#he spills his whole experience with billy and in talking about it starts to realize there's feelings in that tangle

[wuffgang-ameowdeus-moozart]

Eddie is gushing about Steve to Robin and he mentions how it's so fucking metal the way he never shies away from danger. Like, quite the opposite, he literally jumps right into it without a second thought!

And suddenly Robin remembers how Steve wanted to be tortured by the actual real Russian secret service if it meant that his then friendly coworker who he never saw outside of Scoops would be at least a little bit safer. And she notices for the first time how Steve always makes sure that everyone is safe before he leaves a dangerous place - how he makes sure to always be the last one - and she thinks fuck.

(She feels so fucking bad. He is her best friend. Her soulmate. The person who knows her best and vice-versa. How has she never noticed this before?!)

They start paying closer attention to him, then. Neither like what they see. Steve's eyebags grow bigger with every day that passes. He doesn't eat a lot. He can never say no to others, no matter how much it inconveniences him. And when Robin and Eddie gush about what an awesome person he is, he gets an uncomfortable expression on his face and denies it. Robin had never noticed how most their interactions were self-deprecating jokes until now, either.

They need to stage an intervention.

The next time Steve walks through the doors of Family Video, Robin and Eddie are ready. They lay down all the facts and propose a simple deal: either go talk to a professional, or they will explain everything to the rest of the party and they will force him to talk to a professional. It will end the same way no matter what he chooses, might as well take the path with least resistance.

The only thing that sounds worse than paying a stranger to talk about his feelings is to be forced to talk about them to his friends, so he agrees.

He doesn't think it will make a difference, at first. It's not like he is allowed to talk about monsters and other dimensions.

The first session is awkward. But Robin and Eddie always look at him with such worried and expectant looks and he cannot bear to burden them in any way, so he starts opening up more. He can't talk about the time he almost got eaten by Demogorgons in a secret supernatural underground tunnelsystem, but he can talk about the time Billie almost beat him to death. He can't talk about the secret Russian operation beneath the mall, but he can talk about almost dying in the "mall fire". (His memories of his time there are all scrambled because of the drugs, anyway. It is more about the 'near-death' thing and never being able to feel safe, which he can talk about)

He doesn't mean to talk about his interpersonal relationships at first. But then his therapist cautiously asks him about his parents, and before he knows it he is spilling beans he didn't even know needed to be spilled. He talks about how he only seems to be friends with people who went through traumatic experiences with him, and what does that say about him? He talks about when he first realized that other kids are not left behind by their parents for months at a time. He finally starts unpacking the whole Nancy situation and realizes, wow, turns out he isn't nearly as over the whole thing as he'd hoped. (There are a lot of tears).

He seamlessly fills session after session, and at first he doesn't think that it makes much of a difference. Until the kids meet him after he is exhausted from a double shift at Family Video and beg him to drive them somewhere or other, and he can say no and not give in without fearing that they will cast him aside.

(Robin and Eddie are smug when they also notice the changes, but Steve supposes they have earned it this one time.)

[magniloquent-raven]

steve's always known that he likes kissing boys. when he was ten a friend he made at summer camp planted one on him. he threatened to break steve's nose if he told anyone, but the kiss was still nice. when he was fourteen him and tommy got well and truly drunk for the first time, and ended up fooling around in the harringtons' dining room, clumsy and splayed out on the cold floor.

things like that kept happening to steve, and he was fine with it. as long as no one knew it was just some harmless fun.

because the thing is, he knows that's all it can ever be. he knows it. men can't ever love each other the way he loved nancy. it's just not how things work.

everyone says so, right. that it's not love when it's two men. it's just...sexual perversion or what the fuck ever. and steve's cool with that. he's not a prude. people can get all shitty and judgy about him sleeping with men because they think it's wrong but it's no different than people calling the girls he sleeps with sluts and getting all uptight about sex in general.

and sure, just because everyone says so doesn't make it true, but...well you just know some things, right? it's a gut instinct. he's never gotten butterflies over a guy, never gotten all warm and sappy with one the way he did with nancy. so it just makes sense. that's the way things are.

which...is why it's really confusing when billy asks him out.

they're friends now. they hang out. he actually likes billy, wonder of wonders. the whole mind flayer thing really mellowed him out. it's sad, sometimes, how much it broke him down, but steve can't help being selfishly grateful because he knows they never would have gotten to know each other otherwise.

and they've...y'know. had some fun too. billy kissed him two months ago, sloppy and urgent, still tasting like the beer he shotgunned. it was just the two of them, on the porch outside hop's old trailer—now billy's. and it was nice. it was fucking awesome, actually. and so was everything else they did after that.

billy was a little weird about it the next morning, so steve made sure to let him know he wasn't gonna freak out or anything. he'd done this before, they're still friends, it'll stay a secret, etc. etc.

it didn't help much, 'cause billy didn't talk to him for like, a week after, which sucked immensely, but steve's forgiving. it was probably billy's first time with a guy or something.

anyways, they worked it out. stayed friends who sometimes touch each other's dicks. it's all good. maybe a little intense sometimes, the way billy always clings to him right before he comes is honestly the best thing ever, the desperate way his nails dig in and he curls his whole body into it. and lately they've been getting a little less rushed, a little more familiar about it. but steve's never slept with the same guy this many times, so maybe that's normal.

what isn't normal is the nervous tension in billy's shoulders and the way he bites his nails and stumbles over his words, and then asks steve out.

because. like. why?

he just...doesn't understand. any of it. why billy's looking at him like that, his usual cool mask cracked down the middle, vulnerable bits shining through, making him all soft around the edges. why his stomach clenches, tumbles over itself, anxiety and something sour twisting in his gut. why his hands are shaking, and he can't quite breathe, and the thought of this ruining what they already have is digging its claws in.

and he can't...he just can't. can't give billy what he wants, because he doesn't even know what that is, and...he can't wrap his fucking head around why this is even happening.

it hurts when billy closes off and walks away, his quiet nevermind, i—forget i said anything hits like a punch in the chest.

he goes home that night thinking about every time they ever touched. every time billy looked at him with something in his expression that steve couldn't put his finger on. something warm that he wanted to reach out and hold.

he calls robin at one in the morning. she's annoyed until she hears his voice. then she promises she'll be there in ten minutes.

steve hasn't cried in front of anyone since he was six. but that night he curls up with his head in robin's lap and sobs, trying so, so hard to let it wash away all the things he's gotten muddied up and confused over. but when he's out of breath and out of tears, there's still a knot in his chest that he has no idea how to untangle.

~~tag liiist ppl sorry for the angst lol @spreckle @growup-thatbeautiful 💕~~

[marjansmarwani]

It feels like an out of body experience

2k || ao3

“He was talking to both of us,” he repeated, aware that he sounded like a broken record. “Both me and Gabriel. He was going to take what was most important, from both of us.” --- Just a missing 2x12 scene of the moment after Owen realized TK and Carlos were in danger and what follows. Featuring an in-depth look at his guilt because why else do I ever write Owen Strand anymore?

This has been sitting mostly done on my google drive since May and I finally decided to finish it today, for some reason so I hope you’re all in the mood for some angsty Owen content. 

Beta’d by my loves @silvarafael and @justaswampdemon

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

“You thought he was talking to you?” Billy asked with a snort. “I thought he was talking to Reyes.” 

Judd let out a laugh beside him and Owen rolled his eyes, picking up his glass to take another sip of the whiskey. He rolled Billy’s words around in his head as he twirled the glass, watching as the whiskey sloshed around the sides. The thought came suddenly and hit him with all the force of a steam engine. 

“He was talking to both of us,” he said quietly, pulling Judd’s attention to him. He could see the other man frowning but he ignored him. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t seen it sooner; he couldn’t believe it hadn’t been his first thought. 

“He was talking to both of us,” he repeated louder, now pulling the eyes of all the others to him as well. Tommy sat up straighter as she clocked the fear in his eyes. 

“What are you saying?” she asked evenly, using her steady, tempered captain’s voice that he had heard so often on patients in the field. 

“He was talking to both of us,” he repeated, aware that he sounded like a broken record. “Both me and Gabriel. He was going to take what was most important, from both of us.” 

His words hung in the air for a moment as they all processed and began to connect the dots. Owen set down his glass as they did, his hands were shaking too much to hold it. He was already reaching into his pocket for his phone when Judd’s expression cleared and he let out a curse as he figured out what Owen was implying, but he didn’t have the focus to see anything but the phone in his hands. 

Billy still hadn’t figured it out though so Owen spelled it out for him as the phone now clutched to his ear rang: “Our sons. He meant our sons, who live together. He meant TK and Carlos. He rigged their house to burn too.” 

There were horrified looks all around now but Owen couldn’t focus on them. The fear coursing through his veins was too all-consuming; there wasn’t room for anything else. 

The ringing stopped and for a split second, Owen thought that maybe, just maybe he was in luck, that TK had finally answered. But his voicemail answered instead at the tail end of the moment and Owen could feel some of the hope he had managed to cling to slip away. 

The others were watching him intently and he knew that the fear was written all over his face. Grace was the first to speak, breaking the tense silence. 

“You all need to go.” 

They all turned to her and Judd opened his mouth but she shook her head, “Those boys need you. With the 126 closed, there isn’t a house close enough to get to them in time. But you’re close here. I’ll call it in to dispatch, and pray a whole lot.” 

Owen nodded, already standing with Judd on his heels. The younger man paused for all of a moment, turning back to his wife who only shook her head. 

“TK and Carlos need you right now Judd, I’ll be fine. Just be careful, and call me when you’re done.”

Judd nodded and leaned forward to give her a quick kiss, “I love you, Gracie.” 

“I love you too, now go!” 

Owen didn’t need to be told twice. He was already halfway out the door before Grace even finished speaking. He jumped into his truck and was momentarily surprised when the passenger door swung open beside him. He turned, hand frozen over the ignition to see Billy climbing in beside him. The other man took a look at him and scoffed. 

“Well, what are you waiting for, New York? We’ve gotta go.” 

So Owen started the truck and sped away from the curb because Billy was right. TK was in danger and nothing else mattered. 

He pressed the speed limit the entire way from the Ryder’s house to the condo. It wasn’t far and Owen was making excellent time as it was, but that fact did nothing to quell the racing of his heart. He can’t believe he hadn’t thought of it before. What kind of father was he that when he was told that someone was going to take what was most important to him and he didn’t immediately think of his son? 

If they were too late and the worst did happen, how did he live with himself?

Billy had the scanner app running beside him, and the sound of his son’s address being relayed by dispatch sent an entirely different chill through him. It made it real, hearing the words outside of his own head. All the while his phone rang between them until TK’s voicemail picked up again and Owen swore. He took a breath and tried to let logic in. Maybe Raymond was just trying to scare them; rigging two places to burn might have taken more time than he had. Maybe they weren’t home, maybe they had decided to go out after everything that had happened today. Maybe they had been able to get out at the first signs — TK had been a firefighter, after all. He would have noticed, he would have known how to safely get them both out. He...

His conjecture broke off sharply as they finally reached their destination and Owen suddenly found that he couldn’t breathe. 

There were flames already eating through the first story, their ominous glow cutting through the night. Owen knew in his gut he had been right but seeing it stoked an entirely new fear within him. TK was in there. Carlos was in there. He needed to get them out. 

He moved towards the structure but suddenly there were hands on him, pulling him back. He rounded on the hands holding him, ready to fight back only to be met with Judd’s unimpressed gaze. 

“Running in there half-cocked and getting yourself hurt isn’t going to help them,” he told him, pressing an AFD t-shirt into his hands. “Cover up your face and let me grab the extinguishers, then we’ll go in.”

Owen followed his instructions without much thought, his shaking hands moving on autopilot to fasten the shirt around his face. His gaze never left the flaming structure before him, his chest aching with the knowledge that his son was trapped in there. It wasn’t long before a fire extinguisher was pressed into his hand by Judd, but it felt like an eternity as he watched the flames grow ever higher. He felt as if he were in those flames himself, the fear and guilt eating away inside of him with every passing breath that he got to take that his son might not.  

And then they were moving, bursting through the front door and attacking the flames with their extinguishers. Owen barely took a moment to survey the downstairs — to see the familiar living space charred and destroyed — before he led the way up the stairs to the bedroom, Billy on his heels. The sound of breaking glass had him running faster and he burst through the door to feel his heart jump into his throat at the sight of Carlos preparing himself to jump out of a second-floor window, TK a step behind him.

He shouted at them to follow him as Billy did his best to quell the flames that threatened to stop them. But Owen knew they wouldn’t because he wouldn’t be deterred. Now that he had the boys in his sight, he wasn’t about to leave here without them; no matter what. 

They both turned and looked at him in shock and he can only imagine how little sense this all must make. But then TK was pulling Carlos towards them and then they were out of the room and down the stairs 

He noted the hand that TK kept on Carlos as he stepped in front of them and wondered how much of it was his training and how much of it was the need to know that he was still with him. It was an instinct he understood, as he led the way and did his best to clear their path with the one fire extinguisher he had. He could hear them behind him but he was almost afraid to turn around, as if somehow if he looked back they would be gone; a modern-day Orpheus giving into his doubt and losing it all. So he focused instead on the flames, on finding the next step. On the way forward. 

His mind had almost started to wander again — pondering the terrors and what-ifs even now — but a piece of the ceiling falling to the ground before him interrupted that spiral, wrenching him back to reality. Being surrounded by fire on all sides without a stitch of gear was unlike anything else and he bit back a cry as some of the smoldering debris landed on his arm. But he pushed on because TK and Carlos were behind him and that was all that mattered. He could weather any amount of pain as long as the boys were safe. 

Finally, they burst through what remained of the front door, and before he even paused to take a breath he turned on his heel to make sure that they were behind him, that he hadn’t failed even more than he already had. 

But there they were, hunched over on their front lawn; taking heaving breaths of fresh air and coughing out the remnants of smoke still trapped in their lungs. 

Distantly Owen heard the sound of footsteps behind him and Tommy ran to join them and of shouts as Judd and Billy spilled out of the front door. Tommy gave him a quick look before making a beeline for the boys, reaching out for TK who shook his head and nodded towards Carlos. Her expression softened ever so slightly as she reached out a hand for Carlos, guiding him (and therefore TK too) further away from the flames still eating through the darkness of the night sky. 

Owen watched them go as Judd appeared at his side, following his gaze before glancing down at Owen’s sleeve. 

“Those could be some nasty burns, Cap,” he observed. “You should get those checked out.”

Even as he said the words the 129 was piling out of their truck and the captain was calling out orders. Owen watched them go but knew with a sinking heart that the damage had already been done in so many ways. He shook his head at Judd a moment later, “They’ll keep.” 

Judd opened his mouth to argue but trailed off when he followed Owen’s gaze back to where TK and Carlos were now getting checked out by the paramedics, Tommy hovering at the edge. His expression turned sad at the sight of Carlos hunched over and TK wrapped around him, running a soothing hand up and down his arm even as his mouth moved in what were likely soft reassurances. 

“Do you think he’ll ever forgive me Judd?” he heard himself ask, and he wasn’t surprised when the other man looked at him sharply. 

