#do we need to talk about my ao3 posting history only being things for exchanges? no that’s what the title of my google doc is for

[crossbackpoke-check]

a game of approximation

luka dončić/miro heiskanen :: 2k :: part of There’s Only One You

It's a trick shot, really. An illusion to create space. That’s what falling in love with Miro feels like: a fadeaway, graceful exit, a swan dive backwards into nothing but a swoosh, the sound of Luka’s text sending and then him turning and running back the other way.

[wanderingaldecaldo]

An open letter to the Cyberpunk fandom in general, and a few people in particular

It’s time to clear the air, and I want to take responsibility where appropriate.

Before we get into the recent drama, a history lesson is in order, both for the newer people in fandom and for those who have been around and just haven’t heard things from my side. This might be long with all the linked posts, so buckle up.

I don’t talk much to people about my experiences in fandom for several reasons — first, I don’t like to talk about others with people I don’t know; gossiping with friends is one thing, but otherwise it’s an undesirable trait. Because I’m human and fallible and absolutely capable of failing to meet my own standards, I have violated that rule, and it rarely does anything good. Second, even when I do share, people don’t tend to believe me because the responsible party, PinkyDude (PKD), has been “so nice” to them. “Surely there was a misunderstanding” is the most common response. 

No, there’s been no misunderstanding. He has harassed me repeatedly, both directly and indirectly, and has deleted most of the posts he’s made or reblogged from his friends/mutuals/followers that would serve as proof of this harassment. I could dig up old screenshots that people sent or I saved myself after being told of a post’s existence, but honestly I don’t want to go through that dreck again; my mental health is worth more to me than that. Instead I’ll present in my own words what happened to me over the last three years. I have spoken publicly about him three times before now — four if you count my response to the anon, which never referenced him or his ship. All of those posts are still visible and will be linked. I told you this would be a long read, but you need the context.

I joined Tumblr in spring/early 2021, back when I only wrote fic and played on console. PKD blocked me the first time I posted my fic, as is his right. As I was new to Tumblr, I didn’t understand the Tumblr app was actually telling me I was blocked whenever I clicked on the links on Discord, so I thought it was just bad software. Spoiler: it’s still bad software (affectionate). When I found out I was blocked, I was upset; I didn’t know about RSD at the time. I sent one anon asking why he blocked people; I was just a lowly AO3 author and he was the big, popular modder, and I was baffled and very upset and should have closed the browser, to be honest. He answered and explained why he blocked people (totally valid!! I will continue to emphasize that!) and shared how blocked people could still view his blog in a number of ways. Honestly, it was too much work for me to go through all of those steps, so I moved on with my life.

Not long after, he did unblock me for a few weeks and posted how someone had shown him how to filter posts. He messaged me to tell me I was unblocked, and we exchanged a few courteous messages. I believe I asked if it would be okay if I followed him. I know he expressed concern about me feeling discomfort at his ship. I don’t remember my exact response but I said I thought they were cute. That was the whole point of me joining fandom — I want to share love for blorbos! Things were civil, as far as I knew, though based on his comments later, it seems he and I had two completely different experiences. Where I believed I was polite and tried to be respectful to someone who had established boundaries, he accused me of being spiteful and vengeful. Soon after I started taking my own VP (with Mitch) he blocked me again. He sent a message to apologize that he needed to do it, and made a vague post that was directed to me, I assume, as it was something like “Sorry I tried” or whatever, and I moved on with my life, or tried. I still saw his Mitch pics in Discord servers when people shared them, though I saw fewer that were just Mitch alone.

The first time I spoke about PKD was Fall 2021, during the “not PKD approved” debacle, where someone (a follower of his! Not my follower! I cannot stress that enough!) reblogged a gif of Val and Mitch with the tag “not PKD approved.” I shared a screenshot with friends because, uh, that’s what you do, right? That’s what anyone would do — share a screenshot of an offensive tag with friends. One of those friends, a writer who had published Mitch/V on AO3 and also received anon hate on their Mitch fics, thought it was funny and used it for their Discord status. Someone shared that status with PKD, and he made vague accusations about who started the hashtag. 

I publicly defended a person who thought they were being accused, a friend at the time, and made the only statement about him that I regret and would take back — I commented on his propensity for reblogging posts that emphasize having the right to block people. I shouldn’t have said that, it wasn’t appropriate, and I apologize. Of course everyone has the right to block people for whatever reason they want. I disagree with what I said then and retract it now. 

Back to how I was targeted... Remember that it was my post that someone tagged with another person’s name; another person who had me blocked because of their jealousy about seeing anyone else with Mitch. I never named the person who tagged my post, yet I was deemed the perpetrator. Many months later, Zwei DMed me when we shared a small server to offer the most non-apology apology ever for telling people that I started the hashtag. Thanks, Zwei! Almost makes up for the other lies you told about me!

The second time was my response to the anon I got trying to “educate” me after the Pawel stream. I never referenced PKD or his ship. We’ll come back to this more in-depth later because it’s what PKD keeps using to harass me.

The third time I spoke publicly about PKD was when Silvay (sp?) posted first on Twitter, then later Tumblr. I posted a follow up the next day. I debated not saying anything. I’m an avoidant person. I don’t like conflict. I have a loud bark and no bite. My former team members can attest to this. But when I do... I don’t make public statements I’m not willing to defend, which is why everything I have linked is still published.

I do recommend stopping to read the posts linked here, and even the other posts I reblogged at the time from other people who shared their own experiences with PKD and the fandom. As I said, I don’t make public statements I won’t defend; or at least apologize and issue a public retraction. But, if you want to stay with the present and would rather have the TL;DR: I was regularly vagued about by PKD or his friends/followers, calling me transphobic and homophobic; one accused me of corrective rape; and I got tired of it.

I thought that posting publicly might bring some closure. It was cathartic to finally get it out and stop carrying that shame, and it was reassuring to hear from people who had similar experiences. At the same time, quite a few people made their own posts along the lines of “HE WAS ALWAYS NICE TO ME”. 

Oh, but he’s always been nice to me!

Look me in the eyes. Look me in the eyes and tell me that you truly believe he would be nice to you if you shipped with Mitch. Do you really believe he would? Do you think he would “block and move on” with you, unlike how he did with me?

None of those people shipped with Mitch, or other characters that people in his clique were protective over. A few months later he made a post saying not to tag me with him, and listed off every screenname I had used since I joined fandom, including the very first tumblr name I was assigned in 2021 and kept for several months because I thought it was funny. How’s that for a dog whistle? Want PKD’s attention? Better not tag wash!! [I’m sure there’s a screenshot somewhere but again, I didn’t have the energy to find it.]

By the way, why do I know all this? If I’m blocked, I shouldn’t see anything he posts without circumventing “the system”. We are mutually blocked and I don’t spy on him, or have my friends spy on him. I always knew what was going on because people were always quick to let me know anytime he was vaguing about me. “Friends” who were really concerned about the latest thing he said about me, or thought it was just terrible how people were always attacking my ship and wanted to share that feeling with me, but they only shared those thoughts in private. Slowly I separated myself from people who felt the need to keep me updated on drama, or some of them separated themselves from me and became friends with PKD, to the point that either nothing happened for some time or I just stopped seeing it, at least until last fall.

The last time I talked about him publicly was when I wrote about Fem V Friday in Fall 2023. Through the usual chain of vague posting about vague posts, a third person wrote a vague post and cast aspersions on the origin of Fem V Friday, suggesting it was created out of jealousy. PKD helpfully weighed in about a person named “W”  starting FVF from jealousy and spite, and implied he’s seen things I’ve said about him. I’d love to know what I’ve said, the context in which it was said, and the context in which he was told about what I said. 🤷

My post in response didn’t reference the vague post that spurred its creation, nor what PKD said about me, even though PKD must know my intentions and history better than me. I wrote about my love for Fem V and what drove my continued involvement week to week.

Despite my attempts to keep to my own corner or defend my name, PKD continues to defame and harass me. He has repeatedly dragged other people into his drama, sometimes my friends, just as he did in May when he brought up my anon response again. 

It was over two years ago now that I received the anon to “educate” me on Mitch being gay. I have never believed PKD sent the anon, despite his implications, and I have certainly never told anyone that he did.

Two years ago, a coward came into my inbox on anon and tried to bully me, and instead of spending a day writing five thousand words on “death of the author” and what constitutes canon and refuting the argument that I didn’t want to have, I used that energy to write about my ship in my favorite genre (smut) and published a fic on AO3. Neither my fic nor my response on tumblr referenced Mitch being gay or PKD’s ship. Before we go further, I encourage you to watch the relevant clip from the Pawel stream. It’s only 30 seconds of your time, but those 30 seconds are what PKD and others have used to justify their harassment of me.

The transcript for anyone not inclined to watch:

PKD: Am I right to overanalyze every detail in every place like the gay romance novel in Mitch's tent? Is that intentional? Pawel: My friend, on this stream, you could have learned already that everything is intentional...

The “gay romance novel in Mitch’s tent” is 1000 Beats Per Minute, a shard found all across Night City, nay, the continent as the shard/prop can be found in such locations as All Foods just after you meet Dum Dum, the foot of V’s bed in A10, and So Mi’s Brooklyn apartment. 

The contents of the shard are worth reading, if only for recognizing that the narrator is an ungendered person named “Alex” who is experiencing love for a man for the first time. Is Alex a man or a woman or neither? Whoever they are, Alex is having a queer experience, and to insist that the shard can only be about gay men is to erase a lot of other queer experiences.

Back to my anon response, PKD once again called my response transphobic and homophobic, though I will give him credit for saying he wasn’t calling me trans/homophobic, which is an upgrade from previous posts. He claims that I used the smut that I wrote as my response because I referenced writing “the smuttiest pussy eating smut I could”. I said “pussy eating” not in relation to anything about the claim that Mitch is gay, but as response to the intentions of the anon, which were never good.

The full context of my words: 

Not entirely sure what you were trying to accomplish with this message, anon. Should I pack up my words and keyboard and go home? See if it's too late to return my gaming PC because I can't take screenshots of Mitch anymore? Whatever your goal was, you pushed me to write the smuttiest pussy eating smut I could imagine. You know who wins today? - I do, because I wrote a shitload of words in one day and finished a piece that didn't even exist 8hrs ago - people who want more Fem V/Mitch content do - my meat husband does bc damn, I wrote 1800 words of smut today - not you

PKD is claiming that my description of smut I wrote about my ship is trans/homophobic.

The description of the smut I wrote about a cis bisexual female (Val) whose pussy was eaten by her cis bisexual male partner (Mitch). 

The smut I wrote about my ship, in which no one is trans or gay. 

You cannot apply the lens of PKD’s ship and characters to my writing and call it transphobic or homophobic. That’s not how literary analysis works. That’s not how social justice works.

The truth is that PKD and his mutuals/friends used his ship and beliefs to harass me. 

If that were me and it were my beliefs being used to harass someone on anon, I would demand whoever it was to stop immediately, not only because harassing people over fictional characters is awful and wrong, but good lord, to use me as the excuse? I would be mortified! Instead, PKD and his mutuals/followers used it as evidence of my being a bad person, and after several months of that, I borrowed Silvay’s courage when he posted on Twitter, and shared my own experience.

Now that we have the full background, let’s move on to recent drama and address the Flat Chest body and the wearable pecs mod, and what part I played in the process and when. This next part is for motherherbivore. I wish you had talked to me first. I thought I’d rate high enough for a DM. 

A Brief History of The Flat Chest Body Under Curation of Wash

I reached out to Na in March about helping update the Flat Chest body. I specifically wanted to update it to dynamic to take advantage of AXL’s dynamic clothing and, more importantly to me, reduce the number of clothing overrides I had to install for Hilary; plus I wanted to add toggle feet so I could have better options for shoes. Also I had another OC I’d been kicking around in my head, Grem, that I wanted to make using the flat chest. Grem did debut recently, but he changed drastically from my original vision for him.

Sharing the news with Kitty (shared with permission)

I started working on updating the mod in April but got stuck because I didn’t understand resource patching, even though I was sure it would be easy. :hidethepain: I tried adding the feet too, but everything I did resulted in a seam at the calves. As is all too common with my ADHD, I moved onto something else after getting stuck.

As I mentioned I was interested in dynamic AXL, and wanted to update my custom tee framework for Pride. With dynamic AXL, someone could generate all colors with all logos at once! (220, do not try this at home!) I included the dynamic version of the Flat Chest mesh in the upload to Nexus, even though the Flat Chest body wasn’t ready yet, but as a goal for me to also have it done in June.

I had the UV version working in early June, before the Angel body came out. I don’t remember if we already knew about the body’s existence at that point, but the community outcry against yet another unrealistic and fetishistic body mod sustained me in updating a mod that appealed to a small subset of fandom.

The message I sent to Na the morning I got it working

I got the UV version working first, since that’s what Hilary uses, then took a look at toggle feet again. After further investigation using both UV and VTK bodies, I realized there would always be a seam because the bodies were drastically different from the current body; they were completely different meshes underneath, and the seams would never line up properly. 

At that point I decided to release the functioning dynamic version without toggle feet, as I wanted to get it out for Pride. I reached out to mhb to test, as had always been my intention. For me Sanctuary is the most iconic OC to use the Flat Chest. After some technical difficulties I figured out that she used the vanilla version, and came back a few days later with a functioning vanilla version. I released my update once I had assembled the necessary files and pics from the testers, mhb included.

Later when PKD released the refits for his pecs, someone commented that the vanilla refits worked for the Flat Chest body. That’s been my only interest in his pecs mod — because people who use the Flat Chest were interested in having more clothing options. The release of the so-called “Flat Chest Detector” meant that Flat Chest body users wouldn’t be able to use the clothing refit for his wearable pecs, because it required using his pecs, which clipped with tattoos and cyberware — as is expected because it’s not a body mod, as he himself said on the mod page.

As the representative for the Flat Chest body, I agreed when streetkid-named-desire (Rat) asked me to be involved in the conversation with Berdagon about adapting their “Flat Chest” detector to recognize the Flat Chest body. Rat drove this conversation. I don’t say this to dump responsibility on them. In fact, I visited them last weekend and we talked through the situation. I suggested to Rat that I could have urged them to slow down, but they refused to let me take that responsibility, and at the end of the day they’re right — I can only control my own actions.

I do have one regret and one opportunity where I could have acted differently: when Rat asked Berdagon about the original script, Rat very explicitly asked whether the script was commissioned by PKD, and if so, Rat stated they were willing to pay to make changes; Berdagon never answered the question, and I wish I had pushed for an answer. Perhaps that could have prevented the entire situation; we could have stopped right then. While Berdagon never mentioned payment, Rat was so excited by how quickly they implemented the requested changes that they tipped them for the work.

Berdagon, the original script writer, owed PKD the responsibility to check in before modifying something that PKD paid for. Yes, Berdagon does have responsibility here as a professional who took money for a commission. When they didn’t answer the question, I could have stopped the process and pushed for an answer. I would have stopped things immediately upon hearing the answer that the script had been commissioned by PKD. PKD could still have been outraged at Rat asking for changes, but there wouldn’t have been fandom-wide drama about a body that only a dozen people use.

That’s the responsibility I will take — I, as a professional who works with consultants and freelancers, could have taken steps to ensure that everyone was acting professionally, including the person who received money twice to work on the same script.

Because I feel the need to be thorough in my explanation, here’s a simplified timeline of the release of the Flat Chest mod compared to the wearable pecs:

Late March - I receive files from Na for Flat Chest

April - I get stuck, stop working on it

April-May - I figure out dynamic AXL and convert tee framework

June 3 - I have a working dynamic UV Flat Chest

In response to outcry over the Angel body, PKD makes a poll asking what body types people want refits for and excludes Flat Chest body as an option

In response to people commenting over why Flat Chest wasn’t included, PKD explains he won’t support the body and that he would support a different Flat Chest body if someone made it

June 10 - I share the UV version for testing with several people. Two of those people, including mhb, use vanilla. I didn’t realize that, and because I didn’t name the file `UV` it took a long time to troubleshoot why things weren’t working

PKD releases the pecs

I share vanilla for testing

I post Flat Chest 2.0 before the end of June

I didn’t use you, mhb. I asked you to test because, like I said above and on Nexus, Sanctuary is the Flat Chest character for me. I asked you to test because I make mods for my friends first and foremost, and I thought you were my friend. I thought you were my friend because we’d known each other for several years now, and because of shared experiences and conversations we’ve had. I’ve been wrong before about who is a friend, and this one stings a lot.

I’m tired. I am 30 or 40 (or 50) years old and I do not need this. I have a career and a job I love, and an amazing partner who I’ve been with for a third of my life now. I have friends and hobbies in meatspace and friends who share those hobbies, and the real truth is, if I was actually trans/homophobic, well, that number would be tiny, but it’s not. I have a life that I love and that is full of joy. Most people in fandom only know the smallest fraction of the real wash, and I do not take pleasure in being targeted in a public fandom “feud”.

PKD, I say this with all the kindness I can muster for another human being who is clearly hurting: please get help. Go to therapy or see a psychiatrist or use whatever tools you can access. This obsession you have with me and my ship is not healthy for you, and your repeated pattern of bullying has hurt me and people close to me, just as your need to rehash old fandom drama hurts the community.

[the-sky-queen]

Here we are. One year to the day since I created my account here on tumblr. It feels . . . almost surreal. I don't exactly remember where I thought I'd be by this point, but I don't think I pictured this! I've made so many good friends here, seen so much AMAZING art, and overall just had so much fun. For every one of you who follow me, and even those of you who don't, thank you. You all make me so happy. I treasure each and every like, reblog, comment, and ask.

I'm sitting here in awe as I rapidly approach another big milestone here and I couldn't be more thankful. Back when I made this blog, sure I had dreams of finding an audience and connecting with some of my favorite people here, but I didn't get my hopes up. So many instances in my life of never getting picked for one thing or another taught me that the odds are low and not in my favor, but the community here is just so different. People are good. They're nice and supportive and they love it when new people show up. The beginning was hard. There are quite a few of my early posts that still have zero notes. But I've got people hanging around now that like what I make and that honestly means the world to me. I feel seen. I feel like I matter.

Thank you all so much.

I wanted to shout out a few of my mutuals real quick for a super special thank you:

@cattyanon was my first ever follower and it nearly made me cry when I got the notification. It gave me so much hope and joy. It took me way too long to follow you back, Catty, but I'm so happy that I did! your AUs are all so creative and fascinating. Thank you for being my first supporter.

@boom-fanfic-a-latta is without a doubt my closest friend here on tumblr. It all started when I stumbled across Lily's original concept post for Tachophobia. I was instantly obsessed and before I knew it, Lily was DMing me. The rest is history. :) Lily, I can't thank you enough for being my friend. Words don't do this justice. I'll always be grateful to you for caring so much about me. I love all our AUs together and I love writing them with you. Thank you so much.

I followed @totaleclipse573 for Eclipse and stayed for everything else. I love how we feed each other's angsty thoughts. XD Total, I absolutely adore your OCs and I'm so happy that you've taken interest in mine. We may not have a DM together (I suspect that's because we're both too shy to be the one to start it XD) but our interactions are still beyond fun! Thank you for being a crazy fangirl with me.

I followed @estellardreams immediately when I found her here after reading one of her Sonic Prime fics on Ao3. I was caught so off guard when I got the notification that you followed me back, Estelle! XD I instantly rushed to plan a Christmas present drawing for you. (Yeah, I drew presents for each of my mutuals. I only had FIVE then.) Since then, I've gotten to know you better and I've had an absolute blast with you. You single handedly fueled the Tachophobia obsession over winter break and it was so insanely fun. (Seriously, you were posting like three or more chapters some of those days!!! You had me screaming XD) Thank you from the bottom of my heart for being Tachophobia's biggest fan and such a supportive friend.

@skywriter97 reached out to me to talk about TMOM and I followed her soon after that after reading some of her AMAZING writing. The two of us are writing buddies, exchanging advice and feeding each other ideas whenever we need it. Girl, I can't thank you enough for letting me ramble about Immortals to you and fueling my obsession enough that I finally started writing it for real. Whenever the prologue goes up, I'll be shouting you out in the notes because it's because of YOU that I finally got moving. Thank you so much.

This isn't all my mutuals. I have more that I don't talk to as much, but even if I didn't mention you by name here, I want you all to know that you mean the world to me. Four of you are personal heroes of mine that I never in a MILLION years dreamed that I'd actually get to be mutuals with. The rest of you are all around EXTREMELY cool people that I am super blessed to have you in my life.

As I end out this post, I once again want to give a massive thank you to ALL of you for sticking around. And thank you so much for making this year absolutely incredible in more ways than one. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

[maglors-anion-gap]

27, 28, 34

-@outofangband

[for this game]

@outofangband thanks for the ask!

27. How do you feel about collaborations?

I love collaborations! The closest I've gotten to a formal collab is TRSB because I've gotten to work in great detail alongside some artists. I really enjoy when people want to chat about their vision, as I think you can tell by our million-word-long dm history. Once you get me going, I will imprint on you like a baby duck, good luck getting me to be quiet. The only thing that makes me nervous about collabs is the deadline/peer expectation type stuff because my executive function dribbles out my ears like engine oil most days. Ironically, external motivators like collaborations and exchange deadlines are the only thing that get me to actually finish my wips so. oopsie.

28. Share three of your favorite fic writers and why you like them so much.

this is in no particular order and as soon as I post this i'm gonna think to myself, damn I totally forgot X and Y and Z and -- anyway. Dialux for being so meticulous in character construction and breathing life into characters that tolkien gave less than a passing glance to, really changed me fundamentally in how I approach minor characters and group dynamics. Arofili for introducing me to trans tolkien fic and giving me the courage to write my own trans fic after years of nail-biting in other fandoms watching trans creators get ripped apart for any number of imagined offenses. findrahil on here (joanofarcstan on ao3) for heartbreak and tragedy, lush prose, and having character interactions down to a science.

34. What are your thoughts on non-con and dub-con?

teehee you know my thoughts on noncon/dubcon. to the rest of my readers: at some point i'll curse you with my wip folder.

(below a cut for general discussion of sexual violence in media)

Writing is all about finding ways to let readers know things about characters in a way that seems organic. Chiefly, I think noncon/dubcon is a scenario as a rhetorical device, like any other literary scenario, that a writer can use to explore explicit and implicit characterization. It's an excellent tool to explore grief, fear, indecision, loyalty, betrayal, anger, and guilt.

Different strokes for different folks. Not everyone is going to want to read the same thing or write the same thing. What I find cathartic or honest someone else might find repulsive or sensational, and neither of us are wrong. There was a period of time I couldn't touch the great gatsby or tess of the durbervilles because they were painful to read. That doesn't mean they are ugly sensationalist books that have nothing to say.

This is especially true when we think of survivors; many people can picture avoidant and withdrawn survivors, while scorning survivors who turn to hypersexuality or risky behavior as a means of regaining control over their life. I think it's fair to talk about how big producers write stories that aren't respectful or accurate, but it's really shitty to come onto a small platform where you can directly contact the author themself, to lambast their work as too graphic or ugly when the theme is a traumatic event that is astoundingly common in its incidence rate. Like please gain some perspective, folks. Lolita gets this treatment a lot, nabokovs' thesis hinging on humbert humbert being a charismatic manipulator who controls the postmortem narrative of dolores via his memoirs as the framework of the book.

This is not just true of how we debate portraying violence (sexual or otherwise) but also of a host of topics. What I want to read or write about the trans experience is not necessarily what others need to read or write.

I have a hard time feeling sorry for people who complain about noncon or dubcon existing in media that they are going out of their way to look for and interact with instead of self-regulating. I think it can be a self-harm method to look for things one finds unpleasant; when people aren't doing it to self-harm, they're doing it because they're immature. I'm not saying it's not occasionally fun to hate-read/hate-watch something but when it's festering in your head? Put it down and forget about it. There is literally nothing you can do to get people to stop writing something you find objectionable that would not also be a hideous thing to do to someone (like harassment, doxxing, suicide bait etc).

I think people have a hard time wrapping their head around that, when the opposite truth is pretty self evident: that writers who write bigoted things should have to take responsibility for propagating bigotry, and that people who do bigoted things should be on the hook for their own actions. I find there's a lot of muddy water there already too, because I've definitely seen trans people be attacked for writing about their own lives in a way that (usually cis people, but sometimes trans people) don't want to hear about - I'm thinking about Leslie Feinberg the ze/hir transmasculine lesbian but also small tumblr bloggers too. Like "you shouldn't be writing that!!!" except it's like, someone talking about not wanting bottom surgery or having abnormal pronouns; I think the messiest portions of communities, the portions that defy easy comprehension, are the first to be attacked in service of making the community easy to understand or sympathize with. And I think this sort of observation applies to discussing literary content too, that a certain level of scrutiny is going to cause more harm than good, especially to people who are most vulnerable to harm.

My final thought on the matter is that people are really really afraid of being infected with brainworms. I don't know how much of it is the culturally christian "god is watching and he's planning how to best boil you in oil for eternity" and how much is the rampant scrupulosity that seems to pop up in leftist circles. People are terrified of a bad thought getting into their heads and turning them into someone who does bad things. I'm worried about it too!!! In reality, people don't get suckered into doing bad things in a vacuum. Having a strong analytical foundation and media literacy is an excellent way to help people understand the context and themes in a piece, figure out what the literary purpose is, and decide where that behavior fits in their real world ethical map.

Reading Lolita is not going to teach people it's okay to abuse children. Reading Lolita and trying to pick out where humbert humbert's narrative is designed to seem sympathetic, why that is, what he's hiding under his narrative, and how this connects to charismatic abusers getting away with abuse might help people guard against abuse in real life. A major focus in my public health degree was interpersonal, family, and community violence, and the unifying thread in all of this was that people don't understand what causes abuse, what abuse looks like, how to talk about and teach about abuse, or what evidence based things we can do to prevent it. As a society we are allergic to talking about it, and utterly refuse to investigate why we think abusers look like nefarious ugly socially inept monsters while simultaneously reinforcing systems of power that entrench and occult abuse allowing normal ordinary-looking people to commit abuse. No one wants to admit that anyone is capable of abuse. This does not mean that abusive behavior is ready to leap out of every person (a la brain worms theory suggests). It just means that denying a problem exists, refusing to find evidence based solutions, and decrying any attempt to talk about it, is the least sensible thing to do. Knowing how to spot an abuser, or how to spot abusers and manipulation in literature, does not turn people into abusers. I really do not think it is a productive use of time to interrogate the erotic and taboo things people write about or read about, or the things that confuse, frighten, or arouse you yourself. But maybe I'm just more concerned with the state of the real world than niche AO3 dubcon.

(grumpy tone not directed at you, or any of my followers)

[ygo-is-gayer-than-i-remember]

Yugioctober Day 9: Possessed

(Prompt list)  (Read it here on Ao3!)

Summary: Yugi’s teacher attempts to exorcise Yami.

I want to shout out @millenniumfandom for the inspiration for this piece.  They made a post about scenarios they wish we had seen that I loved and borrowed one from the list.  I hope I did your vision justice!

Another day, another threat to beat Yugi up in the school parking lot for no reason.  The bell signaling the end of the day had rung five minutes ago, yet Yugi was sitting in the empty classroom, dreading having to walk out and face his inevitable assault.  The teacher hadn’t noticed him lingering in his seat when she rose from her desk and locked the doors behind her, but he didn’t care.  Anzu had left for her shift at Burger World.  Honda had promised Miho he’d take her for a ride on his new motorcycle so they were probably long gone by now.  Jou was in detention on the second floor and would be there for a while, but Yugi couldn’t exactly pop into detention and ask to hang out.  He didn’t have anyone there who could protect him.

Is something wrong, my light?

Yugi turned to see two concerned golden eyes peering at him from the familiar silhouette on the wall and smiled.  Maybe he did have someone to protect him after all.

He was still getting used to Yami’s presence, but he found the longer the spirit was around, the more attached he grew, and the more they learned about how the strange bond between them worked.  One of the first things they figured out was how to speak to one another through their minds.  That way, Yami didn’t have to use so much energy trying to balance his control with Yugi’s and Yugi didn’t have to worry about freaking out his Grandpa by talking to “himself” in his room for hours.

I’m just nervous, he replied.  Some more people threatened me today.

Yami’s eyes narrowed at the possibility of Yugi being hurt.  Would you prefer if I took over?

Yugi shook his head and hopped out of his chair, slinging his book bag over one shoulder.  No, that’s okay.  I’m hoping if I go the back way they won’t notice me.

That is smart, Yami agreed, but do not hesitate to reach out if you need me.

Yugi was about to thank the spirit for his kindness, but his thoughts were interrupted by a shrill gasp from the other side of the room.  Panicking, Yami immediately took control from Yugi to protect him from whatever danger might present itself, and Yugi, now an invisible spirit, just froze and waited for the shit to hit the fan.

Yami’s blazing red eyes snapped open and fixed themselves on the horrified face of Yugi’s elderly history teacher.  His posture stiffened, and he exchanged a glance with Yugi.  They both silently agreed not to switch back for fear of her noticing more than she already had.

In his best Yugi impression, Yami began, “Um...hello, Mrs. Miyazaki.  I am, uh...I’m sorry for surprising you.”

Mrs. Miyazaki scrambled back behind her desk, never taking her eyes off of Yami, and started rummaging through one of her drawers.

Yami squirmed in place knowing the only unlocked door--and, therefore, the only exit--was the one Mrs. Miyazaki had just entered from.  He slowly made his way across the room until he was standing a foot in front of her desk, shuffling from foot to foot.  He was about to bid her an awkward farewell when something hit him square in the forehead.  It sent a sharp pain through his skull.

“Ow!  What was--?!  Ouch!”  Another thing hit him on the top of his head when he looked down to see what the first thing was.  Both appeared to be tags half the size of his hand with something stuffed inside a pocket of embroidered silk.

“Begone, foul demon!  Release the child’s soul!” Mrs. Miyazaki shrieked, chucking another one of the trinkets at Yami’s face.

Yami batted it away.  It left a stinging feeling on the back of his hand.  “I’m not a--gah!”  He glared at the old woman after another hit him between the eyes and made his head throb.  “Would you knock it off?!”

He was met with a face full of purified salt.

“Fuck!!”  He slapped his hands over his burning eyes, tears dripping down his cheeks as his borrowed body tried desperately to get out the invading element.

Seeing Yami in distress, Yugi finally snapped out of his stupor to rush to the spirit’s aid.  “Yami, switch back!” he begged, knowing only Yami could hear him if he spoke aloud.  “She’ll calm down if she sees it’s me!”

Yami hesitated for a moment, no doubt worried about what might happen to Yugi if he were to leave, but allowed Yugi to take full control.  This also allowed Yugi to feel the full brunt of the seasoning his teacher had thrown into his eyes.

Mrs. Miyazaki must have picked up on the switch because she rushed around her desk and helped Yugi wash the salt out with a fresh water bottle.  “Yugi, are you alright?  Did that monster hurt you?”

“N-no, I’m okay,” he mumbled.

“Oh good.”  Mrs. Miyazaki let out a sigh of relief, screwed the cap back on the bottle, and offered Yugi some tissues.  While he wiped at his eyes, she picked the little tags off the ground and slipped them into the front pocket of his backpack.  “Okay, I want you to take these omamori home with you.  They’re made to ward off dark and evil spirits, they’ll help protect you.  And when you get home, put some salt in the corners of all the rooms and toss some fukumame out of your front door like you would for Setsubun.”

Yugi just nodded along to his teacher’s instructions, said goodbye, and exited to the hallway when he could see properly again. During his silent walk, he was trying to decide whether what had just happened was more humorous or concerning.  Based on the laughter bubbling up and out of him, he had settled on humorous.

You are cruel to laugh at my pain.

Yugi kept giggling, unable to stop himself.  Come on, you’ve got to admit it was a little funny.

I will admit nothing, Yami replied, but Yugi could feel the tinge of amusement coming from his side of their mind link.  You watched as I was attacked and now I must ache from the stress it put on my spirit.

Aw, I’m sorry, Yami.  Yugi rolled his eyes and gave the shadow a semi-sympathetic smile.  Did it give you a headache or something?

In a manner of speaking, yes.

You can rest for a while if you want, drama queen.  And I’ll let you choose what games we play when I’m done with my homework too.

Yami seemed to relax at the prospect of rest, but he didn’t let himself give in just yet.  Are you positive?  Will you be alright?

I’m fine, don’t worry.  Those guys are probably gone by now anyway.

Thank you, my light.  And for the record, I am not a “drama queen”.

You totally are, but okay.

Yugi felt more than heard Yami chuckle, and he drifted back into the Puzzle, leaving a feeling of peaceful exhaustion behind.  Times like these reminded Yugi that as much as the spirit would take care of him in his time of need, he needed to take care of the spirit as well.  He had been human once, as far as either of them knew, and like any human, Yami needed care and rest.  Sometimes the spirit forgot that.  Sometimes they both did.  But other times, Yugi was given a window into Yami’s humanity that Yami himself often forgot.  Yugi had to remind Yami that no matter who or what he was now, a part of him was still human.  And every time, Yugi was more than happy to provide the care Yami needed to remember.

[katytheinspiredworkaholic]

WIP Wednesday Thursday

Title: Extraordinary

Pairings: HotchReid (side pairings Morcia, WillxJJ, others in flirtation)

Summary: League of Extraordinary Gentleman/Vampire AU;

Within the FBI there is a specialized team full of an elite selection of people. Unique individuals with very particular skill sets. And their job is to take the unusual cases: the ones that need to not only be solved, but are undetermined if the unsub is human, or something else entirely.

In a world filled with Vampires, non-human creatures, and subspecies unknown, there is only enough information to have them vaguely regulated. Rules that are so easily, and violently broken, all while hidden in plain sight among the unsuspecting public. Unrivaled for eons.

That’s where the BAU comes in.

Official Posting Date: Now posted on tumblr and Ao3, Click Here

Links: (Masterpost) (Snippet 01) (Snippet 02) (Snippet 03) (Snippet 04)

(TW/CW: This is pretty tame, Emily is just a little intense and eager because Spencer is... well, Spencer, and when she realizes all he can do? Oh she is chomping at the bit. Some trance-like things and witchy stuff and Hotch being territorial without being able to admit it.)

(the story so far/what you need to know for this clip at least: this takes place in chapter 02, what you will all see on Saturday evening, and this version is insanely unpolished (I’m about to go through and fix it up and give it a good make-over) but basically this is the first time Spencer is meeting Emily Prentiss and it makes... an impression. Also, Emily has been at the BAU for about 0.2 seconds and Hotch is already done with her. The sibling energy I love to see. It’s also hella long, as an apology for missing last week and being a day late. All you’ve missed is Spencer about ran into Emily turning a corner and she saved him from spilling his case files and coffee all over the floor. Now they are talking)

–

.

“I apologize, I thought you were an intern or still in the academy.”

“It’s alright, everyone does,” Spencer says without taking offense. He wouldn’t have gotten where he was or lasted very long if he did; however, if he had a nickel for every time someone had been surprised by his age, he’d be as rich as Father Rossi. His full hands actually aids him as he mentions, “I don’t usually shake hands with people, so don’t think me rude. I’m Dr. Spencer Reid.” He offers her a smile in exchange, and it is mirrored on her face just as her surprise kicks up another notch. 

“Doctor, my my I am in for a trip on this team, aren’t I?” she laughs, and it’s a melodic thing that stretches over an expanse of time and history. Ballrooms in Russia and palors of France, Elizabethan and the roaring 20’s and everything in between all rolled into one. He’s not sure how he sees it, an impossible thing, but he can read it like a book and that must have something to do with what she is. “Emily Prentiss, it is a remarkable pleasure to meet you Dr. Reid. Now, I have to ask--” her tone is so charming and playful and probing he barely notices the nuance, “And I’m sure it’s taboo around here, but I have to know -- your regeneration process. Tell me what it is or what you do. You look so young.”

“I am young,” he states simply, finally stunned by a question he’s not usually asked. 

“Yes, yes, we all can’t be a thousand years old like your fearless Vampire leader,” she waves off and Spencer’s eyes widen because… he hadn’t known Hotch was that old. Sure he’d said he’d been alive for the better part of a millennia, but he always said it like a hyperbole. A turn of phrase that’s off by a couple centuries. But --

 A thousand years old. 

That would put him… 

God, that would put him alive, as a human, just before the start of The Crusades. 

“Oh, did he keep that to himself? Oops, my bad. Pretend you don’t know. Anyway -- so are you a Shifter? Or use a particular spell? Oh, or is it a curse? I’m fascinated by curses, I don’t use them often myself but the rigidity of terms using a power so chaotic is just such a fun juxtaposition that I--”

“No, no, I’m… normal, human,” Spencer interrupts her, still the smallest bit shell-shocked, but now connects a few dots himself as she speaks. Realizes very suddenly that Ms. Prentiss appears ageless because she is ageless. She’s also a Witch. One of the broadest terms for subspecies categories, which really doesn’t do it justice. A Witch could be a number of things. Someone who uses magic and science and the very Earth itself paired with the spiritual planes to do impossible things. Witches are beings so powerful they should be uncategorizable. Something Spencer is fascinated by as well. He’s never met anyone like Emily. “I look young because I am young. I’m 27, I’ve only been with the BAU for the past three years. I’m a little excited to not be the newbie on the team any more,” he tries to joke, but Emily’s gaze has gone distant and sharp all at once.

“You’re only 27? And you’re a doctor?” She asks in clarification, Spencer nodding along each time. “You’ve been a doctor, since becoming an FBI agent?” 

“Um, well -- I’m not a medical doctor. I do have three doctorates, though; in mathematics, chemistry, and engineering,” he finds himself shrinking a bit under her intensely interested gaze. “What?”

“Chemistry?” she asks, vaguely more distant.

“That was my first doctorate,” he murmurs back, not sure what has her looking so contemplative. 

