#i don’t think it’s called lightning lane anymore

[chiaraeliz]

been busy with school but also kingdom hearts is back on my mind

[abbyromanoff]

I'd like to request subby Nat x reader smut please ☺

Done For

Pairings: Natasha Romanoff x reader

Word count: 1453

Warnings: smut, bondage, daddy kink, bottom!Nat, vibrators, fingering, mentions of face-riding, punishments, pet names, small pet play, edging, mentions of overstimulation, breast play, think that’s it!

No one is permitted to steal, copy, or reblog my work as their own!!

“C’mon, doll, you can do it.” You said, watching as the redhead withered and shook beneath you. Her arms were tied to the headboard and her legs were kept spread out on your shoulders. She was nearly squeezing your head with her strong yet chubby thighs.

“No, I- ah! Daddy, I can’t anymore!” She whined out, her stomach hurting with how badly she needed to cum.

“You should’ve thought of that before you decided to act out in front of everyone.” You said, continuing to tease the vibrator up and down her folds before pressing it down on her pulsing clit.

You two had gone to the store earlier in hopes of finding a few quick groceries for the dinner you had planned, but Nat wasn’t listening. At first, she was compliant, begging to go to the store with you and prancing around while holding onto your hand. That was until she saw it, her favorite aisle, the teddy bear aisle. She went off, releasing her hand from your hold and running over to the large pen of stuffies in the middle of the lane. She grabbed them all, not seeming to recognize your annoyed face from when she latched off of you.

“Please?! Look at how cute he is!” She showed the polar bear teddy in your face before placing it gently in the cart, not wanting to hurt the object. You tried calming yourself before answering her by taking a deep breath and grabbing the plush, placing it back in the bin, and watching as her face fell.

“Don’t you think you have enough, sweetheart?” You ran your hands over her cheek, smiling at her adorable pout. That was until she snatched your hand and threw it off of her face.

“But I want this one!” She was starting to draw a few wandering eyes and you smiled apologetically to them before they returned their attention to whatever was at their hands.

“Nat, you better lower your voice and lose that attitude.” She grabbed the teddy once more and placed it in the cart with a scowl your way. You widened your eyes at her newfound behavior, she was never one to act out, usually being considered an angel by many including you.

“If you put this back and get rid of that face, I won’t be so mean when we get home, got it?” She didn’t listen, only crossing her arms over her chest and sending you glares.

“Don’t make me count to three, Natasha.” That made her stance loosen up a bit. You never called her by her full name, not even when she was being punished. She knew she fucked up, but now it was too late to redeem herself.

“1.” She didn’t move.

“2.” Only a small flinch came out of her face when your sharp voice hit her eardrums.

“3.” Fuck. That was it. No more chances, no more playing nice, she was done for.

“Such a stupid little girl. Here I was planning to reward you for being such a good pet, I was even considering getting you that stuffed animal. That was until you ruined it.” Moans were pouring out of her at lightning speed. Anytime she tried to muster something out it was to be interrupted by her alluring voice.

“Pl- ugh! Please, Daddy. I won’t do it again, I swear!” The vibrator was at the highest setting at this point. It was like you knew her body better than she did. You knew exactly when to lower it and exactly when to increase the buzzing speed.

“And how can I believe you, Natty? You told me that if I let you go to the store with me that you’d be good, and you broke that promise as well. You think I can trust you now, hm?” She shook her head, trying to force herself away from the toy but wanting nothing more than to chase after it. Her arms were aching with how long she had been stuck in this position, forced not to cum all because you had said so. She’d do anything you asked, but she was near breaking point.

“I’m sorry, Daddy, I really am!”

“That’s it? Where’d my tough little girl back at the store go?” She winced at your words, the wetness only growing from the harsh and degrading words you let out.

“Aww, does that make you all wet and sticky, honey? It’s alright, Daddy’s almost done.” The only thing on her mind was you and it was not helping her with holding back. She wanted to release right then and there, but she knew it would only pull her into a deeper hole that she already dug for herself. Maybe you’d bend her over your lap, make her count as you spanked her until her ass was red. Maybe you’d blindfold her and use her over and over, successfully overstimulating her on end. Or maybe you’d sit at the end of the bed, keeping her tied up as you played with yourself. The vibrator currently being used on her would be replaced by your cunt. Watching as you finish without her, showing she has no use to you.

“Tell me what’s on your mind, love.” You noticed her distracted state and couldn’t help but be curious. There was a small sense of worry in your tone, but you played it off well.

“You..” She whispered, her voice ending up being too high-pitched due to the moan her mouth let out, which led you to hear her oh so well.

“Oh, you’re so sweet, doll. Tell me what it is about me that has you so distracted, Nat.” Your fingers found place on her breasts, pinching and tweaking the hardened buds as she twitched.

“Daddy, it hurts.” You only chuckled dryly, enjoying the way her cheeks were red with tears.

“But you’re just so, so pretty when you cry, pretty girl.” You asked her once more to tell you what she was thinking and she knew she had to listen if she wanted to ever get to cum.

“I-I was thinking about you and how you’d handle me.” Her voice wavered the more she spoke.

“Oh? And how exactly would I handle you?” You noticed how close she was getting, turning down the setting of the toy and watching as she cried out even more. You took your thumb and wiped her tears before returning it to her nipples and smearing the wetness over them both, a small glow illuminating from the watery substance.

“The longer you take to answer me, the longer I make you wait to cum.”

“I’m sorry! I was thinking about you punishing me, and how rough you’d- ah! How rough you’d be with your little girl.” She bit down on her lip, nearly drawing blood.

“Yeah? You like when Daddy’s rough? You like being my little whore, just desperate for anything I could give you?” She nodded quickly, feeling the toy's speed increase as you continued your teasing to her breasts. You lowered your head to her chest and took one nipple in your mouth, keeping eye contact with her while she panted heavily.

“Maybe I should just,” You spoke, pecking her bud once again before finishing your statement. “Ride this beautiful face of yours. Not let you cum until I do. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” You reached out to stroke her cheek, speaking in a low and seductive voice. You moved your mouth to her neglected breast and repeated your actions.

“Yes! I’d love it so much, Daddy!” Your free hand went to tease her hole, the other still pressing the vibrator against her clit. You slid into her with ease, she was so wet.

“Fuck, baby, ‘could stick my whole hand in here and you’d still make it fit.” Your second finger soon joined, the two pumping in and out of her relentlessly.

“You wanna cum that badly, baby girl?”

“Y-yes! Please, I promise I’ll be good.” You couldn’t resist that adorable face of hers and gave in.

“Cum for me.” Her juices spilled onto you, coating your fingers and the toy with her release. Her head was thrown back in pleasure, her eyes closed as she was practically seeing stars. You wished your eyes could take pictures so you could capture this very moment and play it back on repeat.

“That’s it, just ride it out.” When she had finally come back to her senses, your fingers were still pumping inside of her rapidly.

“Mm, Daddy, ‘m too sore.” She wasn’t able to escape your grasp and you wouldn’t let her either.

“Oh, my dumb little pup, did you really think I’d let you off that easily?”

