#given how she's literally held together with tape i think i should be happy this thing even switches on lol

[itsza]

made a gaon gif!!!

this one at 100% speed

and this one at 150% speed!

[hanatiny]

Back For Seconds

a/n: been working on this one for longer than I’d like to admit but here it is, finally - happy birthday to my favorite Gemini boy, Yeosang <3 (and to @yunhoiseyecandy​, since she happens to share a bday with him c:)

pairing: Yunho x genderneutral!reader x Yeosang

genre: fluff, smut

word count: 2816

warnings: established poly relationship, mentions of food, threesome, sub Yeosang, switch reader, soft dom Yunho, first time, praise, making out, pet names, slight corruption kink, oral (m receiving) swearing, voyeurism, master kink (only mentioned twice), masturbation, orgasm denial, consensual sex taping, implications of unprotected sex, implications of overstimulation

-----

To put it simply, the surprise you and Yunho had been planning for Yeosang’s birthday hasn’t been going quite according to how it should have.

Most if not all of your friends hung up on you when you asked them for help, making up some nonsensical excuse for you to believe while you made a mental note to go and get yourself some new, more reliable friends.

You huffed in annoyance, dropping your phone on the pillow as your bottom lip jutted out in a small pout.

Although understanding of your frustration, your tall puppy-like boyfriend couldn’t resist the urge to peck your cheek lovingly before sitting down next to you on the bed.

“Wanna talk about it?” Yunho asked gently, worried about how agitated you had become within the past approximately 20 minutes.

“I just want to make everything nice and pretty for Sangie’s surprise, and apparently no one I know is available to help. Woo can only keep him occupied for so long...”

“I understand, bun~” You smiled affectionately at the pet name Yunho used as he spoke, “But you know that our Sangie will love having even just us around, right? He’s never been much of a party person.”

“I do know, I just wanna make it extra special since it’s the first birthday he’s celebrating where we’re all together... I want it to be memorable for him, Yunnie.”

“Y/n, look at me.” When you refused the request, Yunho pouted and gently pulled you to sit on his lap, “Sangie will be happy either way because we love him and he loves us. Okay?”

“Okay.” You nodded in response, wrapping your arms around his shoulders in a warm embrace to assure him.

It was then that you perked up, a light knock against the wooden door frame catching your attention followed by a quiet voice, “You guys... can I ask why there’s these little bottles of flavored milk,” Yeosang held up one of the bottles in question for clarification as you and Yunho blinked at him sheepishly, “all over the living room? I enjoy them and I know you do too, but...”

He trailed off, and you understood that he wanted an explanation.

“We- mostly I, admittedly- wanted to make your special day actually, well, special, so I was planning a mini party but no one other than Yun was available to help so it wasn’t done in time.” You confessed with a pout, looking over at the slightly younger of your two boyfriends while his own eyes flickered between you and Yunho.

Yeosang pondered his answer for a moment before walking over to you and crouching in front of you, his hand reaching to tuck some of your hair behind your ear after you had turned to face him.

“Honey,” it was ironic of him to use that pet name, you mused, considering that it was exactly what his soft voice sounded like, “you know as well as our sweet Yunho does that I’m not exactly a party person. So it’s okay, I truthfully didn’t expect you to even have anything planned. I’m just happy to have you both here with me...~”

Yeosang beamed sincerely at you, and you couldn’t help but crack a smile at the sight as well before pouting when Yunho poked your cheek.

“I’m not saying ‘I told you so’ or anything but... I kinda did, baby.”

Yeosang raised a questioning eyebrow at the two of you, merely chuckling when you huffed playfully at the older.

“Well,” he started as he stood, “these aren’t gonna drrink themselves, are they? First one on the couch gets to pick the movie, last one needs to take care of snacks~”

He giggled, the sound a melodious one that you could never quite get enough of, as he turned on his heel and swiftly made his way to the living room of your shared apartment.

It took you a moment to process the situation before you jumped to your feet and rushed to follow Yeosang, all while calling out to him with a pout, “No fair~ You had a headstart!”

"Not my fault, is it~?" Came the soft chuckle in response as Yunho merely shook his head in amusement, taking his time in getting up and making his way to the kitchen to take care of your guys' snacks.

That was how it usually ended up going on your movie nights together, with either you or Yeosang choosing the movies you would all watch while Yunho tended to be in charge of what you’d eat.

With the cake he had bought for the younger's birthday in his hands, he couldn't but smile when he found the two of you curled up next to each other with you threading your hand through Yeosang’s hair.

“Hey now,” Yunho cooed lowly so he wouldn’t scare either of you, “don’t hog all of the blankets, you two. I want some too, y’know~”

“You have no room to talk Yunnie, you’re a literal human teddybear and a walking heater~!” You whined in protest, letting out flustered giggles when he hummed in response and leaned in to peck both yours and Yeosang’s noses, the latter flushing a deep red out of shyness from the contact.

Satisfied, Yunho smiled and seated himself next to you before handing out slices of cake to you and the younger male, watching how his eyes lit up at the realization of what it was he was given.

“I admit that I had a little bit of help but,” Yunho confessed, and you couldn’t keep yourself from hoping that the one who helped him was not Wooyoung, based on a few past experiences, “I figured you’d enjoy this, considering that we all know how much you love sweet things...~”

“That’s why I love you and our precious Y/n so much~” It was Yunho’s turn to blush now, a cheeky grin playing on Yeosang’s lips, “In all seriousness - I love all of this, the balloons, the fairy lights, the sweets that I’m sure are delicious... You did so much to make sure I would have a good birthday~ Your efforts and Y/n’s are both incredibly appreciated....~”

You smiled brightly at his words, snuggling into his side while Yunho wrapped his arm around both of you to keep you close to himself.

You ended up watching some kind of romcom that recently came out and Yeosang shyly admitted to being interested in, and you admittedly found more joy in feeding your boyfriends the cake the older had prepared than in the movie.

Halfway through, you weren’t even sure how it happened, you were sprawled out across both of their laps with the blanket draped rather awkwardly over all three of you. You weren’t paying much attention to the movie playing on the tv anymore, more interested in playing with the strands of Yeosang’s hair you could reach without obstructing his field of vision with your hands.

You heard his breath hitch, however, so you paused mid stroke to turn your head to face the tv with your now undivided attention, and you understood immediately why Yunho scrambled to reach for the remote to pause it.

There was a sex scene presently playing on the screen, and neither of you were prepared to see it.

“It’s not even rated R, I don’t understand...” Yeosang mumbled lowly, his face flushed a bright shade of red.

“We can watch something else if you want Sangie, we don’t have to-” Yunho attempted to reassure him before being cut off and shushed with a finger placed on his lips.

Yeosang shook his head slightly, “No, I just- I didn’t expect that. But...”

“But?” You echoed questioningly, sitting up straight again between him and Yunho and looking at the former inquisitively, “I’ve been wondering if you guys c-could maybe teach me how to do things like that...”

You shared a look with Yunho, the tall male quirking a curious eyebrow at your boyfriend’s request. You were both aware that Yeosang had no sexual experience whatsoever beyond jerking himself off a handful of times in the shower, while you and the older of the two males had fooled around on multiple occasions.

“I mean, only if you want t-” Yeosang fell silent mid-sentence when you suddenly kicked the blanket away and off of the couch before climbing onto his lap and facing him.

“We want to, Sangie. We wanna make you feel good~”

An unintelligible whine left him at your words, followed by a shy look on his still reddened face. “Are you sure-”

Understanding of Yeosang’s hesitance, you shut him up with a gentle peck to his soft lips before giving him a cheeky smile, “Yes, we’re sure. I wanna suck you off, Sangie... please~?”

It was your pleading tone that made him give in, spreading his legs a little as you let your body slide off of his lap and down onto the carpet.

“Last chance to chicken out, Sangie. Are you one hundred percent sure you want this? I’ll stop and forget all about this if you ask me to but if you don’t, I’m about to give you the best goddamn blowjob of your life.”

Yeosang had to admit to himself that the dominance bleeding through the mischief of your tone had him twitching in his jeans, nodding eagerly as Yunho hummed next to him and took his own half-hard length out of his sweatpants.

“Mh don’t mind me, just gonna enjoy the show~”

A grin painting the older’s features while he leisurely stroked himself, he watched you fumble with Yeosang’s belt, your brows furrowed.

“Need some help there, sweetheart~?” You heard Yunho coo cheekily from across the couch, huffing softly in response, “No I don’t. If I can manage during all our practice room quickies, I can definitely manage now, thank you.”

You regretted your cocky choice of tone when you saw the look that flashed in Yunho’s eyes, an apologetic pout forming on your face in reaction, “S-sorry master, wasn’t thinking before speaking...”

“It’s alright as long as you admit your mistake, my dear. Now go ahead and do what you do best~” The older male purred, fishing his phone out of his pocket before pointing the camera at you and Yeosang, “Surely you won’t mind if I record this for when we’re on tour and missing our sweet darling...~?”

His tone was suggestive - it sounded like you had a choice, but you knew from experience there was no room whatsoever for debate, “It’s up to Sangie, I’m more than okay with that~”

Yeosang swallowed heavily when both your and Yunho’s attention shifted to him, his face flushed and eyebrows slightly raised from the surprise of hearing you call the older male by the title of ‘master’ instead of his name.

He simply nodded dumbly when he remembered that an answer was expected of him, too focused on the anticipation he felt towards the idea of having the warmth of your mouth enveloping his cock.

Yeosang breathed out a sigh of relief he wasn’t aware he was holding when you finally freed his dick from where it strained against the fabric of his jeans, shuddering lightly when it instead came into contact with the cool air in the room.

He had a pretty decent size, you mused; his cock was a little thicker than Yunho’s, although shorter in return and curved slightly to the left.

“Y/n p-please, I- oh!” Yeosang’s plea got cut short when your lips finally wrapped around his sensitive tip, a small whimper of surprise sounding in his throat in reaction.

“Our darling’s a natural, eh Sangie~?” Yunho purred cockily, still stroking himself with the camera pointed to you and Yeosang.

It wasn’t that the latter didn’t want to retort, but he found himself choking on air when you suddenly took the entirety of his length into your mouth and down your throat. He would’ve been impressed by what appeared to be what Yunho had taught you, if he wasn’t currently sobbing out moans instead and throwing his head back to restrain himself from bucking his hips into you.

You hummed in satisfaction around him, pleased that you could reduce him to a moaning mess so easily and wanting to see what other kinds of sounds you’d be able to draw out of him while you boldly swirled your tongue around the head of his cock.

You heard Yunho groan from where he sat, his previous question forgotten with his thumb brushing over his own bulbous leaking tip.

A broken whine sounding in Yeosang’s throat was what made your attention snap back to the younger, your eyes hooded as you met his gaze, his pupils blown wide from lust.

Meanwhile, Yeosang was struggling to keep his composure and squeezed his eyes shut to keep from bucking his hips into your mouth and choking you with his length in the process.

You noticed him twitch in your mouth, the feeling encouraging you to give his cock suction as best as you could given his size.

“Ahh~ F-fuck...~” His heavenly voice reached yours and Yunho’s ears in the form of a breathless lewd moan, the latter humming in sadistic interest, “Mmh~ Are you gonna cum, Yeoangie~?”

It took Yeosang an almost embarrassingly long moment to process his boyfriend’s question in his head, giving a nod and a throaty groan in response, “Yeah, ‘m so f-fucking close I feel like I’m gonna burst...”

It seemed like a miracle to himself that he was able to formulate such a coherent answer, Yunho offering a soft thoughtful hum in reply before his voice boomed through the living room while he slowed his own strokes.

“Y/n, off.” You nodded and obeyed the simple order immediately, removing your mouth from Yeosang’s dick as quickly as possible before watching the string of saliva between his tip and your lips cut in front of your very eyes while awaiting the next command.

Yeosang promptly whimpered at having been denied his orgasm, glancing back and forth between your bright eyed smiling form and Yunho’s next to him. Even through his haze of pleasure, he was able to deduce what kind of man the latter was in the bedroom - he didn’t seem to be a particularly stern or demanding dom, but he was still firm and clear about what he wanted.

As someone naturally leaning to be rather reserved and laid back, Yeosang had to admit that he found this kind of control oddly attractive.

“W-why...” He whispered eventually after catching his breath, his eyes meeting Yunho’s darkened ones as the older smiled a little too sweetly to not be suspicious.

“You said you wanted to learn ‘how to do those things,’ no? It’s exactly what we’re doing... Y/n giving you head was just warming you up for what’s to come, and I’ll warn you now that we always come back for seconds~”

Yeosang found himself shuddering in anticipation of the sultry tone’s implications while you tilted your head in curious interest, still kneeling on the floor beside him.

“Lie back darling, and let us do what we do best.”

Yeosang understood that the request was for him and, too desperate to cum to allow himself to complain about being given orders, did as told. Removing his pants and boxers entirely, he gave Yunho time to stand and place the phone on the coffee table to continue filming all three of you before making himself comfortable on the couch - as comfortable as he could be with a hard and throbbing cock, anyway.

He turned his head to the side to face the older, his cheeks flushed a bright crimson when he felt Yunho gently nudge his tip against his lips. At the same time, he found himself jolting the tiniest bit, his self-restraint almost cracking when he realized that you had undressed as well and positioned yourself in such a way that had you hovering right above him with your entrance close enough for him to easily slip inside if he really wished to.

Yeosang knew much better than to do anything rash though, and shook off the idea. He was the one who had asked for ‘lessons’ in terms of how sex felt, he mentally chastised himself, so he opted to let the two of you do as you pleased and lead him instead. Because this was the best birthday present he could’ve ever dreamt of.

“I can already tell it’ll be fun to teach our sweet Sangie all about how good it is to not have to rely on some toy or his hand just to cum~” You chirped from where you were above him, leaving the younger conflicted about where to look before his lustfilled eyes settled on Yunho’s own darkened gaze.

“I agree, baby~ I look forward to seeing how many ‘seconds’ he’ll be able to handle...~”

----- Taglist:

@atinykitty @cometoceantrenches @ddeonghwva @galaxteez @gummygowon​ @latte-fairytaekwoon @little-precious-baby @multidreams-and-desires @nightqueennyx @serialee @twancingyunhoe @vocalyunho

Network tag:

@8makes1teamnet

[realcube]

christmas gifts you give haikyuu!! characters and how they react 🎁

pairings: daichi x reader, sugawara x reader , akaashi x reader, bokuto x reader, yachi x reader

tw// swearing, she/her reader

Daichi Sawamura 

you got him a toiletries set!

y’all both agreed to keep it simple and small in terms of christmas gifts

so you just bought him the first toiletries set you found in the shop

it wasn’t necessarily cheap, you probably got him a branded one so you were confident in the fact that the product wouldn’t give him a rush or anything

he found the gift really cute, especially because he got you a eau de toilette 

great minds think alike i guess

(but because he was lost when it came women’s perfume he spent a while with the sales person, bombarding them with question - not to be rude but just so he doesn’t something you hate)

(”so, she has [e/c] eyes - what sort of scent would suit that?” he asked the perplexed sales assistant.)

anyway, he really liked the gift and he gave you many kisses (づ￣ 3￣)

it also brought him great relief that you bought him something small - like he bought you - so he didn’t look like fool 

Kōshi Sugawara

you made him a cute hamper!

filled with a plushie, chocolate, sweets, some toiletries, a water bottle, a necklace and a few polaroid pictures of you and him 

he adored it

literally as soon as he opened it and noticed the amount of effort you must’ve put into it, he wrapped you in the biggest hug and gave you all the kisses （〃｀ 3′〃）

and he loved every single item in that box as well; like, he admired how well you knew him

it kinda made him feel bad about the gift he gave you because the theme y’all decided on was ‘handmade’ and yeah..you arranged the hamper yourself but you must’ve bought most of the contents

while sugawara went handmade handmade and created a scrapbook of y’alls relationship so far 

you assured him it was fine though because his gift was so fkn cute like- how could you be mad?

anyway, sugawara loved the gift so much that he put it up on a table as a decoration of sorts because it looked so pretty

and he only took the first thing out of the hamper in February because it was so well-made and he hated to ruin it

Keiji Akaashi

you got him a book/library scented candle and a DVD of your favourite  movie!

you and akaashi decided to do a thing that you saw on pinterest where you exchange copies of your favourite books but added a bit ✨spice✨

this was only because akaashi’s (and perhaps your) favourite ‘book’ was in fact a fan fiction in the internet so the next best thing he could think of was giving you a DVD of his favourite movie

as for the candle, the orginal plan was just to do the DVD exchange  but when you saw the book scented candle in a store while shopping for cards, you just had to buy it

like a decent person, you texted akaashi saying you bought him a lil’ something extra so he did the same and bought you a simple, dainty bracelet with your initials on it 

it wasn’t even an issue either bc he was a whole list on his notes app which consisted of things he could buy you for any occasion and it’s like 2 pages long

anyway, when y’all exchanged gift of the day, of course he loved your taste in DVD for him 

“Barbie and A Christmas Carol?” He inquired, resisting the urge to smile. 

“A classic.”

As for the candle - as much as he liked to savour gifts like that - once he got a whiff of it’s amazing scent, he just had to light it immediately

needless to say, he loved it - unable to hide how happy to scent made him and the fact that it was from you just made it ten times nicer (╹ڡ╹ )

so, your christmas with akaashi smelled like the library and looked like cuddling by the fireplace, watching the movies you exchanged 

Kōtarō Bokuto

you got him a massive, fluffy blanket! (like, 150x200cm)

ok so i have a headcanon bokuto is a huge cuddle bug!

after an intense volleyball match; all he wants to do is go home, take a shower, eat and then cuddle with you 🥺

literally anywhere, he is not picky: on the couch, in bed, on the floor, the dinner table works too, the carpet- anywhere!

but he is picky about temperature - especially after showers 

since he takes cold showers (bc he is an athlete >:) ) whenever he gets out, he wants to warm up immediately so he’s always complaining while y’all cuddle

“(Y/N).” He whined, “Stop stealing all the blanket; I need some too! My feet are sticking out and they are cold!”  

“(Y/N), my perfect angel lady.” He spoke sweetly, like he always does when he wants something, “Turn the radiator on? I’m freezing..”

“Why can’t you do it, Bo?” You groaned.

“Because I am asleep.” Cue unrealistic, exaggerated snores

anyway, you had known for a while that a big fluffy blanket would solve all your cuddling problems but it took you a while to find an affordable, good quality one

and once you did, christmas approaching anyway so you held off giving it to him until then 

and as soon as he tore the present open and laid eyes on the solution to his temperature issues, he freaked out v(ﾟДﾟ)v

“FUCK YES!” he yelled, squeezing the warm blanket to chest and appreciating it how fluffy it is, “THANKYOUTHANKYOUTHANKYOUTHANKYOU!

he didn’t stop beaming for the rest of the day

and he insisted you try out the blanket with him immediately so he was just laying on the couch, the blanket draped over him with his arms wide open and an inviting space beside him

“Let’s give it a test-drive! I’ll put on a movie!” He lured, fiddled with the remote as he waited for you to lay down beside him.

You laughed, gently sitting down next to him before sinking into his arms, allowing him to toss the blanket over you

3 movies later, the sun had went down and you were both still snuggled up beside each other, slowly finding yourselves drifting off 

“Thank you, (Y/N).” He whispered in reference to how great the blanket was how thoughtful you are to have given him the best gift ever, “I love you.”

“I love you too, Bo.” You said softly, smiling into his chest at how much he liked you gift - be proud 💕

Hitoka Yachi

you got her a cute stationary set!

yachi is definitely one of those girls that takes the most beautiful notes and put a lot of effort into their school work

like she has a new notebook for every unit of every subject, a highlighting scheme, stickers for decoration, the prettiest study planner and the most detailed diagrams

and she always has dainty notebooks, adorable washi tapes, glittery highlight, cool pencil cases and those pens with cute lil’ sanrio characters at the ends 

needless to say, she goes through her stationary pretty quickly with how organised she likes to keep her stuff

especially her pens because she uses them to not only take her mass amounts of notes, but to also do little doodles on the side of her jotter or on her hand 

oh! and at lunch, you’d shuffle over to her desk to compare Pinterest boards or revise together and you’d notice the cute little drawings of flowers, smilies, sparkles and hearts on her hand ✨❤

yachi would notice the mesmerised look in your eyes and offer to draw on your hand too and obviously you said yes so you’d go around the rest of the day with matching doodles on your hand with yachi ヾ(≧ ▽ ≦)ゝ💓

and whenever y’all go shopping together, you notice how her gaze lingers on the cutesy stationary in a shop’s window for a bit longer than she should 

so of course you bought her the one she’s been staring at

and she was absolutely ecstatic 

“Oh my god, (Y/N)! These are so cute!” she shifted through the many types of stationary in the bundle, “I’m gonna use these all the time.” q(≧▽≦q)

You smiled, quite chuffed with yourself before sitting yourself beside her and putting your hand on her knee, “Yachi?” 

Yachi giggled as that tone was all too familiar

so she popped open one of the pens and began sketching away on the back of your hand; drawing little candy canes, gingerbread men, snowmen, snowflakes and other festive things.

[letsunity]

The Lucky Batch ☘️

Cold Lullabies

With the information that Raffle delivered, Kenlha wanted to hear their side of the story. However, she struggled to muster the gut to do so, knowing the pain they must feel.

