set his whole body aflame, passion keeping his face completely red, your touch still lingering on his cheek. You pull away and readjust so you’re just holding both of his hands like you once had. You begin to walk towards the steps, hands slipping out so you can grab the railing and make your way away. You aren’t that far away, maybe a foot if he was generous with scaling, before he catches himself, mind reeling still from the simple gesture you’d given him. “Wait,” he starts, before his brain finally catches up. “Can I kiss your forehead?”

Smiling, you nod and give a little “Yeah, of course.” His face breaks out into a wide smile; stepping closer to you and making sure that both of you are stable before he presses his smile against your forehead, giving a soft kiss to it as he can practically hear your smile as he pulls away. Everything is still for a split second before reality hits both of you once again, twilight quickly turning into night.

“I have to go.” Jeremy can hear the sadness in your voice as you rearrange once again, this time to walk down the stairs. Your gaze returns to what it once was, eyes almost glass as you look into the distance.

You two descended the three steps, you leaning against Jeremy the entire time. The moment you two reach the bottom, your arm extends as you walk away, hand slipping away from his in an almost sinisterly slow way. The touch is gone, the moments deceased to memory, as you stepped off, away, and back to your car that must have parked in a spot close enough that you didn’t need help walking back. It probably wouldn��t look great either if he was helping you that much, knowing that you were already late and if someone reported to your boyfriend that you were in his arms that would be just as bad as cancelling on him last second.

He watches you walk away, off into the distance before realizing how creepy that probably is. Jeremy grabs his keys from his pocket, phone still situated where it had been before. He walks carefully back to his car, hoping, wishing, that this is the last date you’ll ever be on with your boyfriend. 

[iphoenixrising]

For 600 Followers: The Surgeon, The Captain, and the Soldier

From the Dr!Tim Universe: civilian!Tony, Captain America!Steve, and Winter!Bucky Barnes. Mr_Flamingo said he would read the shit out of this. Welp, there you go.

Dr. Stark is a busy, busy man. Even without the weight of Stark Industries on his back (thank-you Miss Potts), he still runs from one emergency to the next.

This one just happens to be to The Captain America.

Which is so Classified even the top level brass don’t know the guy’s real name. Probably because his files have been sealed longer than most of them have been alive, which is just grand. If there’s anything Dr. Stark likes, it’s a challenge.

When Nick Fury of S.H.I.E.L.D came to him because honestly, he the best surgeon they’re going to get in this half of the hemisphere anyway, Tony tried to throw him out for approximately twelve seconds–

Until the file was tossed over his desk and a picture flops out pretty much in his lap.

And that picture is of a beautiful man.

With a star on his chest.

“I don’t put Cosplayers over people with real problems, Nick.”

“Stark, when I say he’s the real deal, that’s what I motherfucking mean.”

Mmhm. And he graduated from Med School yesterday. “Captain America has been dead for only seventy years, give or take. Looks spry for his age, good for him. I bet he’s Osteo’s wet dream, right?” Because he really does enjoy having witty banter with his rejections.

That’s when Nick Fury leaned over his desk, “you’re the only civilian the Black Widow has ever let work on her, and you think I’m bringing you someone in a costume?”

Some of the incredulous is creeping out of this exchange with the way Fury’s remaining eye is focused. “Seventy years? Nick, that’s–” but when Nick hasn’t moved a muscle, hasn’t blinked, probably hasn’t so much as inhaled.

That’s when the possibility becomes reality.

“Holy shit.” Tony’s eyes blow wide and the run-of-the-mill play date in the lab to make something to help with those pesky arteriovenous malformations is right on the backburner. “You’re kidding me.”

“Would I be here if I was kidding, Stark? He is the real World War II veteran. You save his life and I will give you what we have on a certain reason he survived.”

Dr. Stark stares for approximately thirty seconds, judging. The next instant he’s in his sharp coat and red shades, riding to DC in an Apache helicopter.

(Once upon a time, he would have told the engineers how he could make it better, but since his Dad died, he didn’t have to build for SI anymore. He could build for his passion and not feel one fucking bit bad about it.)

Forty-five minutes and he’s scrubbing in, the situation crucial. Agent gave him the run-down without giving him any real information on how this happened. He got a glance at scans of the cranial fracture and hemorrhaging. Shards of skull had been embedded in the grey matter (which makes no sense how he survived this long except as another shred of proof he’s the real deal. Captain Fucking America… his inner fanboy is screaming behind his calm, cool, surgeon demeanor.)