“Who?” he asked, “TK?” He started to speak but then stopped as he glanced back over his shoulder at the home that was crumbling to soggy ashes behind them. His eyes turned back to the couple currently seeking solace in each other in the back of an ambulance before he sighed: “Yeah, he will. He’s good like that. It’s just gonna take some time.” 

Owen nodded his agreement but kept his mouth shut so what he was really thinking didn’t slip through. Maybe, he thought, forgiveness isn’t even what he is looking for. Forgiving could be easy and TK had perfected the art over the course of his life. He knew his son loved him, but love didn’t always mean the same as trust. Trust was something else entirely and Owen couldn’t help but wonder how long it would be before his son ever put his trust in him again. 

[aros001]

Going in blind: Watching season 2 for the first time. Random thoughts.

Huh. Only 7 episodes. Not complaining necessarily. For series with an ongoing plot I've definitely become more in favor with their seasons only having as many episodes as they need rather than them having to stretch themselves out to full up a certain number of episodes, which can lead to padding and just bad character moments.

Episode 1: Jeez. Catra visiting Shadow Weaver's cell just to rub her success in her face and verbally abuse her back for once. It's like a twisted version of Zuko and Ozai from ATLA. Catra's upbringing under her was abusive but this is far from a healthy way for her to deal with it. She's basically deliberately swimming in her resentment.

Episode 2: It's not that I'm rooting for her but by-golly was it fun to watch Catra act like just the absolute worst she could while she was Glimmer and Bow's captive.

I touched on this in season 1 but part of the drama of the heroes feeling guilt over leaving Entrapta behind is kind of lost on me a bit simply because it was her own fault it happened. She deliberately went back into the purge room because of her machine obsession, which then closed on her and erupted in flames. It was more than reasonable to assume she was dead and no one but her was to blame, so I'm not really able to be invested in their guilt over it.

That said, weirdly enough I do like that her "abandonment" doesn't seem to be even a blip on the radar for Entrapta herself. She hasn't joined the horde because she resents the heroes or felt left behind, she simply is so obsessed with machines and experimentation that she'll be on the side of whoever lets her do the most of that. Like, it's selfish and irresponsible but it's very in-character and I'd far rather have a traitor motivation be based in that over something stupid like a misunderstanding.

Episode 3: I love the mental image of Shadow Weaver thinking up princess-themed ghost stories to tell Adora as a child.

So, if the previous She-Ra Mara separated Eternia from the other realms/planets/whatever she did and that's what cut off the She-Ra line for 1000 years, I'm guessing Hordak may be from the time before that happened, thus his drive to create portals and calling Eternia a backwards world. Either he's naturally long-lived or his technology is extending his life.

Episode 4: You know, you could maybe argue it was vague enough that it could be taken other ways but I'm definitely getting some vibes here that Scorpia is crushing on Catra. She literally refers to the two of them as soulmates at one point. I know she says she's trying to be friends but this feels a level beyond that.

Fun little reference to the original She-Ra cartoon thrown in there (and maybe Cowboy Bebop...? James Bond...? What was Glimmer's art style supposed to be?). I like how it is more like just playful ribbing than anything outright dumping on the original. Again, I've never seen original She-Ra but whenever remakes/adaptations go out of their way to trash to the original I always kind of wonder why they bothered doing an adaptation if the original is just that bad? Also, I was having trouble sleeping so it was about 2am when I watched this episode and the very Eartha Kitt Catwoman Catra made it very difficult for me not to lose my **** and stay quiet. With how much of a contrast that version is from the one in this series, that was hilarious. Bonus note, it's a nice touch that Frosta's version of Catra is a pretty crasher in that sweet suit, since that's the only impression of Catra she's ever had.

Adora being a chosen one is definitely elevated up simply by how much the pressure of what she's supposed to be is getting to her. I'm likely going to keep making Avatar The Last Airbender comparisons throughout the series but that's partly because I went into this series figuring it'd be at least structured similar to ATLA (season 1 being more episodic and a little more kid-friendly as it builds up the world before getting more serious later). Adora and Aang are interesting to compare here. Aang's worries early on were less apparent because he was more in-denial/choosing not to think about his problems that much, which fit with his character as a free-spirited Air Nomad. While Adora is much more military-minded. She can't keep herself from thinking about her problems and trying to prepare for the worst-case scenario. And jeez, that idea of who/how Catra is in her mind. Not only beating her but making her watch as she takes everything she cares about away. Not Shadow Weaver, not Lord Hordak, but Catra. That whole Lion King Mufasa/Scar moment between them in episode 11 and their fight in the S1 finale really did a number on her mental image of her old friend. Not reasonably so.

Minor note: I'm sure I'm the only one who got this impression but by the look of it, the way the robot's eye moved, and the music, after getting the soda spilled on it that little spybot gained sentience for half a second and then immediately died. It was so darkly comedic I had to laugh.

Episode 5: So that red disc is basically She-Ra's Red Kryptonite, having an effect on the mind rather than the body. The drunk Adora joke doesn't really do it for me but it did get some nice interactions going between Scorpia and Sea Hawk, two characters I certainly wasn't expecting to bond. I did really like Catra's panic when berserker She-Ra nearly beheads her. The implication is that is Adora really wanted to kill her Catra would already probably be dead. It's a thing I like about powerhouse characters like Superman or Aang, who could just demolish everything around them and don't simply because they're a good person...which in turn makes them the scariest person on the planet when they're well and truly ticked off. I'm not going to lie, I do kind of want to see a She-Ra version of Aang when Appa was stolen or when Superman fought The Elite.

Also, Catra's line of "I have control over Adora. I'm not giving that up for anything.". There's a lot to read into there.

Episode 6: I guess my prediction was sort of right. Shadow Weaver became basically a magic parasite and while it did increase the power she's capable of the implication seems to be that she needs a constant fix of magic to keep herself going, thus her attachment to the Black Garnet.

Have we seen Micah before? Given how long ago the flashback seems set, the fact that Shadow Weaver didn't kill him and thus he probably becomes someone important later in life, I'm guessing he's Glimmer's dad and the queen's late husband, since I think he's the only important male character whose face we haven't seen yet. Also, he's voice by Ezra from Star Wars Rebels and that cracks me up for some reason. It's the exact same voice and a relatively similar character.

I compared Catra and Shadow Weaver with a kind of twisted version of Zuko and Ozai and that definitely still fits here. Both Catra and Zuko confront their parent and call them out for the inexcusable abuse they put them through but while that moment was the start of Zuko's upwards journey this and SW's betrayal seems like it's going to cause Catra to spiral even further. Makes sense why Adora leaving affected her so much. She's probably the only one Catra's ever had that she could consistently trust and rely on, even if she did somewhat resent her.

Not surprised Hordak is getting along with Entrapta. She's not socially aware enough to be scared or intimidated by him, so she'll speak frankly, and since all she wants to talk about is the machines, experiments, and how they could get them to work Hordak probably doesn't take much issue with that. She's producing results, which is what he cares about, thus also why Shadow Weaver and Catra started losing favor with him. I wonder if Catra is going through imposter syndrome? Shadow Weaver had that line that Entrapta earned her place next to Hordak and, if you think about it, Catra hasn't really "earned" anything. We saw that she didn't really take her training or studies that seriously, showing up late to combat practice and even getting partial credit for what Adora beat. She wasn't promoted to Force Captain because of her own abilities but because Adora had defected when she was supposed to get that title. She's come close to a few victories but never really had any except for Glimmer and Bow's kidnapping...whom she then basically let escape when she returned Adora's sword to her. She doesn't have the slightest clue how the horde's bureaucracy works when trying to get things done, like simply getting troops armor. Given how much better than her Adora always was and how little she herself has to her name, I wonder is subconsciously Catra believes she doesn't deserve her current position and thus why she's fretting so much over trying to prove herself.

Episode 7: Am I mistaken or did Bow's parents say that he's the youngest of TWELVE siblings? I was going to ask whether Bow was adopted or if his dad's used a surrogate or if maybe there's even just simply magic in She-Ra's world that allows two people of the same sex to have a child together but now I'm just focused on the 12 kids thing. I get nervous just imagining myself having more than one. You should see me when I'm with two cats. I have to pet both of them because I'd feel like I'd be making one feel left out and like the other is the favorite. I'm a mess with kids.

The dad with dreadlocks (Lance?), his design looked familiar to me and I finally realized it reminded me a of a fanart design for a human Grim from The Grim Adventures of Billy and Mandy. Very different voices between those two characters though.

I wonder if there's any significance to the robot protecting the crystal having the same design as those in the artic in episode 5? Obviously both have the connection to the First Ones but the robot in the forest who was also protecting First Ones' tech had a more insect-like design over these more worm/Graboid ones.

I'm kind of curious what Hordak would have done if Catra had told the truth. Given his interactions with her and Shadow Weaver he doesn't seem like the time to tolerate failure but I suppose the implication here is that he at least would respect those who own up to their failures. Or I suppose more simply he was just testing to see if she would lie to him and since she did there's little merit in keeping her in a position of authority anymore where she could lie about important things again.

Season 2 verdict: Still enjoying it. Another person on this reddit recommended I view seasons 2 and 3 as one since they are basically just one season split in two. I was going to do that but this ended up longer than I thought I would, so I'll just do 2 and 3 separate to keep them semi-organized and easier to read.

I think overall Catra is my favorite character since she has the most interesting backstory, interactions, and just general path through the story out of everyone. She's like Pearl from Steven Universe or, well, Zuko. There's just so much baggage there that she's trying and kind of failing to deal with. I'm always invested in whatever's happening when she's onscreen. Hordak so far is a good big boss villain for Adora to face but Catra is a good archenemy for her.

Original Reddit post: https://www.reddit.com/r/PrincessesOfPower/comments/o027y3/going_in_blind_watching_season_2_for_the_first/

[weeklyfangirl]

Frat Boy Pt. 21

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7 (1), part 7 (2), part 8, part 9, part 10, part 11, part 12, part 13 , part 14, part 15, part 16, part 17, part 18, part 19 , part 20

HI LOVIES. Please enjoy a Friday update on the Frat Boy universe. This one is a bit of a breather after the TUMULTUOUS ANGST of the last chappie. Shorter than my usual, but it’s all the chapter needed. Tons more y/n and Harry interaction on the way in the next! Have a safe and happy day loves xx

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

Things I want:

Live a life that helps others

Financial freedom

Experience a great love

Visit the the Pincio Gardens in Italy

To have more dreams and fewer nightmares

Doodle more

Acquire a first edition book, either because an old  friendly man who owns an antique bookshop decides to give it to me in a bonding moment, or because I have accomplished #2 and I am celebrating being a Boss Bitch

To be happy

Please note: not necessarily in that order

 It was taped above my desk, waiting for me to bring it in to the next session. I hesitated to write number 6. It was a dream I hardly entertained after committing my scholarly life to pursue medicine. I used to love to doodle. All the time. Since elementary school. I doodled so much my mom dedicated a wall in the house to my illustrations. She hung a sign above it that affectionately said “Y/N’s Doodles.” Seriously, you couldn’t get me to stop. Even if it was gross sappy sketches of my crush Billy who I would NEVER show on the playground at recess.   

 My doodling stopped how these things normally do. Because life grew busier than anything else, and the sketchpad and easel my dad had bought for me at a garage sale became ignored, collecting dust in the corner of my room. At some point, it’d become a year since I’d drawn anything, and then it was two, and three, and by this point I’d realized I was the one who’d need to create her own stability in life and medicine was the more logical fit. It wasn’t that I didn’t see the value in drawing anymore, I just had other things take up my time. It became a comfort just knowing I used to draw. Paul had paved his way, and now I was on my way to do the same. At least with medicine, my soul felt fed. It was almost comfort enough. 

  “oH WE GOT A ROGUE ONE.” 

 A flying toenail hit my eye. 

 “WHAT THE-” I flailed my arms, as though there were a thousand more coming. Renny’s mouth opened in shock, her guilty body hunched over her bent leg. Clippers in hand.  

 “Sorry!!” Renny burst up laughing.

 “oH MY GOSH CAN YOU DO THAT OVER A TRASH CAN OR SOMETHING?!” 

 “IT HAD A MIND OF ITS OWN!!” she screamed back. 

 I blinked rapidly, my left eye watering up and spilling painless tears. “Well I’m going to have conjunctivitis at the studio later. Or I’ll be stumbling in blind.” I wiped it away.

 I heard another clip and she put up her hands with another giggle. 

 “All done. And you won’t stumble, I’m going to be there.” Renny extended her leg, her perfectly trimmed foot nearly touching the ceiling.

 “You’re just going to solicit Zayn to be his next subject.” 

 “Maybe,” her grin grew devious. “But also because I want to see if he captured the angelic beauty and complex nymph nuances of my best friend.” 

 I put a hand to my chest, still aching from uncertainty. “Honored.” 

 “Want to watch another episode until it’s time to go?” 

 This whole lazy morning had been an OC Housewives bingefest. She’d seen it on my homepage and had a complete spazz, twitching whilst proclaiming but i’ve been trying to get you to watch this show for YEARS!! When she saw the old season I was on, though, she didn’t have to question why her pestering had miraculously worked. She didn’t mention him aloud besides giving me a pointed look. And so, we watched it, even though I wasn’t really in the mood to see anything about Harry right now. It’d hurt more than I thought to walk away from him last night, and to see how sad he looked when I did. 

 After last night, he hadn’t posted anything to social media. He’d called, twice, but I knew he was drunk, or worse, and I was tired, and whatever he would say he could tell me in the morning. Even though I knew he wouldn’t. 

 And he didn’t. 

 And therein lay the problem. 

 It hurt to see his family on my little box of a computer screen, weird to see his life and get glimpses of his childhood. I felt like a hacker spying on home videos. But then I reminded myself that thousands of people had already done the same. At this point, it was just… morbid curiosity.

 “Nah, I don’t know if I can handle any more of that right now. Dr. Rhinecuff is going to yell at me if I don’t return these scanned copies to him by Monday.” 

 “Ew, he smells like meat.” 

 “RENNY!!” 

 “I’m just saying. That one time I went with you it smelled like pastrami in his office. He has a PhD, but isn’t with-it enough to buy air freshener.”

 “He likes pastrami sandwiches, let him live.” 

 She scrolled on her phone, not bothering to respond, and my gaze turned to the window. 

 “Hey Renny?” 

 “Hm.” 

 A bird flew close to the glass, halting just before it hit it, then zooming off in the opposite direction. “What’d you do when your parents were fighting?” 

 “Ummm…” I knew the question registered in her mind when she stopped scrolling, suddenly concerned. “Are your parents okay?”

 “Yeah. I mean, kind of.” I glossed over it, not caring to get into the bitter details. “I was just curious.” 

 “Uhh..” She plucked at the soft cotton of her cotton candy pajamas that were fraying at the knees. “I lost my virginity to Zach,” she half-laughed.   

 “Zach? Neighbor boy Zach?” 

 Renny nodded. She always sounded a little sad when she talked about him. Zach was the hot college boy who shared a backyard fence with Renny, the girl who may or may not have used her kitchen stool to peak over and see him workout on the grass every summer he came home. I’d known they’d slept together. I just didn’t think he was her first. 

 “I just tried to be out of the house as much as I could,” she said. “Found my true love Mary J.” 