Every day, Kenlha misses Morast, wishing that she’d never been their padawan. Maybe the Clawdite would still be alive if Kenlha was dumped with another master, someone like Kit Fisto or Ki-Adi Mundi, the latter being a sociopath. Mundi was better than Mace Windu, the prick.

She has an idea how they feel. Though instead of losing one, they’ve lost many. Not only their batchmates but prior mother-figure, Master Bastet. 

Master Fisto, Master Koon and Master Kenobi believed that she was best for this squad, they trusted her to care for them. In order to do that, she needed to know as much as possible.

Not only that, but share as well. They’ll be fully open to each other, no secrets between them. That’ll build trust and maybe make them almost competent. 

The twins, however, are crafty bastards. 

Foxy would direct the conversation in one of his many attempts to flirt. Thumbs would egg him on while Ballast laughed. 

Pepper, being the only medic, could say that he was busy with one of his idiot brothers. Given how often this lot gets injured, she can’t argue that he’s was a busy guy. 

It was a waiting game. She’d have to ambush one of them, get them comfortable with her. 

This togruta space witch is even craftier than these twins.

While trying to mentor Brisk and Luna, she’d wait. 

Eventually, Kenlha’s time came, just not how she wanted it to. 

On one of the missions, Pepper was hurt, the fool more focused on protecting Foxy. He got an infection from the wound, even contracting a virus. Foxy was adamant that they not go back to Kamino, leaving them to follow Pepper’s fevered orders. 

It inspired her to start practicing medicine, only for her to realise how complicated it was. 

With perseverance and a visit from a clone named Kix, Peps was on his way to getting back on his feet. 

Since he couldn’t run away, Kenlha would take advantage of the only moment she had. 

“Looking better by the day,” Kenlha complimented, sitting next to Pepper’s bed. “You’ll be giving out stickers any day, buddy.”

“Goose will be thrilled,” the medic continued, wondering how high it’s body count was now. “Ryder needs a new Nexu sticker. Then I can make the hot Cheetos dipped in mashed potatoes scratch and sniff for him.”

It was sweet to see the new Ryder bring such a gift to Pepper, he adored it. 

“Is it alright if I ask you something?”

“You can always confide with me, Ken. Doctor patient confidentiality ensures your secrets are safe with me.”

He was a soft boi, a good brother to her and an excellent doctor. When she looked into those mismatched eyes and his soft smile, it was easy to forget what he’d endured. What both twins went through together. 

“I’d like to know about before me and before Master Bastet. I’m a Jedi, I can sense your instinctive caution around me, even though you don’t show it. As your General, your sister, I want to be there for you as you are for me.”

Perhaps it was the fever, maybe it was exhaustion, but he gave somewhat of a summary of what transpired with Master Laverna. She could feel the trauma, especially regarding the force-choke.

He had to hold his neck, recalling the events as though he was re-living them again. 

Raffle forgot to mention that the Jedi’s death was an accident, but in her opinion, he deserved it. While she’s biased, being their sister, she can’t stand people mistreating the clones. 

Being so close with the twins, she’s disgusted by that dead Cathar.

“I... sometimes I don’t think Foxy should’ve gotten involved,” the medic sighed, like a weight was lifted from his chest. 

Understandably, Kenlha was surprised, though she wouldn’t voice it. He was sharing with her, she can’t ruin this. She can understand him more, and by doing that, she can be a better sister. 

“He had a padawan, a girl, possible 11 or so, named Teles. I cut off her leg, but didn’t cut high enough, and she died, likely septic shock. I held her hand as that light fell away. Nothing he could’ve done to me would compare to feeling her going limp and cold.”

He felt responsible for her. He did everything he could and she still died. It’s a pain that Kenlha empathised with more than she wished she did. Her eyes burned as salty water seeped through her ducts, dribbling down her yellow skin.

“I often feel that I killed my master, Morast Tane. They were strict, but they were better to me than anyone before. They tried to guide my energy onto something productive and constructive, kind of like a parent to me,” Kenlha started, recalling the events herself.

“It was on a hot planet called Nevarro, magma and volcanic ash littering the ground. While fighting an army of droids, some damned flyers shot from above, causing the ground to become unstable.

I didn’t think. I jumped into the air, slicing through those bastards. One that I bisected fell, crashing into that unstable ground and causing Master Morast to fall. I tried to pull them up, but they fell into the lava. 

The only word they could muster was Run before the cries started. Being outmatched, outgunned, we had to leave. There wasn’t even anything to bury them,” Kenlha sighed, the sensation of something clawing at her throat adding to the tears. “I know the pain of being responsible, even when others tell you it wasn’t your fault.”

The medic absorbed her tale, allowing her a few moments to recollect herself. The togruta held his hand, supporting herself and him in the emotional moment. 

There were days she wished it was her instead of Master Morast.

“Do you remember the Endeavour, that ship that crashed down, killing two-thousand troopers?” Pepper started, his voice trembling. “I... could’ve stopped that from happening.”

She waited, feeling his grip tighten around hers.

“At Geonosis, while Foxy, Mozzarella, Springer and Locke were fighting droids, I and a few others were sent back to look for surviving Jedi. Instead, I found someone with my face, only far younger.

I knew who he was, everybody did. The Maker’s chosen child, the payment for his involvement in making us. The one that he named Boba, raising as his own.

If I’d just taken him in or hell, even shot him, then all of those clones would still be alive. Master Windu and Master Skywalker wouldn’t have been hurt. Instead of that, I let him go, lying to my fellows that I didn’t find anybody.”

“While the Endeavour was a tragedy, I think you did the right thing. They were only a child, weren’t they? Even by Mandalorian standards, he was a kid, right?”

“Master Bastet said something similar. And she’s dead too. I tend to have bad luck regarding Jedi.”

He was afraid to get close to her in case she died. It’s an understandable fear, she was terrified of ever having a master again.

Kenlha was scared to even be a Master, worried that she’d never live up to Morast with her young girls. Brisk and Luna were outliers too, so she had an advantage there, but still. 

There are days where she wondered if Morast would’ve been better for them.

“I won’t promise that I’m not gonna die. We all die eventually, many earlier than they should. What I will promise, Peps, is that I’ll be here for every day that it gets hard. During the days it feels like there can’t be a tomorrow, I’ll be right here to listen. All of us, even Goose.”

“Foxy’ll need an ear, too. He’s an idiot, but he’s my idiot.”

“He was adamant that we steer clear from Kamino. Would I be pushing it if I asked why?”

She watched those green and brown eyes ponder, thinking over her question. As with before, he chose to share.

“Foxy and I aren’t just twins. There’re loads of twins, Echo and Fives from the 501st for example. We, however, are literal twins. Our clump of cells split and we grew attached at the shoulder,” he explained, motioning to his tattooed shoulder. “The Kaminoans, having not seen it often, experimented on us to prevent it from happening again. Our earliest memories have made us dislike them, especially the one named Nala Se.”

It made sense and she could agree with it.

“Then to ensure that we don’t go, I think I’ll have to learn some doctor lessons from you. I’ll be your, um, what’s that dumb thing Jackal says?”

“P-to-the-wan?”

“Yep, I’ll be your medic padawan,” she smiled, earning one from him as well. It was a beautiful thing, given his experiences. “Have a sleep, pal. We’ll give you a few minutes of peace.”

“There’s tape in Boots’ room,” he chuckled. She smirked, knowing that it would be for Ballast. “It... was good talking with you, Ken.”

“You too, Doctor Bro.”

Kenlha will talk with Foxy as well. She’ll talk with all of her siblings, assuring them that she’s there for ‘em. Not just her clones but her padawans, too. 

She wasn’t going to lie, it felt good talking to Peppy about her feelings as well.

Feelings aren’t accepted in the Jedi Order, so he made her feel valid. It was something she desperately needed from someone, and she was happy it was from Peps.

This is a good family she’s found.

Love you guys!

Tags: @lynnpaper @just-another-dreamerr @maygalodon @radbatch @oo-hazel-oo @foxlock​ @lusiawonder @catboy-tech @cosmicghostie @monako-jinn-stories @namesmox @generaltano @lavenderstaars @mango-peachjuice 

I am evil, yis 😈😈

PS - it’s 3:23am lol brain is working overtime!

[miyaniacs]

collaboration between @shhhlikeme and @thosenerdy3amthings​

about: Casually scrolling though YouTube Hanamaki suddenly stops. His eyes scan over the title again and again “Most Handsome & Beautiful Haikyu!! Faces”.  As soon as his brain comprehended what he just read, he clicked on it. There was someone out there, ranking him, his friends and the people around them? He HAS to tell Matsukawa. There is no way he can not. Not after what he just saw. Let the vicious cycle begin … 

Link to the video and credits are in the masterlist

Introduction /Oikawa and Iwaizumi

Kageyama and Hinata

written by @shhhlikeme​​

“Hey Kageyama!” Hinata greeted the man standing on his lawn, hopping out of his house like an orange bunny. 

“Why were you calling me when I told you I’d be here in 2 minutes, boke.” Answered the setter, skipping hellos and turning his back to walk to the library. Hinata caught up with him. 

This afternoon, the two college boys / ex teammates planned on heading the local library. Even though they attend different post-secondary schools, they had gotten so used to cramming together everyday in high school for three years that they find comfort in working alongside eachother to pull out the grades they need, even though neither of them were willing to admit it. 

“Oh! Because I thought of something I had to tell you and I didn’t want to forget it when I got out here!” 

Kags was annoyed, as per usual. “Alright.... So are you gonna tell me what it is..........?” 

Hinata‘s mouth formed an “O” as he lifted up his index finger excitedly to say what he’s been itching to tell his friend for weeks......only to not have any sound come out: because he forgot. 

Kageyama glared at him. “You forgot.” 

Shōyo waved his arms around maniacally as they walked. 

“Well crap! Maybe if you got here on time I would have remembered!” 

“Boke. Think. What was it about?” 

Hinata raked his memory with all his might. “Uhhhh......Twitter. Something about Twitter. Oh, right!!! I sent you something funny of Twitter!”

“I’m never on Twitter. And I won’t find it funny.” Tobio mumbled, sliding his phone out of his pocket, unlocking it with his thumb, he pressed the Twitter app that might as well have cobwebs on it. Tobio had like 50+ mentions and 20+ direct messages. 

Looking around his arm to see, Hinata pointed to the screen. “Hey.... why is The Great King messaging you??” 

Tobio was suddenly very interested. “What? He did? What did he say?!”

Retrieving the iphone, Hinata opened the direct message, taking the liberty of shoving his face closer to the screen and reading the message out loud: 

“Oikawa said..... ‘ha guess who’s better again’ ...............then he said..........’once second best, always second best ..... nail polish emoji.....middle finger emoji..............sticking tongue out emoji’............and then there’s a video link. A rank.”

“A rank!?” His blood boiling because his ex-mentor could easily get under his skin, Kageyama ripped his phone out of Shōyo’s hand and brought it close to his face for analysis. 

“Someone put out a ranking?” He inquired. 

“Ouuu lemme see! I think that’s our old coach Takeda on the thumbnail!” Hinata grabbed the phone back, getting excited. 

“No, Boke! Let me hold MY PHONE!” 

The two began a scrappy cell phone tug of war, resulting in a toss of the phone several feet in the air into the neighbours yard. The video had begun playing as they threw it.

The two competitors paused - looked at eachother, then hurdled over the fence, jumping over the lawn gnomes and raced over to the phone that was playing the Rank video. During the race, they slid onto their stomachs on the grass, immediately trying to pry it out of the other’s hands before settling on placing it in the middle as they both held the device.

“Whoaaaaaaaa.” Hinata widened his eyes as he saw the pictures roll to left. “How did they get all these pictures of everyone?!” 

Taking the phone completely and pausing the video, Shōyo rapidly scanned his surroundings as if he’d just seen a red target on Kageyama’s forehead from a distant shooter. 

When he figured the coast was clear, he brought his attention back to the video. 

“WHOA OVER 400,000 VIEWS?!” 

Annoyed, Kags pressed play again. 

“I mean maybe there’s no spies around but it is kind of scary. Where did they get these pictures!?” 

Lying on the grass, Kags bumped Hinata’s shoulder with his own in an attempt to get him to shut up about random shit. “What’s my rank.” He inquired. 

“Hey they put Aone-san at the end all the way at #166!? Well, that’s mean.” 

Kags nudged Hinata again with his shoulder. “What’s my rank, Boke.?”

“And hey that short Ace that you said I fly higher than back in 1st year is at #115! I think he’d be really angry to see that.” 

I don’t care: Kags thought. 

Nudge. “What’s my rank, Boke?” 

“HAHA! ONION HEAD IS AT #77! .......But how did he beat out Lev, looking like a human onion?” Hinata scratched his head. 

Shut up: Kags thought. 

Nudge again. “What’s my rank, Boke.?” 

“Hmmm.... I see a lot of old heads on this list! I guess the person who made this list likes grandpas!.” 

Harder nudge. “What is—“ 

“Awesome! Inuoka is in the Top 50?! Way to—“

Never the patient sort, Tobio Karate-chopped Hinata on the head. 

“WHAT IS MY RANK, YOU IDIOT—!” 

Hinata yelped in pain, turning to scream back in his ear. “—I DON’T KNOW KAGEYAMA, OBVIOUSLY WE HAVEN’T SEEN YOU OR ME IN THE VIDEO YET SO—“

“—WELL SKIP TO AT THE END, THEN! YOU THINK I WOULD BE RANKED ANYWHERE NEAR THE PLAYERS YOU JUST MENTIONED—“

“FINE! I’LL FAST FORWARD IT BUT ONLY IF YOU STOP YELLING IN MY EAR! I NEED TO USE THEM TO PLAY IN MY GAME TOMORROW—“ 

“HEY YOU KIDS WHEREVER YOU ARE GET THE FUCK OFF MY LAWN WITH ALL THAT YELLING BEFORE I CALL THE COPS—“ Yelled a shaky elderly voice from the grumpy old bat that lived on Hinata’s street. 

The boys froze as if that would render them invisible. Kageyama quieted down so that his idiot friend could just fast forward quickly. Given the circumstances, Hinata did, to top 15. 

“Oh, hey! There’s Asahi!” 

The two boys whisper-exclaimed in unison. 

 “Tsukishima should not be in the Top 15.” 

They also said in unison, deadpanning.

“Hey look! It’s me!” 

Both boys exclaimed, seeing rank #13 and #12 roll across the screen.

“At least whoever did this knows I’m better than you, Boke.” Kags muttered.

“Why should you be higher than me?!” Hinata yelled. “You look like the monster Natsu thinks is hiding under her bed!” 

“Oh shut up....” 

Glancing back to the screen, Hinata gasped. “AND THERE IS THE GREAT KING! At Number 5, wow!” 

Kageyama was not happy.

“I mean, I guess I can see why they would mistake Oikawa because he is in all the magazines so they probably have seen him more so I’m only a little insulted about that. But the real question is... WHY would they think Coach Ukai—the guy who smokes a pack a day and can barely jog one lap around the gym—is a better player than ME?! I’m disgusted. And Kiyoko?! She only serves underhand! What kind of stupid video is!? Show me who made it I’m going to send them my highlight tape right now so that they can correct this shi—“ 

Hinata blinked, interrupting his frenemy. “Uh, Kageyama....?” 

Kags stopped his angry rant momentarily to glare at his old teammate. 

“What?!”

“...You do realize that this isn’t a rank for greatest volleyball skill, right? It’s uh..... for looks. How attractive we all are.” 

Upon hearing the new information, Kags’ infuriated face fell. 

“....Really?” 

Shōyo nodded.

“Oh.” 

Kageyama’s entire demeanour changed, switching from shifty— to absolutely careless. He stood up calmly from the grass and dusted off his attire. 

“Then I don’t care.” 

He stated simply, turning to head in the direction of the library again, expecting Hinata to follow with his phone.

“Wait! What are you going to answer The Great King!?” 

Tobio shrugged as he walked away, so, naturally, Hinata took his response literally. Not wanting to be rude and still holding onto Kags’ phone, Hinata responded to Oikawa’s dm that had the viral ranking with a: 

🤷🏻‍♂️ 

Immediately, you could see “.....” on the screen because Oikawa was typing. 

Oikawa: WHY AREN’T YOU ANGRY 😡😡😡😡😡😡😡😡🖕🏻🖕🏻🖕🏻🖕🏻🖕🏻🖕🏻🖕🏻🖕🏻

“Hm. I guess Oikawa-senpai was hoping for a better reaction out of Kageyama.....” 

In the distance, Kags yelled, 

“HINATA! We have to study. Let’s go!” 

“Coming!” 

Shōyo called, quickly forwarding the video to his own Twitter so that he could send it to Kenma later. He does that with every interesting video he comes across, so maybe Kenma would get a kick out of it. 

Shōyo did not remember seeing Kozume on the list because Kageyama had gone into his distracting rant about unfairness, but Shōyo just figured he had skipped his anti-social friend’s rank when Kageyama made him fast forward to the Top 15. 

Little did he know.......... that the quiet cat boy’s ranking..........was even higher than Oikawa’s.

 taglist ( open ) : @your-local-bnha-writer​​​ @chaichai-the-weeb​​​​ @kageyamasbraincell​​​​  @nekxrizawa​​​​  @ushiwakaflaka​​​ ​ @tendouthighs​​​​  @brokeyiam

[skullrock]

noel nancy

12 days of Christmas fics, day 4 - noel nancy

pairing: Stancy

summary: Steve and Nancy spend their first Christmas together after the events of S1.

word count: 1.5k

warnings: none <3

a/n: this isn’t really like a STANCY stancy fic it’s more of a character study into Steve and his relationship w Christmas, w Nancy, and with Barb after S1. so even if u hate this ship u can still read <3 xox hope u enjoy!

Steve wasn’t used to second chances. His parents gave up on him the first time he snuck out to try cigarettes with Tommy; his teachers gave up on him at the first signs of difficulty; his other girlfriends gave up on him the first time he let down his cool exterior. Because, really, Steve was a kid. As much as he felt like a grown up, he wasn’t. He was a kid who handled his life poorly, and if it wasn’t for Nancy Wheeler, he never would have handled it well.

So when Nancy gave him a second chance, a month after… Everything, he was quick to jump on it and be on his very best behavior. Jonathan Byers’ fist knocked some sense into him, too, and that’s precisely why Steve went to the store and bought the best camera that the salesman had. He owed them both his life - like, literally, and they probably owed him theirs, but he wouldn’t take it. He just wanted them happy and safe and peaceful for Christmas.

“Steve.” Nancy looked bewildered when Steve showed her the camera, unwrapped, as he didn’t really know how to wrap anything. “He’ll love it.” Her hand touched his and it was warm, and Steve swore he felt the heat creep up his entire arm. He never wanted her to let go. Not again.

“‘s whatever,” he said, a bit bashfully, but his smile was growing. “I owe him at least this much.”

“You’re sweet,” Nancy said, leaning forward and kissing his cheek softly, and Steve melted into her eagerly. He didn’t think he really deserved to be called sweet, not yet, but he still takes her hand and squeezes it.

“Help me wrap it?” he asked.

“You don’t know how?”

“I can’t be good at everything,” he teased, and she hit his chest gently with her free hand before standing.

“I’ll be right back.” Nancy knew she had to promise this. She could see that fear and apprehension and remorse in his eyes every time she went to step away, like she wouldn’t be back.

And she almost wasn’t.

Steve pressed a kiss to her palm before letting her run downstairs to grab the paper. When her frame left the doorway, he let his eyes roam around her room, something he’d done before, but not since Everything. He sees pictures of Nance when she was younger, in a ballerina costume. On a school field trip to the zoo. Pictures of Ted holding her when she was just as big as Holly was then. Her and Mike dressed up like - well, Steve doesn’t know what they’re dressed up as, but they’re having fun.

And then he sees the pictures of Barb and Nance. How happy they were. Their faces smushed together in a photobooth, at each other’s birthday parties - the room was littered with Barb and little reminders of her. Steve checked on Nancy every chance he had, even in that month where they’d only stolen looks at each other. He said he was sorry probably a dozen times, each more tearful than the last, because what Nancy didn’t understand was that Steve couldn’t even look at his pool without feeling like he was going to vomit. He couldn’t lay in his bed at night and sleep. He thought about Barb, about how she cut her hand when they tried to make her do something stupid, about how scared and alone and sad she must have been. How he stole Nancy from her.

Barb Holland probably hated him more in death than she did in life.

It wasn’t supposed to be a competition, Steve promised her. He had a lot of talks with her at night. I just didn’t want to share the glory that is Nancy Wheeler. I’m sure you understand.

“Found some.” Nancy’s voice broke Steve from his melancholy staring, and he quickly blinked some tears out of his eyes. She sat at her desk with the camera and Steve watched her wrap the box, watched her little fingers fold and tape the paper. “He’ll be here to pick up Will later.”

Steve cleared his throat. “Will you give it to him?”

Nancy looked at him with furrowed brows. “Me?”

“I just….” Steve paused. “I don’t want him to think he… like, owes me something. Or that I’m trying to buy his forgiveness.”

“He won’t,” Nancy promised, but Steve shook his head.

“Please? Just say it’s from you.”

Nancy frowned and stood, walking to Steve at the end of her bed. She cupped his face and kissed his lips, softly, before pulling back. Steve smirked, gently grabbing her wrists in his hands. “Guess I should be selfless more often, huh?”

“You are selfless,” Nancy said, staring into his eyes. Steve loved it when Nancy looked at him like that. “And you’re brave.”