The team S.H.I.E.L.D gave him for the procedure are obviously all military, and in such need of a good laugh. Dr. Stark is sure they’re under order to watch every twitch of his fingers just in case he’s going to try making Captain America a drooling moron or something while poking around in his brain. So, he has to pull out the old SI CEO song and dance, being an unrepentant witty smart ass and talk fast before any of the sternly gowned agents can threaten him with horrible dismemberment if anything should happen to their delicate snowflake.

He gets the one called Barton to crack a smile while they’re scrubbing up, and it’s all going to be fine.

All is right with the world, except when he comes into the nice, sterile OR–

Where he finds the patient awake.

“Hey there, big guy,” he pats the shoulder of the utterly stunning blonde (who is apparently as old as his great-grandpa and has abs for miles), “we probably shouldn’t be meeting this way, considering you’re apparently the biggest secret in the Modern World, next to Big Foot sightings and the what is that gross ring around the tub really made of debate, but still, it’s nice to make your acquaintance. I’m Dr. Stark, and I’ll be your surgeon for the evening. Let me guess, gurney for one?”

He’s talking but checking machines, supplies, and sliding the special eyewear, taking the opportunity to review the site opened at the scalp to show the skull fracture at the side of Captain America’s head. While he watches, the skin is trying to heal around the clamps and a nurse apparently familiar with the Captain’s rate of healing is constantly re-adjusted to keep the wound open enough for surgery.

(The impact should have killed him. How did it not kill him? “Time is of the essence, Dr. Stark. You need to pull the bone fragments while he can keep his skull from healing over it.” Christ, Agent Tight-Ass, full work-up next time for Project Super Soldier Sandwich.)

“Hm…” slurred from behind the oxygen mask, and if Dr. Stark wasn’t one hundred percent invested on making sure he had everything he would need to fix the oddly not healing bleeder in the Captain’s temporal lobe (with things like Wernicke's aphasia hovering in the background), he would have shuddered. “Got that reference, Doc. S’funny.”

Watching the electroencephalography to monitor the Captain’s brain activity, Tony glances over as S.H.I.E.L.D’s people start filtering in around him and the ones with guns watch him closely through the observation windows.

“Never doubted you for a second, Captain. Guy that punched Hitler should be right above a Yeti in my opinion. Anyhoo,” and Tony, gowned, gloved, and masked, comes around to look at the very, very blue eyes and hold a hand close to the Captain’s blonde eyebrows to check the dilation. “The nice esthetician over there is going to hit you up with something to make you very, very sleepy so I can fix that terrible headache you’re probably having right now.”

And Captain America looks up at him from under those lashes, quirks a small shit-eating grin, “ssorry, Doc Stark. Knockouts...won’t work on me. S’ ‘causea the Serum. Gonna be awake no matter how much they gimmie.”

Blinking with his heart in his throat because he can’t imagine the pain the Captain must be in right about now, Tony gets himself back with, “oh? Then I have your witty repartee to look forward to while I work, don’t I Captain?”

“SSteve, Doc. I’m SSteve.”

“Nice to meet you, Steve. I’m Tony, and I’m going to save your life.”

“Soundss like ya gotta plan, Tony.”

And when the slightly familiar red-headed nurse gives him the thumbs up and it’s time to start, he has to step back around to the site being kept open for him.

“I always have a plan, Steve. Fortunately for you, part of my plan involves great music and nice conversations while we discuss your vitals.”

AC/DC starts in with a little Back in Black. And since he is who he is, him mouth moves on autopilot while he works with a delicate touch, fast and efficient, getting side-tracked from his running monologue with Captain Awake and Alert and Answering to accept vitals and updates from the other staff.

It’s been hours, and he’s on up-to-date knock-knock jokes.

They’ve run the gambit of must-see movies (and no he doesn’t see Agent Tight-Ass writing down the ones Steve asks about in detail because yes, he should see Firefly. Alien cowboys, Captain. Alien cowboys), and spent so much time on just the 60’s.

He’s gotten some stories that are absolutely hilarious (because Steve was so curious about the most oddball shit, ATMs, Fitbits, Twitter…) and is closing the wound in Steve’s scalp before he realizes he’s...done.

“Feels so much better, Tony, thank-you.”

“Hey, glad I was in the neighborhood. You’re quite the conversationalist when I’m poking around in your brain.”

“Could say the same. Thought ya might re-wire me to do something silly. Bark like a dog when someone says bell or something.”