“You’ve achieved all of this: three doctorates, FBI agent, BAU -- in 27 years?” she questions, a grave yet wondrous sound.

“Technically I did all of that in 15 years. I graduated high school when I was 12,” he manages to do more than mumble, and Emily’s wide-eyed stare has him spewing forth information like it requires an explanation. “I have an eidetic memory, and I can read 20,000 words a minute, and my IQ is 187 so by human standards yes -- I’m a genius, and borderline on the advanced brain developments scale. But I’m still human. Nothing paranormal or extraordinary.”

The pause that follows is palpable.

“Oh,” she says in an exhale, “Oh, you young soul. You have no idea, do you? What you are capable of...” She tilts her head as she steps closer and Spencer is very suddenly aware that he’s not sure she’s blinked since they started speaking about his qualifications. What he can do, how he got to where he is. No one usually shows this much interest, he makes them uncomfortable for reasons he doesn’t always understand. 

Emily doesn’t look uncomfortable, she looks… hungry. 

“You are so very, very extraordinary. Exceptional, really. Look at all of what you’ve accomplished with just 15 years of life.” That astonished sound again, like she can’t believe her luck--

And then she’s in his space, gaze boring into his, and Spencer can see galaxies in the depth of her eyes. His breath stolen from him and feet rooted to the floor. So he doesn’t step away as she leans just the smallest bit closer, words resonating with echoes across ages.

“Imagine what you could do with a thousand.” 

“Prentiss,” the deep voice of Hotch’s monotone (edged in something vaguely aggressive, and more than a little aggravated)  breaks through their moment. The trance fading like a fog from Spencer’s eyes. “No recruiting. It’s in your contract.”

“You have such a gift, it’s a shame to waste it,” Emily whispers in a rush as Hotch approaches them from down the hall. More earnest than intimidating, now.

“Prentiss!” 

“Think about it,” she winks, and then turns to give Hotch a smile that’s all teeth so sharp she resembles a shark. “Oh, what a sour face. What’s wrong? Were you planning on asking him first? You snooze, you lose.” 

“Conference room,” he instructs, pointing the way Spencer had just come. “Team meeting in 20 minutes. Try not to summon anything between here and there.” She sticks her tongue out at him childishly as she leaves, and sends a quirk of a smile Spencer’s direction that shifts her whole expression into something comically entertained. He’s never seen Hotch interact with someone like this, like they were… familiar, even exasperatingly so. The closest in comparison is probably Father Rossi. But this is less like old friends and more like sibling rivalry. 

The space Emily had just vacated is suddenly filled with Hotch, an overwhelmingly welcomed presence and it eases the tension out of Spencer’s spine and shoulders that he hadn’t even realized was there. 

“Are you okay?” he asks, low and quiet. They’re the only ones in the hallway, but secrecy is a hard habit to break.

Spencer nods, still gaining his bearings once more. “I think so. That didn’t feel like hypnotism. I don’t know what that was.” 

“Prentiss doesn’t manipulate minds or the wills of other people,” Hotch tells him, which is soothing if not for the foreboding question of what just occurred. “She doesn’t need to. She can do a lot of things: change her face, her voice, make illusions and talk circles around anyone -- even you.” Spencer looks up to him at that, aware that his level of intelligence is the only thing that keeps him safe from JJ or Hotch’s influence. His mind can’t be bent, or tricked.

“Then what was she doing? I felt compelled but… not against my will. What was that?” he asks, also quiet but much more high in pitch as his confusion turns his voice to a winded sound.

Hotch’s thin, stern frown does nothing to alleviate the apprehension caught up in his chest like a bad cold. 

.

“Possibility,” he states, grim and not liking that Spencer had fallen prey to such a short moment with Emily Prentiss and her promise of what her craft could do for him. Hotch is well aware that Spencer’s gift of soaking up every speck on information he’s given like a sponge isn’t something to let wither and die like so many before him. There’s so much he could do with an infinite life, such as his and Emily’s, but the curse of living forever alone is not something to be taken lightly. And not to be decided by someone who still has so much more life to live unaided by other forces.

However, Emily was right about one thing. Hotch can’t deny that he’s thought about it. More than considered it as a definite possibility. 

An offer, all his own.

–

Tagged list so far: @physics-magic​, @thaddeusly, @ssa-noa, @ssa-sarahsunshine, @tobias-hankel, @reidology, @mintphoenix

[rawliverandcigarettes]

Our discussion on turians made me wonder: how do you imagine the culture of the Salarian Union? (I'm sorry, you probably talked about this elsewhere, but I was too lazy to look for that, if so feel free to refer me to that post.) I find that there are surprisingly little elements about it in canon, though there are a few hints, like the fact that the planets in the Pranas system all have modern names, the previous names having been discarded, presumably, because they evoke "bygone superstition"?

Hello! Sorry I took some time. I actually rarely packaged my thoughts on salarian culture in a digestible way, so you gave me a great opportunity to give it a recap! I will go more indepth in the future for sure, but I might do a lil' overarching presentation of my general thoughts.

First, I have written an exploration/explanation of some of my headcanons regarding salarian reproduction, and it can be found here on Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18872515

It is sliightly out of date and I need to do a pass to adjust some of my thoughts, but I still go by the general idea.

I also agree that there is very little things in the OT canon. I think there might be slightly more in Andromeda maybe, but I still haven't played the game so who knows!

I even believe the games kind of give up on salarian culture past ME1, where they are arguably given the most importance; we get more depth to it in ME2 through the sole and lonely perspective of Mordin; and in ME3 they are barely worth more than somewhat cheap antagonism and a couple of questionable jokes. Even right now during the promo of MELE, I felt like salarians keep being characterized as weird-cute-gross, and more like the butt of a joke than people. Even the promo for Director Tann in MEA had this "haha you get a role for a mass effect character and you thought you'd be sexy and cool TOO BAD" vibe to it, which makes me think part of the devteam (or at least the marketing side of it) don't think too highly of their very own space frogs :'(((

But to get on my actual thoughts (under the cut and the nice gif, because it won't be as long as it could be, but it's still somewhat long):

So first off, I'm trying to keep in mind how indescribably huge the Salarian Union is: we're talking about a conglomerate of planet-sized communities, moons, artificial stations, plus appendages in every large-scaled, cosmopolitan communities in Council space and possibly beyond. Just like it would be hard to talk about any united "human culture", I think the same could be true for any Mass Effect species --even though, for the sake of both narrative convenience and the tendency for globalization once communities get connected and break down communication barriers, shortcuts have to be made (and that helps make Points, and I like stories to have Points so yee).

For this reason, I have identified organizational tendencies within these communities, based both on baseline of natural grouping emerging off salarian biology (clan-based structures with matriarchal figures) and where I speculated breakdowns would happen in the modern, multicultural setting of the ME universe. To brutally over-simplify: there would be the "traditional" political organization of Sur'kesh (that I will briefly cover later), the "colonial" style (a derivation of the Sur'kesh style with more centralization), and the growing influence of ultraliberalism creeping from Council space back unto these communities, creating a myriad of variations depending on how much the communities are willing to adapt to production being controlled by corporations.

I headcanon the culture, however, to be at once: very collectivist yet an oligarchy (because dalatrasses have a right to power by virtue of existence basically), extremely eugenist to the point of having created literal, biological races that are genetically distinct from each other and cultivated to remain as such by some clans (and therefore can be very cruel towards the disabled/the imperfect at birth too), misandrist (I believe being a male salarian from a shitty clan/baronny is one of the lower forms of political existence that can be in this universe, hence why their lives in the working force are so goddamn disposable), but also designed to protect its members and have the community take care of their basic needs (so homelessness is almost not a thing, or at least used to not be a thing). I also believe the culture to be consistently young and vibrant, with lots of energy (for better and for worse). And during the time of ME, to be under economical and social duress (even gender duress!) as it sits at a crossroad regarding its future, and everyone has a lots of ideas on what this future should look like, including people gawking the outside with economical or political interests in the outcome (this basically the plot of The Empire of Preys, which is technically a prequel to Halfway Home but will be written after HH because I love chronologies that make sense and are easy to understand :) :) ).

So concerning the OG, Sur'kesh style: I have contorted a weird economical/diplomatic/land planning system into quasi-existence, that is based around a unit called the "symposium". This is a *relatively* young system in their history (still milleniums old, it really solidified in the middle of the Rachni Wars as a reaction/adaptation after several waves of imperialism that didn't really look like ours but had the same effect of flattening local cultures into a more aggressive semi-ethnostate), but central into dividing resources, workers, affect. I will not go into too much details because this is quite complicated, but these are basically commitees that will take democratic decisions among its members, based on how many clan members are appointed in both this symposium and and adjacent symposiums that might be helpful to this one --it's a system explicitely based on bribes and social influence, and getting the partial control of key symposiums is absolutely essential for Dalatrasses to maintain the influence and relevance of their respective clans. It's also a system that has, traditionally, very little use for money (it exists, but as a token of exchange that doesn't carry inherent value --if you have only access to money as a clan, you are basically worthless and won't get access to good matches or good symposium seats, or at least you used to until capitalism knocked at the doooooor and that kinda fucked things uppppppp and the society is not recovering and the gaps are getting extreeeeeme this is the plot of TEOP basically).

Oh and on the subject of the transition to more capitalist values and the decay of clans that cannot keep up, I wrote The Leftovers a couple of years ago, which talks about a young dalatrass-to-be discovering she might be sterile, right here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15854244

I have a ton more things to say on the subject (and salarian culture as a whole), buuut this is getting quite long already haha.

And in regards to your question: I headcanon that salarians from one specific continent -that then became the "cultural norm" over imperialism and complications- were confronted, in a continental way, to a huge hurricane that led to incredible floods and then stagnant water and diseases, which really soured their relationship to water that was previously quite holy. This led to a very bitter enlightenment; their "Renaissance" came out of spite against nature rather than anything else, and a lot of previous ideas were abandoned for a time -then reclaimed, then abandoned again, then warped... It's complicated. :D

[pearwaldorf]

If I never see another post from Franzeska aka olderthannetfic here it will be too soon. How dare she answer questions about racism and AO3 like she wasn’t one of the people who helped build it into the very structure of the site? I am quoting this directly from her post (emphasis mine): 

We picked the archive warnings from things that were common on older fic archives. Which, yes, reflects what fandom cared about at the time and is not neutral. (And when I say “we”, I do mean me specifically. I can’t remember how much my committee chose those and how much the Board and others drove the exact selection, but I did a lot of the research into older archives at the time. Including something about racism straight up never occurred to me in 2008.)

And sure, our views can evolve a lot in a decade. But Racefail happened in 2009, and none of the topics discussed at the time are different than those we’re focusing on today, 11 years later. For shits and giggles, here is my archived Livejournal post about the entire mess. If you click through to the other links (synedochic’s in particular), I think you will see this is something that didn’t just pop up with Tumblr and the SJW/anti contingent. (I’m not comfortable with conflating antis/fandom fundies/purity wankers with fans legitimately criticizing racism in fandom, but that is how a lot of it gets lumped together as a dismissive tactic.)

Which brings us to That Piece of Shit Meta in 2016. I am linking to the Fanlore entry for context, because the Actual Piece of Shit Meta is archive-locked (you can access it from Fanlore if you really want to read it, but it’s 16K of garbage).

A selection of commentary about it:

Guys, this was the problem all along. I’m doing fandom wrong by falling in love with the wrong source text. If I’d only understood that this wasn’t my space to enjoy non-white and/or non-male characters, because the majority of characters are white men, imagine how much happier I’d be in my life. (allofthefeelings)

they’ve been spouting yt apologia while fetishizing asian culture for years, this is nothing new. i’m pretty sure i’ve read franzeska saying the same things back when racefail ‘09 was going down. like most of this isn’t surprising bc it is exactly what we saw yt lj fandom peeps spouting in 2007-2010 and i’m personally not shocked that these people learned absolutely nothing. they don’t want to learn and being accountable for their actions. (astro-projection [edited to correct quote attribution and link])

Franzeska goes deep into the history of AO3 to talk about why slash is represented heavily there... But in 16,000 words over 13 chapters, there is not one mention of Racefail ‘09. Not a single reference to the time a popular Harry Potter LJ community used a racial slur as a prompt in 2007. Nothing about the Supernatural RPF Big Bang story that used the 2010 Haiti earthquake as a backdrop for a J2 love story (THAT’S A REAL THING THAT HAPPENED). Nothing about the time in 2006 that comics BNF Te pointed out the marginalization black characters faced on two then-juggernauts of white m/m slash fandom, Angel and Smallville. (snarl-furillo, the entire comment is worth reading so please click through)

This erasure of context and history is violent. Because many of the women of color who originally (and still) critique/d and resist/ed fandom’s normalized racism/misogynoir did so to their own detriment and with not insignificant risk to their personal well-being, safety, and privacy. Women of color were ‘outed’ by other fans for speaking out (doxed). They were attacked and silenced from all sides. They lost friends and community. They had to, with great vulnerability, cut themselves open and drag out their own private, internal experiences to air for all the (white) people who disbelieved them. They often found themselves speaking directly to a fucking wall of over-sensitive whiteness that would just as easily topple right on top of them. If anything in fandom is precious, it’s white feelings. And it always has been. (halfhardtorock)

In 2017 she was part of a Kickstarter to do a film about fangirls and fandom. I asked (you’ll need to hit “show comment” to see it) her to publicly comment about That Piece of Shit Meta, which she did. 

But before she did, Chelsea Woods, the co-creator of the project, emailed me about the comment. I don’t remember what exactly the email said, because it was a really long time ago, but she wanted to talk to me about the meta, perhaps to help formulate a response. Chelsea also reached out to somebody else outspoken about the issue at the time, and this is from a DM exchange I had with them:  

I understand why Chelsea reached out, as the head of the project and probably because she thought I would be more likely to respond instead of Franzeska. But tbh it feels like Franzeska's trying to get somebody else (a woman of color) to do the legwork for her. To the best of my knowledge I don't have F blocked on Twitter or Tumblr, and it's not like my email is hard to figure out.  I don't exactly relish the thought of talking to her, but as the one who fucked up, I feel like it is incumbent upon her to make the gesture...

I basically told Chelsea the same as you, that at this point there is very little she can do to demonstrate she understood what she did was fucked up, and that she has learned anything from the experience.

And when I tried to reblog her response, I found out Franzeska had blocked me, if that gives you any indication of how much she honestly wants to engage in discussion. 

Which brings me to now. I was literally today years old when I learned that Franzeska was head of the Abuse team for A While. (Bess says 2008-2012.) So suddenly a lot of things make sense, especially the lackluster (to put it politely) response about racist nonsense I’ve heard over the years, like in male hockey RPF. [edit: additional context in this post, ty Rukmini]

Certainly Franzeska is not responsible for everything racist about AO3, but she has definitely had a hand in shaping a culture that sacrifices the well-being and comfort of black users (among others) on the altar of “maximum inclusivity of content”. To turn the phrase back on them, who is “our own”? Why is it important to preserve an environment where a racially fetishistic fic that objectifies a black hockey player can stay up but a black fan basically has to go in like Viago checking for sunlight?

There is a balance between draconian content restrictions and letting racism, sexism, transphobia, etc run rampant on the site. I’m not saying it will be possible to find it immediately, or that it won’t change over time. But we have to try, if the AO3 is truly committed to making it a place that includes everybody, and not just the specific group of people who designed the site.

[gryffindorcls]

Midnight Resolutions

Summary: After an accidental reveal, Marinette has been avoiding Adrien for months. Alya noticed, and with the help of their friends, she's been working hard to get Adrien and Marinette to admit their very obvious feelings for each other. Unfortunately, all their plans have ended in disaster! Now, it's almost midnight on New Year's Eve, and the class has one last plan.

Length: 2, 638 words This is my present for @toothlessthecatnoir for the ML Secret Santa Exchange by @mlsecretsanta​! You asked for fluff, romance, hurt/comfort, and a happy ending, and I hope this fits the bill! Sorry for posting this at the literal eleventh hour! lol Happy Holidays! I hope you enjoy it! (A shout-out to my super awesome beta @misscongenialityofmlb for taking a look at this!)

— AO3

Fanfiction

“You all remember the plan?” Alya stared down the group of people gathered in her living room. “Because if you have any questions, now is the time to ask.”

“Honestly, I don’t think anyone was listening just now.” Alix rolled her eyes and huffed. “We’re exhausted, and we've been at this for weeks. What makes this plan any different?”

Alya knew her friends were tired, but she had to remain resolute. If she wanted her team of helpers to finish what they’d started, she knew that she needed to be the confident and optimistic leader they needed. Besides, this was the night that all their hard work would come to fruition.

It had to be.

Right?

She took a deep breath and plastered a smile on her face. “This time we’re keeping it simple. They’ll kiss for sure!”

“But that’s what you said about the winter carnival, the history project, the Secret Santa, and the mistletoe.” The jovial aura that usually surrounded Kim was noticeably missing, sending a pang of guilt through Alya’s chest. “Nothing has worked.”

Alya did her best not to cringe at the memories of their various mishaps. True, her previous plans had been a little intense, but it was worth the sacrifice. Marinette had done so much for all of them in the past, and Adrien deserved some happiness in his life. It was the least they could do for their friends.

“And let’s not forget the time we tried to lock them in that closet.” Alix’s frustration seemed to grow as she spoke. “Marinette sent Kim to the emergency room after that!”

Kim shuddered. “Don’t remind me. If I hadn’t run away, Marinette would have broken my arm for sure. I still can’t figure out how she busted down the door that fast. We were lucky that I walked away with a mild concussion instead of a cast.”

“Look, I know we’ve been at this for months, but trust me! It’s going to work this time.” Alya clenched a fist in front of her. “I just know it will.”

Removing his glasses, Nino pinched the bridge of his nose. “Babe, don’t get me wrong, it hurts to watch those two, but I don’t think we can handle another disaster. Every time we put those two together, Marinette flips.”

“Yes, but it’s not like we haven’t dealt with a jumpy Marinette in the past.” Panic began to settle in her gut as the energy in the room slowly died. “It’s just a little more than what we’re used to.”

“A little?” Nino closed his eyes and sighed. “Ms. Mendeleiev is still pissed about the fire in her lab last month, and we’re lucky that the museum isn’t making us pay for the broken windows.”

“Not to mention Juleka lost her eyebrows...twice,” Rose piped in from the back of the group. “I highly doubt she wants to lose them a third time.”

“They grew back,” Juleka mumbled, “It’s fine. Marinette and Adrien need us.”

“Yes! Thank you, Juleka! We can’t stop now!” She could hear the desperation in her own voice. “They are perfect for each other, and you know it!”

“Yes, and I want my bro to be happy. I really do.” Slumping in his seat, Nino looked defeated. “But at what cost?”

“You know as well as I do that it was even worse before we started doing all of this. Marinette wouldn’t even look at him, and Adrien walked around like a kicked puppy.” Giving up was not an option...not when they were so close.

“Yeah, I remember.” Nino collapsed onto the couch. “Adrien was so tight-lipped about the whole thing, and I thought he was going to burst into tears at any second. But this is getting dangerous, babe. You gotta admit that.”

“If only we knew what happened between them that made them act so weird around each other.” Alix chuckled. “Well...weirder than they usually are.”

“All we have to do is get them to sit on this couch together all night.” Alya couldn’t back down...not now. “No complicated schemes tonight. We just need to put the snacks in the right place so Adrien sits next to them. That boy is always hungry.”

Kim shook his head. “Okay, that’s great and all, but that only takes care of Adrien. How do you plan on getting Marinette to stay in one spot? What makes you think that she won’t leave the couch?”

“All of us are going to pair off and make it too awkward for her to join any group.” She was proud of this plan, but the hesitant looks on the faces around her planted a seed of doubt in her mind. “She’s getting here before Adrien, and I know she’ll retreat to the couch when she sees the rest of us already engaged in our own conversations.”

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’m with Kim. That is the weakest plan I’ve ever heard.” Alix plopped onto the couch next to Nino, grabbed a pillow, shoved it against her face, and screamed. “This nightmare is never going to end!”

“No, it’s the perfect plan. Marinette is the kind of girl who is too polite to ram her way into a conversation between two people. My girl has class, and she hates being a third wheel.” Ignoring the uncertainty, Alya stood her ground. “Trust me.

“Well, I still think it’s a longshot, but it doesn’t involve fire or glass this time, so I guess I’m in.” Alix pointed her index finger toward Alya. “But this is the last time. After tonight we have to let them figure it out on their own.”

“Fine.” Once again feeling her confidence grow, Alya smiled. “But it’s going to work this time.”

“Whatever you say!” Alix said with a flippant wave of her hand.

It was going to work.

It had to.

What could possibly go wrong?

***

CRASH

With an outstretched hand, Adrien watched a punch-covered Marinette spring from the couch, run into Alya’s bedroom, and slam the door behind her. Where had he gone wrong?

It had been exactly three months, seventeen days, two hours, and twenty-eight minutes since Marinette, the love of his life, had accidentally revealed her identity to Chat Noir.

Her words from that day replayed in his head like a broken record. “I fell in love with a boy who apologized by giving me an umbrella after I thought he put gum on my seat.”

When everything clicked into place, he couldn’t not tell her who he was. At least that’s what he had thought at the time.

Perhaps pulling her into an embrace, whispering her name into her ear, and detransforming was not the best way to handle the situation, but how was he supposed to know that she would react so negatively? Not only was he her loyal partner, but he was also her crush. It seemed like a win-win! Right?

Wrong.

If he had known that she was going to avoid him for months on end, he would have done things differently. But the past was in the past, and he could only hope for a better future. Marinette was his lady, his light, his love. How was he supposed to declare his love if she kept running away?

“Follow her,” Alya whispered into his ear, pulling him away from his thoughts.

“What’s the point?” Adrien wanted to cry. “She told me that she loves me, but I’m not so sure that she does anymore.”

“Wait!” Holding up a hand, Alya had silenced the room with one word. “You’re kidding! That’s what happened? That’s why my girls been wigging out for months?”

Careful to avoid talking about the other reveal from that night, Adrien continued. “Yeah. It was a few months ago. I don’t think she meant to tell me.”

“Did you reject her or something?”

“No, not at all! I was overjoyed when I found out, but she ran away before I could respond.”

“That explains so much.”

He buried his face in his hands. “Maybe I’m scaring her off or something? I don’t know. Can you help me?”

Taking a seat next to him, Alya put a hand on his shoulder. “Would you like me to talk to her first? I can try to calm her down enough for you to talk to her.”

Hope fluttered in his chest. “That would be great. Thank you so much!”

He had the best friends.

“Wait here, Sunshine.” She hopped off of the couch and disappeared into her bedroom.

It felt like hours before Alya finally returned with the go-ahead for him to enter the room. He hopped off the couch, approached the door, and gave a tentative knock. His heart did backflips when he heard the soft “come in” from the other side of the door.

He turned the knob, slowly peeked his head in, and scanned the room. His elation was quickly replaced by concern when his eyes landed on a teary and disheveled Marinette sitting on the edge of the bed.

Despite the towel wrapped around her shoulders, she was still soaking wet with red punch. She looked miserable, and Adrien wanted nothing more than to wrap her in his arms and tell her that everything would be alright. But he was just here to talk.

Only talking.

For now.

“Hey,” he called out, closing the door behind him.

She sniffled and wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand. “Hi.”

He was pleasantly surprised when Marinette didn’t react as he crossed the room and took a seat next to her on the bed. So far so good.

Without thinking, his words tumbled out. “Marinette, we really need to talk.”

Her head shot up, and she turned to look at him. Her bottom lip trembled, and fresh tears streamed down her cheeks.

“I’m sorry,” she croaked out, “I messed everything up!”

“What?” Adrien couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “How?”

“Not only did I fail as Ladybug and reveal my identity, but I made everything awkward between us!”

“But you didn’t make anything awkward! I did!”

“No, it's my fault! Not yours. I’ve turned you down for two years because I was in love with you as a civilian. I ruined everything!”

“Oh, Marinette, no. Finding out about your crush was the greatest thing that ever happened to me...well, right after learning that my lady and the coolest girl I know are the same person.”

The corners of her mouth twitched into a smile. “Really?”

“Yeah, really.” He nodded. “I love you, Marinette.”

“You do?”

“I love you so much, and I’ve been trying to tell you for months. I didn’t think I could love a person more than I loved Ladybug, and then she turned out to be you, and I’ve never been so happy to have been proven wrong.”

“And all this time, I thought you were going to get mad at me.”

“Mad at you? No! Not at all!” He couldn’t help but laugh. “I’m overjoyed, but you kept running away from me, and you split up our patrol routes. I thought you were mad at me for telling you that I figured out your identity.”

“You thought I was mad at you?” She sobbed into her hands. “This really is a disaster.”

Screw it.

He was in love with her.

He couldn’t let her sit there and cry.

In one swift motion, Adrien leaned over, wrapped his arms around her, and pulled her into an embrace. She momentarily stiffened before collapsing against his chest and continuing to cry.

Hoping to calm her down before any purple butterflies paid them a visit, Adrien rubbed her back with his palm. “I’m not mad. I promise. I love you so much.”

“I love you, too.” Her voice was small and thick with tears, but they were the sweetest words he’d ever heard.

They sat in silence, allowing him to revel in the embrace. When Marinette eventually calmed down, she snuggled into his chest. It was a good thing that he wasn’t standing because if he had been, he would have definitely fallen over. She was so close and so beautiful. He could hardly contain his joy.

It was a beautiful moment that he wished could last forever...until she shivered.

Oh, right. She was covered in punch.

Here he was, enjoying the moment, letting his (hopefully) soon-to-be girlfriend freeze in wet clothes.

Refusing to let go, he rested his forehead against hers. “Hey, what do you say we get out of here?”

She shook her head. “But...it’s almost midnight, and I think Alya is expecting us to rejoin the party.”

“I think she’ll let it slide.” He placed a gentle kiss on her cheek. “After all, we wouldn’t want one of Paris’ heroes to get sick, right?”

Marinette giggled. “Yeah, okay.”

She was too cute.

The sound of her laughter was more beautiful than a symphony, and he would do anything to hear it again. He pulled her to her feet and laced his fingers between hers. They managed to leave the party without any qualms from their friends, and soon they found themselves standing on the sidewalk in the cold winter air.

When her teeth started chattering, his grip tightened around her hand before he quickly dragged her into an alley.

“Adrien!” she squeaked, “What are you doing?”

“Plagg, CLAWS OUT!” His transformation illuminated the space around them. “My lady, would you allow me the honor of escorting you home?”

She giggled again. “What’s gotten into you, you silly cat?”

He almost melted on the spot. She was going to kill him. Adrien was but a mere mortal. How was he supposed to survive if she kept being so freaking adorable?

“I’m taking you home the express route.” He held out his hand. “If you’ll let me, that is.”

She nodded and took a step toward him. Adrien swept her into his arms, knees nearly giving out when she wrapped her arms around the back of his neck.

All too soon, they touched down on her balcony; however, even after he lowered her feet to the ground, she didn’t let go.

Goodness, he was so in love.

“We should really get you inside,” he whispered, resting his hands on her waist. “You should put on some dry clothes.”

“Not yet.” She bit her lip as she looked up and met his gaze. “It was soaking wet when I fell in love with you, so it’s only fitting that I’m covered with punch when I do this.

He swallowed. “D-do what?”

Her hands cupped his face as she drew closer. “This.”

The world came to a screeching halt as her lips met his. Her fingers moved to the back of his head, deepening the kiss. It was everything he’d ever dreamed of and more. Her breath became his lifeline, his soul dreading the moment they had to part.

They smiled under the kiss, causing their teeth to clack and their noses to bump, but it was perfect nonetheless. This was his lady, the girl under the mask he swore he’d love no matter what.

When they pulled apart, they fell into a laughing heap on the ground. Cheers erupted around them as fireworks lit up the sky. It was as if the universe itself was celebrating with them.

“I guess that’s one way to ring in the New Year.” She turned her head towards the sky. “This year, we should definitely kiss like that every day.”

“I think that’s one resolution I can definitely keep.” He kissed her forehead. “And maybe we could even kiss more than once a day?”

“I’d like that.” She grabbed his bell and pulled him down to her level. “Let’s start now.”

Adrien was more than happy to oblige.

[alecmagnuslwb]

Rent a Holidate

Read on AO3

Magnus is barely paying attention as his father blathers on about his annual Thanksgiving party. It’s the same as every year, food made by an overpaid chef, schmoosing clients and Magnus being expected to attend and behave.

They don’t even really celebrate Thanksgiving and it’s definitely not about family coming together to be thankful for the things they have and the love they share, it’s a way for his father to impress his clients with the size of his house and the happy little family picture that he, whoever his latest wife is and Magnus make. It’s a fake night, filled with fake rich people that Magnus loathes more and more every single year.

There’s a pause on his fathers end of the line and Magnus scrambles assuming he was asked some sort of question.

“Yes, of course,” he says hoping that’s the right answer. Evidently it’s neutral considering his father’s monotonous response.

“Fine then, I hope that he or she will be an acceptable date for the evening,” his father says. Oh shit, he thinks, did I just agree to bring a date to this thing?

For a moment he considers backtracking saying he won’t be bringing anyone, it’s not like he’s been on so much as a half decent date in over a year, but he knows his father, once you’ve said something you act on it, no turning back. So instead he grits his teeth and accepts he’ll be bullshitting his way through an emergency excuse to why his fake partner couldn’t attend the night of.

“He is very acceptable,” Magnus says faux cheery conjuring up a fake boyfriend in his head. Not that any partner of his could be deemed acceptable by his father, his father even finds his own career path teaching English at NYU to be an underperformance.

“It’s not Columbia,” he always says whenever Magnus talks about his work.

“Well, then I look forward to meeting him,” his father says not at all sounding like he’s looking forward to it. Which is good considering Magnus’ supposed boyfriend is a complete fabrication. “I’ll see you in a week.”

And just like that he hangs up, no goodbye, nothing.

Magnus sighs tossing his phone into the graded paper box on his desk and begins crafting a personality and profession for his fake boyfriend just in case he needs a more solid alibi.

***

Magnus laments his woes to Dot and Catarina later that night, it’s Thursday which means mimosas and movies.

“Part of me just wants to make up an excuse and be done with it, it’s not like he’ll even remember in a week’s time after the fact that I ever even had a supposed boyfriend,” Magnus says pausing to take a sip of his mimosa. “The other part of me just wants to bring the world’s worst date and embarrass him to no end.”

“You mean Camille wasn’t the world’s worst date?” Dot says curling up in the chair beside Cat with her own mimosa in hand.

“Camille was the world’s worst date, but she never was one to make a scene, she was quietly and privately terrible,” Magnus says moving quickly past the topic of his wicked ex. “I mean someone who’s not a bad person, just kind of a mess.”

“Why don’t you hire the guy Dot hired last year for her family reunion?” Cat says not even bothering to look up from her phone as she scrolls reading reviews for the movie they’re about to watch.

“Yeah he was great,” Dot says agreeing with Cat’s suggestion. “His names Alec. He can’t play straight to save his life which made it even better because my whole family was convinced I was not only dating a worthless degenerate, but a worthless degenerate gay man. Hilarious, honestly.”

She pulls up something on her phone and hands it to Magnus. It’s a Craigslist ad titled, Alone on Thanksgiving? Mad at your dad? Tired of your family’s absurd expectations?

He takes the phone reading the post entirely.

My name is Alec Lightwood, I’m a 28 year old almost felon who went to college for three weeks before dropping out. I have a Thunderbird that’s only a year younger than me painted like Eddie Van Halen’s red guitar. It’s hideous and embarrassing and I love it. I can play anywhere between the ages of 23 to 32 depending on if I shave. I’m a bartender and occasional bouncer when the need requires, I haven’t been seen not in a leather jacket with a tear in the back since high school, I’m gay and very bad at hiding it and I’ve even got an eyebrow scar that’s sure to raise a few eyebrows (get it, raise a few eyebrows).

If you’d like to have me as your strictly platonic date for a gathering of some sort, but have me pretend to be in a very serious relationship with you to torment your family, I’m game.

I can do these things at your request:

-        Openly hit on other guests while you act like you don’t notice (of any gender, I may be gay but I can embarrassingly hit on anyone even if it’s not convincing).

 -        Start instigative discussions about politics and/or religion (sports are off the table however unless your family are big into the Rangers or Islanders, then I can talk shit for days.)

 -        Propose to you in front of everyone and you tearily accept or you turn me down and I proceed to have a breakdown, but we resolve to work on our relationship much to your family’s chagrin.

 -        Pretend to be increasingly drunk as the evening goes on (sorry, I don’t actually drink anymore, but I used to. A lot. Too much in fact. I know the drill.)

 -        Start a screaming match with a family member, that could come to blows (but no one will be physically harmed, I promise) either inside or on the front lawn (if there is one) for all the neighbors to see.

I require no pay but the free food I will receive as a guest at any event!

We can meet prior to the event somewhere public and you can ask me any questions. And I mean any questions so that you feel safe.

-        Do NOT contact with unsolicited services or offers. Email me at: lightwoodarcher@gmail.com

“Um, he’s a felon?” Magnus says looking up from the phone when he’s done.

“Hey, don’t judge, you’re not exactly rap sheet free,” Dot says scolding him with a smile. Which okay, he does have a few arrests on his record, petty little things and pick-ups at a protest or two, but felonies are a bit above that. He says that aloud. “Also, as it says he’s technically an almost felon.”

“He’s not a murderer or anything, I had Raphael check out his history before I requested his services,” Dot continues on to explain, referring to their friend who’s a prosecutor. “He got picked up for aggravated assault after he caught the guy who got his sister hooked on drugs in her bed shooting her up, it was a bullshit charge from a snake of a man who deserved every hit he got. The charges were ultimately dropped and settled when the piece of shit he beat up got hit with about ten felonies himself. He’s a good guy, like a really good guy I promise.”

“Didn’t Raphael even stress that he never would have convicted Alec in a million years on the charges?” Cat says getting up from her seat and heading to the kitchen to refill her mimosa glass.

Dot nods taking a sip of her drink. “He did, he said any jury would have sided with him over the 30 year old drug pusher preying on an 18 year old girl. And even though we can’t tell him, because we don’t want him to smirk about it all the time and get a big head, we both know Raphael is the best judge of character and lawyer in America.”

It’s true, Raphael always knows what he’s talking about.

“Plus,” Dot continues on. “Alec’s very upfront about it, I didn’t even need to do the background check he told me exactly what went down when we met for coffee before the event, even brought his sister along to corroborate and make me feel comfortable.”

“Wow,” Magnus says genuinely surprised by the decency of a man on the internet.

“Also, he’s very cute,” Dot smirks over the rim of her glass waggling her eyebrows in Magnus’ direction.

Magnus rolls his eyes. “I don’t think it matters if my fake date is cute.”

“So you’re gonna do it?” Catarina says coming back in the room, a pitcher filled to the brim with mimosa mix in her hand.

Magnus bites his lip in thought as he looks down at the phone in his hand again. He does want to cause a ruckus, he’s tired of being the perfect little son when his father needs him to be. And Alec Lightwood might just be able to provide the exact ruckus he’s looking for.

“What the hell,” he mutters before tossing Dot’s phone to her. “Do I need to email him, or do you still have his number?”

Dot smiles in delight as she taps on her phone his own phone buzzing in his pocket a second later with Alec’s number.

***

Alec keeps his text exchanges simple, offering to meet Magnus the following afternoon after Magnus’ noon class for coffee. Alec lets Magnus choose everything, clearly dedicated to making the person contacting him as comfortable as possible. Luckily for Magnus Alec’s had no inquiries for this Thanksgiving, except for one that was definitely unsavory and he turned down immediately.

With such short notice Magnus thought for sure this might not work out.

He walks in scanning the shop looking for Alec and comes up empty based on Dot’s description of him. He gets in line and orders a drink finding a table off to the side where it’s not too crowded to sit and wait. He’s barely settled into his seat when the chime above the door rings and in walks a stunner with long legs and dark hair.

The man pauses scanning the room, then his eyes land on Magnus his lips tilt up just a bit and he walks over his way.

“Magnus Bane?” he says in question when he reaches the table. Magnus is speechless for a moment as the sun catches in the man’s hazel eyes and on the tiny silver hoops in his ears. He shakes himself from the trance he’s in, ignoring the way his eyes shine a little greener when he tilts his head and nods his own head in confirmation.

“Alec Lightwood?”

“That’s me,” the man says with a smile that crinkles at the edges just a bit, he reaches out a hand that Magnus takes shaking it instantly enjoying the contrast of Alec’s cold fingers to his warm ones. Magnus squeezes his hand once before letting go. “I’m just gonna go get a drink and then we can talk,” Alec says stepping back with a tentative, but dazzling smile.

Magnus watches him go enjoying the view of his long legs in motion. He spots the tear in the back of his leather jacket, just like mentioned in his ad, and smiles. Alec comes back moments later a mug of black coffee in hang.

“So you need a bad date for Thanksgiving,” he says tearing open an obscene amount of sugar packets and pouring them into his mug. “I’m guessing before we get into that though, you want to know about the almost felony?”

Magnus shakes his head and Alec looks at him quizzically for a moment, before the puzzle pieces in his mind clearly fall into place.

“Dot,” he says in understanding. “She must have told you everything.”

“She did,” Magnus confirms taking a sip of his drink. “And for the record it sounds like you were in the right.”

Alec smiles a small uncertain smile almost like he’s not sure that’s the truth, but takes the words as a compliment anyways.

“It wasn’t my finest moment, I guess I’m just overprotective when it comes to people I love,” he says running his fingers along the rim of his mug.

“Getting a drug predator away from your sister isn’t just being overprotective, it’s doing the right thing,” he says genuine. He remembers when they were in high school and Raphael had his run with a bad crowd, it never came to it, but he would have done the same thing Alec did if the situation had presented itself.

Alec just shrugs looking off to the side. Magnus sees the uncomfortable set in his shoulders and shifts the conversation.

