#getting really emotional over it at random intervals of the day what else is new

[cherrywhite]

"What's the opposite of a sacrifice?" The Silt Verses asks. A gift, is the audience's knee-jerk reaction. It has to be a gift, right? But no, perhaps that's too simple, isn't it? It can't be that easy. Neither Paige or Carpenter got the answer, so it has to be something more complex, right? Maybe...something reclaimed? Preserving in the face of sacrifice? Maybe the answer is something loftier? And episodes later, we finally get the answer and it's...

A gift. Of course it's a gift. How could it be anything else? A joy with no conditions. 

And I think this brilliantly shows how unthinkable a life without sacrifice is, in the world of The Silt Verses. Sacrifice is so ingrained into the society they've built that an opposite is entirely unthinkable. Paige didn't get it. Carpenter dismissed the question entirely. And ya, they were both taken off guard by the question, never really gave it serious consideration you could argue. But even we as the audience began to turn ourselves inside out, trying to find an answer to the riddle that would fit for the world of The Silt Verses. You've won, because they can't get away from you, says Val, they’ve never once seen the light beyond the light you made for them. There's no getting better for any of us. That answer, something that was right in front of us this whole time, seemed as if it was too easy, too simple. Outside of the parameters of the complicated world these characters must live in.

And Hayward will sit with Carpenter, the two enjoying each other's company despite the odds, and describe how stars provide light without asking for anything in return. He will go on the radio with Paige, neither of them able to decipher each other's words, the connection too flimsy, and be content with just the gift of getting to hear her voice. This is a world where the opposite of a sacrifice is unthinkable. And yet, it exists anyway. The answer exists in all these small moments. In Paige sitting down for breakfast with Carpenter and Faulkner. In Carpenter and Faulkner finally understanding each other, the two standing at the edge of a pier as their god's currents come to take them away. In Hayward and Paige giving characters like Elgin a second chance, her life previously forfeit as nothing more than a body for the government. In Gage asking their sister to go home together. In Shrue extending a hand out to Cross. Acantha, offering a warm seat and tea to Carpenter as she decides where to go next. Val, getting on the phone one last time, to ever so slightly shift the winds.

And I'm not sure what my point was here, I'll admit. But these are the moments of the podcast that will forever stay with me. All these moments of genuine love and warmth and everything in between. It can still end with love, can't it? asks Carpenter. And it can; and it does. It always could. And that's a gift in and of itself. 

[moonfurthetemmie]

I’m Out Of Funky Titles For the Crossover of DS Verses

I couldn’t write a whole lot for the scenarios I had, so I put them all together. 

Previous | Next

“…I suppose that answers one of your questions,” Blue mumbled.

The new Dream’s expression didn’t change much. Blue was starting to learn that he just didn’t emote. It was unnerving, even after him staying with Blue these past few days.

The new Dream, who had taken the nickname ‘Delusion’ for now, was listening intently to the remainder of the JR announcement of the…other Meme Squad. Even the censored blood from the security footage made Blue queasy. He really hoped he didn’t run into them.

“I suppose it does,” Delusion mused. “The three of them…It’s not like them to risk something like that. I suspect they appeared there much the way I appeared in that park, and didn’t see any way to just sneak out.” He tapped his chin. “They wouldn’t have been able to get nearly that far in our multiverse, though…Perhaps this JR has less security.”

“W-well…our Meme Squad aren’t murderers,” Blue said. “They- The guards don’t really have to worry about being killed when they break in. They would’ve been…pretty unprepared.”

Delusion hummed, but said nothing.

Blue handed him the remote. “I’m…I’m going to go lay down. I don’t want to hear any more.” He was only feeling more and more sick the more he watched.

Delusion’s expression softened ever so slightly. “Alright. Would you like me to lower the volume some?”

“That would be...much appreciated,” Blue mumbled. “Thank you.”

Delusion turned his attention to the announcement. Perhaps he should pay this JR a visit sooner than he’d intended…They may need his help tracking down his Meme Squad. He was still worried about Blue, though. He was still awful anxious; what was he afraid of? Perhaps an ex-lover was stalking him? Paranoid that someone was out to get him? Or just nervous to be in Delusion’s presence? Whatever the case, Delusion was sure he could assist, though it would be very difficult to do so if he left.

If the problem was simply shyness, it would be alright to leave him alone, but Delusion wasn’t sure that Blue would tell him the truth. He’d lied about staying with a sister, Delusion had no guarantee he wouldn’t lie about a dangerous stalker or what have you. He was probably afraid to be honest.

Delusion felt bad for him. But he really should go visit his alternate…Maybe he should take Blue with him. When Blue wasn’t feeling so sick, at least.

~~

“We need to figure out where they could be hiding,” Dream said. “They can’t escape to their multiverse to hide-“

“Which only leaves us with the entirety of this multiverse,” one of the monsters at the table said dryly. A small owl monster that had to sit on a stack of books to see over the table. “Shouldn’t take too long.”

Dream sighed. “Yes. Thank you, Peggy.” He turned on the projector and brought up a map of the multiverse.

‘Map’ was a very generous term for the thing; it was impossible to map realms with no physical distance or barriers between them, so it was more a graph of many known universes. Large circles for particularly important ones (such as the AU JR’s headquarters is in, or the universe that is theorized to have been the very first one in the multiverse, and the ‘first’ of several other genres of AUs…), and small circles for minor timelines or universes that had at least something of interest—mainly AUs that the Meme Squad was known to frequent, or hide out in. There were notes denoting whether a universe was particularly positive or negative, and anything else that JR decided was of interest to them.

“Sparrow, what can you tell us about the places the Horror Squad tend to hide in?”

Sparrow, the new Finch, folded his arms and studied the map. “Not much,” he admitted. “So far as we’ve been able to discern, there’s no real pattern. When it was only Pluto, he’d switch between hiding in positive AUs and negative AUs at random intervals. But since he was joined by Slash and Byte, we’ve been finding hideouts a lot less, and there seems to be even less pattern to that when we can find one.”

“I’m willing to bet they’ve got a more permanent place in the middle of nowhere, so they can’t be spotted or tracked,” one of the other humans said. “We’ve suspected the Meme Squad’s got a place like that for a while, now It would be the safest way to hide, and explain why we haven’t found any kind of hideout in years.”

Sparrow slowly nodded. “That would be smart. They can’t do that now, though. They could try to go to the Meme Squad’s house, but given what I’ve heard of them, and the whole destiny bond thing, they may be willing to risk calling for help from JR, and there’s been nothing except a random note about a freeloader.”

“Which still doesn’t make any sense,” Peggy mumbled. “Unless it had some hidden message that was just ‘fuck you’.”

“And I doubt they’d call murderous alternates of themselves ‘a freeloader’,” the human said. “So Horror Squad may go back to Pluto’s old method?”

“That’d be my guess, but I don’t know where they’d start,” Sparrow admitted.

Dream rubbed his chin, and looked over the map. “…Well. It’s a good start. Now…”

~~

Ink was woken from her sleep by a searing pain in her side, and an annoyed voice saying, “If this doesn’t wake you up I’m going to start cutting fingers off.”

She yelled out in pain and jolted away, only to fall on her side, the chair she was sitting on banging against the floor with her.

“Good morning.” The voice said with false cheerfulness. “Christ, you’ve been out for ages. I didn’t hit you that hard.”

Ink’s vision was blurred from pain and sleep, but she recognized that voice. She also recognized the feel of a rough fiber rope binding her arms and legs to the chair.

“Wh…what the hell,” she gasped. “What did you fucking stab me with?”

Her chair was pulled upright, and she was turned to face her alternate. She’d taken off her jacket, revealing a black tank-top, and identical tattoos to the ones Ink had on her arms. She had one hand on her hip, and in the other was holding a rod of metal. One end was glowing bright red. She looked deeply unimpressed.

“I didn’t stab you,” she scoffed, walking off and setting it carefully on a metal table. There were…a lot of things on the table. Things that Ink didn’t like the look of. She twisted her hands in their bindings, to no avail. “I poked you. There’s a big difference. We’ll get to the stabbing with hot metal later.”

“….what the fuck.”

Her alternate picked up a pair of blue rubber gloves, pulling them on as she glanced at Ink. “You’re not particularly interesting. You’re pretty boring, actually.” She picked up one of the things on the table, though Ink couldn’t see what exactly. “But I thought, y’know, if I’m going to be stuck in another multiverse, I want to get some fun out of it.” She picked up a small white square—an alcohol wipe?—next, and wiped off whatever she had in her hand. “I can only get my hands on so many people, though. Especially if some of your JR is on their way.”

She turned around, slowly twirling a razor blade between her fingers. The blade was still damp from the rubbing alcohol.

“I don’t have my Dream here to cover me for this stuff, so I have to take some extra to not be found.”

Her eyes gleamed with a strange light as she stepped towards Ink.

“I’ve taken your phone already, and made sure it can’t be tracked.”

Ink’s breathing quickened.

“This shed used to be part of a park, but it looks like it’s been abandoned for years.”

She tried to push herself away. Fighting against the rope around her hands desperately.

“No one will find you.”

She could only manage a few inches, the way her feet were tied to the chair.

“And no one can hear you.”

Her alternate roughly grabbed the chair and held her in place.

“If you bore me now, I’ll cut your throat and leave you to the crows.”

She could’t remember the last time she’d felt so fucking scared.

“So you better have a decent pain tolerance, and you better scream.”

The razor came down on her skin.

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 313: Deku VS Lady Nagant

Previously on BnHA: Hawks’s super-hot badass murder senpai Lady Nagant showed up to fire a cupid’s arrow into my heart, and a bunch of literal bullets into my son. Deku was all “oh shit it’s Hawks’s super-hot badass murder senpai, what do I do, let me think back to Hawks’s advice for a sec.” Flashback!Hawks was all “anyway Deku so if my super-hot badass murder senpai ever shows up you’re basically screwed so you’d better abscond the fuck out of there.” Present!Deku was all “lol idek why I flashed back to that conversation since I’m just going to do the exact opposite of what Hawks said” and charged directly toward Nagant because WHY NOT. Overhaul was all “waah I need to get back to my boss who I put in a coma out of love” and Nagant was all “jesus christ why did I even bring you here” and had a flashback to AFO who was all “ILU NAGANT IMMA GIVE YOU AN EXTRA QUIRK SO PLEASE CAPTURE DEKU FOR ME PLEASE AND THANKS” and yeah. Shit is all over the place right now and I love it.

Today on BnHA: All Might gets attacked by a pair of discount assassins and is all “Call an ambulance! ...BUT NOT FOR ME” and it’s really badass but also I really wish he would stop tempting fate like this. Lady Nagant is all “[casually flies around town shooting shit]” and I’d be lying if I said I wouldn’t read an entire chapter of just that. Deku is all, “[gets shot (≥_<)]” and releases a giant Smokescreen which prompts En to show up. En is all, “( •᷄⌓•᷅ ) (⌣̀ Δ⌣́) ( •̀_•́ )σ (¬､¬) (눈_눈)” which I consider to be a high point of both the chapter and of my life. The chapter ends with Deku using the Third’s quirk to launch a bunch of random objects at Nagant so that he can jump up and grab her arm all sneaky-like, and I’m sure this is going to prompt another week’s worth of discourse that I don’t care about at all, but fuck it, I’m having a good time.

OH WE’RE CUTTING BACK TO ALL MIGHT WELL THAT’S NICE I GUESS. CONGRATS ON NOT BEING DEAD

you named your car??

you named it Hercules??

I love you so much??

please marry me you giant fucking dork???

lmao speaking of huge fucking dorks

who the fuck are you clowns. la dee da we’re gonna murder All Might with our synchronized spear attack!! I mean... they’re clearly trying their best... maybe I should just be nice and politely hype them up like All Might is so clearly trying to do

like okay, but we all agree that this is actually the least intimidating attack any of us has ever seen, right?? these guys zipped up their hoodies all serious-like and are trying to attack All Might and Hercules with their Walmart tiki torches, but just, no?? right?? like the only way this could possibly be effective is if they were trying to kill All Might with secondhand embarrassment

“those are assassins” this is a VERY generous assessment, All Might

OH MY GOD THE TIKI TORCHES ACTUALLY KILLED THE FUCK OUT OF HERCULES

[slaps roof of car] this baby can fit so many weaponized festive backyard lighting solutions in it

and yet, even after watching this with my own two eyes, I still can’t take these dudes seriously. idek what it is. anyways r.i.p. Hercules, I loved you a lot but I guess you weren’t actually a very good armored car were you

omg they didn’t know it was All Might??

okay 1) for a moment there I was like “oh hey maybe they’re not so bad after all” but then a moment later it was like “ah nope, they are.” like, that was an interesting .06 second emotional journey there. anyways 2) All Might you have my permission to kick their asses for this disrespect, and 3) anyone else all of a sudden getting “wouldn’t this be an interesting time for Stain to suddenly show up” vibes?? no?? just me???

(ETA: hmm tbh I’ve still got those vibes and they haven’t gone away lol. Stain?? you out there buddy?? do you want to be cool for just once in your life. ball’s in your court pal.)

OH SNAP ALL MIGHT ARE YOU REALLY GONNA DO IT ARE YOU GONNA KICK THEIR ASSES

PROTECTIVE DAD MODE ACTIVATED?? BECAUSE YOU KNOW I’M HERE FOR THAT SHIT, SO YEAH, FEEL FREE

omg he’s shouting at them about how much Deku has suffered lmao and they’re just like falling over from being scolded

so they have absolutely no idea what he’s talking about though, right? “SIR THIS IS A WENDY’S” well whatever, you killed his pet car so he’s in a bad mood now

OH MY GOD

LIKE, JUST SO WE’RE ALL CLEAR, THESE FOUR PAGES SO FAR HAVE MADE ALMOST ZERO SENSE. LIKE MAYBE 2% SENSE TOPS. BUT ASK ME IF I CARE. GO AHEAD AND ASK. I SAID GO AHEAD, IT’S OKAY. ...NO I DON’T CARE AT ALL THANK YOU FOR ASKING

(ETA: also, the more I look at this panel, the more I’m just like, why the hell would you phrase it like that though, sob. way to doubly tempt fate?? are you trying to give Horikoshi a challenge??)

and now back to Deku who is randomly bouncing around the city and narrating it to himself just in case he was confused about why he was doing this

who are you talking to Deku. but thanks we appreciate it

man you gotta love that overconfidence. the smartest guy in the world warned you away from this lady, so SURE, LET’S RUN RIGHT UP TO HER. “I APPRECIATE YOUR INPUT, FLASHBACK!HAWKS, BUT I’LL TAKE IT FROM HERE” well okay then!!

I think it would be funny if RHA.com put little Buzzfeed-style polls in between the chapter pages so they could survey people at random intervals as they read their way through the chapter. like, you finish this page and then there’s a little poll there asking “do you think Deku’s plan of catching up to Lady Nagant and finding out where Shigaraki is will work?”, and you click “no” just like everyone else and then nod as the results show that 97% of your fellow readers also picked “no”, and you chuckle to yourself wondering how many of the 3% accidentally clicked on the wrong option by mistake, and then you keep on reading

ANYWAY, SO

HOW’S THAT PLAN WORKING OUT FOR YOU SO FAR DEKU. nice kick, though!!

omggggggg

ouch

update: Deku’s plan not really working out. sources tell me my boy has been fucking shot. this is an ongoing story and we will keep you posted with the latest developments as they come in

wait what

feel free to explain to the rest of us what all of this “UNLESS...” and “THAT POSSIBILITY...” shit means anytime, Deku

oh lol did he realize she could fly??

BREAKING NEWS UPDATE, CNN’s John King reports that Deku is still fucked. eyewitness reports now coming in that Nagant is doing no-look shots and basically not even giving a fuck. sources described her mannerisms and expression as “sexy, but in like an effortless sort of way.” we will continue to bring you the latest

so now there’s basically an entire page of Deku being all “ah fuck so she’s basically closing in and she could already hit me with impossible accuracy even from Far Away, so if that’s the case then her being Up Close is probably going to be even worse!” making good use of that Big Hero Brain there, Deku

so now what, you’re doing some kind of spiraling kick thing?? how is that going to help

oh lol he’s using Smokescreen to create some cover. aww, good for you Deku you named one of your Smokescreen attacks

OH NO LADY DON’T TELL ME AFO DIDN’T EVEN FILL YOU IN ON THE BASICS

seriously, AFO?? you basically told her what Deku’s exact strategy was going to be but then couldn’t be assed to drop that little, small, barely notable piece of knowledge that Deku is rocking multiple quirks?? is it supposed to be a secret or something?? you dropped the ball here man

damn this is getting intense now

(ETA: the way En is poking Deku’s head in that first panel is fucking sending me, I love this guy so much omg.)

well then what are you planning, Deku?? I’m actually really curious!! I am genuinely starting to be invested in this fight scene not only in the “wanting to see who wins and how that impacts the plot” sense, but also in the “wanting to see how it happens because the choreography and strategy is actually pretty cool” sense, which honestly hasn’t happened for quite a while now! this is fun

anyway so what’s up Deku, are you going to use another quirk?? I’ve been speculating that he hasn’t actually unlocked the last two yet (since Two and Three didn’t exactly seem convinced when we last saw them), but maybe I’m about to be proven wrong

(ETA: well he clearly has Three’s obviously, but Two’s is still MIA, and that’s the one I am of course the most curious about. that’s the one we’re all curious about, let’s be real.)

OH SNAP???

AHHHH I’M HYPED LOL. ANOTHER SHINY NEW QUIRK LOL SHOULD I PUT UP THE USUAL DISCOURSE DISCLAIMER

(ETA: so yeah, after thinking on it, I’m not gonna say “please no Deku discourse on my blog” this week, but I probably will ignore any discourse that does come my way though, just because I don’t have much interest in getting involved in what would probably be a pretty repetitive discussion. like, I can just sum up my opinions (which is what they are) here instead. in fact here they are lol:

1) I like the SIXQUIRKS and I like seeing Deku be a badass.

2) I also don’t think Deku is too OP. more like he’s exactly as OP as he needs to be at the moment, given that we’re approaching the end of the series. I expect the other kids will also be pretty damn OP when we see them fight again. we’re just at that point now where they’re all badasses (as well they should be; they’ve grown a lot and they deserve it). it’s just that Deku’s the one we’re getting to see right now.

3) of course I miss Kacchan and the others, but for me this vibes much closer to the MVA arc where even though I missed them, I was still having a blast (as opposed to the dark days of the Basement arc where I was pretty much losing it lol). like, even though Kacchan’s my favorite, I still love Deku a lot and this arc has been amazing for him getting to shine on his own (for like the first time, really).

4) y’all know I love the OFA plot and I’ve never been shy about that lol. I like all of the Vestiges a lot. Banjou and his over the top personality; En and his “guy you thought would be serious and :| all the time but is actually hyper-animated and ALL OVER THE PLACE” energy; Shiro who actually is a :| sort of guy lol; Three who I still expect will be fleshed out in a more detailed flashback at some point; and of course Two, who, well. you know what I think about him lol. Bakuverse is still on the table and I’m still hyped. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that we still have yet to see Two actually talk to Deku (as opposed to talking to the other Vestiges while Deku is distracted). did he lend him his power yet?? or is he still holding out?? either way it’s definitely going to be a Big Thing when it finally happens and I can’t wait to see it.

5) Lady Nagant is Everything and just because Deku grabbed her arm doesn’t mean the fight is over yet lol. Overhaul hasn’t come into play yet either. not to mention that even if the fight is over, the “where do we go from here” part still has me excited either way. her connection to Hawks and the HPSC is very intriguing and we’ve barely touched on that as of yet; she definitely has more of a role to play in this.

6) last but not least, I feel like every week the discussion is all about how much focus Deku’s getting, and how OP he is or isn’t, and OFA this and OFA that, but meanwhile I’m actually so invested in the character development here though?? the way Deku has distanced himself from everyone (except for the Vestiges, because of course they’re already dead so it’s not like they can die again lol)?? the way he’s pushing himself far too hard and we can see the shadows in and under his eyes, and the fact that he never smiles, and even All Might has remarked on how he isn’t taking care of himself at all?? the fact that he’s so single-mindedly obsessed with focused on stopping AFO?? the fact that he’s still the same sweet old Deku despite everything and was so kind to that fox lady with the umbrella, but there was also something so sad about that scene because it felt like a reminder of the type of hero that he wants to be, but that he’s not allowed to be right now?? because the stakes are too high and the world is falling apart?? and he feels like he’s the only one who can do something about it?? and that he has to be?? and that he is putting so much pressure on himself right now, and it’s absolutely too much pressure for any one person to bear, and I feel like no one is fucking talking about this lol goddammit.

anyway so yeah. I have feels about this, and every week that slow-burn angst is getting more and more intense behind the scenes, and I feel like it’s all going to hit a breaking point eventually. sooner rather than later. it really feels like a mirror of Katsuki’s post-Kamino arc. where all that angst was just churning below the surface for like twenty chapters and then it finally was like “okay it’s time” and it all came bursting out and we got the best five chapters of the fucking series (in my admittedly biased estimation lol).

basically, I know that most of fandom is billing this as either the “villain hunt” arc or the “solo Deku SIXQUIRKS fighting arc” or whatever. but for me, it’s always been and still is the Deku Angst arc lol. the cool fights are a sexy bonus (the worldbuilding less so because even though it’s interesting to see society at such a low point, it’s also very depressing and gets old pretty fast), but for me the thing that’s really keeping me engaged chapter after chapter is seeing Deku like we’ve never seen him before. seeing him all quiet and withdrawn and brooding and focused on AFO, AFO, AFO, and seeing that “he just doesn’t take himself into account” mentality taken to extremes. I am invested in that. I’m soaking up that angst each and every week, and I’m invested in seeing what comes of it. it’s a big picture thing. week to week this arc might just seem like a bunch of villain fight scenes, sure. but Deku’s emotional journey is the thread that’s going to carry this arc through from beginning to end, and for that I’m willing to be patient.

anyway that turned into a BIG OL’ RANT there but yeah! so those are my thoughts on the disk horse as it currently stands. and like I said, I’m open to discussion, but tbh I will probably just wind up repeating these same talking points endlessly so just a fair warning lol.)

anyway so Three says Deku has yet to use his quirk at ALL but now he’s trying to combine it with another quirk?? damn. also please check out En’s face here you guys

En launching a sneak attack up my favorite character list by the sheer power of his expressions alone. he really knows how to make the most of his screentime

OH DAMN DEKU

at this point the 3% from that hypothetical poll earlier are starting to feel prettttty damn smug, I’ll bet. well shit

what in the fuck

?? so like releasing his chi or whatnot?? isn’t that basically just like base OFA all over again?? also Deku did you seriously just apologize to Gran’s cape

update: Nagant has turned her eyeball into a gun

hm. hmmmmmmm. ...okay yep, still somehow sexy

anyway so she’s just floating up there building suspense, as one does. lord I sure hope she has good reflexes because something tells me she’s going to need them

OH SNAP HE THREW GRAN’S CAPE AS A DECOY WHAAAAT OKAY THAT’S SOME SMART SHIT DEKU

LOL SHE’S MAD NOW

JESUS CHRIST SHE JUST NEVER TAKES A GODDAMN BREAK FROM BEING AWESOME HUH

DEKU ARE YOU JUST THROWING EVERY DAMN THING IN YOUR INVENTORY

but without the cape and the hood how will you continue to look like an enigmatic badass. you really can’t. which means we might finally be moving on from the wandering nomad part of this arc, stay tuned

LOL YOU MANIAC

I hope he went full Kacchan with the dialogue there. his face sure looks like it lol. popped out of a building all mad fdskljlkj omg

well this was fun, shit. I still have basically no idea what Three’s quirk does though lol. like, can he use it to charge up objects with kinetic energy or something?? but then what was all of that talk about combining it with one of the other quirks?? or was that just because he was using Smokescreen at the same time??