And the staff is cleaning up around them, giving Tony the space to ease down just a notch, and wink, “sorry Captain, something I save for the bedroom, not the operating room.”

The sparkle that lights in Steve’s eyes–

–is really his undoing.

**

Riding the high of saving Captain America’s life got him all the way home and to his bed, still churning over the events of the surgery. Butterfinger and U were happy Daddy made it home in one piece (he’d kept the failed surgical bots, unable to decommission his first attempts at independent AI just because they’d rather play fetch than learn procedures...besides, they’re his creations and with their capacity to learn, they’re still evolving), and absolutely pampered him with coffee while he told them about why he was so late.

Butterfingers booped and patted his knee lightly while U rolled back and forth in excitement. Their favorite part was about the Apache, of course. His children were Philistines (but what would he do without them?).

Waking up at one am to Agent Tight-Ass leaning against the bureau in his bedroom was probably the fright of his life.

(Probably not, but no one needs to know that. Few people knew about his kidnapping in Afghanistan from a Medical Conference five years ago.)

“The Captain won’t let another doctor examine him.” Agent Tight-Ass said without even a hello or the decor is nice. “He’s asking for you.”

Tony completely blames it on sleep deprivation when he almost says my Captain? but shakes himself out of it at the last second.

The implications of Agent being here strikes him in the very next second and he’s throwing the covers off and climbing out of bed fast. A clean pair of purple scrubs and Agent knows he goes commando under his expensive and stylish pj pants. “Post-Op complications?” The litany of problems Steve could be experiencing after such a difficult and delicate surgery flash through Tony’s frontal lobe, a slideshow of problems he should have been able to catch before anyone else.

(They shouldn’t have made me leave him. He needs to be under close observation.)

“No. But, S.H.I.E.L.D needs to verify the Captain is physically fit for duty. He won’t let another physician check him out. We’d like you to come back to DC just to make sure.”

And, well, he’s Tony Stark, so he tries to play it off in front of Agent just to be a pain in the ass to deal with, but even before he’s had a single cup of coffee, Tony is riding in another Apache with his leg bouncing in anticipation.

He’s thrown a Henley on under his scrub top, cuffs up to his elbows and probably looking like a derelict resident, but dammit, at least he has good hair.

The damn corridors are long and Agent Tight-Ass is silently striding beside him while Tony desperately holds a cup of coffee in one hand and the Captain’s chart in the other, taking in every detail and plotting out all the worst case scenarios.  What he absolutely doesn’t expect is to see the gorgeous man in dark jeans, red t-shirt, terrible trucker hat, and a single black-gloved hand standing against the wall like he’s the only thing holding the building up. Tony manages to keep his tongue in his mouth when Agent Tight-Ass stops to introduce them.

“Sergeant Barnes, this is Dr. Stark, the Captain’s neurosurgeon.”

And those eyes are like winter, grey and cool, taking him in from dirty sneakers to the half-curl just above his temple. It’s terribly frightening and arousing at the same moment and Tony is absolutely, completely out of his depth in hot men.

(And in-between relationships, isn’t he? Why are the Gods so damn cruel?)

“Very nice to meet you, Sergeant. I understand you’re an unapologetic smart-ass that can kill pretty much anything a mile away and make the worst borscht known to man. Pleasure is all mine, really. Borscht is already terrible, but making is worse? That has to take substantial talent.”

What he doesn’t expect is the tall, intimidating brunette with the sexiest stubbled jaw to blink down at him, head cocking sideways like an inquisitive cat, “s’at so?  I think the pleasure is all mine, Doll. After all, Stevie ain’t quit talkin’ ya up all night. ‘Preciate ya taking good care a’ him fer me.”

Ah. Barnes. James Buchanan Barnes. Always thought those stories were exaggerated.

Tony absolutely does not, does not (think about them together), lick his bottom lip while staring up into those eyes. “Anything I can do for the red, white, and blue, Sergeant Barnes. Just showing my...patriotism.”

Tony grins wide when he gets the Sergeant to laugh out loud, ruining his intense I will murder you vibe.

“Speaking of the Captain,” Agent Tight-Ass interrupts smoothly.

Both of them give the agent waiting with a patient, pleasantly neutral expression, and when Tony looks back, he can see the tension in James Barnes, and lets himself be his usual kind of confident.

“Honestly, I’m going to take good care of him. If the slightest thing deviates from absolutely normal, you will be the first person to know.”