But Steve didn’t feel like it.

===

To be honest, Steve never had a great Christmas. Sometimes his cousins and extended family would stop by for Christmas, and that could be fun. But his aunts and uncles didn’t like their kids hanging out with Steve, because he was a “bad influence,” which just meant sometimes Steve would get too carried away during snowball fights and, yeah, he hit Brent in the face with one but it’s not like he lost an eye or anything. Christmas with his mom and dad was impersonal. He would get new things that he didn’t really like - as in, ten new polos and five new khakis, all from expensive retailers - and he would thank them before going up to his room until dinner. Christmas dinner was the worst - it was silent save for forks scraping and mouths chewing, and Steve was pretty sure that when he goes to hell he will be perpetually sitting at the dinner table on December 25th.

But Christmas with Nancy was different.

It wasn’t that Steve didn’t like talking to Ted about sports, or telling Karen about his mom’s new business ventures, or acting like an asshole to Mike just to get a ruse from him, or playing with Holly. He loved it. But that wasn’t the bestpart. The best part was that Nancy, in her pretty yellow sweater, was glued to his side, and was smiling, and was squeezing his hand, and was rolling her eyes and laughing at him. It wasn’t even that much, but it was the closest to an actual Christmas that Steve had ever had. Closest to Christmas that Steve had ever felt. He could even stand Ted’s after-dinner snoring as he held Nancy on the couch, absent-mindedly watching a movie. He was more concerned with her warm body pressed against his.

A month was a long time without Nancy Wheeler.

The front door opened. Karen cried out, “Jonathan!”, and Steve looked to Nancy anxiously. As Jonathan slipped downstairs, Nancy snuck up to her room, leaving Steve alone with a snoring Ted.

Steve was used to being alone, now. Or, well, he should have been. A month without talking to Carol and Tommy was like a well-needed detox without the withdrawals. Still, he missed them - but only sometimes. The thoughts were usually quickly stifled when Steve remembers how Tommy made him pay for a can of coke and some Advil after getting his shit rocked. Some friends. And while Nancy was (thankfully) back in his life, he still felt alone sometimes. Which scared him. He hadn’t felt this alone in a long time, always forcing himself to socialize to avoid being in an empty and cold house. Nancy meant more to him then he knew - not only was he thankful to have her back and be given another chance, but she also got him out of that house.

Nancy, Jonathan, and Will met at the bottom of the steps. Steve couldn’t really see, but he could kind of hear the exchange. His heart hammered in his chest - what if he didn’t like it? What if it was a shitty camera? What if Jonathan finds out he was the one that got it for him? But Nancy came back with an absent-minded grin and Steve smiled wide, relief flowing through him just at the sight of her. She sat beside him and he wrapped an arm around her, pulling her in close. He looked down at her in pure adoration - Nancy Wheeler was the most beautiful, intelligent, thoughtful, and badass person he’d ever met, and she was, somehow, his.

“Did you give it to him?”

Nancy looked up at him and nodded, still smiling a bit. “Yeah.”

Steve rubbed her arm and looked up at the television, suddenly overwhelmed with something. Something good and all consuming and wholesome. He hadn’t felt this good… ever. It was like something was set free in his chest, something that had never quite yet been released before. He looked back down at Nancy, her eyes focused on the television, her body pressed up against his.

He wants to say it. I love you. It’s on the tip of his tongue.

Instead, he presses a kiss to her hair. “Merry Christmas.”

Nancy looked up at him and smiled softly. “Merry Christmas.”

Beside them, Ted snored.

===

tags: @pterawaters​ @mpmarypoppins​

[lonbergwrites]

The Gross, The Bad, and The Unforgivable

A review of Undercover Bromance by Lyssa Kay Adams

 Let me start off by saying that this book has an instance of what clearly seems like sexual assault, wrapped up in a gloss of romance. Skip down to the “The Unforgivable” section for that information.

----

Normally, I don’t rate and review any books that I read for fear of poisoning the memory well. Normally, I wouldn’t rate and review a romance novel in particular, because it isn’t a genre with which I have much experience, nor is it one I have much love for. But the title and the fact that it showed up on a list of good romance novels for men from a source I trust made me pick it up in the first place. I’ve been trying to get deeper into the Writing Community online, and so many writers there are romance authors – and romance is such a popular genre generally – that I wanted to familiarize myself with the genre as I work on my own writing...

I’m making an exception to rating and reviewing this book because there were some truly, deeply problematic things going on here, on top of the bad/schlocky writing, and the gross descriptions so prevalent in my mind’s limited knowledge of what’s bad in the romance genre. So, in the following review I’m going to justify my one star rating of this book by describing The Gross [broadly, the terribly stomach-turning descriptions, characters, and plot points in this book], The Bad [the technical problems – especially in the plot], and The Unforgivable [the glossed-over sexual assault].

----

The Gross:

I’m going to jump right in on the most obvious issue I have with (my own idea of) romance novels: the sex scenes. But this isn’t going to be what you think it is; I am not a prude. Nothing turns my stomach faster than euphemistic language about body parts. “Her sex” is bad enough. This book also talked about running his fingers along “her slit.” But the description that almost made me hurl was “her pink bits.” Nope. Vomit. Say vulva. There is nothing gross about that word. A good sex scene is hard to write, and you don’t need to go full-on erotica (though honestly, I think hardcore erotica is far more enjoyable to read, more real, and sexier than the euphemistic stuff), but why have a very descriptive scene only to censor over the words everybody is paying their good money to read? Pick a lane. Give me actual adult sexual content, or have everything fade to black. Please?

I looked at a bunch of the reviews of this book, astounded as I was that it was so highly rated. Where language was used as a fault, the line “my vagina senses are tingling” was often cited. Cited as gross and crass. Sorry, this was a line I found truly funny and endearing, used as it was by a female character who was grossed out by the villain of the story, a serial sexual predator. To me, it was a great Spiderman reference, and an honest thing for a woman to say. I’ve heard such comments from female friends before. Seeing this comment from the romance reading community really saddens me, because not liking an honest use of body parts, but championing “pink parts” is only fueling the female body shaming that is so prevalent in our society.

“Now if you’ll excuse us, we have a happy ever after to start” is the line that ends the bulk of the novel, before the epilogue. Once you’ve scraped the vomit out of your mouth, there’s also the ending of the epilogue, where after the main character “proposes” off-handedly on the couch, they have sex, and then he asks her if that was a yes, and she confirms it, the narration says, “after she said yes he did things that made her say it a whole bunch of times naked.” Then they fist-bumped. End of novel. Yeah… Did I mention they’d only known each other for a little more than six months at this point? Yea, I think that’s kind of fast…

But romance novels are stereotypically bad in this department according to me, who knows little to nothing about them. What other gross stuff happened in this book? Let’s start with the male lead, Mack, who winks at everything in a skirt. There are paragraphs where he literally winks at the woman he’s talking to three times within said paragraph. She’s always super charmed. This is supposed to be endearing behavior. Then there are a whole chapter where the sex the characters are having is compared to the national anthem – wanting to sing it, wanting to wave a flag, saluting this with that appendage. Barf barf barf.

I could go on, but this book isn’t for me, really. I’ll just close with a line I really did like from the book: “Smells like a camel exhibit in here.” This line is said by the bros when they come in to rescue Mack from his depression on losing the girl, and they find him in squalor. This book could broadly be described as smelling like a camel exhibit.

 The Bad:

The biggest plot error I found in this book happened near the end. A group of the team is running to meet the “inside guy” who will distribute the dossier on the villain to the press as they march in to his book launch. They get there to find their inside guy knocked out, and another security guy holding the dossiers they were literally carrying to the meeting (he knocked him out to take them away, even though he didn’t know what was in them – not to mention that they weren’t actually there in the first place). Terrible editing!

There are other things – characters switching their mind on something deeply held from paragraph to paragraph, a convoluted plan to expose the sexual predator at his own event, and thinking that’s the only way to take the guy down, when in real life a reporter will take information at any time, not just when tricked into it. But it is the real lack of understanding of the human character that really bugged me.

The secret that Mack is carrying with him is that his father was abusive and murdered somebody, and is in jail. Mack changed his name out of embarrassment, and lies and tells people his father is dead. He is made into the villain towards the end of the book, because he “lied” to Liv, his love interest, about this. They had known each other for some time longer than a week and shorter than a month. They were not dating (she was adamant about that), and had slept together just twice. But he was a liar now, because he had a “secret identity” and lied about his father. People just accepted that that was a terrible thing to do. No! If that’s your past, it is yours, and you don’t owe that information to anybody that early in a relationship. Sure, you need to own up to it before you talk marriage, but not before you’ve started dating. This doesn’t have anything to do with his character, but his father’s. Shaming him for “not being honest” and having him have to come to terms with it, and be open about it publically, is just *not* something that he has to do. Weird morality here. I know it was stretched to add drama, but I think it does a disservice to his great trauma in life.

I don’t believe a group of people should take matters into their own hands to investigate a person on sexual harassment on behalf of other women. I don’t think they need to use their friend’s van (literally an FBI-style surveillance van that nobody seems to think it is weird that a friend just has – a van that never plays an important role except that it doesn’t drive fast). I also don’t think a former cop is going to play along in a game of entrapment with a bunch of youngsters out for the thrill of taking down a celebrity chef. I especially don’t think people are going to trust the “inside guy” who is the security guard for the big bad. There is absolutely nothing that any characters do (aside from taping the bad guy) that moves the plot forward. It is all them falling into luck or information that others provide. Everything happens to them. This is just not the makings of a well-written book.

The characters were also so bland and uniform, with the exception of “The Russian” who was all caricature and comic relief, and whose lactose intolerance goes into play when they almost got caught because of the smell of his fart while they were hiding. Hilarious? No. So juvenile. And also, it was from vegan cheese, which the author says “is still cheese” and thus causes him the same problem as cheese. Speaking as a chef, that’s not how lactose intolerance works.

And, can I quickly gripe about the fact that the tech whiz who can break into a computer in 2 minutes, take out the contents of said computer in 30 seconds, breaks down all the banking info in an hour to tie the sexual predator to dozens of victims financially, also says he will be unable to edit a video (literally cut it off at all), in the hour they have during a drive, so by showing the big bad to be the big bad, they will also expose Mack’s terrible history and show him too to be a liar? Remember, this is literally exposing that his dad was a bad guy… again, not seeing the problem for Mack (as if that would kill his reputation)… but also: press stop on the tape? In an hour I, a complete novice, could learn to edit video enough to be able to stop a video when I wanted it to stop. The drama was unnecessary, and the mechanism to achieve it is so utterly stupid.

I also don’t love the fact that it takes a group of men to save women who were the victims of sexual assault. I also don’t love the message that women have to be a certain way when it comes to coming forward (even though they try to say otherwise, it was very moralistic against anybody being quiet). I very much don’t love the fact that they called the sexual predator – who honestly had unwanted, forced sexual relations with many women – a mere “sexual harasser.”

 The Unforgiveable:

Let’s talk about consent. The second time the main characters have sex, Liv expressly says ‘hey, I haven’t given you consent to have sex again.’ He then says that fingering her isn’t sex. Then proceeds to finger her. Then grabs her, carries her to a bed insider her own house, and then has sex with her. Without actually obtaining consent. This isn’t even an instance of tacit consent, because both parties are acting in a certain way and advancing the same act. She literally denied him consent by saying he didn’t have it, and that was never cleared up. Even if she never said no again, that’s pretty terrible for him to just assume.

Also: this happened immediately after he just shows up at her house. They had had sex once. She said she’d call after 3 days. He comes over after two, not calling specifically because he said that she’d have probably said no to his coming over. It was dark, she thought he was an intruder. She hit him with a shoe. She has to apologize to him for hitting him, and clean him up. Hey. In my mind, this dude is a psycho at this point. If you don��t buy into the 3 days before a call, fine. But then you pick up the phone. Don’t just show up at a near-stranger’s house. Don’t do it at night. Don’t sneak up the stairs. And don’t get mad when she’d mad because you acted like a psycho. And then most certainly, listen to her when she says that you don’t have consent to have sex with her again, and go on fingering her immediately thereafter.

 This book is bad on a lot of levels, but the sexual assault scene tarted up to look romantic just made me seethe inside, especially because this whole book attempted to be a “bros don’t let bros sexually assault women” morality tale.

Rating: 1 very dim star of 5

[takaraphoenix]

60shannon replied to your post “60shannon: knightofsteles: Now, my boy, you are about to find… ...”

THIS!!!!!!!! All of this. Grandma could have totally survived and idk talk about family history. Jace didn’t have to go to Luke to ask about his mom’s mental health... he had grandma!!!! There should have been flashbacks of his parents or even his parents with Luke, Maryse, and Valentine. So many missed opportunities.... stop starting important storylines and then fucking drop it like it never happened. He’ll have Jace be a little shit for s minute because Herondales are ROYALTY and Lightwoods aren’t!!!!! There could have been finally I have a true family that doesn’t use me like a fucking pawn. Yes I’m still salty about that.     Heck they could have introduced the fact that his parents wasn’t all that in love and their awful tragic story. Or introduce his mom’s fucked Up parents. Sooo many things dropped and not even brought up. God this post is making me hate the show again ������

Yeah the whole “Herondales are royalty” thing was really brushed under the rug. But, then again, the whole entire system of how the Shadowhunters society works is... whacky at best and held together with duct-tape and throwaway lines at worst.

I was honestly, genuinely expecting to see Stephen and Céline in 3B. To have an actual, proper flashback of how. How things got this bad. How she could have submitted to Valentine like that. How they died.

Honestly, I think that - aside from learning what pacing is - the most useful tool for this show would have been to imploy flashbacks?

Stephen and Céline are only one example. The Circle, as you mention, is another one. They use flashbacks, very rarely. Like, Magnus as a child and how he killed his stepfather after finding his mother dead. Good flashback, solid flashback, serves the story, very nice.

But there are other instances where flashbacks would have served the plot so well.

Just, staying on the topic of Magnus, honestly I wish we could have seen Magnus/Camille flashbacks. Not because I ship it, but honestly because I would have liked to understand the ship. We’re presented with Camille as a cold-hearted bitch who just straight up kills Simon for no reason whatsoever and then we’re asked to care for her because, and it’s literally only given to us in one throwaway line, she saved Magnus’ life. So. What? I don’t know what that entails, I have no ties to that claim, I don’t care. I don’t buy that they ever were a happy couple. Use flashbacks. Show me Magnus and Camille in love, at the height of their romance, show me Magnus at his lowest and how Camille saved her life. Those literally don’t have to be long, they could amount to like 5 minutes in total. But they would have added so much.

I’d have really loved to see Circle flashbacks. Maryse, the loyal second in command who seemingly had kind of a crush on Valentine? Robert, Hodge, Luke, Jocelyn, Stephen, Céline - all of them, together. How and why they decided to follow Valentine. Because sure, sure, he is charismatic, but... this show essentially tried to redeem every single Circle member. On the one hand, we’re supposed to believe that the Circle was this group of terrorists. On the other hand, we’re supposed to like Maryse, Robert, Luke, Jocelyn, to a huge extend also Hodge. Then give me anything to go with. Show me why they fell for Valentine’s pretty words to begin with. Show me how he started off reasonable enough, how he wormed his way into their minds with words and then slowly, progressively got more extreme.

Heck, personally I would have also loved more on the Lightwood trio as kids. How Jace first came to the New York Institute. We’re told that Michael Wayland was Robert Lightwood’s parabatai... but... uh... Michael’s been dead for ten years and Robert never noticed that, huh? (And please, no comments from the book readers. I know the story, been told it by book readers before. This is about how the TV show has to deliver that too. There was never an in-show explanation as to why Robert didn’t know Michael had already been dead, there was never anything about that set of parabatai at all.)

[cbcdiversity]

WE ARE UNBROKEN: YA Authors Get Honest about Disability

By Marieke Nijkamp

In the new YA anthology UNBROKEN, #1 New York Times–bestselling author Marieke Nijkamp teams up with fellow disabled authors to create a collection of fictional stories that dispatch with the tired, broken stereotypes—and reclaim narratives and identities.

Below, Marieke and fellow contributors share what disability means to them and what they hope readers take away from their stories. You can view the full list of contributors here.

Marieke Nijkamp: Some days, I use a cane to walk. Some days, I use a cane to keep standing. I wear braces to keep my joints together, a back brace to keep my back straight. Some days, I’m more support than own strength. And on those days, I’ve found, people stare a lot. (When I’m lucky, staring is the worst thing they do. Staring, and quickly turning away when you try to meet their gaze.) I do not fit with their preconceived notions of disability. I’m too young. Too seemingly able-bodied. Too blue-haired and sharp-tongued.

I began to decorate my cane the moment I realized people stared. I used insulation tape and wound it around the length of the cane in different colors, obnoxiously, wonderfully rainbow. I figured, if people stared anyway, I would give them something to stare at.

Next were multicolor braces and slings. A cane with an eagle’s head. One decorated with leaves and birds. Colors and shapes and pieces of me.

It began as a means to challenge unwanted attention, but it soon turned into something more. A way to personalize assistive devices, extend my style, and to reclaim myself. Another step on the path from internalized ableism to disability pride. It was the moment I realized a thousand stares couldn’t define me, but how I chose to handle them, did.

Every disabled person I know has experienced moments like that, of (continuously) discovering what it means to be disabled, personally and in the context of the world around us, for better or worse. It’s certainly true for the contributors to UNBROKEN: 13 STORIES STARRING DISABLED TEENS. Which is why I brought them all together. Because those moments deserve to be shared. In their stories. In these blogposts. And in doing so, hopefully showing other disabled readers they’re not alone and we’re all in this together.

I’ll let some of my fantastic contributors share with you their moments, and what they hope readers will take way from UNBROKEN:

“I remember once upon a time, when I was young and freshly diagnosed, thinking that I had to find a solution to my bipolar. A cure or a medication or some kind of fix to the way I was. It took a while and a lot of ups and downs (ha), but these days I realize that I don’t need a solution, because my bipolar is not a problem. It creates problems, for sure, and those need handling. But the illness itself is nothing to be ashamed of. It’s just a part of who I am. I wish I’d known that sooner, but I’m happy to know now. That’s what I hope readers will take away from this collection. Honestly, the stories are beautiful, but if there is one thing for any disabled teen to remember about the book, it is the title.”

-Heidi Heilig

“Being a wheelchair user in elementary school sometimes made socializing tricky. Sleepovers, field trips, Girl Scout camping trips—all logistically difficult. But sometimes my disability made me queen. Like at Sparkles, the local roller skating rink, where I would lead a chain of my peers, the first holding onto my power chair's handlebars, the rest holding onto each other and whooping as I sped around the rink full-speed. The slick floor offered no resistance, no drag. When the chain behind me was long enough and my speed great enough, I'd turn, sharp and sudden, to see how many people I could send flying off, their joyous screams echoing back to me at the head of the party.

What I most hope people get from my horror story is a thrill, a tension, and the unique pleasure of something's not right here. But what I most hope people get from the book as a whole is a beautiful glimpse of all the many stories we have to tell. I hope people leave the book hungry for more.”

-Kayla Whaley

“My kid's first steps were suitably adorable, but that's not what we're here for. Try not to infantilize her efforts, even though she was a literal infant at the time. Her legs wobbled. She held the edge of an oval-shaped coffee table and taught herself new ways to negotiate with gravity. I used a walker and a cane rather than a coffee table when I relearned how to walk, so I knew exactly what my kid was doing, and how it felt, when she launched herself away from that table.

This is not a story about overcoming adversity with pluck and grit. I still use a cane. In all likelihood I always will. I've also written a cane sword into every single one of my novels so far, and I’m particularly fond of the one in my contribution to UNBROKEN. This memory is a moment of kinship and recognition. A small human taught herself how to walk. I bore witness to those first steps while remembering my own.”

-William Alexander

“When my doctors started trying to figure out what sudden pain and sleep-all-day exhaustion were about, I was sent to a specialist clinic. Their advice was that ‘pacing myself’ meant doing no more than 5 minutes of activity (including personal care/ cooking etc) in any given day, for weeks, and maybe gradually build it up to ten if I could cope. Along with ‘you should get used to the idea that you might only ever manage an hour’. I sat through one session and I quit.

It wasn’t going to work for me. My first book had just come out, there was promo and another book to write. I had a day job. Bills to pay. A home to maintain, a body to feed and care for. Friends whose lives I wanted to be part of. All the usual life stuff.

I…probably see-sawed back and forth between having energy and spending too much of it more than was wise, in those early days. I definitely tried ignoring advice from friends who’d been there. But I’ve got better at knowing limits and when and how to push them. Generally there’s still a trade-off somewhere – a bargaining for the next (or biggest) curtain call. We all do it, I think, disabled or otherwise: some of us just have to haggle better. Which is where A Play In Many Parts comes in.

With UNBROKEN, disabled readers have a collection which could very well hold several iterations of themselves (I know there are several separate pieces of me I can see in here). That feeling – the feeling of being seen – is huge. And abled folks might catch their first glimpse of us all as (messy, human) heroes instead of cautionary tales.”