(ETA: having seen and read an additional half-dozen explanations of Three’s quirk, I can say with confidence that I still have basically no idea what it is or does.)

anyway so!! Deku is a badasssssss but something tells me not to count Nagant out just yet even so. also I really enjoy seeing Deku flip out on people like he doesn’t have a fucking hole in his torso because it reminds me of A CERTAIN SOMEONE and I always love to see him channeling that feral energy; I feel like it’s been a while

anyways good luck to you both!! I truly wish that both of you could win. but if not, then maybe you can at least become friends instead. you have so much in common, you both can fly and have multiple quirks and you’re both badasses, and plus it would just be really funny to see the look on Hawks’s face lmao

[pinkoptics]

Cherik ‘Fallen Angel’ Fic

Part 2 (of Chapter 1)

Find Part 1 (of Chapter 1) here.

Charles is an angel. He loves Erik. He saves Erik. God takes issue with that. Hilarity and adorableness (with a smidge of angst) ensues. In this part, protective!Erik makes an appearance at the hospital.

*

“I don’t know what his last name is!” Erik growled at the nurse, just barely managing to hold back the ‘fucks’ he wanted to pepper the sentence with. “I wasn’t exactly trying to get all of his info while he was bleeding to death on me.”

Erik released them in his mind— Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. She’s just doing her job. She’s just doing her job. Don’t strangle her with metal.

“I told you,” Erik gritted his teeth and repeated a variation of the same combination of sentences he had already uttered twice. “I was crossing the street. The car barrelled through the red light. He jumped in and saved my life. I tried to return the favour. His name is Charles. He’s cute. I promised to take him to dinner. That’s all I know and that’s as far as we got before he passed out.”

How was Charles? Was he okay?

It didn’t seem like he could be. It had looked like so much fucking blood. The utterly insane things the man had said (“You should know you’re beautiful. Before I leave this mortal realm, I want you to know that”). Those spectacularly bright blue eyes fading to a frightening dullness. Not that Erik knew anything about anything medical, but none of that had seemed promising. So, not only was this nurse annoying as all fuck, she was stonewalling him. They wouldn’t tell him a goddamned thing because he wasn’t Charles’ next of kin. No one, in fact, knew if he had any next of kin in New York because he didn’t have a wallet, ID or phone on him. This was why the nurse was presently grilling him for information he did. not. have. They hadn’t let him ride in the ambulance, so he’d taken a cab and prayed that the ambulance had made a hell of a lot better time than he had. The only reason they were talking to him at all was because he had been there, had a name, a first name, and that was it.

The swinging doors opened and a woman in scrubs emerged. Erik nearly lunged.

“Are you Erik?”

“Yes.”

“He’s asking for you. I don’t want to let you in at all, but I don’t think we’re going to be able to start anything beyond emergency treatment until he talks to you.”

Asking meant conscious. Living. Thank fuck. The relief was powerful and nearly knocked him on his ass. Later, when he wasn’t teeming with barely contained frustration, and desperately trying to ascertain just how okay Charles was or wasn’t, he might spare a moment to think about how unexpected it was to be so powerfully moved by a stranger (a cute stranger who’d saved his life, granted), but not now.

“How is he?”

“He lost some blood, will need stitches on his arm and he has a few fractured ribs, but he’s stable. He’s going to be fine. After he stops trying to get out of bed to talk to you, we might actually be able to treat those things with something other than bandages.”

If Erik had thought the first wave of relief was powerful, he was not prepared at all for the second.

She sighed deeply and gestured to the double doors from which she had emerged. “This way.”

He followed her a short way down the hall, nearly stepping on her heels each step of the way. She stopped so abruptly before they entered the room that Erik nearly ran straight into her back.

“I should warn you that he’s... well, you’ve both been through a trauma. The mind processes such things in all sorts of ways. If he doesn’t seem... ‘all there’ don’t be overly concerned. Play along, don’t distress him further.”

Charles certainly hadn’t been ‘all there’ at the scene of the accident. His bizarre last words kept spinning through Erik’s head at random intervals— you are so loved. On their own, they were strange enough, but the reverence of Charles’ tone had sunk the words into Erik’s bones like a telepath projecting the emotion behind what they were saying. He hadn’t heard the words, he’d felt the words. Even if Charles was a telepath, it didn’t make them make anymore sense. More forthcoming then... he nodded at the doctor.

“You’re here!” Charles beamed at him from his sitting position on the hospital bed, looking much happier than anyone had any right to be in his situation. “And, you look well. Are you well?”

Charles did too, relatively speaking. He was a little pale, a little bruised but nowhere close to as bad as Erik had expected. Though the car had clipped him as he’d tackled Erik out of the way, it seemed to have been a case of looking much worse than it was at the scene. Small miracles.

“I’m fine.” Fine enough, at any rate. Like Charles, he was understandably bruised, and it was probably going to hurt more in the morning, but his suit had taken the harder beating. Between contact with the pavement and Charles’ blood, there would be no saving it, not that that mattered in the slightest. “You’re the one who was bleeding out all over me. How are you?”

Erik was sitting at his bedside now, the doctor presumably hovering in the background for all Erik’s attention was on Charles. The man in question blinked, cocking his head slightly to the side and giving Erik’s question a more thorough consideration than Erik would have thought necessary.

“I really don’t know,” he finally answered. Charles stretched his injured arm out in front of him, now bandaged (if not stitched) and looked at it with a plainly perplexed expression. “I’ve never been hurt before you know. It’s curious... interesting, but I don’t at all recommend it.”

“You were hit by a car.” Erik couldn’t help but be amused. Perplexed Charles was endearing. “Not something that happens to a person every day.”

“Quite.” Charles conceded the point. He went from staring at his arm to deliberately poking his own rib cage, and subsequently wincing. “You’re all very fragile, you know. So much could kill you every single minute of your life and yet so many of you manage to survive until old age. How do you do it? I’ve only just arrived and I’ve already nearly died.”

He turned his focus from his ribs to Erik and genuinely looked as though he were waiting for a response. Erik opened his mouth and then closed it. Despite the doctor’s suggestion to ‘play along’ he didn’t have one. Erik decided to change course.

“The hospital needs your personal information— last name, address, insurance.”

“Oh, well, that’s easy enough. I don’t have a last name. Just Charles. Or an address for that matter. I feel it’s unlikely my former profession came with any benefits.” Charles suddenly laughed. “That’s not true. It absolutely had many benefits, but certainly not State Farm. Besides, I’m no longer working for Him.”

The emphasis on the last word was... odd. Was Erik supposed to know who he was?

“I was... goodness. I was fired I suppose. Fired. That means I’m—I’m unemployed. For the first time in a millennia, I’m... on the pogey!” He laughed a little harder, the edge of hysteria he’d had at the scene worming its way back in. “Wait, no, you don’t say that anymore, do you?”

Pogey?

“Oh you look so confused. I apologize. It’s a Canadian phrase come to think. Or it used to be, a century ago.”

Shit.

Had Charles hit his head? Was this some kind of bizarre amnesia? The doctor hadn’t mentioned either possibility but... Erik side-stepped again.“How about family? Is there someone I can call and let them know you’re here? Maybe they can provide your information?”

The shift in Charles’ expression and demeanour was so abrupt and dramatic that Erik’s gut clenched. The stunning blue eyes that had stared up at him with such naked concern and relief, took on an unmistakable sheen. The wetness made them impossibly bluer, an unnatural colour that was as striking as it was otherworldly. The tears did not fall, yet Erik somehow knew that Charles would cry beautifully if they did. Erik somehow also knew what the response was going to be before he uttered it.

“No. There is no one. Not anymore.”

Erik surprised himself by doing something he would normally never do, under any circumstance, even with someone he knew well, let alone someone he had just met. He reached out and took Charles’ hand, squeezing it gently. His was a pain Erik was all too familiar with.

“It’s all right. We’ll... we’ll figure this out. You’re Charles. You saved my life. You have me. That’s all we need to know right now. Don’t worry about the insurance or anything else.”

Charles stopped staring out into the middle-distance and focused on Erik. “Truly, you don’t owe me anything.”

Erik snorted. “The hell I don’t. Besides, we’ve got to get you healed up. I can’t take you to the diner in this state. We’ve got date, remember? So there you are. Here you think I’m indebted, but really my reasons are purely selfish. You’re hot and I want to date you. Humour me.”

The wetness retreated and that red mouth quirked up into a small smile.

“As long as you’re being self-centred.”

“Oh, trust me, I am.”

Somewhere behind them, someone cleared their throat. Erik turned. Oh, right, the doctor. “As much as I would love to watch the two of you keep flirting, we need to take care of those injuries.”

She was right, so Erik reluctantly stood and even more reluctantly released Charles’ hand.

“I’ll be back later, so stop trying to leave and let them take care of you, all right?”

Charles nodded. “If you insist.”

“I do.”

Erik forced himself to turn and exit the room. Only after he’d left it, did he truly exhale. Charles was okay. Charles was okay. Charles was flirting even... well, possibly. They were still on for that date. Erik took a few much needed breaths and strode more determinedly, and much less frantically, back toward the nurses’ desk. He would take care of this.

He would take care of Charles.

*

Thanks for reading 😊. I really hope inspiration continues to strike because I’ve had a lot of fun with this thus far.

On to chapter 2 part 1

[sidespromptblog]

Not Sure

Summary: Tim isn’t sure what he’s doing right now, barely able to stand with the aid of his crutches and the pain of his broken leg set in a cast as he stares down at the unbreathing unmoving body of his boss. His boss… Jon…. Jon, looks dead.

Warnings: Hospital scene, mentions of injuries, and general magnus archives stuff.

Word Count: 1396

AO3 LINK

Tim isn’t sure what he’s doing right now, barely able to stand with the aid of his crutches and the pain of his broken leg set in a cast as he stares down at the unbreathing unmoving body of his boss. 

His boss… Jon…. Jon, looks dead.

He had looked dead when they had loaded him into the ambulance, his face so pale that it looked like they had drained all of the blood out of him and had forgotten to put it back. The starkness of it had surprised him the first time he had seen it, it had more than surprised him actually. The first time that he had seen Jon’s lifeless body, he had been sure that he was dead. Everything had been a blur really, if he’s being honest with himself. 

But he remembers looking at Jon, back when they had been sharing a hospital room. 

And he remembers screaming, that part he definitely remembers.

He remembers the screaming, the howl of pain digging its way up through his chest and lacerating his vocal cords even more than before. He remembered fighting against the hospital staff, with dozens of hands trying to force him back down onto the bed and actually keep him there before he could strain his dislocated shoulder back out of place. He remembers the injection that his screaming earned him, and he remembers his head solidly thumping against the flat hospital pillow and his last sight of consciousness being Jon’s face as everything else faded around him into pitch-black darkness. 

They called it a coma apparently, as if someone not breathing or moving was called a coma and not someone being fucking dead. 

He had brain movement though, one of the nurses had told him sympathetically after he had woken up. He wasn’t brain dead, and the institute was paying good money to keep him on life support. 

Tim was fairly certain that had it been him on that bed instead of Jon, Elias himself would have skipped down to the hospital to pull the plug himself. But even so, that didn’t make it any easier to see Jon like this. In fact, it made it harder.

The uncertainty of whether or not he’d pull through, or if he’d die like this… hooked up to a hundred machines with his loved ones all piling through at random intervals of the day. 

He’d seen Martin stop by more than once, a look of utter heartbreak and sadness that seemed too commonplace on the kind gentle man’s face. 

Martin could do better than Jon…

When he had been released from the hospital, a part of him didn’t want to leave. He had been in there for two weeks, whereas Jon had yet to leave let alone wake up or show any signs of life. If felt… well it felt almost unfair if Tim was being honest. The last words that he had spoken to Jon burned on his tongue like a hot iron ball that had been forced into his mouth. What he had said was true, he didn’t forgive Jon. The paranoid man had burned so many bridges when it had come to suspecting them for something that they obviously wouldn’t have done, let alone the freaky power that he had been unearthing with Elias’ supervision. 

But…

If Jon died, if he died then Tim’s last words would be him declaring that he would never forgive him. He’d have to live with that, and…

And if Jon lived, then maybe… maybe something could be done. 

He was tired of being kept in the dark, of being used, of having his friends replaced and him not know a single thing about it, of… of the knowledge that he could be replaced and those closest to him, would never even know. 

Just like Sasha had been. 

So he stood there on his crutches and his leg propped up to alleviate the pain, a part of him didn’t even know what he was really doing there. 

He shouldn’t have been back, now that Elias had been imprisoned there was more and more that needed to be done around the institute and the new head of it… this Peter Lukas, wasn’t exactly going to take slacking off the same as Elias was. The disappearance of Rosie and David told him that well enough, so.. he didn’t know why he was here, although to be fair he didn’t exactly know why a lot of things that were happening were happening. 

A part of him wanted to be angry staring down at Jon, to have that blistering rage that he had held onto before their mission to come back just so that he could dismiss Jon again and never have to talk to him. He wanted the rush of power that had come with talking back to Nikolai and completely destroying any semblance of a ritual, the feeling that he’d had when he’d held the detonator in his hands. But after all of that… after everything that he and the others had been through, and staring down at his boss at Jon…

He just felt helpless.

Like watching his brother get taken away from him all over again. 

His leg throbbed at the memory of it, “J..Jon…” He slowly began, not entirely sure what to say. 

In all of the time that he had shared the hospital room with him, and even after he had left, he’d never spoken to Jon’s body. Not like Martin had, all tears and cold sorrow that had begun to replace the warmth that Martin always gave so freely. Not like Georgie, Jon’s ex who came almost as routinely as Martin did, if not more so. And definitely not like Basira, with her sharp stares that told Tim that the moment that Jon woke up… he wasn’t going to like it. 

He hadn’t said a word to him. 

Readjusting how he was standing, Tim fixed Jon’s lifeless body with a stubborn and determined stare. “Jon,” He said with more vigor and emotion than he actually felt at the moment. “You had better come back, do you understand?” He was way past waiting for a response as he carried on. “You’re making Martin sad, he’s been drinking coffee now because of this. You know how he feels about coffee, so stop doing this.. come back so...so…” And now words failed him once more, what was he supposed to say? He hadn’t expected to come back from this, he had thought that he was going to die in that explosion and that would be the end of that. 

But it wasn’t.

It never was. 

“I listened to your tape,” Tim finally said, eventually sitting down once it became very obvious that he wasn’t going to have a two-sided conversation. “The one that you made before you.. before we left to stop The Unknowing.” A tiny crack of a smile wormed its way onto his face. “I didn’t know that you could be so sappy boss man, not that.. not that you ever expected anyone to hear those I’m sure.” He paused, taking in the unmovingness of Jon’s chest, it was just like talking to a corpse. And something in his chest lurched at the thought, of having to put Jon in a coffin and actually bury him with a tombstone and everything. He didn’t like it. “If you come back.. if you come back from this… I want you to know that I don’t hate you. It will be a long time before I can forgive you… let alone trust you again. But…” Tim’s hand jerked forward, as he statically patted Jon’s icy cold shoulder that felt like solid marble. “I’d like to be able to in the future, if you really want to change like you said you did in your tape. I want to.” 

Nothing.

Not a single sound or peep came from the bedridden man, not that Tim had expected anything to happen. 

But he did feel better, seeing him… talking to him even if he couldn’t answer back. 

Martin had been right. 

The pain in his leg seemed dulled slightly as he clambered up from the chair, and made his way out of the hospital room and the hospital itself.

One week later, Jon wakes up.

[turning-the-frigging-frogs-gay]

Underneath The Spotlight- A Sanders Sides Fic

Chapter 8- Dreaming of Dancing with You

Read chapter one here!

Read here on ao3!!

Warnings for this chapter: low self esteem, kissing

A/N: this chapter is long because it covers a lot of stuff... now that I think about it I probably should have put this into two separate chapters, but oh well! This’ll probably be the longest chapter in the whole fic, so enjoy! And buckle up, because like I said, a lot of stuff goes down in this one

Also look what I learnt how to do!!

Dance shows were somewhat of a whirlwind of glitter and makeup for Roman. It was hard to find a minute to collect his thoughts in the midst of this hurricane in which he could somehow find a rhythm. It went a little something like this: dance your heart out onstage, get changed at near impossible speed, repeat. That wasn’t to imply, however, that he didn’t love every second of it. To him, dance was far more than just a hobby. It was a passion, a part of him- every time he went up on that stage he felt like his destiny was calling him, and only by going out there, dancing to the very best of his ability and having the time of his goddamn life could he truly fulfil it. He had no doubts about the fact that a career in professional dance was the right path for him. Dance had brought him so many amazing things- priceless memories that would last a lifetime, a medium in which to express himself, a circle of friends for whom he would do just about anything, and... the chance to fall in love with the only other dancer who rivalled his technical precision. Logan Berry, Roman couldn’t think of him without swooning a little. He was head over heels for the stoic boy- Logan’s dancing was perfect on every level, and his personality had a charm that Roman could only describe as irresistible. So many times, Roman had missed his cue or forgotten steps due to being distracted by gazing at Logan. So many times, Roman had been overcome with joy at being partnered with him and looked forward to every ballroom rehearsal for the chance to waltz his adorable nerd around the studio. So many times, Roman had wanted to tell his dance partner how he truly felt, but had become too nervous at the last minute. He’d been practically heartbroken a few hours ago when Logan had confessed all those insecurities to him- how could someone so perfect think so little of himself? But Roman couldn’t afford to let his feelings distract him at a time like this. After enjoying performing the ballroom routine with Logan one last time, he had another dance swiftly afterwards and had to be ready quickly. No room to be thinking about anything else. Dance, change costume, repeat.

After the ballroom number, Logan decided to take a short break and stand outside the dressing room for a while. Waltzing with Roman on the stage, with all the lights and the music and the romantic atmosphere had made him a little emotional. Logan was not an expert in feelings but he did know that he liked Roman a whole lot. He was an amazing dancer, and charismatic enough to sweep anyone off their feet. But, for the past few years, Logan had been lucky enough for it to be him. He doubted Roman could ever feel the same- why would someone as popular and charming as Roman ever like someone as nerdy and awkward as him? He just thanked his lucky stars that he got to experience dancing with Roman, hoped that his fortune would continue, and that they’d be partnered together again, and never expected anything more to happen between them.

Just at that moment, Roman himself came stumbling out of the dressing room corridor, already wearing his next costume... or just about. Logan noticed immediately that his laces were untied. As Roman began descending the small staircase that Logan was at the bottom of, he immediately tripped over his lace and came falling down. Luckily, Logan had unnaturally quick reflexes and was able to run towards the stairs and catch his prince. Roman instinctively wrapped his arms around Logan’s back to support himself, their faces were suddenly extremely close together. Logan felt the heat rise to his as he saw Roman blush as well. He did his best not to cringe at the awkwardness.

“I- I- Ro-“ he stammered, hardly able to form words. He was carrying Roman Kingsley. Perfect, handsome, charming Roman Kingsley was in his arms, staring right into his eyes. Logan, what are you doing, kiss him you idiot! Without even thinking about it, Logan leaned in and kissed Roman on the lips. He pulled back almost immediately, what on Earth had he been thinking?! He placed the other back onto the ground, regret washing over him like a tidal wave.

“Roman, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to-“

Roman placed a hand firmly on Logan’s shoulder.

“Logan. It’s fine. Trust me, it’s absolutely fine. In fact, it’s way more than fine...”

Logan’s breath hitched in shock.

“Wha... you... like me back?” he said, barely audible.

“You like me?!” Roman said, much louder, forgetting to control his volume in his shock.

“Would you keep your voice down?!” Logan hissed.

“Sorry...” Roman said.

“So, let us review,” said Logan. “I like you. A lot.”

“And I like you a lot too,” Roman said, looking down and smiling sheepishly.

“So... do you want to be... you know...”

Roman lovingly placed a finger on Logan’s lip, smiling that wonderful smile of his.

“I do, Logan. I really do.”

This intimate moment between them was abruptly interrupted as the door that led to backstage was flung open to reveal Mr Picani, looking panicked.