 “Oh.” 

 “It was shitty, but I’m glad I got it over with.”

 “The divorce or your virginity.” 

 “Both,” she chortled. “Why what’s up? Are you sad or something? I have a j in my drawer.” 

 “No, no, I’m fine.” Mostly I was just wondering what it must be like to feel so sexually liberated. In my house sex wasn’t talked about. At all. The inevitable sex scene in every other movie would result in my dad blaring out “WHAT KIND OF MOVIE IS THIS!” in an attempt to make it less awwkard, but having it backfire and only make it horrendously more awkward. I wasn’t saving my virginity for anyone in particular, but after all those romance novels, I wanted it to be… something. I wanted to feel something towards the person where it would justify something I’ve kept to myself for so long. I wanted it to be intense. I wanted it to be like the books. Like a Frank Sinatra song that swept up your heart and transported you back to a time of gentlemen and cigars and women in long evening gowns with fur coats and martinis. 

 “I wish I could just get it over with,” I confessed. One half of me screamed YOU’RE IN YOUR TWENTIES HAVE ALL THE SEX while the other half said YOU’VE WAITED THIS LONG DAMN IT HOLD OUT A LITTLE LONGER. I didn’t know which part of me was compromising more. 

 Renny leaned in, quick. “Would you do it with Harry?” 

 Like the flip of a switch, I remembered the sensuous heat of his body against mine, wrapping me up and pressing me against him where we just fit. And I couldn’t imagine how much better it’d feel to be even more connected to him. 

 “Maybeeee…?” 

 But then there was last night. 

 I cringed. No matter how with me he’d seemed… he couldn’t have been present after mixing whatever the hell he took and a handle of alcohol. Did I really want someone like that? Someone who could only give a shell of themselves? 

 “No, I wouldn’t. Or- ugh, I don’t know. I don’t know if it could ever mean as much to him.” 

 Renny nodded. “I mean, don’t let him pressure you, obviously. If he does, I’ll kick his baby maker smack into his prostate. Prostate. See, anatomy. You taught me that.” 

 “Haha, no, he’s not like that.” My brows stitched. I was confused why he wasn’t more like that, actually. We’d known each other for several months now and he hadn’t even put a finger in me. When I thought about it, it actually frustrated me. Don’t pressure me to do anything, but I wanted to be pushed to do something. I was never the bold one in areas like this. 

 Not that I should be so willing to do anything with him anymore anyways. Something shifted in me when I’d seen him last night. It wasn’t a shift I could easily describe, but it’d set me a foot apart from my heart. A bit of me was shocked that it had happened so suddenly. 

 But this shift was new, and my heart still wanted what it wanted. I knew that if I watched any more OC Housewives with Harry’s toddler curls and surfer tan, I’d be sucked right back into speculating about what our future kids could look like. And if I saw him? 

 You were right, Harry. You are fucked. 

 I cringed again. That was harsh. That was very very harsh. 

 I didn’t know if I’d have the courage to apologize. What if my pheromones went berserk and magnetized me to his side??

 Renny was right.

 I needed therapy. 

 The clippers were tossed back on my desk.

 “Thanks,” she said. “Have you started on your DG Double P yet?” 

 DG Double P = Renny Speak for DG Pretty Please. 

 I groaned. “No. I don’t know how I’m going to do it, honestly. I have to-”

 “NO!!! Don’t tell me. We’re not supposed to tell each other.” Her hand extended in panic.

 “Fine. I can keep a secret.” 

 I was getting a little too good at that lately.

 She moved onto her belly, splaying her arms out in a dramatic fashion, face squished against the comforter. “Isn’t it just killing you inside.” She was dead serious. 

 “Yeah, more than you know.” 

 And I was serious, too. 

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

 I wasn’t expecting people to dress up as much as they did. Donned in my only pair of yoga pants and a chunky white sweater, I walked arm-in-arm with Renny past girls in cocktail dresses and guys in button-downs. 

 Something that sounded like a baby’s cry filled my ears, but it was gone as soon as we walked through the doors to the on-campus gallery.  . 

 “Woah did you hear that?” 

 Renny nodded, tossing her head back. “There’s a baby somewhere.” 

 It reminded me of the bodiless screams in my nightmare. In my chunky sweater, I shivered undetectably.

 The on-campus gallery rotated exhibits throughout the year, but this time, student sculptures were on pedestals, nightmarish portraits hung on the walls, and red and orange tapestries swooped down and across the ceiling in a cirque-du-soleil moment as if to secure us beneath fire. Some students had separate booths, but other pieces of work trailed seamlessly into the next. 

 A tree made from photographs and newspaper took up the center of the space. Zayn had been so adamant about his muse having life, I wondered if that was the focus of this exhibit - to capture natural life. But I suppose all art did. 

 “It’s the circle of life exhibit,” Renny stated, as if reading my thoughts. 

 “How’d you know that?” 

 She held up a pamphlet she must’ve grabbed from the entrance. 

 I quickly scanned the room, hoping to find Zayn quickly so I could skip out just as quick. 

 Several of my professors were here, including Dr. Rhinecuff. When he saw me, I raised my hand, but he raised his cup of red wine awkwardly and looked away. 

 My hand wavered. 

 Odd. 

 Zayn was standing by the tree, speaking with an older woman. Her skin was a rich brown, short hair hidden beneath a chic scarf. The man beside her looked around the same age with graying facial hair, a pocket hanky, and beaded bracelets. Art professors. 

 I caught his gaze, and he gestured me over. 

 “Y/N, these are my instructors. David and Ebony.”   

 Their eyes lit up in recognition. “He did you a great justice,” David said, gray moustache twitching with the words.

 Ebony beamed. “Oh yes, a piece was already sold. He’s going to be the next big wig before he graduates,” she gushed. “Zayn, I’m sure you’ll be splitting the profits with the heart of the piece.”

 She gestured to me and his smile widened, but my stomach sank faster. 

 “I didn’t know these pieces were going to be sold.”

 Ebony sensed my concern. The wine in her glass swirled. “We thought allowing the pieces to be shown and auctioned was a good way to replicate what many of them should be doing once they graduate. The whole department gets involved, and these kids put in a lot of work, and the reputation of starving artists isn’t something we want to buy into here.”

 I nodded. “I mean, that’s great. That’s… really amazing.” 

 Zayn couldn’t meet my eyes. He knew. He could sense my hesitance, too. 

 “Now he can finally afford a nice dinner to take you out!” David proclaimed. 

 We were all quiet for a minute. “You know, for a thank you dinner,” David covered up. Zayn’s brows scrunched and he shook his head a bit, not knowing where David’s comment came from. 

 “Do you do this regularly?” Ebony asked, steering the conversation away from an awkward moment. 

 My ears pricked up when I realized she was looking at me. “Excuse me?” 

 “Well I was just thinking…” a light laugh lifted as if her idea would be outrageous. “Would you mind sitting in for one of my classes on Monday? Our model had a sudden death-” 

 “My God,” David proclaimed. 

 Ebony waved her hand. “-in his family. I haven’t called to replace him yet.”

 It quieted as they looked at me, waiting for a response. “Oh, I don’t… I don’t usually do this. At all. It was a chance thing.” 

 “Luck be the artist.” David raised his glass. 

 Ebony followed suit, looking at my empty hand. “You just going to let her stand there without a drink?”

 “Yeah, Zayn. What kind of treatment is this?” I teased. 

 He did a slight bow. “Apologies. We’ll walk to drinks, immediately.” He pulled us away, leading us further into the showroom as his head dipped low to my ear. “Renny just passed us to meet Felix and them. They’re through here.” 

 We stepped under an archway that led into a darker-lit room, but his hand stopped me beneath the nook. “Did yeh notice anything?”

 Yeah. I was noticing how close we were in this archway. He saw my eyes start to squint in thought and he turned me around to face the room we’d just left. 

 “Look closer.” 

 My eyes roamed the crowd, trying to find some sort of person, or pattern he could be referring to. With a brief seize of my heart, I expected to see somebody from the gang. 

 “Look at the artwork, Y/N.” His breath warmed my skin. 

 The paintings all seemed to be bright, though sticking to red, orange, blacks, and grays. Wait, forget a pallette pattern. The next painting had blue and purple, too. One sculpture looked like a writhing ghost, twisting and reaching for something above. Or maybe it was an unearthed tree root. Despite all the bold colors, there was something off-putting about how bright they all were. It wasn’t a soothing brightness. It was almost violent. The orange and red writhing tapestries warped the ceiling into something hot. 

 “Is it hell?” I chortled, but quickly quieted. I expected him to take offense, but his hand went lightly around my waist with a small smile.

 “Could be. See-” his arm extended out to scan the perimeter “-all this art is supposed to represent death, but challenge the notion of it through color.” 

 “How so?” 

 “Yeh know it’s usually your blacks, and your grays, s’depressing shit. But we’re born from death. Before life, there was nothing, but something. It’s bold and necessary and there, and no one really knows whatever comes before. Or after.” He looked at the room, taking a sip of wine. I watched as he swallowed, and I imagined the wine running down. “What is death but an uncertain existence.” He said the thought almost happily, looking at me with a slight smirk. “Could be anythin’.” 

 He took a deep breath, letting his hand touch the top of the archway. It was then that I noticed it wasn’t just plain drywall. A collage of photographs ran all along the inside. 

 He wasn’t as tall as Harry, but his hand still reached the top, scuffing across a picture of an African landscape taped over a toddler eating fruity pebbles. 

 “They’re pictures. Everyone donated one,” he said. 

 A strand of words were painted over the collage, running from one end of the archway to the other, and I tilted my head back to read it. “Things... that…. make... m..e …...feel alive.” 

 “Everyone was able to design their space in order to control, to some extent, how their art was perceived. Everyone was a part of the transition space.” 

 “Very nice,” I noted, slightly put-off. I hadn’t been expecting this art show to be so… professional. “Zayn, this is amazing. Like, really, truly, professional-grade stuff is happening. The presentation, the pieces, everything.”

 His smile grew wider, putting cool hands over my eyes. I flinched, but let him. 

 I felt him come closer. 

“Listen now,” he urged. 

 I listened, but I wasn’t sure for what. There was the familiar busy rumble of people mingling, parents visiting their kids, and professors droning on about the talent of their students. But it was chatter. I couldn’t make out one conversation over another. I shrugged up against his other hand that was atop my shoulder. 

 “Sometimes you need to change where you’re planted to understand.” 

 I hoped he could see my cross expression because I couldn’t tell if he was bullshitting me right now. It’d been a day. It’d been a night. And I wasn’t in the mood for more philosophical ramblings - especially about death. “I don’t know what you mean,” I sighed. 

 “Meaning I have to move you closer to the speakers.” He let out a breathy laugh. “Jus’ keep your eyes closed, okay?” 

 I nodded. His hand moved, tilting my head to its side. Eyes still closed, I became self-conscious imagining people trying to move past me, and here I was, planted, eyes closed in the middle of the archway. My cheeks heated. It was unnerving knowing people could see me when I couldn’t see them. And anyway, I must’ve looked ridiculous. 

 “What do you hear?” he urged. 

 “I hear a lot of people talking,” I griped. 

But right when I was about to open my eyes-  

 I heard a familiar chirping through the chatter. 

 “Birds?” I opened my eyes. 

 “Observance can be taught, sometimes.” Zayn leant back, looking mighty proud of himself. 

 “Why are there birds?” 

 “We’re entering life,” he smiled, backing into the space. I tipped my wine back, several long gulps lightening my step as I followed him. Immediately, I noticed much more natural, earthier tones. For being a room of life, it was surprisingly darker than the prior room.

 Renny, Felix, and Andre were huddled in the center where a makeshift wall-on-wheels covered in vines divided the room in half. 

 My eyes widened, trying to adjust to the dimness. “It’s a lot darker in here.” 

 “All intentional. They decided to play with light in here. People usually think of life being bright ‘n that, but it’s also when we experience varying degrees of darkness. There’s a balance to things and the trouble is finding it.” Understanding laced his voice as his dark eyes bore into mine, almost completely black. One look from Zayn and I was reminded of all the weight I’d been carrying. I fidgeted, uncomfortable seeing myself in his eyes. 

 “Y/N, get over here!” Renny called. My shoulders visibly relaxed. My saving grace. “You didn’t tell me you did this,” she said lowly as soon as I got close enough, shocked excitement barely contained. Her giddy smile gave it away though. “Miss sexy secret keeper over here.” 

 “What do you mean?” 

 She playfully poked my sides, but Andre and Felix avoided my gaze. Something wasn’t right. And it stirred my stomach, my body already knowing, somehow. 

 I turned in slow motion, the charcoal drawings in my peripherals stopping me in place. Framed amidst the vines, my face was etched onto paper, scrunching and twisting in various expressions. But my body was attached and twisting, too. And it was bare, bent over, spread out, laying down… My eyes scanned over them a dozen times in a second. 

 I was naked. 

 In all of them. 

 One was titled “21st Century Love.” In this one, I faced the viewer, but looked past them, sorrowful eyes, brows furrowed, breasts I’d never shown on full display. A hickey or two on my neck. A painful sting gripped my chest. I looked sad. I looked so sad.  

 Tunnel vision, a blurred Renny rushed down to the floor, and a distant part of me registered something wet splatter on my feet. 

 The wine had dropped.

 I’d dropped it. 

 I was trapped in a shell. My body was numb. 

 “Babes, you okay?” Renny asked, her voice somewhere far away. Somewhere outside the shell, her voice drowned in the busy rumbling, with the birds, with the watchers. People were watching me now. I was being watched. “Felix, grab some towels!” she barked. 

 I looked horrified, towards Zayn, but changed my mind just as fast. I couldn’t look at him. I couldn’t even breathe. 

 He didn’t know me at all. He could stare at me for a thousand sessions and paint every crevice, sunspot, blemish, and mole and still not see me. How was an artist this blind? How could he not know that this was the last thing I could ever want? How could he picture me so… intimately?

 The paintings seemed to swirl into one before bouncing back out into their separate exposees. 

 Because that’s what it was. 

 An exposure. 

 A stranger could pay to have me in their home. 

 The floor spun, vision spotting. 

 My lungs tightened, tearing me away from Renny, from Felix, from Andre. From Zayn, the artist who painted a confused girl so unashamed. So honestly. Savagely and Unabashedly. 

 “I didn’t want this.” 

 And it was when I was halfway out the door that I realized the voice had come from me, a mantra pushing my shell all the way home. 

part 22

[deathvalleyusa]

mirror, mirror

Summary: Chrissy and Billy experiment in the hotel bathroom.

Pairing: Billy x Chrissy (OC)

word count: 1553

A/N: takes place sometime before chapter 22 of BOA. just some good ol’ fun smut.

Warnings: shameless smut, dirty talk, idk what else, it’s billy and chrissy

Hotels felt like liminal spaces now. 

Time seemed to slow to a crawl within them, reality bending in strange ways. It was in hotel rooms where Chrissy slept, ate, relaxed most days now. Where she spent her time imagining being home, or better yet, at Billy’s house. Where she spent obscene amounts of money making long distance calls to a certain blonde. Whispers and soft sighs filled those strange rooms, pulling her to a different reality when Billy was in some way present.