“Thanks, Doll. Good t’ know he’s in the best hands,” and the gloved one squeezes his bicep, right above his elbow (and he is completely imagining that hand has absolutely no give whatsoever) before he turns to where Agent is holding the door open.

The Captain is awake at this ungodly hour and apparently more chipper when he wasn’t in horrible distress from bleeding all up in his grey matter. It was really nice to see this side and observe his handiwork, amazed the staples had already worked themselves out and there wasn’t even a scar to show surgery had ever taken place.

(Steve’s hair is soft and unfairly naturally fluffy. Tony’s bare fingers are threaded in it while his thumbs press lightly over the surgical site to test the healing and be fucking amazed.)

Sergeant Barnes is there for the examination, back in a corner, with that sensual bad boy thing going on, arms crossed over his chest, eyes sweeping the room every few minutes (like he wouldn’t notice?).

And once he checks the normal vitals and signs, looks for all abnormalities, any hint of a complication, Tony Stark–

–lies through his teeth.

“You need at least a week of rest. No strenuous activity at all. No punching Nazis, jumping out of planes, or potentially dangerous anything. Watch terrible daytime TV, eat your weight in bad food, and take it easy. The possibility for complications, or of re-opening the bleed site is high, even for a Super Soldier. Normal downtime would be months, I’m giving you a week. No arguments Captain.”

He turns to look at the Sergeant over his shoulder and they exchange a nod, but he sees James Barnes rolling his lips down like he’s trying not to smile.

“A week? A whole week?” The Captain honest-to-God whines, looking up at him, sitting up with perfect posture that makes his chest thrust out in such a distracting way.

(Those eyes should really be illegal.)

“Absolutely. I’m saying only a week, okay? That is very, very good news for you. From the scans taken less than an hour ago, you’re healing quickly and well. Still, we’re not going to take anything to chance.”

He grins down, completely confident he’s giving Steve the chance to get out in the world more, maybe get out from under all the Agent-Agents around here.

It’s all too soon he’s being ushered out the room and back to his Penthouse in New York, his heart thundering in his chest. The last twenty-four hours seem like some kind of dream, some kind of forbidden fantasy, something he couldn’t have really done, and being set back at his place with his bots and his lab, his nice office in Stark Medical waiting for him tomorrow, with endless calls from Pepper about the Board really wanting him present for the Quarterly Meeting this time, all of reality lays so heavy on him that he thinks maybe Agent Tight-Ass messed with his memories somehow so he’d never be able to tell anyone why S.H.I.E.L.D really wanted him in the first place.

He goes back to bed for an hour of sleep, thinking about Sergeant Barnes’ hand and Captain Roger’s eyes.

Dodging Pepper’s calls the next day between consults, residents, trips to the robotics, and some time spent in the lab, he’s in his office for a whopping fifteen minutes when his secretary knocks on his door.

“I’m sorry Dr. Stark, but they said they know you and he’s your patient–”

When Captain America and Bucky Barnes appear over her shoulder, looking a devilish mix of sheepish (Steve) and smary as hell (of course, the crackshot), Tony wonders how much effort it would take to clear his schedule completely–

–for the next seven days.

[typingtess]

A couple of thoughts on the shows I watched this week

Last Sunday, God Friended Me grew the family last week with Malik Yoba showing up as Miles's uncle.  Great addition.  Same thoughts about Cara's ex-boyfriend who seems to be a worthy guy.  The case of the week – which almost didn't happen because Miles initially said no – was strong.  It was similar to Miles's own story with his Mom but not quite the same.  One complaint – Ali's bar is in Alphabet City, not far from my apartment.  They need to stop saying they'll go "down" to their father's church.  Up – Arthur's church is uptown and honestly, in a show about God, "up" is a good word for a church, a soup kitchen and a group of people doing good work.

Much better Magnum PI this week.  The old show had a few 1940's-style noir mysteries every season with a weathly man looking for someone and hiring Magnum.  This episode was just like those with some clever twists.  A little more growth on the Higgins character is always a good thing too.  Nice to see Ben Vereen.

Spent some quality time the first time I saw Marissa's new/old husband on Bull trying to remember when I knew him from – the beard threw me off.  It is NCIS: Los Angeles's super a-hole FBI agent Jonas Ambrose.  Knew he looked familiar!  Anyway, really strong episode here.  Hope new/old husband Greg works out for Marissa, who deserves far better than Dr. Bull.  The only problem with the episode was actually the bad guy.  The minute anyone mentions a Fitbit-type item, that's how the crime is going to be solved.