“There you are, Roman!” he almost shouted, now looking visibly relieved at the sight of the school’s best dancer. “What have you been doing?! You’re on in like twenty seconds, come on over here!”

“Oh, right!” Roman said, running to take his place in the wings.

Logan sighed fondly. “Tie your shoes before you go on stage!” he shouted after his... boyfriend?

“Thanks, Logan!” Roman shouted back. Logan could barely believe what had just happened, but he still couldn’t stop himself from staring after Roman, grinning like an idiot. Yep, he was the luckiest guy in the whole world...

Logan stayed in the same spot until Roman returned from his dance, unable to wait to talk to him again. He came back towards Logan, smiling brightly.

“How did it go?” Logan asked.

“Brilliant!” Roman said. “I honestly couldn’t stop smiling...” he admitted shyly.

Logan blushed a little as Roman took his arm.

“Shall we go?” he asked.

Logan sighed. “Dork.”

“Nerd.”

“Prep.”

“Oh, come on, you love me.”

“You’re... not exactly wrong there.”

Roman blushed furiously at hearing that for the first time. “I love you too, Logan.”

However, although they might have thought so, the shocking developments of the day were not over for Logan and Roman. As soon as they arrived in the dressing room, they saw Patton perched in Janus’ lap as the latter played with the smaller boy’s hair, both of them already in their ballet costumes. The taller boys’ mouths gaped open in surprise. It seemed they weren’t the only ones to realise their feelings for each other during the show. When they saw the other two enter, Patton and Janus both immediately sprang up.

“It’s not what it looks like!” Janus cried out.

“Ye-yeah! W-we, uh, we w-were j-just!” Patton stammered, desperately looking to Janus for help.

“Umm... I was parting Patton’s hair into position for the ballet dance?” Janus said, giving the best excuse he could think of on the spot.

“That still doesn’t explain why he was in your lap,” Logan deadpanned.

“I... um... we... uh... I...” Patton trailed off, completely at a loss for words. “Janus, I don’t think there’s any getting out of this,” he sighed.

“What? Guys, what’s going on?” Roman asked.

“Alright, alright,” Janus sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You’re right, Pat, I don’t think there’s any way we can lie about this now. So Logan, Roman- here’s the truth. I’ve been in love with Patton for months. I kissed him and confessed my feelings after the ballroom dance earlier.”

Patton walked back towards him, leaning into his boyfriend as Janus put his arm around him. “And I told him I loved him too!” Patton said through his giggles. “Because I do... a whole lot.”

“Oh my gosh, guys, that’s so sweet,” Roman said, overwhelmingly happy and excited for his two friends. “This is just awesome news And, speaking of!” he continued, unable to wait to share his news with his two closest friends. “Logan and I... are actually dating too now!”

“Roman!” Logan spluttered, quickly turning bright red.

“Oh gosh sorry, I didn’t realise we weren’t telling people...” Roman said. “Jeez, I’m so sorry Lo...” he hid his head in his hands.

Logan sighed. “It is... alright, Roman. Although, Janus and Patton, I would appreciate it if we could keep this between us for the time being.”

“Your secret’s safe with me,” Janus assured him.

“Of course. And congratulations, guys!” Patton chirped.

After the conversation subsided, Patton returned to Janus’ lap, and the other two sat down with Logan’s head resting on Roman’s shoulder. It was a good few minutes until someone spoke up again.

“Hey, where are Remus and Virgil?” Roman asked.

“Oh, they went to the foyer to get some snacks before the audience go and buy them all in the interval,” Janus stated.

“If I am correct, we were explicitly told by the teachers that we aren’t allowed to do that,” Logan said.

“Yeah, Remus knows that,” Roman said. “Not that he really cares...”

Patton looked slightly confused. “Shouldn’t they be back by-“

“What the hell is going on here?!” Remus said, as he and Virgil burst through the door of the dressing room, each carrying an armful of snacks.

“As if on cue,” Janus said sarcastically, as neither Patton nor the other two made any attempt to cover up what was going on.

“What the heck did we miss?!” Virgil said.

“Yeah!” said Remus. “We seem to have missed the memo on your random impromptu cuddle party or whatever the hell this is! I’m assuming that’s all that’s going on here...” he looked suspiciously at them.

The two couples looked at each other in silent agreement, knowing that, from now on, if they truly wanted this to be a secret, they’d have to be more careful.

“No... that’s not all that’s going on here,” Logan spoke up. “Roman and I... we’re together now.”

“And so are me and Patton,” said Janus.

“Surprise!” Roman said weakly, while doing jazz hands.

“Jeez, not quite what I expected but I can’t say I’m surprised,” Remus said. “Like Ro, I’ve known about your crush on Lo for ages even though you didn’t tell me. And Patton, how could you not have noticed the way Jan Jan looks at you?”

The four of them blushed furiously. Virgil was still unable to speak as his eyes bulged in shock at the news.

“You ok, Virge?” Patton asked, tilting his head in concern.

“Yeah, I’m good, just a little surprised I guess...”

“Whoa whoa whoa, hold up a second!” Remus interrupted, sounding as if he’d just been struck by a genius idea. “So Pat and Janus are together, and you two nerds are also together... meaning me and Virge are the only two left over...” he finger-gunned towards Virgil, grinning in a way that was half-cunning, half-flirtatious.

Virgil began to laugh nervously.

“Stop right there, garbage man, I can see where this is going, and, let me tell ya, it’s not gonna-“

“Oh, come on, Virge, would it really be that bad?! I... I like you a lot, and if you want to, I’d love to give us a try...” he admitted, not caring that he was in front of everyone although going a little quiet at the end.

Virgil backed away, holding his hands up in defence, his nervous laughter intensifying.

“No, I really don’t think so,” he said, exiting the dressing room and seemingly going for a walk down the corridor.

Remus sank down into a chair, looking deflated.

“We’re sorry, Remus...” Patton said.

“Nah, it’s fine, if he didn’t want to then that’s that. I don’t even know, I suppose I liked him for a while, just never fully realised it until now,” Remus admitted- being completely open and honest about his feelings was one of his strengths.

“Sometimes love works like that,” Roman mused.

Suddenly, Virgil came stomping back into the room, keeping his gaze towards the floor. All eyes were on him as they awaited whatever he was going to say.

“... you know what, fine,” he blurted out, still refusing to meet the eyes of the others. “Remus, I like you a lot too, I got a little overwhelmed just then but I really think I do wanna try dating you, and I’m just telling you all of this now before my anxiety can try to stop me.” He finally worked up the courage to look at Remus, whose face was breaking out into a bright grin.

“Virge, I’m so happy!” he said, letting his anxious now-boyfriend lean into him as he placed his arm around Virgil, once again reassuring him that everything was okay. He sighed and pouted a little.

“Don’t make me regret this, trash man.”

For the next few minutes, before having to get properly ready for the ballet routine, all six of them sat, talked and enjoyed the moment of calm while it lasted. They counted themselves as the luckiest people in the whole world, to have the chance to dance and perform, to have met such amazing friends through what had become so much more than just a hobby, and even to each fall in love with one of their fellow dancers, and realise these feelings in one of the most romantic settings possible- waltzing together on a grand stage. Despite the hundreds of people that had been watching them, Janus and Patton, Roman and Logan, Virgil and Remus- they only had eyes for each other...

A/N: all the ships are finally sailing! Hope it was worth it

Taglist: @sophiexwrites once again thank you so much for reading this and always leaving such sweet comments!

Next chapter

[queen-of-my-goofball-army]

Fruits Basket HCs

If you haven’t been able to tell from my blog, I REALLY love Fruits Basket. I have this immense love for these characters and I want to share the different headcanons that I have for each of these fantastic characters. I’m going to cover a lot of ground so I apologize if this becomes really long. To make this easier for myself this first part is just going to be my six favorite characters (Momiji, Tohru, Kyo, Kakeru, Hatori and Hatsuharu).

Momiji: 

* The mental health side of things for Momiji is that in my non-professional medical opinion (to quote the original show) he has really high levels of ADHD. He learned to combat this by taking gymnastics lessons as a young boy while everyone else was doing karate he was learning to be bouncing ball. 

*This one is a pretty much canon one but I love this idea; Momiji is genderfluid. I love the idea of Momiji hanging around Ritsu and learning about fashion from them. I also just really love the idea of Momiji in a cute little skirt with shorts underneath (don’t judge me I just really love the idea of it.) 

*Number one touchy friend!! He’s constantly a ball of energy and will hug and cling to all of his friends if they indulge him. He loves affection both giving it and receiving it.  

*He is surprisingly a really good baker!! I love the idea of him making friendship cupcakes for Tohru after everything happened just to thank her for all her help (She wouldn’t accept them but offer to share them with him instead.) 

*He learned violin from Ayame. I like to think that out of all the Sohma’s he is the most musically inclined. If you want to learn how to play an instrument go to Aya he’ll help you out fam. 

*How he learned German and started using that as his main language was in elementary school right after what happened with his mom happened (I’m trying to keep this as non-spoilery as possible so that my friends can read this too). He wanted something that reminded him of her but wasn’t painful. So he decided to learn another language and Hatori helped him. 

*He is probably one of the most likely to spoil his future children. He’ll give them the childhood that he was never technically given. If those children wanted something they were going to get it whether or not it was their birthday they want it. Plus he has the money to get them whatever they want!! 

Tohru: 

*So space cadet Tohru is canon and I am of the personal belief that a little bit of ADD which is why she always needs Yuki’s help with school. Most of these HCs are going to be a little bit mental health related mostly because that’s how I see them. 

*If Tohru had the ability to go to college it would be to become a professional chef. She loves cooking for other people and making people happy. Professional chefs to me are the types of people that love to make others happy which is why she cooks for others. 

*She is definitely the hug friend. What is the hug friend you may ask? It is a person that can give the best hugs. She is constantly getting hugs from Uo-chan and Hana-chan and to me she just seems the type that would give the best hugs in the entire world. 

*She has always been interested in being in a relationship someday. When she was little she loved Disney movies and would fantasize about one day finding her own personal Prince Charming. 

*At first in dating Kyo, Tohru gets flustered by EVERYTHING. This poor girl is always blushing around the love of her life. 

*Her favorite subject in school will always be cooking but she is surprisingly good at history!! She loves learning about the past mostly because she is one of the few people that found it interesting. 

*As a mom she is the most doting parent, the type that kids get embarrassed by at sleepovers. 

Kyo: 

*My first HC for our favorite cat boi is that he has autism. Hear me out, when I was in middle school I struggled immensely when it came to relating to people and understanding how they felt. I had undiagnosed aspergers at the time and found that he was one of the few characters that wanted to be better at dealing with his emotions and people. Having that relatability now that I’m older has been a huge help. 

*The most surprising HC that I have about Kyo is that he loves to write. Usually it’s just little things that irritate him throughout the day. It’s how he learned to officially get his anger calmed down so that he wouldn’t yell anymore once Hajime and his kids were born. 

*As a kid Kyo never had ice cream. It’s the same thing with the pancakes where he had never had sweets that wasn’t fruit. Tohru is appalled by this and one of their first dates was to get him to try ice cream (his favorite is mint chocolate chip) 

*Growing up he was alone a lot but I think that he would find companionship in books and literature. I feel like he’d be really good at school like in the original where we see him pouring over books to study. (The best way to get him to do well is of course a little competition.) 

*Kyo is a hella overprotective dad once his kids are born. This is obvious but if he has any daughters those future boyfriends, run just run. 

*Once the curse is broken he is constantly trying to make up for the years where he wasn’t able to get physical affection. After he gets over his own flustered tsundere habits with Tohru they became easily the closest couple. He finds that he loves having his hair pet (if he purrs he’ll deny it until the end of time)  

*I think that out of all my favorites Kyo would be the best listener. You got a problem, no matter how stupid it is, Kyo will do his damndest to help you out. That’s just who he is especially when it comes to those he loves. 

Kakeru: 

*Kakeru’s mental health theory is that he has ADHD just like Momiji combined with dyslexia so he sometimes has a hard time reading things and needs help understanding what exactly he’s looking at for homework. 

*Him and Kimi always start prank wars that could go on FOREVER. If nobody stops them they can just go at each other for days. Eventually either Yuki or Machi will get too exhausted of their antics and force them to stop. These prank wars usually happen about once a month on the second week. They all fear this time of the month and whenever it happens it usually lasts for about three days. 

*Definite anime lover this boi!! He grew up watching the classics and it’s just something that stuck with him. 

*Before he became chaotic Kakeru TM he always hid this part of his personality but now that he’s older he is very open about his love for anime. 

*He wasn’t close to Machi until after she was kicked out of the family house. Before then he was almost indifferent towards her existence but when that happened he realized that he wanted to make her feel better whether she wanted it or not. 

*He is the best cuddler fight me on this. I feel like once you got him calmed down he would always be down for cuddling his S\O. 

*This one is pretty common amongst the fandom judging by how many people ship him with Yuki but I think that he’s not bisexual he’s pansexual he just loves people!! 

Hatori: 

*I don’t have a mental health HC for Hatori really other than PTSD (which let’s face it almost all of this cast of characters has.) 

*Before he met Kana he knew next to nothing about popular culture. His music taste was stuck in the 50′s and to her that was an absolute travesty!! Who hadn’t heard of Queen, Elton John or David Bowie?! She made it her goal to get him into modern things so that he could understand her. At the time he didn’t really understand a lot of the things that she liked. However, once she left him he learned to appreciate modern music and film. 

*Something that I really love about Hatori is the thought that he would be a fan of musical theater. It’s something that not a whole lot of people know mainly Shigure and Ayame and Aya always gets him tickets when a show he likes comes to town. 

*He can’t cook to save his life!! Literally the type of person that would somehow burn water and he doesn’t have the time to cook everyday but usually Momiji will bring him food that he makes. 

*Definitely a romantic at heart no matter how much the idea of love has hurt him in the past. He loves making Mayu happy at random intervals. From buying her random bouquets of flowers to planning things on a larger scale he just loves making her happy. 

*As a parent he’s the type to definitely be overprotective especially when they aren’t feeling well. His kid fainted at school? He’s already there trying to find out what went wrong and keep them at home with him for a few days until they get Dr. Tori’s clean bill of health. 

*As much as he bitches and moans about Ayame and Shigure’s annoying tendencies he couldn’t ask for two better best friends. \

Hatsuharu: 

*Mental health HC is that he’s bipolar thanks to the other dark personality even though most of the time he’s white it’s something that after everything happens Hatori insists he gets an official diagnosis of. 

*He loves grunge rock. The first time he discovered Nirvana Kurt Cobain became his instant hero. Not a way to live his life but someone that he was inspired by. His second favorite band is All Time Low (I’ve never heard any of their stuff this one is for my best friend who is an absolute Haru-stan) 

*He got his tattoo as his own way of rebelling against his family order. I think that his parents (we only really ever hear of his mom) being strict on him. That’s where the multiple piercings came from as well. Whenever he would hit a low point before middle school he would get a new one. 

*He is actually a really good cook and entirely capable of taking care of himself since his parents are often too busy for him. 

*He got into gaming by accidentally seeing Shigure playing a dating sim (Fight me on this one I dare you say that Shigure the pervy bastard doesn’t play these things) 

*He is definitely the romantic type as we see him bringing Rin flowers to cheer her up. He might be a little bit stiff at first and awkward but once he gets used to the person you bet your ass he’ll just cling to you as we see with Yuki much to his everlasting annoyance. 

*He’s an amazing artist!! He loves to draw just about anything that he can get his hands on. It’s something that he does now when he hits a low point instead of wrecking things he learned the proper way of coping with his problems. 

Whew!! Sorry about the length on this guy but I really wanted to do this while waiting for the dub to catch up. I will make more if people want more of them!! 

[wanderingdragoon]

Answering These Myself~!

Ask a question, any question! Because I have nothing better to do than to answer your questions. … No, really. I don’t. D:

1: What does their bedroom look like?

Aric’s room tends to be pretty sparse, not because of being clean, but simply because he likes to travel lightly. His few items are more or less strewn in a pile, his lance nearby.

2: Do they have any daily rituals?

Aric tends to wrap his lance daily, unwrapping it late at night before bed, to check for damage. He leaves the binding for the morning, so he can check for any damage or change in the material.

3: Do they exercise, and if so, what do they do? How often?

He’s pretty lazy, but he does prefer to walk on his own, so he’s constantly keeping fit with his wandering between the city states of Eorzea. 

4: What would they do if they needed to make dinner but the kitchen was busy?

Aric would either complain loudly that he’s hungry, whining until he was fed or was allowed to make himself a meal. That, or he’d try to come back later if he knew the person wouldn’t budge or feed him. 

5: Cleanliness habits (personal, workspace, etc.)

While he doesn’t own many things, he can still be pretty disorganized and messy with what he does carry on him. Removing his tabard prior to sleeping or bathing tends to be a trail of discarded articles of clothing leading to the bed or bath.

6: Eating habits and sample daily menu

Aric will eat literally anything, and it can get him into trouble. He’ll sample nearly any form of cuisine, and if he’s out in the fields and he becomes hungry, he’ll either hunt, fish or even try to eat a fiend or two. This can cause trouble for his party members, as he will generally offer them some of whatever he’s just caught.

7: Favorite way to waste time and feelings surrounding wasting time

Aric is a procrastinator, he has next to no motivation to actually do much of anything and enjoys to take things easy. Whether watching the skies, taking a nap, eating or merely walking around, he’ll actively avoid doing much of anything productive. The Scions often wonder and worry about how much actual work he could get done if he put the amount of energy into doing his work that he does into avoiding his responsibilities and assignments.

8: Favorite indulgence and feelings surrounding indulging

Aric loves to simply relax, watch the skies, the clouds and the coming and going of people within the settlements he drifts through. To him, merely taking time out of the day to rest and relax is the point for his freedom and seeks to do so whenever possible.

9: Makeup?

The scar over his left eye is false, drawn on with waterproof makeup. He tends to wash it away each time he bathes and recreates it nearly perfectly each time. He’ll swap sides, add new ones and even fake facial hair as needed to further his disguises.

10: Neuroses? Do they recognize them as such?

He used to have a fear of the skies, like most Ishgardian children. For the first few years on the run, he had issues with maladaptive coping and responses to stressful situations, but he has gotten better. He can still panic when he’s exposed to situations like when he was afraid he’d die for nothing, akin to his childhood in Dragoon training back in Ishgard.

11: Intellectual pursuits?

Aric is pretty lazy when it comes to many things, and while he is literate and formally schooled, he has no desire to grow that knowledge much. He however picks up tacit information of trade routes, trouble spots and other street wise experiences during his travels.

12: Favorite book genre?

If he can avoid reading, he will. If he can select a photo book of the sky, he will.

13: Sexual Orientation? And, regardless of own orientation, thoughts on sexual orientation in general?

Mostly heterosexual, but he has a few men in his life whom he does share romantic feelings for. Overall, whatever someone chooses to do, so long as it doesn’t hurt anyone else, is celebrated by him.

14: Physical abnormalities? (Both visible and not, including injuries/disabilities, long-term illnesses, food-intolerances, etc.)

Aric’s false scar on his face is part of his disguise, as is the eyepatch he wears. He has some burn scars and stab wounds from encounters with the Dravians during his time growing up in Ishgard.

15: Biggest and smallest short term goal?

To stay a step ahead of his family’s hunters looking for him to bring him back to the Holy See for his crimes against Ishgard

16: Biggest and smallest long term goal?

To keep wandering the land, seeing the world for how it truly is, far from the war in Ishgard. 

17: Preferred mode of dress and rituals surrounding dress

Aric regularly wears a red tabard over a mail hauberk, white jodhpurs tucked into high boots and long gloves over his mail sleeves. He prefers something light and easy to move in, but armored enough to keep him safe. 

18: Favorite beverage?

Aric prefers to stay away from anything alcoholic, but he enjoys juices made from fruits or vegetables, anything sweet. 

19: What do they think about before falling asleep at night?

Often, if it’s about the information he’s learned of the day. Ideally, he feels safe enough to sleep without worrying over being caught by the Inquisitors. 

20: Childhood illnesses? Any interesting stories behind them?

Aric suffered from agoraphobia and casadastraphobia, fear of open spaces and being taken into the sky, learned from his family and elder brothers during his time preparing to fight in the Dragonsong War. His eldest brother used to condition his younger siblings by diving upon them at random intervals, and then leaping back into the sky to simulate an attack by dragons to see how they’d react.

21: Turn-ons? Turn-offs?

Aric dislikes domineering, controlling or manipulative behavior when it’s in earnest. He doesn’t mind the occasional bratty or spoiled antics, but a genuine desire to control and own him or his choices makes him instantly defensive and resistant. He enjoys when others respect his desire to self determine, and respects those who choose for themselves and follow their own paths. Kindness and warmth, respect and understanding are attributes he enjoys. 

22: Given a blank piece of paper, a pencil, and nothing to do, what would happen?

He’d probably fold up the paper into the shape of a bird and toss it to watch it fly. The pencil would be possibly tossed at one of his party members or pocketed for later use.

23: How organized are they? How does this organization/disorganization manifest in their everyday life?

Aric is rather laid back, disliking the obligation for order and rigidity he was raised to abide to in Ishgard. He tends to arrive late, if he shows at all, with a lazy, unbelievable excuse. If he has a mess, he’ll shrug and make a half joking comment about it, then ignore it.

24: Is there one subject of study that they excel at? Or do they even care about intellectual pursuits at all?

Aric is formally trained as a Dragoon and Lancer for the Dragonsong War, and learned the necessities and tenents of this position, along with the teachings of the Holy See. Most of his information he currently uses he gathered during his travels, such as learning of trade routes, changes in weather, predicting how a group of people will react, for example if a bar brawl will break out and how to calm the situation, exacerbate it for his needs or escape without a sound. One skill he prides himself on is the prediction of weather based on his knowledge of the skies.

25: How do they see themselves 5 years from today?

He honestly sees himself either continuing wandering Eorzea, looking for odd jobs to feed him for the day, or helping out passerbys with any random event they may need.