Having him there in the hotel with her gave that same energy. The entire aura of the room changed, time slowing and speeding past in incomparable ways. Need and contentment living as one. 

This particular night, they found themselves in a hotel in Indianapolis. Chrissy had given herself time to unpack, ignoring the impatient sighing and click of the remote as Billy surfed through the same few channels. 

It wasn’t long before patience ran out. She felt his hands travel to her hips, gripping firmly. Chrissy tried to shoot a glance back to him, giving up only to catch a heavy lidded gaze in the mirror. She set down the toiletries bag, rocking back against him.

Billy gave an appreciative grunt, never once breaking eye contact with her. A familiar hardness curved gently against her, freer than normal but still held at bay by the straining fabric of his underwear.

"You look so pretty, with your stockings and garter," Billy hummed, a sly smile on his face. "Makes me want to fuck you as hard as I can again the sink."

She could already feel wetness starting to saturate her panties as her stomach tightened. It never did take much. A glance, a few words, it all brought on such anticipation her body couldn't handle it. 

"You just want to watch yourself," Chrissy whispered.

"No," Billy drawled, "I want you to watch yourself."

He took her jaw in his hand, guiding her to look directly into her own hazel eyes. A kiss graced the top of her head.

“Look at this pretty face,” he cooed, a smirk on his own. “Don’t you want to know what it looks like when you come? See what I see?”

Chrissy let out a whine as she gripped the edge of the counter. The thought had crossed her mind before, but hearing Billy say it out loud stoked fire deep in her belly. 

His hand left her face, skimming down her back until it reached the top of her underwear beneath her garter belt. She shuddered, watching his delighted face in the mirror as his other hand left her hip. Cool air hit her slit as he yanked her underwear down to the clasps of the garter, a gasp leaving her. Another louder one followed as cool air was replaced by the heat of his hand.

“You’re a mess,” Billy said, gentle. Almost sympathetic. “Always such a mess and I barely touch you. Like fuckin’ magic.”

“Please,” she blurted out, catching his gaze in the reflection. “Please, just—”

“Just what?” came that measured tone again. “Touch you?”

His fingers ran against her folds. As her head started to fall listlessly, unable to take his teasing, his other hand cupped her chin, pulling her gaze back up at herself. How intent he was at making her watch herself come undone sent a rush of electricity through her body. 

“Fuck you?”

"Billy—” Chrissy started, only to be interrupted by his thickness sliding into her. "Ah!”

It was dizzying, the way her face relaxed as her grip on the sink tightened. The way her tits bounced in the confines of her bra, chestnut hair swinging back and forth with every thrust Billy gave to her. How his hand cupped her face so gently, making sure Chrissy could see every last expression she made, how her mouth rounded out as moans left pink lips. 

Eventually, she caught Billy's gaze in the mirror. Amused. Aroused. Enjoying every bit of control he had in these moments. 

It wasn't often anymore that Chrissy felt like she surrendered herself fully to him. That was the nature of their relationship, always challenging one another. But in moments like these, pressed against unfamiliar laminate, hearing him slide in and out of her wetness, she gave in to curiosity. Wanted to know where he'd take her. 

It was hard to keep focus on herself when, out of the corner of her eye, she could see that beautiful sandy mane moving with each thrust into her. Truly, she loved watching him as he fucked her, seeing his expression float to bliss. 

As his hips snapped against the plushness of her ass, she let out a halting moan. Her insides began to wind tighter and tighter, aching for release as Billy continued a steady pace.

“Look at that face,” he cooed. “You see why I get so hot for you now?”

“Mhm,” she murmured, letting out another groan as he gripped her hips harder.

“You see those lips?” Billy continued, thumb stroking her skin. “Hard to not imagine ‘em around my cock.”

Chrissy made eye contact with him in the mirror, giving a cheeky smile as she curved her back to arch further into him. Billy swore under his breath, unable to tear his gaze from hers as Chrissy tossed her hair from her face.

“You could’ve just asked nicely and they’d be there,” she purred. Forearms rested against the smooth counter, her face resting atop as she spread her legs as far as she could with the minor restriction of garters and underwear. 

“You,” Billy breathed as he let go of her hips, “are phenomenal. Better than porn.”

Chrissy let out a breathy laugh, turning around to face him. The snap of her garters hit her ears as her underwear fell to the floor, lace bra following not far behind. Billy was spellbound; only when her hands guided his to the swell of her breasts did he seem to snap back to reality.

She let a moan rumble in her throat as he kissed her, tongue tracing around hers as the exchange became hurried. Another prick of heat formed in her stomach, flame fanned higher as his thumb wandered to a rosy nipple. Chrissy let out a needy groan, knees buckling together as his mouth pressed to her neck, no doubt leaving a mark she’d be thankful to have a silk scarf to cover with. 

Behind her, things clattered into the porcelain sink as Billy lifted her atop the bathroom counter, cock pressing between her thighs to again find her own needy sex. Lips connected with her breast.

She felt ready to split apart, her whole body tingling with the anticipation of the ultimate reward. Billy’s grunts and moans mixing with hers only brought her closer, white heat tearing through her entire being. Soaring, then a fall deep into herself. Fingernails dug into his tanned shoulder, Chrissy’s breath ragged as she tried to compose herself. Billy had slowed, only enough to let her body adjust and ready itself for more.

“Billy,” Chrissy said, hoarse. “Fuck, Billy. Do it again.”

He kissed her, hunger for his own pleasure apparent. A few rough thrusts brought out a chorus of moans from her.

“Like that?” Billy asked, thumbing across her nipple. “Or you want it harder?”

“Harder.” There was no hesitation to her answer. 

"Hm." Billy’s face broke out in a grin. “Sluts like you always want it harder.”

“Only yours,” Chrissy gasped, feeling him give another hard thrust. “Only your slut, Billy.”

“Good,” he whispered, giving her a kiss. It was the most chaste thing about this night; planted on her cheek, soft and gentle. The antithesis of what she had asked for, what he would soon give.

Bodies pressed against each other, Billy slamming into her with such ferocity that her voice cracked with each punctuated moan. It was an animalistic impulse that took over, both racing to find their end. It felt as if she couldn’t be fucked harder than she was now.

“Billy—” she managed to say before the second wave crashed over her. A pleasurable numbness came over her before her whole body grew oversensitive.

“Mm,” he said between grunts. “My name sounds so good on your lips.”

Chrissy rewarded him again with his name, dripping in delirious pleasure. It was too much, every bit of her overstimulated. A few more powerful thrusts, another call of his name, and Billy spilled inside her. 

It was only after Chrissy had come down from the floating place her mind had wandered to did she realize the mess below her. Her things scattered across the floor, the meticulousness of her post-flight ritual gone. Stockings hung on her legs, askew. And Billy, rosy and spent, gave no heed to it all. He seemed to bask in the chaos around them, once upon a time their default. 

Chrissy hoped it would show itself again. The disregard for anything but themselves for a few moments made everything feel eternal. Ethereal. If she wasn’t afraid of Billy laughing, she’d admit their oneness was almost spiritual. Especially here, in these liminal rooms.

“Hey,” she whispered, stroking down his bicep.

“Hm,” came the raspy answer.

“Love you.”

There was a beat, and the feeling of a smile against her shoulder. “Love you too.”

[addictofsupernatural]

Emotions (pt. 9)

Billy Hargrove x reader

Summary: Y/n and Billy have the day to themselves, or so they think.

Word Count: 1376

Chapter 1 • Ch. Masterlist • Chapter 10

You both drove through a forest, where you stopped at a lake. The whole place was beautiful, and there was a perfect breeze passing by. "This is really pretty, but what about the pool?" You asked. You felt his anxious feelings begining to grow, and clarified. "Not that I don't like this. I like the fact that it's just the two of us. I'm just curious."

"I didn't want anybody to bug us. Especially not Heather. She's working right now."

You nodded contently. "But I didn't bring a bathing suit."

Billy chuckled and took off his shirt. "So?" You smiled and shook your head, but followed his lead. You took off your shirt and jeans, leaving you in your panties and bra. "You sure you wanna stop there?"

You giggled. "What if someone passes by? My body's only for you to see."

He grinned, pulling your waist to give you a kiss. "How are you so good at having me cave in to you?"

You shrugged. "I just have that effect on you." He tried to kiss you, but you dodged the kiss and ran away from him, jumping in the water and him following after. "Yup. I just have that effect."

He then kissed you. "Yes you do."

You both swam and played water games with each other until you were hungry for some lunch. As you got out of the water to change back, you left your shirt off and shook the water out of your hair. "You trying to get me turned on doll?" Billy asked as you combed your hair with your fingers.

"Nope. You just get turned on easily babe."

"And there it is again. You know calling babe makes me turned on." You shook your head and giggled, walking to the car.

You went to a drive-thru and ate in the car together. Afterwards you put your shirt back on and walked over to these stones on an empty hiking trail, where you both laid down and snuggled up together, talking about each other. You two had this thing where you'd learn more tiny preferences about each other. "Umm, hostess." You said.

"Easy. Twinkies."

"I prefer those cupcakes." You said before kissing his neck gently. "I didn't know you were so vanilla."

He chuckled. "Trust me sweetheart, I ain't always so vanilla."

He tried to kiss you, but you sat up, dodging him. "Whatever you say babe. Where to next?"

"Come here." He tried to grab you, but you got off the rock. He gave you a wicked smile before getting off as well and began to chase you. You were both laughing as you did your best to run from him, but you both knew that he was better built than you. You tried running to the car and locking yourself in, but Billy shut the door and turned you around, pressing you against the car and giving you a hot kiss. "You need to stop getting me so riled up sweetheart."

"You need to stop making it so easy." You smiled.

"Car, now." There was no sort of negative connotation to his voice, only excitement.

You got in the passenger's seat. "Billy, we're not have sex in a parking lot–" He cut you off with a kiss, gently taking your bottom lip between his teeth before releasing it.

"Nobody said anything about a parking lot." You two then drove back to the forest and got into the backseat, where you both had a really fun time.

Later on he took you back to your house while you wore in his leather jacket as you got new clothes, heading for the shower. "A shower too?"

"We would have stayed out if you didn't rip my clothes." You said as you gently squeezed his shoulder while you passed by him.

"How was I supposed to know that your panties would rip?"

"And my shirt?"

Billy couldn't help but chuckle. "That was my bad."

You chuckled as well. "I'll be right out."

As Billy watched TV and waited for you to finish, Hopper walked inside. "Hey Billy. Where's y/n?"

"In the shower, sir." Billy responded. He realized that it sounded kind of bad, so he added, "She spilled soda all over herself."

Hopper nodded contently, before going over to him. "I actually wanted to talk to you." Billy nodded for him to continue. "I heard some things last night between the two of you."

Billy sat up, thinking something different. "No, I swear sir it's not what it might've sounded like–"

"I know it wasn't anything bad with the two of you." Billy nodded and relaxed. "But, um, I did hear some stuff about your family, only it was too vague. Billy, I'm the sheriff. As the sheriff I can take action over certain things. But you need to tell me so I can do something."

"Sir, I found from experience," Billy said. "That opening my mouth will only make things worse."

Before Hopper could respond to that, you came out of the bathroom. "Oh, hey Hopper. Do you want me to make you a sandwich?"

He glanced at you before looking back at Billy. "No, I can do it." He then made his lunch and left as you brushed your hair and told Billy that you were ready to go out again.

You both then went to a drive-in movie theater. "I didn't even know these were still open."

"Yup, that way I can do whatever I want to you without anyone else seeing."

He leaned in for a kiss but you pushed his face away. "Yeah, like watching the movie."

"You've been doing that a lot today sweetheart." He said as you grabbed your hand. "It's making me need you more."

You both made out passionately before Billy stroked his thumb under your shirt, causing you to pull away. "We just did it, and what if people see us?" You took his hands and put them on your waist. "I'm only meant for you." He looked at you in a daze. "Mm, I love it when you cave in."

"Fine, but get in the backseat." You didn't question him, and got out of the car and into the backseat. You saw Billy slide to the middle and pat his lap. "Climb on."

You sat on his lap, and he situated you to get comfy against him. He brushed the hair off your neck and began to kiss it tenderly. His hands went underneath your shirt and his fingers brushed over your stomach softly. "I make you happy, right?"

He stopped kissing you and turned you a bit. "What do you mean sweetheart? Course you make me happy." He gave you a smile. "Why wouldn't you think that?"

"Just wondering. I want you to be as happy as I am."

"I am." He hugged you and rested his head on your chest, where you played with his hair. "I love you. I love how you're becoming more confident in yourself."

You kissed the top of his head. "I got you to help me with that."

When you got to his house, Billy had lifted you up and you instinctively wrapped your legs around him. "Billy calm down." You giggled.

"Can't doll." He hurriedly shut the front door and put you on the kitchen counter. He immediately attached his lips to yours.

"Does anyone want to tell me what the fuck is going on here?" Neil asked as he slammed the front door.

Billy immediately backed up from you as you hopped off the counter. "I thought you'd be in Florida this weekend." Billy said weakly.

"Flight was pushed till tomorrow." He threw his car keys across the kitchen. "I leave for one second and you're slutting it up with someone that Max knows personally?"

He started to come at Billy, and you panicked. You didn't think when you pushed Neil right before he got to Billy and said, "Sleep!" He then collapsed, unconscious. Billy looked at you wide eyed. "I can explain!"

---

Tag List:

@roxytheimmortal @shane-isa-shame @actuallyazriel @tanovic54321 @chipster-21 @jula-bear @ellie2468 @sassysmiles @frozenhuntress67 @fansanctuary @homewrites @tearsforhan @waymorecake4me

[itsclydebitches]

Lovely Good Omens fandom! Many of you have asked for/mentioned having a text version of the Yelp reviews, which if I were a better person I would have remembered to include in the first place. Better late than never? So here’s a version below and I also threw this up on AO3 so there are options. For the record, I’m not at all trained in transcribing visual media, so if anyone wants to add to/edit/do whatever to this post, especially to make it more accessible, you have carte blanche to do so 👍

Also I typed this up in a hurry so, as always, apologies for any typos. 

Tagging: @lethargicdolphin, @marithlizard, @pearwaldorf

A.Z. Fell and Co. Antiquarian and Unusual Books 

Recommended Reviews 

Lindsay F. 

London, United Kingdom 

71 friends

3000 reviews

9874 photos

So I slipped into this place because I spotted my ex across the street and would have rather chugged a cocktail of bleach, lighter fluid, and a condensed solution of all my middle school years then talk to that asshole. Owner was on me the second I walked through the door and I thought he was gonna be one of those ‘Either buy something or get out’ types. Nah. I spilled the story, said I really wasn’t looking to purchase anything, and he LIT UP like nobody’s business. He gave me tea and promised I’d never run into my ex again. Which is a super sketchy promise on its own and also should have been hilarious coming from a guy a century behind in style.

...Kinda believed him though. 

Marina G. 