-Fox Benwell

“I live with cerebral palsy and I didn’t always like or love myself because of it. In fact, I hated myself. I thought I was ugly and unlovable for most of my life (I’m 27). UNBROKEN is an anthology of stories starring teens and I spent all of my teenage years being terrible to myself. I think this experience is worth talking about because I know firsthand that it’s not easy to see our worth sometimes. We question why we don’t see ourselves in mainstream media in a positive light and why we aren’t good enough. The thing is, we are good enough. I was good enough back when I didn’t like myself and now, that I do. The only difference is that I didn’t know it then. I believed I had to hate myself because I was different. We shouldn’t hate our differences, we should celebrate them! They’re beautiful, messy, & complicated.

My story, Mother Nature’s Youngest Daughter, is about a young girl named Millie who is being bullied. She is also trying to find her place in the world and in her family. Millie fights back. That was important to me, she’s a young girl who loves herself in a way I did not. I wanted to let readers know they didn’t have to wait until adulthood to love & fight for themselves. I wanted them to see a black girl with a disability be loved, be strong, be angry, be happy, and bold without apology.

In the collection as a whole, I know that readers will get to see themselves in a vast amount of characters who share experiences they don’t often get to see in other literary circles or mainstream media. These kids are heroes WITH disabilities and not despite them. I hope that encourages them as much as it has me.”

-Keah Brown

Marieke Nijkamp is the #1 New York Times–bestselling author of This Is Where It Ends and Before I Let Go. She is a storyteller, dreamer, globe-trotter, and geek. She currently resides in her home country, the Netherlands.

[beccaland]

Beccaland reads and responds to an article about Doctor Who that she really should have known better than to have read in the first place

You know how you KNOW you should never read the comments sections, but sometimes you just can’t help yourself? That’s usually how I feel about reading articles about Doctor Who during the past few years, except from a handful of trusted sources. Yet there I was this morning, checking my regular email from Tor.com, and out of a slightly-morbid curiosity, I found myself reading “How It Feels to Want to Watch Doctor Who Again” by Alex Brown.

Partly, I really am interested in the fans who are getting interested in Doctor Who again. They left for a lot of reasons, and really you can’t begrudge anyone’s waning interest in a TV show. And it would be far, far more silly to begrudge them regaining interest! I’m excited for the awesome changes that are coming on October 7th, too. And I am fully aware that not every era is every fan’s cup of tea. On the other hand, I also know that I’m frequently irritated by the shallow criticism levelled in order to “justify” some fans’ disaffection. So there I was. Reading an article I knew very well was probably going to annoy me, like a masochist.

And just because I feel like it, I’m going to quote a bunch of it and offer my own commentary. I’m going to be as fair as I can, noting where I think a given critique is valid, where I think it’s valid but still disagree, and where I think it’s the same old tired, inaccurate nonsense.

Here we go:

“I miss Doctor Who.”

ME TOO!

“There was a time when I watched it fervently, reverently, passionately. It was something I put on when I was stressed or overwhelmed or needed to be reminded of the good things in life. The relationship wasn’t perfect, but it was powerful and affirming.”

Yeah, I do that too, but I never really stopped.

“Until suddenly it wasn’t.”

I mean, sure. Doctor Who did something on a purely personal and emotional level for the author, and then it stopped. That’s totally fair.

This actually happened to me with the novels in the ‘90s–they just weren’t doing enough for me imaginatively or emotionally anymore to justify the challenge of finding them and the expense of buying them. It happens. (I still wanted Doctor Who in my life though, so I rewatched my VHS tapes instead, until they had degraded in quality to the point where that wasn’t very fun either.)

“The show twisted into something unrecognizable and unpleasant. And so I abandoned Doctor Who just as it had abandoned me.”

The really negatively loaded language here bugs me a lot, but this article is a personal fan narrative more than it is a review, and it’s impossible to refute a subjective response. Clearly, it’s true that Alex Brown and the show were no longer on the same wavelength. So, fair enough.

“If you asked me in 2016 if I would ever watch Doctor Who again, I probably would’ve shaken my head and sighed. The chances of the show making the kind of changes necessary to pull me back seemed slim to none. But here we are, fall 2018, and I am so excited about the Season 11 premiere that I can barely stand it.”

I’m really happy about everyone coming back. I share this excitement!

[I’m omitting a couple of paragraphs here where Brown describes more of what Doctor Who meant to her when she first encountered the show during an obviously extremely difficult time in her life. It’s really moving, and I find it relatable in some ways.]

“With the takeover by Steven Moffat in 2010, my relationship with the Doctor shifted dramatically. As much as I loved Doctor Who, I wasn’t blinkered to its myriad problems.”

See, my issue with this is simply that it implies that people like me ARE “blinkered by its myriad problems.” We’re not. But sometimes we disagree about what those problems are, or where the blame (and praise) for those problems (and their amelioration) properly lies. Hence this post.

“Trouble was, the annoying but tolerable issues were magnified into something unbearable by Moffat’s numerous faults as showrunner. Under Moffat, seasons went from episodic romps loosely knitted together by repeating themes—think “Bad Wolf” Easter eggs throughout the first season—to Lost-style mystery box seasons bogged down in an increasingly convoluted and grimdark mythology.”

I think it’s fair to say that the series 6 arc in particular was much heavier than previously attempted by the show, and this was a turnoff for some viewers. Personally, I liked it a lot conceptually, but I acknowledge that it could have been better executed. It’s also not representative of Moffat’s whole era; he experimented a lot with structure. That in itself was probably frustrating to some viewers–again, I liked it a lot, but that’s neither here nor there.

However, calling the Moffat era “grimdark” is frankly bizarre. It seems to confuse a shift in LIGHTING with a shift in TONE. The Moffat era’s TONE was, if anything, substantially more hopepunk than the RTD era (to say nothing of Torchwood, which Brown also professes to adore).

“River Song, Cybermen, Daleks, and the Master work best when used sparingly,”

Yeah, I agree.

“but Moffat dragged them out of the toy box so often that they lost their appeal.”

A criticism that (aside from River, for whom YMMV) applies equally to the RTD era.

“Even the Doctor suffered from too much focus. Doctor Who is a show that flourishes when it cares more about the people the Doctor helps than the Doctor. The Doctor is much more interesting as a character who drops into other people’s stories than when everyone else exists only to serve the Doctor’s narrative.”

This is a matter of taste, and on that level cannot be refuted.

But I’m not actually sure it’s true that the stories in the Moffat era focused more on the Doctor than was the case in previous eras. It didn’t seem that way to me. I suppose one could develop some way of objectively evaluating the validity of that premise, but I’m not going to go to that much trouble.

“Worse, women went from equals with their own vibrant lives to codependent followers.”

This is not merely a matter of personal taste. It is an assertion about content of the sort which could hypothetically be supported by evidence. If it were true. And it is literally the opposite of true. It’s a gross mischaracterization of the Moffat era companions, and moreover ignores the sometimes-problematic characterizations of the RTD era companions. I’m skipping the rest of that paragraph, which merely rehashes worn-out, shallow readings of Amy and Clara’s characters. I have nothing to say about those arguments that I haven’t said elsewhere before.

“[Moffat’s] seeming disdain for how fans interpreted the series,”

Showrunners SHOULD disdain how fans interpret their work. Or, more accurately, they should ignore it. Since fans are a motley bunch, the alternative would be a total lack of creative vision, either deeply bland or utterly fractured.

“for critiques of his own biases and bigotries,”

In reality, Steven Moffat demonstrated a remarkable openness to critiques of his biases and made steady progress in addressing them both in front of the camera and behind the scenes.

“and for the depth the show was capable of became a virus that infected everything.”

From where I sit, Doctor Who demonstrated far more depth during the Moffat era than during the RTD era (and some of the deepest scripts in RTD’s era were written by Moffat and according to RTD, barely touched by his editorial influence). I’m willing to consider the possibility that the RTD era displayed depths that I failed to perceive, but given the number of times I’ve rewatched it and the fact that I study texts for a living, I have to say I think that’s a long shot. I would welcome a persuasive analysis of the depths of the RTD era.

“I have never been one to shy away from dropping shows that I no longer like, but I held onto Doctor Who longer than I should have. I finally tapped out after the frustrating penultimate episode of Season 6, “The Wedding of River Song.” Reductive, repetitive, and boring, the episode encapsulated everything I couldn’t stand about Moffat’s storytelling.”

OK, Brown has got a point there. I love TWORS for purely personal reasons (it was just FUN, in the same way that the more crazy-ambitious failures often are in Doctor Who), but I’m under no illusions about its quality. In addition to being “reductive [and] repetitive” that episode was also rushed and full of holes. I didn’t find it boring, but that’s a subjective thing.

It’s a bit weird though that Brown claims to have quit watching Doctor Who at the end of series 6, since earlier she critiqued both Clara and Moffat’s “over"use of Missy, both of whom post-date Brown’s purported exit. Hmm. Seems like (as is not uncommon, in my experience) people who dislike Moffat base a lot of their dislike on mere hearsay.

"Although Moffat drove me away from Doctor Who, other factors kept me from coming back. A not insignificant chunk of my exhaustion came from the frustratingly limited diversity and the frequently poor treatment of characters of color—see Martha and Bill, plus the weirdness around the few major interracial relationships.”

OK, this is approximately half fair. There WAS a frustrating lack of diversity which continued well into Moffat’s era. Martha and her weird marriage to Mickey are RTD’s doing entirely. And the author claims not to have ever seen series 10, so she’s hardly in a place to evaluate Bill’s treatment (which, for the record, seemed pretty great to me–vastly better than in any previous era, anyway, though there’s no doubt that there is still room for improvement).

“Prior to Season 11 there had never been an Asian or South Asian companion despite the fact that people of South Asian ancestry make up nearly 7% of the population of England and Wales, according to the most recent census. Islam is the second largest religion in the UK, yet Muslims are also largely absent from the show, and certainly from the role of companion.”

This is a totally fair criticism.

“Moffat said it was hard to cast diversely without impinging on historical accuracy,”

Gonna want a citation for that one; I admit it’s possible he said something like that at some point but I feel like I would remember if he had.

“a notion that is patently false and wholly ignorant of actual history.”

A point which Sarah Dollard makes in the series 10 episode “Thin Ice,” with the enthusiastic approval of Moffat himself.

“To be fair, Moffat also admitted this claim was nonsense and rooted in a white-centric view of history and acknowledged that the show needed to do better…then made absolutely no changes.”

Thanks for being fair…almost. In fact he made substantial changes during his tenure, though most happened after Alex Brown quit paying attention. Seems to me that if you’re going to write an article for a blog affiliated with a major SF publisher, you might actually want to check your facts rather than relying on information that’s several years out of date (if it was ever true).

“And don’t even get me started on frequent Moffat collaborator and Who writer Mark Gatiss who infamously whined about diversity initiatives ruining historical accuracy because they cast a Black man as a soldier on an episode about Queen Victoria’s army battling Ice Warriors on Mars.”

Yeah, this I do remember. Ew, Gatiss! What were you thinking?

“Not to mention Moffat’s asinine declarations that we couldn’t have a woman Doctor becausehe 'didn’t feel enough people wanted it’ and 'This isn’t a show exclusively for progressive liberals; this is also for people who voted Brexit.’”

This is also the man who wrote the first-ever gender-changing regeneration (of the Doctor, no less!) in his comedy special, “The Curse of the Fatal Death,” the first female incarnation of a previously male Time Lord (Missy, who turned out to be incredibly popular), and the first official, non-comedy, on-screen gender-changing regeneration scene (the General, in Hell Bent), thus paving the way for even many of those non-liberal, Brexit-voting audiences to accept a female Doctor, and making it virtually impossible for the BBC not to do it without looking like total assholes (though by that point they were totally on board and needed to further persuasion).

But sure, go ahead and cherry-pick a couple of real-but-not-representative Moffat quotes to perpetuate your misogynistic Moffat pseudo-narrative.

[Cutting the rest of that paragraph because it adds nothing to the critique]

“Why can’t we have a trans or disabled companion? Why can’t the Doctor be a queer woman of color?”

These are totally legitimate questions, and we should keep asking them.

“Do you know what it’s like to be told by someone in a position of power that you don’t belong here? That you are an aberration, a glitch in the matrix, that including you would be so inaccurate that it would collapse the narrative structure of a fictional television show that features a frakking alien traveling through time in a police box?”

Yes. I do.

And when you dismissed Amy and Clara as mere sexist stereotypes, mere codependent hangers-on of the Doctor, you re-inflict that wound on me and many other fans, because you’ve been granted a position of power, a platform in the blog of a major international SF publisher.

“Hearing that message all the time from pop culture is hard enough, but to get it from my favorite show was heartbreaking.”

I feel ya, Alex Brown. This needs to continue to be addressed.

But I’ll also remind readers that the Moffat era, despite its still-too-limited representation, gave us more disability representation than any other era of the show up to that point.

“Cut to the Jodie Whittaker announcement in July, 2017. For the first time in years, I watched the Christmas special—live, no less. To give credit where credit is due, Moffat’s swan song exceeded my (very low) expectations and Peter Capaldi was as excellent as I hoped he’d be. Whittaker had almost no screen time, but what she did get left me with a smile a mile wide.

"On top of her pitch-perfect casting, Thirteen will also be joined by three new companions, one a Black man and another a woman of Indian descent. Plus, the Season 11 writers’ room has added a Black woman, white woman, and a man of Indian descent. Several women will also be directing. New showrunner Chris Chibnall proclaimed that the renovated show will tell 'stories that resonate with the world we’re living in now,’ and will 'be the most accessible, inclusive, diverse season’ ever produced.

"These changes go beyond tokenism and into real diversity work. The show isn’t just sticking a woman in the titular role and patting themselves on the back. Diversity can’t just be about quotas. It must be about inclusion and representation in front of and behind the camera. Marginalized people need to be able to tell our own stories and speak directly to our communities. The majority already gets to do that, and now that conversation needs to happen across the board. The show still has a lot of work to do, both in terms of undoing the status quo of harmful tropes and in laying strong groundwork for later casts and crews. Yet, somewhat surprisingly, I feel hopeful for the show’s future.”

I totally agree with these three paragraphs (except I had high expectations of TUAT, which were also exceeded). In fact these paragraphs are a big part of why I felt like this article was worth sharing. I just couldn’t do it without significant reservation.

“And isn’t hope what the show is really all about? Doctor Who is a story about the hope for a better tomorrow, faith in your companions, and trust that you’re doing the right thing. It’s about a hero using their immense powers responsibly and in order to benefit those who need it the most. The Doctor creates space for the marginalized to stand up and speak out, to fight for their rights against those who would silence or sideline them.”

I’m not totally sure that that’s ever really been true before, but it’s an ongoing aspiration that the show keeps moving closer to.

“For too long, that ideal was lost to puzzle boxes, bloated mythology, and trope-y characters”

No it wasn’t. See above.

“but with the appearance of each new Thirteenth Doctor trailer, my hope grows a little more.

"It’s not often that you find your way back to something you loved and lost. At first, Doctor Who was a touchstone during my trials and hardships. Then it became a cornerstone in the foundation of the new life I was building. For a long time I left it encased in a wall, hidden in the basement of my subconscious, untouched and unwanted. Yet here I stand, sledgehammer in hand, putting a hole in that wall. I have set free my love of Doctor Who as Jodie Whittaker cheers me on. October 7 can’t come soon enough.”

This sentiment is really lovely. Welcome back, Alex Brown, and every other fan returning to Doctor Who after an absence of any length and for any reason. It’s shaping up to be a great new era.

Please remember, though, when talking to other fans, that other eras meant as much to some of them as this one means to you, and for similar reasons.

To those who are leaving because of toxic discourse about previous eras making them feel like their presence isn’t welcome and/or participating in fandom right now will only cause them pain: I’m going to miss you. I hope your DVDs and Big Finish and stuff continue to bring you joy. I hope you’ll come back again when it’s safe to do so.

To those who are leaving because they don’t like the idea of a female Doctor and/or two POC companions: BYE BYE! To be honest, nobody will miss you, but nevertheless I hope that eventually you realize how silly and harmful your biases are. When you do, I hope you’ll come back to Doctor Who. And you’ll be welcome.

[written-rebellion]

Perfect Distractions

A/N: Happy Thursday! And Merry Christmas in May I guess? I actually wrote this chapter ON Christmas Eve, so you can sort of get an idea of just how long I’ve been sitting on this fic, writing only for myself LOL 

Jamie plays Santa Claus, Claire de-ages roughly 16 years, and as always, all the facts of this fanfic are contrived specifically to make fluffy university/modern-day au scenarios. Please let me know what you think!

Part One: [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] | Part Two: [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] [Chapter 4] | Part Three: [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] | Part Four: [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] | Part Five: [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] [Chapter 4] | Part Six: [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] | Part Seven: [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] | Part Eight: [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2]

Part Eight: Give and Take | Chapter 3

Sufficiently filled with both food and Christmas Eve cheer, Jamie had passed blissfully out with Claire pressed against him.

It wasn’t until the wee hours of the night when he rolled over, already searching instinctively for her warmth, that he awoke to an empty dent in the mattress where Claire should have been. He floated up to consciousness, bleary eyes adjusting to the room’s darkness only to focus on the angel in a white nightgown leaning against the edge of the window.

He rose slowly, feeling some sort of reverence about her that he didn’t want to interrupt just yet. Before him was a nearly cinematic still, with Claire’s dark hair brushed out so the curls gently hung just past her shoulders. The moonlight seeping through the window picked out her features like a fine artist: the upward wisp of her lashes, the auburn strands often hidden by the darker brown of her hair, the light like fire in her gold eyes. Without realizing, he had padded slowly across the room towards her.

If she knew he was awake – he thought she must, considering how close he was to her now – she made no move to acknowledge him. Instead, she filled her lungs slowly and contently as he wrapped his arms around her from behind, nestling his chin in her neck.

“What are ye thinking about, mo nighean donn?” He peered up at her as she closed her eyes and smiled softly.

“Just imagining, I guess,” she replied in a whisper. “You and Jenny, and Ian and William gathered around a Christmas tree opening presents.” She pressed her cheek to the top of his head with a chuckle. “You all must have looked like one of those TV advertisements, with the fireplace going and everything.”

“Aye, our parents always liked proper Scottish tradition and spectacle for us kids. Jenny thought to keep it that way for wee Jamie as well. Church in the morning before any presents, aye?”

Her eyes had focused on something far off in the field and he clamped his mouth shut, instead tightening his hold around her, anchoring her before her thoughts carried her away.

“What were your Christmases like, a nighean, you and your Uncle Lambert?”

She snorted, her nose wrinkling.

“They were spent mostly on planes or hotel rooms, or the occasional university hall.” She took a moment to sigh, running a hand smoothly down Jamie’s arm until she could twine her fingers through his. “I did get in trouble once, when I was seven or eight, for digging up a very small pine tree and insisting we bring it into our hotel room.”

They both laughed, swaying gently with each other.

“Verra determined lassie, ye were, aye? But then, ye still are, I guess.”

She sighed again, her head lolling back onto his shoulder as she stared at the ceiling.

“I’d seen Christmas trees enough times to know I wanted one.”

He felt a small twinge of guilt in his chest. How many Christmases had he celebrated without a care, living out traditions he thought festive, but mostly commonplace, while Claire was out there dreaming of those very things? He kissed her neck, drawing her back to him.

“Will ye help me then, mo chridhe?” he whispered, lips lingering on her skin. He knew there was a ridge forming between her brows without having to look.

“With what?”

He grinned up at her, eyes shining. If it was a proper Christmas she wanted, he’d make damn sure she got one.

“A verra integral part of the Fraser Christmas experience, aye?”

“Oh? And what might that be?” She narrowed her eyes at him, evidently trying for nonchalant even though – with him pressed so tightly against her – he could literally feel the dart of excitement that ran down her spine.

He straightened his back, reluctantly letting his hands fall from her waist, and kissed her forehead before walking over and reaching for the large wrapped box hidden underneath his bed.

“’Tis about midnight or so, aye? We’ve got to place wee Jamie’s gift from Santa under the tree.” He tucked the gift under one arm and extended the other to her. “Will ye help me?”

She tried to contain her smile, but her eyes were as alight as wee Jamie’s were expected to be in the morning.

“I’ll take that as a yes?” he laughed, taking hold of her hand.

“Lead the way Jamie Claus,” she said, swinging their arms as he walked her out the door.

“Ye ken how adorable ye are, Sassenach?”

“Bah humbug,” she said, swatting his arm. “I’ll have you know, I—Jesus H. ROOSEVELT—sorry!” She clapped a hand over her mouth.

Jamie would have let out a barking laugh if he knew it wouldn’t wake up the whole house. Jenny had finished up the decorations in the living room and left the tree lights on. The red and green glow flickered intermittently against Claire’s pale skin and her wide, spellbound eyes.

He was sure he had the same look on his face, only it wasn’t the tree he was staring at.

“They’re no’ going to bite ye, Sassenach, go on.”

She stayed rooted to the ground a second longer before dashing ahead of him to ogle the tree up close.

The fireplace was smoldering, a comfortably natural glow working in odd harmony with the artificial lights on the tree. Both painted Claire’s white nightgown in soft washes of colour turning and changing like a kaleidoscope as she circled the tree and mass of presents slowly.

He’d never really given a thought to Jenny’s decorations before, or at least not since he was a child, but he found himself following Claire’s gaze, mirroring her smiles and gasps as she spun an ornament or poked at a bit of tinsel.

Christ, what was God thinking when he made this woman? Fierce and stubborn, with eyes that could storm and yet, were still capable of such childlike wonder.