26: Do they have any plans for the future? Any contingency plans if things don’t workout?

Aric just wants to be left to his own devices, permitted to go where he chooses, when he chooses, with little restricting his travels. He’ll go where the wind takes him.

27: What is their biggest regret?

His biggest regrets come from his time in Ishgard/Coerthas. He regrets how he and his friends were put in the line against the Dravanian Hordes to fight and die, without knowing much of the world beyond the Dragonsong War and what the Holy See decided for him. He regrets taking so long for choosing to run away and that he couldn’t bring any of his training legion with him prior to their deaths.

28: Who do they see as their best friend? Their worst enemy?

Rotatu Neotatu, the Lalafell Scholar he met in his travels is quite easily his closest of friends and confidant. There are few he trusts more than the Lalafell Scholar.

His worst enemy has to be the Holy See of Ishgard, the nobles and the Inquisitors sent after him during his escape from his homeland.

29: Reaction to sudden extrapersonal disaster (eg The house is on fire! What do they do?)

Depending on circumstances, he may not even get involved. If the situation doesn’t involve him or threaten him, he’ll opt to simply not get involved and walk away. However, he does not have much patience or forgiveness for those who oppress the freedoms of others, such as slavers or those who abuse their authority. He may get involved, but hide his actions behind ‘accidental’ interference. 

30: Reaction to sudden intrapersonal disaster (eg close family member suddenly dies)

Aric has been pretty desensitized by his experiences in Ishgard, and tends to smile through troubles and emotional trauma. He has learned to put on an act and avoid such emotional responses, at least overtly and in public. He tends to feel remorse if it was his fault, but he tries to be optimistic. 

31: Most prized possession?

When he fled the Holy See, he stole his family’s magical relics; a signet ring befitting his position of noble descent, however tangential, which can unlock the true power of the item he stole, the family heirloom lance. He is very protective of the item, and is rather dedicated to its upkeep.

32: Thoughts on material possessions in general?

Aric travels lightly, never with too much to his name outside of the clothing on his back, a small amount of gil, and his family heirlooms. He tends to donate or sell whatever he finds along the way to secure funds for lodging, repairs or food.

33: Concept of home and family?

Aric had a very strained relationship with his family prior to his desertion, their religious fervor and fanatical devotion to their roles as Dragoons in service to Ishgard, to kill the Horde or die in glorious combat left him feeling resentful of his role in their lives as just another expendable soldier. While he is certain family and home are important, he never truly had either, so he feels as if he doesn’t need either. 

34: Thoughts on privacy? (Are they a private person, or are they prone to ‘TMI’?)

Aric is deceptively private. While extroverted, candid and readily engaging with even strangers, nothing he ever offers or speaks of are wholly genuine of his true self. He offers stories, grandiose and mundane, anecdotes and more, but it always seems to be just a story or an act. With a smile and a wave, he dismisses many attempts to genuinely bond with others, instead managing to turn the tables, spin the conversation or distract the curious away without ever doing so overtly.

35: What activities do they enjoy, but consider to be a waste of time?

He enjoys helping others with their troubles, but politely and optimistically chastises them for worrying about such small things, instead telling them to relax and enjoy life as a whole. 

36: What makes them feel guilty?

He has turned and abandoned more than his fair share of people when he feels the Inquisition are near. He knows they trusted him, or expected him to be there for a while longer, but he slips away and focuses on running from his pursuers.

37: Are they more analytical or more emotional in their decision-making?

Aric is a mixture of the pair. While he avoids cold, hard logic, he tends to cite following the heart, but understanding that emotions do cloud the mind. He strives to argue that there needs to be a balance, otherwise any decision is doomed to be a disaster.

38: What recharges them when they’re feeling drained?

Sitting down and gazing at the skies above tend to make him feel relaxed, rejuvenated and raise his spirits. 

39: Would you say that they have a superiority-complex? Inferiority-complex? Neither?

Aric may act slightly arrogant, but it’s a facade he puts on to avoid scrutiny from others and to relax his mind and that of his group. He tends to feel a bit inadequate at times, questioning his place and role with groups such as the Scions of the Seventh Dawn or the Grand Companies. He doesn’t understand why any of the more higher ranked members of these groups even bother with someone like him, leading to doubts over whether or not he is capable of doing much to help anyone. 

40: How misanthropic are they?

After running from Ishgard, he was rather despondent and cynical from the loss of his training legion, his betrayal of his family and the Holy See. He distrusted nearly everyone he came into contact with for sometime until he learned how to move past it. He’s grown and healed, but he dislikes the powerful elite, who often tramples over the rights and freedoms of the normal citizens. He prefers to stick to wandering the trade routes over the hustle and bustle of the large cities.

41: Hobbies?

People watching, cloud watching, sky watching, singing and whistling to himself.

42: How far did they get in formal education? What are their views on formal education vs self-education?

As a former member of the nobility, Aric was privileged in his upbringing, having access to a formal education. As it was geared towards the desires and needs of the theocracy of the Holy See, his role in the Dragonsong War, he found that it had little application usage in other areas of Eorzea, and quickly began to learn all he could to survive in the world now as a wanderer.

43: Religion?

Aric is an apostate of the Ishgard Orthodox Church, the Holy See of Ishgard and has been dubbed a heretic by the Inquisition, despite not joining the Dravanian Horde. He has no desire to correct their declarations and maintains a large amount of disdain for the Church and the Holy See’s trappings and teachings.

44: Superstitions or views on the occult?

While he knows of the superstitions of the Holy See, among some other cultures, Aric sees such things are pretty much nonsense. However, he does hold grave respects for the weapons of the fallen, and often tries to bring them to rest with the fallen or to their families.

45: Do they express their thoughts through words or deeds?

Aric is a mixture of both, opting to elaborate and exaggerate with grandiose tales and retellings of anecdotes, or pledges, while also being quite confident in his abilities, however, he tends to play off these actions as accidental or unintentional.

46: If they were to fall in love, who (or what) is their ideal?

Despite his lack of commitment, Aric is relatively monogamous, and he’d prefer some loyalty to be returned in kind. Idealistically, it will be involving someone who he can be both aspects of his self with, someone he can trust to protect him, choose to be with over other bonds, as he will be giving equally of himself. Love is a partnership, one of mutual respect, trust and vision, and he’ll look for a partner who can understand him, and one he can understand in kind.

47: How do they express love?

Aric is very vocal and prominent, he’ll lavish praise, grandiose and mundane, upon his lover. He’ll go out of his way to find trinkets and gifts for them, and fabricate a tale concerning how he fought a horde of rabid behemoths at the market for such a prize. No task is too dangerous, no journey too far to bring glory and riches to his love, even if it’s all an elaborate story or outright lie on how he acquired the gift. 

Beyond his childish antics, he is a trusting lover. He tends to put their needs beyond anything else, even his personal freedoms and safety, so a moment of betrayal, whether purposeful or due to conflicting loyalties is taken heavily.

48: If this person were to get into a fist fight, what is their fighting style like?

Outside of normal combat, a lot of his actions are made to look accidental or unintentional to hide his trained skill as a knight of Ishgard. In hand to hand combat, he would stay smiling, a joke on his lips, and use his foot to trip up his opponent, or ‘accidentally’ strike them with his limbs while trying to run away or while pretending to fall.

49: Is this person afraid of dying? Why or why not?

Aric has a fear of death, but more so, his fear is over dying for a pointless cause because an authority dictated that he do so. He ran away from Ishgard because not wishing to die a pointless death in an unending war, due to the Archbishop and his family’s orders. When exposed to the Scions of the Seventh Dawn and the political troubles of the Grand Companies and Eorzea’s cities, he has similar fears and concerns over how readily he is thrown into conflict by those in power.

[namelessthirst]

Can you do a HC for Shoto, Bakugou, and Kirishima? One where their S/o is a an outgoing person with everyone else, but a shy mess when they're around their crush? How do the guys end up falling for such a shy girl?

SHOTO TODOROKI

Shoto was quite used to having two sides.

So yours was understandable, to an extent.

What confused him more was why it centered around him in particular.

He’d been making more effort socially lately.

So the mulling over of your reactions was to be expected.

Were you scared of him? Midoriya acted similarly around Bakugo, at least he had before.

He didn’t think he’d done anything to warrant fear? Had he overlooked something? Said something?

None of it made sense. The rest of the group was starting to worry about the brooding looks he’d slip into in class and at lunch.

It all clicked when he noticed Midoriya acting almost the exact same way to someone he didn’t recognize. He cornered the flushed boy and interrogated him.

“So, you aren’t scared of them?”

“N-no! Todoroki-kun, I just…Well-! They’re…T-they’re pretty. And I uh-”

Oh.

O h .

You didn’t hate him. Or fear him.

Once he realized what he did to you, he made it his mission to keep doing it.

The next few days or so of your life are going to be filled with heart-warming stress.

He tries to figure out what it is that he’s done to make you feel like this.

Expect him to move closer to you at random intervals.

Hope you’re good at not choking, because he’s going to snag the spot next to you at lunch.

Very obvious in his observations.

Definitely corners you after a bit, needs to know more.

Asks questions about what makes you favor him, like he didn’t just call you out on your crush.

What an ass?! You love him.

What a blush this boy can make, once you come to a stuttering stop in the flow of compliments.

“Okay. Let’s date.”

This isn’t a question.

Takes your hand immediately after and leads you back to class.

Totally walks you home.

Love-struck mess and his siblings notice it when he gets home.

Ends up getting advice given which he both appreciates and is terribly embarrassed about.

BAKUGO KATSUKI

Oh god. The hardest to deal with.

He’s so wrapped up in himself and his goals it’ll take a while for him to notice anything is amiss.

Notices it more if you interact directly because you give off the same scared prey vibe that Deku used to.

Izuku is pretty much the standard comparison in the class for “is this person being shy”.

It pisses him off!

He hasn’t even done anything to you! Why do you act like how Deku did after years of bullying?

Sure- he’s crass, blunt and brunt, pig-headed, and honestly awkward as hell when he’s not loud and trying to intimidate…But he hadn’t done anything!

Does actually try to be calm now and then around you. Is he really scaring you that much?

It doesn’t help, probably just makes your heart flutter and everything is just as bad or worse.

He eventually does get fed up with it.

Will hunt you down and try to interrogate you on the spot.

Probably out in the open, in public…He’s such a dumbass.

It’s likely that you’ll flee and he’ll end up giving chase. He’s too stubborn to let this go.

Will 100% fuss at you until you tell him what the fuck is wrong.

He’s definitely not pouting that you don’t act as friendly with him like you do with everyone else.

Spoiled brat please love him.

If he makes you cry doing this he will actually panic.

Equal parts “Wants to yell more because panic” and “Shh shh no shut up it’s fine sHUT-” like an older sibling who’s about to be caught making the baby cry.

Listen he’s so smart. SO SMART. And so goddamn stupid. Observant and blind as a bat. Learns so well and never catches on.

He’s a mess.

If he really does manage to bully it out of you, whether you cried or not, he will look absolutely dumbfounded.

Like, listen. Romance does not seem to be a thing that is ever on his mind.

Doesn’t really consider it and often never considers it for anyone else either.

Once he processes it, he’s stuck between being prideful (because of COURSE he’s attractive!) and his denial-fueled fluster (he’s not embarrassed! YOU’RE embarrassed!)

Now it’s in his head. The idea of it. The idea of you.

Still probably just flees the scene because he’s an ass with poor sense of tact.

Grumbles something along the lines of “That answer’s my question, I guess.”

Doesn’t know what to do about it.

Love is a liability.

The bakusquard corners him after a couple days, having noticed how depressed you seem, how you avoid them and him.

Interrogates him and collectively groan when he explains.

“So you rejected her?”

“What? No?”

“…Bitch you left. You walked. Thats rejection.”

Has no room to fuss at their scolding because he is in fact, full of dumbass disease.

You’re heartbroken and it’s his fault.

With some reluctantly accepted help, and some equally reluctant emotional counseling, he shows up at your house on the following weekend.

Dressed nicely, flowers in hand and an ashamed apology on his lips.

Love isn’t natural for him, but he’s trying. He wants to.

He wants to try for you.

EIJIRO KIRISHIMA

This boy.

This goddamn boy.

Is so mean.

And he doesn’t even know it.

Much like the first two, he’s full of dumbass disease.

At least when it comes to certain feelings directed at him.

Might be suspicious, but nah, surely it’s something else! Right?

Leftover insecurity from years past is a bitch.

Works to assume he’s just maybe a little intimidating?

Makes a joke out of it, how he’s finally achieved scary.

No one believes him and says so.

His teeth could tear your throat out but he’s about as scary as a newborn puppy.

Definitely tries to get close to you, both to maybe be playful about his supposed intimidation and to try and get you to relax with him.

Likes being friends. They’re important!

You’re no exception, so count on him following you pretty regularly as he tries to “help” and be your friend.

Suffering is such sweet sorrow.

Head-pats are a thing that happens. It’s supposed to be calming right?

Accidentally shifts into Big Bro mode in trying to get you to relax with him.

Leans over you to help you get things off high shelves

Waits in line with you at lunch even if he’s got his food already

Walks you home after school because you’re Gonna Be Friends and its the manly thing to do!

The other members of the bakusquad consider intervening because Fucking Lord

but they don’t because they’re assholes and watching Kirishima obliviously make you swoon is great fun.

He gets touchier with you as things progress.

An arm around your shoulder, slung casually with a smile.

A hand on your back when the hallways get crowded.

Head pats and hair ruffles.

Some rando at the cafeteria makes brief conversation with him, and openly mistakes you for his girlfriend.

He flushes just as much as you do, quick to correct them that no, no!

You’re Just Friends.

They’re apologetic, clearly feeling awkward and excuse themselves.

Kirishima doesn’t miss how dejected you look.

You excuse yourself from lunch quickly, finding your appetite gone.

He offers to walk you to Recovery girl, if you’re feeling unwell-

But you decline, shying away from his hands and fleeing as calmly as you can.

Mina is first to jump on his ass

“Kiri, what did you do?”

He splutters out what happened a bit ago and the whole table groans.

“This is too much. This is painful. Kirishima, you have to go tell her you like her.”

“What?! But-! I don’t? We’re just-”

“Just Friends- we know. That’s what you’ve BEEN saying! For weeks!”

Has it really been that long?

“You’ve been doing almost nothing but follow her around like an excited puppy all this time, trying so hard to make her happy and feel nice with you- you really think this is just. Friendship?”

He swallows thickly. He can’t argue. Thinking up new ways to try and please you had been running through his head for a while.

“So…you guys think she likes me?”

Food is flung at him.

The whole squad works to clean him up and hunt you down before the school day is over.

You’re wrapped in tape and being dashed across campus to a quiet spot where Kiri waits, fists gripped so tight he can feel his quirk acting up in waves all over his body.

You’re far from composed when you’re quickly unwrapped and set on your feet, squeals and laughs disappearing into the distance while you look awkwardly between the ground and your crush.

“I…[Name], I’m sorry.”

You feel like you’re going to puke. He finally figured out. Did they bring you here just to watch you crash and burn?

“Nothing I’ve been doing lately has managed to make you relax, or make you smile!”

What.

“Maybe…Maybe this will?”

You hear wolf whistles from somewhere over the ringing in your ears and the pulse in your neck as Kirishima presses a firm kiss to your lips.

[seenashwrite]

Notes From Nash: Season 15, Episode 3

It's ep three, and was third try the charm? Well, we're still in that little town, which is infuriating. But don't lose hope, chickadees. There was some character arc action and some plot advancing, and just drama in general, and it moved at a decently quick clip, all of which is refreshing after last week's ass-disaster of an episode. 

If I were grading this ep, all things considered (including some damn fine acting moments that elevated the material), it's an A-. (Five points were docked immediately because we were still in the little town.) But seriously, this week's writer(s) had a LOT to make up for given the aforementioned last week as well as a largely lackluster premiere, so you know what? Props to them. 

We got a loose end from season past tied up, got rid of some dead weight, and then there was a thing that happened that I’m not entirely sure was necessary at this interval, but I get why it happened. Of course, we had our requisite random hamfisted “solution(s)” and still-unexplained bits that should’ve been clarified ages ago, can’t not have those, it seems. Regardless, this episode was actually fairly interesting to watch. I’m still wary about the state of the season after the first two, but this one had some spark.

Spoilers below the cut, you know the drill.  

This one's in order, I was jotting stuff down as I watched. Past ep breakdowns linked at the bottom. If you’re new, hello, welcome, etc., I don’t do meta shit or reading into the symbolism of the color of a blurry wallpaper just over someone’s shoulder, I look at writing and cohesiveness and structure and flow and all that jazz. I basically just call things as I see ‘em. 

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More spooky-scary still seems to be pouring from the hellpit, but at least this crypt is pretty, and Harry Potter tent-esque because the square feet inside is seemingly bigger than the outside.  

Rowena appears to be outfitted in one of my grandmother's housedresses, or a coffin lining, or a 1980s prom dress, whichever you prefer, and none of them have been pressed. I'm trying to say I don't like it. They also continue to do Ruthie's makeup in such a manner that she perpetually looks approximately fifteen years older than she actually is, so in a way I'm thankful this is likely her last episode. On the other hand, I trust these writers and the people who assemble/green light the promos about as far as I can throw them, so we shall see. In any event, Ruthie is quite the good actor and I hope she gets a million gigs after all this is done.  

This Sam-Dean moment with Creased Brow Sam and Gruff Voice Dean is falling so flat, not because of them, but because we're hearing The Same Damn Thing We've Already Heard. Move the plot along, please----- Oh wait here comes Belphagor once again with a solution, this time a nice little plot rescue MacGuffin! Lilith's Crook. Just gotta blow it like a horn. 

Motherbitch, this is stupid.

I got a thought: make it Gabriel's horn, so it calls in all the angels who should've come back with the reverse-y switch-a-roo, and they deal with sealing the hole, but bonus! At end of ep last scene is that it's also called Gabriel back, too. I'd announce to the universe that this show needs to hire me, but, welp.

Oh look, Ketch is in a hospital gown. Oh look, I bet Ketch is about to die in that hospital gown, instead of a badass suit like it should be. It looked like DHJ accidentally spoiled via a tweet that I happened to see----- 

I dodge the promo images and articles and such so I can give a view of someone who doesn't know what is coming in these things. 

-----because he talked about coming back just to leave again, that it was a pleasure, whatever, and y'all will have to fill me in on that because I kinda can't believe he whiffed that hard. I'm not looking it up, is my point. Did he whiff? Actually, don't answer that, I don't care. I mean, don’t go to trouble looking into it on my account.  

Hmmm. Was Ketch’s death entirely necessary? At least, right now? I dunno. Maybe. I’m 50/50 whether this, or have him be double-crossy then get killed later. In any event, well-acted by DHJ. He's quite fantastic. He is wasted in all the Hallmark dreck he's been in, I really hope he gets some good work after this. That's that. Moving on. 

We're 1/4 in, and I'll give it this: we've gotten some action, some drama, but they've GOT to make up for the lack of plot progression in episode 2. Belphagor is shady as shit, which we knew, and this just got reinforced by that demon who has such a hard-on for Belphagor getting axed. 

I do not mind rando badass lady hunter having lines and playing a tangentially-important role in the ep, but this means if we ever see her again, she'll likely get killed, so I'm not getting attached. 

So hell is an angry vagina. SFX, are y'all okay? Is that prick whose tweets occasionally come across my feed still working there? Y'all need some hugs? I know y'all need some better budget, that all the DC shows got it, but oh well, that ship's sailed.  

Well done set dec, I dig the ghoulish statues in that hallway. And hey costume design, I like the ring that dude was wearing, I would wear that in real life. It would also look great as a wrist cuff. I digress. 

We know this demon is not going to succeed in killing Belphagor, so once more we have a pointless halftime cliffhanger. Also, have I mentioned I'm done with Cas being a weak puss? I'm telling you, if stuff got rewound, he should be incrementally getting his mojo back, that tracks logically. See Ep. 1 notes for what I thought should've happened for a legit "Whoa" moment. 

"Do you have any idea what he is?" --- he's a poop demon. Again, see the first episode of @youtotallymadethatup​    /shameless plug

[sighs]

Is this show gonna end with a Jack vs. Jack battle royale? Because fuck that noise. But! Writing-wise, it's okay that ol’ Belph may become the big bad. Nash, why would you say that, you ask. Easy.

IT WILL GET US THE FUCK OUT OF THIS LITTLE TOWN

A. Ny. Thing. to get us the fuck out of this little town. I am so goddamned bored.

Cas, this is a mistake. You should leave. What are you doing. Leave. Don't fall for that. Leave. Go now. Whoosh. Okay, or glow worm and barbeque the body. That was a nice little catch of emotion by Misha at the end. Except are the demons now gonna jump into his body? Better not, we've seen that season. 

Commercials! Cannot believe I've not been inundated with the adverts for the convention here in the spring, that's usually the jam. Imma go get some frozen yogurt. Highly rec strawberry with a little warmed-up Nutella. Try it, then tell me I'm crazy. I'm not. It's heavenly. 

Aaaaand, we're back!

Don't look so distressed Cas, y’all were gonna burn it anyway. But this takes Jack v. Jack off the table. Hopefully this means we'll be headed back to the Empty to get some progress on that hanging thread from last season sooner rather than later. Still, I'm glad we are down a character for awhile, this character in particular was starting to work my nerves and honestly, is just dead weight. I want it back to Sam and Dean for the most part this final season with sprinklings of Cas. Everyone else is secondary.

[claps] Very excellent Ruthie and Jared. One critique: Wish there could've been some sort of line from Rowena, re: "And perhaps I'll get to see my boy again", something of that ilk.

But I want to say this, and say it emphatically:

The nonsensical spells pulled from asses must stop

The soul-catcher thing is an example of a great move because it drew upon the past, then built upon for the present. This heart and angel blood and salt shit, and then this “Oh by the way it needs my dying breath” stuff is just obvious “um um um well how about bleh” writing stumbles, and it shows. The only reason that lameness worked? Ruthie and Jared’s performances. Period. Because y’all gave them absolute garbage to work with, and they made it shine.