[randomfandomimagine]

Ficlets Masterlist

FANDOMS MASTERLIST

🔷 AVATAR: THE LAST AIRBENDER

◾ Zuko

The Truth (Angst, Fluff)

Suspicious about Zuko’s intentions, the group comes up with a plan in which Y/N finds out the truth about his reasons. They just didn’t know it would also means to learn the truth about his scar.

Not Afraid Anymore (Angst, Happy Ending)

Facing what might be their last battle, Y/N realizes that not even Zuko’s company proves comforting, until something happens that helps them find their courage.

Separated (Angst, Happy Ending)

Y/N and Zuko are constantly arguing because of his stubbornness, and it isn’t until they are separated that they truly realize how much they need each other.

Shared Secrets (Angst, Fluff)

After meeting in Iroh’s tea shop, Zuko and Y/N are becoming close. But Y/N knows Zuko as Lee, and he comes to realize that he’s not the only one keeping secrets.

◾ Sokka

Hooked (Emotional Hurt / Comfort, Fluff)

Surrounded by benders, Y/N feels inadequate until Sokka notices.

🔷 BACK TO THE FUTURE

◾ Marty McFly

Struck By Lightning (Friends To Lovers)

Being Doc’s family, Y/N invents a time machine that they don’t hesitate to show their best friend Marty. The only problem is, they end up getting stuck in the year 1955 and have to find a way to go back together.

Cupid’s Arrow (Love At First Sight, Fluff)

Y/N and Marty meet when their bands audition on the same day, finding that they share more than just a love for music.

🔷 BREAKING BAD

◾ Jesse Pinkman

Kind (Emotional Hurt / Comfort)

That house seems like the home of drug addicts and nothing more, but when Jesse comes in, he didn’t expect to meet someone like Y/N.

🔷 BROOKLYN NINE-NINE

◾ Jake Peralta

Bottled Feelings (Angst With a Happy Ending, Idiots In Love)

Tired of trying to get close to Jake, Y/N finds that working on a case with him has a very messy result due to their tension.

I’m Here For You (Emotional Hurt / Comfort)

When Y/N doesn’t answer Jake’s calls or texts, he decides to check on them. He just wan’t expecting to see them feeling so sad.

How You Make Me Feel (Mutual Pining, Idiots In Love)

After Y/N has a nice gesture with Jake, his reaction causes a rollercoaster of emotions that culminate when he takes actions on how Y/N’s gesture made him feel.

Fake It Until You Make It (Fake Dating, Angst, Fluff, Happy Ending)

Wanting to make Amy jealous, Jake and Y/N agree to pretend to be dating. After a while, they realize that their feelings might not be as fake as their plan.

Undercover (Angst, Fluff)

Jake and Y/N have an undercover mission, which has lots of surprises in store for them.

Drunken Confession (Enemies To Lovers)

Y/N seems to be mean to Jake for no reason, until their drunken state finally makes htem confess the real reason of their behavior.

Back To Normal (Angst, Fluff, Emotional Hurt / Comfort)

Arriving back at the precinct after a long time undercover, Jake seems to be the one who treats Y/N normally while at the same time trying to be of comfort.

🔷 DC

🔸 LOIS & CLARK

◾ Jimmy Olsen

Lazarus (Emotional Hurt / Comfort, Angst, Happy Ending)

Y/N is a photographer at the Daily Planet, quite close with Jimmy Olsen. Being really close with Lois Lane and, especially Clark Kent, Y/N is devastated when something happens to Clark and seeks comfort in Jimmy’s presence.

🔸 SUPERGIRL (Old fandom)

◾ Clark Kent

The Right Moment (Angst, Fluff)

Y/N knows that Clark is keeping a secret, but he thinks it’s time to reveal it.

🔷 DCEU

◾ Barry Allen

Here With You (Emotional Hurt / Comfort, Fluff)

Y/N is having a bad day, but still doesn’t want to reach out. When Barry still appears at Y/N’s place, worried, they will realize it’s not so bad to need cheering up.

I Love You Too (Hurt / Comfort, Angst, Happy Ending)

Barry must make a great sacrifice, but Y/N wants to tell him something before he does. Unable to tell him, Y/N deals with the result of Barry’s sacrifice and wonders whether or not he reciprocated those feelings.

◾ Clark Kent

A Whisper Among The Noise (Songfic, Pining, Angst, Happy Ending)

Clark and Y/N had known each other for a while, but it’s in an office party that  they finally start to bond and Clark comforts Y/N about those insecurities concerning him.

🔷 DETROIT: BECOME HUMAN

◾ Connor RK800

Can Do Both (Emotional Hurt / Comfort)

You call Connor when you think someone’s broken into your place, and are surprised by how he can change from badass to gentle.

New Emotion (Fluff)

Connor feels very protective of Y/N, perhaps more so than his prograaming tells him to be.

First Date (Fluff)

Y/N and Connor want to spend some time alone and go on their first date.

Meeting His Creator (Fluff)

Connor grows flustered when he meets Y/N, the person that created the RK800 model

In Love (Fluff)

Something is coming in conflict with Connor’s programming, and he comes to realizes it’s his feelings for Y/N.

Fascinating (Fluff)

Connor learns about the small things that make being human special through Y/N’s eyes.

Breakdown (Angst, Emotional Hurt / Comfort)

After a specially tough case, Y/N breaks down and Connor doesn’t hesitate to be there to pick up the pieces.

Surprise! (Fluff)

Wanting to do something special for Y/N, Connor prepares a surprise party for their birthday.

◾ Markus RK200

Thunderstorm (Emotional Hurt / Comfort)

Y/N goes to spend some days at Carl’s house just when a scary thunderstorm breaks out. Luckily, Markus is there for comfort.

🔷 FINAL FANTASY VII

◾ Cloud Strife

Reunion (Angst, Happy Ending)

Sharing a tragic past with Cloud and Zack, Y/N tries to move on from the haunting memories of her time at SOLDIER. It isn’t until she is reunited with Cloud that he realizes Y/N is alive.

Heal My Heart (Hurt / Comfort, Angst, Happy Ending)

Because of their stubbornness, both Cloud and Y/N ended up injured during a dangerous fight. Once they’re safe, they have to mends those internal wounds as well as the external ones.

Star In Your Eyes (Pining, Angst, Happy Ending)

Y/N has feelings for Cloud, but is convinced that he can’t reciprocate them. One night, thoughtfully looking at the stars, Cloud finds Y/N wanting to talk.

Holiday (Tooth Rotting Fluff)

Having some time for themselves, Y/N and Cloud go on a holiday together in which they learn to further understand one another.

Don’t Be Like Me (Sickfic, Hurt / Comfort, Angst, Fluff)

Cloud goes to check on Y/N after not hearing from them for a few days and finds that they’re neglecting themselves, forcing Cloud to look after them himself.

Fast Learner (Fluff, Mutual Pining)

Cloud finally gives in and teaches Y/N how to fight.

Distraction (Angst, Fluff, Happy Ending)

When Y/N stumbles back into the bar, hurt and barely conscious, Cloud has to make his best to distract them and keep them awake. That might just be enough for him to slip up and confess his feelings.

Flirt (Mutual Pining, Fluff)

Although Cloud isn’t usually the affectionate type, Y/N finds that he’s surprisingly close with them and decides to test his attraction for them.