“You come highly recommended, Dot says you put on one hell of a show at her family reunion,” he says with a bright smile.

Alec’s shoulders ease and he turns back to Magnus with a smile.

“Dot barely needed me, she put on a performance just as stunning, I’ve never seen a woman so small body tackle so many people during what’s supposed to be a friendly game of tag,” he says with a chuckle.

Magnus has heard all about Dot’s deadly game and seen the bruises she proudly displayed from her somewhat violent performance first hand.

“Believe me it’s not the first time she’s tackled down a full-grown man,” Magnus says with a laugh fondly remembering a frat party, an unsuspecting frat boy and a fateful game of beer pong from many years ago.

“Somehow that does not surprise me,” Alec says rubbing a hand across his dark beard. The conversation shifts from there, Magnus giving Alec the full rundown about his father, his current stepmother and the all too haughty evening they’ll be subjected to.

Conversation flows easy between them, Alec seeming to understand a lot of Magnus’ struggles with his family life and Magnus finds himself wondering if there’s more to why he does this bit of charity for people in need.

“So, why exactly is it you do this?” Magnus asks, clarifying quickly when Alec raises his eyebrow in question. They’ve covered the felony yes and it’s clear that Alec just simply cares, but that’s not a full reason why. “I mean I believe that you’re just a genuinely good person who wants to help people, but it’s deeper than that isn’t it?”

Alec pauses for a moment rubbing the back of his neck nervously, Magnus is about to tell him he doesn’t have to explain if it’s an uncomfortable topic just as Alec starts to talk.

“I’m gay,” he says and Magnus smirks, the obviously on the tip of his tongue. Alec picks up on it smiling back. “Obviously, but for a long time I couldn’t be, or at least not at home. My parents are kind of rich, they’d do these big to do holiday parties every year for Thanksgiving and Christmas. When my siblings and I were little they were just big boring adult parties that we’d steal food from. Then we all got old enough to date and to have plans for the future.”

Magnus hums in understanding. That’s how his father’s parties had been, one day he was a kid just stealing cookies and hating the droll grown ups and the next he was a man expected to present himself in certain ways, ways that weren’t remotely who he was.

“By the time I was 21 I was still in the closet, and already on their shit list for dropping out of college, and I never dated and my parents were just determined to find me a wife. Every year it was so and so’s daughter is lovely and has such a strong education or so and so’s daughter is coming and I can’t wait for you to meet her,” he says twisting the coffee mug between his hands. “I’m pretty sure those holiday parties are how my drinking got so bad, forced heterosexuality and an open bar do not mix well together.”

He chuckles and Magnus takes that as an invitation to do the same. Again he gets it, he’s taken his fair advantage of the open bar at his father’s parties many times.

“And then one year my dad was going on about some girl who was at Thanksgiving dinner, I don’t even remember her name, but she was standing there and the whole time he’s talking about how she’s so pretty and so ready to start a family and I should make a move before someone else did. And I was losing my mind internally and evidently I’d had just enough to drink that I just screamed at the top of my lungs that I was gay.”

He pauses taking the last sip of his coffee.

“And then I just left after my mom was trying to talk to me about causing a scene. Then Christmas rolls around and to my extreme shock I get the invite. I thought for sure I was in for the lecture I’d been avoiding for a month, but instead they just acted like Thanksgiving hadn’t even happened,” he shakes his head. “They invited some other poor girl to try and marry me off to and just went on like I hadn’t had a big, gay outburst. My outburst was a lot bigger that time, after that I didn’t get any more party invites, they just cut me out entirely.”

Magnus reaches out resting his hand on Alec’s that’s drumming on the table. “I’m so sorry, Alexander,” he says trying out the full name for the first time guessing that’s what Alec is short for. He likes the way it rolls off his tongue and judging from the way Alec doesn’t correct him he ventures he got it right.

Alec just shrugs with a sad little smile on his lips. “It’s okay,” he says. “I mean it wasn’t back then, but I’m okay now. I don’t need my parents or their money, my siblings are still in my life and I’ve got a whole life outside of that. I can have my gay outbursts in peace now.”

Magnus laughs squeezing his hand once before pulling back, he’s been resting it there much too long now.

They talk logistics after that, establishing a plan for the holiday dinner. Alec immediately offers to bring his Thunderbird to drive to Magnus’ father’s place upstate.

“I don’t have the car not to be embarrassing about it,” he says and Magnus smiles insisting he pays for the gas then.

He spends almost three hours and four coffees with Alec and eventually finds they’re not even talking about the dinner in question, but they’re just talking instead.

It’s an unexpected development.

***

Coffee with Alec goes all too well and by the end of it they have a carefully cultivated story about how they met and how long they’ve supposedly been together all set in stone. Alec ensures him he’ll be the ultimate, best bad boyfriend for the night, and frankly Magnus is having a hard time believing it.

Alec is sweet, kind without even realizing it and looks like the living embodiment of tall, dark and handsome. If Magnus is being honest he’d love to take him out sometime as a real date more than a bad boyfriend for the night.

He calls Dot after they’ve said their goodbyes, walking to his apartment not far from the coffee shop.

“So how’d it go?” Dot asks immediately upon answering the phone.

“He’s incredibly charming without trying to be and cute is a fucking understatement, Dorothea,” he says looking both ways before crossing to the other side of the street.

Dot chuckles wildly on the other side.

“I’m serious, if I was given the opportunity to craft a man based on looks alone I’m pretty sure he’d be what I’d create, he’s gorgeous,” Magnus says as he reaches his building going inside and heading for the elevator.

“I may have undersold him slightly,” Dot says sounding all too innocent.

“And was there a reason for that, my dear?” he says. He’s starting to feel like he’s being set up.

“Perhaps,” she says and he can hear the gleeful smile in her voice. “You can thank me later, for now just enjoy your bad boyfriend.”

***

Five days later on the last Thursday of the month, Magnus waits outside of his apartment for Alec and at three o’clock on the dot Alec’s truly ridiculous car pulls up. It’s even better in person than he described.

The black, red and white lines are exactly like Eddie Van Halen’s infamous guitar and the ’93 Thunderbird is just on the right side of beat up. The left taillight is busted, covered in see through tape and there’s a sizeable dent in the passenger side door.

Alec steps out of the car, a vision in his signature leather jacket, black jeans with far too many tears and dark eyeliner around his eyes. It’s not neat like Magnus’ though, it’s messy. His whole look from his disheveled, but neat hair, to his trimmed beard to his scuffed boots is just on the right side of acceptable, but screams of a wild side as well.

Magnus isn’t as black tie as he knows his father would like him to be, wearing a deep red shirt and tight pants with a line down the side, his perfectly styled hair, curly and soft with matching red streaks running through it. They make a pretty attractive pair if Magnus does say so himself.

Magnus can’t wait to see how the evening plays out.

Alec smiles at him coming over to open the passenger side door, it takes a couple tugs to get it open.

“It’s a little finicky,” he says playfully bowing and gesturing for Magnus to get inside. “Your chariot awaits.”

Magnus smiles stepping into the car. Alec shuts the door tight rounding the car and falling into his seat.

“Ready to cause a scene?” Alec says with a devilish smile that Magnus finds hard to resist.

“Absolutely,” he says with his own answering smile as Alec turns the key and peels out onto the road.

***

The ride up takes about two hours all told with holiday traffic and every minute of it is delightful. Alec tells him more about himself, outside of the surface stuff they’d covered to make sure Magnus was comfortable with this whole night.

He learns Alec loves archery, has an affinity for trash shows like the Bachelor and has a vicious little cat he adores named Church. Magnus gives his own tidbits in return about his work at the university and his love of bad horror movies, laughing when Alec suggests their fiendish cats might just get along.

Magnus laughs just as they pull up outside of his father’s home, “Chairman doesn’t exactly play well with others.”

Alec shrugs. “Neither does Church, that’s why it’d be fun,” he says with a smile pulling his eyes away from Magnus looking up at the sprawling house before them. He slows the car to a stop pulling into a spot that makes the car perfectly visible from the wall of windows that line the living room where all the guests won’t be able to miss it.

“Damn,” Alec says as he steps out of the car, Magnus joins him where he’s leaning back against the front of his Thunderbird. His car looks amazingly out of place and perfectly hilarious parked between a silver Porsche and a sleek black Lamborghini. “Your father’s in real estate you said?”

“Amongst other things,” Magnus grumbles looking at the house that was always too big, that always felt hollow and empty to Magnus when they moved here after his mother skipped town.

“It’s way too big,” Alec says with a grimace looking it over one last time before offering his arm to Magnus. Magnus takes it guiding him to the front door. “And there’s way too many fucking windows.”

Magnus chuckles as they reach the door opening it automatically and walking in. The space is gaudier than the last time he was there, the walls where once his father and stepmother number four’s portraits used to hang now feature the latest wife and sadly the one of him that his father had commissioned years ago. It’s the last time he’d agreed to sit for one of his gaudy paintings, he’s young, barely 20 wearing a stiff suit and barely any makeup, he doesn’t look like him at all.

“Well that’s a painting,” Alec says looking at it. “I like this you better,” he says eyeing Magnus up and down. Whether he meant to or not there’s a lingering in the look, Magnus likes it. “That looks like somebody trying to be something they’re not.”

And just like that with one look at a painting, Alec nails him right on the head. Like he can read Magnus easily, a thing that just about no one can do.

“Come on,” Magnus says pulling Alec along down the garish hallway that leads to the large expanse of the living room. There’s a new chandelier hanging in the hall, riddled in way too many gems. He bets it’s a feature added by the new wife.

“Maggie!” a woman’s voice yells, speak of the devil, he rolls his eyes at the nickname no matter how many times he’s told her to drop it she just won’t. “Happy Thanksgiving!”

His stepmother comes bouncing over their way, her ridiculously high heels clacking against the hardwood floor. He can hear his father sigh from the other side of the room, more concerned with his precious oak floors than anything else in the world.

Magnus braces himself as she barrels into him hugging him tight, she releases him with a smile before turning to Alec and doing the same.

Alec’s eyes go wide in surprise, no matter how much Magnus described her to him there’s no preparing for hurricane Marissa. She pulls back adjusting her very not appropriate for the setting tight pink and black strapless dress with a smile, her fake tan looks a little lighter than usual and he’s weirdly proud of her for that.

“And who is this?” she asks reaching out to adjust Magnus’ shirt collar that she crumpled when hugging him.

“This is my boyfriend, Alec,” he says gesturing his way. “Alec this is my father’s wife, Marissa.”

Marissa playfully pats Magnus’ cheek, “Stepmother.” She says it pointedly holding out a hand to quickly shake Alec’s. He will never refer to her as his stepmother out loud, much like the past four wives Magnus bets Marissa will be gone in five years’ time tops, his own mother hadn’t even stuck around that long. Also, she’s 25, five years younger than him, and there’s no way he’s referring to her as anything remotely close to a mother.

“It’s lovely to have you in our home,” Marissa says to Alec gesturing to the room at large. Magnus looks around at the room full of people, most of whom he doesn’t remotely recognize. A few seem somewhat familiar in the most unmemorable sense. He’s sure they’re constant clients and rich cohorts of his father’s that have attended before.

“That it is,” his father’s voice says coming up behind his wife. He rests one hand on her shoulder and holds out another Alec’s way. “Asmodeus Bane.”

“Alec Lightwood,” he says a perfect gentleman returning his father’s handshake. They’d agreed to keep it civil for at the least the first introduction and then let the evening escalate from there. Magnus can tell just from looking at it his father’s grip is tight, commanding and borderline threatening, but Alec doesn’t even flinch.

“Lightwood, hm?” his father says eyeing Alec up and down frowning and Magnus can tell he already disapproves of what he sees. “Any relation to the Lightwood Consulting company?”

“Yes,” Alec says and Magnus smiles when he sees his father’s lips uptick in an impressed smile that immediately falls at Alec’s next words. “But they cut me out and off years ago, I’m the black sheep of the family if you will.”

Asmodeus just hums disappointed. “Well, that’s a shame,” he says. “So, how did you meet my son?” he asks not bothering with anymore small talk now that he’s already decided Alec’s no good, just jumping right in to the things he can criticize.

“Prison,” Alec jokes and Marissa titters delightfully. She quickly stops when Asmodeus looks at her disappointedly. “Just kidding,” he says. “I did my time there years ago, no we met at a bar.”

Asmodeus bristles at the prison mention, which is technically a lie, Alec only spent a few hours in a cell back when he was arrested, but his father clearly buys it as more. Magnus can tell he’s tuning out the rest of their crafted meet cute story, all about how three months ago Alec had a few too many drinks and almost got into a fight and Magnus had been his stalwart knight in shining armor.

“Love at first sight,” Marissa sighs clearly enjoying their made up tale. “Isn’t it sweet, Asmody?” she coos tugging on his father’s arm.

“Yes, quite sweet,” Asmodeus grimaces gripping his wife’s arm and pulling her away. “We’ll talk later.” He says looking directly at Magnus, essentially and completely dismissing Alec’s presence all together before stepping away. Marissa grins wide waving at them as she goes her long pink acrylic nails clicking together as she does so. Marissa may not be the brightest or subtlest bulb, but at least unlike many of Asmodeus’ past wives she’s nice enough.

“Well damn, do I even need to do anything else? He seems disappointed enough already,” Alec says shaking his head in disbelief.

“Now, where would the fun in that be,” Magnus says with a smirk, shrugging off his jacket. Alec follows suit and Magnus admires the view of his arms in a short sleeved well-fitting white button up shirt. His love of archery has made for some nicely toned muscle.

***

They mingle for a bit after Magnus deposits their coats in one of the coat closets, Magnus putting on his best son of the year smile while Alec downs glasses of water that everyone thinks is vodka at a fairly speedy rate.

It’d been his first task when they’d rejoined the party walking over to the bar with a smile.

“I need you to fill a bottle or two of vodka with water and keep serving me all night,” he said to the bored and disgruntled looking woman behind the counter. The rest of the hired help for the night must have been sequestered away in the kitchen until dinner judging by her being the first one that Magnus had spotted.

“You planning something weird tonight?” she questioned sliding Magnus a glass of red wine.

“Not weird, just disruptive,” Alec said so kind and so believable that the girl perked up.

“Well I love to see rich people who call me barkeep unironically disrupted, so you got it,” she said with a smile discreetly pouring out a bottle and refilling it with water before handing a glass to Alec as he dumped a sizeable wad of cash into her completely empty tip jar. God, rich people were cheap.

She’s been steadily serving him since.

Now they find themselves with a man who has to be bordering on 200 years old and it seems Alec decides it’s time to truly get to work.

“All that glitters,” the old man says talking about something that they’ve clearly both been tuning out.

“Glitters?” Alec says a little too loud, just enough so that everyone in their vicinity can hear. “You mean the place on 5th? My ex used to dance there, maybe you saw him, man knew how to work a pole if you know what I mean?” he winks at the old man and Magnus just barely stifles his laughter as the old man steps back in shock. He mumbles something unintelligible looking suddenly ill and paler than he had before and slips away.

Alec tosses back his drink and hands it to a passing woman in a truly hideous pantsuit that is definitely not a server, dragging Magnus along to the table of appetizers. He tosses shrimp into his mouth not bothering with a napkin, rubbing his hands on his ripped-up jeans making direct eye contact with a young woman, no doubt another trophy wife, as he does so. She scrunches up her nose and steps away.

Evidently despite his fairly small work so far he’s made just enough of a scene to garner Asmodeus’ attention once again.

“So, Alec, I assume that colorful vehicle outside is yours?” he says walking up beside the two of them. Their bartender and conspirator comes up just then handing Alec a fresh glass.

Alec smiles at her, before turning to Asmodeus. He’s not acting drunk yet, but he’s bordering on behaving tipsy.

He slings an arm over Magnus’ shoulder and brings him in close. Magnus settles a hand at Alec’s waste enjoying the proximity.

“Yes, that is my sweet Cherry,” he says naming the car on the spot. “Won her in a poker game when I was 18, crashed her three days later and have been patching her back together ever since.”

“A poker game?” Asmodeus questions, clearly becoming more disappointed by the minute.

“Yup,” he says cheerfully popping the p in the word. “Well, I wouldn’t say won directly, more cheated a guy and then fought him for it,” he pauses gesturing to the little sliced scar that runs through his left eyebrow. “That’s how I got this.”

“You wouldn’t believe how many tire irons a high school principal is carrying around,” Alec continues with a snort tossing back half of his drink.

Magnus just nods along in agreement to Alec’s concocted tale. He actually bought the car from his sister’s ex-boyfriend when he was nineteen for 200 bucks, but this story shocks far more.

“You mean to say you fought your principal for your car?” Asmodeus says judgement so very clear in his voice.

“High school, am I right?” Alec shrugs with a chuckle smiling down into his drink. Asmodeus looks appalled.

“Oh, come on don’t look like that father,” Magnus says placing his free hand on Alec’s chest and patting there lightly. Magnus can’t help but notice how solid the chest under his hand is. “I got up to some trouble in high school myself, surely you remember.”

Asmodeus just hums, clearly finding Magnus’ occasional wild parties without permission a dull comparison to the tale Alec just told.

“Never forget the time I streaked and jumped from the guest house roof to the trampoline and right into the pool, nearly broke my arm in the process,” Magnus says with a smile. Alec leans over burying his face in Magnus’ hair, careful not to mess it up, whether it’s to play up the PDA or stifle a laugh Magnus isn’t sure.

They’d had a whole conversation about PDA, Alec promising to respect his boundaries, no kissing and never a hand wandering beneath his waist.

“How could I forget,” Asmodeus says sharply embarrassed by his son’s antics. He turns towards the large windows and looks out to where the porch patio lights illuminate Alec’s car.

“It is so sexy that you did that,” Alec says ignoring Asmodeus and turning towards Magnus. He downs the rest of his drink and meet’s Magnus’ eyes, a question and idea brewing clear in them. Magnus smirks tugging at Alec’s shirt.

“You think so?” he says teasingly.

“Mm hmm,” Alec says biting his lip and Magnus knows this is all a part of the show, but god are those lips tempting.

Magnus catches Asmodeus turning his attention back to them looking outright furious. Magnus pulls away from Alec’s eyes and smiles a bright smile like they’re doing absolutely nothing wrong.

“I’m gonna give Alec the tour,” he says leadingly pulling Alec along by both hands and rushing away from the living room and down the hall before Asmodeus can say a word. He can see Alec’s smirk as he notices the stares of the other guests in the room.

Magnus doesn’t even pay attention to where they’re going as he pulls them into a room just off the right side of the hall.

“How’d you actually get that scar?” Magnus asks once they’re inside shutting the door behind him, no doubt convincing everyone they’re about to get down and dirty.

“Took a hockey stick to the face when I was 17,” he says pulling himself to sit up on a desk. A desk that Magnus now recognizes as his fathers. They’ve pulled themselves into his father’s office and if they get caught in here he’ll never hear the end of it, he loves it.

“You played hockey?” Magnus asks lifting himself up to sit beside Alec on the desk ignoring the papers he accidentally topples to the ground.

Alec nods in the affirmative. “I did, that’s why it’s the only sport I can start heckling fights about, everything else is boring.”

Magnus snorts at that, he’s never been partial to any sport himself.

“Did you really do what you said out there?” Alec asks picking up a notepad and flipping through it mindlessly.

“I did,” Magnus smiles and Alec’s eyebrows both go up. “Don’t look so surprised, you’re not the only one capable of mischief.”

“Oh, I see that,” he says with a smile tossing the notepad back to where he found it. “That is kinda sexy you achieved a jump like that and didn’t get hurt.” He says it with his voice low and all sorts of New York around the edges. He freezes his hand stopping over the spot where he’d been about to pick up the ugly green and bronze sphere shaped paper weight beside him.

Magnus freezes too, Alec saying something like that while they’re alone makes it real, not like the fake flirty way he’d said it out in the living room.

“Sorry, that’s not, I’m sorry, I never cross that line when I do these things, we’re alone and,” Alec runs a frustrated hand through his hair. “Fuck, I’m sorry.”

Magnus shakes his head reaching out and tentatively laying his hand atop Alec’s where it rests on the desk between them.

“It’s okay,” he says and Alec looks at him ready to argue the point. Magnus jumps in stopping him before he can say a word and taking his own leap into making this far more real than fake. “Really, it’s okay. You, uh, you’re not so bad yourself.”

Alec huffs a laugh opening and closing his mouth a few times like he’s looking for the right words to say. The space between them feels a little charged now that they’ve floated out the simple fact there’s a real attraction here. Alec closes his mouth and bites his lip looking determined like he knows what to say finally when the door busts open.

“Oh, my apologies boys,” Marissa says standing in the doorway her hands on her hips and a pleased little smile on her lips. “But dinner is served.”

Magnus and Alec pull away from one another quickly hopping off the desk and stepping towards the door.

“You two are just too cute,” Marissa says when they reach her. She loops each of her arms through one of theirs and tugs them down the hall happily. “Don’t listen to a word your father says.”

Magnus meets Alec’s eyes over her head only to find Alec already looking at him, a soft smile on his lips.

***

Magnus takes his proverbial spot on his father’s right at the head of the table, Marissa doing the same on his left. Despite Asmodeus’ clear attempt to keep Alec as far away from him and Magnus as possible by seating him at the far end of the long table he fails. Luckily one of Marissa’s friends, just as airy and tight dressed as her is seated next to Magnus and happily swaps spots with Alec.

Alec lifts his drink to Asmodeus in a faux toast that Asmodeus doesn’t even feign interest in as he takes his seat.

Dinner is served and it’s to be expected. The sweet potatoes are divine none of that weird marshmallow bullshit in them, the mac and cheese is literally to die for and the homemade bread hits in just the right way. The turkey is terrible, but that’s not at the fault of the overpriced chef that’s just simply because it’s an indisputable fact that turkey tastes like napkins.

Alec eats so much Magnus is concerned, he can tell from the tight fit of his shirt that Alec is in impeccable shape so he doesn’t really know where he puts it all as he goes for his fourth serving of mac and cheese.

But long before his fourth serving of cheesy goodness Alec starts up at least three debates that would be deemed far too impolite for their supposed polite company. Each fresh serving he corners someone new into a debate; first it’s an old lady in a pantsuit pulled into a debate about the existence of god, then a forty something who looks like he’s never seen a rainbow without feeling threatened into a talk on the merits of teaching queer history to children and finally a woman who can’t be much older than them who looks like her name is Tinsley or Ainsleigh or something equally as nauseating into a tense bordering on yelling match about the importance of safe abortion access.

He sounds a little more drunk with every conversation and he’s damn good at faking it. He sounds just the right amount of inebriated not slurring his words too much or fumbling around with his silverware, it’s practiced, a master class in being drunk without being drunk. Most people overplay it acting far more outlandish than a drunk person sitting at a table would, but Alec has it down pact.

Magnus watches him not a care in the world, acting like he doesn’t even notice the disruption Alec is causing. The only person aside from Magnus that doesn’t look increasingly more uncomfortable by the minute is Marissa who looks like she’s having the time of her life watching these stuffy rich people squirm.

Asmodeus of course does not look delighted, he barely eats, just scowls over the rim of his wine glass and attempts to deflect any conversation Alec purposely instigates another way unsuccessfully.

The only time he seems to look like he’s not about to have a coronary is when everyone’s plates are finally collected, Alec still shoveling the last bit of mashed potatoes on his plate into his mouth as one of the waiters lifts the plate away from him, and it’s announced that dinner and coffee will be served in the living room.

Alec stands stretching his arms up over his head and Magnus admires the ripple of his muscles as he does so before standing beside him. Alec reaches over the table picking up yet another glass of water and tossing it back with a loud unnecessary thirst quenched sound before holding out his hand to Magnus. Magnus takes it instantly with a smile following along as they head for the living room once again.  

***

A waiter takes their dessert requests, a choice of six different types of pie as they file out of the large dining room.

Magnus selects the pumpkin pie, while Alec chooses the chocolate pecan.

“Pecan, gross,” Magnus says as they work their way over to one side of the room a little bit away from everyone else to have just a moment of reprieve.

“How dare you, pecan pie is delicious,” Alec says sounding outright offended.

Magnus rolls his eyes and crosses his arms making a face that screams Alec is insane to have that opinion.

“It’s all sugar, no substance,” Magnus says. He really shouldn’t be surprised Alec’s favorite pie is one as ridiculously sugar based as pecan considering the amount of sugar he witnessed him dump into his coffee a few days prior. Alec doesn’t even deign him with a response, he just gives him another affronted look like Magnus has insulted his entire being, not a pie.

Moments later a waiter hands them each their requested pies. Alec takes a bite of his pointedly making eye contact with Magnus as he does so and making a pleased obnoxious yum sound. Magnus just rolls his eyes again, amused as he takes a bite of his own pie.

“So, are you enjoying yourself so far this evening?” Magnus asks after a few minutes of companionable silence.

Alec pauses grabbing a coffee from a passing tray and taking a sip, he grimaces a bit at the black coffee before answering Magnus’ question. Out of the corner of his eye Magnus sees his father watching them, almost looking excited to see Alec drinking a coffee, probably hoping it will sober him up.

“Well, your father is kind of terrible, and all these people are exhausting,” he says gesturing with his fork to the room at large after he sits his coffee on the floor next to him. “But despite the fact she may be a little air headed Marissa is lovely and I get a kick out of making rich people as uncomfortable as possible, so it’s been a pretty good night thus far.”

He pauses taking a bite of his pie and looking at Magnus from underneath his thick dark lashes. “Plus, you know, you’re pretty good company as well,” he says tapping his fork to his lips.

Magnus slow blinks at him and smiles.

“You’re pretty good company as well, especially when you’re just being you, like right now, not the overstated bad boy, even if he is a good time,” Magnus says. He reaches out his empty fork and boops Alec on the nose with it, just because. Alec scrunches up his face adorably at the action.

“Well I like you being you too, though it’s kind of fun you’re playing into my whole act, most people just play the none the wiser partner,” Alec says before leaning down and drinking another glug of his coffee. He makes the same cute displeased face again as he swallows.

“Really? No one’s made it seem like you’ve turned them into a crazy bad boy too?” Magnus says surprised. He’s been having a pretty good time being a little more instigative around his father than he usually would be.

Alec shakes his head. “Not really, Dot tackling her family members was a bit of an outlier, and honestly they’re almost never guys.”

“So I’m your first fake boyfriend then, huh?” Magnus says oddly flattered about the possibility.

“Second actually, but still most of the time I get hired by women, there’s a comfort in knowing that your fake date won’t try to make a move,” Alec says taking the last bite of his sickeningly sweet pecan pie.

“I guess I didn’t have a problem with that prospect,” Magnus says smiling around his fork looking right into Alec’s pretty hazel eyes, all dark rimmed and intent on him.

“I guess you didn’t,” he says with a smile putting his empty plate and mug on a passing tray and leaning back comfortably.

Magnus joins him leaning over by one of the sprawling windows casually finishing off his pie looking up to see one of his father’s political friends, a 30 something councilman of some sort, staring at them nearby. Alec, the little devil, winks at him slow and seductive. The councilman bristles and his wife beside him gives Alec an evil stare.

Magnus laughs a little, thinking that’s it for that interaction when suddenly the click of heels approaches them.

“Did you just wink at my husband?” the woman all but screams at Alec causing him to jump up from his slouch against the windows. Her head shakes as she speaks, her clip-on earrings wobbling.

“I,” Alec starts, but she doesn’t let him get in a word before she’s tossing her glass of white wine right at him.

“Oh, shit,” he says surprised and laughing a bit as he scrubs at his face his already messy eyeliner getting even messier in the process.

“Listen, lady I had no intention, your husband was the one staring,” he shouts back sounding a little more drunk than he did at the dinner table, they weren’t planning on Alec picking a fight tonight, but it seems he’s rolling with the one presented to him.

“Why you little, you little-“ she basically shrieks her husband pulling at her arm trying to stop her from taking this any further. Magnus steps in in front of Alec, a stern look of shutting shit down that he learned from his father on his face.

“You will want to watch your next words very carefully, wouldn’t want your husband’s constituents hearing any bigoted language coming from his already,” Magnus pauses surveying her bejeweled dress that looks like she’s going to a bad 80’s themed prom. “Tacky wife.”

She looks angrier at that, but Magnus’ stern look seems to usher her away, allowing her husband to pull her from the room.

The room is dead silent all eyes on them.

“Alright,” Asmodeus’ voice booms, everyone turning his way. “Show’s over, nightcaps will be served by the barkeep in the library shortly why don’t you all head in there,” he says gesturing to the way of the library. He steps over to Magnus and Alec as does Marissa who instantly hands Alec a towel.

“She’s always been a stick in the mud with bad taste,” Marissa says showing her own dislike for the councilman’s wife. “You didn’t do a thing wrong.” She smiles at them both apologetically before linking her arm in Alec’s and pulling him the way of everyone else. Magnus moves to follow, but is stopped by a hand on his chest from Asmodeus.

“We need to talk,” he says leaving no room for argument. Alec looks back at him from where Marissa is still chattering happily to him, a clear question of if he needs to cause a scene to stay with Magnus in his eyes. Magnus waves him on, watching as they go.

He barely waits until Alec and Marissa are out of ear shot to start in on Magnus.

“I know he’s faking it,” Asmodeus says and that is not what Magnus was expecting. He plays dumb though raising his eyebrows in question.

“Don’t act like you don’t what I’m talking about, I’d venture to say from the looks you two share you know all about it as well. You just brought him here and put on this whole show to embarrass me,” Asmodeus continues with a disappointed sigh. “That man hasn’t had a drop of liquor tonight, every action he’s taken hasn’t been some alcohol fueled mistake it’s been purposeful. He’s probably the most sober person here tonight. As far as I’d guess aside from truly being the black sheep of his family name and that truly atrocious car nothing that’s happened here tonight has been real.”

And alright, yeah Magnus definitely wasn’t expecting this. He expected his father to rail on his choice of partner, to knock Alec’s character and behavior and maybe Magnus’ to boot as well. He didn’t expect him to know exactly what’s been going on all night.

“And before you ask how I figured it out, you really should have made sure your date kept better track of his finished glasses, after dinner he left one behind and it didn’t smell of the vodka we’ve all been convinced he’s been downing all night,” Asmodeus explains. “From there a quick search told me the name was at least true. His family really did cut him out judging from his complete disappearance from all events, not that I can blame them, anyone who behaves this atrociously without influence of alcohol just to play a game probably deserves to be cut off.”

Magnus huffs out an unamused laugh at the underlying implications of his statement.

“Is that a threat?” Magnus says steely eyed.

“It could be, if you don’t get him out of here right this instant and promise to never try anything even close to similar to this charade again,” Asmodeus says just as steely eyed and Magnus hates that he learned the look from him.

For a moment he considers just leaving, hightailing it out of there with Alec and not saying a single other word to his father, but he’s tired. He’s 30 and he’s been putting up with his father’s vague threats if he doesn’t play the good little son role since before he could talk practically and he’s just done.

“No, we won’t be leaving,” Magnus says holding his ground. “And as for this charade well I guess I can promise you nothing like this will ever happen again, because I’m done. I’m done playing some perfectly crafted son that I’m not, I’m done acting like we’re a happy little family, like you won’t get bored of poor, sweet Marissa in no time and there’ll be a new wife on your arm who you’ll pay just as little attention to.”

“You’re right, I did do this to embarrass you, to show those fucking fakes in there that you are the fakest amongst them, even more so than all of them combined. Alec may have been playing a role tonight, but he’s ten times more real than you could ever dream to be. Don’t worry about having to cut me off and making a whole big show of it, I haven’t needed you or your money in years,” Magnus says. He straightens out his shirt and stands with his head held high turning on his heel to join Alec in the library.

***

Magnus is frankly riding high on truly stepping up to his father for the first and likely last time in his life when he saunters into the library scanning around to find Alec. He spots him in the corner chatting with Marissa.

“There you are,” Alec says sounding genuinely concerned. Magnus just smiles at him hoping it looks more assuring than it feels.

Marissa reaches out patting him on the cheek lightly. “Don’t listen to whatever he said, he’s just jealous he’s not as outstanding as you,” she says with a smile.

Magnus is struck in that moment with how much his father doesn’t deserve her, she might be a lot to take sometimes, but she is a genuinely kind woman.

“Nor as outstanding as you,” Magnus says with a smile and she blushes at the compliment. He’s ready to follow that up by telling her that she should leave his father’s ass immediately before he gets the chance to toss her to the side, but someone calls out her name and she’s pulled away smiling at them as she goes.

“Ready for the grand finale?” Alec says as soon as Marissa steps away. The grand finale, right, Magnus and Alec had discussed giving one last show before they left for the night if they managed to make it all the way through dessert. And they have, everyone’s nursing nightcaps ready to exit for the evening, but clearly all lingering around to see if Alec does anything else embarrassing or outlandish before they go.

Mere moments ago Magnus was ready to just storm out of here with Alec at his side and maybe ask Alec if he fancied going on a real date for a late-night drink somewhere.

But now with his father storming into the room after him, glaring and judging, looking quite possibly the most upset he’s ever been with Magnus he can’t seem to find a reason to go just yet.

“Let’s do it,” he says and Alec smiles tossing back his water and acting as if there’s a nice vodka burn to it. He grabs a discarded fork from a table nearby and taps it on his now empty glass so hard that it chips just a bit earning everyone’s attention.

“Could I have everyone’s attention please,” he says sounding a little bit like he’s sobered up after the near fight with the councilman’s wife. Most of the room looks their way eagerly like they can’t wait to see what happens next, while a few others apprehensively turn their attention.

“I met this stunning man not all that long ago,” he says laying his hands lightly on Magnus’ shoulders. “But in that short time, I have realized that undisputedly there will never be another for me. From the moment we hooked up in the back of Cherry the night we met,” he says not elaborating at all on that sentence, earning the shocked gasps and confused looks of many. Marissa giggles, Asmodeus seethes not loving this new addition to their fake meet cute story even if he knows it’s all a ruse now. “I knew you were the one, so, Magnus Bane,” he continues on getting down on one knee he pulls the plain silver ring he’s been wearing all night on his middle finger off and presents it to Magnus. “Will you marry me?”

Magnus pretends to be shocked covering his mouth with a gasp. His eyes flit up to where his father stands, looking like he’s about to make some move to physically stop Magnus from answering Alec’s question, like he won’t survive the embarrassment of this room full of people knowing his sons engaged to a degenerate in messed up jeans even if he knows it’s not real. Magnus doesn’t give him the chance immediately looking down at Alec with glassy eyes.

“Yes, Alexander, yes,” he says no longer hiding his amused grin as Alec slips the ring on his finger and lifts up from the ground pulling Magnus into a crushing hug. The room claps tentatively, enthusiastically in Marissa’s case who it seems does not care how insane something is she just loves love. How she ever ended up married to his father, who only truly loves himself, his hardwood floors and his hair is a continual mystery.

“Wanna get the fuck out of here?” Magnus mumbles into Alec’s ear. Alec pulls back from their hug and nods enthusiastically.

“Do I have your permission to bridal carry you out of here?” Alec says lowly ensuring no one can hear him.

“Oh, hell yes,” Magnus says delightedly as Alec lifts him up and makes for the door.

“We’re gonna go celebrate in the back of Cherry again,” Alec announces proudly to the room as he goes. Magnus pats him on the shoulder guiding him to the coat closet where he quickly grabs their jackets, Alec never losing his grip on him.

Asmodeus shouts after them as they head out the door, Alec pausing at his car and planting Magnus down on the ground gently. He tugs at the door three times before it opens gesturing for Magnus to get in as he ignores his father’s bellowing shouts. Alec playfully salutes Asmodeus and slides over the hood of his car bumping into the Porsche beside him setting off it’s car alarm as he lands and slips into the driver’s seat quickly.

He starts the engine peeling out of the space just as Asmodeus reaches the front of the car. Magnus just blatantly ignores him only catching sight of Marissa standing in the door waving their way as they drive off.

***

The ride back is quiet for the first twenty minutes or so, music playing softly as Alec drives drumming his fingers along the steering wheel to the beat.

“My dad figured out you were faking it,” Magnus says with no preamble looking out the window as they go. The roads are mostly empty now people celebrating the holiday into the late hours with their families before waking up at 5 a.m. to Black Friday shop.

“Shit, there goes my Oscar,” Alec says eyes flashing to Magnus quickly with a laugh before focusing back on the road. Magnus chuckles in response.

“Well, it’s an honor just to be nominated,” Magnus smiles tilting his head towards Alec.

Alec snorts a little laugh then turns his head quickly to Magnus once again.

“Did your dad give you a lot of trouble about it?”

“He did, I don’t think I’ll be getting a Christmas invite after I railed back at him,” Magnus says. “But it’s okay. I think it was just a long time coming, bound to happen. Better to get it over with now before I wasted more years trying to seem like I’m something I’m not just to please him.”

Alec comes to a stop at a red light and turns his attention fully to Magnus.

“Are you okay? I mean shitty or not, having a parent cut ties isn’t easy, trust me I know,” he says. Magnus watches him enjoying the way the red of the stoplight cuts through his dark hair.

Magnus takes a deep breath and gives Alec a small assuring smile.

“I will be,” he says, truly meaning it. The fallout with his father is a lot, but he will be okay. He’s lived without his father being truly present in any form since the day his mother walked out on them, this new world where he’s likely all cut off isn’t anything new really. He’ll manage, hell he might even thrive without the chains of his father’s expectations weighing on him now.

The light turns green and they lapse back into comfortable silence for the rest of the ride, Magnus completely endeared as he listens to Alec mumbling the lyrics to every other song that comes on the radio under his breath.

When they pull up to the curb outside of Magnus’ house Alec steps out first ever the gentleman helping Magnus with the finicky passenger side door.

He holds out a hand helping Magnus out and smiles when he drops it shutting the door tight.