London, United Kingdom 

0 friends

33 reviews

48 photos

Pretty sure this guy wants a library, not a bookshop. I mean, he’s nice and all when you first come in, but trying to actually buy a book? Good fucking luck. He’s too busy to see you right now (for the record he’s super bad at pretending to be busy). Or claims that this book has already been put on reserve (then why wasn’t it in the reserve pile...?). Or the price suddenly jumped an obscene amount. Or he just straight up hems and haws until you get fed up and leave. I watched him pull a novel straight out of a woman’s hands once when she claimed that price was no object and she wouldn’t be leaving the store until she’d purchased it. You’d think she was trying to kidnap one of the guy’s kids!

So yeah. Feel like popping in to browse, maybe take pictures for your research, all while making quiet conversation with someone who quite frankly knows his stuff? This is the place for you. Want to actually buy something? Go elsewhere. Pretty sure Fell doesn’t even own a cash register. At least I’ve never seen one. 

He wants a library and I’d honestly tell him as much if he didn’t scare me just a little bit...

Aaron S. 

New York, NY

68 friends

212 reviews 

337 photos

I stayed here for three days once. Found a bathroom off the romance section and a chair hidden away in the back. Way comfier than my mattress at home. Mostly played iPhone games and kept real quiet at night. Experiment ended when I popped out for breakfast and didn’t make it back before a random 10:00am closing. Don’t think the owner ever realized what was up. 

Hana S. 

London, United Kingdom 

112 friends

115 reviews

208 photos

I really love this place. I’ve been coming here since I moved to London, about twelve years ago, and it’s one of the most soothing bookstores I’ve ever had the pleasure of visiting. Yeah, you hear talk of weird things going on at Fell’s, but really? We could all do with a bit more quirky in our lives. And Fell provides that in spades: Annual plants that never seem to wither, let alone die. The smell of incense mixing with cocoa. Strange books tucked horizontally into the shelves, feeling like they have a touch of magic to them. Nonsensical conversations taking place in dark corners (I’m talking candid chats about the apocalypse and whether angels could actually bless all the rains down in Africa. I swear Fell and his boyfriend are the religion Mythbusters or something.) I’m going to sound like a total nerd here for a moment, but it feels like some sort of liminal space. You know when you were a kid and you were just desperate to receive your Hogwarts letter? Or find your own wardrobe to Narnia? That’s what walking into Fell’s feels like. Like you’ve finally found that portal and can stay as long as you like, provided you don’t try to take anything back with you into the ‘real’ world. Hell, maybe that’s why he won’t let anyone buy his books. 

Robert T. 

Union City, CA

4 friends

26 reviews

3 photos

There’s a snake?? In this shop?? A reALLY MASSIVE SNAKE????? What are y’all doing talkin’ about your meet cutes and shit someone call pest control!

Malini D. 

London, United Kingdom 

0 friends

48 reviews

99 photos

I’m not gonna pretend I have anything to say about whether this is a good bookstore or not, but if you ever want knitting help you should definitely stop by. Mr. Fell knows an absurd amount about crafts for a guy who looks like my grandpa and he’s now replaced Youtube as my go-to for alleviating “Omg please fix this how the hell did I manage to reverse the pattern??” panic. For the record, I didn’t just wander up to a random bookseller one day and demand that he help me salvage the ruins of my first sweater. I’d taken a seat inside to wait out a storm, had my messy sleeve stuffed into my purse, and he’d offered the help. Bit of a bastard about things like gauge and color--not everyone wants to wear tartan, dude--but you get used to that. He means well. Said I should come back to show him the finished piece, which I did. Things just kind of spiraled from there. He’s an absolute treasure trove of knowledge once you get him talking and a muffin to boot. If he were twenty years younger and in any way straight I would have asked him out in a heartbeat. As it is I’m considering setting him up with Grandpa. 

Tiffany L. 

London, United Kingdom 

132 friends

312 reviews

34 photos

I’m not really a book person myself but I followed my wife in with our seventh-month old and was kinda embarrassed when he started making a fuss. Normally I’m full Badass Mom mode while in public--I’ve got a kid to feed, change, sooth, and you all can damn well deal with it--but this place was so quiet Liam seemed extra loud in comparison. I was about to take him back out when a man appeared out of nowhere. The owner I guess, based on how some of these other reviews describe him. Older gentleman with clothes out of some period piece. Anyway, he scoops Liam into his arms like he was born for it and started bouncing. Our fussy, temperamental, drama queen Liam settled in an instant and my wife got to browse to her heart’s content. I don’t know how he did it, but that man is an absolute angel. Full stars for that moment alone. 

Gillian L. 

The Hague, The Netherlands

283 friends

256 reviews

60 photos

Anyone know if the old Bentley parked out front is for sale? 

Update: It’s really, really, really not 

Billy H. 

Austen, TX

40 friends

2073 reviews

774 photos

QUEER BOOKS QUEER BOOKS QUEER BOOKS QUEER BOOKS QUEER BOOKS QUEER BOOKS QUEER BOOKS QUEER BOOKS QUEER BOOKS QUEER BOOKS QUEER BOOKS QUEER BOOKS SO MANY QUEER BOOKS!!!

Gabriela G. 

London, United Kingdom

3 friends

22 reviews

1 photos

Run by this delightfully frumpy guy who sometimes hands out biscuits from a sewing tin like my gran used to. He asked me if I was looking for anything in particular and I told him my name was Jared, I was 19, but sadly I’d never learned how to read. I have NEVER seen a man more confused in my life. 10/10 would meme him again. 

Colie A.

Enola, PA

201 friends

2778 reviews

10382 photos

I’m setting the record straight here since there are a bunch of reviews claiming it’s just London folklore: there is a snake at A.Z. Fell’s. Must be an exotic pet he usually keeps upstairs because I’ve only ever seen it twice. Is it big? Yes. Scary? Fuck yes, but I’ve never seen it do anything more than give a warning hiss at this drunk who wandered in and started yelling. (Are snakes good guard dogs? This one is.) The other time he was just chilling on top of one of the shelves. Snoozing, I guess. I asked Mr. Fell if I could pet him and he said maybe after he woke up, but then I had to get to class and all. 

Afraid of snakes? Steer clear. Otherwise I’d really recommend popping in and seeing if he’s around. Idk, maybe I’m just a snake fan but he looks super sweet and chill. Life is short. Boop the snake snoot. 

Jeremy W. 

London, United Kingdom 

86 friends

409 reviews

12 photos

I live down the street from A.Z. Fell’s and let me tell you, this place is spooky as fuck. All sorts of weird lights and noises coming from it. At all times of the day and night too. Either this bowtie wearing bookworm has one crazy sex life or the place is haunted. Jury’s out on which. 

Heather Ki. 

London, United Kingdom 

0 friends

3852 reviews

1 photos

This shop smells. Not that old book smell either, oh no, but like something is molding. I took my little Johnny in here to try and get him interested in something other than those damned video games and I walk into what smells like a whole cloud of toxic mold! My boy has a weak constitution as it is and if he comes down with anything I will be pressing charges, you mark my words. 

Jo. W. 

London, United Kingdom 

32 friends

410 reviews

61 photos

Hey, does anyone want to talk about the fact that this place burned down last month? As in, completely up in flames, I saw it happen, nothing but a smoking husk afterwards? Does no one else remember this??

Tiggi N. 

London, United Kingdom 

32 friends

33 reviews

24 photos

Has anyone read this guy’s opening hours? I included a photo above: “I open the shop on most days about 9:30AM perhaps 10:AM. While occasionally I have opened the shop as early as 8, I have been known not to open until 1.” Absolutely insane. This guy’s a madman and I love him. If anyone actually manages to get into this place please let me know because I need to shake Fell’s hand. 

Mackenzie J. 

City Centre, Manchester, United Kingdom 

807 friends

2592 reviews

13218 photos

I told my girlfriend this shop’s got a snake named Anthony and she didn’t believe me. Going back for proof next week. 

Update: got the snake selfie!!!!!!!!

Penny O. 

Chicago, IL

87 friends

557 reviews

16 photos

Caught the owner snogging some hot twink behind the cookbooks. Well done, my dude. 

[prettyboiiharringrove]

Harringrove AU // Steve && Billy watch Queer Eye

i try and make one headcanon and then this shit happens 

I HAVE NO SELF CONTROL

So for the sake of this it’s a modern au because I want like early twenties billy and steve

Okay but we need to talk about like queer eye is a seriously emotional show, and when it comes to being a queer person watching the show like it fucking hits you hard no matter the circumstances

So imagine being billy. Constantly thrown around, beat, spit on by his own fucking father just because he happened to be attracted to men. 

Growing up and not being allowed to show your feelings, so being a robot with the idea of fucking respect hammered into your head and then only knowing how to get your emotions out through fucking explosive outbursts

And then fast forward to meeting steve and them reconciling and getting the fuck out of Hawkins

And they’re in their own little crappy apartment in cali but billy and steve fucking love it, it’s tiny and they’ve got weird neighbors and you’ve got to call the maintenance guy like six times before he even answers but it’s theirs and no one is going to take it away from them

And billy is happy with steve, happy to hold his hand and call him his boyfriend, but the whole like pride thing is hard for him because what does he have to be proud of? Like sure he’s gay and maybe that’s not horrible but neil fucking Hargrove is still sitting in the back of his head so like he’s trying but he’s not all ‘rainbow happy’ (billy’s words) like steve is

It’s like three years before he can even get billy to go to anything gay pride related but billy does and he loves it because for the first time he feels completely safe in a room. He’d only ever felt that with steve

But billy still lives in his head most days, “it’s fine that we’re gay but can we not show it off”

Most of the time anything queer related that comes up he watches to humor steve because he figures it means something to steve, so they go through the fucking gay section on Netflix, and he lets him put a fucking rainbow bumper sticker on the car but some days billy still doesn’t know how to face being a big old homo and the only reason he’s okay with it is because he could never see anything wrong with loving steve. One look at steve and he’s at peace, because it’s legit impossible not to fall in love with steve Harrington, fucking asshole

So he plops down in the couch, his hair wrapped up in a towel, another towel on his waist, and he ignores steve groaning when he sits on the couch and gets it all wet, ignores steve bitching over billy stealing his nachos and says “what’re we watching?”

And steve says queer eye and billy just rolls his eyes and grumbles. And steve pauses it and is just like “the fuck is your problem?” and billy is like “I get it stevie, like we’re here we’re fucking queer, can we fucking move on?” and in the past steve would have started a fight because billy is being an asshole but over the years he’s learned that billy is just being a shit because it’s one of those fucking days, so instead steve scoots closer to him, shoves more nacho’s in his boyfriend’s mouth and says “just give it a chance asshole”

And let me tell you what starts out as billy making comments about how hot they are progresses into “fuck off harrington, you couldn’t be tan if you tried, you’re a total bobby. Jesus fucking Christ, accept it, this is like golden girls all over again!” “fuck off I’m blanche and you know it!” “you are rose, you fucking dumbass”

and then billy is constantly crying and steve only points it out three times, he knows because his shoulder is bruised in three different places, before he learns to just shut the fuck up and play the next episode

“baby why are you crying?” “I’m not, fuck off Harrington” “you just watched karamo propose, didn’t you?” “…no?”

speaking of karamo, they start buying so many bomber jackets, like they start to outnumber the amount of denim billy has in the closet it’s become that much of a thing

“steve if you put another facemask on me I swear to god I’m not fucking you for a year” “you know that music video they did?” “how the fuck is that relevant?” “well you haven’t seen it right? I figured we could watch it” “okay and?” “Antoni wears a crop top in it. I’ll be getting dick in like twenty minutes” “just give me the fucking face mask”

“I just got called ‘the avocado guy’s boyfriend’ trying to buy lube. You need to stop” “name one antoni inspired snack I have made that you didn’t like and I’ll stop” “I hate you” “That’s what I thought”

Steve rearranges the furniture constantly. They’ve had new curtains at least three times in the last month. “We can’t afford all this shit you keep getting, pick a design and stick to it” “calm down I know a guy” “jesus Christ Harrington, people say that about their drug dealer, not some guy who gives you fake plants and crystal paperweights” “You said I’m bobby, so let me be bobby”

“you said you wanted more shampoo right? what kind?...no steve they don’t have that kind...yes i fucking know, no sulfates...stop bringing jvn into this i knew no sulfates before that...yes i did...pretty boy we got tied for best hair in our high school yearbook, i’m surprised you didn’t know the no sulfates rule...no, you’re full of shit...oh fuck you and you’re fancy hair, wash it with dish soap for all i care...i am not apologizing!!...fuck you steve...yeah i love you too...OH MY GOD YES, NO SULFATES GOODBYE STEVE”

okay take us to season two coming out alright, and they promised each other they wouldn’t watch it without the other but billy is an impatient child and he was totally gonna play the “you watched the first couple episodes without me, we’ll just rewatch them calm down babe” card, flutter his fucking eyelashes

but then steve comes home to billy with his knees pulled to his chest crying, with the show paused on lil antoni’s face (my angel watching my angel) and he’s going to make a comment about billy being a little shit but then he realizes this is big

like this is billy is shaking and crying so hard he can’t breathe big so he sits down next to him, freaking manhandles billy into his lap and just tries to calm him down and when billy starts breathing normal steve is like “baby what happened, talk to me?”

billy has been having a bad week, max called him bitching about some crappy thing neil said not realizing how much it would fuck with billy’s head, that was Tuesday, it’s Friday, and steve knows that he still doesn’t feel better. He knew that billy crying was somehow connected to that too but he wasn’t sure what he’d missed.

“it’s stupid” is all billy says before hiding his face in steve’s chest again and honestly steve’s wasn’t surprised because billy gets like that and it sucks but he deals with it. 

He rewinds the show just a little, hoping that maybe that could help put some pieces together because what else is he supposed to do when he’s got a lap full of distressed billy Hargrove and Netflix as his only clue?

[Antoni] she thought her faith told her to judge somebody who’s gay. But she chose to see past that, and she saw the individual. She saw the person that her son is and she changed her mind. She says that it was a religious experience, but she made that choice. Not all parents do that.

Steve froze. fuck. his poor baby

She saw the person that her son is and she changed her mind.

Not all parents do that.

Their parents didn’t do that. Neil Hargrove didn’t do that. He let his hate determine his relationship with his son rather than let his son affect how he looked at the world. 

Neil didn’t love Billy and seeing a mother that put away her prejudice to love her son could be comforting, or it could make the sting of things like Neil hurt even more.