He watched her, mesmerized, even as he slid wee Jamie’s gift under the tree. It was only when she crouched to survey the neatly wrapped gifts – done up in smooth craft paper with ribbons tied by Mrs. Crook and Jenny’s meticulous fingers – that Jamie turned his back to her. He headed for the large grandfather clock in one corner of the room, lifting a cookie from the plate on the desk as he strode by.  

“What are you doing over there?”

He turned, amused that she was still paying him even the slightest of attention. He scarfed down the cookie, retrieved the two presents he’d hid inside the clock and closed the door softly, sliding the smaller of the two into the back of his waistband.

“Remembered I was still in the room, did ye?”

He stopped her imminent reply with a cookie held right up to her open mouth. She took it and looked up at him from under her lashes.

“Don’t try to distract me.”

“I didna think I had to try, Sassenach. No’ with the tree doing such an excellent job.”

She smiled at that, taking a bite as Jamie slid past her to bend and place one last gift under the tree.

“Who’s that one for?”

“Fergus,” he replied, frowning at the lopsided ribbon. “Didna seem fair for him to miss out on the fun, simply because he showed up a bit late to the party, aye?”

Claire bent next to him, pressing down a stray piece of tape on the wrapping with her thumb.

“You did that?”

He shrugged. “‘Tis a far cry from Jenny’s work, aye?”

She kissed his cheek, then snuggled her head into his shoulder.

“You’re really something, James Fraser.”

“Aye? And what does that make you, a nighean?”

Her hand reached for his and laced their fingers together, tugging him up with her as she stood. He couldn’t seem to look away from her, not that he’d ever been able to do that. Gold anchored blue and vice-versa as their arms naturally curved around each other’s bodies.

“Thank you for this,” she said finally.

He squeezed her waist in acknowledgement, too content in her arms to ruin it with words. Her hand, however, drifted down his back and – before he could react – grabbed the thin rectangular box he’d had tucked inside.

“Claire!” He snatched it back immediately as she tried to muffle her laughter before the whole house woke up.

“And who’s that one for, hmm?”

“What’s yer best guess?” he said, holding it some distance away from her, just in case.

Comprehension bloomed slowly into a smile.

“I suppose it is Christmas day already. Shall I give you yours?”

“Well, that all depends.”

She blinked, head tilting to one side.

“On what?”

The corner of his mouth quirked up, one eyebrow rising in delicate suggestion.

“On whether we need to head back to the room for ye to give it to me.”

“Ha bloody ha!” She rolled her eyes, undoubtedly enjoying his whine of protest as she stepped out of his arms.

“Ye laugh, but ye’re still walking back to the room, are ye no?”

“I’m getting your present. You are going to wait right here for me—with your clothes on, James Fraser!” she added with a pointed finger before she left the room.

Another whine of protest, only stunted by his grin as he watched her go.

Read Chapter 4

[ad-drew]

The Shaman Society | An Excerpt, Part 4

Second draft is coming along well, got through a couple more chapters. Cutting stuff that doesn’t need to be in a scene or a paragraph and suddenly things flow so much better is a wonderful feeling. In any case, here is another excerpt featuring a couple new characters for the first time (at least in these excerpts). This one’s a bit longer, but oh well. I try not to give too much away in these, but there’s some small spoilers are inevitable.

Also, I’ve noticed other writeblrs including tag lists on their updates, and I was thinking of doing the same, if anyone out there would be interested. Just let me know and I’ll be sure to tag you when I post another excerpt or any other information regarding my WIP.

---

“Oh, come on!” said Christine, with a snorting laugh. “You totally are!”

Rei pinched the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger, exhaling a quiet grumble. “For the last time, I am not a magical girl.”

“Is that so? Let’s see…” Christine raised a hand, counting off each point on her fingers. “You’re part of a secret society that fights evil monsters. Check. You’re powered by a magic gem. Check. You can magically change your outfit on a whim. Check! You even have a mystical companion!” She gestured behind them, where Asami followed a few steps back, glancing between the pair of them with an amused smile. “Check, check, and check!”

Rei cringed. For as long as she could remember, Christine had loved the magical girl genre. If the series featured flashy action, cutesy girls fighting evil, and overdrawn, pseudo-sexual transformation sequences, Christine consumed it the same as the air she needed to breathe. So much so, she could point out every single similarity to Rei’s new “secret identity,” as she called it. Oh joy.

“I swear to hell,” she said, with a stern shake of her head, “if you start comparing me to Sailor Moon, I’m gonna puke.”

Christine held a hand over her mouth, suppressing a giggle. “Personally, I’d say you’re more of a Sailor Jupiter, but that’s just me.”

“What is this ‘Sailor Moon’?” said Asami, leaning in to join the conversation.

“Oh, a character from an anime,” said Christine. “Have you seen anime? Actually, do ghosts even watch TV?”

Asami’s brow puzzled together. “I have not heard of anime, no, but when I was with Rei’s mother, I did enjoy some television programs from time to time.”

“Oh, awesome! What about movies? Have you seen Star Wars?”

“I’m afraid not. But I would be happy to watch it sometime.”

“Heck yeah!” Christine pumped a fist into the air. “Movie night with a ghost!”

Asami raised a correcting finger. “Actually, we prefer ‘spirit.’”

“Oh, sorry. Spirit.”

Rei watched the two with a quiet smirk. Good to see them getting along. Definitely an improvement over Christine’s stuttered babbling yesterday, when Rei had first introduced her to Asami. Not that she could blame her. Meeting a ghost and learning about a secret, magical monster-fighting society wasn’t something most people expected to deal with on a given Saturday afternoon.

Fast forward to Sunday morning, when Christine’s initial shock had vanished in place of overwhelming fascination and intrigue, which wouldn’t have been so bad if she hadn’t then vehemently tried to explain how Rei now was, in fact, a magical girl.

“Oh, speaking of which,” said Christine, giving a quick look around, “should we be worried about people noticing Asami? I mean, pasty dead women in kimonos aren’t exactly common around here. Plus, she’s literally transparent.”

Rei followed Christine’s look. A long row of buildings lined the street, packed with various small businesses and boutiques. The center of Milton wasn’t exactly a booming hub of activity, but it did have most of the essentials. She spotted the local bakery, and the dry cleaner’s next to it. Duskwell Theater lay farther down, across the street from a barber shop. Among the steady flow of cars driving by, several handfuls of pedestrians strolled along either side of the street, enough that walking in the company of a plainly visible dead woman might be cause for alarm. If they noticed her, of course.

“There’s no need to worry,” Asami said, with a bright smile. “I can be seen only by those I wish to see me, and right now that includes you and Rei.”

Christine lifted a brow. “Oh, well that’s handy.”

The trio rounded the corner of the Fresh Mart grocery store when another group of girls nearly walked into them. Christine yelped and shuffled out of the way, while Rei performed a poor excuse for a pirouette to avoid a shopping bag to the face. The only real casualty of the near-collision was a cup of frozen coffee one of the other girls dropped when trying to dance out of Christine’s path. The plastic cup exploded when it hit the sidewalk, splashing a mess of mocha slush across the girl’s pristine white shoes.

“Oh gosh, we’re sorry!” said Christine. “I swear, we didn’t see—”

Christine’s voice froze mid-breath. Standing across from them with mouth agape, staring down at her mocha-painted shoes, was Jessica-freaking-Palmer. Of all the shitty people to run into—could have at least had the decency to spill that coffee over the front of her stupid crop top. Tammy and Sarah, Jessica’s usual flunkies, stood on either side of their ring leader, both carrying multiple shopping bags and glaring at Rei and Christine with upturned noses, as though they’d stuck their faces over an old toilet.

“My coffee!” said Jessica, with a contemptuous groan. Her gaze flicked upwards and found Christine, who shrank back a step. “My God, watch where you’re going!”

“Seriously, you’re the worst,” added Sarah.

“Yeah!” Tammy said, with an indignant stomp of her foot. “What the hell’s your problem?”

Christine swallowed, grabbing at the hem of her leather jacket. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”

“No, don’t you apologize to them.” Rei stepped in front her, scowling at the three girls. “They’re the ones with the problem.”

“Says the psychopath.” Jessica pointed at her own face, where a thick nasal splint taped across her nose. “I have to wear this for another week thanks to you. I’ll be lucky if my nose isn’t crooked!”

Rei couldn’t help herself. She flashed a grin and said, “Well, that’d be an improvement, wouldn’t it?”

Jessica’s jaw fell open in a silent gasp. “You—you—!”

“Aww, what’s the matter? Tongue-tied already?” Rei’s smirk widened, goading Jessica into taking a step forward. That’s it; give her a reason. “Guess you never were any good with words. You up to a solid D+ now in English?”

Before Jessica could lunge, Tammy pulled her back by the shoulder. “Forget it, Jess, they are so not worth it. Just let them go make out or whatever.”

Jessica looked to Tammy, back at Rei, and again to Christine. With a disgruntled huff, she backed off. “Ugh, fine. Got better things to do anyway. But this isn’t over.” She pointed at Rei. “Don’t think you get a free pass when you get back to school because your folks went and died, got it?”

Rei’s face burned. Red flashed in front of her eyes, and the entire street corner blurred around her, blood pumping so loud through her skull the only thing she heard was thunder between her ears. Tammy and Sarah both screamed. When her vision cleared, Rei had Jessica pinned against the brick wall of the grocery store, one hand to the back of her neck, the other wrenching her arm backwards at an awkward angle. Jessica shrieked, tapping her free hand against the wall in futility.

“What did I say?” She yanked Jessica’s arm harder, causing the girl to squeal with a desperate sob. “Next time it wouldn’t be your nose! How about an arm!”

Tammy and Sarah jumped on her. She fought them, maintaining her grip even as the two girls started smacking the side of her face. They pleaded at her to let go, but she ignored them. Insult her grandparents, huh? Insult their deaths? That was worth another broken bone. Maybe two.

A third pair of hands grabbed her. “Rei, stop! It’s not worth it!”

Christine’s voice cut through the mayhem, and Rei lost focus. Her grip slipped from Jessica’s arm. Finally, Tammy, Sarah, and Christine dragged them apart. Jessica recoiled away from the wall, eyes wild with tears. A small line of blood cut across the side of her forehead. Rei stepped back to the edge of the sidewalk, chest heaving.

Tammy and Sarah ran to their friend’s side, but Jessica pushed them off. Still staring at Rei, she clutched her arm and scrambled to her feet. “What the fuck is wrong with you!”

“Shit, you’re bleeding,” said Sarah, pulling her friend along the sidewalk. Jessica didn’t fight this time, hurrying along after her. “Come on, let’s get out of here!”

“Fucking freak!” Tammy shouted, scurrying after the other two. “Screw you and your dyke girlfriend!”

When the other three girls were gone, Rei calmed herself to the point her lungs stopped gasping for air. She swallowed, looked to Christine. “I’m sorry. I was—what she said—”

“No, it’s fine.” Christine’s focus shifted into a somber stare at the ground. “I get it, believe me. They’re awful.”

Rei’s fingers gave an involuntary clench. Awful didn’t cover it. Loser, freak, dyke—those were the tamer things Jessica’s posse had called Christine over the past three years at every goddamn opportunity. Those, Christine would brush off with a smile and awkward laughter. The worse things? Those left her crying in the bathroom through entire classes. Those left Rei showing up on her doorstep with two pints of mint chocolate chip ice cream when Christine was too miserable to leave her house. Those made Rei want to bash Jessica’s stupid, smug face into a locker until she choked on her own teeth. One day, maybe she’d get the chance.

Fucking Jessica Palmer.

[mahalidael]

OLYMPAHOMA CHAPTER 2

I GET A BANJOECTOMY

I woke up in the hospital. I assumed I’d had a panic attack or and got delusional before fainting. It wouldn’t be a first for me.

One look down the hospital gown told me that that wasn’t the case. The big bandage on my belly said as much.

I laid in bed, and I knew that at least a little of my hallucination was true. But how much?

Dad stumbled in, looking haggard. A cop and a doctor followed him. The cop was a frowning middle-aged woman. The doctor had a bleach job, which struck me as odd.

“Annie! You’re awake!” Dad threw his arms around me.

I hugged him back. “I’m okay, Dad… maybe don’t jostle me.”

Vivian bounded into the room. She was in a way better mood than someone should be after their child got stabbed — though, I’ll give her the benefit of the doubt, she didn’t consider me her child. And that’s a terrible thing to say, but it was true. Vivian had only been with my dad for maybe a year, and I was so distant that she barely knew me.

Still, watching my stepmother smile like that right after a surgery was a little insulting.

“Good news,” she boomed. “The museum’s not charging us for the damages.”

“Damages?” I said.

“From the smoke alarm. They had to evacuate, and part of the Greek and Roman exhibit is blocked off by the police.”

“Great. Uh, hey, what did the twins tell you?”

“Hm?”

“Did they tell you why they were at the museum?”

Vivian drummed her fake fingernails on the table next to the bed. “Rosalie said that you convinced them to sneak out so they could do their Literature homework. And then they said you got bored and dropped a water balloon on a security guard’s head, so let’s make it clear, the only reason you’re not in trouble right now is because you’re already missing a kidney.”

I groaned. Assholes!

Dad coughed politely, a very obvious I-want-to-say-something-but- I’m-afraid-of-conflict cough. I know this cough because I’ve had this cough. He gestured toward the cop. “This policeman, she’s here to ask you some questions.”

I blinked. “Questions?”

He patted my head. “You were attacked in the museum. You’re lucky you only lost a kidney, but the police still don’t have the guy who did it.”

I was asked what my attacker looked like, if I knew him, why I was at the museum. I told him everything, but understandably I was given a lot of blank stares. “I was probably in shock,” I explained, but I knew that still didn’t add up. Moosie took his glasses off before I was stabbed.

The cop explained that I had been rushed to the hospital for an impalement wound to the gut. She said that when they found me the Greek and Roman exhibit was a big mess. There was a big hole in my stomach, but no weapon. There was no apparent attacker. And the strangest thing — was a big black burnt spot, right in front of the Polyphemus statue.

And that’s when I had that thought that only manslaughterers and Steve Urkel can have.

“…Did I do that?”

I figured, “no… I couldn’t have done that.” I wasn’t even sure why I thought that was my fault — I got stabbed and passed out; it’s not like I could have done anything. But going back over that memory with the police, I felt like I was missing something.

And then Rosalie and Genevieve showed up.

To their credit, they seemed more upset than Vivian was. Rosalie seemed genuinely freaked out when she walked in, and looked like she’d lost sleep for a while before that. Genevieve holed up in a dark corner with her phone, so I couldn’t tell if she was guilty or annoyed that I had gotten her caught sneaking out.

Rosalie squeezed me around the waist as the cop she’d shoved out of the way spluttered in protest. “Annie! You’re alive!”

“Yes, I am, but if you keep hugging me my other kidney’ll pop out,” I wheezed. I get that they were happy to see me, but what part of “recovering from surgery” did they not understand?

Rosalie released her death grip, and I flopped back onto the bed. She was wearing her dingy, school-issued backpack. Wait, school? I was at the museum on a Saturday. How long had I been out?

“What day is it?” I coughed.

“Monday, Annie,” my dad said.

I must have been staring swords at Rosalie and Genevieve, because Dad had that cough again; he knew there was something I had to talk to them about. He turned to the cop. “How about you talk to Vivian and I outside?”

The cop frowned. “Sir, we would really like to—”

“Their sister almost died,” Dad said.

“I WHAT,” I said.

“Just let them have a moment alone,” he continued.

“I ALMOST WHAT,” I said, Rosalie hugging me again.

Dad moseyed out of the room with Vivian and the cop as if he hadn’t just casually commented on my near death experience. Seriously, what was up? Was everyone hiding something from me?

I pushed Rosalie away. “Don’t touch me.”

Rosalie cocked her head. “Why not?”

“You know what you did,” I said. “You lied about the water balloons.”

Genevieve said “I actually did that.”

“Get over here so I can kick your ass,” I squeaked.

Genevieve snorted.

I threw my pillow at her. She didn’t flinch.

“Annie, if we get in trouble, people are going to keep a close eye on us,” Rosalie said, glancing away guiltily. “And that’s not what any of us need right now. So I figured, you’re already injured. Pinning the water balloons on you wouldn’t do much harm?”

“Do much harm?!” I snapped. “Your mother hates me! More than usual!” I ran out of steam and began coughing.

“See, that’s why. People are mad, but they won’t punish you.” She grabbed a tube leading out of my arm and waved it in my face. “You’re on machines just to stay alive!”

“That’s an IV and it’s keeping me hydrated.”

Rosalie stopped and dropped the tube. “My point still stands!”

“And I don’t suppose you have anything to do with it?” I said. “You act like you’re hiding something.”

“Yeah, I’m getting to that. Hey, Genevieve?” Rosalie said.

“Yeah?”

“There any security cameras in a hospital room?”

We waited for Genevieve to look it up. “No,” she said.

“Thanks.” Rosalie turned back to me. “I went looking for you after the smoke alarm went off.”

I raised my eyebrows. “What happened?”

“Rosalie threw up,” Genevieve said from her corner.

“Shut up,” Rosalie said. “So I did find you. It was a big mess. There was a funny burning smell… wasn’t nobody there except you and me.”

“Did you find the weapon?” I said.

“The what?”

“The thing that was used to stab me. Like, a knife… or a sw—?”

“Nah, I didn’t see anything of the sort.”

“Oh.”

“I did find this, though.”

Rosalie took her backpack off of her shoulders and threw it to the ground, where it landed with a loud twang. She reached into the bag, and she pulled an object out… and out… and out.

“Rosalie?” I said.

“Yeah?”

“Is that the banjo?”

It was the banjo. It was in terrible condition, but that wasn’t a new development. The last time I’d seen it, it was dusty and held together with strips of duct tape. Now the neck had some dry stuff on it — blood? That seemed reasonable. It should have been in the splash zone when I was stabbed.

“I thought it was weird,” Rosalie said. “I put the banjo up earlier, but when I came back to find you, it was laying in the middle of the floor.”

“How’d it fit in your bag?”

“I don’t know, it just… kept going in.” She paused. “Any reason why a banjo would have been involved in your de-kidneying?”

“Uh, the security guard just picked it up. I don’t know why.”

“You think he shoved a banjo through your kidney?”

“Maybe?”

We all got quiet for a while, because what do you even say to that?

Oddly, the banjo seemed smaller than when I’d last seen it — when I was at the museum, the top had come up to my chin, but somehow I could now hold it comfortably.

I played with it until Genevieve finally said “hey, are you playing the crime scene banjo?”

“Ain’t nothing better to do,” I said. “Why, do you have a request?”

“Put that thing away,” she snapped.

“I’ve had this banjo lodged in my kidney, I think I’ve got a right to play it.”

“I refuse to go to jail because you wanted to play ‘Cotton Eye Joe.’”

“Hey, don’t tempt me.”

You know what sucks? Child proof caps.

For the next couple weeks, I occupied myself by trying to bite the lid off my bottle of painkillers. I was advised to not do anything strenuous, which was inconvenient for everyone. Vivian was especially miffed.

In spite of what she’d have you believe, Vivian is a washed up actress. Her plan b was to take up the family business — bed, breakfast and/or booze. A woman from an Oklahoma tourist trap had approached her on Craigslist, offered to sell her an old saloon. The plan was to move there shortly after the wedding.

I was actually looking forward to it. There wasn’t anything for me in Alabama. The problem was Dad.

Dad was strangely stubborn about staying. In the whole of his relationship with Vivian, he’d let her call the shots, except with this — and it wasn’t even about moving. It was about Oklahoma, specifically. Every time we turned around, he’d come up with another reason why Oklahoma was the worst state in the country. “Literally, the part we’re moving to is called ‘No Man’s Land,’” he said. “Did you know that they’ve got an average of fifty tornadoes in a year?”

“Yan, that’s the same number we get in Alabama; you’re not gonna change my mind. Besides, the moving van is already outside. Why are you being so bull-headed about this?” Vivian said. “It’s like you’ve gone mad.”

Dad pinched the bridge of his nose. “It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it, dear.”

On top of that, weird shit kept happening to me as I recovered — not on the level of moosie the sword cop, but still bizarre.

The schedule change meant that I had to stick around for the last day of school.

After Dad married Vivian, I was transferred to Dillon, a “nicer” middle school. Nicer in quotation marks, because while the education was supposedly better, the dust was disgusting, the morals were deplorable, and the building was threatening to collapse at any second. And oh, that school was so blonde, any classroom could be mistaken for a Hitler Youth meeting.

I was shy and Asian and funny-looking, but I wasn’t a punching bag — worse, I was a toy. Let’s catfish Annie. Let’s steal from Annie. Let’s follow Annie into the bathroom and turn off the lights while she’s trying to piss. On and on and on.

At lunch, I went to the bathroom and took out the little bottle of painkillers I needed with every meal. I had to take them in the bathroom because people kept trying to buy them from me in the cafeteria.

I suddenly remembered that I would have gym class that afternoon. That class was bad at the best of times, but it was the last day of school. Anything could happen.

So I decided to take a couple extra pills and let God sort it out.

Bad plan. Bad, bad plan.

I got more restless after taking the pills. Something felt hot and uncomfortable at my back, and I wanted to scratch at it.

I tried looking up the side effects of oxycodone, but Erowid was blocked on school computers. So I was stuck with something on my back that was either a hallucination or an egg sac full of venomous spiders.