“Well, thank you for the free meal and the fun night of mischief,” Alec says leaning back against his Thunderbird. His eyeliner is a mess and there’s a faint dried spot along his white shirt stained from the wine incident, he looks beautiful under this streetlight and Magnus wants more night like this. Well maybe not exactly like this one, it’s been a bit of rollercoaster for him emotionally, but nights with Alec all the same.

“Go out with me,” he says not even framing it as a question. He knows Alec is interested too has seen it in the moments where he was just being himself and the appreciative glances he’s given Magnus all night that clearly weren’t just a part of the show he was putting on. And that doesn’t even cover their coffee the other day, the easy way they’d talked and just clicked right off the bat.

“For real, not a fake date or a bad boyfriend show, a real date,” Magnus clarifies when he notices Alec’s surprise.

“I’d like that a lot,” Alec says pushing off the car. He steps a little closer to Magnus leaving just a bit of distance for Magnus to clear if he wants. Magnus does want so he steps up not quite touching Alec, but close enough all he’d have to do is raise a hand. It feels almost like when they were in his father’s office tonight, but even better because they’re alone for real now, there’s no show and no chance of interruptions.

“I need the record to show that I literally never do this, not once, I haven’t even been interested, let alone made any sort of action to make something real out of one of these fake dates,” Alec says low and sincere keeping his eyes on Magnus’ the entire time making sure the words are clear. “You are entirely the exception.”

“Entirely exceptional, actually,” he adds on with a smile. Magnus smiles reaching out his hands to rest on Alec’s chest.

“So are you,” he says patting his hands twice where they rest. “And I believe you aren’t just doing this to pick up hot guys, no worries.” He says with a chuckle and Alec rolls his eyes.

“What are you doing tomorrow night?” Alec asks.

“Nothing, no classes until next Tuesday and most of my friends are out of town for family dinners and what not. I’m as free as a bird,” he says blinking his eyes just a bit flirtatiously at Alec.

“Good, we should get dinner, no family, no bullshit, just us,” Alec says tentatively resting his hands on Magnus’ waist.

“I like the sound of that,” Magnus says lifting up to kiss Alec on the cheek softly just once before pulling back.

“I’ll text you with a time and place in the morning,” he says slowly stepping backwards holding Alec’s steady gaze as he goes. He turns just for a moment putting his key’s in the door and pushing it open before turning back. “Goodnight, Alexander.” He says and watches as Alec smiles a dazzling smile before rounding the car and opening the driver’s side door.

“Goodnight, Magnus,” he says before slipping into his car. Magnus watches with a smile as he pulls away from the curb, his bright red ridiculous Thunderbird speeding away. The smile doesn’t leave his face as he makes his way all the way up to his apartment, so much so that he’s pretty sure his cat is judging him all the way to bed.

***

One Year Later

Magnus’ phone buzzes insistently his ringtone blaring on the nightstand.

“Stop that,” he says weakly reaching out an arm to silence it, his hand falling to the nightstand and coming up empty once, twice, three times while it continues to ring. It’s far too loud and far too early on a holiday with no responsibilities for this.

A chuckle comes from above him and warmth reaches over brushing his fingers before gripping the phone and pulling back.

“Magnus Bane’s phone,” Alec answers his voice a little lower and rougher than usual from sleep. It’s a very nice sound. Magnus can’t hear who’s on the other end of the line, but when he flips over he sees Alec smile and perk up a bit leaning back against the headboard.

“Yeah it is Alec, it’s good to know you remember me, Marissa,” he says and Magnus raises an eyebrow he’s only heard from his father’s wife once since last Thanksgiving, an apologetic text on his father’s behalf. His father on the other hand hasn’t so much as sent a sternly worded email in that time.

“Yeah, he’s here, hold on sec,” Alec says, he lowers the phone offering it to Magnus who grumbles a bit lifting himself up and leaning against the headboard next to Alec.

“Hi, Marissa,” he says clearing his throat a bit.

“Magnus!” she shouts into his ear and he jumps back a bit, from the both the volume and from shock hearing that she’s finally dropped her terrible nickname for him. “I was glad to hear Alec answer the phone, I knew you two were a good match, even if it was all a show that night.”

“Ah,” Magnus says. “So father told you.”

“He did, but it doesn’t change that you two are the cutest,” she says. “Which speaking of your father,” she starts and Magnus is ready to shoot down any attempt at reuniting she’s trying to pull here. Marissa is a nice woman, but his father’s silence in the past year has spoken volumes, he’s not playing into a reconciliation he can’t even make the call for.

“I left him,” she says finishing her sentence. Magnus huffs out a little surprised laugh that Alec raises an eyebrow at, well good for her. “About a month ago and I know it’s incredibly short notice and you might have other plans, but I’m having a little Thanksgiving dinner of my own with a few friends this year and I’d love to see you. And Alec too, of course!”

Magnus smiles, they’d had a Friendsgiving slash one year anniversary celebration over the weekend with Raphael, Cat, Dot, Ragnor and Alec’s siblings, tonight’s plans were likely going to consist of Chinese takeout on the couch and making out. And while Marissa can be a lot she was always kind, and he can’t help but recall how supportive she’d been that night a year ago. He can’t find it in himself to turn down her offer because of it.

“We’d love to,” he says and Alec looks at him again in question. Magnus just waves a hand signaling he wait a moment for explanation. On the other end of the line Marissa claps excitedly.

“Yay!” she says. “I’ll text you my address, I’m in the city now so Alec might have to leave Cherry at home.”

Magnus laughs. “Oh, he might bring her anyways.”

He chats idly with Marissa for a few more minutes before disconnecting and promising they’ll be on much better behavior this year for dinner.

“Marissa left my father,” Magnus says as soon as he’s hung up and tossed his phone back on the nightstand. Alec smiles looking just as oddly proud for her as Magnus feels. “And we’re having Thanksgiving with her and some friends tonight.”

“Good for her,” he says flipping back the covers and getting out of bed. “Should I get out the eyeliner and torn up jeans for tonight just for old times’ sake, or no?”

He smirks standing gloriously naked in front of the dresser rustling through one of his drawers. His drawers. Magnus isn’t quite used to the lovely novelty of the fact that Alec lives with him now. It’s been about two months since they made it official and just seeing one of Alec’s crappy romance novels on the coffee table or his shitty leather jacket hanging in its permanent space in their closest still makes him feel all sorts of tingly.

Magnus hums in thought rising up from bed and moving to lean against the dresser beside Alec. He’d pay good money to get Alec to wear eyeliner more often frankly.

“I think you should bring both of those things out as often as you’d like,” he says reaching out a hand and cupping Alec’s cheek turning it towards him. The feel of Alec’s soft, shaven skin is something he also isn’t quite used to. For the first time in their year together he’d shaved off his beard entirely, completely out of the blue and for no other reason than he’d had a day off and was bored. He’s as handsome as ever, but Magnus had quite literally had to do a double take when he came home and saw Alec sitting on the couch.

“Do try and leave the illustrious tales of our sexual escapades at home this time though, darling,” he says with a smile. He’s mostly joking, but now that their sexual escapades are real and not fictionalized he’d like to keep them just between them.  

“Damn, well there goes all my dinner conversation topics,” Alec says with a wicked little smile.

“Menace,” Magnus says as he slides his hand down from Alec’s face to his chest with a shake of his head.

Magnus runs his fingers lightly through the hair on Alec’s chest stopping to rest on the stark black tattoo on his lower abdomen. And boy hadn’t it been a blissful discovery to see that ink when he finally got Alec’s shirt off for the first time. He trails his fingers over the shape of it lightly, knowing exactly what he’s doing.

“If you keep doing that we’ll never leave this room,” Alec says his lips tilting up in a little pleased smirk.

“Doing what?” Magnus says innocently still moving his fingers over the shape of the tattoo lightly.

“And you say I’m the menace,” Alec says leaning in to kiss him on the lips once hard and bruising. “We need to shower.” He says stepping away from Magnus. Magnus’s hand falls and he pouts laying it on a bit thick. Alec pointedly attempts to ignore it.

“Together?” Magnus says with a hopeful smile.

Alec rolls his eyes. “I feel like despite having literal hours to get ready we’ll end up late somehow if we do,” he says eyeing Magnus’ bare form appreciatively. “But there’s no way I can say no to that.”

Magnus smirks pushing himself off the dresser and right up against Alec.

“Damn straight,” he says before leaning in to lay a teasing, promising kiss on his lips.

“There is absolutely nothing straight about this,” Alec says with a toothy smile once he’s pulled back already tugging Magnus into the bathroom for their shower. Magnus laughs loud and bright as he’s dragged along.

***

Impossibly despite literal hours, Alec’s right, showering together does prolong the entire process of getting out of the apartment when showering becomes shower sex, which becomes another round on the bathroom counter which results in needing to shower again, separately this time much to both their dismays.

Eventually though, they’re dressed and ready. Magnus finishes up the last touches on his hair, adjusting the bright almost golden streak at the front of it which compliments the golden chained pattern of his shirt. He picks up the ring Alec fake proposed to him with last year and twists it onto his right-hand ringer finger with a smile. They obviously aren’t actually engaged, but increasingly lately Magnus finds himself thinking about making it real.

He gives himself one last once over in the mirror before stepping out of the bathroom to find Alec sitting cross legged on their bed and Magnus is nearly sent back in time to a year ago.

He’s wearing the jeans and boots just like he had that night, his eyeliner is in place a little less messy but still unpracticed and his hair is its usual tussled self. The shirt is almost the same, this time it’s one Magnus gave him with subtle lines of shiny black at the collar and cuffs, the little black loops in his ears are a gift from Magnus as well.

It’s a perfect combination of that first night when they were a fake couple out to cause mayhem and the couple they are now, a royal we couple that are so deep in love Magnus has to just take a few breaths in sometimes to remember this is all real.

“Ready to go?” Alec asks looking up at Magnus with a smile. Magnus nods as Alec stands throwing on his leather jacket with the hole in it he refuses to fix. Magnus follows suit grabbing his own jacket and following Alec out as he grabs his keys and wallet scratching the heads of both cats curled up on the back of the couch as he goes.

“We could take the subway you know?” Magnus says once they’re in the elevator, Alec twirling the keys to his Thunderbird around his finger.

Alec scrunches up his face adorably. “No way,” he says gesturing for Magnus to step out first when they reach the lobby. “Cherry helping us fight through Thanksgiving traffic is gonna be a lifelong tradition for us.”

Lifelong Magnus likes the sound of that, but he is dubious that Alec’s precious car will last anywhere near that long.

Alec rushes to the car parked proudly and loudly right in front of their building unlocking it and pulling four times on the passenger door before getting it open.

He smiles at Magnus gesturing with an overstated bow for him to get in and Magnus rolls his eyes but can’t seem to hide his smile and Alec knows it. He shuts the door once Magnus is in and in a move reminiscent of their escape from his father’s last year slides over the hood before slipping into his own seat and starting the car driving off to a much better Thanksgiving than the year before.

[dirty-holy-things]

The Space Between (your heart & mine)

Chapter 18 has been posted to Ao3, and below to Tumblr.

Catch up on chapters 1-17 on Ao3.

Notes: This fic is 18+ and explicit. This chapter includes canon-typical violence and description of injuries. This is a very heavy and emotional chapter that explores feelings of grief, and while the ending of this chapter is positive (trying to avoid spoilers), please exercise caution if this is a sensitive subject. I will say though, that for all of the pain I may put y'all and these characters through, we will have a happy ending.

Words: 5.9k update, 86.8 total.

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Din nodded wordlessly at the man before moving to exit the shop; his business here was completed, and now it was time to go home. To go back to you, to hold and kiss you, and to try and keep this exciting new secret to himself. As his footsteps landed on the volcanic gravel of the city street, his attention was abruptly drawn to a loud crack and crumbling sound that echoed off of the buildings around him. The intrusive and unexpected sound snapped him right into high alert, needing to know the source of the sound — and needing to know where you were, if you were safe.

His feet couldn’t seem to move fast enough as he rushed through the streets, sidestepping merchant carts, droids, and young children that played without concern for the unexpected noise. His mind raced with ideas of all of the horrible things that could’ve happened to you — what if you got stuck in the middle of a shootout? What if something collapsed and you were crushed by it? What if someone had attacked you? He tried to recall if you had told him where you were going, before you had exited the cantina earlier; but despite wracking his brain, he couldn’t remember anything that offered any consolation or comfort. He wished that his feet would move as quickly as his mind was; his breathing grew more labored as he drew closer and closer to where he believed the sound to have come from.

“He looks through the wound of my life like it’s light. So I let him.” — Omotara James, Pier 52

Din’s fingers drummed ceaselessly on the sticky tabletop in the cantina, just wanting this exchange of pleasantries with Karga to be over so he could return home to you. What should have been a fifteen minute meeting turned into an hours-long event; at this point, having worked for the guild for countless years, Din knew he should expect this, but it still didn’t stop him from wishing for something better. These meetings were admittedly much more enjoyable when you accompanied him, as you were able to draw much of Karga’s attention and conversation, allowing Din to withdraw from the exchange; at least, until Karga made a comment out of turn, or a tasteless joke and Din had to remind him of the concept of boundaries. These meetings were a necessary evil, and yet you had somehow made even the more frustrating and mundane parts of his life into something exciting and enjoyable. You had brightened every aspect of his existence through your presence alone; your radiance was never lost on him.

Din was finally able to wrap things up with Karga, having successfully negotiated the next round of bounties after the man had been loosened up by a few drinks. Din was excited to share the upcoming destinations with you — he loved seeing the way that you lit up when you were exploring, learning, flourishing. He had feared before that he was holding you back, by keeping you to himself, but you were incredibly strong and fiercely independent, and you pursued your own interests and ideas with a determination that continually impressed him.

Din excused himself from Karga’s presence, having one more matter to attend to before returning to the ship to wait for you to rejoin him. He exited the cantina with a sigh of relief, happy to be freed of the space that was somehow both empty and all too full at the same time. The ground he walked on here was familiar, but his steps felt lighter now than they ever had before. It felt as though something had lifted the weight that resided on his shoulders, a weight that he hadn’t known existed until he met you.

Din had loved seeing the way that you had grown throughout your shared travels; you were like a sponge, soaking up everything the universe had to offer you. He loved seeing the way you lit up when you talked to him about the historical texts you had picked up, loved seeing you get excited by all of this new and undiscovered information. He was also somewhat secretly relieved that you were no longer thrusting yourself into unsafe situations simply in the name of profit; and once you had seen his somewhat disorganized but impressive financial records, you had come to the understanding that the bounty profit resulting from your assistance was... not entirely necessary. Being a man of few interests and slim personal expenses, he had been taking in almost purely profit from every job he had for nearly twenty years. He regularly supported the covert, ensuring that the foundlings could be cared for, but the money he had retained for himself had continued to grow over the years with very little to deplete it. He had never felt the need to spend exorbitant amounts of money on himself before; he hadn’t needed anything other than the Razor Crest and his beskar.

And now, all he truly needed was you and the kid. The ship, as significant as it was, was simply a vessel for the memories the three of you created there. It certainly held value and was special in its own right, but at the end of the day it was a mechanized hunk of metal and fuel. The memories created there would not continue to exist exclusively within the walls of the cabin — they would live on within the three of you. The ship wasn’t home — you and the kid were home, whether you were on Nevarro or Naboo. Steel was only ever steel; spirit was not as confined.

And that was precisely why he was meeting with a merchant to discuss the procurement of a new ship. Something nicer, newer, with better accommodations and more comforts than the Razor Crest could ever hope to offer. Din felt as though he couldn’t give you much in this lifetime, aside from love; he couldn’t turn back time to erase your past, couldn’t give you the tools needed to connect with the Force, couldn’t truly even give you the sight of his face. But he could do this; he could give you this.

He felt confident walking into the office of the local Bureau of Ships and Services liaison. Din knew that coordinating a purchase and acquisition of this magnitude would likely be more business and commission than this man had ever received in his lifetime; and while he knew that there would be a delay as he was not going through the primary office on Coruscant, he was quite relieved to be operating without their greedy and slick influences.

He made his needs clear to the nervous man that met with him; the small, thin man avoided eye contact with the narrow visor of Din’s helmet, and the thermal sensor indicated to Din that the man was sweating profusely throughout their entire interaction. Reviewing necessary requirements and components of this future ship, Din stated that he certainly needed something functional for work as a bounty hunter — hyperdrive, room for an armory and carbonite cargo — but he also wanted something with a galley, private quarters, something that would be nice for you. The man’s hands shook as he searched to find something that would meet these specifications, before eventually suggesting a S-161 yacht that would offer Din “both domestic and business spaces,” to quote the nervous man.

Din looked at the image of the ship that was projected onto the screen in front of him. The sleek shape and structure of the ship was certainly a departure from the bulkiness of the Razor Crest, but when he saw the interior cabin space, he could clearly picture you and Grogu playing in the lounge area; he could see both of your bodies occupying the larger bed space; he could see all of the memories that were yet to come.

Din paid the full amount for the ship upfront, and the man’s face went a bit green at the sight of so many credits. The man’s voice wavered as he informed Din that it would be about three or four weeks before the ship was available and accessible on Nevarro; and this was perfect as it would allow him time to complete the next round of newly-negotiated jobs, before bringing you back here for a surprise. He tried to picture the look on your face when he revealed the new ship to you; he was excited to see how you would react to the lounge area with a couch, a bed bigger than a data pad, everything shiny and new... and waiting for you and Din to christen all the untouched surfaces.

Before leaving, Din informed the man of one additional and seemingly superficial request. “I would like for something to be installed, that would allow one to... grow flowers. An artificial light of some sort.”

He recalled an off-handed comment that you had made about you can’t grow flowers in space, and how you had shared with him that your mother had taught you about floristry — it seemed to be one of the few positive connections you had to your past, and Din wanted to give you the ability to reconnect with this piece of your history, in a new and healthier way.

“S-sure, I’m sure something can be added to allow for that.” Din could hear the confusion and curiosity in the man’s voice, but luckily he knew well enough to keep his nose out of Din’s personal business. Didn’t need to know why a Mandalorian wanted to grow daisies.

Din nodded wordlessly at the man before moving to exit the shop; his business here was completed, and now it was time to go home. To go back to you, to hold and kiss you, and to try and keep this exciting new secret to himself. As his footsteps landed on the volcanic gravel of the city street, his attention was abruptly drawn to a loud crack and crumbling sound that echoed off of the buildings around him. The intrusive and unexpected sound snapped him right into high alert, needing to know the source of the sound — and needing to know where you were, if you were safe.

His feet couldn’t seem to move fast enough as he rushed through the streets, sidestepping merchant carts, droids, and young children that played without concern for the unexpected noise. His mind raced with ideas of all of the horrible things that could’ve happened to you — what if you got stuck in the middle of a shootout? What if something collapsed and you were crushed by it? What if someone had attacked you? He tried to recall if you had told him where you were going, before you had exited the cantina earlier; but despite wracking his brain, he couldn’t remember anything that offered any consolation or comfort. He wished that his feet would move as quickly as his mind was; his breathing grew more labored as he drew closer and closer to where he believed the sound to have come from.

Din came to a halt in front of a crumbling building, the entire west-facing wall having collapsed into itself; the dust from the destruction filled the air around him and he searched the scene with a furious desperation, needing to know what had happened, needing to know if you were here. Through the ash and dust that choked out the fading light of the sunset, Din saw a familiar frame that he would have recognized anywhere — and his heart leapt into his throat as he screamed out your name in fear and all-encompassing terror.

He tried to run towards you, needing to have his hands on you, needing to know that you were alright — but as he drew closer, the air around him felt heavier; it was as if he was trying to run through quicksand, his movements slowed, and requiring more force and exertion than they should have. It was as if there was some sort of barrier around you, preventing Din from getting any closer; and eventually, his ability to move towards you stopped entirely, an unseen and impenetrable wall keeping you apart from him.

But from this vantage point, being about five feet away from you, he could see that you were not alone in this crumbling alleyway. There was a hulking, almost-human looking man with gnarled and rough grey skin, with an evil-looking axe clutched in his massive fist; but something about this scene was... off. The man was large, but there was no discernible reason why his form should be elevated so far above yours.

The pieces finally came together when Din saw that you were standing in front of the man, feet planted firmly on the ground while your arm extended in front of you, muscles straining as your hand was balled into a tight fist...

The man was a marionette on strings, and you were the one puppeting him.

Din felt a sense of horror radiate through him with this realization, but in addition to the churning mix of fear and horror, there was also a tidal wave of relief that hit him as he realized that you were at least not the one in danger. He continued to scream your name, modulator cracking, but even as his vocal cords became hoarse and raw with the strain you never turned to face him; your gaze remained trained on the man who was levitating within your unseen grasp.

The man was desperately dragging his hands across his throat, as if he was trying to remove an invisible noose that had wrapped around it; Din saw the man’s eyes continue to bulge within his awful looking face, blood vessels popping with strain, before Din turned his gaze back to you and watched a rivulet of blood run through your fingers and down your twitching arm, spattering onto the ground below you.

He had never seen anything like this from you before; it was terrifying but he felt as though he couldn’t look away. Din realized that he had really only ever known you as an incredibly kind and gentle person, and that previous image of you now stood out in stark contrast to this indulgently violent, vengeful storm of a woman who held her ground before him. Every image he had of you was turned on its head, taking on additional depth and dimension, as he began to understand that there was much more to your personhood than just your affection and sweetness.

While he had never rushed to dismiss the past abuse you had suffered, he rarely had to confront the knowledge that you had lived a life of extreme and unyielding violence in the twenty-some years before you met him. Of course you would be capable of these things when under duress; he recalled that he had watched you stab the leader of a drug cartel within the his first few hours of knowing you. At the time he had written it off as self defense, and it certainly still was; but he may have been a bit naive to assume that would be the only episode of violence in your life. Maybe there was a piece of him that didn’t want to acknowledge that this facet of you existed; but whether he wanted it or not, it was a part of you... and yet he loved it all just the same.

He felt entirely helpless and useless as he looked on at the scene before him; he couldn’t breach the Force barrier that you had thrown up around yourself and the Delphidian man, but fuck, he couldn’t walk away from you either. In his peripheral, he could see that a small crowd of onlookers had gathered, curious and fearful eyes watching the dramatic scene play out in the town. Mind racing, Din needed to decide what to do — try and fend off the crowd, shield you from prying and intrusive eyes? Or would he continue to fight against this barrier in front of him, never abandoning his original mission of reaching you?

As Din was debating the options at hand, the tension of the moment came to a head and crashed like a tsunami throughout the demolished alley and its crowd of onlookers. And yet despite the deafening, instantaneous crash, it was as if the galaxy was simultaneously moving in slow motion; Din could almost feel the muscles in your forearm and hand constrict, as your wrist brought your bleeding fist into your chest; and the distinct and undeniable crack of bone made his skin crawl. He was no stranger to the sounds of death, but hearing it come from your actions made his stomach turn. His eyes were glued onto you, glued onto the scene that was rapidly unfolding in the wake of his inaction; he saw the hateful and fiery light behind the man’s eyes snuff out as the life left him. Din was familiar with death; he had brought about more bloodshed than was worth weighing, but seeing a life extinguished at your bidding was...

He couldn’t find the words, despite his best efforts. A torrent of emotions was tearing through him, ravaging every previously-held notion and shaking him to his foundations.

The barrier that had separated Din from you finally gave way, same as the Delphidian’s spine had. The invisible Force wall collapsed to the bloodied ground just as the man’s body did, and the sudden disappearance of resistance in the air caused Din to lurch forward into you, his arms extending outwards as he saw you sway precariously. Your full weight landed against his chest as you collapsed into his arms, and then two of you tumbled to the ground, the metallic sound of beskar clanging within the crumbled stone that surrounded you while he tried to cradle your broken-looking body gently.

Din recovered quickly from the fall, shifting to rest on his knees as he brought your limp form closer to him, your head coming to rest on his lap. He cursed the layers of armor and clothing that kept you separate, needing to feel the heat of the blood rushing through your body, needing to feel the gentle rise and fall of your chest with each inhale and exhale. The way that your head lolled and rolled across him brought about a wave of terror and nausea as he worried that maybe he had been too late, maybe you were gone.

But he could still feel a faint and desperately-sought pulse beneath his gloved fingertips; he held onto this flickering bit of hope and pulled your body in closer to his chest, turning the two of you away from the observing crowd and the crumpled, distorted form of the man you had killed. He continued to hold you against his chest for an unknown amount of time, being paralyzed by the fear that any movement may disrupt the tenuous connection you held to this life; he was not sure how long he had stayed like this, cradling you against him, but it felt as though the moment stretched into eternity.

Din knew he couldn’t face the prospect of life in this galaxy without you. You had fundamentally altered and rewritten every piece of his existence, and he refused to go back to the life he had lived before he had met you. That previous life now seemed dull, almost as if it had existed in black and white, before that fateful day he had arrived in your shop — and since that chance meeting, you had brought all of the colors of life rushing to him, pinks and oranges and yellows and blues and greens and purples, a brightness that he had never felt before and worried he would never experience again without you. A life in black and white is an excruciating exercise in deprivation, after having experienced the beauty of technicolor.

And he couldn’t even begin to fathom the devastation that Grogu would experience, if you never returned home. The kid had taken to you as though you were his mother, and the thought of having to tell him that you were never coming back threatened to break Din’s heart just as irreparably as the Delphidian’s neck. Din knew that neither himself or Grogu would ever recover from this sort of loss, and it only made him cling to you even more desperately, praying to every god in existence that you would come back to him. He recalled how he had previously come to the conclusion that he would certainly lay down his life to save yours; and he now feared that he would never have the opportunity to save you as you had once saved him. He couldn’t use the Force to bring you back, he had no medical training to speak of, he felt entirely paralyzed by his lack of knowledge — and paralyzed by the idea that both he and Grogu, having been brought back to life by your hands, would now be the only living vessels for your spirit, the only proof that you had existed and had loved them wholly.

Din was anchoring every ounce of his hope to the faintly beating pulse of your heart when he felt a hand come to rest on his shoulder, the unexpected weight of it pulling him out of his reverie. His body turned to face this sudden intrusion, ready to fight whatever had disturbed his connection to you; until he saw the familiar face of Cara Dune, a concerned and saddened look on her face as she surveyed the state that you and Din had found yourselves in.

“We need to get her out of here.” Her deep and gentle voice somehow managed to cut through to Din, bringing him back into the present moment. She was right — he needed to get you out of here, needed to get you home, just as he had intended hours ago. You needed to recover at home, in the small bunk that now reflected the shape of your two bodies; needed to recover in the comfort of your own sleep clothes; needed to move away from the destruction you were now resting in.

Although Cara’s assessment was correct, Din’s shoulders cowed into yours, hunched by the overwhelming fear that any disturbance might be the thing to take you away from him. His head shook in response, the fear overtaking any sense of logic or reason; as Cara’s hands moved to your shallowly breathing chest, he growled and pulled you closer to him, feeling the limp structure of your body clashing with the unyielding beskar that covered him.

“Let us help you,” Cara enunciated softly, the concern evident in her voice. “She needs to recover at home, not here in an alleyway.”

Cara had always been good at finding the words that rubbed Din just the wrong way. She was right in her assessment that continuing to stay here, in the mess of blood and rubble, would not help you; but he also couldn’t stop the pressure that leapt into his throat as fear flooded his body, being terrified of hurting you further. She stepped in closer, her hands coming to rest at the bend of your knees, a subtle offering to assist with carrying you back to the Razor Crest, back home. Din pushed away his fear and shifted his focus to what you needed, not what his feelings needed. You needed Din to bring you home.

He felt broken, stuttered sobs wrench free from his chest as he stood up, gently cradling your upper body against him; the tears flowed freely behind the beskar, and he knew that nobody could see his blatant and unashamed display of emotions; but truthfully, he wouldn’t have cared, his concern for you outweighing any sense of self preservation or dedication to reservation. He was grateful that Cara kept her eyes to the ground, however, not trying to force a visual connection when he was clearly already distraught.

Din and Cara carried your body ever so gently into the cabin of the Razor Crest, being conscious of every bump and every step, before settling you softly into the comfort of the small bunk. The very same bunk that you had transformed from a place of functionality, to a place of love and sensuality. Din couldn’t imagine sleeping here, without you next to him.

Your body instinctively curled in on itself, recognizing the comfort of the bunk; your limbs drew closer as if you were retracting inwards to form a shield against the outside world. This innate and insistent need to protect yourself, that continued to present itself in even the most dire circumstances, broke a piece of Din’s heart that he hadn’t even known had existed. Watching your broken body fight for every breath, Din felt the need to do something to feel as though he was helping; he lifted your head up to allow you to rest you more comfortably on the singular and previously shared pillow, positioning you in the same way that he had seen you rest countless times before. Din cautiously and carefully tucked away the strands of hair that had fallen across your face, before pulling the woolen blanket tightly around your slowly breathing form; he tucked the corners of the blanket in around your body, knowing how you preferred to be wrapped snugly within.

Din had remained crouched next to the bunk, staying close to you so he could continue to watch your shallow but steady breaths, the rise and fall of your chest being the only solace he received during this whole ordeal. He waited for the color to return to your cheeks, watched for any fluttering of your eyelids that would indicate an awakening. He timed the breaths that you took, each shortened interval causing him to panic that something had gone horribly wrong.

Cara and Karga had been his saving grace throughout this entire ordeal as the days passed. The combined efforts of the duo had convinced Din to move from your side for long enough to shower, to use the restroom, to eat something and drink some water. Their coaxing reminded him that he couldn’t do much to help you if he was suffering as well. You seemed to rest in the bunk for an eternity, never tossing and turning as you usually would.

Din’s muscles had settled into the tragically familiar position of sitting next to you in the bunk, when Cara and Karga finally approached him to discuss the event that had occurred, unable to avoid it any further after countless hours had passed. Cara was the first to speak, her voice echoing softly throughout the cabin of the ship. “Bragant was a wanted target. She didn’t do anything wrong, by killing him, but I have a duty to report his death to the registers of the New Republic.”

Karga nodded at Cara’s statement. “He was wanted by many, and had a bounty on his head. I will pay you both for the body and its recovery.”

Din nodded wordlessly; he was not concerned about the man in the alleyway, was not concerned about any payment, was not concerned about anything except when you may come back to him. Your breaths had been even and steady for hours, and yet you had not woken up. He feared that you had suffered an irreparable, soul-shattering crisis and would never recover from this; and if that were the case, he still knew that he would never leave your side, preferring to waste away next to you rather than try and live a horrifically shallow life without you.

As several uncounted and painful hours had passed, Din waiting impatiently by your side, Din felt a shift within the steel walls of the Razor Crest, a gentle hum spreading throughout the ship and its inhabitants. Din’s gaze focused in on your face, searching for an explanation or answer about what was happening, what he was somehow feeling. After what had quite possibly been an eternity, your eyes fluttered open, pupils blown wide and disoriented as your gaze roamed around the location you had found yourself in.

Din choked on the laughter and tears that this moment had brought him, the overwhelming feeling of joy, relief, and disbelief crashing over him like an avalanche, drowning out all of the fear and desperation and hopelessness he had been experiencing just minutes earlier. Din thought he had previously cried out every tear that his body had to offer, but as he saw the light retuning to your eyes, the beautifully familiar eyes that focused in on the man they loved, he felt sobs cracking forth form his chest anew, threatening to break him in half — but this time, with the weight of happiness and relief. His hands reached out to cradle your face, loving how he could finally feel the heat of the blood that had returned to your cheeks. His head came down to rest against your chest as he cried with his whole body, shaking and sobbing as he whispered your name over and over, sending thanks to whatever deity or Force had deigned to bring you back to him, to bring you back home.

“Din,” you whispered, your voice hoarse and cracking; and it was the most beautiful thing he had ever heard, more beautiful than the first time you spoke his name, more beautiful than the sounds you made in bed, more beautiful than your first confession of love for him. “Din, what happened?”

He could hear the nervousness in your voice, and as you had just returned to him, he was loathe to talk about something so terrible, to taint the joy that had filled the small cabin once again. His thumbs traced pressured circles into your soft body, his head continuing to rest at your side. “Oh, my sweet girl,” he sighed, his voice sounding strained and pressured through the tears. “Not tonight, please.”

You nodded and conceded easily, and amidst all of the upheaval of the moment he couldn’t help but laugh as he realized this was likely the first and last time you would ever give in so easily. You were beautifully, infuriatingly, insistently stubborn and he loved every single ounce of fight that burned within you. That same stubbornness kept you alive on Chandrila, brought Din back from the brink of death, taught you and Grogu new skills, and today that same fight and fire had brought you home once again. He would never, ever take a single second of your stubbornness and resilience for granted again.

Din could feel the echo of footsteps coming up behind him, and as his body shifted he felt his muscles and joints cry out with exhaustion; he had no idea how long he had been waiting here next to you, but his body seemed to have counted each second, each day, resentfully. As he repositioned himself, his aching body settled into the floor, his back being propped up against the side of the bunk as he tried to progressively stretch the muscles that he had previously irritated.

Cara and Karga had joined the happy and exhausted scene, the relief evident in their soft smiles. “Glad to have you back with us,” Karga said with a laugh, the corners of his dark eyes crinkling as he looked on at the two of you.

“Gave us quite the scare,” Cara added, before moving to pass a canteen of water to Din. He had come across very few individuals in this galaxy that he cared for, and he now realized that he was exceptionally grateful to know both Cara and Karga, as they had taken care of him during this period of upset, which in turn enabled Din to take care of you. And in a roundabout way, this had also allowed for them to take care of you. He wouldn’t have guessed that these two abrasive and tough individuals would make such an effort, would care for you in this way; but then again — the man hidden in a fortress of beskar hadn’t been impervious to your light and your charms, so it should come as no surprise that others loved you too. For all of your past injuries and mysteries, you were incredibly easy to love and willing to love others back with your whole heart.

Din brought the canteen up to you, encouraging you to have some water. The tenderness with which he cradled your head in the crook of his elbow and brought the lip of the container up to you shocked him a bit, as he hadn’t believed that someone as broken and violent as he was, could still have the capacity to show this much kindness. But clearly, you brought out the best in those around you; every individual in the ship could attest to that.

“The little guy can stay with me again tonight, so the two of you can get some rest,” Cara offered, knowing that both you and Din had a long road to recovery. “We can talk about things more tomorrow.”

Karga nodded in agreement. “My previous offer still stands, as well. But that’s a matter for another day. For tonight, find rest and happiness. The world will keep spinning in the meantime, and we’ll catch up with it tomorrow.”

The duo left the ship without any additional commentary, not wanting to intrude or disrupt the hazy sense of peace and exhaustion that had settled on the scene. As Din heard the ramp to the ship close, the cabin grew dark and quiet as it had so many times before — he had been terrified that he may have to face this darkness alone, but you were still here. From his seated position, he pried the armor off of himself; even these simple and routine actions felt exhausting, but he knew that the nightmare was coming to a close and he would be able to join you in bed shortly. You had drifted back to sleep as Din had readied himself for bed; a faint snore was coming from your sleeping form. As he stood and pulled off his dirty clothing, he paused before getting into bed with you. There was something else he wanted to do first.

His calves and his lower back cried out as he walked across the dimly-lit cabin, to the corner that held your things; he gathered your favorite maroon-colored sleep clothes and your medical kit, before crossing back over to the bunk that you slept in. He carefully brought your injured hand closer to him, before cleaning the cuts that your nails had made; he put on a salve that he had seen you use for wounds before, and then wrapped your palm securely with gauze. He repeated the same steps for the wound that was on your chest, placing a large adhesive bandage over the area. He would’ve given anything to be able to use the Force to heal you, as you had done for him numerous times; how infuriating that something so purportedly pervasive and innate was also so fickle and finicky.

Feeling confident enough in his medical administrations, he then began to exchange your dirtied and damaged clothes with the soft, comforting fabric of the sleep clothes. He moved slowly, not wanting to disrupt or scare you; and he felt incredibly grateful for each beat of you heart that he could feel throughout your body, could feel pulsing underneath your skin.

He finally moved to join you in the bunk, shifting your pliant and willing body to allow him room to rest next to you; as he sunk into the cushions, he wrapped the two of you in the blanket like a cocoon. He realized a bit belatedly that he had left a light on in the cabin, the faint light casting the room with a yellow glow; he knew he should get up to turn it off, seeing as how he had removed his helmet; but as you nestled closely against him, he decided to let it be.

He kissed you repeatedly and ceaselessly, feeling endlessly grateful that this chapter of your shared story had ended on such a hopeful and positive note, when it could have ended in tragedy. He wanted to sink his teeth into this moment, to feel the joy that burst from it like an overripe fruit that falls from the vine. He knew that as long as he lived, he would never tire of this sweetness.

He sighed your name into the nape of your neck, and whispered a soft ‘I love you.’

Your eyebrow raised at his words, allowing for one of your eyelids to open ever so marginally before it drifted closed again; a quiet, “I love you, Din,” passing through your lips with an exhale.

[mimik-u]

Archive

Summary: As a part of the extensive process for documenting the war, Pearl and Blue Diamond prepare to have a conversation about Pink.

Prompt: One of the Diamonds interacts with a Pearl (either “our” Pearl, our “their” Pearl) post-CYM

Note: My gift to @runrundoyourstuff​ for our holiday gift exchange. Dani, your writing always inspires me—I’m always looking to it for your complex understanding of characters, your depth, and the beautiful way you have with words (always so thoughtful, even to the syllable). Thank you for all the wonderful conversations that we have. I’m so lucky to have you in my life!! And please check out her gift to me—Seasons! I’m so excited to read it, too!!!!

AO3 Link

—

“You don’t have to do this, you know,” Steven reminds her for the fifteenth time since he woke up this morning and bounded down from the loft to interrupt her daily newspaper reading. He’s sitting on the corner of her desk in Little Homeschool now, one of his jacket sleeves scrunched up at the elbow and the other rolled down, leveling her a serious look beneath his bushy brow, mouth pressed into a thin line.