Too Scared (Hurt / Comfort, Fluff)

When something goes wrong during a mission and Y/N gets hurt, Cloud gets slightly protective. Even with Barret and Tifa’s concern, Y/N doesn’t quite feel safe until a certain someone steps in.

◾ Aerith Gainsborough

Even From Afar (Bodyguard, Fluff)

Being assigned to protect Aerith, Y/N is struggling to fulfill her duty as a Turk. Upon noticing Y/N, Aerith playfullys tries to make them less tense about it.

◾ Reno Sinclair

Bruised Soul (Hurt / Comfort, Angst)

Y/N patches Reno up after he arrives from one of his many missions, showing there’s more to that Turk than what it seemed.

Sworn Enemies (Enemies To Lovers, Mutual Pining)

Reno and Y/N are on opposite teams, but they are too attracted to each other to be able to ignore it.

🔷 FINAL FANTASY XV

◾ Prompto Argentum

Finger Guns (Emotional Hurt / Comfort)

Prompto realizes that Y/N is terrified of guns and, them being his main weapons, he tries to help with that fear.

◾ Gladiolus Amicitia

Birthday Surprise (Fluff)

Gladio’s and Y/N’s birthday are near each other, so they want to celebrate them together.

🔷 GOD OF WAR

◾ Atreus

White Wolf (Fluff, Non Romantic)

While they take a walk and try to hunt, Y/N and Atreus find a wolf cub that they try to get Kratos to let them keep.

🔷 HARRY POTTER

◾ Neville Longbottom

Expecto Patronum (Emotional Hurt / Comfort, Fluff)

With everything that is happening due to the return of Voldemort, a scary storm is the last straw for Y/N. Luckily, Neville is there to comfort them and make them forget all their fears.

◾ Cedric Diggory

Protective (Hurt / Comfort)

The Quidditch match is not turning out how the Hufflepuff team expected, with Y/N getting hurt in the process. Luckily, Cedric cares enough about Y/N to leave Quidditch behind.

Hufflepuff Champion (Fluff, Emotional Hurt / Comfort)

Upon Y/N being chosen as the Hufflepuff Champion for the Triwizard Tournament, Cedric becomes very worried about them.

◾ Luna Lovegood

Always Welcome (Christmas, Fluff)

Luna invites Y/N to spend Christmas at the Lovegood residence with her.

🔷 HOWL’S MOVING CASTLE

◾ Howl Pendragon

Special (Fluff)

Being Howl’s apprentice comes with lots of perks, one of them being your closeness to him. However, it also comes with lots of surprises.

🔷 HOW TO TRAIN YOUR DRAGON

◾ Hiccup Haddock

Just A Dragon (Slight Hurt / Comfort, Fluff)

After arriving to Berk when they’re rescued from their dying land, Y/N tries to adjust to their new home. Luckily, a boy called Hiccup is very helpful in that regard. Unluckily, he’s good friends with a dragon that scares Y/N.

🔷 MARVEL

🔸 PS4 SPIDERMAN

◾ Peter Parker

Secret Identity (Pining, Hurt / Comfort)

Y/N realizes Peter is behaving strangely, though nothing seeems to make sense until Spiderman appears on Y/N’s house, needing their help.

Weight On His Shoulders (Pining, Fluff)

Y/N is a huge Spiderman fan, which earns them constant teasing from Peter, who happens to also be Y/N’s best friend. But what happens when those two people collide in Y/N’s life, and what feelings will that evoke?

Secrets (Fluff)

Wanting to confess their feelings once and for all, Y/N finally faces Peter and rushes to his apartment. What Y/N wasn’t expeccting was that not only secret was revealed.

Halloween Party (Fluff)

Y/N and Peter attend a Halloween party dressed as Spiderpeople.

🔸 RAIMI SPIDERMAN

◾ Peter Parker

Empty Heart (Fluff, Angst, Sad Ending)

Y/N and Peter have admired each other from afar in high school, until they reunite after graduation and finally gather enough courage to talk to each other. However, and despite how happy they are while they date, Y/N’s career as a firefighter and Peter’s secret identity as Spiderman collide in a not so happy ending.

🔷 MARVEL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE

◾ Bucky Barnes

No Hope (Fluff, Angst, Sad Ending)

After a period of happiness, Y/N and Bucky are forced to face the harsh reality that is the Winter Soldier’s life even after he has tried to leave his past behind.

Steal Your Pain Away (Enemies To Lovers, Angst, Hurt / Comfort, Happy Ending)

Bucky doesn’t seem to like Y/N because of their link with HYDRA, and some of the other Avengers join him on his dislike of Y/N. However, when Y/N saves Bucky’s life, their secret is revealed and with that their hidden feelings for Bucky and that make him see things differently.

🔷 MERLIN

◾ Arthur Pendragon

Flowers (Angst, Fluff)

Despite their close relationship, Arthur has distanced himself from Y/N. Worried about this, Y/N worries and confronts Merlin about the matter, who reveals that the secret might not be as bad as Y/N thought.

🔷 MR. LOVE: QUEEN’S CHOICE

◾ Gavin

Hostage (Angst, Fluff, Hurt / Comfort, Happy Ending)

Gavin and MC are working on one of the shows together at the police station when something unexpected happens to them that will change not only their day, but also their whole relationship.

First Kiss (Emotional Hurt / Comfort, Angst, Fluff, Happy Ending)

Y/N hurries to go visit Gavin, worrying about him because of his job, only for that anguish to end up in unxpected affection.

🔷NEW GIRL

◾ Nick Miller

Puzzle (Friends To Lovers, Idiots In Love, Mutual Pining)

Y/N doesn’t understand why it’s so hard to concentrate on anything. Likewise, Nick is obsessed with different tasks that take his entire focus. It isn’t until Jess realizes that Nick and Y/N like each other that their odd behaviors change.

🔷RESIDENT EVIL

◾ Leon Kennedy

What Matters Most (Hurt / Comfort, Angst, Happy Ending)

Being trapped with Leon, Y/N end ups taking a hit for him in order to save his life.

That Flirt In The Red Dress (Emotional Hurt / Comfort)

Dating Leon while surviving is hard enough for Y/N to on top of all meet someone who flirts with Leon and makes Y/N jealous.

Black And White (Emotional Hurt / Comfort, Soulmate AU)

Y/N’s world has always been in black and white, until they meet their soulmate, who happesn to also be the person that saves them.

🔷 STAR WARS

◾ Poe Dameron

Love Notes (Mutual Pining, Fluff)

Being a nurse in the Resistance isn’t always easy, but things feels a little more bearable thanks to those sweet but mysterious love notes that BB8 brings you... until you find out your secret admirer’s identity.

🔷 THE LEGEND OF ZELDA

◾ Link

Crush (Fluff)

Y/N tries to deal with their crush on Link, only to find that he might reciprocate.

🔷 THE MAN FROM U.N.C.L.E

◾ Illya Kuryakin

Aftermath (Hurt / Comfort, Fluff)

Illya and Y/N comfort each other after a especially challenging mission.

🔷 THE WITCHER

◾ Geralt

I Don’t Need You (Angst)

Geralt’s behavior is extremely cold and distant after Y/N gets severely hurt. Will they be able to settle their differences after this incident?