“aw baby” “told you, it’s stupid” “honey it’s not stupid, that’s not stupid at all”

Billy and Steve stay curled up like that for awhile, until billy stops shaking and the tears stop spilling and he’s exhausted. “come on, let’s get you to bed, we can watch this later” “no, wanna finish it.” “you sure?” “yeah, she’s nice, wanna see her happily ever after or whatever” “alright but new rule” “oh, and what’s that king steve?” “you’re not allowed to watch it without me anymore” “thought that was already a rule” “it is, but you’re a fucking brat so I’m just letting you know I mean it”

billy loves steve for making things playful instead of dragging out what had happened. they both knew billy was hurting, they knew why, and they also knew billy was not in a place to talk about it so steve held him, billy cried some more, they watched one more episode, and then they went to sleep in their bed in their room in their apartment where neil hargrove could never hurt billy again

Steve doesn’t point out that billy has gotten a lot better about expressing his feelings after watching queer eye. Casually mentions that the show means a lot to different people, a subtle hint that it’s okay to care that much without calling billy out for it

Also imagine the boys meeting the fab 5

billy thinks he’d be so cool with the guys but if he ever met the fab five he would cry so fucking hard and cling to steve shyly and billy is in a crop top and combat boots and he doesn’t realize that he’s clinging to steve until he feels steve squeeze his hip and “you look so hot today” “don’t worry, I used the waterproof mascara on you” all the reassurance and praise

he thanks them like a lot and blushes and it’s so precious billy is not a tough boii he is a shy boii

steve is a confident protective proud boyfriend he will show off his boyfriend and casually chat while giving billy time to calm down

omg but billy feeling more confident because of the boys so like he lets steve play around with makeup on him and do fancy stuff with his hair and like I said he wears crop tops omg matching crop tops crop top boyfriends

“you better French tuck that shirt or put on a different one” “steve when I said I liked it when you got bossy this is not what I meant” “WWTD” “I know I know, what would tan do? Speaking of, change your fucking shoes”

[fandompitfalls]

Dumping the whole pot of tea on The Irregulars.

Originally posted: 4/9/2021

Two weeks ago, I offered to write a post for my Scion’s blog on the Irregulars before I had even seen the show.  While I try to follow Paul Thomas Miller’s belief that “All Holmes are good Holmes” (not gonna lie, I fail sometimes, yes Ferrell, I’m looking at you), this show caught my interest because I’m a fan of Gaiman’s A Study in Emerald and I am a horror nerd, so it had me at “rift”. I expected to like it.

What I did not expect was to love it as much as I do and to have so many thoughts about it.  Thoughts, feeling, surprising revelations and low-key frustration about things regarding this show and the fandom.  There was tea that needed to be spilled and I couldn’t do that in a BSI related blog post.  But this is my blog, nobody really reads it anyway so I’m dumping the whole damn tea pot onto the table and we’re doing this.

This is your spoiler warning:  Below be monsters.  You were warned.

If you’re still here then you’re either interested, got sent this as a “look what this bitch wrote”, or you really want to see the tea.  I’ve got words, so many that they’re going to be split out in categories. So sit back, I’m sure I’ll insult everyone by the time I’m finished.

Family

This show is about family.  End stop.  Not the family you’re born into but the family you find.  The Irregulars are a found family.  The first set of Irregulars; Sherlock Holmes, John Watson, and Alice…whatever her last name was. They were close friends and tried to be a family in their own way, until anger, jealousy, resentment got in between that and shattered it leaving everyone left guilt ridden and resentful.  The second set of Irregulars: Bea, Jessie, Spike, Billy and Leo (yes, I’m counting him, he damn well earned his right into this family) are absolutely a found family.  They came together in the workhouse and a bond forged of mutual survival, protection and love was created. A bond that remained firm long after they all escaped and went out on their own. Even in episode six when there is doubt cast along everyone and Leo’s true identity is discovered, feelings are hurt, betrayal is strong and everyone goes their own way for a time, that bond is still there and is plainly shown in episode seven when the group is able to use that familial bond they’ve created and now strengthened to pull Jessie out of the nightmare world that the Linen Man has cast her into. It’s the bond that Jessie uses to convince Bea that sending the mother they both desperately wanted back into the rift was the right thing to do. It’s the bond that keep Leo, Spike and Billy willing to fight against the monsters to the death to protect their home and the victims they’ve rescued, not knowing that Bea and Jessie would close the rift but believing that they would.

Drugs

It was mentioned, even in the trailers and the summary for this series that Sherlock Holmes is drugged.  And yes, in fact for a good majority of the series, Sherlock Holmes is strung out on opium or cocaine.  It’s not the pretty strung out like scruffy hot Benedict Cumberbatch or the effervescent smoothness of Jeremy Brett.  Henry Lloyd-Hughes shows us the dark side of prolonged addiction; head shaven, stumbling around in filthy rags, vomiting over the side of the bed, pissing on the nightstand, wild with withdrawal symptoms. When Bea asks their mutual landlady, Mrs. Hudson about Sherlock, she calls him a drug addict and a bum. In episode four when Bea is in a race with Watson to see who can find Sherlock first, she is assisted in the Opium Den by one of the addicts who tells her “Just because we’re users doesn’t mean we’re bastards. Everyone down here is trying to numb the pain of something, grief, heartbreak, life in general.” The line resonates because while this is happening, the episode is juxtaposition Bea’s trips into the bowels of opium dens looking for an addict with the Palace where Leo is attending a party for the elite.  There he meets Eleanor Morgot who is obviously attracted to his title and position.  Later, on a balcony, she offers him a drug telling him he needs to loosen up.  Leo, high on…a tablet version of opium perhaps, we’re shown his trip in a dream-like quality. A far cry from a bedridden Sherlock on the floor scrambling for the few pieces of what he thinks is opium rather than sugar.  The use of drugs amongst the wealthy doesn’t seem to hold the same distain and disgust as it does in the bowels of London.  Which is an interesting play on society, not only in the time period in the show but even now.  Why is it cool and trendy to see the rich and famous snorting coke off a glass table using dollar bills or popping tablets, yet when Bob in the neighborhood is discovered to be using heroin, he is suddenly the social pariah.  Society’s view of drug use is defined on a scale of wealth and prestige. Sherlock Holmes, caught in the middle of this, his prestige holding at bay much of society’s distain, as seen in episode seven when Gregson doesn’t even blink when Holmes walks in to Scotland Yard wearing a filthy, ripped shirt and a green coat.

Mirrors and parallels

Let’s discuss mirrors and parallels together because I’m going to be going back and forth on these.  And we’re starting with the huge one, the Irregulars vs the Irregulars- it’s all fun and games until the monsters become more dangerous and someone goes through a rift. I’m talking about Alice, Sherlock and John mirrored in Leo, Bea and Billy.  My thoughts on John Watson will have their own section so I won’t get into much of them here, but by episode three, I could see where this was going.  Bea, who hadn’t really had any sort of attraction to anyone, finds herself attracted to Leo.  Billy, who has secretly loved Bea as more than an arrant sister for possibly years, suddenly has competition in this well-spoken newcomer and is forced to watch as Bea and Leo grow closer. On the other side, as we learn in episode five, Sherlock and Watson are riding high on their success as consultants to Scotland Yard when Alice arrives, and suddenly Watson has competition for Holmes’ affection and is forced to watch as Sherlock and Alice grow closer. How Billy deals with it throughout the final few episodes and how we see Watson deal with it are in no way mirrored to each other. While resentment and jealousy do grow in these two characters, it is Billy who realizes first that Bea is a person with her own thoughts and feelings, and she’s allowed to like whomever she wants.  Did it hurt him? Hell yes, the clueless idiot took out his frustration with not only trying and failing to make Bea jealous, but getting into fights including with Leo. But hating Bea and hating Leo for something nobody can control is pointless and by the end of the story, Billy chooses his family, willing to sacrifice and standing beside Leo in the end. Watson, on the other hand, doesn’t come to this realization until he experiences the losses and guilt of his choices and sees them played out once again in the next generation.  His frustration and jealousy festered for almost two decades before he was faced with the realization that nothing would have changed and only then, did he begin to let go, both figuratively and literally.

Speaking of Watson and Bea, the parallels between their two characters run true through the first episode- starting with their first meeting and ending at their last. Loyalty, stubbornness, anger, frustration with their lot in life, the anguish of people leaving them, all of it plays out between these two in blinding contrast and none so much as the theme of forbidden love.   The same characteristics that makes Bea such an expansive and intriguing character are also with Watson, just hidden under layers of resentment and guilt. The scene in episode four when Watson comes around the corner and sees Sherlock and Alice kissing and realizes he is never going to have the one thing he truly wants paralleled with the scene in episode eight where Leo tells Bea that he sacrificed his freedom for Billy’s release. He was going back to the palace and marrying someone names Helena.  Bea realizes in that moment that she will never have the one thing she truly wanted. There’s a scene between Watson and Bea when they’re hiding out in a closet in an Opium Den waiting for security to go past them.  He looks at her and says, “ It amuses me to think you can best me, I am better educated, wealthier and stronger than you are, tell me , what ability is it that you think you have that I don’t possess in greater abundance?” And while that may be true; John Watson is a man of means, ex-Army, particular friend of Sherlock Holmes and a doctor, he has forgotten what made him that way in the beginning. Everything he was, everything he is, that is covered under layers of bitterness, he sees either consciously or unconsciously in Bea. This is what highlights the final scene between Bea and Watson, when she breaks down and while it’s not proper to touch, he does so anyway because he understands.  “Everyone leaves me” - “I won’t” Realization and acceptance and shared grief makes this scene extremely powerful.

Finally, let’s talk about John Watson

I’m going to be honest, I made it through the first six episodes with plans to make buttons that said, ‘John Watson is a petty jealous bitch’, because damn. And before anyone comes at me with the idea that I don’t understand and of course John had the right to be upset or worse yet, heteronormativity (although, honestly, the lack of Alice hate is either shocking or I’m not in the right places), let me say that yes, I understand, but watching Billy take a angry visible step back from Bea and Leo juxtaposed with John attempting to open a rift so he can keep Sherlock in town and then making the obvious choice to ignore Sherlock’s plea for help when it came to saving Alice.  A choice that he had to make again with Alice’s daughter Jessie.  Watching John in the first six episodes all the signs are there, the old married couple, where John is shouting out the window at an escaping Sherlock that he doesn’t even want to see him again to the vicious way he comes after Bea when she discovers who he truly is.  Hell, we as the viewers don’t even see Sherlock and John in the same scenes together outside of the flashback until episode seven. This is how we see John Watson because up until then, this is how Bea sees John Watson. They’re told by Mycroft Holmes, the Linen Man, hell even by Sherlock Holmes through his story that John Watson is the wart on this story, he is the danger, he is the reason this is happening again.

Episode seven though, is where Royce Pierreson shines as John Watson. Because episode seven and eight takes a man that is universally hated by everyone in the series and flips it to a man who is trapped by society, rules, honor, duty, and his own self-loathing who tried to keep things as they were only managing to ruin things completely.  He turns from a cruel example of classism to a sympathetic character, a man who’s trying to do things right, who wants to fix what he did.  By episode eight, I was not only love John Watson as a character, but I was sympathetic to his situation.  His attempts at denial and rationalization in episode seven that finally culminated in the first time he ever spoke the words aloud “I love him” was just…damn, rip my heart out Royce and stomp on it because you’ve got me. From that moment on, all thoughts of buttons were gone from my head and I was, possibly for the first time, firmly in the John Watson Appreciation Society.  Royce never says a word during the scene when Alice returns and Sherlock is overcome with emotions, but you can just see in his eyes the dagger slowly piercing his heart and how he is silent, allowing the sisters and Sherlock to have their moment with Alice.  Even when Jessie begins to close the rift and Alice returns to Purgatory, he remains still, finally moving when Sherlock looks at him and utters those first self-aware words he might have spoken the entire series “You’ve been a better friend to me than I deserved John”.  And when he is once again faced with saving the man he loves or a woman that Sherlock loves, he finally lets go, making the choice to help Bea save Jessie and letting Sherlock step into the rift to be with Alice.  It’s a painful scene and it’s what makes the final scene mentioned earlier between he and Bea even more powerful.  She looked at him as asks, “How do you stop loving someone?” and his reply with “You don’t.” Just. Heart wrenching.

I have never shipped Johnlock in any of the series, but congratulations Royce Pierreson, you’ve got me shipping Johnlock.  Not only Johnlock but canon Johnlock.  It might be unrequited (maybe, there was a hint of subtext and there’s always Season two) but it’s canon.

Which leads me to the important question and one in which I will dump out the remainder of my tea: I checked Twitter and social media the weekend The Irregulars came out. I never heard a peep about this.  There is a show out there, with Holmes and Watson, that is set in Victorian London (monsters and cross-dimensional rifts notwithstanding) where the showrunner has explicitly given canon Johnlock and I haven’t heard a peep about it?  Why is that?  I have my theories, but I really hope they aren’t true because it just gives credence to long held theories. I’m hoping that I’m just maybe not in the right groups, but my social media feed is vast enough that something would have eked through but all I hear are crickets.

It seems my teapot is empty.  Anyway, let me hear your thoughts. Preferably here.  Like I said, I’m not a popular blog so I’ll be surprised if this one picks up traction. But hey, come and talk.

You have different theories?  Wonder why I didn’t speak on something that you saw? Find yourself personally insulted by something I wrote? Want to celebrate my list of favorite John Watsons going up to five?  Let’s brew a fresh pot of tea and discuss it.

[cutiesonthehorizon]

Exorcist fic - The Price of Vision part 9

You can find the newest chapter of The Price of Vision under the cut, on AO3 or fanfiction.net. As always, thanks to all who reviewed and commented and specially to @starrylizard for her help with a quick beta. All mistakes left are my own. This part will have a bit more scenes taken straight from the show, I hope you won’t mind, but I wanted to add just a little something to them.

Hope you’ll enjoy and let me know your thoughts:)

 The night wasn't very kind to either of the men, their minds too disturbed by what happened on the island and the possibility that instead of helping Harper find a new home, they just put her into a more dangerous situation. The pleasant buzz Marcus felt from the beer whilst they were waiting for the ferry was long gone. What was left was a bitter taste in his mouth, a low key headache and a feeling that things were spiraling into some catastrophe. He lay down thinking about God, still trying to hear his voice but coming up empty. He wondered if he fell out of God's grace when he failed to see that the demon in Casey Rance wasn't really gone, when he dared to think it was that easy. Was it pride that was his downfall?

 No, Marcus thought, turning his head on the pillow. Pride wasn't his problem, not for a long time now. He’d been brought down on his knees too many times for that and after Mexico... any pride he could have felt was gone. So what was it? Did killing a man in front of the Pope bring on God's disappointment in Marcus? Was it drinking? Was it lust?

 None of those sounded right and maybe, just maybe, it wasn't God that lost faith in Marcus, but the other way around. Ever since his excommunication, Marcus felt empty, abandoned, cast out. Just like that child over forty years ago that was shown into boys home because he happened to kill his own father in self-defense. The child no one wanted to get close to, because he spilled blood at the tender age of seven. Killing seemed to be in his blood and, in those early days, Marcus often found himself running, hiding in tall trees as other children pelted him with rocks, shouting obscenities that cut deeper than any knife could.

 'Like father, like son!' Marcus still remembered hearing the director of the boys home say to the nurse who was tending to his scraped knuckles after he grew weary of running and finally repaid Billy with a punch of his own. That was the night he first touched a blade to his skin... not because he was scared of the others. Never of the others. No. That night, Marcus was scared of himself, of what he could become. It took almost five years until he stopped being scared of himself... it took him standing face to face with a demon, the bible and flickering candle the only thing separating him from pure evil. That's when he heard the voice, when he felt the warmth enveloping his whole body, and realized he would never again be alone because God was there with him.

 All those years, all those lonely days spent on the road in different motel rooms, leaving behind people he never allowed himself to get close in the first place, not after what happened to his little church mouse. After her, Marcus swore never to be that reckless again. It was a lonely life, but he still heard God's voice, felt his light coursing through him and knew he had purpose. What more can a man crave for, other than purpose?