It strikes Pearl suddenly, and for no readily available reason, that her little boy has grown up somewhere in the space and span of two measly years.

Soon, if he keeps growing, he’ll be even taller than she is.

“Yes, you’ve made sure I’m aware of that,” she returns wryly, absently reshuffling her notes again. They’re half-English, half-gem glyph in a shorthand that only she understands, alternating languages from line to line depending on when glyphs were not sufficient enough to capture all those once-foreign concepts to gemkind: love, romance, the depths of sacrifice. Gems didn’t need symbols to encode for these complex sensations, even if they felt them, and perhaps especially if they did.

It was scary to love someone on Homeworld.

It was terrifying to love them so powerfully that you would risk your very gem for them.

Traitors were duly punished.

Survivors were rare in Era One.

(Garnet can attest to that.)

“I’m just sayin’,” he protests playfully, sounding rather like Amethyst, and even resembling her when he raises both of his palms in mock surrender. “I know this project is important and all, but it’s not as important as me knowing that you’re comfortable…”

Pearl places her papers down and straightens them neatly, all the while feeling the force of Steven’s expectant gaze.

The strength of his love.

It warms her all over.

It colors her pale face.

But when she finally glances up at him, even though her cheeks are assuredly pink, she keeps her voice and resolve firm.

(Though she’ll never say this to him, not now, not anymore—never again—he reminds her so much of his mother sometimes.)

(His kindness, his warmth, his goodness.)

(Because Rose wasn’t all bad—not really. Not to her, at least.)

“I’m fine, Steven,” she reassures him. “I promise. I wouldn’t have agreed in the first place if I wasn’t. This isn’t the first time I’ve done one of these recordings, and it won’t be the last either.”

“But never about… this, you know”—he makes a vague pointing gesture with his hand, struggling for the right words—“and never with a Diamond.”

He says the word Diamond nervously, like it’s one of the expletives that Amethyst has gotten more comfortable in dropping now that Steven is a bonafide teenager, and he’s simply waiting to see Pearl’s response, how she’ll react.

She certainly did give Amethyst one hell of a scolding the other day.

“This is history,” she returns quietly. “It’s painful history, yes… but that can’t be helped.”

“But it can!” He argues pointedly, his eyes wide and incredulous, his voice scratched around its strained edges. “You don’t have to share the things that have hurt you for the entire galaxy to see, Pearl. That isn’t what this is all about.”

“But I want to.” And there’s a sense of finality in her tone that closes a mouth that had already been half-wrenched open in preemptive protest. Pearl takes the opportunity to reach over then and place a hand on Steven’s jean-enclosed knee, smiling gently. “Of course, there are a couple of details I’ll keep to myself—keep between you and me—but for the most part, I’m ready to tell this part of the story. Indeed, I think it’s essential that I do.”

“For archival purposes?” Steven asks dryly, resignation in his voice, a little teenage petulance, too.

Pearl pats his knee once, laughs lightly, and then withdraws her hand.

“For closure,” she says simply, but then, because she knows it’s not enough for him, and she wants it to be enough for him, elaborates. Explains. (It isn’t quite justification, though.) “Two years ago, I was bound by your mother’s final command to never talk about what we did. And most of the time, I didn’t want to… I don’t think I could have forced myself to even if I tried. As you got older, though, as you learned more about your mother and all of her many… complexities…  as you began to have questions—so many important questions—I knew I needed to but couldn’t. And now…”

“You have a choice,” Steven finishes for her, realization washing across his face, unbending the protective sharpness in it.

“Exactly,” she nods approvingly, “and so I’ve thought about it… I’ve weighed everything out carefully… and I’ve come to the conclusion that this is what I want—to claim our history… even  though it’s painful, even if it still hurts. I’ve had trouble doing that before, even with secrets in my own volition, and I don’t want… I refuse to let that be me anymore, Steven. I don’t want to live with thousands-year old ghosts anymore.”

Though his brow remains furrowed, though there’s something in the dark of his eyes that remains a little unsure, Steven nonetheless blinks to show that he’s heard her and nods solemnly to indicate that he understands.

It’s a simple gesture.

It means a lot.

And she smiles at him in radiant, weary relief.

A few months ago, Homeworld and Little Homeschool scholars had a conference to determine how best to record, preserve, and proliferate the history of the war, and all the events that resulted in Era Three. There are extensive gaps in Homeworld’s own archives, which had been scrubbed free of mentions of it in obedience to Yellow Diamond’s commands, and Little Homeschool, of course, being relatively new, doesn’t have an archive so much as it has a file cabinet in Pearl’s office that’s at the very least meticulously alphabetized. And so, they decided upon creating a universally accessible Archive, a series of recordings and documents and interviews delivered by gems and humans from both sides of the war, giving accounts of all that has happened in six thousand elapsed years.

Most of the Crystal Gems have done several recordings.

Garnet, Bismuth, and Pearl did one just last week on the Battle of the Ziggurat.

Biggs and a few other defected Homeworld soldiers have covered some of the minor battles.

Yellow and Blue Pearl have recorded a few on what it was like to be in the palace during the war.

And even the Diamonds themselves have proffered their perspectives whenever they’ve had the time.

Because the scholars emphasized early on that it was essential for all sides of the story to be brought to the table in order for the universe to get the fullest canvas of what it meant that Pink Diamond started a war that her half-human son would one day finish.

The minutiae of Homeworld politics.

All of the many battles.

The rebellion.

The beauty of Earth.

The aching desolation of Homeworld after the faked shattering.

Gems’ encounters with humans.

Humans’ encounters with gems.

The casualties.

The grief.

And what that does to a gem—to hold her comrade’s shards in her hands.

What it does to people.

The various townies have given their accounts of what it was like to live through alien invasion after alien invasion, to see their beloved Beach City upended so many times, right before their eyes.

War.

“When does it start?” Steven asks in a would-be-casual voice, straightening up from her desk and stretching his arms over his head before pulling them back down again. With a meticulousness she fancies he inherited from her, he finally fixes his sleeves, dragging the cuff of his left arm to perfectly match the length of the other.

“In ten minutes,” she replies.

“Do you want me to stay?” Lines crease his eyes even as he offers it. “I can if you need me to.”

He glances at the still dormant Holo-Crystal on the desk and just as quickly glances away, finding her face.

Searching her own gaze, even at the very moment she searches his, the both of them looking for something to be concerned about and unfailingly finding love.

Pearl knows for a fact that he doesn’t want to listen, that he’d rather not hear the sordid story all over again.

He’s seen it.

Goodness, he’s half-lived it through the mire of her own head.

But she also knows that if she asked him to, he would do it.

Just for her.

He’s selfless like that.

He’s Steven.

“Go,” she smiles softly at him, leaning back in her chair. “Get out of here. If you and Amethyst will grab the stuff from the store, I’ll make cookies for dessert tonight.”

Steven returns the gesture crookedly, and the relief in his eyes is almost mistakable for excitement.

“Chocolate chip?” His voice young, almost childlike.

“Do you even need to ask?” Her voice fond, always motherly.

“Thanks, Pearl!” He chuckles. He half-skips. He snatches his car keys from the desk and all but slaps the door handle. “Love you.”

“Love you too.”

He winks his final goodbye, twists the knob and in a brief flash of golden sunlight, disappears into the day. The door clicks to a merry close behind the shuffle and haste of his heels.

And Pearl is left alone, hands templed delicately in her lap, staring at a deadened Holo-Crystal that’s lying almost forlornly on its side. 

Her smile slips away from her mouth like falling sand the moment she thinks she’s safe.

She shuffles her papers again.

She stares, very quietly, at the crystal.

She looks, just as pointedly, away.

Occupies herself by touching her notes again, raking her fingers over all the words that give a form to the one secret she had kept to herself for thousands upon thousands of years—not entirely out of her own will.

She wasn’t lying to Steven when she said that she wanted to do this.

She was lying about the fact that she was fine to do it.

Somehow, in the tangle of her own head, it makes sense to her that these sensations are not mutually exclusive. It’s perfectly compatible to want to do something that’s scary and still feel intensely scared about doing it.

Fear doesn’t stop at the threshold of a made decision. 

After all, if fear had ever stopped her from doing what she wanted, then she would have never loved Rose Quartz.

So she stares at the Holo-Crystal, and then she emphatically doesn’t.

Tries to distract herself.

(Eight minutes til…. seven.)

Fails. 

Abruptly gets out of her chair, a sudden restlessness in her lanky limbs, and begins to pace the floor, sunlight from the nearby window dusting her skin gold in square patches, in slivers. When only one minute remains, and the Holo-Crystal suddenly glows a bright, electric blue as a warning alert to a scheduled call, she throws herself back into the chair as forcibly as possible and tries to arrange her face into an expression that’s just as equally cool.

Focused.

Put together.

Fifty seconds…

She pushes a hand through her hair and hates herself for doing so; assuredly, she just ruffled it, and now her hair will be a rumpled mess on a hologram for time immemorial.

Thirty seconds…

What in stars’ name does she do with her hands? Arrange them on the desk? Temple them on her lap? Place them stiffly by her sides? She settles for some awkward combination of the three—templing them on the smooth surface of her desk with her elbows at stiff angles.

It’s highly uncomfortable.

Twenty seconds…

She could bail now, and Steven wouldn’t think the worse of her for it. She’d join him at the beach house after he returned from the grocery store, and he’d help her make the cookie dough and never say a word as to her cowardice. Perhaps he would even be relieved that she decided not to go through with her intentions in the first place. After all, they weren’t strictly necessary… that was one of his arguments even… someone else could do it… could tell her story… and it would all be the same.

Ten seconds…

But she wouldn’t be relieved.

She wouldn’t be proud of herself.

She could live with herself, yes, but she wouldn’t be able to forget that when the opportunity came to speak her truth freely, she refused to, denying a voice that had already been long denied.

So many times over.

From the very first moment she emerged into the world as a gem whose highest and only pleasure was to serve.

Five seconds… the Holo-Crystal begins to blink rapidly, throwing its frenetic hues in quick pulses across her desk.

And so she has to do this then.

Four seconds…

She wants to.

Three seconds…

It’s her narrative and no one else’s.

Two seconds…

Not even Rose’s.

One second…

Maybe especially not hers, even if she isn’t ready to admit that yet, to face that raw fact.

In a diamond shaped burst of energy, the Holo-Crystal throws its projection upwards with a series of gem glyphs that she reads with both trepidation and ease: ACCEPT FEED? YES OR NO?

Breaking the solemn temple of her fingers, swallowing her electric, jangling nerves, Pearl, against all her better judgment, presses yes, and the glyphs fall away, replaced by a live portrait of a gem who somehow looks exactly like Pearl feels. 

Arctic eyes wide.

Charcoaled beneath with thousands of years worth of shadows.

Brow furrowed with indecision.

With hesitancy.

With all the indelicate trappings of fear.

“Blue Diamond,” Pearl greets coolly, jerking her head in a stiff nod. Somewhere deep in her gem, an odd impulse to salute pulls at her facets.

“Pearl,” the Diamond returns softly, almost wonderingly—as though the name is unfamiliar on her tongue. In a way, it likely is. The Diamonds once viewed the Pearls as objects as opposed to gems and referred to them in such a way.

The Pearls.

Our Pearls.

They were interchangeable.

They were possessions.

In the Reef, they even came with accessories: staffs and wands and batons.

“Thank you for consenting to do this,” Pearl continues in that same clipped but professional tone. “I think this will be an important entry in the Archive.”

“Aye,” comes the quiet reply, thoughtful. “Yellow and White don’t quite understand it entirely yet, but there is rationality in this—in proffering the fullest account of our history for anyone to access it if they so choose. It’s about preserving her… all of our legacies—the good, the bad, and the ugly.”

Pearl is suddenly reminded that of the three remaining Diamonds, Blue was the one who upheld the human zoo, who perceived it as a relic and immortalized it as such.

Steven had told her about all of those bubbled Rose Quartzes.

Dozens of them.

Hundreds.

Made to cover the illusion of Rose’s identity.

Punished for a crime that they didn’t perpetrate. 

Perfectly preserved in stasis and purgatory for thousands of aching years.

“And so often the ugly,” Pearl emphasizes scathingly, and it’s a condemnation of them all—of Rose for making the Quartzes, of Pearl for being complicit, of Blue Diamond for imprisoning them and calling it mercy.

“Yes,” Blue agrees faintly, new lines forming beneath her eyes. “We did some terrible things…”

Her demureness and her honesty irritate Pearl for some reason—perhaps because she didn’t expect them, or perhaps because she very well did and still finds that they ring false, insincere, affected. How could they not in the face of millennia worth of cruelty and injustice? How can two years of positive growth overturn the effects of two hundred thousand?

Perhaps it’s simply that she believes in action as correctives and atonements.

Perhaps she doesn’t trust mere words, even though this is what this entire event is all about in the end—mere words. 

Perhaps she wants to see it in Blue Diamond’s eyes for herself—the change in them, the repentance.

And perhaps, at the very same time, she doesn’t want to look too closely in case she finds precisely what she’s looking for.

“Yes,” she repeats primly. “You did, and today is about looking backwards to that, about assessing all the things we did and didn’t do—on both sides of the war.”

Blue Diamond absorbs this all quietly, looking downwards, strands of silvery-blue hair falling from her neat parting and across her tall forehead.

“How exactly do we do that?” She asks. “Where do we even begin?”

Admittedly, they’re both excellent questions, and now it’s Pearl’s turn to glance down, to recognize the scrawl of all her neatly organized notes and suddenly realize that they feel insufficient for the task at hand, bare.

The word love crops up so many times, but nothing is said about the overwhelming force of that love—the all-consuming dimensions of it.

How Pearl would have been content to stay in Rose’s presence forever, and that alone would have been enough.

And how complicated that same love was.

How it was sometimes tangled in programming and servitude.

And how at other times, it was dangerous, bold, revolutionary, transcendent.

And how it hurt sometimes.

Perhaps even all the time.

Love so deep that it felt like pain.

Even English doesn’t have the capacity to describe those complexities of emotion.

Even language itself.

“Well,” she begins hesitantly, before she has all of her words in order, “when I press record… we simply have to… you know… talk about it, about everything that led up to the Corruption Song, sparing no detail.”

“Simple, is it?” Blue Diamond asks quietly, and there is slight admonishment in the question, ancient sadness in her geometric eyes, in all the lines and shadows beneath them.

“No,” Pearl replies, glancing away from the screen. “Not at all.”

Loving Pink Diamond was so many things.

It was not, in fact, simple.

“But it’s important,” she continues, her voice gaining strength, “maybe even necessary for us to at least try to tell our stories as fully as we can because she never felt like she could tell her own.”

“That must have been so lonely for her,” Blue whispers, anguished, the words half-caught in her throat.

Pearl forces herself to look at the diamond portrait again.

To search the other’s expression.

To acknowledge the truth in it.

The love.

The pain.

The love that feels so much like pain.

“It was, I think,” Pearl murmurs. “She wanted to be everyone else but herself—on that day. On all the days afterwards as we recovered the shards of our companions, as we had to fight their corrupted selves. Maybe even until the very end when she became Steven.”

And this, she thinks, is the fundamental truth of Rose Quartz above all, one she doesn’t think she’ll share with the rest of the universe, one she thinks will keep between herself and Steven and now… Blue Diamond.

Rose loved the entire world.

She was moved by it. Endlessly.

She loathed herself.

And seemingly the entire world—Pearl included—pedestalized her.

“We did that to her,” Blue says, and there’s venom in her voice, an air of admission. She brings her tall hands upwards and spiders them across her face. “We… I… never told her that she was good enough. I required her facets to be perfect and scolded her—punished her—every time she so much as toed our harsh lines.”

“You never told her that you loved her,” Pearl says, and there’s solemnity in her voice, an air of accusation. She clenches her own hands on top of the surface of her notes.

Glyphs interspersed with words.

Pain.

Love.

Grief.

“And when you finally showed that you did,” Pearl continues, closing her eyes at the memory of a world being swallowed in white light, of a sky being rent by the echoes of so many thousands of gems screaming to the same tune of the Diamonds’ feral, wailing song, “you destroyed nearly an entire population to do it… all of you… together.”

“Yes,” Blue Diamond can only utter between the gaps in her fingertips.

There is nothing else she can really say.

No defense against the indefensible.

“This is the story we have to tell,” Pearl finishes unsparingly, and yet, at the very moment she does, she leans backwards in her chair, suddenly exhausted, completely drained, as though she’s already done all the telling and the reckoning and the processing and the labor.

But she’s only scarcely begun.

They both have.

“Not only for this project… but for ourselves, too. We owe ourselves that, at least—the ability to claim everything that we’ve done.”

“Or”—Blue finally lets her hands fall away from her face, leaving only the carnage of overbright eyes behind—“that has been done to you.”

She’s talking about her own atrocities—this Pearl immediately intuits—but Pearl thinks about a different Diamond instead.

A covered mouth.

A hibiscus flower.

And command to never speak of this again.

Because no one can know.

“Yes,” Pearl can only utter.

There is nothing else she can really say.

No defense against the indefensible.

They lapse into silence then, the static from the hologram’s particles humming in the still air.

“It’s a tragic story,” Blue Diamond says, “but I believe you're correct… we have to tell it anyway. For that very reason—so other gems will know the truth… and remember it… remember her.”

Pearl slowly reaches forward to grab the Holo-Crystal, her fingers hovering just above the recording mechanism.

“It’s a story about love,” she quietly asserts, renegade defiance in her voice. “About all different kinds of it, really.”

“The good, the bad, and the ugly.”

And so often the ugly.

“It was complicated,” Pearl only says and presses record.

It’s not an admission here; she's already admitted to this fact—several times over.

To anyone who will listen.

(No one really does.)

Rather, it's a tiny kindness.

Maybe to Blue Diamond.

Maybe to herself.

And maybe even to the memory of the long dead ghost who sits in the space of the thousands of lightyears between them, hands beneath her chin, smiling gently at some beautiful thing that she just saw.

A flower, perhaps.

A human.

An infinite, changing sky.

A world where she could perhaps learn to love herself in the same way that she loved others.

Entirely.

[mcatra]

Catra works at Burger King pt 3

catradora in ther modern party clothes!

AO3

pt1/2

Catra was currently studying in the library, trying to work her way through a math problem. 

Her place didn't have internet, so she usually alternated between the school wifi, the public library, and Burger King. Lonnie usually let her study in the break room when the libraries closed up. 

Her phone pings with a message, obviously from Adora. 

Catra picks up her phone and unlocks it, eyebrow raising when she sees the message. 

Adora: 

Wyd? 

Catra sighs. Of course that airheaded jock texted like a frat boy. As much as she wanted to leave her on read, a deal was a deal. 

Catra: 

Studying. 

Adora: 

So diligent! You're so cool, Catra :) 

Adora: 

I'm weightlifting right now! Gotta work off all those BK calories 💪

Great, maybe she will leave her alone to go do her workout. 

Adora: 

[image.attachment]

Catra almost drops her phone when she sees the photo Adora sent. It was a shot of her by the mirror, and she was flexing with a dumbbell. She was wearing a black crop top, which framed her abs perfectly.  What was she doing, getting flustered over what, a gym rat photo that looked like it belonged on a Tinder profile? After much gay panic and debate, Catra takes a photo of herself with her middle finger up to the camera. She taps ‘send’ angrily. 

Catra: 

[image.attachment] 🖕 She doesn't get a response for a few minutes, which was odd. Usually Adora typed back at the speed of lightning. 

Ping. 

Adora: 

wow Ur rlly hot  Catra looks at the text, slack jawed. What the hell? 

Adora: 

Oh my god I am so sorry. That was Glimmer, she took my phone. 

Catra could almost scream, but she was in a public library. She settles for furiously chewing her out, sharp nails flying over the keyboard. 

Catra: 

Plz make Ur excuses more believable. It's so unoriginal I can't even post this on r/OopsDidntMeanTo. 

Adora: 

I really didn't mean to 🥺

Adora: 

I mean 

Adora: 

Glimmer didn't mean to  God, Adora was so stupid. Yet here Catra was, blushing like a fool. When she doesn’t answer for a while, her phone starts pinging again with notifications. 

>Adora liked your photo

>Adora liked your status >Adora reacted to your comment >Adora liked your photo

It goes on for another 23 times and Catra scrolls through it, dumbfounded. Unblocking her was a mistake. 

---- 

As promised, Adora would visit her garage when her shifts were over bringing groceries. In exchange Catra would cook, as it seemed like Adora would burn water if she tried. 

It started off as a weekly thing, but in a true Adora-like fashion it ended up like this everyday. They would talk for hours, catching up on their lost years together. 

Adora talked about all sorts of things, like how hard it was adjusting to the soft beds at first and how she requested a hard one. She told her about the contents of the letters she would send to Catra that never went received. Catra just listened, gratified to hear that Adora missed her in their time apart even half as much as she did. 

They would sing the little songs they invented back when they were kids and make up whole new ones as they waited for the food. Adora even started learning how to cook after watching Catra, and she would barge in uninvited with new recipes. The food tasted better with company, and Adora took great pleasure in piling her seconds. 

Catra would show her the local dumpster and they would go scavenging for items they needed. She taught her how to repair the things they found using Youtube tutorials, and how to disinfect them. It was fun watching Adora try to haggle for prices at the market, or her face when she realized she had to use the outhouse to go to the bathroom at Catra’s. 

Days bleed into months, their easygoing friendship making Catra feel at peace for the first time in forever. 

Right now they were currently in their trial exam period, which functioned both as practice for their final exams and half of their final marks. They were sitting in the library, chatting about their future majors. 

Catra taps a pencil to her chin. ‘Let me guess, you want to do art. No, art history.’

‘Political science, actually! Did you know Eternia University has  the  number one ranked Political Science course in the entire country?' Adora says, flipping through the uni coursebook. 

'Wao, future leader of the free world huh? That's kinda hot.' Catra teases, while Adora swats her in embarrassment. 

'What about you?' 

'Double degree of Law and Social Work.' Catra replies. 'Cliche I know. But I just want to be in a position where I can sue the shit out of Shadow Weaver. The system is corrupt, and there's thousands of kids being abused.' 

'Wow, you're so cool Catra.' Adora says in awe. 'You're so smart, you'd definitely get in.' 

'Damn right.' She scoffs, crossing her arms. 

'You're gonna love Eternia. I went to their open day, the campus is gorgeous. Oh my gosh we could dorm together!' 

'Gross, who'd want to be  your  roommate?' 

'You  would.' 

'Ew, you're so full of yourself. Anyway get off me, I have work soon and I need to get changed.' 

'Ah yes, the cute Burger King apron. I never get tired of it.' 

They would always flirt back and forth like this, but nothing ever came out of it. 

With her friendship came the feelings that she had repressed long ago, unknotting and resurfacing like they had never gone at all. However she had no idea if Adora even liked her in that way, given how affectionate she was with Bow and Glimmer. She was popular with boys and girls alike, but she never dated anyone. Catra never dared to ask. 

Once Adora had fallen asleep in Catra's bed, and the brunette had woken up to the other girls arm around her and their feet tangled together. It reminded her of when they shared the bed as kids, but now they were grown up and this kind of thing didn't have an innocent meaning anymore. Having her there made her heart race and her palms sweaty.

She had wanted to kiss her then. She wanted to kiss her now. Catra wanted every single morning to end up like that. 

-- 

Adora:

Your birthday is soon! Did you want anything?

You  , Catra thinks, like a huge sap. 

Catra:

My sanity back. 

Adora: 

Oh my gosh, we could throw you a party at my place! You’re turning 18 right? We could go out drinking! Angella has this amazing vintage wine collection and I could make cocktails!  

Catra receives another wall of text, basically planning the entirety of this birthday party with Bow being the DJ and how Glimmer could make these buns that were to die for. Adora starts going through the entire party guest list until she has to cut in. 

Catra: 

lol calm down 

Adora: 

Does this mean Ur on board? 🎉

Catra: 

yes fine since you won't shut up about it 

Adora: 

AAAAAAAH YOU'RE THE BEST!!!!!!! ♥️♥️♥️♥️ U WILL NOT REGRET THIS 

DW I WILL PLAN EVERYTHING <3333 

💗💖💖😻

The excessive amount of heart emojis make Catra grin dumbly into her palm. 

She's glad they're not video chatting, or Adora would've already taken a screenshot. 

---

It’s the day of her 18th birthday, and she’s nearing the end of her shift. The best friend squad were waiting for her at their usual table so they could give her a ride. 

‘Hey Catra. Can I speak to you out back?’ Lonnie asks, gesturing outside. 

What the heck, did she do something wrong?  It’s been pretty peaceful as of late, and Catra tries to remember if she had done anything to Kyle recently. She nods, chucking her apron at the back as she tries not to notice Adora’s eyes following her. 

 Catra goes out to the back of the store, the night air nipping at her shoulders. Lonnie waits for her there, biting her lip.

‘What’s up? Don’t tell me you’re giving me a raise.’ Catra jokes. 

Lonnie looks conflicted, and she takes a big breath. 

‘I’m sorry but our store isn’t doing so well. I know you’re turning 18, and that means we can’t afford to keep you on anymore.’

‘What…?’ 

Catra felt numb, like she wasn’t really there in the back alley with Lonnie. It felt like an out of body experience. She could only stare at her, betrayed. 

Like Lonnie could read her mind, she tries to correct herself. ‘It wasn’t my decision, it was Octavia’s.’

Of course it was. Her regional manager was the reason she could never just swipe food while she was working. Octavia never liked her, she always reviewed the security cameras and told her off for goofing around. She must’ve known the door incident was on Catra’s shift, and what really happened despite Adora’s cover up. This ‘layoff’ was just an excuse to get rid of her from a financial standpoint. 

‘Thank you for all your hard work over these past 3 years. I know you’re going through a rough time, so we will of course give you a recommendation.’

Catra just nods. 

She returns to her shift, robotically going through the motions. Catra doesn’t even say anything sassy when Adora asks for a burger with no patty and no onions and no sauce, only cheese on bread.

The lack of a clever comeback to their gag routine has Adora concerned. ‘Are you okay?’ 

Of course she wasn’t. How could she be? She was going to have to vacate her garage space, not like she had anywhere to put her furniture in. What the hell was she going to do? 

‘I’m fine.’ She says, even though tears were threatening to burn a hole in the back of her eyelids. ‘Just...rough day.’ 

‘It’s your birthday! The party will cheer you up.’ Bow says brightly. ‘I have the sickest playlist of all time, you're gonna love it.' 

'My mum isn’t home so we have free reign over the entire house! Come on girl, let's get you changed!' Glimmer crows, too excited about the party to pick up on Catra's mood. 'Makeover time!!' 

The two of them force her into Glimmer's Mercedes, on their way to buy every alcohol imaginable from the bottle shop before they go to her house. 

The last thing Catra wanted to do was play dress up or even go to her party, but Adora had planned for so long for this. It would definitely ruin the entire night if she refused to go. 

Out of all the times they had hung out, she’s never been to Adora’s house. She leans her head against the window when they drive into the fancy part of town, by the lakeside with the multi-million dollar yachts parked in the water. 

That still doesn't prepare Catra for when security lets them in through the black gates to the biggest mansion she’s ever seen. There were fountains, perfectly manicured lawns, a tennis court, and was that  a helicopter pad?! 

It was incredible, she had only seen this kind of luxury in the movies. So Glimmer was rich , rich. No wonder she was put out that Adora had her 18th birthday at Burger King. 

Catra looks at Adora with a dumbfounded expression as the attendants let them in, and the blonde looks almost embarrassed when they have to get into an elevator to go to her room. 

Glimmer picks out a hybrid of clothes from her and Adora's closets. The walk-in wardrobe is huge, like a department store full of designer clothes, shoes, jewellery and bags. 

Her wardrobe alone is the size of Catra's home. The brunette suddenly understands why Adora cried upon seeing her concrete garage space. Looking at it, she wanted to cry too. 

Glimmer sets her down on her huge poster bed as she brings out a checkered crop top, ripped black garter shorts and an expensive looking black leather jacket with a gold trim. While Catra reluctantly gets changed, Glimmer picks out a pair of black strappy heeled boots and a hair straightener to battle the bush on Catra’s head. 

She sits still while Glimmer goes to work on her face, bringing out an entire Sephora’s worth of makeup. When Catra looks in the vanity mirror, she almost doesn’t recognize herself. Her eyes were framed with false eyelashes, a swooping cateye, smokey eyeshadow, sharp contour and her lips were now cherry red with bold lipstick. Glimmer applies the finishing touches with silver rings and clip on piercings. 

She hears Adora inhale with shock from the staircase in her bedroom. 

‘Catra you look incredible !’ She gasps. Adora was wearing this cute backless white dress tied with strings, short enough that it cropped above her knees. She was wearing sparkly wedges to go with it, and her hair was curled instead of her usual ponytail. Her delicate gold sword necklace frames her collarbones. 

Catra’s throat goes dry. ‘Uh- You too.’ 

 Glimmer smirks, satisfied with her work. She gets changed into her own outfit, a short purple tulle lace dress with a white fur trim and a cute Gucci clutch to accompany it. The pink haired girl spritzes them all with her various floral and sea spray scented perfumes before they head back downstairs.

‘Wow you guys look amazing!’ Scorpia marvels, and Adora’s friends voice their approval as well. 

‘Gosh this place is crazy.’ Scorpia whispers to Catra. ‘Did you see their pool? We should’ve just held the swimming carnival here!’ 

Catra opens her mouth to tell her how Lonnie had let her go, but Sea Hawk’s booming voice interrupts them. 

'I challenge you to the ultimate game of BEER PONG!' Sea Hawk announces, spinning the ball on his fingertips. 

Of course this gets everyone's competitive spirit going, and everyone gets into pairs. 

After a few drinks Catra has almost forgotten what she was worrying about earlier, too focused on the buzz. Her and Adora demolish the other teams by a landslide with their impeccable aim. 

Soon the attendants came out with dinner, and it was lavish with every food you could imagine. Lobster, kobe beef, hor d'oeuvres, beluga caviar, kale, and opulent ice cream were all among the plates of food on the table. They bring out a massive 3 tiered truffle cake, the words 'Happy Birthday' written with an oddly crude drawing of Catra. 

'You drew this?' She asks, and Adora nods happily. 'You worked so hard on mine, so.' Catra doesn’t have the heart to tell her that the cake was $7 and the drawing of her forehead was meant as an insult.  They sing the birthday song for her, and this time no one brings up the cake cutting tradition. 

 After dinner they sit outside in the garden around the bonfire Sea Hawk had made. He was drunkenly singing a loud shanty while Bow piled in the wood, fanning the flames. Frosta sips on a mocktail, the only one there who wasn’t old enough to drink yet. The fire flickers and dances, casting shadows around them. 

Catra downs a few more cocktails and jello shots as she waits for Mermista to light up some fireworks. Apparently it was illegal, but Mermista just waved her off, telling her that she’ll just pay the penalty fee as Catra’s birthday gift. Sea Hawk really did rub off on her. 

When she successfully sets them off they light up the sky in dazzling multicoloured sparks. Adora’s friends whoop with glee, taking photos and videos to commemorate the moment. 

Adora's side profile is lit up in the dark, and she looks impossibly beautiful among the backdrop of stars. Longing tears at her chest, Catra wants to hold her hand but her throat feels too tight and she can’t move. The truth was that she knew she had always had feelings for Adora, even back when they were just kids back in the foster home. But like a coward, she could never voice them for fear of Adora leaving her side. 

A loud neighing can be heard from the stables in response to the loud booming noises from the fireworks. 

'Swifty!' Adora says, standing up. The moment's breaks and Catra reels back her hand. 'Stay here, I'll be right back.' 

Her chance disappears, she couldn’t say it after all. She watches her go tend to her horse, feeling stupid. 

‘Yoohoo~, want a rematch?’ Sea Hawk calls out from the patio, pouring vodka into tiny glasses. 

‘Don’t mind if I do.’ Catra replies. She definitely didn’t know her alcohol tolerance levels yet, so it was the perfect time to take that to the test. 

Catra confidently does a whole line of shots, determined to drink herself into unconsciousness. Every time she sees a flash of Lonnie or Adora’s face in her mind, she takes another swig. Everyone is cheering her on, screaming the song ‘Shots’ over and over again, also all drunk out of their minds. Sea Hawk taps out at the 5th drink, and everyone screams at Catra’s flawless victory. Scorpia lifts her into the air to do a victory lap, cheering. 

Adora finally makes an appearance, alerted by the sound of Catra's shrieky laughter as Scorpia swings her around. 

‘Don’t worry, I can take it from here.’ Her school captain says pulling Catra away from her friend. Scorpia just shrugs and makes her way to the food table. ‘Catra, maybe you should slow down.’ Adora tells the giggling girl in her arms. 

‘Noo way.’ She slurs, she was enjoying the feeling too much, the alcohol burning through her body, making her feel lightheaded. The light up disco dancefloor starts to blur into a kaleidoscope of colours. 

‘You got some weed?’ Catra asks, seeing Perfuma light a bowl. The taller girl hands her an already rolled up one and Catra snatches it to take a long drag. The smoke hits her lungs and she starts coughing. 

‘Oi Perfuma, why did you bring drugs? Angella will kill me!' Adora gripes, trying to wrestle the blunt away from Catra. 

‘Aw don't be like that! I made some edibles for you guys to try.’ Perfuma says cheerfully, pointing to the pot brownies. 

‘See? Scorpia likes them.’ She gestures at the other girl, who seemed to be currently tripping out of her mind and eating everything on the table. 

Catra goes to reach for one, but Adora grabs her by the wrist to lead her back inside. 'Alright, you're done for the night. Everyone say bye!' 

‘Byee Catra!’

‘Happy birthday!!’

Adora grabs her by the waist to lead her to her bedroom, Catra wobbling after her in the heels Glimmer lent her. 

'Ugh Adoraaa, don't be such a party pooper. I'm fine.' She moans, leaning heavily on the other girl. 'Don't you have a shift tomorrow afternoon? I don't want you getting hungover or drug tested.' Adora chides, rummaging around the dark for the light switch. 

Catra snorts. 'Oh you don't have to worry about  that  anymore. Got laid off.' 

Adora looks at her in confusion, until realization dawns on her. 'Wait, is that why Lonnie took you outside?' 

'Say, I never got to give you  your  birthday gift.' Catra pushes her hair back, voice sultry as she flings off her jacket. She never pinned herself down as a horny drunk, but here they were. Catra shoves Adora onto the bed, straddling her. Her golden hair spills over the mattress, soft like spun silk. 

'You still want that kiss?' Catra whispers in Adora's now burning red ear. 'My knife touched the bottom.' 

Adora's face now resembled a fire truck, mouth gaping in shock.

'C-Catra, I…' 

Catra presses their lips together, silencing her. She knows she probably tastes like alcohol and weed right now, but she couldn't care less in the moment. Adora's mouth is still slack jawed from mortification, so she takes the opportunity for tongue. She frowns and moves down to her neck when Adora doesn’t return the kiss. 

'Catra, what are you doing-' 

Catra bites down on Adora's nape. The blonde underneath her lets out a soft gasp, arching her back. Her gold manicured nails dig into her shoulder. 

'Stop, you're not thinking straight-!' 

'Sure ain't.' Catra grins, licking a stripe down the base of her neck. Adora’s necklace chain jingles with the movement. There was now an impressive hickey there, blooming violet on her pale skin. She pauses to admire her handiwork. 

'This isn't you talking, you'll, you'll regret this in the morning.' Adora stutters. She's shivering, their hands now laced together, silver rings clanking. 

'I know. I don't care.' She replies, kissing her again. Adora's teeth nick her lip. The alcohol in her system makes her feel lightheaded, confident. No way would she have managed this sober. Adora tastes better than she does, sweet like blueberry soju. Catra's hands wander down further, pulling the strings to untie the back of her dress-

'Catra stop!'  Adora suddenly shouts, striking Catra across the cheek in a deafening  slap . 

Adora's eyes were blazing, almost teary in the dark. Her breathing was irregular, panting in and out. Catra stills, clutching her cheek. The look in her eyes sobered her immediately. 

Adora looks down at her palm, realizing what she just did. 'Sorry for hitting you!' She flounders. 'It's just that, you're only doing this because you’re drunk and upset, right?’

Catra just stares at her before climbing off. Cold realization settles as the fog in her brain clears. 'You're right. Forget it.' 

She sits on the edge of the bed, numbly watching Adora hurriedly trying to re-tie the back of her now wrinkled dress. Her lips are stained with Catra’s red lipstick. Adora catches her looking, and she quickly turns away to smooth down her hair with her fingers. 'You've had more than enough to drink tonight. I’ll get you some water to clear your head.’

She gets up to turn on the light switch, and Catra blinks in the harsh light from the chandeliers.  ‘Come on, let’s get you sobered up, okay?’ Adora leads her to the kitchen on the same floor, gingerly placing her friend on the slippery bar stool. 

The blonde goes to get the chilled jug of infused water from the fridge and pours it into a glass. Adora slides it across the island, and Catra reluctantly takes it. She sips at it, mint and lemon on her tongue. It tasted way better than her hose water. 

‘I’ll uh, pick out some groceries for you since we’re here and all.’ Adora says awkwardly into the silence, turning around to rummage through her pantry. 

Suddenly Catra is brought back to the whole reason why she was sitting here in this oversized mansion in the first place. Their friendship agreement. The one she had just violated. Catra had never felt more stupid to mistake Adora’s kindness and guilt for actual feelings. She felt like a charity case, waiting to collect food from the soup kitchen.

Of course Adora didn't like her back. She just saw her as someone needing to be saved. The product of survival guilt. Catra wanted to whack her head on the corner of her marbled countertop and not wake up. 