Not A Hero (Angst, Happy Ending, Hurt / Comfort)

When a injured witcher arrived to them, It seemed like Y/N was his savior when they took him in and healed him. However, it seems like Geralt can also save Y/N.

◾ Jaskier

What Would You Do Without Me (Hurt / Comfort, Fluff)

Y/N is intent on exploring perilous lands and Jaskier, ever at her side, agrees to go wit her. His presence and comfort prove more helpful than she could have imagined.

Closer (Hurt / Comfort, Angst, Happy Ending)

You don’t know what you have until you lose it, and it isn’t until Jaskier gets badly hurt that Y/N realizes how much he truly means to them.

You’re My Heart (Fluff, Angst, Sad Ending)

There’s a blossoming romance between Y/N and Jaskier among their journey, but after Y/N is put through near death experience, Geralt and Jaskier decide that it’s best to part ways in order to protect Y/N.

Under Your Spell (Pining, Idiots In Love, Angst, Happy Ending)

Reuniting by a whim of destiny, Jaskier and Y/N bond again despite their clear differences.

Friends (Emotional Hurt / Comfort, Angst, Happy Ending)

Y/N feels tired and hopeless, and it isn’t until Jaskier talks to them that they don’t realize many things about themselves.

I Still Love You (Songfic, Angst)

Jealous of his endless interests on other people, Y/N runs away from their feelings on Jaskier only to walk straight into a dangerous situation.

Shower Day (Angst, Emotional Hurt / Comfort, Happy Ending)

After a tough break up, Y/N is feeling heartbroken and worthless, but Jaskier is determined to be there to make them feel better.

Light Of My Life (Fluff, Emotional Hurt / Comfort)

To show his love for Y/N, Jaskier prepares a romantic surprise in which he plans to confess. What he wasn’t expecting was to see Y/N being insecure upon realizing his feelings.

Little Bard (Hurt / Comfort, Fluff)

When Jaskier turns up injured and looking for help, Y/N doesn’t hesitate to look after him, even if he becomes more important to them and either of them could imagine.

🔷 TO ALL THE BOYS I’VE LOVED BEFORE

◾ John Ambrose McClaren

Too Nice (Mutual Pining, Fluff)

Unable to deal with their feelings for John, Y/N constantly tries to find his flaws, even if in the end they have to give up and admit how great John is.

[coweggomelet]

volume 6 lads

from what i remember this one is similar to 4 in that it gives us a bit of an emotional break

don’t get me wrong i know there’s some stuff but i think overall it’s a little less intense

- ahhhh they’re all fighting together againnn it feels so right

- hey. hey yang and blake. i’m gonna need you to stop. cause my little heart can’t take it

- this dude really was challenged once and had a full blown murder tantrum. that’s fragility my guy

- ruby is SO CUTE look at her little happy face

- oh yeah. take a train. you guys have a great track record with trains

- i also keep getting like three versions of the same ad about getting vaccinated and it’s got all these workers from tv & movie sets and it’s so awkward this one guy looks so annoyed during his whole part

- it’s not just the turrets y’all oz is withholding shit once again

- don’t fuckin shove my boy!!

- i love that qrow immediately steps back when ruby comes forward. like he 100% respects not only her authority as a team leader but also her ability to solve situations and talk to people. he knows man. he knows his niece is something else

- MARIAAAAA MY GIRLL YES

- uh oh the train crashed. who could’ve seen that coming

- cinder really is just too angry and spite filled to die isn’t she

- hehe maria you’re funny

- it’s so funny that oz is still refusing to tell them everything knowing that everything is revealed in the next episode

- oh oz. i know he was your friend. but all these kids saw was the insane amount of harm and death he caused. trying to defend him to them is not gonna go well

- oscaarrr i love you!! you’re so good!!

- oooo chills

- uuugghh i love jinn she’s so cool

- oz. my dude. the ship has sailed. you can’t stop this anymore

- this, my friends, is what we call a lore episode

- this whole sequence gives me chills it’s so gooood

- eurgh i hate how the god of darkness moves like i get it it’s part of the aesthetic but you really don’t need to do that it’s creepy

- salem was so smart to use a super powerful sibling rivalry to get what she wanted

- she really didn’t deserve to watch the love of her live just get revived and killed over and over again

- jeez the gods are assholes. they’re all oooohh maintain balance and then they torture a woman who just wanted her husband back by making her live forever. for what??? for daring to be smart?? ugh

- c’mon gods you gotta respect the hustle

- you think that making someone immortal will make them realize the importance of life and death?? idiots

- god her face

- she’s so smart what the FUCK

- “the hearts of men are easily swayed” really reminds me of galadriel’s “the hearts of men are easily corrupted” in lotr

- a couple hundred humans attack them and the god of darkness decides “you know what? i’m gonna eliminate all of humanity. that feels like the right choice. yeah. i feel good about this.”

- the fact that salem wasn’t even like… a real villain until she tried to kill herself in order to escape her torture and suffering and the grimm juice made her Big Mad

- like it wasn’t even her, it was the grimm juice. i really do believe that without that she wouldn’t have become salem the Villain

- i’m sorry i don’t know a ‘deathly hallows’ i only know the relics

- ohhh fuck i forgot about this!!! oh rwby’s totally gonna end with the gods judging humanity when the relics are brought together. maybe not end end but it’s definitely gonna be close to the end and it’ll be a Big Thing where they strategize about how to convince the gods that humanity is good

- obviously the first maidens weren’t their kids but boy is there a theme going on here. and maybe even something plot relevant cause their kids could do magic

- all the main characters being able to witness this and us seeing their reactions is such a good touch like god, the impact of this reality is so much heavier because we get to see the characters actually affected by it react to watching it unfold before them

- ohhh my boy. you didn’t deserve this burden before but now that you know fully what it means you really don’t deserve it. i mean look at him!!!

- oh qrow!!! you are doing good! i mean i get it, your whole world’s been shattered and the man you gave your life to lied to you about a lot of important shit but you are doing good i promise!!

- fuck yeah maria use your sassy wise old lady authority

- oh god emerald you poor thing you’re just a babey— oh god i felt salem’s hand on emerald’s shoulder fuck dude this show is so effective

- truly, this is a master class in manipulation

- uh oh salem your ex is back

- UH OH ITS THE FARM RUN YALL

- i like that weiss is wearing what looks like very thin tights, a strapless dress, a lil jacket thing, and the animators said “here she’s got a scarf she’s warm now”

- ruby didn’t kill torchwood y’all, he got chomped. like a lil bitch

- oh god this episode

- yaaaayyy

- before this episode my friend went “you ready for some horror?” and was grinning

- oh yeeeaaah the corpses. lovely

- god as soon as they opened the door to where the cellar entrance is it immediately started affecting weiss

- oh the DOOR nope no thank you get the fuck OUT

- watching this show with my friend was also the origin of me being sad cause this shit is sad and her going “oh i’m having a great time” and this episode in particular she was enjoying herself WAY TOO MUCH if you ask me

- little jump scares kept getting me and she LAUGHED and said “that got you?!?” YES it DID i’m a WUSS

- oh the journals!!! the way they incorporated that was so interesting and added SUCH good creepiness and suspense without giving it all away or ramping it up too fast

- ruby’s so good i love her!!