Hey! There's the two convention promos with one short local ad in between, followed by the same local ad again! I was beginning to think they'd forgotten! 

WE ARE OUT OF THE LITTLE TOWN, I REPEAT, WE ARE OUT OF THE LITTLE TOWN 

DEAN IS IN A HENLEY, I REPEAT, DEAN IS IN A HENLEY 

Oof, Dean. I mean, I figured this convo would have to happen one day, it's been building, because even though his intentions are good, Cas has been involved in his fair share of shit taking left turns. Hopefully Cas is going to go seek out other angels. Also, re: Cas saying he's getting weaker - because, why? WHY. This has never been addressed in a definitive, satisfactory manner. 

Right, so, like we do each time, let's check in to see if we've had any character development and/or plot progression: 

Do Ketch and Rowena and Belphagor count, since they've progressed to being dead? Dunno, that's more of a finality to their overall arcs. Dean's being an asshole and Sam's being weepy and Cas is being an Eeyore, that's about par. Meh. Okay. So did the plot get advanced? 

YES THANK YOU FLYING SPAGHETTI MONSTER SWEET LORD YES. But, eh... a little weaksauce. Yes, that chapter of the initial onslaught is closed, yet we know it's not over. So I feel like the ep should've ended with, after the bunker door slams, a cut to a little scene that serves as a clue about what lies ahead. I mean, ahead-ahead, season-wise. Like, twenty second blip, not even, then hard cut to black screen, then on to promo which appears to be MotW. 

So that's it, really. More adept writers could've made the material of #1 and #2 into the premiere (minus several things, most specifically minus Kevin, should've saved Osric for something else down the line), then this should've been episode #2 instead of #3. Can't unring that bell, though. Let's hope we hit some speed before Buckleming comes along to run us into a ditch, then (fingers crossed) we have a few eps after that to rebound for the finale.

See you next week.

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Past posts, from newest to oldest (and I sometimes do addendums if a response warrants)

Episode 2

Episode 1

[evien-stark]

✧I Need You✧ Chapter 42

[Note: We’re fixing egregious canon errors here regarding one Peggy Carter’s relation to the Stark family. Specifically Tony.]

The rest of your July and August filled up very quickly. There was never a day that wasn’t busy. On the top of your priority list:

 The Expo October was right around the corner, true more so with every day that passed. The clean up had almost completed by the mid of August. About on schedule, give or take a week. The next thing to do was to rehire and really vet the staff there. After what had happened, it was very unlikely something else similar would occur. But just to be on the safe side you personally handled all higher up personnel that Stark Industries was taking on.

The next thing after that was re-massaging all the vendors and participants. Especially making sure all the tech presentations were on track. Really, they’d gotten lucky and been given the gift of two deranged mad-men derailing everything. With the Expo put on hold, all tech demos had more time to fine tune and really make everything perfect. All the more reason it should be exactly that.

After that… visiting some families in the hospital. Putting in personal time. Not just because you had to, but because you wanted to. You took full and personal responsibility for their well-being. Their healing. Their bills. And starting on a new line of Stark Industries tech that would help patients with amputated or paralyzed limbs. Both, unfortunately, that had been caused by the events. You’d gotten Tony to work on rough designs, more tech than anything else, and then sent that off to the proper people. You couldn’t pretend to be a doctor, but people who actually were would work on it. And that was good enough.

A meeting request had been formally put in by that organization AIM- but, reading over it with Pepper, she seemed to have an adverse reaction. More than enough to spook you, though you didn’t press her. More than that, you didn’t want to get into bed with a different company over what had happened. Stark Industries had let it happen. Stark Industries would fix it. You didn’t want even the slightest possibility that it would be misconstrued that the company was trying to pawn the work off on someone else.

And the very last thing on the docket… the pending lawsuit against Justin Hammer. At least something more joyous to look forward to every time you got an update. He didn’t want to take it to court with a jury. Smart man, even for how stupid he was. There was no way he’d get a lawyer better than yours to make his peers believe he wasn’t guilty. So. Plea it was. Unfortunately you didn’t have time to get into specifics. You told your lawyers to make it as difficult for him as possible. No paying his way out.

You wanted his ass in jail. Forever, if it was possible. And if he wouldn’t take it, you really would sit him down in court and make twelve people convict him. His choice. One was far less of a media circus. So you hoped he’d continue to play at being smart and do the right thing.

Fat chance, you realized, when the prison he was being held at called you to let you know you’d been put on his visitor’s list. He wanted to talk to you.

But you weren’t in the listening mood.

 Stark Tower In order to be ready to start deconstruction and rebuild on the tower, specs had to be made. Obviously. You spent more than one sleepless night alongside Tony at a drafting table. While it was smarter to have someone who actually knew how to build buildings be with you during the process, instead of sending it off after, you liked the more intimate setting of a man who knew what he was doing, who believed in your vision-

And who didn’t mind taking a break every now and again to fool around…

Significant progress was being made. Finals were starting to come back. If you were lucky you’d be able to start before the time quoted- December. The biggest part of that tower relied on Tony’s genius, though. Another reason you weren’t worried about this as much as everything else. Stark Tower was set to run on purely clean energy, powered by an Arc Reactor of Tony’s design. In order to do that, there had to be permit requests sent in for pipe, ground, and wire work just about everywhere. The city was probably going to drag their feet on it, which would require some personal coaxing. More time wasted.

 LADY&LUNA

Two overly complicated pieces of tech that you’d never be able to fully wrap your head around. Asking Tony more than once to try and explain the intricate parts of them, his process, what made them go… not because you would end up with a greater understanding. But because watching him talk about something of his own intimate design was… well…

Aside that, coming to peace with not knowing exactly how he’d made them or what made them work (aside the Arc Reactor he’d designed for you and his genius), what you knew was that they did. Mostly. Tony still seemed to be trying to make adjustments every other day. Coming up with new things- and rerouting the scatter pattern and… reprogramming the… whatever whatever… it was a lot of technical jargon. What you chalked it up to was that the suit didn’t work exactly the way he wanted it to yet. But it did what it was supposed to.

It buffed your strength when you had it on. Enough to hold back powerful attacks. It allowed you to form shields- although doing so weakened the rest of the suit as a whole- something he was working on fixing. And there was the small matter of flight. Which you could do, apparently, through the lift-off panels in the back. Something he’d perfected on his own suit, so that he didn’t have to rely on his hands, leaving them free for attack. But it was something you didn’t quite yet want to practice. No matter how much he tried to nudge you.

Better to learn it now than be forced to fly blind- sure- but… the very idea made you sort of nauseous. And nervous. Not that you didn’t trust Tony’s expertise, but the idea of being thousands of feet off the ground… maybe better tackled at some other point. In small doses. You were too busy right now.

LUNA had been extremely easy to get used to, after the first couple of uses. It was tech that had a practical use, and one that one of your subsidiaries was working on regardless. Smart Glasses, they called them. Except yours were smarter than any ones that would appear in the market in a handful of years. LUNA herself was very cheerful and sometimes you found yourself talking to her as you added things in to your schedule. Even introducing Pepper at one point, when she asked how you input things so quick.

 Simple, I just say it and she just does it!

She?

 Like JARVIS, so it was easy to explain. And since they had a practical use for work, it made it even easier to wear her whenever you wanted. Soon you sort of just started forgetting you had the earring cuffs on all the time. A little more conspicuous than the Heart Arc, for sure. But easier to deal with, since Tony still wanted to work on it, and… regardless of what you both agreed on you knew what it was for. Even if Defense was right in LADY’s title, you knew what, if you ever had to, it’d be used for.

And that made it that much easier to let him have it and keep it off you. For now.

  SHIELD Training

Just when you’d really started getting into a groove with Natasha, she started disappearing on sessions. To be fair to her it wasn’t disappearing and more… giving you to someone else. It was fine. She’d said as long as I’m on premises back when you’d first agreed. But it still sucked to come to the compound some mornings and find some instructor waiting for you that, put simply, wasn’t her. You’d started really liking your time with her. And this other person… just not the same. Not the same fire. Not the same understanding.

It was why when Natasha came back from whatever she was doing, you invited her to lunch after. And she’d accepted. It became a little bit of a ritual. She’d leave for some extended period of time and then come back, you’d train for three hours, and then you’d go get food. It was nice. And you really felt like you were making progress with her.

Unlike your time with Coulson- who also disappeared at random intervals. It was hard to focus with someone in the room that you’d never met before trying to guide you. While you weren’t on the most friendly of terms with Coulson, an entirely new person scrutinizing you and telling you what to do made your nerves flare up.

You thought you’d been starting to make progress when you took a long time to explain to Coulson what it was you were feeling- seeing- both? The ripples. There was something important about the ripples, and he’d told you to jump. Skip over the water like a rock.

To the next one. And it was crazy to you that you’d never thought about that before. And in that darkness when you tried to see the person in the middle of that pond- lake- river- whatever it was- there were tons of ripples. Each smaller than the last. Like a cocoon. And that made sense. You weren’t sure why you’d never thought about it. But getting to even the second one was tough. While you could bend and manipulate the first ripple to take over their emotional state for a short time, that was all you could do.

Trying to go over to the next level in made you feel weak. And you couldn’t help but wonder… what would happen if you could get to the middle?

Feeling like you really needed food after one particularly intense session, you tried to do exactly what you’d done to Nat. “Hey- do you wanna grab some lunch?”

Coulson had looked entirely blindsided. “Lunch?” He was usually stoic, if not cheerful in the same stoic way. His surprise here nearly surprised you right on back.

“...yes?” Not knowing what to do then. “It’s okay if you don’t want to-”

“I don’t make it a habit of sitting down outside of work with people I’m training.”

“You could have just said no thank you.” Embarrassed at his rebuff. You’d left quickly that day.

It was a week later during one of your and Nat’s night training sessions that had been bumped up because she’d been busy that you asked her out to dinner. An invitation she gratefully accepted. And upon seeing Coulson at a desk near the front… “We’re going for dinner, do you want to come?” Why try a second time? You were sure he was just going to make you feel bad about it again.

He eyed you first. Then Nat- who smiled at him. “It won’t kill you.”

“I’m sure it won’t.” He responded quick and succinct. As always.

But you tried a smile on next. “So come with us then.”

It shocked you completely when he relented. He was a little stiff at first, but eventually, at Nat’s insistence (grateful you had her as a buffer, as she knew him better), he started acting like a normal person. ...well. Not normal. But. Not entirely closed off and snarky either.

“How’s Lola?” Nat asked after finishing her first- and only- glass of wine.

“Lola? A girlfriend?” Curious and excited to get to know this part of him.

“Basically.” She ribbed him just a little.

“She’s fine. In the shop. Someone made the mistake of scratching her in a parking lot the other day.”

Not a girl. A car. Oh no. Was Coulson another Tony in disguise? You never would have guessed. Never! Not in a million years. But a man with a car named Lola… “I bet they regretted that.” Offered easily. Knowing exactly how much he must have loved that car.

“They did.”

                                --------------------------------------------

 September came sooner than you realized. You were tired, almost every day. Alongside everything else you were doing, personal and business projects alike, there was one other thing you were trying to figure out. And that had to be done under SHIELD’s radar- just in case. While you’d started to grow fond and used to seeing some of their agents regularly, you didn’t know how much you could trust them- more accurately, the organization they worked for.

This Super Serum stuff… it was always in the back of your mind. It had apparently created not one but two monsters. And any trace of information on it had either been destroyed or so hidden it was impossible to track down. It didn’t help that it seemed like Tony’s father had been involved somehow. More than just initially. It made it tough to even bring any of that to Tony to check out. Because all of that still seemed to be an open wound.

It was something you knew you had to get to the bottom of.

But often as it had become in this crazy little world of yours, once you looked into something, it looked back.

You knew something was wrong when Pepper came into your office, skittish, closing the door quietly behind her, head down. Unlike her. Bad news, you were sure. You just had no idea what kind of bad news.

“What’s up?” Better get it over with now. Coming closer she sat down in front of your desk, leaning over to slide a letter your way. “What is it?”

She was making you nervous.

On the front you saw the name and address of the sender-

“Margaret Carter?” The name registered- well Carter did. Carter. Your eyes lifted. “This is for me? Are you sure?” Your heart dropped into your shoes.

Pepper nodded slowly, frown firm. “It’s for you. I didn’t read it past the first line.”

Steeling yourself you pulled the single piece of paper from inside the envelope. Indeed it was your name at the top margin. Followed by a very clear and simple message.

 Please come see me at your earliest convenience. I need to speak with you about something very important. There is no need to involve Tony.

Regards,

Peggy

 The last line hurt you the most. Made you wary that this was something you weren’t equipped to handle. “Do we know about the retirement home?” Immediately you started pulling up the website on your computer. Don’t involve Tony meant a lot of things. None of them good.

“I picked it out.” Pepper said softly, her head hung. “It’s supposed to be the best in the area. We pay a lot for it.”

Peggy Carter had been a close family friend of the Starks. And when she’d needed living assistance, it was Pepper that Tony had tasked with finding her the best home to spend the rest of her life in. You had no doubt in your mind that Pep had done her best to make her comfortable and had indeed done just that. It was true, the bill that came in yearly- you’d seen it last year when the accounting department asked if there was a way to resolve it.

 Resolve it.

 That person had been fired on the spot. You hadn’t told Tony that, either. Maybe you were more like Peggy than you knew.

But if something was going wrong now… you didn’t have attachment to her other than your knowledge of her from history classes in school (much like the fabled Captain America). But you knew she was important to Tony. About the only family he had left. He wasn’t exactly open about that sort of stuff… and he hadn’t exactly visited her… ever… but…

If they were mistreating her you knew there was nowhere any of those people could hide that he wouldn’t find them. Maybe Peggy was relying on you to be discreet. Not wanting to cause an uproar. But, even knowing Tony felt that way made you feel the same by extension. Were people in this retirement home abusing Peggy Carter in her old age?

You’d throw them into space.

“Get the jet ready. I’m going to go tonight.”

Pepper nodded and stood. She was just about to leave but she turned back. “You know… she’s not always… she’s not all there.”

This was out of your comfort zone. “I’ll be delicate.”

                                 --------------------------------------------

 There was no way this was a coincidence. You hoped, however. You hoped that it was and that Peggy just needed help getting settled somewhere else. You’d whip whoever had disgraced themselves by abusing her and move her somewhere better. That was an easy thing to do. Precisely why you knew that wasn’t what was going on.

In the air you made the call. Tony picked up on the second ring. “Not coming home for dinner, huh? What’s got you now?” He sounded slightly distracted. Probably working on project number ten billion.

“I’m going to DC. I’ll probably be back tomorrow morning.” She had asked you not to tell him… but…

“What’s in DC?”

...but that wasn’t how you ran your life. That wasn’t how your relationship with Tony worked. “Peggy Carter sent me a letter.”

The sound of glass shattering on the floor caught you by surprise. Apparently about as much as you had Tony. “What? Why?”

“I don’t know. But I’ll get to the bottom of it.”

“I’ll be there in a few hours.”

“She asked that I didn’t tell you.” This was the worst. But you hoped this helped somehow. You and Tony were a team. Inseparable. Even asked to hide information from him- from someone very important and no doubt adamant- you just couldn’t.

But the silence on the other end of the line hurt your heart. Even more so when he finally spoke. “Yeah. Alright. I get it.” The sound of him banging a wrench against something- throwing himself back into work- signaled he didn’t want to talk about this anymore. But, one last surprise, “Take care of her, alright?”

“I promise.”

Though visiting hours were long since over by the time you landed, got a car, and got over to the facility, you had no problem flashing your Stark Industries badge at a number of scared nurses who waved you right on through. You weren’t up for anyone’s nonsense right now. And god helped any of them if they were part of the reason you were here.

But when you got into her room, your ire and resolve melted and in its place left a nervous woman. Peggy was lying in bed- a place you imagined she spent most her time in. She’d been a hero in her day. One of the first get-shit-done women that the world had acknowledged. She’d been a hero to many, and you’d daydreamed about being even half the bad ass she was in your earlier years.

Meeting her like this…

“Hello, ma’am.” Embarrassed at how nervous you were, pushing through to come closer into the room and take a seat at her bedside.

She turned her head and looked at you, not recognizing you- why would she? But- she had sent you a letter- how did she even know about you? The answer came when you spied a stack of newspaper clippings on her bedside table. You and Tony. Media scraps. The one on the very top was one of the pictures of the two of you from the gala, and all the details of your revealed relationship. “Oh- yes- you got my letter. I’m glad. It’s good to meet you.”

“You, too.” Your smile was not as unsure this time around. “I came as soon as I read it. Is um… is everything okay here?” Better get the nasty business out of the way. “If it’s not, we’ll move you somewhere else.”

She waved a hand at you. “Oh, please. They treat me like the Queen.” At this the knot in your stomach subsided. A weight off your shoulders.

“Oh. Well. That’s good.”

“I needed to talk to you to warn you about what you’re doing.”

And just like that, weight back on. Your hands knitted together, squeezing tight. “Warn me?”

“Well, dear, it’s impossible to throw stones at a bee’s nest quietly.” Her smile was soft. Knowing. “I may not be what I used to, but I still have ears in important places. And I hear you’re looking for something that was buried a long time ago.”

If Peggy Carter of all people was on to you… that didn’t bode well. Better her than anyone else, but… There could only be one thing she was talking about. “Not that long ago. We’ve come into contact with people messing around with the Super Soldier Serum- a few months ago-”

“That’s impossible.” She shifted to sit up a little more.

“I wouldn’t be looking otherwise. What happened was dangerous. And I want to know more so that I can put a stop to it.” This was probably for the best, you realized. That she’d caught you. You didn’t know how but if she could tell you more… “Can you talk to me about Project Rebirth?”

“Project Rebirth...” She echoed softly, looking away. You waited patiently for her to begin again, and were rewarded after a long moment of silence. “Project Rebirth began and ended with Captain Steve Rogers.” There was a warmth to her tone and a flush feeling of bittersweet. Something you hadn’t expected.

“Project Rebirth is where the Super Serum came from, right? Do you know what happened to that formula after?” If you could even just start to track it all down-

She looked back at you again. “It ended with Rogers. Erskine- the man who made it- was killed. No notes. No anything. But… that wasn’t good enough for some people.”

“Who? I know Howard Stark was involved, can you tell me what he did? Can you tell me if he left notes behind somewhere?” Somewhere you could find. If anyone knew… it would be her. The last alive link to all of this.

“You think after a man like Steve Rogers is created by the military, no one else is going to try and replicate it?”

Nodding, “That’s exactly it. People are trying. Right now. I’m trying to follow a trail- but it’s dead-”

“Stop what you’re doing.” Cutting you off, looking at you in a way that chilled you to the bone. “Going after this has killed people with far more means than you. Don’t do that to him.”

“Killed who, Peggy?”

Her gaze softened and you felt the subtle slip. “How is Tony…? I haven’t seen him in… too long, I think. And… who are you again? Did Pepper Potts send you?” You didn’t know what to do. You almost felt like crying. “How is Tony? I haven’t seen him in so long...”

“Starting the guilt trip already? I only just got here.” The least surprising reveal of the evening, Tony’s voice and the sound of his heavy footsteps coming in behind you.

“Oh- Tony- you’ve grown so handsome. Like your father.” She sat up even further, opening her arms to beckon him in. “Getting into all sorts of trouble, I’ll bet.”

“Handsomer, I think.” You stood, moving back to the door to give them room.

He bent down to hug her. “Hey, Aunt Peggy...”

“Let me look at you.” Her hands were on his face, tilting him this way and that. “You look much better than you do in the papers. How is Howard? And Maria? I feel like I don’t see them much anymore...”

“They’re fine.”

“How are things? How’s the company? Still seeing a different woman every night? It would do well for you to settle down, you know...”

“Yeah, yeah… hey, how are things here? Are they treating you okay?” Ignoring her question. Ignoring the regression. It was too much for you. You barely voiced excusing yourself and turned to leave.

“Oh, please... They treat me like the Queen...”

                                 --------------------------------------------

 It was chilly outside. Yet there was a pool of warm discomfort settling in your chest. Everything about this trip had been upsetting. None more so than seeing her like that- seeing that quick shift… the light dying in her eyes right before the reset. What had she been trying to tell you? Peggy Carter knew more about this than she was letting on. More that she was losing every day.

Maybe she was right. Maybe you should just let it go. Maybe you should have brought up SHIELD. Maybe any number of things. All you knew was that you’d flown out to DC tonight to bother an old woman. You didn’t want to do it again.

And-

Tony’s jacket came around your shoulders. “Treating her like the Queen, she says.” That soft sheen of familial heartbreak was thundering in his chest. It couldn’t be easy to see someone you loved like that.

You looked up at him. “Yeah. She said the same thing to me.” Literally the same.

“So what did she want, then? ...or did she not know who you were?” He asked this, shifting uncomfortably.

“She did. For five minutes. She tried to tell me to stop looking into the Super Soldier stuff.”

His eyes went down. “Yeah? You should probably listen to her, then.” It was strange hearing Tony telling you to back off of anything.

“We agreed to look for this. She might have a point but- it’s- after what happened in Harlem? With that monster? And there’s another one out there somewhere? Tony,  it’s only a matter of time before this causes more destruction-”

His hands came to your arms, stopping you dead in your tracks. “It’s not our job to clean up everything.”

“Yeah- but-”

“Listen...” He quieted you carefully. So you stopped, blinking up at him. “Let’s focus on the stuff we can take care of. Okay? This… right now this is all dead ends. If it comes back, it comes back. And we’ll deal with it then. But for now, I’m asking you to put a stop to it.”

For a brief moment you wondered if Peggy’s lucidity had returned and she’d warned him of the same things. In the end, it didn’t matter. “Okay, Tony.” He had a point, anyway. There was already too much on your plate. SHIELD knew where this monster was. They were probably keeping an eye on him. And they were no doubt looking for the other one.