Adora takes out a green plastic bag, and starts filling it with everything and anything she can get. Cans, pasta, biscuits, fruits and vegetables. Actually this feeling was more like being one of those poor kids that white girls would pose next to for their Instagram after their trip to Africa.  Did Adora have fun, volunteering to slum it up in her place while she returned here? All she ever wanted her entire life was to be Adora’s equal. 

Scorpia and Sea Hawk's loud laughter and DJ music can be heard downstairs in the garden, beyond the tall golden trimmed windows. The class difference between them stretched like an unfathomable canyon. Living the classy bougie dream until the clock struck midnight and she was back in her run down garage. Except soon she won’t even have that anymore. Why did Adora have to bring her here? It was almost cruel. 

Catra's suddenly overcome with the urge to vomit. She nearly falls off the high chair in her rush to throw up the unholy cocktail of alcohol into the sink. Tears bead in her eyes from the sour taste as she continues to vomit out everything she ate that night. She can feel Adora by her side, patting her back reassuringly.

It was by far the worst birthday she has ever had. 

 --

The morning of, Catra woke up in Adora’s bed with a splitting headache. 

Unfortunately she was  not given the gift of amnesia, as she vividly remembered every last excruciating detail about last night. 

She spots Adora’s mop of blonde hair under a blanket on the floor, even though there were a billion other free spare rooms to sleep in. Adora was probably too afraid to share the same bed as her now.

Catra’s borrowed crop top digs uncomfortably into her skin, and she angrily flings it off her body. The shorts stick to her like a second skin, smelling of tequila. She grabs her old Burger King uniform and puts it on, though even this didn’t belong to her now. 

Adora shifts in her sleep, and Catra lightly steps over her to get to the door. The last thing she wanted was for Adora to wake up. 

As soon as she’s out, she runs out to the elevator and bangs frantically on the buttons until it sends her to the bottom floor. The lift opens with a  ding  and in her haste she almost crashes headfirst into Glimmer. 

‘Oh hey! Are you going to work?’ Glimmer greets. She was in her silk pajamas and slippers, holding a glass of orange juice. 

‘Uh. Yeah.’ Catra lies, trying her best to look natural. 

‘Some party last night huh? Lucky today is a Saturday.’ Glimmer says conversationally, unaware of Catra’s urge to throw her across the room. ‘Hey, what happened to your cheek?’

Catra clutches her face, it still strung from where Adora struck her. ‘Nothing.’

Glimmer raises an eyebrow. ‘Well anyway, did you wanna stick around for  breakfast? The cooks made pancakes, bacon, eggs, the whole deal.' She peeks behind Catra. 'Is Adora  still  not up yet?’ 

As much as Catra wanted to scream  get out of my way she schools her expression to her best customer service smile. ‘Nope she’s still sleeping it off. Anyway I’m gonna be late so I can’t stick around.’

‘Did you need a lift?’ Glimmer asks. It dawns on the brunette she couldn’t exactly run the entire way back home. ‘I’ll ask one of the drivers to take you back so you make it to your shift.’

Catra thanks her lucky stars that Glimmer was still too hungover to drive her. She wouldn’t have been able to dodge her questions if she had. 

‘Yes please.’ Catra says, giddy with relief. ‘Thank you.’ 

‘Ooh and before I forget, Adora told me last night to give you this.’ Glimmer says, grabbing the green bag of groceries off the counter. The shorter girl bundles it into Catra’s arms before she can object. 

‘Get home safe.’ She says, waving as the attendant leads her out the door. 

Catra looks down at the cans of food in her arms and doesn’t say anything.  

 ------

The days leading up to graduation were painful, to say the least. 

They more or less pretend the kiss didn't happen. Adora never brings it up, and neither does Catra. 

She would stare at the ceiling, wishing she had never gotten piss drunk at her birthday and kissed her. Adora was right, she did regret it. It was awful, the look on Adora's face when she slapped Catra replays in her mind and nightmares over and over again. It was mortifying. 

Adora still messages her every 3 days, and Catra still replies, though her words are empty and devoid of banter.  I'm worried about you,  she says.  I'm fine , Catra always responds. 

The brunette continues to humour her to keep the peace, only shutting down when her old job was mentioned. Catra doesn’t allow Adora back into her home again. 

Sometimes they study together, but she can't concentrate when Adora wears her glasses. Her heart hurts, so she cradles her cheek and tries not to remember. 

The hickey she had branded Adora's neck with had been covered with foundation until it faded away. None of her friends had teased her about it, so she clearly had not told a single soul what had happened. 

Catra bites at the scab on her lip from where Adora’s teeth nicked her until it bleeds. She wants to apologize, but the words stick on her tongue and she can't bring herself to talk about that night. 

Catra knew Adora was only here by her side to alleviate her guilt. Shame buries itself under her skin every time she's near her, like she was too embarrassed to even exist in the same space as Adora. She wants to disappear. 

Exams are hard, and without an internet connection after the library closes at 6pm made it difficult to study. In her heart she knew she wasn't going to come out on top. Her ranking had slipped, she wasn't even at second place anymore. Rent was due at the end of the month, and without her Burger King wage she knew she'll be kicked out sooner than later. 

Catra felt stressed and self destructive, and the only thing that kept her from falling off the edge completely was Scorpia. As much as she hated depending on others, she'd much rather her old coworker than Adora. 

Her classmates seemed to like this new, muted down version of Catra who didn't argue and just stayed quiet most of the time. Fighting back was too difficult when all she wanted to do was blend into the wallpaper. All they talked about was where they were going for vacation after graduation, and Catra certainly had nothing to contribute to that conversation.

She felt like crying, all the time. It was agony, wanting to burst out into tears randomly while she sat wasting away in the student council room. Despite herself, she missed Burger King, and she just kept getting ghosted or rejected in her other job applications. Sometimes when she really wanted to indulge herself, she'd go cry silently in the school toilet stall. 

Glimmer notices the change, and she catches her glaring. 'You don't seem as alive lately. Your eye bags are huge.' 

'S'fine.' Catra replies, hiding her hands so she doesn't see how they shake. Honestly Catra couldn't remember the last time she slept.

'Pfft, don't lie to me. Adora's worried about you. You're getting skinnier, and your eyes are always raw. All you do is stare into space.' 

Catra bites down on her nails. Of course she knew that. But she's gone through this before, and she'll do it again. 

'What happened between you two?’ 

‘None of your business.’ Catra replies, shuffling her way to the hall. 

--

 Their graduation ceremony starts off uneventfully. Every student’s parents except Catra’s sit proudly in the audience, eager to watch their kid graduate. One by one they receive their certificate and return to their seats. 

Adora and Catra stand side by side onstage, as Adora makes their final speech as School Captain. Through the blinding lights, she sees Angella waving proudly at her adoptive daughter in the crowd. 

Catra looks at Adora in the corner of her eye. She must look pathetic, lovesick and pining after someone she couldn’t have. 

‘It’s been such an honour serving the entire faculty and students of this school. I couldn’t have done it without my amazing Vice-Captain and all of my prefects. Now I’m proud to hand over my badge to the next School Captain, Frosta.’ 

They go through the rest of the ceremony like that, each member of the student council handing their badges to their successors. 

Soon their Principal comes up to the podium, tapping it once and clearing her throat. 

‘Announcing our honor student, and the winner of the scholarship to Eternia University…’ Castaspella says, turning over the sign card. 

‘None other than our school captain, Adora!’

Everyone starts clapping, and Adora walks across the stage to shake Castaspella's hand. 

Sounded about right. Catra never won against Adora in her entire life. She had already expected this outcome. Like a game of cat and mouse, going over and over for all eternity. 

Adora would excel with her elite education and secure a well paying job. Catra would struggle at the bottom indefinitely, never amounting to anything. She never would, if Adora was still there next to her. When the blonde re-entered her life, everything she had been working towards for years just collapsed. Her job, her home, her School Captain status, her chance at the scholarship, her sanity. 

She had to be wiped clean. A fresh start. 

The flower petals were falling, the streets decorated with a vibrant pink. The other students mill out of the crowd with their parents, chatting excitedly about what was next in their futures. She waits for Adora underneath a tree.  

'Congratulations.' Catra says, when she finally spots the other girl in the crowd. Adora pulls away from Angella’s embrace to meet her. 

'You deserve this so much more than I do.' Adora says, her voice pained like she didn't just win a full ride to her dream university. 'You should take it.'

'It's in your name, silly.' Catra replies, lightly tapping her with her rolled up certificate.

'Besides, I knew you'd get into Eternia, so I never applied.'

Adora blinks dumbly. '...What? Aren’t we going to the same university?’ 

She always was a bit slow on the uptake. ‘Only  you  decided that, stuupid. Say, it's about time we ended this right?' 

‘Catra, what are you...' 

'Our deal. You don't need to feel guilty anymore or bring me anything.' Catra says, her voice sounding like it didn't belong to her. She rummages in her bag, bringing out Adora's spare varsity jacket that she hadn’t returned. 'Here, take this. Thank you for all the help.' 

'What do you mean? You want to stop being friends?' Adora says in disbelief, taking the jacket.  

Catra nods. ‘I can’t continue with the arrangement. I hope you understand.’ 

‘I don’t! Was I the only one who thought we were friends, real ones?’ Adora asks.

‘...That’s right. I never saw you as a friend. You were just a meal ticket to me. Are you happy now?’ Catra snaps back. Shit, that wasn’t what she meant to say. She had planned to end this quickly and painlessly, on a high note.  Trust Adora to put up a fight. 

Something seems to click in Adora’s brain. ‘Is this about the night of the party?’

‘Figure that out yourself.’ Catra replies, turning to walk away. 

Adora grabs onto her arm. ‘Wait! If- if that’s what you want, I’ll give it! Just don't go!' 

This dumb blonde really was offering up her body, out of what? A sense of duty? How stupid. 

‘Is that right?’ Catra says, walking closer to her. Adora backs up until she is pinned to the tree. They’re face to face now. 

‘Can you really do this?’ Catra lifts Adora’s chin by a finger. 

Finally it seems to dawn on Adora exactly what Catra wanted. She swallows, biting her lip. 

There’s a flicker of hesitation, before Adora’s eyes squeeze shut defiantly. The blonde is shaking like a leaf, her breath coming out in panicked stutters from her pursed lips. 

Catra just stares at Adora’s scrunched up face impassively. Her scared reaction was the only confirmation she needed for closure. 

She flicks the other girl’s forehead, and her big blue eyes open in confusion. ‘Chill out, I’m not that evil to do it to someone so unwilling.’

 Adora blinks, clutching her forehead. ‘Catra?’

Suddenly Angella’s voice cuts through their conversation from the car park. ‘Adora dear, are you done chatting with your friend? We have reservations!'

‘Um, I…’ Her old school captain opens her mouth to say something, but Angella's started to lose her patience. 'Adora, how long are you going to stand there? Glimmer is already waiting for us at the restaurant!' 

Catra just smiles tiredly. ‘Take care, dummy.’ 

She watches Adora being dragged off unwillingly by her adoptive mother to the car. 

Catra lets out a sigh. Her phone pings with a message from Scorpia, and she knows it's time to go. 

---

 By the time Angella releases her from their graduation celebration, Adora can feel that it's already too late.

 Adora: 

Please, can we talk? Let me fix this

A pop up appears over the screen. 

Message Not Sent

This person isn't receiving messages at this time. 

Adora sends another message, but they all go undelivered. Catra had blocked her again. Panic spikes through her veins, and she quickly dons on a jacket and grabs her car keys. 

She sneaks out that night, down the familiar winding path through the bush that led to Catra's place. 

'Catra?' She rolls up the garage door, blinking in the darkness. When her eyes adjusted, she found Catra's old home completely emptied. 

All the furniture and items her friend had collected over the years, they were all gone. The little stove where they cooked, the old mattress where they talked late into the night, all vanished like they were never there. 

A single green plastic bag remained on the floor untouched, filled to the brim of food. 

     catra working at BK fanart: 

https://twitter.com/huetrooper/status/1265188930741080064

https://twitter.com/quackelroys/status/1271199987540668416?s=20

https://mcatra.tumblr.com/post/620493235561824256/your-catra-works-at-burger-king-fic-is-great-you

 pt1, pt 2

Catra was currently studying in the library, trying to work her way through a math problem. 

Her place didn't have internet, so she usually alternated between the school wifi, the public library, and Burger King. Lonnie usually let her study in the break room when the libraries closed up. 

Her phone pings with a message, obviously from Adora. 

Catra picks up her phone and unlocks it, eyebrow raising when she sees the message. 

Adora: 

Wyd? 

Catra sighs. Of course that airheaded jock texted like a frat boy. As much as she wanted to leave her on read, a deal was a deal. 

Catra: 

Studying. 

Adora: 

So diligent! You're so cool, Catra :) 

Adora: 

I'm weightlifting right now! Gotta work off all those BK calories 💪

Great, maybe she will leave her alone to go do her workout. 

Adora: 

[image.attachment]

Catra almost drops her phone when she sees the photo Adora sent. It was a shot of her by the mirror, and she was flexing with a dumbbell. She was wearing a black crop top, which framed her abs perfectly. 

What was she doing, getting flustered over what, a gym rat photo that looked like it belonged on a Tinder profile? 

After much gay panic and debate, Catra takes a photo of herself with her middle finger up to the camera. She taps ‘send’ angrily. 

Catra: 

[image.attachment] 🖕

She doesn't get a response for a few minutes, which was odd. Usually Adora typed back at the speed of lightning. 

Ping. 

Adora: 

wow Ur rlly hot 

Catra looks at the text, slack jawed. What the hell? 

Adora: 

Oh my god I am so sorry. That was Glimmer, she took my phone. 

Catra could almost scream, but she was in a public library. She settles for furiously chewing her out, sharp nails flying over the keyboard. 

Catra: 

Plz make Ur excuses more believable. It's so unoriginal I can't even post this on r/OopsDidntMeanTo. 

Adora: 

I really didn't mean to 🥺

Adora: 

I mean 

Adora: 

Glimmer didn't mean to 

God, Adora was so stupid. Yet here Catra was, blushing like a fool. When she doesn’t answer for a while, her phone starts pinging again with notifications. 

>Adora liked your photo

>Adora liked your status >Adora reacted to your comment >Adora liked your photo

It goes on for another 23 times and Catra scrolls through it, dumbfounded. Unblocking her was  a mistake. 

---- 

As promised, Adora would visit her garage when her shifts were over bringing groceries. In exchange Catra would cook, as it seemed like Adora would burn water if she tried. 

It started off as a weekly thing, but in a true Adora-like fashion it ended up like this everyday. They would talk for hours, catching up on their lost years together. 

Adora talked about all sorts of things, like how hard it was adjusting to the soft beds at first and how she requested a hard one. She told her about the contents of the letters she would send to Catra that never went received. Catra just listened, gratified to hear that Adora missed her in their time apart even half as much as she did. 

They would sing the little songs they invented back when they were kids and make up whole new ones as they waited for the food. Adora even started learning how to cook after watching Catra, and she would barge in uninvited with new recipes. The food tasted better with company, and Adora took great pleasure in piling her seconds. 

Catra would show her the local dumpster and they would go scavenging for items they needed. She taught her how to repair the things they found using Youtube tutorials, and how to disinfect them. It was fun watching Adora try to haggle for prices at the market, or her face when she realized she had to use the outhouse to go to the bathroom at Catra’s. 

Days bleed into months, their easygoing friendship making Catra feel at peace for the first time in forever. 

Right now they were currently in their trial exam period, which functioned both as practice for their final exams and half of their final marks. They were sitting in the library, chatting about their future majors. 

Catra taps a pencil to her chin. ‘Let me guess, you want to do art. No, art history.’

‘Political science, actually! Did you know Eternia University has the number one ranked Political Science course in the entire country?' Adora says, flipping through the uni coursebook. 

'Wao, future leader of the free world huh? That's kinda hot.' Catra teases, while Adora swats her in embarrassment. 

'What about you?' 

'Double degree of Law and Social Work.' Catra replies. 'Cliche I know. But I just want to be in a position where I can sue the shit out of Shadow Weaver. The system is corrupt, and there's thousands of kids being abused.' 

'Wow, you're so cool Catra.' Adora says in awe. 'You're so smart, you'd definitely get in.' 

'Damn right.' She scoffs, crossing her arms. 

'You're gonna love Eternia. I went to their open day, the campus is gorgeous. Oh my gosh we could dorm together!' 

'Gross, who'd want to be your roommate?' 

'You would.' 

'Ew, you're so full of yourself. Anyway get off me, I have work soon and I need to get changed.' 

'Ah yes, the cute Burger King apron. I never get tired of it.' 

They would always flirt back and forth like this, but nothing ever came out of it. 

With her friendship came the feelings that she had repressed long ago, unknotting and resurfacing like they had never gone at all. However she had no idea if Adora even liked her in that way, given how affectionate she was with Bow and Glimmer. She was popular with boys and girls alike, but she never dated anyone. Catra never dared to ask. 

Once Adora had fallen asleep in Catra's bed, and the brunette had woken up to the other girls arm around her and their feet tangled together. It reminded her of when they shared the bed as kids, but now they were grown up and this kind of thing didn't have an innocent meaning anymore. Having her there made her heart race and her palms sweaty.

She had wanted to kiss her then. She wanted to kiss her now. Catra wanted every single morning to end up like that. 

-- 

Adora:

Your birthday is soon! Did you want anything?

You, Catra thinks, like a huge sap. 

Catra:

My sanity back. 

Adora: 

Oh my gosh, we could throw you a party at my place! You’re turning 18 right? We could go out drinking! Angella has this amazing vintage wine collection and I could make cocktails!  

Catra receives another wall of text, basically planning the entirety of this birthday party with Bow being the DJ and how Glimmer could make these buns that were to die for. Adora starts going through the entire party guest list until she has to cut in. 

Catra: 

lol calm down 

Adora: 

Does this mean Ur on board? 🎉

Catra: 

yes fine since you won't shut up about it 

Adora: 

AAAAAAAH YOU'RE THE BEST!!!!!!! ♥️♥️♥️♥️ U WILL NOT REGRET THIS 

DW I WILL PLAN EVERYTHING <3333 

💗💖💖😻

The excessive amount of heart emojis make Catra grin dumbly into her palm. 

She's glad they're not video chatting, or Adora would've already taken a screenshot. 

---

It’s the day of her 18th birthday, and she’s nearing the end of her shift. The best friend squad were waiting for her at their usual table so they could give her a ride. 

‘Hey Catra. Can I speak to you out back?’ Lonnie asks, gesturing outside. 

What the heck, did she do something wrong? It’s been pretty peaceful as of late, and Catra tries to remember if she had done anything to Kyle recently. She nods, chucking her apron at the back as she tries not to notice Adora’s eyes following her. 

Catra goes out to the back of the store, the night air nipping at her shoulders. Lonnie waits for her there, biting her lip.

‘What’s up? Don’t tell me you’re giving me a raise.’ Catra jokes. 

Lonnie looks conflicted, and she takes a big breath. 

‘I’m sorry but our store isn’t doing so well. I know you’re turning 18, and that means we can’t afford to keep you on anymore.’

‘What…’ 

Catra felt numb, like she wasn’t really there in the back alley with Lonnie. It felt like an out of body experience. She could only stare at her, betrayed. 

Like Lonnie could read her mind, she tries to correct herself. ‘It wasn’t my decision, it was Octavia’s.’

Of course it was. Her regional manager was the reason she could never just swipe food while she was working. Octavia never liked her, she always reviewed the security cameras and told her off for goofing around. She must’ve known the door incident was on Catra’s shift, and what really happened despite Adora’s cover up. This ‘layoff’ was just an excuse to get rid of her from a financial standpoint. 

‘Thank you for all your hard work over these past 3 years. I know you’re going through a rough time, so we will of course give you a recommendation.’

Catra just nods. 

She returns to her shift, robotically going through the motions. Catra doesn’t even say anything sassy when Adora asks for a burger with no patty and no onions and no sauce, only cheese on bread.

The lack of a clever comeback to their gag routine has Adora concerned. ‘Are you okay?’ 

Of course she wasn’t. How could she be? She was going to have to vacate her garage space, not like she had anywhere to put her furniture in. What the hell was she going to do? 

‘I’m fine.’ She says, even though tears were threatening to burn a hole in the back of her eyelids. ‘Just...rough day.’ 

‘It’s your birthday! The party will cheer you up.’ Bow says brightly. ‘I have the sickest playlist of all time, you're gonna love it.' 

'My mum isn’t home so we have free reign over the entire house! Come on girl, let's get you changed!' Glimmer crows, too excited about the party to pick up on Catra's mood. 'Makeover time!!' 

The two of them force her into Glimmer's Mercedes, on their way to buy every alcohol imaginable from the bottle shop before they go to her house. 

The last thing Catra wanted to do was play dress up or even go to her party, but Adora had planned for so long for this. It would definitely ruin the entire night if she refused to go. 

Out of all the times they had hung out, she’s never been to Adora’s house. She leans her head against the window when they drive into the fancy part of town, by the lakeside with the multi-million dollar yachts parked in the water. 

That still doesn't prepare Catra for when security lets them in through the black gates to the biggest mansion she’s ever seen. There were fountains, perfectly manicured lawns, a tennis court, and was that a helicopter pad?! 

It was incredible, Catra could only walk in a daze with her jaw dropped on their polished marble floors. So Glimmer was rich, rich. No wonder she was put out that Adora had her 18th birthday at Burger King. 

Catra looks at Adora with a dumbfounded expression, and the blonde looks almost embarrassed when they have to get into an elevator to go to her room. 

Glimmer picks out a hybrid of clothes from her and Adora's closets. The walk-in wardrobe is huge, like a department store full of designer clothes, shoes, jewellery and bags. 

Her wardrobe alone is the size of Catra's home. The brunette suddenly understands why Adora cried upon seeing her concrete garage space. Looking at it, she wanted to cry too. 

Glimmer sets her down on her huge poster bed as she brings out a checkered crop top, ripped black garter shorts and an expensive looking black leather jacket with a gold trim. While Catra reluctantly gets changed, Glimmer picks out a pair of black strappy heeled boots and a hair straightener to battle the bush on Catra’s head. 

She sits still while Glimmer goes to work on her face, bringing out an entire Sephora’s worth of makeup. When Catra looks in the vanity mirror, she almost doesn’t recognize herself. Her eyes were framed with false eyelashes, a swooping cateye, smokey eyeshadow, sharp contour and her lips were now cherry red with bold lipstick. Glimmer applies the finishing touches with silver rings and clip on piercings. 

She hears Adora inhale with shock from the staircase in her bedroom. 

‘Catra you look incredible!’ She gasps. Adora was wearing this cute backless white dress tied with strings, short enough that it cropped above her knees. She was wearing sparkly wedges to go with it, and her hair was curled instead of her usual ponytail. Her delicate gold sword necklace frames her collarbones. 

Catra’s throat goes dry. ‘Uh- You too.’ 

Glimmer smirks, satisfied with her work. She gets changed into her own outfit, a short purple tulle lace dress with a white fur trim and a cute Gucci clutch to accompany it. The pink haired girl spritzes them all with her various floral and sea spray scented perfumes before they head back downstairs.

‘Wow you guys look amazing!’ Scorpia marvels, and Adora’s friends voice their approval as well.

‘Gosh this place is crazy.’ Scorpia whispers to Catra. ‘Did you see their pool? We should’ve just held the swimming carnival here!’ 

Catra opens her mouth to tell her how Lonnie had let her go, but Sea Hawk’s booming voice interrupts them. 

'I challenge you to the ultimate game of BEER PONG!' Sea Hawk announces, spinning the ball on his fingertips. 

Of course this gets everyone's competitive spirit going, and everyone gets into pairs. 

After a few drinks Catra has almost forgotten what she was worrying about earlier, too focused on the buzz. Her and Adora demolish the other teams by a landslide with their impeccable aim. 

Soon the attendants came out with dinner, and it was lavish with every food you could imagine. Lobster, kobe beef, hor d'oeuvres, beluga caviar, kale, and opulent ice cream were all among the plates of food on the table.

They bring out a massive 3 tiered truffle cake, the words 'Happy Birthday' written with an oddly crude drawing of Catra. 

'You drew this?' She asks, and Adora nods happily. 'You worked so hard on mine, so.' Catra doesn’t have the heart to tell her that the cake was $7 and the drawing of her forehead was meant as an insult. 

They sing the birthday song for her, and this time no one brings up the cake cutting tradition. 

After dinner they sit outside in the garden around the bonfire Sea Hawk had made. He was drunkenly singing a loud shanty while Bow piled in the wood, fanning the flames. Frosta sips on a mocktail, the only one there who wasn’t old enough to drink yet. The fire flickers and dances, casting shadows around them. 

Catra downs a few more cocktails and jello shots as she waits for Mermista to light up some fireworks. Apparently it was illegal, but Mermista just waved her off, telling her that she’ll just pay the penalty fee as Catra’s birthday gift. Sea Hawk really did rub off on her. 

When she successfully sets them off they light up the sky in dazzling multicoloured sparks. Adora’s friends whoop with glee, taking photos and videos to commemorate the moment. 

Adora's side profile is lit up in the dark, and she looks impossibly beautiful among the backdrop of stars. Longing tears at her chest, Catra wants to hold her hand but her throat feels too tight and she can’t move. The truth was that she knew she had always had feelings for Adora, even back when they were just kids back in the foster home. But like a coward, she could never voice them for fear of Adora leaving her side. 

A loud neighing can be heard from the stables in response to the loud booming noises from the fireworks. 

'Swifty!' Adora says, standing up. The moment's breaks and Catra reels back her hand. 'Stay here, I'll be right back.' 

Her chance disappears, she couldn’t say it after all. She watches her go tend to her horse, feeling stupid. 

‘Yoohoo~, want a rematch?’ Sea Hawk calls out from the patio, pouring vodka into tiny glasses. 

‘Don’t mind if I do.’ Catra replies. She definitely didn’t know her alcohol tolerance levels yet, so it was the perfect time to take that to the test. 

Catra confidently does a whole line of shots, determined to drink herself into unconsciousness. Every time she sees a flash of Lonnie or Adora’s face in her mind, she takes another swig. Everyone is cheering her on, screaming the song ‘Shots’ over and over again, also all drunk out of their minds. Sea Hawk taps out at the 5th drink, and everyone screams at Catra’s flawless victory. Scorpia lifts her into the air to do a victory lap, cheering. 

Adora finally makes an appearance, alerted by the sound of Catra's shrieky laughter as Scorpia swings her around. 

‘Don’t worry, I can take it from here.’ Her school captain says pulling Catra away from her friend. Scorpia just shrugs and makes her way to the food table.

‘Catra, maybe you should slow down.’ Adora tells the giggling girl in her arms. 

‘Noo way.’ She slurs, she was enjoying the feeling too much, the alcohol burning through her body, making her feel lightheaded. The light up disco dancefloor starts to blur into a kaleidoscope of colours. 

‘You got some weed?’ Catra asks, seeing Perfuma light a bowl. The taller girl hands her an already rolled up one and Catra snatches it to take a long drag. The smoke hits her lungs and she starts coughing. 

‘Oi Perfuma, why did you bring drugs? Angella will kill me!' Adora gripes, trying to wrestle the blunt away from Catra. 

‘Aw don't be like that! I made some edibles for you guys to try.’ Perfuma says cheerfully, pointing to the pot brownies. 

‘See? Scorpia likes them.’ She gestures at the other girl, who seemed to be currently tripping out of her mind and eating everything on the table. 

Catra goes to reach for one, but Adora grabs her by the wrist to lead her back inside. 'Alright, you're done for the night. Everyone say bye!' 

‘Byee Catra!’

‘Happy birthday!!’

Adora grabs her by the waist to lead her to her bedroom, Catra wobbling after her in the heels Glimmer lent her. 

'Ugh Adoraaa, don't be such a party pooper. I'm fine.' She moans, leaning heavily on the other girl. 'Don't you have a shift tomorrow afternoon? I don't want you getting hungover or drug tested.' Adora chides, rummaging around the dark for the light switch. 

Catra snorts. 'Oh you don't have to worry about that anymore. Got laid off.' 

Adora looks at her in confusion, until realization dawns on her. 'Wait, is that why Lonnie took you outside?' 

'Say, I never got to give you your birthday gift.' Catra pushes her hair back, voice sultry as she flings off her jacket. She never pinned herself down as a horny drunk, but here they were. Catra shoves Adora onto the bed, straddling her. Her golden hair spills over the mattress, soft like spun silk. 

'You still want that kiss?' Catra whispers in Adora's now burning red ear. 'My knife touched the bottom.' 

Adora's face now resembled a fire truck, mouth gaping in shock.

'C-Catra, I…' 

Catra presses their lips together, silencing her. She knows she probably tastes like alcohol and weed right now, but she couldn't care less in the moment. Adora's mouth is still slack jawed from mortification, so she takes the opportunity for tongue. She frowns and moves down to her neck when Adora doesn’t return the kiss. 

'Catra, what are you doing-' 

Catra bites down on Adora's nape. The blonde underneath her lets out a soft gasp, arching her back. Her gold manicured nails dig into her shoulder. 

'Stop, you're not thinking straight-!' 

'Sure ain't.' Catra grins, licking a stripe down the base of her neck. Adora’s necklace chain jingles with the movement. There was now an impressive hickey there, blooming violet on her pale skin. She pauses to admire her handiwork. 

'This isn't you talking, you'll, you'll regret this in the morning.' Adora stutters. She's shivering, their hands now laced together, silver rings clanking. 

 'I know. I don't care.' She replies, kissing her again. Adora's teeth nick her lip. The alcohol in her system makes her feel lightheaded, confident. No way would she have managed this sober. Adora tastes better than she does, sweet like blueberry soju. Catra's hands wander down further, pulling the strings to untie the back of her dress-

'Catra stop!' Adora suddenly shouts, striking Catra across the cheek in a deafening slap. 

Adora's eyes were blazing, almost teary in the dark. Her breathing was irregular, panting in and out. Catra stills, clutching her cheek. The look in her eyes sobered her immediately. 

Adora looks down at her palm, realizing what she just did. 'Sorry for hitting you!' She flounders. 'It's just that, you're only doing this because you’re drunk and upset, right?’

Catra just stares at her before climbing off. Cold realization settles as the fog in her brain clears. 'You're right. Forget it.' 

She sits on the edge of the bed, numbly watching Adora hurriedly trying to re-tie the back of her now wrinkled dress. Her lips are stained with Catra’s red lipstick. 

Adora catches her looking, and she quickly turns away to smooth down her hair with her fingers. 'You've had more than enough to drink tonight. I’ll get you some water to clear your head.’

She gets up to turn on the light switch, and Catra blinks in the harsh light from the chandeliers. 

‘Come on, let’s get you sobered up, okay?’ Adora leads her to the kitchen on the same floor, gingerly placing her friend on the slippery bar stool. 

The blonde goes to get the chilled jug of infused water from the fridge and pours it into a glass. Adora slides it across the island, and Catra reluctantly takes it. She sips at it, mint and lemon on her tongue. It tasted way better than her hose water. 

‘I’ll uh, pick out some groceries for you since we’re here and all.’ Adora says awkwardly into the silence, turning around to rummage through her pantry. 

Suddenly Catra is brought back to the whole reason why she was sitting here in this oversized mansion in the first place. Their friendship agreement. The one she had just violated. Catra had never felt more stupid to mistake Adora’s kindness and guilt for actual feelings. She felt like a charity case, waiting to collect food from the soup kitchen.

Of course Adora didn't like her back. She just saw her as someone needing to be saved. The product of survival guilt. Catra wanted to whack her head on the corner of her marbled countertop and not wake up. 

Adora takes out a green plastic bag, and starts filling it with everything and anything she can get. Cans, pasta, biscuits, fruits and vegetables. Actually this feeling was more like being one of those poor kids that white girls would pose next to for their Instagram after their trip to Africa. 

Did Adora have fun, volunteering to slum it up in her place while she returned here? All she ever wanted her entire life was to be Adora’s equal. 

Scorpia and Sea Hawk's loud laughter and DJ music can be heard downstairs in the garden, beyond the tall golden trimmed windows. The class difference between them stretched like an unfathomable canyon. Living the classy bougie dream until the clock struck midnight and she was back in her run down garage. Except soon she won’t even have that anymore. Why did Adora have to bring her here? It was almost cruel. 

Catra's suddenly overcome with the urge to vomit. She nearly falls off the high chair in her rush to throw up the unholy cocktail of alcohol into the sink. Tears bead in her eyes from the sour taste as she continues to vomit out everything she ate that night. She can feel Adora by her side, patting her back reassuringly.

It was by far the worst birthday she has ever had. 

--

The morning of, Catra woke up in Adora’s bed with a splitting headache. 

Unfortunately she was not given the gift of amnesia, as she vividly remembered every last excruciating detail about last night. 

She spots Adora’s mop of blonde hair under a blanket on the floor, even though there were a billion other free spare rooms to sleep in. Adora was probably too afraid to share the same bed as her now.

Catra’s borrowed crop top digs uncomfortably into her skin, and she angrily flings it off her body. The shorts stick to her like a second skin, smelling of tequila. She grabs her old Burger King uniform and puts it on, though even this didn’t belong to her now. 

Adora shifts in her sleep, and Catra lightly steps over her to get to the door. The last thing she wanted was for Adora to wake up. 

As soon as she’s out, she runs out to the elevator and bangs frantically on the buttons until it sends her to the bottom floor. The lift opens with a ding and in her haste she almost crashes headfirst into Glimmer. 

‘Oh hey! Are you going to work?’ Glimmer greets. She was in her silk pajamas and slippers, holding a glass of orange juice. 

‘Uh. Yeah.’ Catra lies, trying her best to look natural. 

‘Some party last night huh? Lucky today is a Saturday.’ Glimmer says conversationally, unaware of Catra’s urge to throw her across the room. ‘Hey, what happened to your cheek?’

Catra clutches her face, it still strung from where Adora struck her. ‘Nothing.’

Glimmer raises an eyebrow. ‘Well anyway, did you wanna stick around for  breakfast? The cooks made pancakes, bacon, eggs, the whole deal.' She peeks behind Catra. 'Is Adora still not up yet?’ 

As much as Catra wanted to scream get out of my way she schools her expression to her best customer service smile. ‘Nope she’s still sleeping it off. Anyway I’m gonna be late so I can’t stick around.’

‘Did you need a lift?’ Glimmer asks. It dawns on the brunette she couldn’t exactly run the entire way back home. ‘I’ll ask one of the drivers to take you back so you make it to your shift.’

Catra thanks her lucky stars that Glimmer was still too hungover to drive her. She wouldn’t have been able to dodge her questions if she had. 

‘Yes please.’ Catra says, giddy with relief. ‘Thank you.’ 

‘Ooh and before I forget, Adora told me last night to give you this.’ Glimmer says, grabbing the green bag of groceries off the counter. The shorter girl bundles it into Catra’s arms before she can object. 

‘Get home safe.’ She says, waving as the attendant leads her out the door. 

Catra looks down at the cans of food in her arms and doesn’t say anything.  

------

The days leading up to graduation were painful, to say the least. 

They more or less pretend the kiss didn't happen. Adora never brings it up, and neither does Catra. 

She would stare at the ceiling, wishing she had never gotten piss drunk at her birthday and kissed her. Adora was right, she did regret it. It was awful, the look on Adora's face when she slapped Catra replays in her mind and nightmares over and over again. It was mortifying. 

Adora still messages her every 3 days, and Catra still replies, though her words are empty and devoid of banter. I'm worried about you, she says. I'm fine, Catra always responds. 

The brunette continues to humour her to keep the peace, only shutting down when her old job was mentioned. Catra doesn’t allow Adora back into her home again. 

Sometimes they study together, but she can't concentrate when Adora wears her glasses. Her heart hurts, so she cradles her cheek and tries not to remember. 

The hickey she had branded Adora's neck with had been covered with foundation until it faded away. None of her friends had teased her about it, so she clearly had not told a single soul what had happened. 

Catra bites at the scab on her lip from where Adora’s teeth nicked her until it bleeds. She wants to apologize, but the words stick on her tongue and she can't bring herself to talk about that night. 

Catra knew Adora was only here by her side to alleviate her guilt. Shame buries itself under her skin every time she's near her, like she was too embarrassed to even exist in the same space as Adora. She wants to disappear. 

Exams are hard, and without an internet connection after the library closes at 6pm made it difficult to study. She tries to use the Mcdonald's wifi but soon just ordering a water cup wasn't enough for the workers to let her stay. It was a fruitless effort anyway, in her heart she knew she wasn't going to come out on top. Her ranking had slipped, she wasn't even at second place anymore. Rent was due at the end of the month, and without her Burger King wage she knew she'll be kicked out sooner than later. 

Catra felt stressed and self destructive, and the only thing that kept her from falling off the edge completely was Scorpia. As much as she hated depending on others, she'd much rather her old coworker than Adora. 

Her classmates seemed to like this new, muted down version of Catra who didn't argue and just stayed quiet most of the time. Fighting back was too difficult when all she wanted to do was blend into the wallpaper. All they talked about was where they were going for vacation after graduation, and Catra certainly had nothing to contribute to that conversation.

She felt like crying, all the time. It was agony, wanting to burst out into tears randomly while she sat wasting away in the student council room. Despite herself, she missed Burger King, and she just kept getting ghosted or rejected in her other job applications. Sometimes when she really wanted to indulge herself, she'd go cry silently in the school toilet stall. 

Glimmer notices the change, and she catches her glaring. 'You don't seem as alive lately. Your eye bags are huge.' 

'S'fine.' Catra replies, hiding her hands so she doesn't see how they shake. Honestly Catra couldn't remember the last time she slept.

'Pfft, don't lie to me. Adora's worried about you. You're getting skinnier, and your eyes are always raw. All you do is stare into space.' 

Catra bites down on her nails. Of course she knew that. But she's gone through this before, and she'll do it again. 

'What happened between you two?’ 

‘None of your business.’ Catra replies, shuffling her way to the hall. 