- uuugghh it’s getting them already how haven’t they noticed???

- the eyes got me good the first time

- their weird fuckin attitudes were the creepiest part of this episode

- ruby said not my friends you bitches

- mariaaaa i love you you’re so smart

- god when they’re reading from the journal at the very end…

- neo’s so tiny!!

- talk about some girlbosses 

- MARIAAAAA YOURE SUCH A BADASS i love her backstory

- love her outfit too

- OOOO THE FUCKIN CROCODILE CLOCK LADY ooooo this is so cooooool

- the ticking!!!!

- oh maria you poor thing. but also you’re so smart like that was such a good move

- aww haha qrow’s a fan. awww he based his weapon off hers!! we love a fanboy

- “i wanted to be as good as the grimm reaper.” “well, im nothing but a disappointment, so you’re well on your way” DAMN MARIA SAVAGE

- oh nice they made to argus! NOW SHOW ME THE BABY

- “CUTE BOY OZ” me too nora

- THE BAAAABBYYYY

- and jaune’s sister and her wife!! I LOVE THEIR GAY LIL FAMILY

- yang is good with kids. marry me

- YOURE GODDAMN RIGHT THATS A BABY AND I LOVE HIM

- HUN!! god i love saph and terra

- “shut up there’s food!” heh me too ruby

- aahhh cordo

- she and maria are totally exes who had a bad breakup and now they hate each other. a tenzin/lin situation if you will

- jaune… my boy… i know you’re angry but oscar is really trying his best

- “i don’t know anything” me neither ruby

- wait cinder didn’t have her grimm arm yet so how did ruby’s ability trigger?

- uh oh my boy’s missing

- remember when you were having fun being the bad guy emerald. remember that. it’s almost like… it was only fun for you cause cinder was there

- it makes me so sad that not only did emerald actually believe that cinder cared about her, but she actually considered cinder family and her emotional health was so connected to cinder being there

- “all you ever learned was pain and violence and now you’re too afraid to leave it” tyrian excuse me i’m the one with the commentary and analysis that’s rude stay in your lane

- oh god oh fuck. the pyrrha statue is comin up isn’t it

- AH FUCK THE LEAF

- oh there she is. my love

- i still wanna know who this lady is. like she’s even the same voice actor as pyrrha. and she’s got red hair. i don’t think pyrrha ever talked about family members, but my money’s on her mom

- this moment fuckin got me dude. i was doing the full tearing up, lil sniffles, choked up thing. uuuuggghh

- god they love each other so much

- i am NOT gonna cry again

- oh qrow. you poor thing

- THE BABYYYY HI ADRIAN DO YOU KNOW I LOVE YOU

- young man!! you scared us half to death! do you know what time it is??

- his lil outfit i i looovveee hiiimm

- oscarrr!! you’re so sweet!!

- THE CASSEROLE

- FUCK YEAH RUBY TELL HIM

- qrow’s like… damn. ruby’s right

- here we goooo infiltration time

- oh FUCK yeah they kill adam soon

- adrian what a smart babyyyy i love youu

- hehehehehe maria is luggage

- honestly this is such a good plan it just goes to shit cause these kids can’t catch a fuckin break

- y’all need. to stop. looking. at each other. like that.

- qrow stop being emo

- mariaaaa i love youuuu you’re such a great old lady

- uh ohhhh problems with blake

- i would love it if they used qrow’s semblance strategically. like in some sort of heist/infiltration situation, sending him behind enemy lines to fuck up their luck

- ruby’s so good at speeches

- depressed? feeling bad about yourself? feeling emo and riddled with guilt? just get a Ruby Speech(TM) and you'll be cured!

- qrow’s��face

- oh yeaaaahhh big metal guy

- cordo

- hey cordo

- are you uh

- maybe takin it a lil too far

- why are so many atlas military people so fuckin intense with maintaining order and big shows of power and controlling other people???

- ADAM YOU BITCH YOURE GONNA DIE

- yeah you’re a source of trauma for her but GUESS WHAT SHE HAS A SUPPORT SYSTEM

- at this point dude it’s real pathetic how obsessed with blake you are

- thank god for auras or falling damage would be a much bigger problem

- cordo can you maybe chill

- weiss earthbended!!

- jaune you’re so smart

- ren said things may be complicated but boy oh boy do i care about that strong lightning lady

- “rightfully in charge??” shut up cordo and go be gay with maria

- noooo her fun coat!!

- oooo Dramatic waterfalls

- YES BITCH IM SO PROUD OF YOU YOUVE LEARNED SO MUCH

- adam i’ll kill you

- YEEEAHHHH WHAT AN ENTRANCE YANG MARRY MEEEE

- aaaaggghh the music holy shit

- i love how the fight scenes progress through the volumes it’s so cool

- the parallels between yang and adam are also really interesting. like their semblances, their tendency to lead with strong emotions. interesting

- ooooo he doesn’t like when they look at each other hehehehehe SHE HAS A GIRLFRIEND NOW BITCH HAHA

- HOLDING HAANDSSS THEYRE SO GAY

- he’s so basic too. like he looks like a frat boy.

- y’all do your jobs. there’s a big water boy coming but you don’t know cause you’re too busy being goddamn bootlickers

- oscar is so smart and ruby is so brave i love themmm

- uh oh cordo it’s a ruby speech watch out

- ya she is nuts

- THEYRE GONNA WIN CAUSE THEYRE IN LOVE

- ya but you’re a bitch adam and yang is fuckin amazing

- I LOVE THIS FIGHTTTT

- yeet the blake

- FUCK YEAH YANG GET HIM

- i fucking love that they killl him with the pieces of blake’s weapon. like there’s something to that. they kill him with the pieces of a thing he destroyed

- if he wasn’t dead enough he got crunched too

- I LOVE THEM

- hahahahaaaaa cordo they got you

- yeah cordo!!! argus is danger cause you were more worried about fucking “proving the might of atlas” or whatever against some teenagers you fool

- ohhhh shiiiittt cinder’s atlas outfit!! they’re going to a super cold snowy place and cinder said you know what i should wear short shorts and a sleeveless top with super tall boots and a lil cape. that’ll work. and she’s right. it does. have i mentioned i love cinder?

- uh oh big boy swims watch out

- cordo shut up this your own fuckin hubris

- god cordo’s desperation is so heartbreaking

- when are people gonna learn to trust ruby and her friends man

- their willingness to keep fighting and risk their lives and also a Ruby Speech(TM) made cordo believe in them which i love

- i love jinn she likes lil ruby and her friends

- hi summerrrr

- cordoooo i’m so proud of you. she gave up part of this insane symbol of atlas’s power to help ruby and her friends. like she put aside her own ego and i’m so proud of her

- fuck yeah!!!

- awww such a good uncle

- damnnn atlas is gorgeous

- even mercury is terrified by salem’s weird grimm shit

- the fuckin wicked witch with her flying gorillas

[sacredvein]

POST 3-5 SONGS THAT REMIND YOU OF YOUR MUSE. 

REPOST, DON’T REBLOG.