...you’d just have to trust them. For now. Made easier that in doing so you were really trusting Tony. And Peggy.

His arms came around you. “Thank you.” You relished in that warm hug for as long as he let it go on for. When he pulled back, he reached inside the jacket around your shoulders to go into the pocket. “Now. Why don’t we fly home?” Pulling the Heart Reactor out and pressing it into your palm.

“Oh- Tony- no. Not right now. Now’s not a good time.” Plus a flight that long? For your first one you wanted something like… one yard of distance max. His quick shift in wanting to do so was also extremely see-through. You wished it wasn’t. Because you were almost at the point of going along with it just to make him feel better after all this.

“Now’s the perfect time. It’s a good way to clear your head. And I’ll be right there. -not that anything will happen.”

“That’s not winning me over.” After all this though, maybe he was right. ...again. Maybe putting your mind to something else would ease everything else. Not to mention his own. Reaching up you pressed on the left cuff still on your ear, activating LUNA’s visor. “Can you scan please for anyone in the nearby vicinity?”

Because suiting up right where people could see you would kind of dismiss the idea of this secret identity life you were pretending you could have.

“Immediate area clear.”

“You’re getting so good at this.” Tony was grinning softly, at least somewhat impressed. Which only bolstered you. Sticking the Heart Reactor over your chest, you double tapped, activating the suit. “You turned off the magical girl show already?”

Once inside, you felt much warmer. “I’ll leave that for Fury. What do I do for the helmet?”

Turning back, Tony went over to his open suit that he must have just left outside the door when he’d come in. It seemed rather risky, but then again, anyone stupid enough to try and steal and Iron Man suit was just that. “Why are you asking me?” Teasing you lightly.

Oh. Right. So, with that in mind… “LUNA, activate… helmet…?” Unsure about this command. But as soon as you’d ushered it, the visor slid out in both directions, sealing your head up, finally completing the entirety of the suit.

This was the first time you’d been fully locked in. It was comfortable, really, if not for even more information coming alight across the visor- ...helmet, now, you guessed, it was really easy to get used to. Tony came closer, suited up again. “You look fantastic, if I do say so myself.”

“You would.” Since he’d designed it. “What do I do now?”

“Take my hand.” Offering it out. “You have back panel stability for flight, and on the soles as well. You can use your hands too, if you need to do a quick stop. Come on.” And like that he lifted off gently.

“Um… LUNA let’s… go?” It was an untethered command. You assumed she was more programmed for straight forward stuff, but a little less than surprised when she picked up and you felt the jolt of power coming from beneath you. Lifting you up with him. “Oh- Tony- I don’t know about this-”

“Don’t be scared.”

Without a second warning he really took off. Lifting fully into the night sky and then jetting out over the city. Your hand was just about crushing his. “Tony- I don’t think this is for me-!” The route home lit up underneath you.

The lights. The people- smaller than ants. Clouds drifting by. You were so high up-

“You’re doing great.” Without warning he let go of you, leaving you grabbing- reaching out for him uselessly.

“Tony!”

“You’re fine. Relax.” The rumble of his laughter right next to your ear settled you somehow. He flashed so far ahead of you. Way more experienced. Used to this sort of thing.

But it was when he flew up overhead and you followed in his wake, the glow of the moon shining down on the both of you, the stars up ahead… countless sleepy cities below… and you in control of just how fast, how far, how high- somehow. Somehow. The controls were intuitive. When you telegraphed up, you went up, and when you wanted to ease back, you did that too. All with easy direction. And then you realized what you really wanted to do, “LUNA, let’s keep up with Tony.”

“Yes, ma’am!” A lock on target clung to him, flashing briefly before fading and your boosters picked up again, speeding you up alongside him.

“There you are. Was beginning to think you weren’t gonna make it home until tomorrow at that speed. How are you liking it so far?”

When you breathed in, it was almost like breathing the fresh air in up this high. Somehow. Kind of like a dream. Flying. You were flying. “It’s incredible.”

Best of all, it really had cleared your head.

Reaching out he took hold of your hand again. Not guiding you this time, just holding you. “Told you so.”

[robininthelabyrinth]

Fic: An Internal Affair - Chapter 17 (Ao3 link)

Fandom: The Flash Pairing: Leonard Snart/Barry Allen

Summary: Leonard Snart, the CCPD Captain of Internal Affairs, is known as Captain Cold for a very good reason: He hates corrupt cops with a merciless vengeance, and once you’re on his list, you’re in serious trouble.

His next target?

A CCPD lab tech named Barry Allen who’s developed a suspicious habit of disappearing at random intervals.

—————————————————————————————————

Len is hovering by the door again, wondering if he should go in or not.

On one hand: it's Mick.

This is all so characteristic of him, really. Just when Len is losing hope, just when the doctors are starting to give up, Mick decides it’s time to defy expectations yet again and struggle his way back to consciousness in dramatic fashion. And not the momentary, illusory consciousness that Len's become accustomed to, moments where Mick's eyes would flicker open and his mouth would move in empty, meaningless syllables.

Real consciousness.

Mick's back.

He's alive, he's - not intact, no, but he's been acing all of the doctors' cognitive tests and he remembers all the facts and dates and events that he should.

He's grumpy and irritable over the food quality and friendly with the nurses while being a jackass to the surgeons and all in all is just so very Mick Rory that it makes Len want to cry just from sheer relief and having missed him so damn much.

(He may or may not have taken a few hours in a convenient hospital storage closet to do just that, father-imposed inability to shed proper tears aside; the world will never know for sure.)

So obviously Len should go in and talk to him.

On the other hand...this is Mick.

The man Len betrayed for years, being a cop without ever telling him. The man who rescued Len anyway. The man who paid the price for it.

And oh, what a price - two-thirds of his body covered in burns, now twisted into scars despite the best efforts of the medical establishment. Serious deterioration and atrophy of his muscles from being in a coma. Bed sores, a swollen throat from routine intubation, scars on his lungs, urinary tract infections...

His strong body, which he was always so proud of, decaying away around him like a living corpse - and all Len's fault.

Len was always willing to accept that bargain: that he’d take Mick's anger or hatred, whatever, anything, anything at all, as long as Mick woke up as himself. But sitting there with an unconscious man and wishing for that to happen is pretty different from actually having to walk inside the hospital room and face the music.

And so he hovers, wondering, debating, searching for some sort of sign of what he should do -

"Snart. Stop skulking around out there and get in here."

Well. That's certainly clear enough.

Len creeps into the room.

Mick is -

Mick is beautifully, wonderfully alive, and honest to God, everything else is so much less important that Len can't remember why he was so reluctant to come in.

Of course, then he tries to open his mouth and say something, realizes he has no idea what to say because months of rehearsing apologies is apparently rendered totally useless after a month of total panicked despair followed by frenzied overwhelming delight and relief, and he abruptly remembers what was stopping him.

What does he even say? How does he even start?

"Where are you showering?" Mick asks.

...on Len's list of ways this conversation could go, that wasn't really one of them.

"Showering?" Len asks incredulously.

"Showering," Mick confirms. "You like to shower in the mornings, it’s morning now, and your very friendly piece of skirt tells me you haven't left the hospital in days. So you gotta be showering somewhere here."

"There's a shower in the nurse's wing," Len says blankly. "Why - wait, what piece of skirt? Do you mean Danvers?"

"Yeah, her," Mick says. "Skirt. She was wearing one – red skirt, with mesh leggings underneath, and also a cute but very concealing sweater with the puppy holding the ice cream cone. She says you know the one...?"

Len is, in fact, familiar with that outfit; it's Danvers' go-to security blanket outfit, the one she wears when she's stressing over something. Usually over Len being dumb, if he's being honest.

Hmm. He really has been living at the hospital the past few days, hasn't he?

"Yeah," Len says. "Definitely Danvers. When'd you see her, anyway?"

His accent slips deeper whenever he's around Mick, he notices; a little less nasal overall, but affecting more words, adding more shortenings and dropping more words. A silent sign of how instinctively comfortable he is in Mick's presence, no matter how stressed he is.

"You were apparently unconscious in a chair in the hallway at the time," Mick says with shrug he aborts with a wince halfway through. "She wanted to introduce herself, set me up with a new phone and group-chat and some shit like that, have me sign some papers -"

"Papers?" Len asks sharply. He'll - deal with Mick actually having a chance to read Danvers' long-threatened group-chat logs later. As far later as possible. "What papers?"

"Apparently I've been suing the police department for being dickheads while I've been out cold and now that I'm awake she needs me to agree to keep it going," Mick says.

Len barely manages to keep from laughing. Of course Danvers would remember that lawsuit Len had some lawyer file in a fit of agonized grief right after it all happened, even though Len himself has long forgotten all about it. How had he ever managed without a personal assistant before now?

"Didn't really ask much past that," Mick continues. "You know I never miss a chance to stick it to the pigs."

Len flinches.

Right.

Trust Mick to bring up the elephant in the room right away.

Mick hates cops.

Len’s been one for years.

Mick just looks at Len steadily. "You never told me," he says quietly. "Why?"

"It wasn't true when we first met in juvie," Len says miserably, hovering by the familiar chair next to Mick's bed but not actually sitting down. "And when we hooked back up later on, started working together on jobs just once in a while, I was brand new and just absolute shit at it, paranoid as fuck. Barely even spoke to the one or two guys that did know, my handlers with the CCPD and the Feds; didn't feel safe enough. And by the time I pulled my head outta my ass, it'd been years and we were partners and I knew you hated pigs and I didn't want you to hate me and -"

Mick starts laughing.

Not in a scornful or miserable way, the way Len might have feared it would be, but actual real deep laughter of the sort he hasn't heard from Mick in far, far too long.

"What?" Len asks, suspicious. "What'd I say?"

"I thought it was 'cause you didn't trust me," Mick chokes out between belly laughs that are probably hurting him. "I shoulda known it was because you're just an idiot. Same as always."

"Hey!" Len protests automatically.

Not that he takes any offense - he knows Mick calls him an idiot because that's how Mick demonstrates affection, with friendly insults and ribbing and casual death threats.

But he's not an idiot!

At the very least he doesn't think he's done anything that qualifies him to be called an idiot at this exact moment, anyway.

"Fine, then," Mick says, getting better control over himself - probably better for his health and well-being - though he still has a giant shit-eating grin on his face. "Not an idiot. A goober that can't do social situations for shit, that better?"

"Not really."

"S'true though."

"It ain't! I can do social shit! I do social shit just fine!"

"Even when you're not conning someone?"

"Even when I'm not conning someone!"

After all, Len assures himself, Barry totally continued to want to date him even after he'd stopped trying to con him...

Maybe that's not the best example.

"Uh-huh," Mick says, looking amused. There are little wrinkles of laughter by his eyes; Len hadn't noticed those, before. Amazing what months of memorizing a person's slack unconscious face will reveal. "Lemme guess. That'd be this Barry Allen guy Danvers' chats keep mentioning."

"...you've read them."

That emotion he's feeling right now - is it horror, extra horror, or extreme horror?

Mix of all of the above, clearly.

"Oh yeah. I've definitely read them," Mick says gleefully. "But I wanna hear about it from you directly."

"Mick."

"Don't you 'Mick' me. I've got no other entertainment right now, and you know I like romance shit."

"You like pulp sci-fi and ninja romance stuff, not just romance," Len objects. "This story..."

He trails off, considering for a moment.

"Well, it ain't got ninjas," he finally says. "As far as I know, anyway, though there was a weird mention once or twice of something fucked up happening Starling, I dunno. And it might've been a bit romantic, but right now it's mostly just tragic."

"Tell me about it anyway."

"Tell you about what?" Len complains, finally taking a seat next to Mick on his bed. There's a chair, too, but chairs are for losers who don't get to sit on comfy beds with their best friends who, amazingly, appear to be forgiving them for - well, everything. How Mick can do that sort of thing, Len has no idea. "There's nothing to it. I got bored in between investigating the million and one corrupt assholes in the CCPD and find out this one guy who's been acting suspicious apparently disappeared for nine months, supposedly in a coma, but then reappeared with no damage and these amazing abs -"

"No kidding, I've seen the pics."

"Goddamnit, I’m gonna gut Danvers; those are technically evidence and she shouldn't be sharing them. Anyway, turns out he ain't corrupt, he's just a fucking superhero. Who'd have thought, you know?"

"Not really anyone's first guess," Mick agrees.

"And first I think he's okay, you know," Len continues. He's ranting. He's aware that he's ranting. He can't seem to stop himself from ranting. "Because he's kind and friendly and optimistic and he's got this stupid smile that lights up the room, but I'm thinking no way anyone's this perfect, he's gotta be up to something, but I get this idea in my head that it must be that he's investigating the superhero - this is all happening before I figure out he is the superhero, that is - so I start dating him anyway -"

"Dates go well?"

"Amazingly. He legitimately thinks my puns are funny."

"Clearly a match made in some level of punster hell," Mick says.

"Shut up, puns are funny."

"Lowest form of wit."

"Lowest circle of hell's supposed to be cold, so I guess it fits," Len says, rolling his eyes. "Did I tell you yet that he thought for a while that I was a supervillain named Captain Cold? That's my new nickname at the precinct."

"No, but that's hilarious. You always did like your cold puns. Actually, you probably didn't know it, but people – criminals, that is – sometimes called you Ice-heart Snart."

"That's...awful. I'm glad I didn't know about that."

"No kidding. Captain Cold's much better. So he thought all of that about you and dated you anyway?"

"No, he didn't realize I was the Internal Affairs guy at first; I didn't tell him ‘cause I was investigating him. Anyway - wait, where was I?"

"Amazing dates," Mick prompts.

"Well, they were," Len says. "Absolutely amazing. Best I've ever had - just talking and laughing and just being happy hanging out and all that stuff that comes right out of that romance stuff you're always on about - and then, of course, just as I start thinking that I finally got lucky, it all blows up in my face. Turns out he's just as bad as I thought when I first started looking into him, and I should be happy to be proven right except for some reason I'm not, and now I can't stop thinking about how awfully he's gonna do in prison when he finally gets sent there like he deserves. I feel like shit about it and I don't know why -"

"Of course you don't," Mick says, sounding amused. "You wouldn't."

Len eyes him suspiciously. "You say that like you do know."

No way. Mick's been in a freaking coma; how could he have figured out what the hell's going on with Len's emotional state before Len did?

"Lenny," Mick says, sounding just a bit patronizing. "I might be a blockhead, but I've been interpreting your emotions for you since juvie. 'course I know."

"You're not a blockhead," Len protests automatically, always on guard against anyone - even Mick - putting down Mick's intelligence. He hates it when people do that; Mick's one of the smartest guys he knows, even if he doesn't talk all that pretty. "You just don't got as much education as some, s'all."

Though Mick's got a point about Len's emotions.

Not that Len's going to ask him to explain.

It doesn't matter, after all, what's done is done. Who cares how he feels about it?

Who cares about understanding why Len feels like he got a shiv to the gut every time he even thinks about Barry - about Allen, damnit - and a feeling like he swallowed crushed glass but also a weird kind of happiness left over from when every thought of Barry brought him joy?

Who cares -

Len. Len cares. Len cares a lot.

"Okay, I'll bite," he says, giving in. "What the fuck is wrong with me?"

"You're in love with him," Mick says. "Obviously."

...what?

No.

Impossible.

In love? Len doesn't do love.

Len's never done love, or at least not love like that - love for Lisa, love for Mick, yes, but not the stupid sort of Valentine's Day love, the type you read about in novels that you don't admit to reading, the type that makes the world turn around you and leaves you breathless and chokes in your throat, ripping your heart out of your chest because it belongs to someone else who doesn't care as much as you care, and leaves you with an awful gaping hole in your belly whenever you think about the fact they're going to go away for good somewhere where you won't see that optimistic smile or hear that laugh or -

Shit.

Shit.

"...I really am an idiot that can't do social situations for shit," Len says aloud, realizing.

"You really are," Mick says, but he sounds fond. "Don't worry; I came to terms with that years ago."

"But I can't be in love with him," Len says, trying so desperately to shove that knowledge back under the river of denial where it came from that he doesn't even make a de-Nile pun like he usually does. "I can't! He - he's - he's done unforgivable things – kidnapping, imprisonment, solitary – literal war crimes – and he should've known better, he's corrupt -"

"Sounds to me like he made some mistakes -"

"Mistakes?!" Len yowls.

Mick holds up a hand. "Okay, fine, yeah, some of those mistakes are crimes, some might even be war crimes, but seriously, Snart, if you stopped liking someone just because they committed a couple of horrific crimes, you and me, we wouldn't be friends."

"It's not the same thing!" Len protests.

"I'm an arsonist, Lenny; I literally murder people sometimes."

"Usually as an unintended side effect," Len says dismissively. Intent matters, when it comes to criminal stuff; most of the time Mick could be blamed for nothing worse than negligent manslaughter and that's only technically murder. Len checked. "He's corrupt, Mick. He put himself out as being a hero, as someone doing the right thing, as someone upholding the law, and all the while he's doing stuff like that in the shadows...I can't be in love with someone like that, Mick. I can't. Look what corruption did to you! Look what it did to me and Lisa, when it was my dad! Look what -"

Mick catches Len's hands, which Len has been waving angrily in the air.

"Don't move like that!" Len exclaims, losing his prior train of thought immediately. "Your muscles aren't used to sudden movement; you'll hurt yourself!"

"It hurt," Mick says. "It was still worth it. Boss, you're spiraling."

"I'm - what?"

"Spiraling. My shrink told me about it; you get stuck in a mental rut and you can't get out of it, so you just go in circles, on and on, torturing yourself with all your bad thoughts. In this case, it's me." Mick squeezes Len's hands. "You've been torturing yourself with what happened to me. Except instead of thinking about it and dealing with it and getting over it, you've poured everything you feel into your war on corruption, focused so much on it that you're seeing unforgivable corruption and betrayal every way you look. But you don't gotta keep doing that. I'm here. I'm okay. I'm alive."

Len stares at Mick.

His hands, still enclosed in Mick's, start shaking. His shoulders, too, and he can't seem to make them stop.

"You're alive," Len croaks, suddenly finding it hard to talk. He’d known Mick was alive and mostly well for a while now, couple of days, but it suddenly feels like he’s learning it all over again. "You're alive. You're alive and you're talking and you're you and - fuck, Mick, I nearly lost you."

"I know."

"I can't do this shit without you," Len says, desperate now. "Any of it. Life, the universe, everything; it doesn't matter. I need you by my side, Mick. I need my partner - I need my best friend. It all turns to ash without you."

"I'm here," Mick says, strong and solid and dependable as ever. "You've got me."

"I don't -" Deserve you, Len is about to say, only he chokes on it; he never knew he felt that way. "I lied to you. For years. By omission, by commission...I put my job above our partnership. I shouldn't have. I really shouldn't have. You're more important - you're the most important. I ain't never gonna put anything above you ever again. Not work, not romance, not anything nor anyone. Not anything. I'm so goddamn sorry, Mick. Not just for what I did to you, for what happened, but for the lying. For all of it."

"You're an idiot," Mick says, and he squeezes Len's hands again. "Total idiot. Boss, it's fine. Really. I get it. I get why you made that choice - especially now that I know it was all about your issues, not about me and what you thought of me. Even before that, though, I got it. I knew you were a pig and I came to get you anyway, remember? Through gunfire and furious Families, and that's saying something."

Len nods mutely.

"I did it because we're partners," Mick tells him. "And we're always gonna be partners. Always gonna be friends, even if you do something dumb like lie to me or fall in love with a target of your investigation before you finish investigating him -"

"Hey," Len protests, but weakly. Mick has a point. A very good point.

"No matter what, it doesn't matter," Mick concludes. "You and me against the world, remember? That ain't changed."

Len nods, and turns his hands to squeeze Mick's hands back.

"Now for the love of fuck can we please stop talking about feelings?" Mick asks, almost begging. "You really don't pay me enough to be your shrink. You couldn't. You could offer me all of Fort Knox and I wouldn't be your shrink."

Len snorts, maybe a little wetly but not from tears because he doesn't do tears, and pulls back his hands. "Yeah, sure, we can stop. I think I hit my yearly quota of feelings there."

"No kidding," Mick says fervently. "You hit yours, and mine, and then mine again a few time. I'll let you off the hook this one time, just 'cause I know you've been saving it up the whole time I was out, but still, for someone who likes to say he don't got a heart, you sure got a hell of a lot to say. Oh, and don't think I didn't notice you slipping that 'ash' pun in there."

"Ash is the right word!" Len protests. "Just because it's fire-related don't mean it's always a pun!"

"With you, it's always a pun," Mick says firmly.

Len laughs. If it's a little more hysterical and sounds a bit more like sobs than it normally does, they'll both be more than willing to overlook that.

As they like to remind each other, they don’t have hearts – or at least they know to keep them well hidden.

(God, Mick is Len's best friend - how did he last so long without him? No wonder everything's been screwing up left and right while he's gone.)

"Hey, wait a minute," Mick says thoughtfully, "while we're talking about this shit, before we shove it all down the memory hole, tell me - how come you never had to turn me in? I did plenty of crimes while we were running as thieves."

"Were running?" Len echoes, alarmed, and he looks down at Mick's legs to see if something's happened to them in the last few minutes. The doctors told him Mick would get his mobility back, or at least most of it, and his legs aren't as affected as his back and shoulders. There should be no impact on his ability to run, or at least to walk quickly. Or does Mick know something he doesn't...?

"Yeah, I hear through the grapevine that you got yourself a new job," Mick says dryly. "Not much thieving to be done there. Plus I figure it might be time to retire from the whole thief thing myself, too, all things considered."

"Ah. Right. I forgot."

Metaphorically running, right, that's an option.

"Don't go forgetting you quitting crime, boss; it's a kinda big deal. You really got a business card like Skirt says?"

"Yeah, it's awful," Len says. "Stamped, embossed proof that I'm legit now."

"Embossed," Mick marvels. "Now I know I gotta retire, if you've shifted over to doing the hunting."