--

Their graduation ceremony starts off uneventfully. Every student’s parents except Catra’s sit proudly in the audience, eager to watch their kid graduate. One by one they receive their certificate and return to their seats. 

Adora and Catra stand side by side onstage, as Adora makes their final speech as School Captain. Through the blinding lights, she sees Angella waving proudly at her adoptive daughter in the crowd. 

Catra looks at Adora in the corner of her eye. She must look pathetic, lovesick and pining after someone she couldn’t have. 

‘It’s been such an honour serving the entire faculty and students of this school. I couldn’t have done it without my amazing Vice-Captain and all of my prefects.

Now I’m proud to hand over my badge to the next School Captain, Frosta.’ 

They go through the rest of the ceremony like that, each member of the student council handing their badges to their successors. 

Soon their Principal comes up to the podium, tapping it once and clearing her throat. 

‘Announcing our honor student, and the winner of the scholarship to Eternia University…’ Castaspella says, turning over the sign card. 

‘None other than our school captain, Adora!’

Everyone starts clapping, and Adora walks across the stage to shake Castaspella's hand. 

Sounded about right. Catra never won against Adora in her entire life. She had already expected this outcome. Like a game of cat and mouse, going over and over for all eternity. 

Adora would excel with her elite education and secure a well paying job. Catra would struggle at the bottom indefinitely, never amounting to anything. She never would, if Adora was still there next to her. When the blonde re-entered her life, everything she had been working towards for years just collapsed. Her job, her home, her School Captain status, her chance at the scholarship, her sanity. 

She had to be wiped clean. A fresh start. 

The flower petals were falling, the streets decorated with a vibrant pink. The other students mill out of the crowd with their parents, chatting excitedly about what was next in their futures. She waits for Adora underneath a tree.  

'Congratulations.' Catra says, when she finally spots the other girl in the crowd. Adora pulls away from Angella’s embrace to meet her. 

'You deserve this so much more than I do.' Adora says, her voice pained like she didn't just win a full ride to her dream university. 'You should take it.'

'It's in your name, silly.' Catra replies, lightly tapping her with her rolled up certificate.

'Besides, I knew you'd get into Eternia, so I never applied.'

Adora blinks dumbly. '...What? Aren’t we going to the same university?’ 

She always was a bit slow on the uptake. ‘Only you decided that, stuupid. Say, it's about time we ended this right?' 

‘Catra, what are you...' 

'Our deal. You don't need to feel guilty anymore or bring me anything.' Catra says, her voice sounding like it didn't belong to her. She rummages in her bag, bringing out Adora's spare varsity jacket that she hadn’t returned. 'Here, take this. Thank you for all the help.' 

'What do you mean? You want to stop being friends?' Adora says in disbelief, taking the jacket.  

Catra nods. ‘I can’t continue with the arrangement. I hope you understand.’ 

‘I don’t! Was I the only one who thought we were friends, real ones?’ Adora asks.

‘...That’s right. I never saw you as a friend. You were just a meal ticket to me. Are you happy now?’ Catra snaps back. Shit, that wasn’t what she meant to say. She had planned to end this quickly and painlessly, on a high note. Trust Adora to put up a fight. 

Something seems to click in Adora’s brain. ‘Is this about the night of the party?’

‘Figure that out yourself.’ Catra replies, turning to walk away. 

Adora grabs onto her arm. ‘Wait! If- if that’s what you want, I’ll give it! Just don't go!' 

This dumb blonde really was offering up her body, out of what? A sense of duty? How stupid. 

‘Is that right?’ Catra says, walking closer to her. Adora backs up until she is pinned to the tree. They’re face to face now. 

‘Can you really do this?’ Catra lifts Adora’s chin by a finger. 

Finally it seems to dawn on Adora exactly what Catra wanted. She swallows, biting her lip. 

There’s a flicker of hesitation, before Adora’s eyes squeeze shut defiantly. The blonde is shaking like a leaf, her breath coming out in panicked stutters from her pursed lips. 

Catra just stares at Adora’s scrunched up face impassively. Her scared reaction was the only confirmation she needed for closure. 

She flicks the other girl’s forehead, and her big blue eyes open in confusion.

‘Chill out, I’m not that evil to do it to someone so unwilling.’

Adora blinks, clutching her forehead. ‘Catra?’

Suddenly Angella’s voice cuts through their conversation from the car park. ‘Adora dear, are you done chatting with your friend? We have reservations!'

‘Um, I…’ Her old school captain opens her mouth to say something, but Angella's started to lose her patience. 'Adora, how long are you going to stand there? Glimmer is already waiting for us at the restaurant!' 

Catra just smiles tiredly. ‘Take care, dummy.’ 

She watches Adora being dragged off unwillingly by her adoptive mother to the car. 

Catra lets out a sigh. Her phone pings with a message from Scorpia, and she knows it's time to go. 

---

By the time Angella releases her from their graduation celebration, Adora can feel that it's already too late.

Adora: 

Please, can we talk? Let me fix this

A pop up appears over the screen. 

Message Not Sent

This person isn't receiving messages at this time. 

Adora sends another message, but they all go undelivered. Catra had blocked her again. Panic spikes through her veins, and she quickly dons on a jacket and grabs her car keys. 

She sneaks out that night, down the familiar winding path through the bush that led to Catra's place. 

'Catra?' She rolls up the garage door, blinking in the darkness. When her eyes adjusted, she found Catra's old home completely emptied. 

All the furniture and items her friend had collected over the years, they were all gone. The little stove where they cooked, the old mattress where they talked late into the night, all vanished like they were never there. 

A single green plastic bag remained on the floor untouched, filled to the brim of food. 

[dyde21]

Overnight Trip to Stark Industries 3

Link to the first part HERE (I mean it’s a field trip fic so the set up is the same, but the first two parts are only on AO3 right now xD)

I know I’m new to the fandom, and mostly post over on AO3 but I think I’ll start sharing some more One-shots over here because I freaking adore Spideychelle. Also, anyone who does REALLY needs to check out @premiere-pro They have one of the best writing styles I’ve seen in ages, and they have a series called “super cuts” that retells Iron Man 2, Avengers, and Iron Man 3 currently with Spidey in them and it’s amazing. I’m gonna reread them soon.

Anyway:

XxXxXxXxX

The air was practically vibrating in the elevator as everyone wondered what the first stop of the tour would be. Someone had even turned to their tour guide Ashe in the elevator their half was in. “What is the itinerary for today?”

Ashe looked at them, owlish for a moment. “Did… did your teachers not explain it? I believe it was on the paperwork as well.” Peter heard her voice drop to a whisper. “Did I not explain it?”

The student looked a little sheepish. “There was a lot of paperwork…”

Nodding, Ashe recovered smoothly. “I totally get that. Working here often comes with loads of paperwork. So many NDA’s, it’s easy to lose track of things. I’ll explain once we get to the first stop, just so I don’t have to repeat myself.” She offered with a crowd winning smile.

Peter saw her turn back to him and mouth “oops” and Peter snickered. Ashe was a very good PA, she could handle people better than pretty much anyone else Peter knew, aside from maybe Tony himself. But he also had heard she could be a bit distracted easily, which was why she always had a tablet to double check to keep her tasks organized and on track. Though it wasn’t like Peter could blame her, he forgot stuff constantly and Tony was even worse. It was honestly a miracle that Pepper had come into Stark Industries to help keep everything running smoothly.

Ned turned to Peter. “Do you know what’s happening first?”

Shaking his head, Peter sighed. “Like I said, Ned. I really know nothing about what’s going on this tour. I wasn’t exactly thrilled to go on it, and I kinda spend a lot of time here so I never took it myself. I just know that it’s supposed to be super memorable.”

Ned was still nodding, as if the plain explanation Peter was offering was super secret spoilers. MJ was just leaning against the wall, arms crossed as she watched them all with an amused expression. He was glad at least someone was amused. 

The elevator ended and they stepped out into… a plain hallway. 

Everyone seemed a bit confused. It was clear the expectations had been a bit more… grandeur. Ashe smiled as she made a broad motion, urging the group to gather around. 

“So I bet you all are wondering what we are doing on this trip. In case some of you did not properly read the itinerary, I thought it would be prudent to review our schedule!”

There was some excited murmur from the group of students. Peter just rolled his eyes. He met her eyes and mouthed “smooth” to her. Ashe turned to the group, but Peter saw her subtly raise a peace sign in his direction. 

“So! As you know, our trip is split into two days. The first day will explore the technology and R&D portion of Stark Industries, and the second day will cover the Avengers and affiliated programs.” Ashe quieted for a moment as a wave of cheers and very loud murmuring broke out. Ned was freaking out, grabbing Peter’s arm and shaking it. Peter barely noticed, because he felt his face pale. He was about to raise his arm, but someone else had gotten the idea first. 

“Yes, you!” Ashe said, pointing. 

“Will we be meeting any Avengers?” Cindy asked eagerly.

Pausing for dramatic effect, a massive grin crept on Ashe’s face. “Yes! You will be meeting multiple Avengers on this trip. While not all trips are afforded this opportunity, this trip has been lucky enough to be part of the September Foundations outreach program to help connect the future generation to both Stark Industries and the Avenger’s initiative, as at the core, the heroes serve the people and outreaches like this help close the gap and build bridges.” Ashe offered in a smooth, practiced flow. 

Another loud wave of cheers rang out from the group and Peter winced, covering his ears slightly. His enhanced senses were NOT as happy as they were at the moment. He felt MJ’s hand rub his back gently. 

“Dude! DUDE!” Ned practically shouted at him, wide eyes. Peter couldn’t help but grin at his friend despite the growing dread in his stomach. He was happy for Ned, even though Ned had met all the Avengers at least once by now. This was a rare chance for all of his friends and he was happy for them. 

But there was no way in hell this tour had been “randomly selected” for this. There was absolutely foul play here and it reeked of nepotism. 

“Lucky, my ass. I think this was Pepper’s idea of ‘helping me out’.” Peter muttered to Ned and MJ.

“GOOD.” Ned said unapologetically.

MJ shrugged. “Technically, they aren’t under any obligation to not choose this trip just because they know you. They have the right to choose whatever groups they want.”

Peter raised an eyebrow. “I thought you were against Nepotism.”

MJ offered him a sly grin. “Technically the entire class benefits from this experience, so you aren’t stealing all the benefit from others. You’re more of… an asset in our appeal to the process. It’s prudent to make use of the advantages we are offered.”

“So I’m an asset.” Peter deadpanned to her. “That’s how you see me.”

MJ shrugged. “You’re my favorite asset.”

“You just like me for my assets.” Peter mocked.

“It is a nice asset.” MJ replied cooley. Peter stared at her for a moment, blinking before his cheeks started to tint red. Did… did she just hit on him?

MJ grinned triumphantly, having won the exchange as the group tuned back into Ashe.

“Our first stop will be a brief history of the company, followed by a tech demonstration. There will be a surprise challenge, followed by lunch and the end of the challenge, then a chance for outreach and interaction with SI representatives to end the day before dinner and some free time. We will leave tomorrow’s plan for tomorrow, so make the most of today while you can!”

Another break where the group was too busy talking to each other for Ashe to have a hope of controlling them, but she didn’t seem particularly surprised or bothered by it, instead answering some question that Mr. Harrington was asking that Peter couldn’t hear over the roar of overly excited teenagers.

“So at least one day before the Avengers ruin my life.” Peter muttered mostly to himself. He winced as he felt MJ gently pinch his back where she had been rubbing it. 

“Stop being so dramatic, nerd. Things will workout fine.” She reassured, glancing towards her other nerd with a small smile as Ned was still freaking out with Abe.

Ashe checked the time on her starkpad before waving her arms a bit to gather attention back on her. “As much as I’m sure you’re having fun talking about how ‘hella cool’ this tour is gonna be, how about we actually start it?”

MJ raised at the expression and Ashe seemed to notice it and smirked in response.

Ashe led her gaggle of students towards a wide set of double doors that really didn’t look like anything special. Peter couldn’t quite place where he had seen them before though. They seemed… different. 

“First stop on our tour will be a brief history of Stark Industries. This is actually a rather brand new installation and vastly upgraded from our older lecture version. I think you all will be pretty pleased by it. Without further ado, let’s begin!” She said, earning a few hoots and cheers from the class as she dramatically pushed open the doors.

Students practically rushed into… a blank room. All the walls were either glass or another blank surface. In the center of the massive room was a circular pedestal with a device on top of it. Everyone looked around confused, and Peter could practically hear their disappointment. 

Ashe, however, was having far too much fun watching their expressions. “Just be patient. Is everyone in? Good! Okay, now everyone I suggest you stand back to start, and do keep in mind the center dias please.” She said before stepping back. After a moment the rest of the class stepped back too as murmurs of concern started to grow a little louder.

Peter, however, remembered <em>exactly</em> what this was and a massive grin crept on his face. He had no idea they had actually fully finished this project, it had been ages since he had helped out other interns with this. He had been involved in the development and the construction of the technology, not as much the final touches and execution of it. 

He gestured for MJ and Ned to step back a little more. “Ned, do your best not to freak out too much.”

Ned nodded a bit too eagerly as he stared at the console, already amazed even though nothing had happened yet. 

MJ seemed a bit skeptical, but scooted a little closer to him and crossed her arms, waiting to see what was in store. 

Ashe knocked her fist on one of the glass panes twice. “Alright, Ty. Start it up!” She said eagerly.

The lights of the room instantly shut off and the murmurs died instantly. Peter could hear the sharp intake of breath as everyone was suddenly waiting very eagerly. 

A voice rang out through the room. 

“Everything is achievable through technology...”

Peter recognized the voice, he had heard it a few times. 

Howard Stark.

Gasps rang out through the room because standing in the center of the room was Howard Stark. Or more accurate, a hologram of him. It stood there, looking around generically, but you couldn't help but feel like he was actually looking at you when his eyes happened to meet yours. 

“Is that a hologram?”

“Isn’t that the founder?”

A bunch more hushed whispers echoed out, followed by an almost equal number of “shhhhh”.

Ned was gaping like a fish as he stared at the man in the old suit who walked forward, continuing to talk. 

“Better living, robust health, and for the first time in human history, the possibility of world peace.”

He stopped and gently shoved his hands into his suit pockets. “I’m Howard Stark, and everything you’ll need in the future can be found right here.” He said with a sweeping motion of his arm. 

As he did though the room <em>changed</em>.

One second they were standing in a dark room with a holographic dead founder talking to them, and the next there was a rush of light of colors from all around and suddenly they were standing in a fairground. Students gasped, talking in hush whispers as they looked around. Peter saw Betty even hesitantly reach out and touch the wall, which was still very much there, but it looked like she was touching an invisible wall in the park. Almost. There was just enough of a discrepancy that you could see the edge without stumbling face first into it accidentally. Peter guessed that had been a lesson learned the hard way, knowing the interns.

There were displays in every direction. There was a general ambiance of futurism, but it was anachronistic with the old visions of the future, incredibly outdated despite their best guesses of the time, being displayed by technology they couldn’t dream of. Displays of imaginary space suits, flying cars, toasters. Everything was in the distance as the world around them began to move across the ground, as if they were on a guided tour.

Everyone was still mostly rooted in place, and as if to lead them, Ashe walked across the room, mumbling a bit about watching out for the center kiosk, but went deliberately to look at a display from the far end of the wall. Peter followed her suit, just to encourage people as he walked across it too. It was a bit disorienting, with the world moving at it’s own pace while you walk. Kind of like those automated walkways at the airport, but not too jarring thankfully. Again, he figured it was probably a product of trial and error and an uncomfortable number of nauseous interns testing it.

Crowds bustled around them, phasing through people as the holograms were interrupted by the actual people in the room, even though Peter saw a student or two from their class hurriedly avoiding them muttering out apologies. Peter couldn’t blame them, it almost looked real.

He knew how disorienting it could be to be surrounded by illusions. Just like… him… whenever.. He fought…

Peter’s attention was snapped back to the present as Howard continued finally.

“From all of us at Stark Industries, I would like to personally thank you for visiting us. For your interest in helping shape the world into a better future.” For a few more moments they continued to float through the imagined space. Old music playing over a staticy sound system, girls in rather revealing outfits dancing and parading themselves around displays, all before it settled near the center of the area where Howard was once again standing there, smiling at them. 

The world faded to black around them once more, and there were some groans of disappointment from the group as their apparent trip through time was cut short. Howard gave one last tip of his hat, before he faded. 

There was a beat of silence.

Two.

Three. 

“I’ve learned a great deal from my father, and clearly humility wasn’t one of them.” Tony Stark’s voice cut in as he suddenly walked forward, emerging from nothing and standing where Howard stood a moment ago. 

Peter was almost tempted to reach out and touch him because it was strange seeing him so clearly there, but not at the same time. Peter knew it was a hologram, but he could have sworn it was real.

He raised his arms and a massive Arc Reactor, the old prototype emerged from the ground, large, and humming with energy. It dwarfed their size, and it felt surreal standing so close to it.

“The Arc Reactor was one of my first successes in his company, outside of our military contracts.” Tony said. He smiled at the group and it looked genuine.

It looked real.

Too real. Like he had seen before. Illusions. But they never stayed pleasant like this. Peter stepped back, bumping his back against the wall. This was dangerous. He couldn’t tell if it was his spider sense or anxiety that was now gripping the lower part of his neck. His heart began to beat much faster.

Too fast. Was he dying? Maybe. Was this real? He kept waiting for it to change like it always did. Tony would pull a gun on him. Or melt into spiders. Or get shot. Maybe the other avengers would show up to die painfully. Or attack him. Or each other. Peter’s fists were clenched tightly at his side and they started to shake. 

Why wouldn’t he hurry the fuck up and kill Tony already. Peter didn’t have time for this. He didn’t want to see his mentor die again. He didn’t want to have to punch it just to make it go away. He just wanted to scream. He could see Tony’s lips moving, probably continuing the talk but Peter’s ears were ringing and he couldn’t hear anything. Why hadn’t the death come, was Myst-

MJ’s eyes filled his vision as she stepped directly in front of him. His eyes snapped to hers, and he felt her hand cup his cheek. It was warm. He swallowed thickly. 

“R-real?” He asked shakily.

MJ’s eyes were focused, and God were they beautiful. 

“Real.” She confirmed. “I’m right here, Tiger.” She whispered gently. She leaned in briefly, kissing him. 

It was the strangest sensation, it was like he dropped from the sky back into his body. Everything snapped into place at the feeling of her lips briskly on his. 

He could feel the pressure of her knee on the inside of his, one of her feet pressed against the inside heel of one of his as she had leaned into him. Her other hand gently holding his clenched fist as he forced it to relax and thread his fingers through hers. The sounds of Tony’s voice again.

“Under our new CEO, Pepper Potts, Stark Industries have moved on from our wartorn past and once again begun the long process of bringing tomorrow just a little bit closer.” Then the familiar sounds of “Shoot to Thrill” by ACDC started to echo throughout the room.

Peter’s eyes glanced around and saw most of the students now looking around as a new wide arrange of displays showed around them. Cindy had noticed him and had seemed a bit concerned, but saw MJ was handling him and went back to looking at the sights after a small smile. Ned also seemed worried, but Peter offered him a reassuring smile and a moment later Ned was next to Betty as they pointed at some Iron Man suits flying high above them.

Ashe had closed half the distance towards them, concern painting her features but he gave her a shaky thumbs up and she slowly nodded, stepping off to the side but clearly keeping an eye on him. 

His eyes fell back on MJ’s, finding them still locked on his patiently, a warm, if not slightly concerned smile on her face. 

“You’re okay. I’m right here.” She said softly, reaching up to move his hand under her neck to her pulse point, as he felt the steady throb of it. Life. Peter took a deep breath and slowly the panicked sensation in the back of his neck faded. 

“T-thank you.” He said.

MJ still examined his face, no doubt reading past anything he could ever try to hide from her in the moment before she seemed satisfied and smiled. Giving him the briefest peck on the lips before stepping next to him again. 

She dropped his hand, but reached over and slid hers under the back of his shirt,resting it directly on the base of his spine, her thumb making gentle strokes over it. A steady, warm, grounding presence. She was right here, and very <em>very</em> real.

Peter wrapped his now free arm around her waist and held her close as he took in the sights around them.

Now that all traces of his illusionist villain had been banished to the dark recesses of his mind, he had to admit it was pretty fucking awesome.

ACDC was blaring through the speakers, and everywhere you looked seemed like a technological dream. 

High up in the sky various suits of Iron Man armor were flying everywhere, both in formations and freely, firing at targets as they were thrown up and blasting them into pieces that fell into glitter before vanishing. 

Off to the side near Ned and Betty Peter saw a person waving at them, their entire arm made of a prosthesis that seemed to respond almost perfectly to their mind as it picked up and played with a coin dexterously. 

On the other side there was a clean energy generator that powered a trail of lights before they erupted into a massive city streat, all being powered by the small glowing blue generator. Peter wasn’t sure if it was a bit of an exaggeration, but it accomplished its intended effect based on Abe's and Cindy’s reaction.

Tony was still standing in the center, looking impossibly smug as he looked around a bit randomly to catch eyes potentially.

Glancing over at MJ, he saw her attention had finally moved from him and he saw her mouth opened ever so slightly in awe as she looked at the scene closest to them. The sleek fairground around them that had been housing most of the other displays crumbled to dirt as they were suddenly staring out over a large patch of ground, surrounded by forests that seemed to stretch off for miles. 

In the center of the clearing were a few robots that were transplanting sapling trees and some further down that were planting seeds. 

There was some floating text giving statistics on successfully replanted trees and reforesting that had happened over the past ten years.

Peter looked back at MJ, her face being illuminated by the green as he saw the faintest traces of wonder in her eyes. An emotion he knew she felt as much as everyone else did, but hid from the world to keep herself safe. But seeing that look in her eyes, the smallest smile on her face, the way her eyes shifted to his and her smile grew even more, made his chest feel warm. He realized, there was nothing in this world he wouldn’t do for her. Nothing he wouldn’t do to see that smile every day for as long as he lived. He would move mountains for her if she asked.

He rested his forehead against hers for a moment, a serene oasis in the loud ACDC played. Eventually the music started to quiet down and everyone looked back to where Tony was still standing. Behind him an Iron Man suit landed in the hero pose, before it stood up and opened up, encasing Tony in it. 

“Stark Industries is leading the world to the future. Try to keep up.” He said with one last smirk, before the helmet closed and he blasted off into the sky. 

A second later and the regular lights slowly turned on as they were gradually reintroduced to the plain chamber as all the holograms powered down.

Everyone just sort of stood still, letting out a few deep breaths. 

“Dude…” Abe said.

“That was…” Betty started.

“SO FUCKING AWESOME.” Jason said excitedly.

“Lonello!” Harrington snapped at the language, but seemed just as starstruck. 

There was a loud eruption of conversations as people started gushing about the experience. 

Ashe clearly leaned back, an almost maternal smile as she saw the excitement through the class and gave them a moment to process things. 

Peter glanced over to MJ, and Ned and Betty who had joined them. 

“Dude, that was insane!” Ned started out, practically shaking with how excited he was. 

“I can’t even imagine how they did that.” Betty offered. 

MJ smiled. “Yeah… that was pretty cool.” Everyone seemed a bit shocked by her honest confession, but no one was going to call her out on it. They knew she was working on being more open with others and the last thing they wanted to do was discourage her from it.

“Yeah, I’ve never seen this before. I knew they were working on it, even helped a bit, but it was nowhere near that… immersive.” He offered, hearing his own slight amazement and thankfully not  much of the fear that crept in. 

He felt a slight increase of the pressure on his back. MJ’s face portrayed nothing, but it was a clear reminder. 

<em>Im right here.</em>

He just squeezed her a little closer from his arm around her side.

“You worked on that?” Betty said, a little too loud of surprise.

The class looked over at Peter both surprised and a little skeptical. 

He raised his free hand in a sort of peace gesture. “Not like… the actual holograms. They must have… God, I don’t even know the level of artists and programmers that took. I just meant more of the basic technology.”

MJ snorted. “Basic. Sure.”

Peter rolled his eyes, tickling her side ever so slightly making her squirm before she kicked his shin in retaliation. “You know what I mean. I worked with the other interns on the back end.” He offered. He didn’t want to go into detail about working directly with Tony on it, or how it worked because he <em>really</em> didn’t wanna spoil the magic of something so fantastical. 

“Sure you did, Parker.” Flash said in disbelief. Before he could chime in with any more eloquent comments, Ashe clapped her hands together once. 

“Well then! You seem to have remembered which way is up, so how about we move on to the rest of the tour? I promise you there’s still plenty to be amazed by.” She said as she ushered them to the opposite of where they entered where there were more flush doors in the wall. 

She seemed to do a head count, before checking her tablet to verify that she did indeed not forget the number of people she was responsible, before she smiled and moved open the doors. 

Once again, the students burst into an excited murmur. 

There was a rather tall young man, sleeves rolled up on a simple blue dress shirt and jeans as he leaned against a little kiosk. He had shaggy black hair, and a calm smile as he watched the students.

But none of them were watching him because behind him it looked like an arcade from the future. It was a series of rooms, all displaying various holograms above the tables. Other machines littered the walls and the room was darker to allow the lights emitting from the machines to draw your eyes in even more. People stumbled forward a bit more, but none of them were willing to go past the man without permission. 

Peter glanced over at Ashe as she was staring at the guy in surprise. 

“Ashelyn.” He said simply, an almost smug look on his face as he raised an eyebrow.

“Tyler.” She replied professionally, but Peter could see the barely constrained snickers that both of them were trying to keep hidden.

MJ glanced between the two young adults before looking at Peter.

Peter just rolled his eyes. “You’ll see.”

The two young adults had locked eyes long enough and seemed to be having a silent discussion long enough for the incredibly impatient teenagers who were desperate to see the technological wonderland just out of their reach to feel a little awkward.

Peter cleared his throat a bit loudly and both Ashe and Tyler seemed to snap back to reality, the faintest hint of a blush on both of their cheeks. 

“Welcome…”

“Midtown.” Ashe supplied helpfully.

Tyler shot her a grateful look. “Welcome, Midtown. I hope you enjoyed our little introduction. A bit of a step up from our old lecture, I would say?” He asked, waiting for a chorus of replies.

“Yes!”

“Incredible!”

“Fucking amazing!”

“Lonello...” Harrington’s voice sounded more tired this time.

Tyler just smiled at them. “I’m glad you enjoyed it. It has been the product of months of hard labor, and many technological breakthroughs from all across Stark Industries to achieve. My name is Tyler, and I am one of the floor managers of the R&D department, with a specialty in audio development, though my floor covers a bit broader range as well. I have volunteered to serve as your specialist to answer any tech related questions you may have, if any happen to be beyond Ashe’s understanding.”

Ashe snorted out a laugh at that. “I appreciate the confidence Fros- Tyler but you know I leave the technology to you labrats down here. I appreciate the new headphones you guys released last month, but the most I know about them is I’m pretty sure they have a speaker in them somewhere.”

There were a few laughs from the group at that and the lovestruck look Tyler gave her made Peter wonder if he was that obvious when he looked at MJ.

(He was.)

Cindy raised her hand. 

“Yes?” Tyler asked, pointing at her patiently. 

“Are the tours usually led by floor managers? You seem a bit… important. Not that we aren’t incredibly grateful!” She added quickly, embarrassment creeping in after her brain caught up to her curiosity.

Tyler shrugged, not bothered by the question. “Usually no, we have mid level interns give these tours to gain experience in presenting their work though we are always available to help them when needed. This is more of an… exception.” He offered, his eyes flickering over to Ashe  who was hiding her laugher behind her fist as she tried to suppress her giggles. 

Peter laughed at that, apparently loud enough for Tyler’s eyes to lock onto his. He tilted his head slightly and Peter blushed. Oops. Busted.

“Pet-”

“Okay! How about we get started!” Ashe cut him off, giving him a look that apparently he understood to mean just follow her lead. 

“Right! So, there are three rooms behind us, and you’re free to interact with any of the displays there. Unfortunately we do have to ask you to not use your phones in these areas. While you will be free to discuss anything you see here, some of the technology is new and patent pending, and we would prefer visuals of it not be released ahead of our schedule. I must insist that this rule is rather strictly enforced, and FRIDAY will be keeping a close eye out.” He said, his voice calm and even. “Right Fri?”

“That is correct, Tyler. Upon the exit of the third room in the back, you will be able to use your devices again. Feel free to silence any devices or respond before you pass the ropes up ahead, but we ask you not to attempt to film the area from here either.”

A couple of students pulled out their phone and silenced them just to prevent any temptation. Peter actually did that himself, because while he was pretty sure he was actually an exception to the rule, since he knew way more sensitive technology than this, he wasn’t exactly looking to prove a point and he had a habit of forgetting. 

MJ, Ned, and Betty seemed to trust him and followed his lead. 

“Now that the lame rules are out of the way, let me explain a bit more. Feel free to explore any of the machines up ahead. All of the holographic displays are interactable, and feel free to engage with them to your heart's content. Common sense rules apply here too. Don’t steal anything. Don’t break anything. Don’t run around.” He offered, raising an eyebrow. “Midtown is a reputable school, so behave but beyond that have fun and find me or Ashe if you have any questions.”

With that, he stepped aside and the students rushed in, spreading out to all corners of the first room as they started looking around and fiddling with things. 

Ned and Betty went to the nearest display table and as Peter was about to lead MJ in, he felt a hand on his shoulder.

Turning, he saw Ashe looking at him with a concerned expression.

“Are you okay? I saw your reaction in the holodeck. I know it can be disorienting.”

Peter nodded, smiling as he felt MJ increase the pressure again. “Just… caught me off guard.”

Ashe nodded, fidgeting slightly. “I… wasn’t sure if I should have cut it off. I was about to head over and ask you…” 

Peter shook his head quickly. “No! I’m glad you didn’t. It was incredible. I was fine.” He offered, even though the last bit was clearly a lie.

“It’s okay, that’s what I’m here for.” MJ chimed in, making Ashe laugh. 

“Yeah, you did distract him pretty well. I must say.” A teasing lilt in Ashe’s tone. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen two people make out when surrounded by cutting edge hologram tech.”

Peter’s face flushed red and he buried his face into MJ’s shoulder. MJ just shrugged, hoping to hide her own embarrassment. 

“Really? Cause I distinctly remember something similar.” Tyler’s voice chimed in, making everyone look at him as he reached out and squeezed Ashe’s hand.

Ashe flushed red and slapped his chest. 

“Frosty! Shut up.” She muttered, glancing around. 

MJ glanced at Peter, then the two. 

Peter was just laughing at the sweet revenge. “They uh… know each other.” He offered, not sure how much to reveal about their personal life.

Ashe rolled her eyes, and held up her hand where there was an engagement ring on it.

“I see.” MJ said, smirking. “Explains why Peter’s boss is crashing our tour group.”

Tyler shrugged. ”Ashe normally works so far away.” He whined uncharacteristically for the calm man, earning an eye roll from Ashe. “Plus I’m not Peter’s boss. Kinda. Technically?”

Peter and Tyler both looked at each other, confused.

“I… don’t know.” Peter confessed as both boys seemed to ponder the problem. 

“A well run organization, I see. Very cutting edge.” MJ offered and Ashe snorted a laugh at that. 

Peter nudged her side. “I mean I work for Tony directly. But I also spend time helping out the other interns where I’m needed, or wherever Tony gets the impulse to send me that day. So some days he is? But like, Tony is his boss so I don’t know.”

Tyler just shrugged. “I listen to Tony, and you listen to me while you’re here, but I think that’s just because you’re nice. So as long as nothing gets messed up we can all just agree Pepper is the boss of all of us.”

Peter nodded. “Probably the safest bet.”

Ashe and MJ both shared a look. “Are all tech nerds this much of a mess?” MJ deadpanned.

Ashe just nodded. “Our sample size seems to suggest so. At least they’re cute.” She offered, kissing Tyler on the cheek. 

MJ snickered. “True.” And squeezed Peter’s hand. 

“You’re taking a field trip to your job?” Tyler asked Peter, an amused expression on his face.

Peter let out a sigh that made him feel years older. “Yeah. Cause my life is a joke. Don’t make it worse?” He asked hopefully.

Tyler nodded. “Trust me, I get it. I still tell people I just work in the labs in SI. Attention sucks.”

Ashe sighed but wrapped an arm around him. “Even if you deserve it.”

Tyler sighed with a small smile and stepped away. “I guess I should do my job and not keep flirting with you. That’s why they banned you from my Lab. They kept saying I get nothing done.” He said without a single regret in his tone. He turned and disappeared farther in. 

Ashe just let out a dreamy sigh after him before her attention snapped back to Peter and MJ who were both judging her and snickering. She ushered them in. “Go be nerds.” 

Peter let out a laugh and dragged MJ by the hand over to Ned and Betty as they fumbled with the controls to the holo display. Ned was waving his hands around it and made a display of the latest Stark Phone expand and shrink. 

“Okay, that’s pretty cool.” MJ confessed as she hesitantly reached a hand out. Both Ned and Betty stepped back to let her interact with it for a moment. 

Peter was surprised as MJ seemed to be a bit of a natural at interacting with it. Her intuition let her pick up the general motion controls as she was able to move it around naturally, and soon started to separate it into pieces. There weren’t specifics to protect trade secrets, but you could see the general parts. She paused to tie her hair up, because it kept getting in her face when she would move for a larger movement.

Eventually MJ noticed Peter staring at her with a strange smile and she paused, having disassembled and enlarged the camera part she was playing with. “What?” She asked, a hint of self consciousness leaking into her tone.

Peter just gave her a shy smile. “You’re in a lab, playing with tech like this. It’s uh… really hot.” He confessed in a quiet tone.

MJ felt her own face flush. “Oh my God, Peter. You’re such a nerd.” She mumbled out, but also filed that fact safely away for potential future use.

“Aww.” Ned said dramatically as he looked between them. 

“That’s cute, but we really don’t need to know about your feti-” Betty was cut off as MJ interrupted, loudly. 

“Okay! So what else is there?” She said, turning away from the table, the same time Peter, bright red spoke too. 

“It’s not like that!” Peter looked about 30 seconds from running out of the room. 

Ned and Betty shared a look, but let the subject drop. For now.

They wandered over to a nearby machine that wasn’t occupied by the classmates. “What is this?” MJ asked, walking up behind Peter and resting her chin on his shoulder. 

Peter leaned his head against hers for a moment. “Surprisingly one of the most tame things here. It’s just a 3D printer. Just a lot faster and has more materials it can work with.

“But what can it print here?” Ned asked, brow furrowed.

Peter’s smile grew wider. “Oh, anything. You’re gonna love this.” He said before leading them to a nearby table. Clicking to the right program, MJ raised an eyebrow. “Is that photoshop?”

Peter shrugged, already deep in work mode. “Kinda. It’s a 3D modelling software we developed. But it’s a bit more interactive.”

Peter reached out towards and area of the holographic display and a clump of a material digitally appeared in his hand. He began to squash and stretch it, occasionally adding more. 

“See, you can copy and paste if you make this motion…” he mumbled out to them as they stepped back and watched him work with a fascination. A few other of his classmates even wandered over, starting to watch Peter work. Peter however, was too deep in thought as he worked on bringing the thought he had to life and MJ and Ned knew better than to try and snap him out of his zone. 

“You can change the material here. The program is also smart, so if you’re trying to select a part of it it will generally help you get what you need.” He said as he enlarged the form and with two fingers held together started to select the top part of it, before cycling through a few different materials and dragging it onto it as the form changed into a clear plastic.

“Dude… is that?” Ned asked as Peter just grinned.

“You are <em>such</em> a nerd.” MJ repeated, overly fond as she watched Peter put on some minor details. 

Shrinking it down a bit, Peter swiped his hand as the whole form began rotating a few times, showing off the final result. 

“It’s just a quick mockup to show you what you can do here. I didn’t really dig into details but I could have taken off the glass and added the seats to it. I also could have made the form hollow if I wanted to include some kind of engine in this, but I really only have a few minutes. But I know the X-wing is your favorite Ned so I thought I’d just…”

Peter trailed off as he owlishly blinked at the group of students who were all staring at his floating model of the X-Wing from star wars that he had just sculpted out roughly. “Uh… hi guys.” He muttered out. “When did…”

“Dude, you’ve been in your own world for like 10 minutes.” Ned said, nudging him, but still staring at the X-Wing.

“Peter, how do you know how to do this so well?” Cindy asked, tilting her head as she watched the model rotate slowly still. 

Peter shrugged, a blush creeping up on his face. “I told you, I intern here. We uh… use this to help make mock-ups. It’s good for playing with visuals.”

“It’s true.” Tyler’s cool voice cut in, making the class turn to see him standing there, hands in pockets as he smiled. “Peter is correct. It’s often useful to have a visual model handy when either pitching an idea, or to help generate ideas because keeping things purely theoretical can get in the way of finding obvious solutions sometimes.”

The class nodded with murmurs of agreement. 

“Peter, the machine is fully stocked so feel free to print it off. Does anyone else want to try as well?” A bunch of hands shot up and Tyler nodded, glancing around. One of the displays of the Stark Tablet was pretty much empty so he walked over, typing in a password and switched the program to be another display of the modelling program to allow more people to mess around with it at once. 

“I’ll set it up over here as well. You will need to take turns with the printer, but feel free to print off a model if you want. Please be reasonable about the size though, due to time and costs.”

Peter quickly sent the print request to the machine as he stepped back, saving his project with a quick override for later use just in case, then brought up some blank models for people to try out. His cheeks were still flushed as he went over and collected the model, handing it to Ned as he watched Betty starting to sculpt a sort of old fashioned camera. 

“Dude! That’s incredible!” Ned marveled as he held up the mini ship, flying it through the air.

“That was pretty cool, Peter.” Cindy confirmed as Peter could only nod, flustering under the praise.