Tagged by: @fanatiquee​ (thank you! it was especially nice to see your personalized analysis)

Tagging: @thenew-evil​ | @vyrulent​ (anita) | @fulguritte​ | @everarddelanden​ | @perladivenezia​ | @deromanum​ | @nanlanmo

Most of his songs are instrumentals, so this was a challenge ! As a whole, they have the right kind of rough-cut edge, caught between something dreamlike and manic. I’m not surprised to find how most of the lyrics focus on the pathways in life, the shattering of faith and structure, of being lost - or abandoned.

The Vampyre of Time and Memory - Queens of the Stone Age

I want God to come and take me home 'Cause I'm all alone in this crowd Who are you to me? Who am I supposed to be? Not exactly sure anymore Where's this going to? Can I follow through? Or just follow you for a while?

Inexplicable - The Correspondents

Inexplicably high, inexplicably low I think I know what I want but I don't know where to go And all the while it seems that I'm living in my dreams Not in the now, no, not in the now

Now my hands are pulling at the donkey's reins I feel I've gone the wrong route down a dusty lane The grass could have been greener down the first road I took I'd give half my happiness just for one look 

There Will Be Blood - Faunts

I said there will be blood Before you come of age I said there will be blood When the rats can free the maze I promised very much But you’ll be left out in the rain Then you’ll know just how it feels When you call on Jesus’ namе One day, I know, you’ll leave us and things won’t bе quite the same The birds move on, the trees they turn, the seasons change

Jupiter - James McAlister

By Jove and by surprise The current of lightning filled with light It burned his hands with symbols White noise as Lucifer The sacred fire, the sacred fern Conceived with holy water

His radiance in the dark Mysterious shape or beauty mark As if it were Minerva Breastplate of Jupiter The hovering deep, as he spoke the word The light, the virgin creature All dreams of all disease are fantasy features, first conceived Illusions worth remembering Our father late at night, forbidding death, he kissed the light

Depraved - Mammals

Lay down the head on the floor It cracks so bare on the way Lay like a flood spills away Way as a wall stains

I like it when the night Entraps the colors away What is a breath behind your neck We are the ones that stay

And I'll be watching as you waste through the ground

[builder051]

Whumptober 2020 day 30: wound reveal

Nat on fire

Gun violence and civilian death TW.  Also general Nat on fire TW junk such as barely mentioned ED and toxic relationships.

___________

For once, she gets to wear her proper uniform on her solo mission.  Assassinating her target in his office building as he pulls an all-nighter doesn’t require temptation or disguise, only stealth.  It’s a relief to Nat as she pulls on her black catsuit, perfectly tight around the waist, form-fitting around her thighs.  

It’s a new suit, slightly smaller than her last one.  Maria grumbled about the cost when she put in the order, but Nat knew what she meant was concern for her health.  Or maybe something else.  

Nat likes how she looks, legs a bit slimmer, tits less bodacious, but it’s clear that Maria doesn’t. Last time she pushed Nat into the broom closet outside her office, she’d sighed when she’d gotten her hand inside Nat’s bra.  It’d been a push-up.  

But Nat has no time to perseverate now.  She slips on her widow’s bites, packs her guns in their holsters, and heads out to the sleek black sports car waiting for her in the back parking lot.  

The target’s building is barely four blocks away, but she’d look ridiculous walking down the street, even under the cover of night.  Nat pulls into the fire lane behind the small skyscraper and leaves the car running, challenging herself to be in and out before she gets caught.

With Fury in her ear and a heat tracker on her wrist, it takes Nat under a minute to locate the target in his office on the tenth floor.  She takes the stairs, silently easing the heavy doors open and stepping quickly in her high rubber-soled boots.  

Once she reaches the proper location, Nat sinks to her knees so as not to be seen through the half windows that overtake the wall to the target’s office.  He seems to have the whole floor to himself in one huge room full of expensive-looking cherry wood furniture.  He himself, looking all the exhausted CFO, sits at his desk and taps away on a wireless keyboard, his suit jacket on the back of his chair and his tie undone and dangling over one shoulder. 

“You sure it’s him?” Nat whispers over her comm.  “He looks like a sad dad.”

“He’s swindling half the company’s money over to HYDRA,” Fury replies.  “And he’s single.  No girlfriend.  Not even a dog.”

“Ok.”  Nat shrugs.  She presses her comm to turn down the volume, then pulls out her gun.

She stands up silently, then flings herself forward through the office door.  Nat drops into a forward roll and crouches in front of the desk, just out of the target’s line of sight.

“Who’s there?” the man calls, standing up and scanning the room.

Nat springs to her feet and holds her weapon out in front of her.  There’s a slight tremor in her gloved hand, so she adds the other to stabilize her grip.

In that split second of hesitation, the target reaches into his desk drawer and pulls out a knife.  He throws himself forward, sliding on his stomach over the top of his desk and thrusts the blade into Nat’s stomach.  At first it doesn’t penetrate the thick leather of her suit, but with his entire weight behind it, the knife forces its way through the protective layer and descents a few inches into her flesh.

Nat hisses through clenched teeth.  The target’s head is practically against her chest, and she wastes no time in pressing her gun to it.  She pulls the trigger, and a smattering of hair and blood suddenly decorate the wall before her.

The target falls on top of the desk, sending framed photos and an assortment of knick knacks tumbling to the floor.  Nat leaps backward and continues to move toward the door.  She’s fairly sure the building is otherwise empty, but it’s still good to make a quick getaway.  Especially since when she glances down, a thin trail of blood is slowly dripping down her abdomen and threatening to bead up and hit the floor.

Nat opts for the elevator to take her back to the ground floor.  The car is waiting right where she left it, and she slides into the driver’s seat with a grunt of effort.  She grits her teeth in pain as she tries to fasten her seatbelt, then ultimately decides to drive without it.  

Once she’s back at SHIELD, Nat opens the car door and immediately doubles over.  The urge to vomit from the pain is upon her, though she knows there’s nothing to expel.  Food hasn’t exactly been her friend lately, especially before missions.  Nat’s fairly sure the knife in her gut has missed everything vital, but she still expects to see blood pour from between her lips as a retch tears out of her.  She spits out a mix of bile and foamy saliva, then takes a deep breath and forces herself out of the car on shaky legs.

Nat knows medical ought to be her first stop, but she heads to the locker room instead.  She wants to at least wash out her mouth before she breathes sick into the face of the technician.  

Nat opens her locker and locates a bottle of Scope, then unzips the top of her suit, peels out her arms, and ties them under the band of her sports bra.  Goosebumps rise on her slightly sweaty skin and the tremor in her limbs kicks up a notch or two.  

“What happened to you?”  Maria steps out of the shadows and approaches Nat, hands on her hips.  She’s partially out of uniform as well, wearing her navy blue trousers and black boots, but with a sheer white camisole instead of her long-sleeved battle dress top.

“Nothing I can’t take,” Nat mumbles, turning back toward her locker.

“C’mere,” Maria says, reaching for Nat’s shoulder.

Nat cringes.  She’s covered in cold sweat.  Her throat burns.  The knife still embedded in her skin bumps slightly against the door of her locker, and a lightning bolt of pain shoots from behind Nat’s navel to the top of her head.

“Don’t shy away from me.”  It’s meant to sound like sweet talk.  But Nat knows it’s a command.

Nat grits her teeth in pain and displeasure.  She knows there’s no getting away, not now.  Not anymore.  She should’ve gone to medical first.