"I'm Internal Affairs, actually," Len says. "I only hunt corrupt cops, district attorneys, and other government employees, not criminals."

"Really? Huh. Shoulda known you'd find a loophole – crime-fighting without actual crime-fighting."

"What can I say? I'm very good at what I do," Len sniffs, smiling when Mick laughs - finally getting the double meaning that's always been there. "And, uh, about your crimes -"

"Yeah?"

"So, I might've registered you as a CI couple of years ago," Len confesses, deciding that exactly how many years constituted a couple was an open question up for debate. Couple could totally mean a decade plus. "Proper legal confidential informant for both the CCPD and the Feds. Then after a few years of that, I got you swapped over to being classified as full undercover -"

"Wait," Mick says, alarmed. "You telling me the reason all of my prison sentences were so short was 'cause the judges all thought I was a pig?!"

"You didn't care about the reason back then!"

"I'm a pig?!"

"No, you never went to police academy, you ain't a pig," Len says, rolling his eyes. "I told 'em you were working for me as a non-officer agent, and it ain't like they really care about a few arsons when they've got the whole set of Families to take down. You're a snitch at best."

Mick considers this.

"I'm okay with being a rat," he finally decides. "I like rats. They're cute. Remember Axl?"

Len does remember Mick's pet rat Axl. Mick doted on him, and even Len got pretty fond. They ended up having to find him a new owner - a woman with a gigantic rat cage that took up half the living room, which both she and Mick agreed was the right balance of pet-to-owner space (Len thought they were both nuts) - and he lived to a ripe old age with god-knows-how-many descendants.

"But seriously," Mick continues, "they actually all bought that? Didn't they ever ask you why I was willing to do all that work without being paid?"

"Well. Actually..."

"Boss. Boss, no. I know that tone of voice. You telling me I got paid? Is there some savings account somewhere with my name forged on it that you conveniently never told me about?"

"Maybe."

Mick rolls his eyes, grinning; he knows that's as good as a yes. "Anything else you'd like to tell me while we're at it?"

Len considers this. "...did Danvers' group-chat mention my cold gun?" he finally asks, reaching down and patting the piece in question. He'd been carrying it with him in case Barry tried to come confront him or something, though luckily Barry hasn't.

Barry wouldn't. He knows that, now that he's thinking a bit more calmly. Not at a hospital, certainly, but not ever. He wouldn't force his presence on Len like that, thinking he was unwanted.

"At length, yeah," Mick says dryly. "Your new baby."

"Well," Len says, ignoring that. So what if his gun is the best, sweetest girl he's ever seen, once you exclude Lisa from the calculations? "What Danvers doesn't know is that it came as part of a set - one cold gun, one heat gun."

"Heat gun? Like a flamethrower?"

"Better - it manipulates the intensity of infrared waves. You can light anything on fire."

"Boss," Mick says. "I've already forgiven you for the whole pig thing. You don't need to heap on the presents."

"You saying you don't want it?"

"You bet your ass I want it!" Mick exclaims, laughing. "Man, I'm gonna need to thank this Allen guy when I meet him; you never used to give out such good gifts."

Len flinches. Just a little, but Mick notices, of course.

"Boss?"

"You won't, uh, you won't exactly be meeting him," Len says. "Anytime...ever."

"Why not?"

"Because after I found out about the secret prison thing, I had his foster dad arrested for corruption, got warrants to search the homes of his two best friends, and got Barry suspended from his job without pay pending investigation. So I don't think he's really in the mood to talk to me."

"...shit, boss," Mick says after a long few minutes. "You sure love to put the 'over' in 'over-reaction', don't you?"

"They committed crimes," Len says defensively. "Very bad crimes. And they should've known better!"

"Boss! Ain't you the one always telling me about how intent matters? Ain't they being manipulated by some mastermind creep asshole who's good enough to be playing the Families? Even criminal courts don't consider stuff done under duress and deception to be as bad!"

Len winces. That's...not actually wrong. Sure, they committed some fairly horrific crimes and they totally should've known better, but there were some extenuating circumstances he probably ought've thought a bit more about. Any man who could play not just one but multiple Families clearly had an edge when it came to mind games - and don't think Len hasn't noticed the way Barry'd described the toxic atmosphere and emotional jibes and the almost parental relationship the guy set up in his office, which is the sort of environment that can convince even otherwise intelligent people to do seriously shady things.

It's not an excuse, not at all. But it is something of an explanation. Probably not enough to knock down the charge from primary to accessory, but a judge could definitely look at that and find lots there to help mitigate -

"Boss..."

"I know, I know! You don't understand, I was just really angry -"

"Boss!" someone that is definitely not Mick exclaims, bursting through the door. "We've found something!"

Len is off the bed, one crutch in the air wielded as a club, before they even finish the sentence, and then he realizes it's just Detective Thawne and Iris.

"Oh, it's you," he says blankly. "How'd you even know to find me here?"

"Uh," Thawne says, eying the raised crutch warily. "Ms. Danvers told us. Pretty reluctantly. You - wanna put that crutch down? You're looking a bit unsteady."

Len rolls his eyes and does, sitting back down.

"Does that work?" Iris asks. "As an improvised weapon, I mean?"

"Better than you'd think," Len says dryly.

"How come he's still got crutches, anyway?" Mick asks from his bed. "Ain't it been months since he got fucked up?"

"Apparently he keeps tearing his injuries back open," Iris says.

"Damnit, boss..."

"That's not the reason," Len says, even though he kind of does do that more than he should. "It's because the second gunshot nicked my spine and it takes lots longer to heal from that."

"And you keep tearing your injuries back open," Iris says wisely.

"...and that," Len concedes grumpily.

"I'm Iris," she adds, waving at Mick. "Iris West. This is my fiancé, Eddie Thawne. We're helping Captain Snart here investigate the disappearances -"

"Heard of you," Mick says, waving in the general direction of his phone. "Skirt – uh, Danvers – she’s got a group-chat with running commentary up -"

"I want in," Iris says at once. “That sounds amazing.”

"- but you said West, right? Didn't the boss here just..? Why you still working with him after that?"

"Because my dad deserves to get into trouble over this shit," Iris says, an angry glint in her eyes. "Between the lying and the deception and the blatant aiding and abetting of human trafficking, I'm starting to wonder if I ever really knew him at all -"

"Hold up," Len says. "Fiancé? That's new. Congrats, both of you."

That works splendidly to derail Iris, who spends the next few moments showing them both her ring while Thawne blushes and smiles and is entirely unable to look away from Iris, stars in his eyes the whole time.

"Nice," Len says. "Tasteful - pretty, but with some class."

"I'd definitely steal it," Mick agrees.

"Definitely," Len agrees. “I could fence that in minutes.”

"You're both very sweet," Iris says. "And if it ever goes missing, I'll be sure to check with you two first. Anyway, not the point! We came here to tell you that we've figured it out!"

"The Families' 'big day'?" Len asks, immediately interested. "Or Wells' connection to it?"

"Both, actually," Thawne says, brightening. "It's complicated and - well, a little frightening, but we think we have an idea of where the rabbit hole leads, at least, although I wouldn't go as far as Iris and say we actually figured it out."

"We got a good start," Iris says, with dignity. "That's further than most people've gotten."

"And you managed to do it without being 'disappeared', well done you," Len drawls.

"He means that as a compliment," Mick remarks.

"Yes, we gathered," Iris says, grinning at him. "Listen to the tone, not the words, right?"

"Sometimes the tone'll mislead you, but yeah, generally. I usually use body posture - the more lounging, the better his mood."

Len pointedly straightens back up, causing Iris to snigger, Thawne to smile, and Mick to chuckle.

"What's this about Families, though?" Mick asks. "Thought Snart was focused on corrupt cops and government people now."

"I'm sure I can find a police corruption hook somewhere," Len says airily. "You know what they say, you can take the boy out of org crime work..."

"Not a real saying, Snart," Mick says, long-suffering. "Never was."

"Actually, you might have more of a hook than we originally thought," Thawne says. "You see, the Families -"

"Plural?"

"That's right, Mr. Rory -"

"Mick."

"Mick," Iris says with relish. She's going to use this to try to get permission to call Len by his name, he just knows she is. Pity she's doomed to disappointment. "Yes, Families, plural; we've confirmed that all the Families in Central have agreed to work together on this."

"All of 'em? Shit."

"Agreed," Len says.

"Shoulda stayed in the coma..."

"Don't say shit like that or I'll smack you with a crutch," Len tells him, then transfers his attention back to the other two. "So what is it? What's the big day? And, perhaps equally important, when?"

"We can answer your last question best," Thawne says. "We're still not sure exactly what the Families are planning - we know it involves a lot of movement, a lot of manpower, though probably a lot of that is just security - but we've identified what the major Central-wide event they're going to use to conceal their mobilization."

"You're not going to like it," Iris interjects.

"I never liked any part of this," Len points out. "Hit me."

"The Families' big day goes down on Election Day," Thawne says.

"...Election Day," Len says. "Election Day. Election Day?!"

He's pretty sure he's not adequately conveying the sheer horror he's feeling right now.

Election Day.

Not the one held in November, which is all well and good, but the important one for Central City purposes: the primary election that happens each year in May.

The day where the real candidate selection takes place.

Only one of the wildest days of the entire Central City social calendar.

Most of the country has faded into widespread apathy, not bothering with votes that they feel rarely matter, and all the more so when it's "only" a primary – but not Central City.

Oh, no, not Central City, with its still-functioning political machine with its armies of thugs available to help 'encourage' voting. Central City's government might be rife with corruption, yes, and one-party control is practically a given, but at some point some genius decided to deal with the fact that there are competing sources of corruption by allowing a total free-for-all when it came to who got the nod for what position.

Corporate candidates battle it out with nationalists and progressives and reformers and who-the-hell-knows-what-else. In Central, even the communists abandon their flag in favor of competing in the bloodbath of Election Day, knowing that the political machine would force the city - and with it, the state - to fall into line come the federal election day, a far less important date.

Election Day.

And the Families are moving.

Not a good combination.

Especially since –

“Election Day is tomorrow!” he exclaims.

"Yeah," Iris says grimly. "Not good at all. Like Eddie says, we haven't figured out exactly what they're up to, but if it's on Election Day, dollars to donuts is that it involves the election itself."

"And with the Commissioner hoping to run for mayor while the mayor runs for governor, getting anyone's attention to doing anything to stop them will be a trick and a half," Len says, equally grim. "What'd you find out about Wells?"

"We think he's being used as a liaison between the Families and more legitimate entities," Thawne says. "Although why -"

He cuts off in the middle of his sentence.

Quite reasonably, in Len's view, given that they are no longer alone in the room.

The Man in Yellow is here.

The name Barry gave him is apt, Len thinks; far more than the Reverse Flash. Beyond the monstrous speed, there's nothing of Barry here at all, not even a reflection.

Standing in the middle of the room with his entire body vibrating at a consistent blur that Barry hasn't mastered, utterly human but for his demonically bright red eyes, the Man in Yellow smiles.

"Don't let me interrupt you, gentlemen," he says, his voice as blurred as his face. He's being obnoxiously courteous, in a sort of arrogant narcissist way that suggests he's entertaining himself in the moments before he plans to kill them all. "You were saying -"

"And lady," Len interrupts, rising to his feet.

"...what?"

"Gentlemen, and lady," Len says. "I believe Iris identifies as a lady."

"I do," Iris says, looking somewhat perturbed by Len's sudden interest in grammar. "‘Gentlemen and lady’ is in fact correct."

The Man in Yellow - Wells himself, or someone in his employ - blinks those shining red eyes, clearly taken aback.

Len assumes he had some sort of introductory speech planned out. Too bad for him that Len isn’t the type to willingly subject himself to evil monologues.

"Would you like to move on to the part where you threaten to kill us all?" Len inquires. "Or do you generally just go straight to the actual murder?"

The Man in Yellow laughs, the sound ringing through the room. "I usually like to make a point of it," he says, raising a vibrating hand. It's moving as fast as a sawblade - if he touches any of them with that, they're done for. "But I think you're right that I should just move on to the main event -"

Len shoots him with the cold gun he'd wrestled into position while the Man in Yellow was distracted by Len’s grammatical non-sequitur.

The Man in Yellow screams.

"Iris, Thawne, run!" Len shouts, keeping the cold blast aimed dead center at the Man in Yellow's face and torso. He'd theorized, based on what happened when it hit Barry, that a hit straight to the head would be disabling to a speedster as long as the beam was maintained; with such key areas targeted, the speedster's body would prioritize healing the damage over anything else, robbing them of the presence of mind they would need to either run away or attack.

"Come with us!" Iris shouts back.

Len centers his legs, which have started shaking, and exhales through his nose. He needs both hands to aim the gun properly - two hands, which leaves none for his crutches; that's why he's been using the braces whenever he's gone out as Captain Cold. Still, all that PT is finally coming in handy: even without crutches, he can stand.

But not for long.

The second he falls back to sit on the bed, his hands will slip, and the beam will drift off target - only by a little, only for a second, but that's all the Man in Yellow will need to escape.

If he tries to leave, he might be able to keep the beam on him until he reaches the door -

But there's one person in the room who can't leave.

"I ain't leaving Mick," he shouts back. "Get out of here! Find a place to hide!"

Even at superspeed, hiding would force the Man in Yellow to look for them - they certainly can't hope to outrun him.

"You get out too!" Mick snaps even as Iris nods jerkily and hurries out, urged on by Thawne. "Boss -"

"I ain't picking something over you again and that's final!"

"Damnit, Len -"

Len's legs give out.

The Man in Yellow darts out of the beam, snarling in rage, his face - and it does look like Wells under what little is left of that mask, or the pictures Len's seen of him - still covered in ice and burned by swiftly healing frostbite.

And then there's a swift wind.

Len closes his eyes, expecting to die so quickly that he doesn't have time to question it - or perhaps to be taken to be tortured, if that's more Wells' speed -

Heh, speed.

Wait a second.

He hasn't been moved - his side would've been protesting if he had - and he's not dead, because he feels moderately sure he wouldn't be around to continue sniggering at puns if he was.

He opens his eyes.

The room is empty.

Wells is gone -

- but so is Mick.

"Mick!" Len cries out, even though he knows it's futile. The Man in Yellow has him.

Wells has his Mick.

"Snart!" Iris cries out, bursting into the room. There are tears of terror and rage streaming down her cheeks. "Snart - he took Eddie! I saw him - the red lightning! He took Eddie!"

"He took Mick, too," Len says, barely able to process it. He just got Mick back - he just fucking got Mick back after nearly losing him to people who hurt Mick because of Len, and here it is, happening all over again.

Mick wouldn't have been a target to the Families if it wasn't for Len, and what he did and who he was.

Mick wouldn't have been a target to the Man in Yellow, if it wasn't for Len's investigation.

Mick -

Mick, who is still bedridden, who is still hospital-bound, who will die if he didn't have the treatment he needed -

Mick is gone.

[statusquoergo]

tl;dr: WHAT. THE. FUCK.

Buckle up, everyone, this is one hell of a ride.

Open on Harvey entering the living room just as Donna’s getting off the phone with her father, plus two cups of coffee to set us up for this delightfully domestic exchange:

“Is that for me?” “Why, yes it is. A handsome coffee for my handsome man.” “What do you want?” “Why do I have to want something to give you a compliment?” “You don’t, but you do. You know you’re not the only one who can do that.” “You heard me on the phone with my father, didn’t you?” “Okay, you’re the only one who can do that.”

So…here’s the thing about this. Harvey and Donna have known each other for nineteen-ish years. They’ve been dating for, at most, a few weeks. Every single time they’ve talked about their relationship status, it’s been in glowing terms; “I’m finally where I’m supposed to be,” “We both are” (s09e01), “She’s the most important person in my life” (s09e02), etc. Now Donna is gearing up to propose an activity that’s important to her that she knows Harvey won’t want to do—she wants to tell her father that they’re a couple—and her lead-in is…preparing him a cup of coffee and calling him handsome. If she’s trying to butter him up, that’s some pretty weak sauce, and if not…

Harvey responding to such a gesture by asking what she wants is a red flag all on its own (he’s suspicious when she does things for him, even something as small as a cup of coffee), but since he heard her on the phone, I’m gonna give this one a pass. The real problem lies where it always does on this show: Lack of communication. Harvey and Donna have been incredibly close friends for nineteen years and she knows how important family is to him; this is a serious thing that she knows she’s going to get some resistance to, she should be able to ask him to mend fences with her father without making it some kind of game. Instead she resorts to a tactic more reminiscent of a teenager easing the way for a bad report card than a romantic partner seeking a personal favor, and I know that being a couple is different from being friends, but they’ve known each other for so long, she should have a better sense of how to handle this kind of thing. (Then again, this is Donna of “accost Harvey in the dead of night and kiss him to figure out my romantic uncertainty even though I know he has a girlfriend and is terrified of becoming unfaithful” fame, so maybe I shouldn’t be surprised.)

Lest you think I’m making mountains out of molehills, the conversation ends with her dismissal to “Put [his] big boy pants on and find [them] a restaurant, or [her] father won’t be the only Paulsen [he has] to worry about.” So. Like. The “partnership” aspect of this partnership is really coming along.

We’re afforded the opportunity to wash our hands of this unpleasantness with a mostly-good exchange between Faye and Katrina, during which Faye requests her to adapt a new code of conduct for the firm and my only little nitpick is that Faye declares that she made the right decision in assigning the task to Katrina after Katrina says she’ll only do it if Faye accepts her draft “wholesale or not at all,” which just seems like a weird thing for Faye to want her to demand. Then Alex has an eight-years-ago flashback to flesh out that whole “Tommy Bratton framed him for covering up a murder conspiracy at Danbury” thing from Season 7 as some guy named Craig, who was apparently a coworker of Alex’s during his time at Bratton Gould, shows up in the present day to put the screws to him to accept an offer already on the table in Specter Litt Wheeler Williams’ case against Panasonic (Panasonic, really?) in exchange for not letting Alex’s involvement “get out.” Alex seems surprised by this development, but it sure does explain those stoical looks he’s been putting on at random foreshadowy intervals this season.

I think the next scene is supposed to be some kind of comic relief as Louis storms into a conference room and lets loose a generic and expletive-laden rant against the bewildered man and woman seated at the table; they inform him that they’re Susan’s parents, and he quickly backpedals with some “this is how not to behave” bullshit and tells them his name is Alex Williams. This would be hideously inappropriate behavior even if they were opposing counsel on whatever case he thought he was handling; the moment Louis opened with “Alright, you sons of bitches,” I was sure it was another one of his delusional episodes, but no, apparently he’s just got terrible business etiquette. Not to worry, though, because all of this is just a means to segue into Louis moaning to Gretchen that he needs her back because his current temp, Norma’s granddaughter Norma III, is grossly incompetent.

Back to the A plot. Donna and her father are out to breakfast where she giddily divulges her relationship status, and Mr. James Paulsen greets the news a little more tepidly than she was expecting. She prompts him to voice his misgivings, and he says that from everything she’s told him over the years, Harvey sounds like a pretty selfish guy. (Which of course begs the question of what she’s been telling him, but I don’t think we’re going to dwell on that. Also James has met him; he can form his own firsthand opinion.) In another example of truly stellar communication skills, Donna exclaims that she told Harvey her father would be happy for her when she told him about them (point of order, she said he would be happy for them), and he asks if they can start the breakfast over. She mutters a petulant “Sure, Dad. Sure,” and that’s all we’re going to get of that for now.

Flashback alert: It seems that the History of Craig is that he really, really wanted the Masterson account that Bratton gave to Alex (to frame him for covering up the conspiracy) and they had a falling out when Alex didn’t tell him about it. In the present day, Alex asks Samantha to take the deal in the Panasonic case because Craig is his friend, but she immediately figures out that this is about the Masterson thing (which he thought “had gone away,” so maybe all those thousand yard stares were about something else) and tells him to tell Rosalie the whole story.

Faye shows up in Donna’s office for a little plot integration, calling to attention the fact that it’s “a clear conflict” for “two of the five members of management [to] have undue influence over each other”; as Harvey is a senior partner, his vote is more important than Donna’s (which is exactly what I said), but if he wants to give up his vote, that’s fine with her as long as they’re not both going to have one. Far be it from me to laud Suits for not being sexist, but this is a decent, if probably accidental, little sidestep; as COO, Donna is less important to the firm than Harvey the senior partner, but Faye’s problem isn’t that Donna has a voice at the managerial table, it’s that two of the managers are dating and their impartiality is potentially compromised. We’ve even seen an example of this play out already when Harvey sided with Donna against Louis when he tried to fire Benjamin; they talked it out, yeah, but it happened once and it could easily happen again. Good for Faye.

Donna, it may not surprise you to learn, does not so much share this perspective. Harvey pops in to ask her how breakfast with her father went and she takes the opportunity to wildly misplace her anger as she bemoans the fact that she wants a relationship with someone who gets along with her father, and then bitches at Harvey for not telling his mother about them yet. She closes out with the denouement that if he’s really willing to put her first, he’ll fix his relationship with her father, and if he can’t, her father might be right that they shouldn’t be together.

What is this, the fourth time so far in this episode alone that a lack of communication has caused major problems for these people? I’m getting sick of this trope, guys, what else you got?

I’m already regretting that question as Louis accosts Katrina in the women’s restroom (yes, the women’s restroom) to demand that she include a rider in the new code of conduct putting personnel reassignments under the purview of the name partners. Katrina quite correctly points out that this belongs in the bylaws, but promises she’ll think about it.

Suits continues its developing trend of trying to cram as many returning guest stars as possible into this season as Harvey calls Lily to tell her that, one, Donna was the “very special person” credited with their reconciliation back in Season 6; two, they’re seeing each other; and three, “[he hasn’t] exactly told her yet, but she’s the one.” Lily congratulates him, having learned about Donna from Marcus; seems they’re both big fans, how cute. Harvey admits that he and Donna’s father have bad blood, and Lily tells him to make a gesture to demonstrate his generous heart.