If there’s any benefit to losing a kidney, it’s that you don’t have to do jumping jacks. The bleachers were down today — and Dillon had these death trap steel bleachers. If a kid fell down there, he was just gone. Before the accident, you couldn’t pay me to touch it, but I was so high I was ready to run up them.

“Go faster!” Jim Janowski yelled. “If you die, we won’t have to change into our gym clothes!”

Jim would fall over if I blew on him too hard, and he knew it. He used this to his advantage, playing the weak card on that one day that I finally snapped and tried to throttle him. I got suspended for “beating an innocent student” and he got a light warning.

Also, he borrowed fifteen dollars from me on the first day of school.

And in a brilliant moment of opioid-induced stupidity, I decided I would collect.

Holding my head high, I jumped from the bleachers and landed on my feet. I walked over to Jim with the most murderous look I could muster. He was flapping his mouth, but there was just a faint crackle in my ears.

I reached back to punch him…

And then I barfed on his shoes.

The whole gym exploded into screaming, and so did Jim. “She did that on purpose!” he screeched.

I was starting to sway a little bit, and the gym coach strode over to me and put his meaty hand on my forehead. “Jesus tits, she’s burning up.” He turned to the other kids. “Kids, stay with the other coach. I’m going to call Annie’s parents.”

It was too good to be true. For once, I was getting away with something. I was also sick as a dog and high as a kite, but hey: you win some, you lose some.

At the nurse’s office, I complained about the lump between my shoulderblades. The nurse asked me to take my shirt off. She looked right at it and frowned.

“There’s nothing there,” she said. “Do you want me to call your mom? Or your dad?”

“My dad, please,” I said.

When she wasn’t looking, my hand went back to the lump. There was definitely something there. It was hard, like there was something under my skin.

While feeling around, I felt something start coming out of my skin. I must have been really out of it, because instead of getting disgusted and telling the nurse, I kept picking at it.

After a minute or so, I had pulled a small fragment of… something out of my back.

I was dumbfounded, because it was a smouldering piece of coal.

And I’d never seen coal in real life before, but it couldn’t be anything else, because it was brittle, and black, and glowing with heat. I could feel how hot it was, but it wasn’t burning my fingers. It wasn’t burning me at all.

The coal burst into flames.

I yelped “what the fuck” and chucked it at the wall, where it exploded into black dust.

The nurse ducked into the room and frowned. “Why haven’t you put your shirt back on?”

I felt at the place where the lump had been. My hand came away bloody. “Can you look at my back one more time?”

She looked again. “There’s still nothing there. Annie, are you feeling alright? I’m not supposed to give medication, and I’m out of mints… I might could give you a candy cane. I don’t think they’re expired.”

“A candy cane would be nice,” I muttered.

The nurse stepped out after that. I took the opportunity to patch myself up. Maybe the wound wasn’t real, but on the off chance it was, I didn’t want to bleed out. I found a big Hello Kitty bandaid, slapped it on the apparently invisible hole in my back, and then put my shirt back on.

“What the fuck,” I whispered as the nurse came back in.

“Can I go to the bathroom,” I asked.

“Sure, sugar, but go quick. Your dad’s gonna be here in a minute.”

I walked away, fully intending to go cry in the bathroom.

Okay. I wasn’t an expert, but I was pretty sure I’d taken too much oxycodone. I could pretend I had the flu and sleep it off… assuming I didn’t die.

I felt like I was getting better, though. After getting that thing off my back, the fever seemed to go down. Or something. I wasn’t entirely sure how that worked.

Shit was just too weird. I needed to sit down.

The bathrooms at Dillon didn’t have doors, just an angled hallway that kept anyone from seeing into it. That made it very easy for somebody to walk in halfway, hear something interesting happening inside, and stop to listen.

I had walked in halfway when the lights went out. I opened my mouth, but before I could snap at whoever was pranking me, the lights came back. But they were different lights.

They flickered, but not like an aging fluorescent bulb. These lights flickered like candles. Two shadows appeared on the wall I could see, cast by the two people in the room.

The first person said “we need to talk.”

It was a familiar voice. Because it was my dad’s voice.

The second person laughed warmly. “Hello to you too, Yan.” Her voice sounded sugary and… equally familiar, but I had no idea why. “Oh dear, that’s a look,” she said, voice full of concern. “What’s wrong?”

“I know what you’re doing, and I want you to stop,” Dad said, and I was shocked because he never got this angry.

The woman sighed a little bit. “I told you, I’m not doing any of this. It’s happening on its own.”

“She was fine earlier!” Dad said. “She was — walking around, and doing homework. Normal things.”

“You can’t pretend she’s normal forever—”

“I don’t care!” he snapped. “You can’t make Annie go to that damned state!”

I froze.

“...Are you quite done?” The woman said. “Because I’m trying to explain myself.”

Dad huffed. “Not nearly, but go ahead.”

“Yan, I know you want to pretend Annie’s a normal girl, but you need to face facts. She’s different. And now that she’s maturing, she’s about to get a lot more different. All we can do is hope she survives it—”

The candy cane snapped in my hand.

They stopped. After a moment, Dad said, “I swear, this building is going to tumble down one day.”

Okay, I was done pushing my luck. I quietly backed out of the angled hallway.

I went back to the nurse’s office and laid down until Dad came in.

We got in the truck and went home.

Dad said “how are you feeling?”

Eh… confused. Betrayed. Kind of dizzy. “Fine.”

He nodded. “Do you feel good enough to move tomorrow?”

I had actually looked forward to moving. There was never anything of value to me in Alabama, and going west had seemed like an opportunity. Now I was less sure. “Yeah,” I said cautiously.

When he got out of the truck, I said “Dad, can I stay here for a second?”

He frowned. “Is something wrong?”

“I’m fine, it’s fine.”

He closed the door and went in the house.

I took a deep breath, and said “WHAT THE FUCK.”

[just-another-winchester]

Kappa We All Just Get Along?

Series Summary: You didn’t have the easiest life, after losing your family you escaped everything you knew and went on the run. You were young and alone, until you meet the Winchesters, a long overdue meeting. Now together the three of you will face adventure, horror, romance and suspense. The Winchesters become your lifeline, and you become theirs. But you have no idea what kind of adventures you’re really in for.

Word Count: 2,269

Warnings: None

Chapter Summary: You and the Winchesters caught wind of a case and head to Bayfield, Wisconsin to investigate a little girls stolen horse and some strange deaths.

A/N:  Another huge thanks to my girl @amanda-teaches for being my beta editor. Part 2 is coming soon. I'm having so much fun writing this! Thank you guys for your support! Love you all and hope you enjoy this chapter! FEEDBACK IS MY SUSTENANCE!!!

Catch Up Ya’ll!! MASTERPOST

You could remember Your family reminding You to take baby steps… of course that was when you had a family that weren’t two crazy monster killing men.

Sam and Dean Winchester were a force to be reckoned with, that much you had gathered before meeting them, but you were just as stubborn as the two of them combined, which, in the long run, meant that they had no chance.

“And, why can’t I go out with you guys?” you demanded.

At the moment, the three of you were sitting in their motel room somewhere in Iowa.

For the past month and a half, you had been with the boys, but Dean insisted you stay at the motel and do the research. You were literally on lockdown, and although you loved the man, you wanted to hold a pillow to his face til he stopped breathing.

“We’ve been over this Y/N, we don’t need your blood on our hands,” he said.

“Did you forget that I spent more than ten years on my own? With nothing but a kitchen knife? Literally living on the streets? Dean, I know how to take care of myself. You taught me how to fight yourself,” you insisted, practically desperate to get the hell out of the damn motel.

Dean shook his head again, his green eyes settled on you with a hard look of determination.

Sam sat quietly on his bed, letting the two of you hash it out, just waiting to see who came out on top. You figured he was betting on his big bro, well… you would make sure he would come to regret that wager.

“Okay, first of all, teaching, not taught. You still can’t fight, and second, did you forget you also told me you weren’t intentionally seeking out monsters? It’s dangerous for you right now, Y/N. You’re not a hunter, you’ve admitted that to me yourself. I made my decision, and I’m not changing it, so stop whining,” he said to you, making you even more tempted to grab that pillow.

“Dean-” you tried, but he cut you off

“Y/N,” he warned, giving you a steely glare, “I’m not kidding. You’re staying in the room, end of discussion. You’re the one that wanted to come along with us and we let you, so you play by our rules,” his words sent a pang of irritation through you.

“Sam?” you said, looking to the man. Sam looked up from his laptop and gave you a shrug.

“I think you should be able to go,” he said honestly. You were ready to strangle him for not speaking up earlier.

“Excuse me?” Dean demanded, turning to his brother. You sat back and decided to watch the two of them.

“What? She’s proven herself capable every step of the way, she should be able to go on a hunt with us,” Sam informed Dean, causing the hunter to glare at his younger brother before turning back to you.

“No,” he said coldly. You huffed, crossing your arms. “So then we’re not playing by ‘your’ rules,” you said to him, gesturing between him and Sam, “we’re playing by ‘your’ rules,” you finished, pointing at Dean.

“Yeah,” he admitted, looking at you. “And my rules are gonna keep you safe. I’m not telling you that you can never go on a hunt with us, it’s just easier if you stay here and do the research like you have been.”

You wanted nothing more than to argue further with him, but you couldn’t deny he was right before. You had agreed to abide by their rules, whether those rules were Sam and Dean’s, or just Dean’s. You weren’t happy about it, but you would let it go for now.

Deciding to move on from the argument, you turned to Sam, raising your brow.

“Okay, so what is this case?” you asked the tall man. Sam sat up and moved to sit at the edge of the bed.

“Little girl, Diana Greene. One of the horses from her family’s ranch went missing. Apparently, Diana says it was a theft, she says she saw a giant frog steal her horse.”

You frowned, cocking your head slightly. “Oh wow, okay. That… yeah I have nothing to say to that. Alright, I’ll go grab my stuff.” You sighed, leaving the room to gather your things.

Dean’s Pov

Y/N left the room to pack her things while Dean sighed, watching her leave. The girl was more trouble than he’d thought, and way more stubborn than he’d given her credit for. He looked over at Sam, ready to tear into the guy for not backing him up.

“What the hell was that?” Dean demanded of his little brother. Sammy looked up at Dean. He sighed and shook his head.

“Dean, she’s not four. She could help us out,” he said. Dean just stood from his seat at the table and grabbed his bag.

“Yeah, she can help us out, from safely inside the motel room, researching,” he said. “She’s not ready to be out in the field yet, she can’t fight, I still haven’t showed her how to use the damn guns. She’ll be a liability and, what’s worse, she could get herself hurt or killed. I won’t have her blood on my hands.”

He basically repeated everything he had told to Y/N, almost wishing he had a better argument. Not that he needed one. He wasn’t going to sit around and listen to his brother and Y/N argue with him about this. She was staying in the motel, end of discussion.

“Okay, so when will she be ready?” Sam asked the eldest Winchester, making Dean scoff and shake his head.

“I don’t know, okay. That depends on her, but I ain’t letting her out there, and I’m done explaining myself. When she’s ready we’ll get her the fake I.D’s and everything, maybe even throw a party,” he said sarcastically, “but until I say she’s ready she’s staying.”

Sam pursed his lips and nodded. “Okay, fine,” he said, accepting that it was Dean’s call.

Dean personally didn’t care what either of them thought. Sam could try and reason him into letting Y/N into the field all he wanted, and he had no doubt that she could argue with him till her face was blue, but he wasn’t going to fight about this anymore.

Y/N was staying safe if he had to tie her to the bed and tape the phone to her ear and the laptop to her hands.

________________

Your pov

Once the three of you had packed up, you left the great state of Iowa, where the boys had just finished taking care of a werewolf.

The case was in Bayfield, Wisconsin, which made Dean excited for some reason. It was probably related to cheese though. That thought made you smile.

You’d been on the road for a few hours when Dean piped up, back to his usual dorky self. You swore he was such a child sometimes.

“Hey, ya know what? We should go see the world’s largest ball of twine,” he said enthusiastically.

“What, you mean for the hundredth time?” Sam asked his older brother. You sat in the back seat with a book on your lap. Dean had put you on research duty, but that didn’t just mean you looked up what you could for the case. You had to learn your monsters.

Monsters, ghosts, pagan gods, anything and everything that he thought you might be facing. He had Sam start you with a few books which were currently piled beside you as you looked up at the sound of the boys conversation.

“Well, maybe Y/N hasn’t seen it,” Dean pointed out.

“Seen it,” you said, as you studied up on something called a Rakshasa.

“Boy, you two are buzz kills,” he muttered under his breath.

“Says the guy who has me on book duty,” you reminded him. You could see Dean’s stance tense up.

“Y/N,” he warned. You held your hands up in surrender, making sure they were visible in the rear view mirror.

“Alright, alright,” you muttered, not giving him another reason to stop being his playful self.

You silently hoped he would try and suggest a couple other tourist attractions to go to. Sure, you had pretty much seen it all but, still, you couldn’t deny the adorable smile he got on his face when he was excited about something.

When Dean didn’t speak up, you smirked at a thought, offering up a tourist attraction.

“The Don Q Inn might be a fun place to go,” you shrugged, smirking at the questioning look both boys gave you.

“It’s a motel. Apparently you can do weird stuff like bathe in cheese,” you said. Dean immediately looked like an excited child.

“Wait… you get to bathe… in cheese?” he asked.

You chuckled, nodding. “Yes, Dean.”

“Oh, we are definitely going there… after the case, I mean,” he muttered.

His reaction to the cheese bath made you chuckle. Shaking your head, you focused back on your book. You felt like mentioning the giant statue of beer a few hours away, but it might give him a nosebleed or something.

You arrived in Bayfield a few hours later. The road trip had been quiet mostly, aside from Sam quizzing you a bit.

Dean pulled the Impala up to a motel, going in to get rooms.

“For what it’s worth, I really do think you should be able to do more than research,” Sam said to you, making you look up at him and offer him a smile.

“Thanks, Sam, I appreciate that. But, clearly, there’s no arguing with your brother.” You shrugged. “It’s not a big deal anyway. He is right, I never deliberately approached danger in the past, and I really don’t know how to defend myself. If something were to happen, one of you could get hurt trying to help me. Maybe giving it time is the best go.”

Sam smiled and shook his head. A light chuckle left his lips and you raised a brow. “What?” you demanded suspiciously. Sam just looked back at you, his soft eyes meeting yours.

“Nothing.” Sam muttered, a small smile on his lips as Dean opened the door and sat back in the car.

The conversation ended as you and Sam shared a look that Dean either ignored or didn’t even notice as he turned the key in the ignition and moved the Impala, driving around and pulling it up in an empty space closer to the rooms.

Once he parked and turned the car off, he cleared his throat

“Alright,” he said, handing you your key as he turned somewhat to look at you in the back seat. You raised your brow in question as he sighed at you. His hand came up again, this time it had a cheap track phone.

You frowned at him as he gave you a look. “Take it okay,” he said. You reached out and took it, the skin of your fingers brushing against his palm.

“I already put my number, Sam’s, and Bobby’s in for you. Anything happens, you find something, you call us,” he said. “I’ll call later to see what you found.”

You nodded at him, shoving the phone in your jean pocket and sliding out of the car. Dean climbed out with you and unlocked the trunk for you so you could grab your bag.

“We’re going out to the farm to talk to the little girl and see what we can see. Have your ringer on so you can hear it,” he instructed you as you slung your bag over your shoulder.

“I got it, Dean. I can figure out a cell phone, I promise,” you assured him, giving him a smile. He looked down at you, seeming like he wanted to say something, but he didn’t speak up, so you did.

“I’m not mad at you, Dean,” you said to him. His eyes met yours for a brief second and you felt a sudden desire to hug him. He didn’t respond to your words, instead pulling out a wad of one dollar bills.

“For the vending machines,” he said. “When we get back we’ll bring food, but I don’t want you to starve if it takes a while.” He let you take the cash.

“Thank you,” you said. Dean just nodded. “We won’t be too long,” he promised, “Call or text me if you go any further than the snack machines in the laundry room.” You smirked and nodded.

“Ya know, Dean, I think I’m growing on you,” you said to him, making Dean scoff and shake his head slightly.

“I think you’re a pain in my ass,” he muttered, going back to the driver’s seat.

“I KNOW I’m a pain in your ass, but you started it by letting me join,” you smiled. Dean just gave you a look.

“Yeah whatever, just call if you find anything,” he reminded you before sitting down in the car.

“Will do!” you called as he shut the door. You unlocked the door to your room and walked in, smiling as you went to the window and opened the curtain and gave him a thumbs up.

You saw Dean roll his eyes through the windshield of the Impala, laughing aloud as he pulled out of the spot and drove away. You watched him with a smile, the Impala disappearing as you chuckled to yourself, sighing and turning back to your gross motel room.

Oh well. Time to work.

TAGS ARE WIDE OPEN! JUST ASK!

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[estajay]

Watching and Tugging from the Sidelines

For @nuclear-tides for @dearevanhansensecretsanta 

A bit long and meandering but hope that you’ll enjoy it!

Happy holidays and a prosperous new year!

AO3 link

Jared arrived at the Hansen’s doorstep to find a stack of two dozen pizza boxes in front of the door where a receipt and a polite ‘Thank you for delivering, please place the order here’ note was taped. Most would assume it would be for a rowdy party thrown while the parents were absent, fitting for the food and quantity ordered, but it was Evan who lived here. The guy who barely made it through standard social interactions without a panic attack willingly doing anything that involved a large amount of people behind his mom’s back? Unthinkable.

Aunt Heidi must be out because there was no way that she would let her son pull this trick when she was home. The ability to both pay and order online was both a blessing and a curse. On one hand Evan wouldn’t be starving himself every night because of the dozens ‘what if’s’ that ran through his head whenever the doorbell rang. Delivery guys were just doing their job and if a sticky note asked them to leave the paid pizza on the doorstep, who were they to argue? Evan would have come up with a dozen reasons for otherwise but then again jumping to several worst case scenarios over the most mundane things was just what he did. Jared would help out when he could back then, coupled with a bit of teasing and asshole behaviour that Evan somehow tolerated over their years of friendship, but he lived two towns over couldn’t come over every time Aunt Heidi had overtime or night classes or her ‘other job’. So less social interaction for the hermit in the making but at least he wasn’t passing out from malnutrition.

The pizza was cold. That shouldn’t have set off any alarms but the pizza was cold. It could just been forgotten there or something but Evan would have heard the rumble of a motorcycle and the delivery guy would normally ring the doorbell. Evan would have waited a couple minutes for the delivery guy to leave but he would have raced to the door and back to grab the food before anyone could blink an eye. If Evan was still waiting the pizza should still be somewhat warm but the pizza was cold.

Maybe the delivery guy was a jerk and dropped the pizza off cold but that didn’t normally happen. Evan would have snatched the pizza up even quicker if the guy was late to the point he might have actually answered the door like a normal person. Maybe both Hansens were ‘out’ for the night which was even more unlikely with Evan’s arm still in a cast slowing him down and maybe even making him a liability on the field, something that Aunt Heidi would never risk. Even if she did, there wouldn’t be a pizza order in the first place.

There was cold pizza on the doorstep and Evan’s ‘I’m starving but I still won’t answer the door’ note and this city was nothing like the grit and gloom of a settlement that Jared had started to call home. He was probably overthinking everything like he used to tease Evan about all those years ago. The pizza was cold and nothing was probably wrong. Jared gave a hollow chuckle, to think his paranoia would ever rival Evan’s anxiety. At least he had been asking for it, jumping to the streets in a leotard and pixie boots, unlike his friend who was born with that ingrained in his mind.

Jared scooped the pizza boxes in one hand and unlocked the door with his key, the one Aunt Heidi had given him years ago, instead of obnoxiously ringing the doorbell and forcing Evan to answer it. He entered quietly. Just in case something was going on inside.

Everything was still the same inside as it had been for the past ten years. The shoe rack by the door, the family portraits along the walls and the little bonsai might as well have been Aunt Heidi’s first grandchild. The Hansen household was a once-boring now-treasured constant in Jared’s life. From his nomadic childhood to giving up a literal circus of elephants and acrobats for the circus fake smiles and business deals of the upper class, this place and the small family who lived here were still as welcoming back then as they were now.

Turning the corner, Jared sighed in relief to find a distinctly Evan-shaped lump on the couch curled up in a red blanket. The tv was on but muted, subtitles popping up underneath the news report of the Flash and Superman assisting in the emergency flood relief.

Damn and after all Aunt Heidi did to clear out her schedule and bullying Bruce into letting Jared come over for the revival of Taco Tuesday, it turned out to just be a regular Tuesday.

Jared dropped the boxes on the kitchen counter considering the dining table was already spread with bowls of taco stuffings and shells. Evan would probably want to wait for his mom before getting started on the tacos but that didn’t mean that Jared couldn’t microwave some pizza in the meantime. If Evan ordered, he must be starving but if he didn’t grab it, he must be worried. Well, more worried than normal.

Jared returned to the lounge room with two reheated cheese pizzas in hand. Evan’s focus was still locked on the words and pictures on the screen, completely unaware that Jared had even entered his house. Evan was worried, even though Aunt Heidi had the man of steel as backup and the speed to outrun anything in harm's way. That wouldn’t soothe his friend’s nerves, Jared knew, unless his mom was right next to him on the couch or that he was out there with her. That was why Evan gave himself a chemical electrocution after all.

“So do you ship it?” Jared said, plopping the pizza on the coffee table and himself beside Evan.