Nat slowly turns, holding her hand loosely in front of the knife’s handle so as not to jostle it again.

“Really skewered yourself, huh?”  Maria shakes her head.  

“Not on purpose,” Nat mumbles.

“Guess I have to wait for you till you’re stitched up.”

Nat’s heart sinks.  It’s already nearing midnight.  She doesn’t feel well.  A forced date with Maria is the last thing she wants tonight.

“What did you...have in mind?”  Nat stops to catch her breath.

“What’re you willing to give?”

“Goodnight kiss?” Nat says hopefully.  Though the thought of pressing her mouth against the dregs of Maria’s artificially minty lipstick make her want to vomit all over again.

Maria sighs.  Smirks.  Shrugs one shoulder.  “Rain check.”

Nat bites her lip until she tastes blood.  She could report Maria for harassment.  She could put a stop to this.  Get her fired.  But what would that do to the team?  What would it do to Fury?  She’s not sure she can bring herself to do it.

“Fine,” Nat mutters.  She puts the mouthwash back and shuts her locker.  “I’m going to medical.” 

“Want a chaperone?”

“I’m a big girl.”  The truth is the knife wound fucking hurts.  She’s tired, and she still feels sick.  Nat doesn’t want Maria to see her wince.

“Tomorrow,” Maria says, sounding disappointed.  “I’ll be in early if you need help changing your wound dressing.”

“Sure...” Nat knows she doesn’t have a choice.  “I gotta get dressed, so...”  She makes a vague motion toward herself.

Maria steps forward and takes Nat by the shoulders.  She jams her lips against Nat’s, shoving her tongue into her mouth and hanging on longer than is necessary or comfortable.

“Goodnight,” Nat whispers when they finally separate.  She feels sick, and she wants to get out of there as soon as possible.  But she needs Maria to leave first.

“See you.”  Maria grins.  

Once she’s gone, Nat feels tears prickle at the corners of her eyes.  She stands there in the darkened locker room and counts to sixty, then turns and heads out herself.  No sooner has she opened the door out to the hall, though, than she sees none other than Steve Rogers pacing quickly toward her.

He stops.  Cocks his head.  “What’s up?”

Her body reacts before her brain, and without thinking, Nat grasps the handle of the knife, yanks it from her stomach, and throws herself at Steve.  He immediately wraps his arms around her. She begins to sob into his chest.

[athingthatwantsvirginia]

Oliver Twist and Little Orphan Annie

PART TWENTY OF THE DO YOU SEE HER FACE? SERIES

Pairing: Jess Mariano x Original Character (Ella Stevens)

Warnings: discussions of physical/emotional abuse, anxiety about future, serious angst, plentiful pop culture references

Word Count: 5.8K

Summary: As graduation approaches, Ella and Jess paint a room, and attend a party.

“How have you never painted a room before?” Ella asked, tiling her head at Jess as she guided his hand, armed with a roller, up and down.

A creamy white streaked the wall in stark contrast with the old color, giving off pungent fumes. Her one window was opened all the way, letting in the late May air. Rain poured on Stars Hollow, a thunderstorm which brought humidity and lightning. The sky had faded to a dark greenish-gray, a dull bruise. But Ella felt her spirits lifted high. Lorelai had paint leftover from redoing the Independence Inn following the fire, and she’d given it all to Ella. Sometimes, she didn’t know what she would do without the Gilmore matriarch. If she had to stay in her room during college, the least she could do was have a new mural. Three of the walls would be soft eggshell, while she had yet to decide the exact design of the one behind her bed. She had a lot of purple to use, and was thinking something floral. But the base coat was all they needed for the day.

Jess had volunteered rather than been recruited, but it quickly became clear to Ella that he had no idea what he was doing. His first few strokes were patchy at best, textured at worst. She was thankful Luke hadn’t gotten a new apartment back when they were thinking of moving. The plan then had been to have Jess paint it. Ella could only imagine the quarrels which would have ensued. As she guided Jess’s hand, she maneuvered around the mattress in the center of the room, piled high with almost all her belongings and surrounded by layers of plastic to protect the carpet.

“We can’t all be Michelangelo,” he quipped, frustrated with his clear incompetence. In theory, painting a room evenly wasn’t hard. But, a perpetual renter, he had zero experience. Theory was proving much different than practice.

Ella snorted a laugh. “Jess, it’s not the Sistine Chapel. You’re painting one wall with one color.”

“Easy for you to say. You paint all the time.”

She rolled her eyes. “You didn’t have to help. Just don’t apply too much pressure. We’ll have to do a few coats, but that’s the only way to make it look good.”

“I’ll do my best,” Jess grumbled as she stepped away from him, going to her own paint tray and prepping her roller for the wall next to his.

“I know you will, James Dean,” Ella said, more sincerely than he was expecting.

Smiling a tiny smile, Jess glanced over his shoulder at her. Her hair, held away from her face in a black bandana, fell down her back. The old Pixies t-shirt she wore rose up as she reached high on her tiptoes, exposing the dimples in her back, above the waistband of her worn jeans. His stomach buzzed with pleasant butterflies as he turned back to the wall.

“You write your speech yet?” Jess asked, breaking the comfortable silence.

Groaning playfully, Ella shook her head more to herself than to Jess. “No. Not quite ready to pretend to have some inspiring message about the last four years. Also, I’m pretty sure my speech is going to be the last one. I’ll have to follow whatever those student government kids have to say.”

“Well, graduation is still three weeks away. You’ve got some time, Miss Valedictorian,” he said.

“One of four valedictorians,” she reminded him, her tone dismissive. “With the lowest GPA of all four.”

“How many times, Eleanor? It’s still a huge deal.”

“Yeah, whatever,” she said, breathing a soft sigh.

Before Jess could speak again, a quiet knock sounded on the door. Ella’s father didn’t wait to be invited in before he opened the door. Both of them turned and Jess could almost see Ella’s body turn rigid. Jess bit his lip again and put his paint roller down in his tray as Jake Stevens began to speak.

“Hey, Ellie, how’s it going in here?” Jake asked.

“Fine,” Ella shrugged, gazing around the room. “Should be done by tomorrow or day after next.”

Jake nodded. “Good. Don’t want the house smelling like this forever.”

“Right,” she said. “I just figured...white will be a better color for a guest room when I move out, and with the pink gone only one wall will need painting by then.”

“But that won’t be for a while, right?” Jake said, eyebrows raised.

There was almost a warning tone in his voice, Jess thought. In the interactions he’d seen between Ella and her father, it was never blatant. Jake never said anything overtly cruel or malicious, but it was in the way he said things. Like he knew there was nothing his daughter could do to get out from under his thumb. Like he could forever bind her to the role her mother used to fill, the chores and the emotional labor, while still ignoring her as if she didn’t live in the room right next to his. It was such an odd dichotomy.