 Until Gabriel. That was the moment Marcus started doubting. And it was Marcus, not God, who seemed to hold onto that doubt, hold onto the anger about the injustice of it all. But despite it all, Marcus believed and, even though he and God weren't on speaking terms, the warmth and light was there.

 And when one day a young priest from Chicago stepped into his room, that warmth and light shone so bright that Marcus screamed in anger. How was this fair? Eighteen months he was trying to reclaim his purpose, to find his path and trust in God. Eighteen months... and then he was sent a priest that didn't even believe in demons, yet he had the 'gift'.

 Marcus was angry then and it took him some time to accept that Tomas was sent his way for a reason. Saving Casey Rance and the Pope seemed to be reason enough... but then Tomas asked him to stay, to be his mentor. And Marcus felt some of the walls inside him crumbling, being replaced by hope. He felt needed and wanted and it was almost as good a feeling as when he sent his first demon back into the pits of hell.

 But where did all of this leave him now? He lost his collar... he lost his identity, the only thing he’d known since childhood. The excommunication felt like being stabbed in the stomach with a fiery knife and not even six months and hundreds of miles later did that feeling vanish.

 And today on the island, Peter brought up the question, the one Marcus feared the most. What was he now that he wasn't a priest? He didn't know. He was just an old guy with a bible and a rosary, 40 years of experience he was trying to teach Tomas, hoping that he would manage that before the younger man got himself or someone else killed. The way things were going, Marcus either needed to speed up his mentoring or hope that Tomas really was God's new chosen favorite and that the Almighty won't let any harm come to him. First step for that would be to let him go through the night without any heart stopping nightmares and visions.

 Marcus opened his eyes to a slit and looked at the unmoving form lying in the bed next to him. For once it seemed that Marcus' prayers were heard. Tomas looked to be asleep, snoring ever so softly. Marcus wished he could do the same, turn off his brain and just tune out, but it was impossible. There was so much to do in the morning and all they could go on was Tomas' vision and animals acting strangely. They knew nothing about the history of the island and Marcus was thinking about hitting the library first thing in the morning, then almost snorted. He wasn't really the type to sit around reading books and anyway, talking to people was his favorite past time. At least to some people... and the Fish and Wildlife bloke seemed more than willing to talk. Maybe he could ask around on the island, while Tomas could try and get them an invitation for a chat with Andy and the kids. With at least a partial plan formed in his mind, Marcus turned over in bed and willed himself to sleep, a soft prayer flowing from his lips.

 'Lead me to your still streams, O Lord, where I can kneel in the waters of life. Lay down my anxious thoughts and cast all my cares on You. Here I will wait a while, wait a while, and bathe in the life-giving waters...'

 The words were familiar and comforting, like being enveloped in a blanket. Marcus fell asleep before he even finished.

   When Tomas opened his eyes, skin damp from sweat and the heart beating wildly in his chest, it was still dark outside. Letting out a shaky breath, Tomas sat up on the bed and looked to his left, only to see that Marcus was sleeping, head half buried under a pillow and one of his legs sticking off the bed, as if he was trying to walk away in his sleep. Tomas swallowed, grimacing at the strange taste in his mouth. He was parched and at the same felt like his stomach was full of water, his chest burning as if he held his breath for too long. Tomas felt slight panic and reached towards Marcus, but paused mid motion. This was stupid. It was just a dream, nothing else. A dream he couldn't even remember anymore....

 Tomas shook his head. No, he already kept Marcus awake the night before, and there was no reason to trouble him with something that was just Tomas' imagination. Shuddering, Tomas tried to ignore the crawling feeling of something slick touching his skin. He needed to clear his head.

 Getting out of bed, Tomas checked the time and was surprised to see it was already five in the morning. That was the time he usually went for a run in Chicago, but nowadays he had other priorities... like exorcising demons or getting some much needed sleep. But just the thought of getting back into bed and closing his eyes made Tomas' breath hitch. He shot one more look at Marcus, making sure the older man was really sleeping, then he grabbed the bag with his clothes and vanished in the bathroom to quickly change into his running attire. When he left the motel room and the cold morning air hit his lungs, Tomas silently thanked God for the relief that flooded his body. He needed this, to run and put all thoughts behind... put all the visions behind, at least for an hour.

 When he returned to their motel, the sun was already coming up and the lump on the bed that was supposed to be Marcus squirmed when the front door clicked close.

 "If you didn't bring coffee, you can just turn back," Marcus grumbled from beneath the blanket and Tomas put a cup of steaming hot coffee on his bedside table with a smirk. It took Marcus a moment to smell the aroma and to peek an eye open. He sat up in his bed, grabbing the coffee and taking a sip, then he sniffed the air and grimaced.

 "That's just gross," he stated, giving Tomas a look.

 Tomas frowned, puzzled.

 "It's the same coffee you drank the last three days. What's the problem?"

 "The coffee's okay, but you smell like a locker room after a playoff."

 Tomas took a whiff of air and had to admit that he might've overdone it a bit with the run.

 "I thought the doc told you no heavy exercise for at least a week," Marcus reprimanded him and Tomas rolled his eyes.

 "I'm fine... and I needed the run. Had to clear my head before we go back there."

 "Right, ‘cause getting exhausted before actual work is such a good idea."

 "Running isn't exhausting. You would know that if you ever tried," Tomas said and went looking for some clean clothes.

 "I run only when someone's chasing me, just like any sane human being," Marcus retorted. Tomas snorted.

 "Now go, shower, before your stink ruins my coffee."

 "Next time, I'm getting you tea... one of those cheap ones from the vending machine you love so much," Tomas teased, then headed for the shower.

 "Blasphemy," Marcus muttered under his breath. "This is another test, isn't it?" he asked, looking up at the ceiling. There was no answer, but Marcus didn't really expect one anyway. The day was just starting and the strong coffee helped, clearing the cobwebs in his mind. Outside, the sun was shining and it promised to be a beautiful day. Marcus was pretty sure it wouldn't last.

  They left the truck in the car park and caught the next ferry heading for the island. They didn't really have a plan, except for trying to find out more information about the history of the island or the Kim's house. If there was really a demon, as Tomas' vision and the strange behavior of animals hinted, it most likely already took its victims before their arrival.

 "Do you think it is wise to split up?" Tomas asked, earning a raised eyebrow from Marcus.

 "I would've thought you would enjoy taking a break from my charming self," Marcus joked, but gave Tomas a thoughtful look. He was expecting Tomas to give him a scalding retort, or at least an easy smirk. Instead, Tomas leaned against the railing of the boat and looked at the water below.

 "What, no witty comeback?" Marcus stepped up next to Tomas and leaned against the railing too, their elbows touching. Tomas shook his head, but managed to give him a lopsided grin.

 "I think I'm still just a bit.... thrown, by those handprints. The meaning of them..." Tomas grimaced, the worry clear on his face. Marcus instinctively reached up and gave the nape of his neck a gentle squeeze.

 “Don't," Marcus said and his hand slid away with a final pat on Tomas' back.

 "What?"

 "Don't try to figure it out, Tomas. The more you think about these visions... the easier you make it for the demons to slip in along. If it was God's plan, you won't understand until it's time, anyway. And if it wasn't Him... the less time spent pondering, the better."

 Tomas looked at Marcus, surprised that he even admitted the possibility of the visions coming from God. He wanted to say that he's careful, that he won't let any demon slip into his mind without invitation, but he knew it would be a lie. He might be able to refuse demons access to his mind when they are face to face during an exorcism, but he had no control over the visions or over his dreams. That scared him more than he was ready to admit, especially after what happened with Harper. There were moments when his body and mind weren't his own and, even though he didn't want to admit it out loud, Tomas begun to realize that Marcus could've been right since the beginning.

 Pushing away from the railing, Tomas gave a small nod, then heeding Marcus' advice, changed the topic.

 "Are you sure I'm the right one to try and persuade Rose? After all, you're the charming one," Tomas smirked and Marcus rolled his eyes.

 "We might've had a bit of a rocky start with Rose. I think your collar combined with that kicked puppy look might be of better service in this case."

 Tomas snorted and shook his head.

 "You and a rocky start? Hard to imagine." Tomas remembered their first meeting when Marcus practically pushed him against the wall within the first two minutes. The second one wasn't much better with the ex-priest breaking into his apartment, but despite all of that, Tomas knew since the first moment that he could trust this man, that he needed him. And even though Marcus might've doubted the first vision that brought them together, Tomas was sure that wasn't the work of any demon.

 They’d reached the island and, as the boat docked in the port, any amusement Tomas felt was lost when he once again stepped onto the pier. The gust of wind brought warning whispers that made his skin turn up in goose bumps, but Tomas wasn't ready to let it deter him. Just the idea of leaving the island, of leaving Harper and the other kids in danger, made his steps more determined.

 "What will you be doing while I try to convince Rose about needing our help?"

 Marcus shrugged.

 "Yesterday I met up with some locals. I'll try to ask around about the history of the island, see if there were any bloody tragedies. Anything that could be a sign of demonic possession in the past. You have the motel keys, I'm keeping the car keys. If you finish before me, take a cab or wait by the car, but I don't want you behind the wheel when your mind is being used as a bloody signal receiver."

 Tomas wanted to protest that, but in the end he just gave Marcus a frustrated frown.

 “You just don't want me messing with the seat, admit it."

 Marcus shrugged.

 "Not my fault you have shorter legs," Marcus smirked and popped a candy into his mouth. "Let me know when you finish with Rose. And don't do anything I wouldn't do."

 "Oh, so I am allowed to pick locks now? Good to know," Tomas grinned and nodded at Marcus as their ways parted.

  The visit with Rose didn't go exactly according to plan and Tomas was wondering if he should've pressed more or, on the contrary, tried to talk his way around the issue. But he was never that good at lying and subtlety could take him only to a point.

 There was something in the house, Tomas felt it when he was sitting in the kitchen, trying to convince Rose to let him talk with the kids. It was a presence, a dark one. He heard whispers, felt as if something cold and dark reached through the walls and touched the base of his skull. Tomas had to force himself to stay in his seat and put on a smile instead of showing the fear that was gripping his insides. He was about to call Marcus and tell him they would have to try again, together and maybe with a different approach, that he wasn't ready to give up, when his cell phone started ringing. Tomas looked at the caller ID, then realized it was useless. They changed numbers so often, the only person that could be calling was Marcus.

 "Are you still at the Kim's house?" Marcus asked without a preamble and Tomas grimaced, knowing he would have to admit his latest failure.

 "No, I'm on my way back. I spoke with Rose, but...."

 "Let me guess. She doesn't think us snooping around is a good idea?" Marcus didn't seem surprised and Tomas felt some relief as well as annoyance.

 "No, she doesn't. And you knew she wouldn't be so easy to convince, right?"

 Marcus had the good grace not to chuckle, but Tomas could just imagine the smirk on his face.

 "You know you could've just asked if you wanted to take a break from me for a few hours," Tomas said, feeling the annoyance creeping in, especially when he remembered the presence lurking at the house. "This is no joke, Marcus. There is something wrong in that house."

 "I know that, Tomas." Marcus voice turned serious and Tomas slowed down his steps, frowning.

 "You found something?"

 "Something, yeah." Marcus told him about the story of Glen Powell and his daughter, about the massacre that happened fifty years ago.

 "Could the demon still be here, fifty years later?" Tomas wondered. Could demons lie dormant or were they feeding off some poor innocent visitors, lost in the woods?

 "I don't know. Not in my experience," Marcus answered the question.

 "I should go back and try again with the Kim family."

 "And tell them what? That fifty years ago a demon killed a family on the island? Look, your visions brought us here, I believe you. But we need confirmation."

 Even though hearing those words from Marcus should've made Tomas happy, all he could think about were the kids and the darkness lurking inside the house. While the demon might've laid dormant for fifty years, it has definitely awoken... and was more hungry than ever. Tomas could feel it, his skin prickling even now. Of course Marcus didn't know that, couldn't feel the imminent danger.

 "We will go together, in the daylight. Tomorrow."

 "What if they're in danger? What if we can help them?" Tomas needed to convince Marcus. He wasn't willing to wait another day and leave the kids in danger.

 "We go pounding on their door in the middle of the night, with some crazy ass story, we're gonna scare them off for good. Are we clear?"

 Tomas stopped, biting at his lip, knowing well that the next thing coming out his mouth would be a lie.

 "Clear," he said and before Marcus could add anything else, he ended the call, not even noticing the warning beep of the phone's dying battery. His thoughts were elsewhere.

 Marcus might've been set on waiting, but Tomas didn't need a confirmation. He felt the evil from the moment he stepped on the island and there was definitely a presence in the house. Tomas didn't think he was the one to wake it up, but their presence quite possibly sped up some things and Tomas was afraid that the children might be in imminent danger. There was no way he would just walk away now and hope that nothing bad happened during the night.

 Tomas put the phone away and resolutely turned around. He knew that Marcus would be pissed and that this would just be another disappointment, another failure of his to become a proper exorcist. But right now, Tomas didn't care. The house was calling to him, the woods around him were whispering a warning. His steps quickened, as if he was trying to make it there before the sun settled.

   Despite his earlier joking about lock picking, when he arrived to the house Tomas found the front door unlocked. He felt it strange until he realized that this wasn't an apartment in Chicago, but a house hidden in the middle of the woods on a small island.

 Tomas stepped through the door, feeling more like a thief than a priest. He turned on the lights and felt a sudden chill, even as he called out Rose's name. The only answer he got was the lights turning off and Tomas knew that Andy didn't need to lock his doors. Something was inside the house, something much more dangerous than a rabid guard dog.

 As the last of the lights flickered out, an unearthly growl shook through the house. His feet turned to stone and even if he'd wanted to run, he couldn't.

 Tomas closed his eyes, cold sweat running down his spine as he muttered a prayer for protection in Spanish. He jerked when his ears caught the sound of laughter. Swallowing down his fear, Tomas fumbled in his bag for the flashlight. Mustering up all the courage he could, he followed the sounds, determined not to let himself be scared off. Determined to find some answers.

   When things started moving of their own accord, Tomas knew he should've just turned around and left. There was no heroism in staying and letting himself be killed. And for a second his feet moved in the right direction, but then there was the feeling that things would get out of hand. The darkness was growing around him, reaching out into the nearby forest and he knew the children weren't safe, not even there.

 So Tomas swallowed his fear and persevered, walking into the attic as if it didn't stink of rot and death. There was food on the floor and months old dust, but all Tomas saw was the painting and all he heard was a dull banging sound that shook the house. Tomas opened his bible.

 "In the name of God, the Father Everlasting and all of His saints," he started and the house shook stronger. "I order you to show yourself and make your presence known!" It was like an earthquake and Tomas instinctively turned his prayers to Spanish. The paintings started dancing on the walls and Tomas had to fight the gravity as the floor seemingly tried to vanish under his legs, even as he shouted "He commands you!"

 Suddenly, time seemed to slow down and Tomas' eyes went wide in horror and fascination. Everything around him raised in the air, as if held by some invisible force, floating tauntingly, showing Tomas the power that made this house its home. Then as suddenly as it started, gravity took back its hold and everything fell down to the floor. The only evidence that it wasn't all just Tomas' imagination, the settling dust visible in the beam of his flashlight.