Evan spluttered, nearly falling off the couch in his attempt to sit upright. “Jared! But - When did you -? How…? Why would you even - ?”

Jared leaned back into the couch, remaining casual as he sorted through the bits and pieces of Evan’s high speed rambings. “Let myself in about ten minutes ago - and yes, through the front door. I’ve got a spare key, remember?”

Evan straightened himself up, peeved and probably berating himself for being caught off guard. “I thought we agreed to tone done on the ninja-thing.”

“Around the team, yes. But between old family-friends, different story.” Heh, family-friends. Jared used to hold that over Evan’s head back when they were kids, when he was a giant brat and Evan was a permanent fixture to the hem of Aunt Heidi’s skirt. The only reason they hung out was due to their moms being friends. Now though, it was something different. “Besides, nothing beats scaring the crap out of you.”

“I will push you off the couch.”

“But can you get past my reflexes?”

“I’m faster than your reflexes.”

“And you’re easy to anticipate.”

“Do you really want to test that?”

“How about after we get something down your gullet first?” Jared held one of the plates to Evan’s face.

Evan swatted it back and looked away. “Not hungry.”

“With your metabolism? Unlikely.”

“Mom’s going to be home soon for tacos.”

“And you’ll be out by then.”

“I won’t.”

“Do you want your mom to come home and find you passed out, again?”

“That was one time!”

And then there was a grumble. Evan blushed and Jared threw him a wide ‘I told you so’ grin.

“...pass a plate.”

The tv was unmuted and turned up several levels higher than need, masking the sound of Evan demolishing the pizza. He was eating relatively slowly, Jared could actually blink between each slice’s disappearance, but the couch was vibrating with nervous energy. His eyes were still trained on the screen with his ears soaking in the newscaster’s embellishments to turn a report into entertainment. Not that the plastic faced lady needed to, superheroes were involved so that made it instantly interesting.

Evan was still worried. Some random scene of a building crumbling, a loss of footing and not being fast enough reeling in his mind while reality played out on screen. A simple ‘She’ll be fine’ won’t cut it, it never did.

“So superflash, do you ship it?” Jared said instead, earning him a desperate choking sound and a scandalized look from Evan.

“Why would - why would you say that?!” Evan coughed.

Jared grinned and leaned further back into the couch. “Well they have been seen together an awful lot lately.”

“The Flash and Superman are the two fastest heroes in the League.” Evan countered with an unspoken ‘and the Flash is faster’. “Of course they would be the first there on any scene.”

“And the Big Blue has been sighted pretty frequently around here in Central City.”

“We’re close to Metropolis, he could just be passing by.” “And hasn’t a certain ‘Mr Kent’ been visiting your mom lately?”

“He wants to be a better parent for Jeremy, what’s wrong with that?!”

“And so did Green Arrow. And Aquaman. And Batman.”

Evan opened his mouth but nothing but half formed words and halting stutters came out as his face slowly grew more red. All his previous worry was gone replaced with sheer replacement.

Jared couldn’t help but keep egging him on. “So what are the chances of Supes being your step-father to-be?”

“Iamgoingtogetmorepizza!”

And in a flash Evan was gone. Jared smirked as he followed the retreating blur at a more leisurely pace. Sure it was a bit mean for teasing Evan about Aunt Heidi’s past not-boyfriends (one of which was his current guardian which was not a bit weird at all) but he had a feeling that this was after more than the Flash’s unparalleled parenting advice. He had seen that look before on a certain clone swooning over a musical-obsessed martian. There was a reason that Superboy had picked the name Jeremy after all.

Leaning against the doorframe, Jared watched as Evan raced around the kitchen shoving cold pizza in the microwave, oven, sandwich toaster and any other appliance that would reheat leftovers in attempt to bleach the thought of Aunt Heidi getting it on with an alien. Another smartass comment, and concern maybe Evan shouldn’t be going so fast with his arm still in a cast, was on Jared’s lips when something caught his eye.

“Who’s Connor?”

Evan skidded to a halt, nearly tumbling over the dining table.

“No one!” He said a little too quickly, cradling his cast, with C-O-N-N-O-R written boldly across it like a brand, closer to his body. He thought if he could hide the signature and Jared would forget about it. Adorable.

“Y’know if you don’t tell me I can always start hacking.”

“Connor’s a guy from my school.” Evan muttered, blush colouring his cheeks.

“Just a guy from your school?”

Evan stumbled over his words, a little too fast or too slow at times as he tried to explain. “He’s new… a new kid at my school but he’s in my grade. Who - well, kind of pushed me on the first day of class...but he apologised for it! And since no one had, uh...since no one had signed my cast yet he said...he said he would and - and he signed it and said we could...we could both pretend that we have friends.”

Jared knew that Evan wasn’t the most social person and was painfully awkward in any interactions outside of yellow spandex, which was a high school sentencing to being the weirdo loner, but ‘pretending to be friends’ was just plain pitiful.

“So what did you tell him when this ‘Connor’ asked how’d you break it?” Jared knew he could trust Evan to not blurt out ‘fighting a league of super villains’ but Evan could never be predictable in those situations. Knowing if he had to do damage control or back up his friend’s story never hurt.

“I said - I said that I..uh, fell out of a tree?”

Evan really needed to work on his cover stories.

“You ‘fell out of a tree’ and he bought that?”

“Connor said...Connor said that it was the - the saddest...effing thing he had ever heard.”

“Well at least that fits with your tree kink.” Jared teased.

“I do not have a tree kink!”

“So where did you take him for your first date?”

“The orchard.” Evan admitted his blush growing deeper. “And it was not a date!  It was just two friends, shooting the breeze-”

“In an abandoned orchard with no one in sight and free to do whatever kinky shit you please…”

“Shut up Jared! Connor’s just a friend.”

“Suuure he is...and is something burning?”

“The pizza!” And with that Evan was back all over the kitchen, salvaging what was left of his dinner before the house burned down.

Jared sighed as he caught sight of the cast again. Could  Evan be anymore obvious? Jared hasn’t seen him this bad since Artemis joined the team. His little Baby Flash had a major crush on this Connor guy and it had to be mutual. One simply doesn’t write his name all over another guy’s arm are expect things to stay purely hetro.

If Superman hasn’t proposed to Aunt Heidi by the time Evan has brought Connor home, Jared was definitely jumping in as the ‘intimidating father figure’.

{~~~}

Being a trained acrobat from birth with a side of contortionist had give Jared many unexpected benefits. Being agile and flexible enough to counter Gotham’s criminal element was one.  Avoiding knobby elbows when jammed in an air vent with a six-foot archer was another.

“Remind me again how we got into this fucking ridiculous situation in the first place?” his companion snarled.

“Language, Speedy.” Jared said, wriggling out of the way before getting a joint in the gut.

“English, Robin. And stop calling me that. It’s Red Arrow now.”

“I thought you were splitting off from Green Arrow.”

“Well sorry for not having enough time to think up of a new damn name.”

Speedy - Red Arrow, whatever Green Arrow’s former protege was calling himself, turned again which lead to Jared getting a quiver’s worth of fletchings up his nose.

“Achoo!”

“Hey! Keep the snot off my arrows!” Red Arrow said, planting an elbow into Jared’s thigh. Jared growled, giving the taller boy a sharp yank at his short ponytail. “Well keep the arrows out of my nose!”

“Hey, did you hear that?”

Both boys immediately clamped down, hoping that they wouldn’t be heard by the henchmen down below.

“Ugh, probably rats again. Leave them to pest control, we’ve got intruders two floors up!”

The sound of fading footsteps gave them a chance to sigh in relief. Jared was glad he messed with the alarm system before hacking into the building’s database. Given the team’s specialization in stealth (and lack in maintaining it), it was a surprise that this building wasn’t up in flames yet. Sure a couple alarms had been tripped but at least they haven’t been caught yet.

Squirming a bit to get a bit more wriggle room, Jared pulled up a hologram of the building’s floor plan from his computer glove. “Okay, that little trick would have bought us enough time to make it to the ground floor undetected if we stick to the vents-”

“And why do we have to stick to these cramp-ass vents?” Red Arrow grumbled.

“Because most adults are stupid enough to think that their too small to be exploited so they don’t look,” Jared explained patiently. “And it’s the quickest way out the building besides jumping out a window.”

It wasn’t something that he had to do when dealing with Batman but Evan had super-speed, not telepathy. Explaining things plainly no matter how obvious it was, even before the whole superhero gig, saved Evan mind-freezing worrying most the time or at least reined in the more irrational conclusions. A little something that made working with several other moody teenagers actually feasible a bit more aster and less disaster.

(And yes, Evan had corrected him a dozen times that aster was a type of flower but that wouldn’t stop him from improving the English language.)

“So once we hit ground floor, we’re home free?”

“Once we hit ground floor, we’ll be out in the open.” Jared said. “Artemis should give us enough cover to reach Aquagirl and then we report back to the Cave.”

Red Arrow growled at the mention of Green Arrow’s new protege, his replacement. “If she’s here what did you need me for? I’m not even part of this fucking team.”

“You know Aquagirl. She doesn’t anyone doing anything without backup.” Jared started crawling down vents, the disgruntled archer trailing behind. “Miss M  has super-important telepathy training with her uncle, Superboy is having a donor-clone bonding day foiling Luthor’s plans and Kid Flash is still benched from his injuries so sorry for forcing unwanted sibling bonding time on you.”

“She is not my sister!” Red Arrow protested.

‘But she will be. Green Arrow’s wedding is what, next month? So you guys are going to be spending a lot of time together. Unless you’re going to say Green Arrow’s not your dad.”

“How do you even know that?”

“I’m Batman.” Jared said, earning him an elbow in the calf and his follower a kick in the nose. “Look, think of this as a trial run. If you two are going to live in the same house, then the screaming matches you have in the Cave isn’t going to cut it. Unless dysfunctional is what you’re going for then go right ahead.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Red Arrow muttered. “Green Arrow’s kicking me out the moment I turn eighteen so he can have his perfect civilian life with a normal wife and flawless daughter. No need to keep me around any longer to fuck things up.”

“...did he actually say that?”

“It’s pretty much implied.”

Then it was quiet, save for the hollow clangs of their knees and elbows against metal.

There were issues between the original Arrow duo, right back to when Speedy first entered Star City’s rooftops and even before then. Jared could pry, there was an entire file on Larry Murphy and his son out of wedlock, but sometimes there were things that you just let be. Black Canary, the Flash and even Batman had all given what help and advice they could so what difference was one teenager going to make.

Still, it was too quiet.

“So anything interesting happening at school?” Jared asked.

“Small talk, Robin, really? Isn’t this supposed to be a stealth mission?” Red Arrow said. “And doesn’t Bats have a rule about personal details on the field?”

Not that the other could see it but Jared shrugged. “If we’re not yelling at each other then no one’s going to hear us and you don’t have to use any names. Besides, if I really wanted all the juicy details of your personal life I could always start hacking.”

“Does invasion of privacy mean nothing to you?” But Red Arrow then sighed and said, “I started at a new school in another city.”

“Really? Did all the other schools in Star City kick you out for smoking weed or something?”

“Yes. They actually did.” There was an unspoken challenge hovering in the air. Jared just gulped and let Red Arrow continue. “It’s the same as any other school, a giant fucking waste of time. It’s bad enough that no one knows you because it’s in completely different town but thanks to my damned luck, I have a lovely reputation to precede me.”

“What kind of a reputation?” Jared dared ask.

“Y’know, the usual stuff. I’m going to steal someone’s lunch money, sell drugs to freshmen, shoot up the school, blah blah blah, yada yada yada...You need to be high off your ass to even get through one day.” Red Arrow gave a short laugh. “Not that the teachers care. I’m already a loss cause to them. As long as I turn up to class, they don’t give a damn.”

“You can pull off school shooter chic pretty well if you ask me.” Jared said lightly, though the grumbling behind him told Red Arrow was taking it otherwise. “I was joking.”

“Yeah, so funny. Can’t you see how hard I’m laughing.” But his voice was low, suggesting the complete opposite.

“I can’t see you at all actually. Crawling through an air vent, remember?” And ready to jump out the next opening if Red Arrow decided to freak. Stealth mission be damned.

They were almost there, though. Another could metres and then they would be free to beat up bad guys and escape with blazing glory.

“I have a friend.” Red Arrow said suddenly, quietly.

“What kind? A kindred spirit with a love for 7-11 slushies?”

“The aliens need to turn back on the showtunes.” And Jared would second that. While they normally cycled through a shuffled playlist, if the kryptonian and the martian found a song the both liked it would be stuck on repeat for a week at least. “No, he’s the complete opposite. Nervous and jumpy most of the time and probably scared of his own shadow. I thought that he stuck around because no one else seemed to notice him, ‘pretend’ that we’re friends so we wouldn’t look like complete losers. But now…”

“You guys’ lovers now?” Jared joked again, bracing himself for another outburst.

But instead, Red Arrow gave a shallow laugh. “And get between him and trees? I don’t think so. He could go on for hours talking about how the trees at school were different to the ones that grew there before humans settled, what conditions different types of trees would thrive in, the significance of the shape of a leaf...he still insists on climbing them even though his arm’s still in a cast from falling out of one.”

“He fell out of a tree?” Now that sounded familiar.

“Yeah, the saddest fucking thing I ever heard.” And Jared could practically hear the smile on Red Arrow’s lips.  

“Sounds like someone that could give Poison Ivy a run for her money.”

“He would kick that bitch’s ass with his sheer knowledge on trees.”

Red Arrow was crushing for this friend of his hard. Maybe even more so than Evan and his mysterious ‘Connor’. Jared couldn’t shake the nagging feeling of familiarity though, as if he’s heard this somewhere before.

Rounding another corner, the distant sound of combat was growing louder and louder. Peering through the grate, Jared saw the girls already locked in battle with numerous faceless henchmen. It was nothing they couldn’t handle, Aquagirl’s streams of water keeping the enemy at bay while Artemis picked them off from above. Well, at least they didn’t have to stall for any longer.

Despite the limited space Jared could hear Red Arrow notching his bow, ready to jump into action. With a cackling grin and a slight signal, Jared kicked open the vent and somersaulted into the fray.

{~~~}

It was obvious

It was so obvious.

It was right in front of him the entire time but only now…

Evan’s was a guy who signed his cast and offered to pretend to be friends. Who went with him to the orchard and probably had to sit through several college lectures worth of tree rants. Who was new to the school but was a senior like Evan.

Red Arrow’s was nervous and scared of his own shadow at his new school. Who turned an offer of fake friendship into a real one. Who knew a ton about trees and broke his arm falling out of one.

Red Arrow’s real name was Connor... and guess what was scrawled right across Evan’s arm.

“Ha.”

Aquagirl, Alana, looked up from her mission report. “Is something the matter, Robin?”

Now that all the pieces clicked together.

“Ha ha.”

Miss Martian, Christine, hovered over with a concerned look. Superboy, Jeremy, was close behind her. “Is everything okay?”

In all honesty, it really was hilarious.

“Ha ha ha!”

“Someone get Batman!”

“Ha ha heh, don’t worry guys.” Jared said, forcing out the last of his laughs. “I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?” Christine said. “You didn’t get hit with any Joker gas in Gotham or anything?”

“Positive.” This half of the team wouldn’t understand. They shared their identities openly with each other. They had nothing to lose. “Just figured out a punchline to a joke a little late.”

Alana, though relieved that her teammate was in no imminent danger, frowned at Jared. “Well be less hysterical next time you come to such a revelation. There’s still a mission report we need to write.”

“But you’re the leader!” Jared whined.

“We’re co-leaders of this team, Robin. Batman will notice if I write the entire report myself, again.”

Jared grumbled but set to work, reporting on their finding on what could possibly be an organisation behind the Injustice League, working from the shadows and pulling at the strings.

Alana could work on the report all day and it would matter. Between Aquagirl and Alana’ahm there would be no different in life or status. He had Jared Kleinman and Robin, Boy Wonder. One a billionaire’s ward and the other a vigilante’s partner. Finding out one was connected to the other would lead to complete and utter disaster. It was the same for the others with civilian lives. There were too many risks involved in revealing their identities. Something that deserved a trust that the team had yet to build but…sometimes, it might be worth it.

{~~~}

Kid Flash was welcomed back to the Cave after his arm had finally healed by an over-enthusiastic Miss Martian, a somewhat hesitant Superboy an an all-too-eager Robin catching him in a bone crushing hug the moment he exited the zeta tube.

“Uh, guys...I really - I really appreciate the sentiment but, but would it be okay if, er...if you ease up a little.” their speedster victim mumbled after failing to wriggled out of three sets of arms. “My arm it...my arm’s still a little tender, y’know?”

Superboy was the first to let go, all to aware of his own strength. “Sorry, it’s just been so long.”

“We haven’t seen you for an entire month!” Miss Martian added as she reluctantly let go as well. “Just because the Flash benched you, doesn’t mean you aren’t welcome here.”

Yeah, as if Evan, who was as paranoid with his secret identity was Batman, would come here toting around a cast signed by his ‘civilian’ best friend. Otherwise it was good to see him back in tights, even if yellow was definitely not his colour.

“Uh...thank you. It’s - it’s nice to know that, that I’m welcomed here.” Evan said, with a slight blush forming. “Though the...the welcome was a bit...much.”

“It was either this or a two-hour musical cabaret.” Jared grinned, remaining firmly attached to his friend’s side. “We’ve missed you, buddy.”

“We had pizza and tacos a couple days ago, Robin.”

“Exactly!”

“Wait.” Artemis interjected, the spoilsport standing off the side with Aquagirl, having refused to take part in the surprise welcome hug. “How’d you two have pizza and tacos if Kid Flash was benched?”

“Easy, I dropped by his house and had dinner with him and Aunt Flash.” Jared said.

“In civies?! But what about Batman’s ‘No Names’ policy?”

“Family-friend privileges.”

“Robin and I knew each other before uh...the whole superhero thing.” Evan explained quickly before Jared could further probe the archer. “Our parents were friends so we kind of grew up together as friends so, yeah. Family-friends.”

“Batman and Flash have been friends for that long?” Superboy asked, saving them from dealing with anymore of Artemis’ suspicions or accusations.

However, neither Jared or Evan answered. Flash may be Evan’s mom but Batman wasn’t his dad, just his guardian, but it was best to let others draw their own conclusions.

Aquagirl stepped forward, grasping Artemis firmly by the shoulder. “It’s good to have you back, Kid Flash.” She said. “We have a welcome dinner prepared which should be enough to satisfy the needed calorie intake for everyone on the team.”

“Or in other words, she crunched a bunch of numbers to work out how much food we need so that no one starves and we can all have a good time.” Jared happily ‘translated’, earning him a pointed glare from his co-leader. “And no need to worry about the cost. We’ve got the bat-budget funding us and the bat butler on standby if ever.”

“Yes but first, there are some official matters that must be addressed.”

Evan immediately straightened and pried Jared off of him. “A mission?”

“No, just a training exercise.” Aquagirl said with a patient smile.  

Jared raised an eyebrow. Last time he checked, the team’s agenda was clean for at least another week while Batman consolidated the information they grabbed regarding the Injustice League. In addition, Black Canary was off on League business so there wouldn’t be anyone to run the session.

“It’s mind-link training.” Miss Martian said.

An uncomfortable silence settle over the rest of the team as they remembered the disaster that was their first, and what they thought would be their last, attempt to utilize the mind-link.

Artemis though, having joined the team later, had no clue. “What’s mind-link training?”

“It’s the usage of Martian telepathy as an alternative to comms.” Aquagirl explained. “It’s comparatively more flexible and secure, save for when another telepath is involved, as well as providing an upper-hand when it comes to...impromptu planning during a mission.”

“If it’s so much better, why haven’t we be using it?”

“Let’s just say there were some technical difficulties when we first tried it out.” Jared said.

And by ‘technical difficulties’ he meant that what was supposed to be a friendly martian hello somehow imploded into a mental attack that had knocked the entire team out for several hours.

Miss Martian looked sheepish but nodded. “My uncle figured out what was wrong and has been teaching me to work around it.”

“If you’ve figured out what the problem was, why work around it when you could just fix it?” Artemis asked.

“Mental illness isn’t something that can be easily fixed.”

Oh.

Oh.

“And we’ve all got to be a bit nutty for running around in tights, right?” Jared joked, resisting the urge to turn to Evan. He didn’t need to be a telepath to know that the speedster was blaming himself for their failed mind-link attempt as well as falling into the dozens of other self-deprecating conclusions that followed.

“Maybe - “

“Now let’s head to the common area!” Jared said, cutting Evan off and grabbing his arm. “We all get through this then we can start the welcome party!”

With the team sprawled across the three couches in the common area, Jared felt something poking at him. Like a physical poke, except it was prodding something incorporal but felt completely tactile.

His first instinct was try to push it away or throw up a false thought to shield his own like Batman had taught him but then he felt something else. It was like someone was standing next to him but not quite touching, he didn’t need to turn to know that they were there. The presence seemed to be growing until Jared could start identifying them. Artemis and Superboy were on either side of him and Miss Martian was vaguely around them, like a boat carrying them across rocking waves.

The waves was someone too, Aquagirl. Pushing and pulling and rocking the metaphorical Martian boat with its passengers but otherwise controlled. It wasn’t something that could be contained by the ‘boat’. The ocean could capsize or crush the boat but it could also assist it in its journey without compromising the water’s independent rhythm.