Tyler bounced between the people at the nearby tables, answering questions and helping them get comfortable with the program and soon most people had printed off little figurines. He saw MJ waiting on something, but she had told him to leave when he tried to see what she was working on, saying it was a surprise so he had settled for showing Ned and Betty some of the other nearby machines, various displays and robotics. It took all of his will power not to peak at whatever MJ had been working on.

Eventually though he saw Flash had taken her place and she was standing near the printer, waiting for the result. He wandered over while Ned and Betty were taking photos with a camera that hovered in place

“What did you make?” Peter asked, his tone a little more whinier than he had planned. He couldn’t help it though, the curiosity was killing him. 

She just rolled her eyes and patted his head patronizingly. “Soon.” 

Peter harrumphed and crossed his arms. 

“Hey, Penis!” Flash called out, and letting out a sigh, Peter turned slowly. 

“Really, Flash?” He asked, glancing over at Ashe who was frowning at Flash and whispering something to Tyler. Welp, that probably wasn’t good.

“Just wanted to show you what an actual good design looks like, unlike your stupid spaceship.” He said smugly as he enlarged his design and spun it around. It was… a suit of Iron Man armor. Kinda. Almost.

The proportions were way off, and it was almost aggressively lumpy despite the many smoothing tools available. Still, Peter figured it wasn’t the <em>worst</em> he’s seen.

“Real cool, Flash.” He offered, his tone dripping with sarcasm. 

Flash just sent him a smile as if he had been genuine. “You should pass it to Mr. Stark.” His voice said almost impressively condescending. “I made some cool changes I think he’d like.”

Peter glanced over it and grimaced slightly. He thought it would be cool to have a sort of back panel that looked kinda cool, but also dramatically limited the motion of the arms, which was not something Tony could do without. It also had enough solid panels wrapping around the body to prevent any easy access in and out of the suit. 

“Sure, I’ll do that.” Peter muttered as Flash highfived with his friends, as if he had put Peter in his place. 

His eyes flickered over to Ashe, who was not looking happy and even Tyler had a frown on his face now. 

“I gotta print this.” Flash said as he went to print it, only to see the queue. Frowning, he moved his to the top, cancelling the print in progress, which also deleted it. 

“Flash! What the fuck!” Cindy said, whirling around, fists clenched. 

“Oh shit.” Flash muttered, not realizing he had canceled it. 

“What happened?” Tyler asked as he approached, Harrington showing up as well.

“He canceled my print and now it’s gone!” Cindy said, a layer of hurt under her anger. 

Tyler’s brow furrowed. “Is this true?”

Flash looked a bit pale. “I was just trying to make sure mine got printed before we ran out of stuff.”

Cindy was trying to navigate the holotable. “I can’t find it… My spider.” She said, her voice dropping into a hint of heartbreak. 

“Flash, that is not okay.” Mr. Harrington started to scold Flash who only looked mildly bothered by it. 

MJ and Betty moved over to Cindy, consoling her as she pouted and glared at Flash.

Peter locked eyes with Tyler as they approached the table. “I think it got deleted as more people started working on their projects.” Tyler said as he searched all open files. 

Peter frowned, crossing his arms. He glanced over at Cindy as she looked at him with hopeful eyes, as if he could save her. MJ gave him a look expectantly. Like she had absolute faith in him to solve this problem. He felt a warmth in his chest and turned back. 

“Tyler, do these still have the same programs we use? Just in a display mode or something?”

Tyler nodded. “Yeah, these weren’t made specifically for this, we just locked out access to some of the features since the public would be using it. Why?” He asked, trying to figure out what Peter had realized.

Peter nodded. “Which means, they would have the same protocols, right?”

Tyler’s eyes widened, catching up. “It would.” He paused. “But this isn’t technically my department. I’m kinda crashing here to help out. I don’t know if I have access.”

Peter frowned, that was a good point. Depending on who set the restrictions, they could either out rank Tyler, or be at the same level. Still, there was someone above them all. 

“Hey, Fri?” Peter asked.

“Yes, Peter. How can I help?” The voice came from the table in front of them, making some of the nearby students jump. 

“This table still has all the normal protocols active, even if locked off, right?”

“That is correct.”

“Can you run one for us, please?”

“I’d need to override the access.”

“Ask Mr. Stark for permission, please.”

There was a moment of silence. 

“Do you seriously think you can just ask favors from Iron man, Peter? Just because you intern here?” Flash asked, as if he was embarrassed for Peter and looked apologetically to Tyler and Ashe. The audacity of him. 

“Please check your phone, Peter.” Fri chimed in after a moment. 

Peter looked to Tyler, and Tyler just shrugged. They both knew he actually had permission too, but he was trying to make it less of a show about wielding his privilege around here.

Pulling out his phone, he saw a text from Tony. 

<em>Fri requested an override. Pretty sure you can do that on your own. Everything OK?</em>

Peter responded quickly.

<em>Yeah. Just need to run a protocol to help a classmate. Trying not to be obvious about what I can do.

Lame, if you got it, flaunt it. 

So is that a yes?

Yeah, just try not to give away company secrets or something.</em>

Peter snorted out a laugh, earning an amused look from MJ. He passed her his phone while he turned back to the table. 

“What Protocol would you like to run, Peter?” Fri asked.

“Run ‘Shit, I should probably sleep’ please.”

Everyone except for Tyler looked at him confused. 

“Pulling up temporary back-ups now.” A few people understood and laughed. 

Tyler just grinned. “This isn’t the first time we’ve had to try and recover unsaved work. Thankfully we keep a temporary back-up of everything now.”

“That’s because your department is held together by caffeine, stubbornness, and concerned loved ones who are the only reason you guys ever eat and sleep.” Ashe chimed in happily.

Tyler rolled his eyes but didn’t offer any protest. Peter really couldn’t say anything either. Tony might be the worst of them all, but that didn’t mean the rest were particularly great at holding back when they felt inspired. Overtime wasn’t encouraged and actually discouraged because of that.

“Can you find a spider model from the past hour?”

“Right away.” Fri offered as the screen displayed various files being scanned through quickly.

Eventually a model popped up. “Is this it, Cindy?” Peter asked.

“Yes!” Cindy said, throwing her arms around Peter in a quick hug. Peter just grinned and returned the hug quickly, glancing at MJ who was giving him a proud smile. 

Flash was holding the model he printed out as if it was worth it’s weight in gold. Peter quickly moved Cindy’s order to the top of the list and it began printing. 

“Thank you Fri.” Peter offered as the program went back to its default state.

“My pleasure, Peter. Glad to be of help.”

There were some murmurs and people looking at Peter. He started to squirm a bit, not a huge fan of the attention he just drew to himself, but the look on Cindy’s face was worth it. He knew how devastating it was to lose something you worked on and were excited about, even if it was a smaller project.

MJ, sensing his distress, grabbed his hand and led him towards the second room of the area. “Come on, let’s explore more.” She offered and Peter just let her drag him along.

The next area was a bit similar to the last one. More tables with displays, but no printing machines around. Instead there were rough displays of a bunch of Avenger’s tech everywhere. No specifics were available, but there were a bunch of costumes you could look at different parts of, pull apart, mix and match.

Ned promptly freaked the fuck out and ran over to one of the tables with the shortest line. Betty, MJ, and him followed shortly behind. Peter watched him swipe through a bunch of different armors quickly, gasping with each one.

Peter turned to MJ, seeing her watching Cindy hold up the spider proudly. 

“You’re a nice guy.” MJ said, finally looking back at Peter. 

Peter shrugged. “I know how much it sucks to lose a project.”

MJ rolled her eyes. “That’s not what I mean. You wanted to avoid drawing any attention to yourself during this trip, but the second a classmate lost a project they worked on for a couple of minutes, you contacted Tony to ask for his help.” 

Peter was lost in her smile for a moment. “I mean… I could have used my override, but I was trying to act like just an intern.”

MJ nodded. “And if Tony ignored the request you would override it yourself. I know you would have.”

She was right. Peter just shrugged. “What did you make anyway?”

MJ pursed her lips, as if debating telling him. “I was gonna keep it a surprise till later but you deserve a treat for that.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out a small figure. It was a cartoonish looking spiderman, complete with him posing in his thwip motion. It was tiny, about the size of a keychain, but surprisingly well made and accurate to this usual suit.

MJ felt her heart fluttered as she saw his expression. His brown eyes had gone wide as she held up the dumb little figure she made. His eyes kept flicking between hers and the figure as he practically glowed with happiness. It was really unfair that such a little gesture could make her boyfriend look so adorable. 

MJ knew Spider-man meant the world to him, and that he was always afraid she’d hate it because of the drama it brought into their lives. But MJ was so proud of him, and while she wasn’t one to overly brag, heaven forbid he get Tony’s arrogance, she did think the world of him for doing it.

So if she could make his day by making a little trinket, she’d make them for the rest of her life.

Peter just leaned forward and kissed her quickly, knowing they had probably already shown more PDA than they usually would but he couldn’t help it. “You’re incredible.”

MJ scoffed. “It’s not that well done. It was quick.”

Shaking his head, Peter still met her eyes. “That’s not what I meant. I meant you. All of you. That too, but you.”

MJ blushed and turned her head, unable to handle the compliments. She just pocketed the figurine for safety before taking his hand and turned them back to where Betty was examining Black Widow’s outfit. 

“These Widow Bites are pretty sweet.”

Peter nodded. “They’re terrifying.”

MJ laughed. “Spider-man should get some then. Maybe she’d lend him one then, they have to spider pals or something.” She offered a teasing glance at Peter. 

Peter knew MJ knew he was friends with Natasha. She also knew Nat would never let him try them out, because that was a horrible idea that would end up with probably at least two different people hurt.

Betty stepped back and Peter thought for a moment. “What, like spider fangs?” Then he paused. “Actually…” He suddenly pulled up both the suits for Spider-man and Black Widow. The suits were old and out of date, but he just wanted to test an idea so it didn’t matter.

He quickly grabbed a widow bite and enlarged it, tossing away most of the arm mount, and flicking away different launchers from it till only a few remained. 

“Now pull up the web shooters.” Peter asked the holotable as they flicked up. He tossed away some of the other features on the suit. “Actually, bring up a repulsor too.” He muttered as he started stripping away parts from it to just have the glove.

MJ watched in admiration as she saw Peter in his natural habitat. Even more so than when he was sculpting, this was him at his best. She saw how tall he stood, his eyes focused but his face in a bright smile. She could practically hear the hum of the gears in his head as he gracefully navigated the menu, pulling apart holograms and attaching them with ease to form something new. He looked confident and in his element and she felt her face flush.

“I kinda get why he found it hot now.” MJ muttered to Betty quietly. 

Betty laughed and just patted her shoulder. “You two were made for each other.”

MJ rolled her eyes, but Peter was waving her over. He had the hologram in his hands, but made her stick her arm out. He moved it so now the hologram was floating around her arm. It was a simple gauntlet, with the web shooters underneath but two widowbites on top as he rambled about the possibility of webbing someone up then being to launch a taser at them without electrifying the whole web necessarily. 

“It’d look cooler if it was black with red highlights…” She offered and soon they were going back and forth as she posted with the holo weapon while Peter tweaked it to her suggestions. 

“Hey Fri, take some pictures please.” Ashe said as she leaned against the wall near Ned and Betty. 

MJ and Peter were too busy laughing with each other and playing around to notice.

“Are they always this adorable?” Ashe asked.

Ned nodded. “Yeah it’s kinda gross.” He said fondly. 

Betty sighed. “It’s better since they actually asked each other out. They danced around each other for ages, it was torture to watch. We were about to lock them in the broom closet until they got together. We had made plans for it too.”

Ashe laughed and watched them fondly. She had met Peter a few times through Pepper, and seen him in the lab with Tony whenever she had been sent over there with some work for him. Peter seemed like a good kid and reminded her of her fiance when he was younger. She was glad Peter had found someone that brought out a smile like that from him. He was always smiling, but that one was different. Warmer, somehow.

Eventually the two teens seemed to realize they were getting carried away and they stepped back from the holotable to let others have a chance.

“What?” Peter asked, tilting his head. 

Ashe just pulled out her phone and showed them a picture Friday had sent her.

MJ had her hand outstretched with a faint blue glow around it as the weapon hovered over her arm, Peter attaching another widow bite to it. They were looking at each other, Peter grinning while MJ had a deep warm smile.

Both of the teens blushed and didn’t say anything, but held each other’s hands. 

“Fri, send that to Peter. That deserves to be printed out.”

Peter blushed more, but nodded. It was an amazing photo. 

“Right away, Ashe.” Fri said. “I have cleared it of any sensitive information as well, so might I recommend adding it to your social media.”

“Thanks Fri.” Peter mumbled, blushing even more. 

MJ just laughed and squeezed his hand tighter. “I needed a new screensaver anyway.”

Eventually the group made their way to the third room and everyone’s jaw dropped except for Peter. “I was waiting for this.”

[linerwriter]

Proliferation

Part 1 and Part 2

The (hopefully) thrilling conclusion to the idea that took almost a year to finish! If this was on AO3 and I could see a date to when it was last edited, I would be ashamed.

An edited version will also be going up on AO3, if you are interested in seeing that. I do not know when it will be coming out, but hopefully before next year. I will be posting a link when it is up if anyone is interested.

TW: suicidal thoughts and trauma are expressed. If you wish to skip, it is from “Because I’m tired, Twilight” to “So how can I help you believe it?”

A week had passed since Wild’s attack, a week of tense silence and many excuses. Wild had woken up the house a few more times since then, but had still refused to elaborate on the reasons why. The only person he accepted to know was Zelda, and she was even tougher to crack.

“I’m really sorry, Mr. Time, but if you want to know, you need to ask Link yourself. It’s not my place to share someone else’s trauma.” Zelda said after Time tried to grill her for information. She slumped down, “I’ve tried my best to get him to open up, but he’s adamant on not doing that.”

Time sighed, “I understand, Princess. Just try your best to help him, okay?” She nodded and proceeded to leave the room, stopping at the entryway to look back at him.

“If you can find any way to help him, please do. And please, call me Zelda.”

Time smiled, “Of course, Zelda.” She smiled back and finally left the room, her short golden hair bouncing with her. He turned toward the other person in the room, the furry gray pelt seeming somehow deflated. Time could see the way Twilight’s eyes took on a more defeated tone than before they spoke to Zelda.

“Why?” Twilight whispered, “Why does he not want us to help him?”

Time closed his eye with a sigh, “I don’t know, cub. Perhaps he’s spoken to Malon about it?”

“But she would’ve told us by now if he did,” Twilight guessed. Time nodded silently, sitting down heavily in a chair. The two mingled in silence, an oppressive feeling in the air. It was broken when Twilight asked,

“How much longer until he breaks, Time?”

Time stared out the window, a helpless feeling he hadn’t felt in a long time creeping into his heart. “I don’t know.”

Their answer came later that night. It was decided that they were going to leave the next morning to meet with Time’s Zelda, and possibly leave Wild’s Zelda there to learn about the history of Hyrule that had been lost to the ages. 

The group had decided to head outside after dinner to enjoy the stars. They had set up a campfire and had taken turns sharing stories, regaling the others with quests of honor and mistakes. After Wind had shared about the first time he climbed out of a boat after sailing for a long time, which had led to many laughs, everyone turned to the duo glued together.

“You’ve must have done something dumb at one point, Wild.” Legend goaded the scarred hero, “Come on, tell us!”

Zelda giggled quietly, “I remember at one point, he tried to fly across Hyrule with some minecarts. He got to the Thundra Plateau and was zapped out of the sky!”

Wild smiled faintly, “And I seem to remember the time you thought you picked up a sword and it was really the bones of a dead bokoblin. You screamed so loud you woke up half of the forest.”

“Ugh.” Four wrinkled his nose, “I’m with you there, Princess.”

Zelda shuddered, “Never again. And like I’ve said, please, call me Zelda.”

“It’s kind of confusing to call you that, though, isn’t it? We all have our own Zeldas, so how do we know which one we’re talking about?”

Zelda hummed, “I see your point. A nickname, perhaps? You can give one to every Zelda you end up meeting.”

“That sounds like a good plan. What would you like to be called, Zelda?” Malon said warmly from beside Time.

Zelda thought for a moment, “Scientist, perhaps?”

Warriors shook his head, “Too stiff.”

“How about Bones? From how much you screamed at some?” Legend snickered.

Twilight saw the subtle flinch Wild made at the suggestion. He exchanged a look with Time, the other looking resigned. Zelda took his hand and said softly, “Maybe not that one.”

The naming went on for a few more minutes, the nicknames getting closer and closer but still not perfect. Zelda was clutching Wild’s hand tightly, looking at his blank expression every so often. Finally, they got to the point where everyone was quiet, listening to the crackle of the fire and thinking. It ended when a voice spoke up.

“Flora,” Wild said shortly, “Her name is Flora.” Then he left the group.

Twilight followed.

“Wild.”

“I’m fine, Twilight.”

“Are you sure?” Twilight raised an eyebrow at Wild’s back, “You don’t seem fine to me.”

“I’m fine, Twilight, now will you please leave me alone?”

“No, cub, because you’re very obviously not ‘fine’.”

Wild finally stopped walking to throw his hands up into the air, “Goddesses, Twilight, I’m fine! I just wanted to leave!”

“Yes, you’re fine and you didn’t just leave the group for no reason.” Twilight sighed, “Wild, I know. Whenever you say you’re fine, you’re never fine.”

“Oh? And how are you so sure?”

“Would you like a list?”

Wild breathed in slowly in annoyance. His voice was measured and clipped as he said, “I am okay, Twilight. You can go back to the group now.”

“Uh, no, I’m not.” Twilight crossed his arms as his voice became more serious, “Cub, I’ve seen you this entire week. You’re tense, constantly searching the surroundings for an exit. You’ve had nightmares multiple times this week, and yet, the only person allowed to help you is Flora.” With each word, Twilight saw Wild’s shoulders lower further and further, until he looked like a hedgehog. He continued lowly, “You don’t laugh anymore. You don’t smile. You react to a joke, sure, but it’s never genuine. Once the attention is off of you, you shut down.”

“Th-that’s…”

“I’m not the only one that’s noticed, Wild. Everyone has.” Wild whipped his head up in surprise, “They just know there’s no point in trying.”

Silence. Wild’s hands started to wring together, his head lowered to the ground. Twilight looked at him, his eyes boring into the smaller man’s head. 

“When will you tell me what happened, Wild?”

“I can’t,” came a wretched whisper.

“Why?” Twilight’s question was calm.

“Because it’s easier for me to keep my head down and ignore it.”

“Bullshit!” Twilight’s anger was starting to manifest outside of his mind. “You ignore it because it’s easier? When have we ever done that?!”

“Because I’m tired, Twilight!” Wild finally swung his eyes toward Twilight’s, who could see the pain and misery etched into them. “I’m sick and tired of being those deities plaything! For over a hundred years, I have been forced to do what they told me to, and at this point, I don’t care anymore. If this kills me, then so be it. I welcome it, even!”

“Don’t you dare say that!”

“And why can’t I? Because you care about me?” Wild’s voice started to steadily rise. “Do you know what it feels like to have your entire beliefs questioned? To know that because you just weren’t good enough, everything fell apart? I had to retrain myself to be worthy of the Master Sword, Twi, you know this! I was the one responsible for what happened when the Calamity came. I was the reason why it turned out the way it did. I WAS THE REASON WHY THEY’RE DEAD!”

So, Twilight thought, that’s what this is about. He watched numbly as Wild fell to his knees, sobbing uncontrollably. With a faint sigh, he stood and crouched down next to his friend, rubbing his back gently. 

“...Do you wanna know why me and Zelda are always so close together?” Wild’s question came out quiet and defeated.

Twilight’s response was just as quiet. “Sure.”

The smaller man took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “D-down there, there were some monsters that liked to play with our minds. They could manipulate the way we perceived the world, make us see things that weren’t real.” His voice dropped to a whisper, “At one point, I thought Zelda had been killed.”

“And since they can’t replicate the Goddess’s light, you took to being close to one another to make sure it was real,” Twilight guessed with a sinking heart.

Wild nodded his head dumbly, staring at the fire. Twilight sighed again, “It’s okay to ask for help, you know. I’m always here, so is Time. You don’t have to keep it bottled up inside.”

“I don’t want to be a burden.”

“You’re not a burden.”

“There’s a difference between knowing and believing, Twilight!” Wild snapped.

“So how can I help you believe it?” Twilight asked gently, “‘Cause you aren’t, Wild, and you never were. I guarantee you, if I go around to everyone in this group and ask if you are a burden, they would say no. You cook for us, you hunt for us, you make everyone worry whenever you do some death-defying stunt and come out alive at the end!” He shook his head, “Asking for help doesn’t make you a burden, Wild. It means you’re willing to start respecting yourself and allowing yourself to heal.”

Wild sniffed, “You really think so?”

“I know so.” Twilight took a moment to compose himself, “You know my journey. You know what happened during it. You know the trauma and fear it gave me; for years, I carried that around with me, unwilling to bare myself to the world and accept the love and kindness the people around me were desperately trying to give. It took Zelda finally knocking some sense into me to realize that keeping it to myself wasn’t good, it was harmful.”

“Did she really?” Wild turned his big blue eyes toward Twilight for a moment, a sparkle so curious it reminded Twilight of Colin.

He smiled ruefully, “Took a good smack at me.” He wagged a finger at Wild, causing the younger man to giggle, “Never offend a Zelda, they have a mean right hook. You should know that better than anyone.”

Wild nodded, the last of his tears drying up, “I wouldn’t dare.”

“Good, you’re smarter than me. Anyway,” Twilight became serious again, “you can’t keep bottling yourself up, pup. Do you have to share everything that happened right away? No, that would be cruel. But if something is wrong, like what happened last week, then you gotta say something. Even if it’s as simple as ‘I’m feeling sad today, can I have a hug?’ No one will blame you. Got it?”

Wild nodded again, “Got it. Can I have a hug right now?”

Twilight’s face softened, “Of course you can, pup. Come on, bring it in.” He opened his arms wide, giving the younger man a big bear (wolf) hug. Wild relaxed into the hold, breathing in the comforting scent of his pseudo-older brother. 

The two broke apart a few moments later, after Wild finally felt better for the first time in months. He took a deep breath, “Can I tell you a bit about what happened down there?”

Twilight very carefully didn’t react, “Whatever you want, Wild. And while we’re on that, mind telling me about the arm?” He gestured towards Wild’s limb, “It’s a bit more… glowy than before.”

Wild laughed lightly, “Sure. It all started when…”

[aurorawest]

can you also do a director's commentary on "Fool for You"? 🐠 this is one of my favs 🥰

Yeah! Thank you for asking about this one! Since it’s over 6k words I’ll just grab the interesting parts, I hope that’s okay! Link on AO3.

First of all, I will just say, I was shocked by the response to this fic. I wrote it for Froststrange Week earlier this year, and it was by far the fluffiest fic I wrote for that event. It’s one of the fluffiest things I’ve written ever. I was actually nervous to post it...and I’ve written some very dark stuff that didn’t even give me pause before hitting the post button on AO3, haha. But this one? I distinctly remember my palms getting sweaty (gross) and having to walk away from my computer after I posted it, because I was so freaked out. But people liked it! It was probably my most popular Froststrange Week fic.

Onto the fic...

Loki craned his head, staring upwards as the massive shark moved smoothly and silently through the water overhead. He’d never seen anything like it, despite his one thousand and sixty years in the universe. It moved off, disappearing over rocks dappled with slow, turquoise sunlight.

“It’s a whale shark,” Stephen informed him, staring down at an informational plaque posted along the walkway. Loki had read all of them so far, but he’d stopped dead in his tracks in the glass tunnel when he’d seen the shark, too awed by it to move. Ahead of them and behind them, the screams and excited voices of school groups echoed, but the two of them were in a lull between throngs.

The prompts for the day that I used were ‘firsts’ and ‘aquarium date.’ The aquarium part was a no brainer for me, because I head canon that Loki is a big nature lover, and that he particularly loves the ocean.

Rays sailed through the water alongside the shark. Those, Loki was more familiar with. They’d had them on Asgard. Extinct now, of course. All of Asgard’s species, all its plants, animals, insects, all of it, were extinct. It was a depressing thought.

Okay, well, this is a fluffy fic, but obviously I’m incapable of writing pure fluff. It’s Loki, so there has to be some angst.

Always prone to depressing thoughts, Loki was. He looked at the whale shark again, then at Stephen, leaning over the plaque and reading it—mostly for Loki’s benefit, so the two of them could talk about it. That made Loki’s heart swell. His sadness would always be with him, but his happiness sat next to it, bright and blinding. Stephen Strange, Sorcerer Supreme, Guardian of the New York Sanctum, human sorcerer and ridiculously, heart-poundingly beautiful man, was responsible for much of it.

Loki is really, really in love. And he can finally be free about admitting it.

Turning around, Stephen met Loki’s eyes and said, “So, the Georgia Aquarium was a good choice?”

In preparation to write this fic, I googled what the world’s best aquariums were. I knew the Georgia Aquarium was a big deal (both from living in north Florida for a time and just...being a person who likes zoos and aquariums), but I wanted to see if there were others. Obviously, Stephen can go anywhere, so for their first date, he would take Loki to the best of the best. The Georgia Aquarium does consistently appear at the very top of aquarium lists (others were Monterey Bay and one in...Dubai, I think?).

I spent a lot of time on the Georgia Aquarium’s website. It’s a huge place and has lots of different aquariums, so I had to choose the one they would spend most of their time at. The website has webcams on a lot of the aquariums, so I actually watched them while I was writing.

[...] This place made one want to learn about Earth’s oceans, which might make them less prone to destroying them. Since he’d taken up permanent residence on Earth, Loki had learned to love it—and he’d grown increasingly aware that humanity was rather short-sighted about the planet they lived on.

Loki the environmentalist.

Then again, somehow he doubted that if Hela had been better educated about Asgard’s mollusk population, she would have decided not to take over and kill everyone.

This line always makes me laugh.

[...] “Good,” Stephen said. “I figured you’d like it. But, you know. First date and everything. I wanted to get it right.”

The squirming in Loki’s stomach turned to a full explosion of butterflies. First date. Could two people have a first date when they’d already exchanged avowals of love? Hadn’t that been the first date? Or perhaps their first date had been years ago, without either of them quite knowing it?

It’s always a balance for me to write these fics that take place in the ‘future,’ as compared to where I am in the chronological writing of this verse. I just finished fic #6 in my series, which takes place in 2027. This fic takes place in 2030. The avowals of love Loki refers to hear is from the end of the last fic in the series, ‘The General Mess and Imprecision of Feeling,’ and is when the two of the officially get together. They unknowingly going on their first date years ago is a reference to the fact that the two of them have been doing date-like activities with each other for years, just with neither of them admitting it. One of my other fics for Froststrange Week is actually one of these instances (‘far away from here and closer to somewhere else,’ where they run into each other in Hong Kong and get drunk together). In fic #8 (which I’m working on now), they end up spending the day together in London. In fic #9, they spend a lot of Thor and Jane’s wedding together.

He craned his head up to stare at the top of the glass tunnel, 

They’re in the Ocean Voyager aquarium.

suddenly not knowing what to say, feeling as though he might make a fool of himself. A sea turtle swam by slowly, the underside of its shell gleaming like the moon. The truth was that he’d probably made a fool of himself in front of Stephen so many times that it no longer even registered to him.

Or maybe… Loki looked over at him. Stephen was watching him, a look in his eyes that made warmth spread through Loki. Maybe Stephen didn’t actually find Loki foolish. Maybe he never had.

The idea of Loki being a sentimental fool is something that pops up pretty constantly in my fics. Here, Loki is thinking of times he’s actually looked stupid in front of Stephen, real and imagined. He has the wherewithal to recognize that maybe a lot of them are imagined, and that even the real humiliations don’t make Stephen view Loki as a fool.

“How did you know I would like this?” Loki asked.

[...] “Remember the time we went to the Museum of Natural History?”

“Yes.” Loki raised an eyebrow at him. “You really played tour guide quite often, didn’t you?”

Giving Loki an amused look, Stephen said, “It seemed like the decent thing to do. I had royalty living at my house.”

[...] “Silly me,” Loki said. “I thought it might be because you had a bit of a thing for me back then.” Stephen shot him a crooked smile. It wasn’t agreement. But it certainly wasn’t denial, either.

Stephen definitely did have a thing for Loki back then. Loki had a thing for him, too. By the time Loki leaves the Sanctum, they’re in love with each other, though neither of them has quite realized it yet. Stephen realizes much sooner then Loki (surprise).

[...] If Loki was being honest, he’d been mildly terrified that he would arrive at the Sanctum and Stephen would do something—look at him in some way, speak to him in a way that was just a bit false—that Loki would know that Stephen had thought about it and decided that they’d made a terrible mistake and he was looking for a way to extricate himself from their new…relationship. Romance. Whatever it was.

This is Loki’s constant fear. It takes him a long, long time to stop worrying about it. It’s his fear with everyone, though. Boil Loki down to his bare essentials, and you get a giant heart and massive abandonment issues.

Loki snorted with laughter and then grinned at Stephen. “Your expression, honestly, Strange. I’ve seen you face far greater foes with much less fear.”

[...] Shrugging, Stephen said, “Kids. Not really my thing.”

“It’s not as though you need to bring them home.”

[...] “I enjoy the chaos that children cause.”

“You might be the only person here who’s enjoying the decibel level of that pack of kids,” Stephen said.

Loki actually really likes kids! And Stephen doesn’t at all.

Loki flashed a grin at him, thought about making a joke about having children, and then dismissed it. It would be a joke, because the last thing Loki wanted right now, possibly ever, was a child that he could pass all his hang-ups to. His own upbringing had been…a challenge. He doubted his ability to overcome it.

My main interest in the two of them ever having a child lies in exploring Loki’s issues with his own father.

[Stephen reveals his big surprise...is that he booked an aquarium sleepover] It was more than Loki didn’t know what to think. What was an aquarium sleepover? Sleeping here? They allowed people to do that? Had this cost extra money? Stephen didn’t have any money, so why would he spend extra on something like this?

You really can do aquarium sleepovers at the Georgia Aquarium! It’s actually not that expensive, but Loki knows that Stephen’s only income is a stipend from Kamar-Taj. Stephen has nothing at all left over from his pre-wizard days and he depends entirely on that stipend.

[...] The two of them continued through the aquarium, visiting each gallery in turn. Even though Loki was quite sure Stephen’s interest in all of this was limited, he never gave any indication that he was bored. He seemed, actually, entirely taken by Loki’s enthusiasm, and that was a feeling that Loki had certainly never experienced. 

I really tapped into that brand-new relationship feeling for this fic, haha.

The number of healthy romantic relationships that Loki had experienced was…pretty close to zero, so there had never been someone who had been interested both in sleeping with him and in seeing him enjoying his interests.

It actually is zero. Loki has never had a healthy romantic relationship. He’s hedging here because the romantic encounters he’s had that approach healthy count to him as relationships.

They ate dinner at the aquarium café, which was serviceable but nothing special. At least, the food was nothing special. It was the first time Loki and Stephen had eaten dinner together as a couple. Gods. Loki felt like an adolescent. He was eating a veggie burger and Stephen was eating chicken tenders, with drinks they’d filled themselves out of a fountain machine, and somehow it was the most romantic dinner he’d ever had. Stephen’s knee pressed against Loki’s under the table and he leaned forward like he couldn’t stand that the table top had put a couple feet of space between them.

In other words, Loki could have been eating just the ketchup packets that had been provided to him on his tray, and he would have been happier than he’d ever been in his life.

This is one of my favorite parts of the whole fic. Anyone who’s ever been crazy about a new romantic partner has had this experience, I think.

[Stephen conjures butterflies for the kids they encountered earlier] Suddenly, thousands of blue butterflies burst from within the half-spheres, swirling in a bright blue stream across the ceiling and amongst the children, whose delighted shrieks made their teachers wilt. The butterflies flitted, azure and lapis, iridescent, bobbing on air currents, until they turned to wisps of light and disappeared.

I rarely make use of the whole butterfly thing with Stephen, primarily because I tend to associate it with another Stephen ship (which is one of my NOTPs), but...it’s nice, right? I wanted to use it. A butterfly also appears in Doctor Strange, so it’s imagery that seems to be sort of associated with him.

[left alone in the gallery for their sleepover...] Loki looked around. “Shouldn’t there be other people here?” he asked.

Stephen looked immensely satisfied with himself. “Nope. We get the whole gallery to ourselves.”

Furrowing his brow, Loki asked, “How? Did you buy all the tickets?” This seemed as though it would have been exorbitantly expensive.

Still looking enormously pleased, Stephen said, “I might have played the Sorcerer Supreme card.”

“No one knows what the Sorcerer Supreme does.”

“Okay, fine. I said I was an Avenger.”

My head canon is that Stephen is pretty disdainful of the Avengers. He definitely doesn’t want to be part of the ‘team.’ He’s a loner by nature. Definitely the guy who hated group projects, because he was the one that got stuck doing all the work. This loner quality is something that Loki and Stephen have in common.

[...] Loki buried his nose in Stephen’s hair and breathed in his scent, his shampoo that smelled like sandalwood, the cologne he had definitely put on today, cedar and faintly citrusy. Norns, he smelled good.

Loki first associates the smell of sandalwood with Stephen in Sleight of Hand (it’s right at the end of chapter 12). His cologne makes an appearance in my fic ‘Afterimage,’ which is the fifth fic in my series.

[...] Loki took the sleeping bags from Stephen and undid the ties on them, which were knotted far too tightly for Stephen to loosen.

Stephen actually being affected by his disability is always important for me to include.

[...] Loki laughed. Maybe none of the other Masters thought Stephen was funny, but Loki had always found his sense of humor addictive, sly and surprising, and perfectly suited to Loki’s own.

This is a callback to Stephen’s and Wong’s exchange in Doctor Strange:

“People used to think I was funny.” “Did they work for you?”

[...] There were other things in the bag—a change of clothes for tomorrow, toothbrushes, toothpaste, some over-the-counter medications. When Stephen went to the bathroom to change, Loki snooped more thoroughly. Razor blade, shaving cream, nail clippers, a little bottle of mouthwash, a bottle of cologne. Loki decided to pop the cap open and smell that, then tried to tell himself that the feeling that washed over him could be described in some other way than ‘a swoon.’ There was nothing in the bag that implied Stephen thought they’d be doing anything tonight but sleeping.

I really love this because it’s really not particularly above board for Loki to snoop through Stephen’s bag...but it is a very Loki thing to do. And pretty human. Especially because he’s looking for condoms and lube. Of course he is! They’re spending the night together...are they Spending The Night Together?

[...] Stephen looked at the foot of empty space separating the two sleeping bags, then glanced up at Loki. “Are you comfortable with…” he began, then trailed off, before trying again, “I mean, do you want to be…further away…?”

“Do you?” Loki asked. When Stephen hesitated, Loki took a guess about what the honest answer was, then reached out and tugged Stephen’s sleeping bag until it was right next to his.

Stephen is big on enthusiastic consent. Loki is far more willing to take his chances and guess based on body language.

Eventually, they drew apart, and Loki couldn’t help suspecting it had something to do with the way Stephen seemed to be keeping his hips pulled back just a little. Temptation. If Loki reached down…

But no. Instead, he very deliberately folded an arm under his head, resting his head on his bicep. Stephen did something that looked like it was probably a clothing or anatomy adjustment to accommodate a situation, but Loki didn’t comment. Quite honesty, he had his own situation down there, and it just felt like good manners not to say anything.

I honestly have no idea what guys would do in this situation. Just guessing based on both of their personalities. Is a first date too soon to admit, ‘Hey, you just gave me a boner?’ It feels like it is?

Neither of them spoke for a minute or two. They simply stared at each other. Then, Stephen said gently, “I know you’re worried.”

“Worried?” Loki raised an eyebrow. “What do you think I’m worried about?”

Stephen’s gaze didn’t waver. “This.” When Loki pressed his lips together, Stephen added, “You think I’m going to change my mind. Right?”

No one has ever gotten Loki the way Stephen gets him. And Stephen is very patient, very gentle, and very like...you know when you pspspspsps and hold your hand out to a cat? That’s Stephen with Loki, haha.

[...] “The reasons are myriad, of course [for Loki’s insecurity]. I’ve made poor choices. But yes. In part, it’s because I’m…challenging. And people change their minds.”

Oh hey look, it’s the author projecting.

[...] But Loki was greedy. He didn’t want to say in a few months, or a few years, This was great while it lasted. 

There’s something kind of sad to me about the idea that Loki can’t even view his love for Stephen as an entirely good thing. He’s a sentimental fool, he’s overly romantic, he’s greedy. And if I wanted to go this route, I could easily make Loki very co-dependent in this relationship; it would be easy to turn it really unhealthy. But I don’t want to, haha. It makes sense that Loki would feel like he has to gorge himself on Stephen’s adoration of him, because he’s never really had this before, not from someone he wants to be with (other people have loved him, but he hasn’t loved them back).

He would already have to give it up too soon, because he would outlive Stephen by such a long time. And he already knew there would never be anyone else.

There isn’t. Stephen will die, and Loki won’t ever be with anyone else. Luckily for him, he gets Stephen back eventually.

Stephen leaned forward and kissed Loki softly; the most tender, most heartfelt kiss Loki had ever experienced. “Don’t worry,” he murmured, his lips warm against Loki’s.

It was difficult not to deepen the kiss, difficult not to kiss Stephen harder. He’d never needed anything to be true as much as he needed this to be true, or at least it felt like it. Don’t worry. But Loki always worried. All the good things in his life still felt so fragile, as though they could implode at any moment.

Though—he supposed he was getting better at not actively sabotaging them himself.

This is part of Loki’s arc in my fic. Stephen and he aren’t together until Loki heals in a lot of other ways. One of them is not trying to blow things up so he can control their destruction.

Thank you so much for asking!! Sorry for the delay in responding.

Fanfic Writers: Director’s Cut