 Somewhere in the woods, the demon just released its hold on Truck. While the deed was far from done, there was a pesky priest inside its home, rummaging through things that didn't belong to him, trying to find a way to defeat him. The demon roared and in a blink of an eye focused his full attention on the man with the collar in his attic.

 Tomas felt the sick presence the moment his fingers touched the stone. He let himself be lulled by the sudden silence, even though he should have known. He should have known that silence brought the storm, yet he couldn't stop himself from saying those words.

 "In the name of Jesus Christ... show yourself to me."

 'As you wish, padre,' a little girl's voice sounded inside his head and he was plunged into hell.

   Tomas woke up in the attic with a silent scream on his lips, the flashlight blinking next to him, looking as if it was ready to die any moment. For a blessed second he didn't know what was going on, where he was or why every part of his body hurt. For a second there was only the flashlight and shadows dancing before his eyes. Then everything rushed back to him and, with a gasp, Tomas scrambled to a sitting position, banging his back against a table.

 "Dios mio," Tomas uttered, overwhelmed by fear. He started muttering a prayer in Latin and the flashlight flickered warningly. Tomas paused, eyes wide as his senses screamed at him all at once. There was some invisible danger lurking close and every bit of his body wanted to flee. Tomas opened his mouth to continue with the prayer, hoping it would push back the darkness that was trying to swallow him.

 Unbeknown to him, a little girl was standing over his slumped form, a doll hanging limply from one of her hands. The other hand reached out with purpose and touched the fallen priest right where the hammer connected a few days back.

 Tomas screamed from pain and doubled over, barely holding in his lunch. He couldn't see, couldn't think. There was only the pain and the sound of screaming children in his head. Until the little girl leaned down and whispered in his ear, with a voice sweet, yet deadly.

 "Run."

 And run he did.

 Tomas didn't remember how he got out of the house or how he managed to grab his bag, the bible and the now useless flashlight. All he knew was that he was suddenly kneeling on the ground on all fours, the grass wet from the evening dew a cool sensation on his shaking hands. He had just finished heaving, spitting bile but still tasting the blood on his tongue; the sensation of being shot in the stomach battling with the sensation of drowning. Moaning, just the memory of it made him heave again. He expected to see the murky well water but got nothing but spit, stomach already painfully empty.

 Sitting back on his hunches, Tomas tried to calm his breathing and prayed silently. This time there was no presence pushing at him but he still felt like something dirty was crawling across his skin. Shivering, Tomas looked around, realizing he somehow managed to leave the house and run into the nearby woods. He didn't run deep though, as he could just see the shape of the house lurking behind the trees.

 For the first time since he faced the demon in Angela Rance, Tomas was truly scared. The presence in the house held such... malevolence, Tomas couldn't even start to grasp it. But he could still feel it, in his body, in his mind. That's what scared him the most. He couldn't stop the vision, couldn't stop feeling the pain and fear of those who were killed by the demon. He needed someone to pull him out of that hell and anchor him back in reality. He desperately needed Marcus.

 The problem was his phone died as he was halfway back to the house. And even if he could call him, what could Marcus do? He was probably already on a boat heading to the mainland and their motel.

 No, Tomas went against his order and had paid the price. Now he needed to pull himself together and somehow make it back to their place, back to Marcus. Back to safety.

 Tomas managed to stand up on shaky legs. He was astounded to find his bag lying on the ground only a few steps away. He didn't even remember grabbing it. Tomas woozily picked up the bag and headed towards the road, giving the house a wide circle. He’d almost reached the road when he heard the sound of a nearing car. For a second he froze like the proverbial deer caught in the headlights. His mind tried to figure out what the chanceswere that it was Marcus coming to look for him. Even in his shocked state Tomas quickly ruled out that possibility as insane. It might've been someone from the island just passing by, in which case Tomas could maybe hitch a ride and get to the mainland much sooner than he anticipated. But that chance was also pretty slim based on the remoteness of the Kim house. Most probably it was the family returning from camping prematurely. Tomas swallowed and instinctively stepped back from the road, his dark clothing making it easy for him to hide in the darkness of the trees.

 Soon enough, a familiar car drove down the road and parked in front of the house. Tomas could see Andy Kim and one of the children, Verity, the girl that seemed to dislike him greatly. There was no one else in the car and Tomas didn't know if he should feel worry or relief that Harper hadn’t returned to the house. In the end he settled on worry as he saw Andy rush inside, leaving a visibly shaken Verity behind. Tomas looked wistfully towards the now empty road, then back at the house, the front door still open. Swallowing, he turned back towards the house, his legs feeling like lead.

 By the time he’d made it to the front door his heart felt as if he'd run a marathon. Tomas stopped next to the car and looked worriedly inside the house. Verity has vanished in to her room as Andy went up the stairs... Tomas wished to have the courage to follow them inside, to ask what happened and find out where the others were, to drag both family members from that damned house and away from the danger. But it was just that, wishes. Tomas couldn't move. It wasn't Marcus's warning that rang in his head anymore, it was his own experience. He knew that whatever lurked inside was too strong for him. Those visions, they were a warning. A playful warning at that, Tomas realized, because he could've very easily been killed by them. Hell, he already felt like he’d died three different ways. He wasn't prepared for the real deal.

 So he stood before the house and looked up in silent terror at the shining light in the attic. He should go inside and do something, anything to stop the demon from taking over Andy.

 'Don't be a bloody idiot!' he could hear Marcus's voice clear as day, shouting into his ear. It didn't matter anyway. Tomas's legs refused to take a step closer to the house. Goosebumps covered his arms and he felt positively sick, but he didn't move. As if sensing his apprehension, the lights in the house flickered in amusement and the front door slowly, excruciatingly slowly, started to close. If Tomas squinted hard, he thought he could see a small hand on the door frame. Then it shut with a soft click, though in the silence of the night it sounded like a gunshot.

 Tomas jerked, then looked back towards the attic window. The shades were closed and the light was gone. Everything was quiet, except for the loud thumping of Tomas' heart inside his chest. He couldn't stay, not tonight, not by himself. Pushing aside the guilt of abandoning those two people to the evil of the house, Tomas said a prayer for their protection and tried to ignore the animalistic relief he felt with each step that was taking him farther from the house and its occupants.

 The night seemed to last forever. It might've been the fact that Tomas kept stumbling on the dark road and stopping several times to fight down a surge of blind panic... at having left the occupants of the house alone, at not knowing where Harper was. But mostly he panicked as he saw flashes of carnage and felt himself being pulled back into the attic.

 The visions attacked him once more and he shivered as he felt the cold well water closing in around him. He shuddered when the chain hit his face and felt himself falling to his knees, a silent scream on his lips. His eyes wide open, Tomas blinked in confusion as he found himself kneeling on the hard road, something wet running down his face. Reaching up in blind panic, expecting to find his fingers red and sticky with blood, he was surprised to find only the wetness of tears.

 Tomas forced himself to stand up on wobbly legs and continue down the road. The flashlight didn't work since the incident in the attic, so Tomas had to walk the road in total darkness. The moon was at half-mast and only scarcely peeked out from behind the clouds. Tomas was just grateful it wasn't raining.

 The walk shouldn't have taken him so long... the walk to the house during the day wasn't longer than an hour, but Tomas found it impossible to walk faster in the dark out of fear that he would simply wander off the road and become lost in the unwelcoming woods. And they were unwelcoming, with all the strange sounds, the occasional hooting of an owl or the swishing of leaves in the wind. Tomas wasn't used to camping out, he was the child of a city, whether it was Chicago or Mexico City. He knew how to behave in the dark streets, what things deserved his attention and when it was wisest to just run. Here, on this god forsaken island, lost in the darkness, everything screamed of danger. This whole island was occupied by evil and Tomas felt the hate and sick interest focusing his way.

 Shuddering at the thought of all the demons that could be feasting on this little island and its occupants, Tomas subconsciously quickened his step. Somewhere he must've missed a turn, because he found himself face to face with a road sign. Squinting in the darkness, Tomas let out a shout of frustration as he realized where he was and that he would have to backtrack a mile or two or he would have to walk another six miles to reach the port.

 It seemed like the island has conspired against him, like it was playing with him, trying to see how much he could handle. Tomas could almost hear the wind playing with the trees, as if cackling at his plight. Shaking his head resolutely, he turned and started back on the road. He needed to get off this island and back to Marcus as soon as possible... he needed to warn him. The kids were in much bigger danger than either of them had imagined. Steeling himself for more walking, shuddering in the coldness of the night, Tomas gritted his teeth and continued on. He was on a mission, one that had too many lives at stake to just give up, however badly Tomas wanted to. Because he did want to give up... to just get off the island and run as far away as possible, away from the demons and from his 'gift'. Tonight, Tomas saw the truth... tonight he realized his visions weren't a gift from God, they were a curse.

[televinita]

Zoo 3x08

♫ If you’re looking for truth, don’t come looking for me ♫

-- Echosmith, “Safest Place”

And if you are looking for me, I will be over here playing Mitch's new theme song on repeat while you read.

But first:

WELL ALL RIGHT THEN. Abigail found the secret passcode to earning my wrath, and it's called "emotionally torturing Jackson about his family and failure to save them and/or being responsible for their deaths" (LISTEN ZOO I know you don't know this but I am still pretty emotionally compromised about The O.C. and Ryan's savior complex and the number it did on his head after a certain fiery car accident of his own, so I don't think now is the best time to prod this wound.)

I'm not saying I can't use this footage of Jackson strung up by his wrists, or that I didn't feast like a tiger upon the spoils of said emotional torture, just that.......actually on second thought I can't remember why I came to this review complaining.

(Also wow I really enjoy the part where Jackson started to snap out of Zen mode when he heard she'd compromised Mitch, and him desperately trying to talk Mitch out of Duncan mode. I still do not know quite how to articulate what it is that delights me about their relationship to each other, but Jackson's side of it was on full display)

Alpha Ship

Keep you far, keep you far from what I know You'll be fine, you'll be fine, just don't look closely now

First of all,

"Aunt Jamie can't really hold her liquor" OMG. I'll take "things that definitely still happen in the AU where Mitch and Jamie had a life together" for $200, Alex. (that quote in some context, at least. maybe not the two-man abduction carry)

Anyway I am just gonna be over here making high pitched squeals about Mitch smoothing her hair out of her face and everything else about these 4 seconds before Max starts talking, because I kinda feel like this is as close to an aftermath-of-rescue with them in these positions as we're going to get this year, and I would like to to wring every drop of visible Caring I can out of it.

"If the team finds out what I've done, I will lose everything. I'll lose Clem -- Jamie -- everything."

Well that hurt me good and deep. Can someone please call all the ambulances? My heart is under attack.

He has a fair point to be worried about: even if they understand, how would they in good conscience be able to keep him around if they don't know what he can do as Mr. Duncan, or how Mr. Duncan takes over? How can they be sure of their own safety alone with him, given how the biodrive might affect things?

On bright side: I forgot I had seen the kiss in this episode early, so that was a bolt out of the blue of PURE UNADULTERATED SHIPPY JOY when my eyeballs encountered it after seeing the context of Mitch being Sketchy As Heck and deserving none of Jamie's wholly sincere reassurance*, but desperate for it anyway. I choose to believe he was on the verge of spilling the beans at that point, but maybe not quite all the way there until the kiss sealed it.

*you are hereby forgiven for the Reiden Tower lies

Morgan & Morgan

I love Squirrelly!Mitch and I loved everything about him and Max working together and accidentally almost having some heart to hearts. Especially Max The Number One Mitch/Jamie Shipper giving him advice that Mitch actually takes about coming clean (or tries to take; thanks for being both the solution to and the cause of all our ship problems today, Max!).

The temporary blindness side effect was my favorite part, especially his insistence on hiding it when Jamie needed an actual airplane-crashing scenario to be distracted enough for only moderate concern at his short-circuiting and Max's oddly eager intervention (honestly, at a certain point he might as well have been hopping along singing "We're off on a secret mission!"). I enjoyed the humorous elements, but would not have opposed a multi-episode arc for the more serious, if this show had made room for it.

Bizarro Alpha Ship

Lies unfolding, cover your eyes

I've remained pretty neutral on the whole Duncan Reveal thing, and I think the reason is: listen, if you want to give me two Billy Burke characters at the same time on one show, then that... well, let's just say this is a fair imitation of the list of Billy Burke characters I have scoured the far corners of the internet, libraries and streaming video sites to enjoy.

But. THE ENDING. 100% agree with empress-of-snark's assessment:

I’ve never really wanted to see one of my otp’s beating each other up, but like…. I get it now. There was something immensely satisfying about seeing Jamie elbowing/kicking Mitch in the face, and I don’t understand but I enjoyed it (probably cause it wasn’t really him technically, but).

I also really enjoy when he first turns around with that eerie, dead-eyed stare (oh hey Gary Matheson redux) and she realizes who he is. This is ONE thing I'll admit sci fi does well -- the mind control / body takeover trope. I delighted in this exact same thing once on Under the Dome’s third season. There is nothing more chilling than seeing a character you would have sworn on your life would never harm their significant other be prepared to do exactly that, with no off switch. It's a much better experience as a viewer to know that it’s beyond their control than to find out they are actually human monsters, though.

And it's an even better experience when Jamie just steamrollers over any unhelpful emotions she's about to have with the steely resolve of Fine, It's A Beautiful Day To Kick Your Ass, and suddenly I'm wondering how low-prole it would be to edit and remix this fight with a subtle backing of "Move, Bitch." (why is the chorus of this song always relevant to my interests)

In other words: all fear and trust and betrayal issues can take a backseat for now because Jamie has one job right now, and I love that she has enough confidence and skill to know she can go through him if she has to.

Odds and Ends

I sat through Logan's entire waste of screen time in order not to lose my understanding-the-plot momentum, and so far I regret that decision.

Okay fine the Kenyatta family spooning was pretty adorbs.

Max trying to use the L word = aces

Out of all of AI Logan's comments, "I have an unfortunate announcement" is my very favorite. I want to use that all the time. Why isn't easy embedding of sound clips a thing.

Jackson attempting to strangle Abigail with his legs? Kinda workin' for me.

I think my favorite thing about Max and the Summoning Rod is that it's very much like the things Mitch ran Jackson through last year. Not so fun to be the guinea pig getting told to buck up, is it?

Should it concern me that I didn't even realize Clem was absent (off in Tankland) until they mentioned her?

Overall: minus Logan's non-AI scenes, WHAT A FUN AND WILD RIDE THIS WAS. By far the highest quality-per-minute density of the season for me. Superb sister episode to Howler Sloth.

I've had so much fun skipping back through it and watching the characters run around*, I keep legit forgetting the plane is going crazy because there is an octopus with snake legs (or something) they had to hack to death. There is so much IN this episode I can't possibly cover it all. It feels like lasted 900 years in a good way.

*or in the Morgans' case, sometimes, remain calm and blissfully unaware while the women nearly die following the Bitches Get Stuff Done model; the juxtaposition between the two drastically different panic levels cracks me up every time.

I have already watched a few minutes into episode 9 because that was a WTF cliffhanger, but I think this is as far as I am gonna get before next new episode.