If Miss Martian was the boat; Jared, Artemis and Superboy were the passengers and Aquagirl was the ocean then Evan was - a freaking hurricane. He was a flurry of thoughts that spun as wild and fast as any rogue sea wind. Uncontainable, uncompromising and powerful enough to wreck anything that stood in its path. It drew everyone in and threatened to crush them into pieces. Closer and closer and moments away from splintering the boat and sweeping up its passengers -

And then it was over.

They were all still in the common area, they had never left, but Jared’s awareness was slowly returning to reality. It was disorienting and potentially fatal in actual combat but for training, it wasn’t that bad.

Except Evan was crying next to him.

“Hey, KF.” Jared said evenly, keeping his hands by his side. Evan and physical contact never really worked out when he was like this. “No need to cry.”

“I-I’m...I’m not...not crying.” And trying to be comforting wasn’t really comforting him at all.

“Then why’s your chin quivering?”

“Not. Crying.”

Jared crossed his arms and huffed in fake annoyance. “Of course you’re not. But if you start crying then I’m going to start crying then you’ll start crying even harder.”

“Oi! Boy Blunder, stop bullying Kid Flash!” Artemis growled.

“I’m just trying to help.”

“By really giving him a reason to cry?”

“Both of you. Enough.” Aquagirl commanded, effectively nipping the budding argument at the bud. She then turned to Evan. “Do you need a minute?”

Evan sniffed but sat up and wiped away the tears. “I’ll be fine. I’m just...I’m sorry for messing up - for messing up the training exercise. Maybe...maybe this mind-link isn’t for me.” “Actually the training exercise went perfectly well!” Miss Martian interjected, hovering over the rest of the team in giddy delight. “This session was less about establishing a proper connection and more about familiarizing ourselves with each other’s minds and how we can function as a unit.”

“So what you said earlier about mental illness-” Artemis started.

“I have what’s classed on the surface as high functioning anxiety.” Aquagirl said, daring anyone to challenge her.

Jared couldn’t help but admire her, sticking her neck out like that. He doubted that he could do the same. Sure he was technically the most experienced member of the team but they should just get rid of the whole ‘co-leader’ nonsense and have Aquagirl in charge. Besides, she did most of the work already when it came to planning and organising the team.

“I had… have - had generalized anxiety disorder.” Evan admitted, much to Jared’s surprise. “It used to be normal GAD but after the...after I got my powers it - it uh, I…” And then he was floundering, trying to find the right words that just weren’t coming to him.

So Jared jumped in. “Basically KF doesn’t just move super fast but thinks super fast and when your brain’s wired to worry about every little thing constantly it ain’t fun.”

“And how people think can affect how a mind-link can function.” Miss Martian added, dropping back to the ground. “To get one working properly, we’re all going to have to learn to work with each other.”

“So that would be two birds with one stone, right?” Superboy said. “Team building and establishing a mind-link.”

“Pretty much, yeah.”

“Okay so training’s over and everything’s cleared up, let’s start partying!” Jared declared.

Then a slap resounded through the Cave.

“Fuck you!”

The Flash, slowly and heavily, stormed through the common area towards the zeta tube. Then she paused before the silent team.

“Kid, we’re going home. Robin, too. I’ll tell Agent A you’re staying for the night.” Flash said coldly, devoid of her normal optimism and motherly cheer. “I suggest the rest of you head home as well.”

“What happened, Aunty?” Jared dared asked.

“Apparently, one successful mind-link session proves that you’re ready for a full telepathic training exercise.”

“What’s wrong-”

“A Failsafe exercise.”

“Oh.” Preparing to deal with failure. A situation rigged to get worse no matter how hard you try to resolve it. Jared gave an awkward laugh as he turned to the team. “Looks like we’ll have to reschedule guys, sorry.”

Then he and Evan followed in the Flash’s wake, taking the zeta tube back to Central City and arriving in the back streets not far from the Hansen house.

Jared dusted himself off. “Well then, welcome back to active duty.”

“Yeah, welcome back…”

{~~~}

Robin knew Speedy/Red Arrow. They were fellow proteges of Justice League superheroes, working together when the time called for it. They weren’t particularly close but were friendly enough to each other.   

Jarred knew of Connor Murphy. They were fellow outcasts of high society, a gypsy and a bastard stuck to two of the wealthiest men in the country. They weren’t particularly close but absolutely hated each other’s guts.

So Jared didn’t know what to expect when found Evan’s ‘let’s pretend to be friends’ Connor on the Hansen doorstep the morning after Aunt Heidi’s ‘fuck you’ to Bruce. At least he was right, Red Arrow pulled off the entire ‘school shooter’ aesthetic surprisingly well from the all black clothes to the permanently fixed scowl.

“Jared Kleinman?” Connor growled. “The fuck are you doing here?”

“Connor Murphy.” Jared greeted in kind. “I could ask you the same.” Because turning up seven in the morning at another guy’s house definitely didn’t add any subtext to ‘we’re just friends’. “Loving the hair, though. Never thought it was that long. It’s like-”

“Like what?” Connor challenged, pushing a lock behind his ear. Unlike when he was Red Arrow or at a social event, his scraggly tresses fell to his shoulders instead of being tied back.

“It suits you better.” Maybe Robin could get away with teasing comment to Red Arrow, but he wasn’t risking getting throttled as Jared by Connor.

Connor didn’t seem too offended by his answer but he still looked pissed. “Why are you even fucking here?”

“I don’t know? Why are you?”

“I asked first.”

“But I’m the one in the doorway.”

Connor threw a pointed glare but then conceded. “Mrs Hansen said I was free to come over whenever I’m early for school.”

“Aunt Heidi invited me over last night.”

“Aunt Heidi?”

“Family friends.” Jared said with a shrug. “My mom was friends with her so Ev and I grew up together.”

“Your the asshole family friend?” That caught Connor off guard, by the looks of it. “What a small fucking world.”

“Right back at you.” Jared said with a cocky grin, but stepped aside to let Connor in. If only he knew, then the world would be even smaller. “So, Evan calls me an asshole behind my back?”

“It’s pretty much implied.”

“And ‘now we can pretend that we can both have friends’?” Jared added with a slight eyebrow wiggle.

Connor’s scowl deepened and a blush formed across his cheeks. “I was...it’s just that - what else was I supposed to say?! I was trying not to be a complete ass and he looked just about ready to bolt out the computer lab!”

“Adorable.”

“Fuck you.”

Just before they entered the kitchen, Connor paused. “Wait, if the Hansens are your ‘family friends’, why are you Bruce Wayne’s ward?”

“You try going up against the Prince of Gotham. What Wayne wants, Wayne gets.” Jared said casually. Aunt Heidi had taken Bruce to court over his custody, not that the media knew anything about that. “Besides, if Bruce starts being a crappy parent, Aunty kidnaps me.”

“Like now?”

“Exactly. She’d do the same for you too, y’know.” Jared said, throwing a cheeky grin at Connor’s dazed face. He banged the door frame, startling Evan as he loaded the dishwasher with the morning dishes. “Yo Acorn! Your boyfriend’s here!”

“It’s not like that!” and “The fuck, Kleinman?” were yelled simultaneously and Jared couldn’t help but chuckle.     

“I’ll leave you guys to it.” And Jared slipped away, grinning as he heard Evan try to explain why there were so many dishes.

{~~~}

Jared shouldn’t have intervened. Evan and Connor were so obviously infatuated with each other it was only a matter of time before they officially got together. At the moment, though, the pair was insistent on staying ‘just friends’. Jared could understand that, they were each other’s first ‘real’ friend, made without the interference of any other force. They hung out together simply because they liked each other.

It was a stalemate and that was the problem. There was an underlying tension in maintaining the status quo between the two of them, with every romantic gesture brushed aside as them simply being friends. Not even their vigilante lives could help further any romance with Red Arrow working completely independent of the Justice League and Kid Flash sticking even closer to his mentor’s side.

Something as small as a poorly placed comment or as large as the reveal of their secret identities at the wrong time could lead to the utter destruction of their relationship. They were too happy now and could potentially be even happier for Jared to just keep to the sidelines.

So that was why he dragged Evan along with him to the next Wayne charity ball.

Jared absolutely hated these overly pompous events. In short, they were evil. It wasn’t like the evil the in streets where the problem could simply be punched away. There were social calls and niceties and protocols and a long list of other stupid reasons as to why he couldn’t start joking that most the old socialites looked like pigs in wigs or deck another asshole heir who insulted his parents and heritage.

In addition, Evan at charity balls was the same as Evan at any other social event: a bundle of nerves that threatened to vibrate through the floor or stumble in an accidental burst of speed. The only difference is that the people attending actually had the power to ruin his life on a whim, which did nothing to settle his anxieties. Nine times of out ten they ended with Evan sobbing in the bathroom.

Normally, it would be a terrible down-right stupid idea. But the Murphys were going to be there and no matter how estranged father and son had become, Jared could count on Larry Murphy wrangling Connor into a tie and forcing him to come.

Once you got pass the sheer amount of entitled assholes at the event, the setting seemed to create a cheesy romantic scene straight out of fairytale. Something that could either supercharge or completely destroy Evan and Connor’s relationship.

So now Jared, playing to part of the Wayne ward and heir, navigated through the bear traps of social trappings with a fidgeting and flustered Evan at his heels.

“Jared!” Evan called, still attempting to keep in step with his friend’s broad strides. “Where are - where are we going? I don’t...there’s so many - and I can’t...I don’t think-”

Jared turned and clasped his hands of Evan’s shoulders. “Ev, just breathe. Everything’s going to be fine.”

“But what’s - what’s going on?”

“I’m going to change your life.” Jared grinned, searching through crowd for a familiar face.

He found two.

“Kleinman?”

“Zoe.”

“C-Connor?”

“Evan?!”

Jared forced a grin as the four teens collided. Larry Murphy did force his son to come along, as well as his new step-daughter.

“Fancy seeing you here, Crock.” Jared said. “Or is it Crock-Murphy now?”

“It’s just Murphy now.” Zoe said, gritting her teeth. “If this is what you meant by us laughing later, I’m not laughing at all.”

“You know Kleinman?” Connor said, eyes darting from one to another while purposely avoiding Evan. Almost a week and he seemed to have the ‘overprotective brother’ act nearly perfected.

Zoe gave a slight scoff. “Back from Gotham Academy. We bumped into each other on the first day and since then he’s been…”

“The most insanely cool person person you’ve ever met?” Jared said with a toothy grin.

“A giant annoyance and asshole.” Zoe finished.

Jared brought his arms to his chest in mock pain. “You wound me, Murphy! I thought you considered us good friends!”

“No.” The two step-sibling said in union.

Connor’s expression then softened as he turned to Evan. “Wasn’t expecting to see you here, Evan.”

“Uh...yeah, you too.” Evan stumbled, refusing to make eye contact. “Wait! I mean, yes, of course you’d be here because you of...of your dad and all but I’m not really supposed to be here but here I am I guess well-”

“It’s good to see you.” Connor said with a gentle smile brought Evan out of his stuttering mess. If that wasn’t proof enough that those two should be together, Jared didn’t know what would.

Zoe’s eye, however, narrowed onto Evan. “You’re Connor’s Evan? The one from Central City?”

Jared choked back a laugh while Evan was actually choking.

“Uh yes.” Evan finally managed.

“Then why are you even here?”

“Jared he...he invited me saying that he needed a plus one and that since we’re - since we’re family friends-”

“Wait, family friends?”

And shit. Jared could literally hear the pieces snap into place.

“Hey! Why don’t we catch up, eh Zoe?” Jared said quickly. “I’m sure there’s a lot that you want to talk about.”

Evan’s eyes widened in alarm. “Jared but wait-”

“I’m sure you and Connor could use a little ‘friend time’ without us meddling.” Jared said with a firm pat on Evan’s back.

“Don’t you dare try anything, Kleinman.” Connor growled.

To which Zoe protested. “I can take care of myself!” Jared nodded anyway and with that he and Zoe slunk off to the refreshments table.

“I’m still not laughing, birdbrain.” Zoe scowled. “You better start explaining.”

“In a minute, just look there.” Jared said, pointing back at the two they left behind.

Evan and Connor had retreated to the other end of the ballroom in a small corner where there was a distinct lack of other people. An ease had overcome the both of them, Evan’s nervous wrinkles seemed to have made way for slight laugh lines while Connor’s harsh scowl had softened into an almost smile.

“I’ve never seen Connor so happy.” Zoe muttered.

Jared nodded in agreement. “I’ve never seen Evan so peaceful either.”

And without another word, an agreement was struck. Regardless of what vigilantism, the fate of the world or normal teenage drama’s may throw at them, seeing if they could get one Evan Hansen and one Connor Murphy together might be worth it, watching and tugging from the sidelines.  

[cisco-fics-4-all]

Not What You Expected

I started this story during season 2, and here we are, right after season 3, and I’m STILL UPDATING IT! Not sure if that means I’m lazy, or this is a ridiculously long ass story, but either way, here's a new chapter for you everybody! Enjoy!

“Miss Warren,” Jay Garrick addressed her respectfully, as though she weren’t someone who didn’t belong in this universe, using a name that belonged to a dead woman, “I think you and I have a few things to discuss.”

Amy stared at him for a moment, contemplating whether this seemingly upstanding hero of a man was worth the conversation, or if she were better off blasting her way away from him, and cutting her losses. I had seemed logical at the time, contacting the CCPD for any information they had on Zoom and his henchmen, after all whatever information they did have would be far more organised and detailed than whatever she could cobble together from the internet. But impersonating a dead woman was a tricky thing, and even with her Felicity Smoak degree in hacking, stealing her doppelganger’s identity had proved to be a pointless endeavour the moment she saw CSI Barry Allen, and he had recognised her.

One hour previous…

Barry Allen prided himself on his record keeping. His filing cabinets were the most well organised in the entire precinct, if there was something that needed to be found, he was the one who would find it. It came with the territory of being a CSI, finding things was his job, from crime scene, to lab, to court room, he could dig through the clutter and find the important information. Barry’s pride in his work had recently been bossted ten fold, when the infamous Hero of Central City, The Crimson Comet himself, Jay Garrick had entrusted him specifically to find information for him. The task was a simple one, dig up all he could on a woman named Amy Warren, and report all he found to Garrick to aid in his hero work. Investigating people was literally his day job, Barry could do it in his sleep, but this search was rapidly turning into a rabbit hole of peculiarity, and Barry was beginning to wonder if he should continue with it.

His initial search for the name ‘Amy Warren’ had been a bust, nobody by that name was living in Central City, or any of it’s surrounding cities for that matter. There were several residents with the sername Warren, and a handful of women named Amy, but none of them matched both criteria, so he switched tactics. Amy was a short name, short names were often nicknames, used in place of their longer tongue twisting counterparts, so Barry began to fliter his search by names that could possibly be shortened to Amy for some reason or another. That got him a total of seven results, three were women names Amelia, two of which had relocated to other cities by now, two more were women named Amaya, which he admitted was a bit of a stretch so he discounted them soon after weeding them out. The last two were almost instantly discounted as well, as both of the were dead, but Barry noticed something about the very last listing, that gave him pause.

Amaryllis Warren had died the night of the Star Labs incident, her body was found near that of a male near her age, a colleague of hers by the name Francisco Ramon. The picture that came up with her obituary was from her Highschool graduation, but her death was not the first occasion to land her in the papers. A scientific achievement award had been given to her in college, she’d earned it as part of a team project for something or another, Barry hadn’t bothered to read too much into the article, it was the picture that he had been interested in. Four smiling young students in white lab coats, the two in the middle holding a trophy together, Amaryllis on the left, and Francisco Ramon on the right. The image was old, and his face was far more easy going than what the CCPD had on file for him, but Barry saw him and realized instantly, the man holding the trophy beside Amaryllis, was Reverb. That single piece of information alone, set Barry’s investigative senses tingling, but as he dug deeper, he realized that Amarylis Warren wasn’t as dead as she appeared to be on paper. Following the legal trail of Francisco Ramon’s lawsuit against Star Labs, he was able to find a current address, a posh penthouse apartment, paid for with Star Labs money, merely a few blocks away in the Central City Palisades.

Deeper and deeper down the rabbit hold Barry went, too caught up in the absurdity of what he was finding to bother contacting his superiors for a search warrant, he hacked into the building’s security feed right there in his office. The current feed didn’t provide him with much, just a view of passers by, and a few interior hallways with little foot traffic in them. But due to advances in technology, and changes in laws that Barry remembered, he knew that apartment complexes like the Palisades, stored their security camera footage for a minimum of one year, and so that was where Barry dug next. Days of footage sped across his screen, sparse glimpses of residents coming and going flickering like blips in the tape. Then suddenly, the images he was looking for were there, two people, one following the other entering the lobby of the building. The one in front, Barry recognized as Reverb, and after squinting for a moment, Barry’s mouth dropped open in utter surprise, as he recognized the features of the woman with him from her graduation photo,  Amaryllis Warren.

By now, she had been dead for years, the coronor’s report listed her as being dead on scene, electrocuted to the point of cardiac failure, her funeral was part of a memorial service held by Star Labs after the incident...but there she was, living, walking, and willingly following one of Central City’s most wanted meta criminals into his apartment building. It wasn’t possible, it was ludicrous, it was like a story out of a television show unfolding in real life, like some absurd murder mystery dinner theater. How was she alive? How did she so thoroughly fake her own death? And why had she done it, only to be so careless by being caught on camera?  Barry could already guess why Reverb hadn’t bothered with hiding his face, he had a reputation for being cocky, he had likely walked in and out of that apartment building a thousand times, maybe even looked for the cameras just to make a statement of his dominance as a meta. But Amaryllis Warren, she was a ghost, she didn’t exist anymore, why show herself now?

Jay’s words resurfaced in his mind, he’d said she might have information that could help him fight Zoom. The pieces started falling into place quite clearly then, Barry watched her follow Reverb into the building, her head turning to take in her surroundings, she was a double agent. Barry compiled the report using all his professional preciseness, doing his best te keep it devoid of personal opinion or bias, even going so far as to print it out on his personal office letterhead. He was nearly twitching with excitement as he straightened the papers, and tucked them away in a manila envelope, a proud smile on his face as he grabbed his jacket and briefcase, ready to set out and meet with The Crimson Comet. He exited his office with a skip in his step, greeting two officers enthusiastically as he made his way down the stairs. But halfway down, his gaze was lifted by the sound of the elevator’s doors sliding open, and his briefcase nearly dropped from his hand as he recognized the woman who exited it with hesitant steps. Amaryllis Warren was here.

“Ma’am,” a passing officer approached her curiously, “is there something you need help with?”

Barry didn’t even bother trying to remember the officer’s name, his long gangly legs were already running him down the stairs towards her. “I’ve got it!” he cried, stumbling to a halt beside the confused officer and her, “woo, excuse me officer, I’ll take care of this woman, she’s here to see me.” He smiled, hoping his story was believable, even as Amaryllis’ eyes went wide when she saw him.

“Oh, my apologies Barry,” the officer apologized, “I’ll leave you to it then.”

Barry thanked them politely, before turning back to Amaryllis with wide eyes of his own. “Miss Warren,” he greeted her, extending his hand to her eagerly, “it’s a pleasure to meet you, our uh...mutual acquaintance, Mr. Garrick, he told me about you – or um, rather he mentioned you, and had me...look into you,” he shook his head realizing that sounded less than welcoming, “the point is, I’m happy to help you in any way I can, I am at your service.”

Amaryllis stared at him as though he’d grown a second head. The hand he’d extended to her was left un-shaken, her eyes flitting over his face as her face went pale, ironically she was the one who looked like she’d seen a ghost. “Barry?” she spoke his name in a near whisper, her hand finally slowly reaching out to take his, “Barry Allen?”

Barry nodded, slightly confused by her odd behavior, “Yes ma’am, CSI Barry Allen, at your service,” he shook her hand and smiled, “has uh...Mr. Garrick mentioned me?” he asked her hopefully, a little thrill of excitement at the idea of Jay Garrick speaking highly of him.

Amaryllis frowned at him. “Mr. Garrick?” she asked, the hesitation her body language held when she first disembarked the elevator back again.

Barry nodded again, “Well…yes, Jay Garrick? He’s….well he’s...” the gears of his mind began to grind as a realization forced its way to the surface, “you do know who he is, don’t you?” The hand Barry still held in his twitched, and a glimmer of fear shone in Amaryllis eyes as they began to take in her surroundings. She was looking for an escape. Barry cursed himself for assuming he knew what was going on, his entire background of CSI training screaming at him to never make conclusions without all the evidence. His hand clasped tighter around hers, desperately hoping he could hold her by it if she made a run for it. “Miss Warren, I realize that I may have just made an incredible mistake in mentioning Mr. Garrick, but I assure you that my offer to help you still stands, and if you would just follow me up to my lab, I’m sure we could-”

There was a sudden gust of air, and the unmistakeable sound of electricity crackling through the air, sent Barry’s head swiveling to find The Crimson Comet himself standing beside him. “Mr. Allen,” Jay greeted him politely, “I see you’ve found Miss Warren for me.” Barry opened his mouth to speak, but his brain was firing too rapidly to decide what to say. Amaryllis stared at Jay in disbelief, tugging her hand free of Barry’s grip as she looked Jay up and down, taking in his striking red uniform. “Miss Warren,” Jay Garrick addressed her respectfully, as though she weren’t someone who didn’t belong in this universe, using a name that belonged to a dead woman, “I think you and I have a few things to discuss.”