NCIS had McGee being mean to Jimmy.  Geek-on-geek crime.  Average case of the week after a really sold episode on the 23rd.

Really good FBI episode.  Liked the interaction between Maggie and Dana about giving the family of a missing child some hope - disagreeing without it being an issue in the episode.  Interesting case of the week.  The program is really off to a solid start.

NCIS: New Orleans added Geoffrey Owens in what could be a semi-regular role as Commander Calvin Atkins, MD.  Well done show.  Good Halloween-ish episode that spiraled out of control near the end.  

Here's a stunner, Criminal Minds had Matthew Gray Gubler direct the Halloween episode.  Liked the JJ flashbacks.  As soon as the guy I remember as OLTL’s Kevin Buchanan showed up as an old acquaintance of JJ's while she was working through her past issues – the bad guy was likely set.

Thought Peter Gallagher was so over the top on Murphy Brown that it took away from what could have been a compare/contrast between Murphy's CNC and Avery's Wolf Network.  Did like Pat coming into his own during the election coverage.

Caught up on the last two MacGyver episodes.  Last week's episode was perfectly MacGyver - action, cool ways to save themselves.  Everything being great with Mac's Dad doesn't work since that means 20-plus years of being abandoned by Daddy after Mom died was really glossed over.  Speaking of glossed over, poor Jill and her murder was mentioned once in what was other a "look at these wacky badguys" episode Friday night.  Once again, the romantic partner of a male lead on a CBS series was kidnapped by the big bad and put in a room where she could be fridged.  Unlike poor Michelle Hanna, Nasha here survived but Murdoc made it clear there won't be a happy ending for Mac.  Feh.   Oh, and I sort of hoped that Jill was really alive – badly hurt but her death was put out there to throw off Murdoc.  No.  Jill was killed for no other reason but to make Mac sad and return to work.  Double feh.

[spellbounding-slytherin]

Life of Admin: New Years Resolutions

Well guys. Four days into 2019 and I am pleased to say, its been going really well. I have had so much shit on my chest towrds the end of 2018 and I was feeling a little depressed. Alot of my active watchers may remember a kind of self-deprecating post I made about being in a manipulative relationship with a guy i really like.

Well guess what bitch

That boys ass got left back in 2018.

I am a caring soul, and if someone comes to me with a problem, I am more than willing to help. But the way he was using his situation to take advantage of me just made me feel dirty and pathetic. For someone who was making all these claims about wanting to die, he sure did enjoy the power he had over me.

Now I am a girl who has faults, i am human. When I want to be in a relationship, I need someone who is stable, someone who is grounded. This guy was none of that. A whiney ass mother fucker who just wanted a shoulder to cry on with the occasional fuck.

Look, i get it. But im a girl with standards for her partners. I dont say that to try and sound bitchy or whatever. I say that as a person who is still questioning their sexuality, a person who has experienced abuse in past relationships, and a person who has their own mental conditions to deal with.

With that out of the way, lets talk about my resolutions.

I got a haircut appointment next week and my 22 inches of hair are gonna go.

I want to look at my mental conditions more positively and make a real effort to mature. I want to be a more pleasant person, and less of a hermit.

These past couple of days I have been really interactive with my family (who i usually avoid) and I think it is safe to stay that i actually missed having a relationship with them. Along with being around my family I have been helping out around the house more. Helping to clean up, doing chores, cleaning up the christmas decorations. Its on my schedule for this weekend to clean out my room and get things nice and tidy for the new year.

I was also gifted a fitbit for christmas! Im not super conciousness about my weight, nor am i over weight or anything. My doctor said that i am in a good position given my height and age. However I should become more mindful of my diet as get I get older. So it is on my resolutions list to loose around 15 pounds. I am in a weight category where I can loose that weight and still be at a healthy number. So everyday so far I have set aside at least an 30 minutes to do some strength training, and an hour to walk my dogs! They sure have been appreciative of it, so thats a nice bonus.

I want to have a stronger more self preservation additude (I am a slytherin afterall ) while being nicer. Like I said i need to have a stronger additude going inti the new year. I need to value myself more. The job I will be starting soon will force me to interact with people regularly, so it will be a good way to help me get over my anxiety.

So, all and all, ya girl is ready for the new year. The old sad little shell I was before, has been fully shed. From the ashes I rise to live up to my full potential. Look out 2019, cus here comes Vira!