Back up a second.

Harvey and Donna have been friends for nineteen years. They spent about eighteen years and eleven months of that time going out of their way to clarify that they weren’t a couple and/or that they knew they were better off as friends. A big emotional event abruptly convinced Harvey that he wants to be with her. Three-ish weeks later, their relationship has hardly been smooth sailing, and now, on the heels of yet another miscommunication-laden spat, out of fucking nowhere, Donna is “the one,” and apparently has been for at least a little while.

What the fuck is going on?

No, I’m serious. This relationship, rife with conflict, has shot along at lightning speed. They’re apparently spending more nights together than not, but as far as I can tell, they’ve been on one date (which started off super awkwardly, by the way), and suddenly she’s Harvey’s soulmate. His bossy, confrontational, unforthcoming soulmate. Am I really supposed to believe that this, this is what Harvey’s been looking for all his life? Or is it just that pounds upon pounds of external pressure have convinced him that it should be?

Food for thought.

Oncoming B plot: Eight years ago, Alex told Rosalie about the Masterson thing while it was going on, but apparently he never got around to the kompromat part, because back in the present day, he’s finally coming clean about all of it, including Craig’s current attempt to blackmail him. Rosalie is not a fan of either the original event or the fact that he took so long to tell her about it, which, yeah, that’s fair.

Part II

[paradisobound]

The End is Also the Beginning

Summary: It’s the end of the Mumbai show. Although Dan is bittersweet with endings, Phil knows that he’s going to make their show not only the ending to an era, but the beginning to a new one as well. 

Written for the @phandomficfests: Tour Fest! 

Word Count: 1.2k 

Rating: Teen

Warnings: This fic contains Interactive Introverts spoilers! 

This work is a side by side fic with @phloridas fic that can be found here :)

A/N: I’m super excited to share this with everyone since I really wanted to do a cheesy fic like this for the fic fest! haha Special thanks to my lovely group chat and to @moon-boye, @knlalla, @freckliephil, and @laddyplester for all being great beta’s for this fic and nit-picking it just enough to make this fic amazing in the end! Thank you all again! :) 

It’s been nearly five months since their tour had begun, and there was so much that had happened in those five months that made a lifetime of memories from them. They started in Brighton, just a short distance from their home city, and now they’re about to perform their last show in Mumbai. To say it was bittersweet would be a complete understatement.

The tour itself wasn’t bittersweet, but the ending of this chapter of their lives was. Dan had felt the sadness and post-tour-depression woes  to dawn on him as soon as they touched down in Mumbai. After today, there would be no more constant shows. No more meeting fans all of the time. No more performances. No more Interactive Introverts.

The thought made him sad.

When they had started planning Interactive Introverts, it seemed like a far-fetched idea that would never work. They had been just lying in bed that day, post-sex (but no one needed to know that), when Phil spewed out the words ‘I wanna do another tour’. They brainstormed random and silly ideas back and forth with each other until Dan had jokingly said ‘maybe we should just ask our audience what they would want’. Nearly instantly, the tour was born.

When the tour started, it was bumpy. They made a few slip ups, like being caught in the fact that they made the London show and the Glasgow show exactly the same. And also the time Dan fell on his ass on his stage and nearly cried. Or when Dan was on the wheel being sacrificed and he called Phil a ‘dick’ in front of the audience of their young viewers and some parents. And then there was also that one time where Dan forgot his lines, laughed, and then snorted into the microphone (turns out some viewers had filmed that, cheeky little shits).

But now, they’re in the interval for their last show and Dan is feeling it in his chest. The weight of how this was the last time they’d be performing the second half of the show was heavy. He was gearing up to be on the wheel—like he’d been for majority of these shows—and he was zipping up the plastic suit. Phil was stood back, scrolling on his phone and looking at all of the tags for the show, checking out what everyone was saying.

“Apparently, everyone is loving the fact that you got to be a furry in the simulation portion.”

Dan scoffed. “Ha. Ha. Very funny that my tail got caught in the door and I slipped and died. Very. Unfortunate.”

Phil chuckled, doing his weird tongue thingy that Dan loved so much, even though he liked to pick on it as well. “At least you didn’t end up in hell with the danandphilcrafts version of yourself.”

“Hm…don’t know. I’ve probably got a golden seat embellished with my name already waiting for me down there.”

In the background, the beginning of The Final Countdown started playing and Dan sighed. Show time. He needed to get up on the wheel…for the last time.

* * *

It was getting to be the end of the show. Dan was poised at his piano behind the screen as Phil finished up his diss track. He had his fingers already sitting on the keys so he could start playing as soon as Phil said his cue.

Then he heard it.

The screen opens and there is smoke: Dan always did want to make a dramatic entrance. As he begins to play, he sees Phil stood there on the side of the stage, his backwards cap making him look like a dork. But he was Dan’s dork.

He begins to sing. He thinks his voice is trembling slightly and he hopes no one else can hear it. These lyrics mean a lot to him. They’re the story of he and Phil and he likes being able to tell people about it.

He continues to sing, people are laughing, some are singing along. He can hear it all and it’s making him emotional that this is the last time he’ll ever sing this song for others. Then he stops and looks up for a split second to Phil sitting on the piano.

He loves how Phil glows in this light, so calm and so poised as he watches him.

Dan loves him so much.

And then it’s their duet. Dan knows that they’re not in sync, nor are they harmonised. But he stills loves singing along with Phil. He always has. Even when they’re in their kitchen and singing along to the songs of Mamma Mia at three AM while wine drunk.

And then the duet is over, and people are clapping and cheering. And everything is done. It’s over. They’re over. The show is over. Dan feels like he could cry. Maybe he is? He feels kind of numb right now.

But then the cheering stops and there are some gasps coming from the audience. He’s confused. Why is that? Did something set on fire? He doesn’t smell smoke.

He looks around because he’s honestly confused until he sees it and his hands come up to his mouth in shock. In front of him, there was Phil, on one knee, with a black velvet box opened to show a beautiful black band glimmering under the light.

“Dan, I’ve been wanting to do this for so long and I have been struggling to find the correct time.” He hears Phil begin. “We’ve become more open and we’ve agreed that we wanted to make ourselves more known and our relationship more visible. That was the whole point of our lives this past year, right? I’ve loved you since I first met you, and I’ve known for these past ten years that I wanted to marry you and spend the rest of my life with you.” Phil’s voice was now choked up, and Dan could feel some stray tears coming down his cheeks as well. “Will you marry me?”

Dan’s answer is immediate. It comes out a little bit choked but he manages a “yes!” pretty quickly before sliding off his piano seat and throwing his arms around Phil. They don’t kiss because he isn’t ready to show that level of PDA yet. But they do hold each other as the audience cheers and whistles. He lets Phil place the ring on his finger and it’s a little bit big, but they’ll worry about the resizing later.

He looks down and he’s in shock. The black band stands out against his complexion and he has no words. As he stands up, with Phil beside him, they wave their goodbyes to the fans and Dan can’t help but stare at the glimmering black on his left ring finger. As they stand in the back, waiting for the screen to close, he takes Phil’s hand in his and he smiles widely.

This is definitely an end of an era for them, but it’s also the beginning of a more amazing one as well. Up next: house shopping, wedding planning, and dog adopting.

But that can wait after they spend the next few days in a haze of love as they travel around Mumbai.

[youravgnri-blog]

Day 1; How do I really feel?

She asked me, what went wrong? I answered, “Everything”, even the slightest of my pain demanded to be felt.

All it takes for a day to go from ‘the-best-fucking-day-in-the-world’ to ‘what-a-miserable-life’ is just, a few text messages, a few embarrassing moments at school, or just feeling homesick, missing every friend. When I look back, I spent my best time in India. No tensions, no setbacks, come home to grandparents, spend some time weeing around, go to sleep at 9, and start the next day and repeat. I had great friends, the ones that I valued, and the ones that valued me. They still do, but as the distance between us increases, there is a wall between us that starts stretching upwards.

Being misogynistic has one perk for sure, you don’t get to talk to girls. Now unless you’re really horny, it’s a valuable time which you can actually spend together. I once loved a girl… I still do, but my feelings are deteriorating at a rate still slower than what she used to discard me off her list. Once upon a time, I was her top priority, she would reply when I didn’t even complete my text. Now, I sit next to my phone, 48 hours, no text. Is she studying? No, I saw her like her ex-crush’s (yeah that when you’re dating someone else) photo. I do not understand girls. If being chivalric has taught me any lesson, it has to go down the worst alleys, the likes of which I wouldn’t ask the almighty to show it to even my enemies.

Don’t you just look at the sky, when life’s flying blue, and then become envious of how your friends have been living under the green? Well, one moment life’s good, the other, it is a mess of the most complex shit you would have never imagined it to be. Just the fact that I miss out so much in social life irritates me. Unable to go to the trip, my desire to socialise which is upturned by the fact that everyone has been in the district for at least the past 10 years together and everyone has friends and no one wants an Indian kid who doesn’t smoke doesn’t do drugs and does not have airpods, this fact, literally destroys me from the inside. People can be so materialistic at times. I feel like punching their faces. Andrew, fuck you. The guy who makes fun of my inability to articulate in American accent, fuck you. My vocabulary is at least a thousand times better than your “oh my god’s” and “like you know”. Shut the fuck up, each time you say ‘what?’ when I say something doesn’t make you superior than me. In the end, I know at least 2 languages more than you, and you investing in Uber stock isn’t gonna make you a millionaire. The hard work counts, it’s the determination, not just tapping your mobile screen and making money out of it.

At the age of fourteen, I decided I would become an engineer. “Who is an engineer?”, my grandfather would ask. I will have an uncomfortable smile on my face, not knowing the answer, but knowing that he will know it. “He’s the one who can solve any problem in the world”. I intervene, “Would you be happy if I became one?”. “I’ll always be happy in whatever you do”, he exclaimed. Solve any problem in the world, huh?  Well at this point in time, there’s at least a thousand  problems that I can’t solve.

I grew up with my grandparents in India. Both parents worked hard for my future and their future, although they didn’t expect to fight in a random country 8000 miles from home in a land where their kind is a mere one percentage. Anyways, my point is, I miss them. Two drops of tears land on my laptop’s touchpad and I wipe them off. The only scenario where I’m making them proud is at least the dream of studying abroad and that too, dada’s favourite field, engineering. But when I called them yesterday, they said, “We really wish you were here”, and that broke me from the inside. Vulnerable, I wept on the pillow and slept next to my dad.

At school, I have no interest in attending any subjects. My grades are mostly all A’s, but they don’t matter to me. I sit mostly with Aadhar at lunch or in Study Hall, but his AP schedule keeps him busy nine times out of ten. Another good friend is Rishab in my Computer Science class, actually fun guy to talk with and hang around with, but he’s got other friends too. There’s some friends that I do have, but we don’t really talk, that, well. Calculus is fucking horrendous. It feels like a factory just mass producing people who can find the area of y=1-x2 over the interval [2,4]. There is no socializing, well, only for me. The whole class is divided such that each person has a partner. Well, since I moved in November, I don’t have one. I basically revolve around each day with new partners. We are always awkward, because we are not each other’s partner. I do have a friend in Calculus class, but she sits at the far left side while I do at the far right right in front of Mr Cornell’s table. It reminds me of my distance from my home.

Some friends in PE make life easier, it really is a place where I can socialize a little. I sit behind someone during squads and roll call. She makes me feel that the world is still full of hope, and it is never lost. She is a great friend, and I really want to be friends with her. Considering what happened when I told my best friend about my feelings for her on December 23, 2017, My life has become a rollercoaster with no brakes accessible to me.

Aashka Pandya. Who knows twenty years from now whether she’ll be sleeping next to the bed with me, or just be a name that would give me goosebumps. I hoped for the former since we had a thing, but not anymore. For me, it doesn’t take a while deteriorating feelings for someone. It’s really very easy for me, or at least I believe it is. A guy, when undergoes a break up, starts getting into trouble. Enter; Drinking, Insomnia, Drugs and what the fuck not. All it takes for me is just one weep. Go to the shower, write that person’s name in the vapor on the glass, and put a big cross signifying that they do not affect my senses anymore. There’s a lot of me you don’t know about. There’s more that I don’t know about myself, and there’s some that I will never discover. But one I sure know, is that I’m not a very emotional person, I tend to takes thing emotionally like all human beings, but I do not feel love and care. I am ready to discard a person if he/she has something against me, and I’m very stubborn. But if life taught me one lesson from people who intend to hurt you, it’s gonna be the motto, “Being Stubborn is better than Being Understanding, at least you don’t get hurt in the action.”

[handfulofsky]

So @actiaslunaris came up with an Elementary prompt that I just couldn’t resist (the first line of the story, to be specific) and @joaneuglassiawatson helped pimp it.  Partial spoilers through early season 6. Unabashedly Joanlock, rated T.   1/1

Notice

“I’ve made you aroused. Why?”

Sherlock’s question is casually phrased, but it crashes through what had been a comfortable silence between them and rocks her completely out of her reverie. “I, uh—“

I don’t know what you’re talking about,

she wants to say. But that’s not fair to either of them, and, although he would likely drop the subject, the lie would continue to hover between them indefinitely.

The truth is far from simple. Joan’s been watching him like a hawk ever since he first revealed his post-concussion syndrome to her, and she still feels a little guilty for not putting the pieces together earlier. He suffered needlessly and in silence, and the doctor in her has been taking note of his symptoms almost obsessively ever since. He’s tried to take a less active role in their investigations, but Sherlock’s never been the type to skate around the edges of a mystery—he leans in for all he’s worth—and it’s been up to her to see that he doesn’t overbalance and fall flat in the process.

Maybe that’s how it all started; or maybe it started a long time ago, and she was loath to acknowledge it. But she’s been keeping a close eye on him, and she can’t help liking what she sees. Not the pain, of course, or his frustration with the limits placed on his activities, but she’s far more physically aware of him than she used to be.

The eyes that she looks to for early warning signs of a change in his condition are clear, focused, and ever-changing, ranging anywhere from gray to green depending on the lighting and his clothing choices for the day. But they droop with fatigue more often than they used to, and the tiny wrinkles around them deepen when the headaches begin in earnest. He’ll close them when the pain gets bad and cover them entirely when it’s excruciating, and she thinks it’s probably just as well that he can’t see her fists curl in frustration at her inability to help him.

Sleep poses problems as well. He still needs more of it than he used to, although it’s typically broken into intervals of an hour or two here and there. His shoulders hunch awkwardly when he gets overstimulated and needs a break, so she’s become adept at reading his body language before he can reach that point of discomfort. Urging him to put his head down for a few minutes (she’s scattered throw pillows over all the sofas) usually results in him being able to nap or at least breathe deeply for a few minutes until the worst has passed. Sometimes she puts her work aside and takes advantage of the opportunity to study him. Like those of most people, his features soften while he’s relaxed. His lashes look longer when they’re resting just above his cheekbones, and his lips, so often pursed in thought, twisted in contempt, or pressed together tightly with resolution, are smooth and full above the ever-present stubble dotting his chin.

He’s been working with the single stick more than he used to as well. The exercise is good for him, but he’s taken it too far a time or two and experienced headaches brought on by overexertion. She now makes it a point to check in on him every time she hears the slapping sounds of wood hitting plastic resonating through the brownstone. Sometimes he wears an undershirt, but more often than not she finds him wearing nothing but a low-slung pair of sweatpants and a fine sheen of sweat over his back and chest. He’s always been lean, but the increased workouts have left new accumulations of muscle and sinew standing out like whipcord beneath and between the tattoos. Even when he’s fully clothed, she can see the effect of the exercise in the way he moves. He’s never been clumsy, but he moves with the control and grace of a dancer now. On his good days, at least.

And when, just a few moments ago, she glanced at his hands to check for any signs of tremor, she also realized just how fine and articulate they are, especially the strong, slim fingers that are equally at home wrapped around a singlestick or a lockpick. Those hands were resting atop the arms of his chair while he studied the crime scene photos plastered on the wall, and his thumbs were idly stroking circular patterns against the upholstery. The thought welled up in her without warning—unbidden, but decidedly not unwelcome—

How would they feel on my skin?

Even as startling as the idea was, she couldn’t let it go. Maybe more to the point, she really didn’t want to. And it hadn’t taken him long to recognize that and call her on it.

She clears her throat and starts over again.

“Because you’re...” What? Beautiful? Strong? Brave, intelligent, remarkable in ways she’s only now beginning to appreciate? All of those, really. And more.

“Because you’re you, Sherlock.” 

He snorts dismissively, but not unkindly, and gives her a sad little self-deprecating smile. “Some days more than others. One could make the argument that simply being me, as it were, is not considered by most people to be a positive thing.”

“Of course it is,” she blurts out. She’s a doctor, and well-versed in worst-case scenarios. His symptoms could’ve been caused by an aneurysm, a blood clot, a tumor—treatable conditions, of course, but the thought of someone using a knife inside that brain makes her sick to her stomach. The fact that he’s still himself in all the ways that matter is nothing short of an absolute miracle, and the sudden surge of emotion blurs her vision and constricts her throat, but not enough to keep her from whispering, “It’s everything.”

“Watson?” He stands and crosses the room, stopping directly in front of her perch on the sofa before bending at the waist and looking intently into her brimming eyes. “Are you...” He rocks back and forth on his heels for a moment as though he’s concerned about offending her.  “Are you flesh, or are you phantasm?”

She gets to her feet, not caring that the motion makes the tears finally spill over the edges of her eyelids. “Would anything I say really convince you?”

“I suppose not. My mother was very... realistic. I fear I can no longer fully trust my own eyes, nor my ears.” He waves a hand toward her body. “If I may...?”

“Of course.” She welcomes his touch, wants him to know that her thoughts and feelings are just as real as she is, so she steps well inside his personal space to facilitate that contact.

He bends over towards her and she sucks in a quick breath in unconscious anticipation of a kiss, but instead, he lowers his face into the space just above her shoulder, nuzzling lightly against her hair. The perfume she dabbed there this morning has largely diffused, but she still catches a whiff of it occasionally, and it seems that he’s reassured when he finds it as well. Then he turns his head just far enough so that his lips brush against the line of her jaw and her breath catches at the fleeting caress. When he straightens again, she sees the dot of moisture at the corner of Sherlock’s mouth vanish as his tongue edges out to capture the stray tear. He nods almost imperceptibly at the salt tang, and Joan shudders at the raw intimacy of the moment.

His fingers reach hesitantly for the knot of her tie, and this time his hands really are trembling as they loosen the knot and then remove the fabric altogether, tossing it onto the couch behind her. He gazes questioningly into her eyes once more time, sees her consent, and proceeds to undo the top button of her blouse. It’s a recent purchase, and his brow furrows a little at the stiffness of the material as he undoes another. Then a third. And just as Joan begins to wonder just how far he intends to go in order to verify her existence, he slides a warm hand into the opening of her shirt, resting the heel of it against her sternum with his fingers splayed across the skin directly above her carotid artery.

They stand there silently with her heart literally in the palm of his hand; it’s beating out a rhythm as strong and as steady as the course of their friendship. He tilts his head back as his eyes close, but she’s seen that look on his face often enough to know that it’s not resignation but recognition—that sudden, magical moment when all the disparate pieces fall into place and the mystery ceases to be.

She takes his wrist and presses his hand even more firmly against her body. “So what’s the verdict?”

His eyes fly open and focus intently on hers, and she watches, mesmerized, as the the dark pupils shrink rapidly into the hazel irises. He looks more than a little stunned, and she knows her expression must match his.  

“You are indeed flesh, Watson, as well as fidelity personified.”

“How so?” She wanted his skin on hers even before she had any idea how good it would feel. Now that his investigation is concluded, he’ll likely withdraw again, and she steels herself against the loss of that touch as she reluctantly releases his arm.

Instead, he’s content to leave his hand where it is, and his thumb resumes the sweeping motion she’d noticed earlier, only now it slides along the curve of her collarbone, dipping briefly beneath the strap of her bra before making the return journey—back and forth, warm and gentle, the motion slowing slightly even as the pace of her breathing picks up.

“You told me that being myself wasn’t just a good thing, but, to use your word, everything. And in that particular moment, I was able to see myself the way that you see me. I wasn’t just an addict with relationship issues and odd synapses that insist on firing at random intervals. In your eyes, I was whole.”

“You always have been.”

“Not to anyone else,” he says gently. “Not to myself, especially in my current condition. Make no mistake, I’ve known for quite some time that you value our relationship, that it’s grounded in mutual respect and trust. But then to suddenly realize that you might want something more? It’s truly been an evening full of epiphanies.” The smooth glide of his skin against hers slows even further before finally stopping entirely, but thankfully, it seems as though he’s in no hurry to break their contact.

“I didn’t try to hide this from you,” she explains. “I just never really realized it until now.” As much as it pains her to have to say them, her next words are of vital importance because she knows from experience that he will do just about anything to keep their partnership together. “And I need you to understand—I would never want anything more from our relationship than you’re willing to give.”

He shakes his head a little and smiles, as though she’s said something amusing. “Willing isn’t the word I would choose, Watson. Eager would be more apt. Perhaps now that our eyes have been opened, maybe even bordering on desperate?”

Sherlock finally pulls his hand away from her heated skin, but before she can begin to feel bereft, he plucks at her placket, quickly undoing the remaining buttons. She makes quick work of his shirt as well, and, within moments, the entirety of their respective wardrobes is scattered around the study.

His eyes darken and take on a dangerous gleam as they reach for each other.  The shoulders she admired while she watched him practice are firm and supple beneath her hands, and when he finally kisses her, his mouth is a revelation:  full, warm lips, softer than she expected, and a little reserved, right up until she teases his tongue out with her own. His hands are restless, constantly moving, stroking, igniting sensations she couldn’t possibly have imagined a scant few minutes ago.  She never told him about that first stray thought that she had entertained—the one that started this cascade of desire and emotion.  But it seems as though he recognized it anyway and is intent on answering her question just the same.  As always, she’s more than happy to let him.

fin