Jess could definitely understand having a parent who was often neglectful, but there was a strange, controlling element to Jake’s behavior which Jess had never experienced himself. Many of Liz’s boyfriends (and sometimes fiancés, and sometimes husbands) were addicts with less than friendly personalities. But they were never around long enough to establish true manipulation of him. Instead, Jess would fight with them (more often than not, to protect Liz) until they got fed up and left. Then, Liz would blame him for driving the guy away and the cycle would begin again. The last time he’d gotten into a scrap with one of her men, punches had been thrown. Jess had even landed a few himself, but his fighting back proved to be the final straw for Liz. Instead of watching the man walk away from her, she’d sent Jess to Luke. But, of course, she’d moved onto the next one by the time Jess returned to New York following the accident with Rory’s car.

Those men, their main weapon was fear. But Ella’s father wielded guilt instead. He used his words, how he said them, and small actions disguised as discipline, instead of his fists. He loomed over his daughter coldly. She didn’t often talk about it, but Jess knew Ella’s father had slapped her at least once as a child, for talking back to him at the dinner table. She’d made the comment off-handedly, as though it was nothing. As though all parents kept their kids in line using such methods. And she claimed her father hadn’t touched her in anger since, that things were getting better between them, that her father had a hard childhood of his own and he had learned to parent in an abusive environment. But touch wasn’t always the vehicle for household violence. A family could have some kind of love without it being a healthy kind of love. It wasn’t dramatic, he didn’t witness any blow-outs. And though Jake always had a beer in hand when he was home, Ella only shook her head when Jess brought it up, told him her father never got blackout drunk anymore. Not since Fiona came around. But the subtle, warning tone was always there. And Jess could see shades of it every time Jake and Ella spoke to each other.

“Yeah,” Ella said, offering a weak smile. “Not for a while. But I’ll be thanking myself in four years.”

“Smart,” Jake agreed, nodding. Then, he turned to Jess: “And how are you, young man? No college plans I hear?”

“No,” Jess said, shaking his head. “Personally, I think I’m better equipped for trades.”

Again, Jake nodded slowly, keeping his eyes on Jess. “I suppose only time will tell, won’t it?”

“Yes. Yes, it will,” Jess said shortly.

Jake smiled thinly. “Well, I can’t wait to see the room when it’s done. As you were, kids.”

“Thanks, Dad,” Ella said, picking her roller back up as her father shut the door behind him.

Swallowing dryly, she took a second to listen to the rain outside. She flexed her free hand once and then got back to work, humming a Fleetwood Mac song under her breath. Jess watched, hesitant to say a word. Slowly, he began to paint again, rollers squeaking quietly against the walls.

“I hate it when he calls me ‘young man,’” he said, trying to keep his tone light.

She scoffed. “Wow, I’m shocked.”

“Yes, I’m very unpredictable,” he quipped. “There you go, type-casting me again.”

“Hey, I can’t help it if you’re James Dean back from the dead,” she teased, smirking over at him. “Speaking of which, are you too cool for the party next weekend, or are you gonna come watch Lane play with me?”

Running his free hand over his mouth, Jess locked eyes with her, looking over his shoulder again. “Depends. Are we gonna go make fun of everything like we’re gonna do at prom?”

Ella nodded. “Everything except the music. You can come be a Grinch with me, just like at the diner on Christmas.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

“And you don’t get to complain about my driving at prom. It’ll be a station wagon instead of a limo, since your rust bucket is gone,” Ella reminded him. Three weeks prior, Jess had walked out of the diner one morning and found his car gone. He had heard no leads about it since.

He sighed through his nose. “Whatever you say, soccer mom. I’ll get the tickets this week.”

“Okay, but I’m paying you back for mine.”

“If you insist,” he shrugged.

“I do.”

His eyes lingered on her a moment longer as she reached high on the wall. Sidestepping his painting tray, he brought a gentle hand to the small of her back and pressed a kiss to her cheek. Scrunching up her nose, she chuckled and told him not to distract her. And he went back to work laughing.

.   .   .

Though there were rips in her fishnets, Ella felt an added, confident skip to her step as she passed town square. The Spring Fling festival banner was still hung over the gazebo, though it had ended with a parade the night before. Bunches of flowers still lined the streets, beginning to wilt in the heat of May. In the back of her mind, she worried vaguely about her dark eye makeup melting off in the sunshine. Her Doc Martens squeaked on the tile floor of Luke’s as she waltzed in, breathing a small sigh at the gust of cool air conditioning. She smoothed down her black floral dress, blowing loose strands of hair, which had fallen from her half-up, half-down look, away from her freckled cheeks.

Only a few customers peppered the red tables, and no one occupied the counter. Luke scribbled on his pad as he stood behind the ancient register, preparing to close.

“Hey, Luke,” she called, smiling slightly at him.

He mumbled a greeting to her, not glancing up. Ella scoffed out a laugh at his disinterest, and didn’t bother asking if it was alright before going behind the curtain and trudging up the stairs. He’d been acting off lately, and though she wondered if it was something to do with his lawyer lady friend, she knew better than to ask. She’d spent the afternoon before visiting Julie in New Britain, and he seemed to have cooled off at least a little since she’d last seen him. Granted, it had been a Thursday, inventory day. One could always expect a fair amount of open hostility from Luke on inventory day. Ella could hear the sound of the Sex Pistols before she even neared the apartment door. Only knocking twice, and assuming she wouldn’t be heard over the music anyway, she stepped into the apartment. Jess sat up in his bed, reading Dead Souls, brows furrowed in concentration in spite of the noise.

Smirking, she came over and turned down the music to half volume. He only looked up to see her as Johnny Rotten got quieter, and blinked in surprise at her. She set her bag shoulder bag down on the worn wooden floor and sat at the end of the bed, legs hanging off the side.

“Hey, James Dean,” she said. “More light reading?”

He shrugged. “Seems that way.”

Clicking her tongue, she shook her head to herself. “I can just never stomach the Russians.”

Finally, one corner of his mouth quirked slightly upward. “So unrefined.”

She shrugged. “Maybe someday you’ll convert me.”

“Someday.” Jess put his book on the nightstand and ran a hand over his mouth. “You look ready to rock and roll all night and party every day.”

Rolling her eyes, Ella ignored the (millionth) KISS joke and cast her eyes down to her outfit once more. “Thanks. I was going for sort of a Winona Ryder thing.”

“Aren’t you always?”

“That I am,” she smiled, standing from the bed and holding a hand out to him. “We gotta go if we want to see the full set.”

Sighing through his nose, he grabbed her hand to pull himself up and nodded.

“Oh, and I finished my speech today,” she said as she watched him go over to the dresser to change out of the shirt he’d worn on shift and into his Metallica tee.

“Huh.”

“If you wanna read it before graduation, I can give you inside access,” she teased. “Or you can be surprised at the actual ceremony.”

“As long as it doesn’t mention me,” he muttered as he changed and checked his hair in the mirror.

She snorted a laugh. “Don’t flatter yourself, Mariano.”

Watching his reflection in the mirror, she saw a half hearted smirk cross his face. It didn’t reach his eyes. He ran a hand over his mouth again as he appraised his reflection, and Ella’s brows furrowed in concern.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

He turned back to her and gave an unconvincing nod. “Fine.”

“Really? We don’t have to go if you’re not okay, y’know. I mean, I want to see Lane play, but in general I think parties are meaningless excuses for teenage debauchery.”

Jess didn’t look back at her when he spoke, turning off his music and going over by the door to grab his shoes. “We’re going. I know how much you wanna see Lane.”

Biting the inside of her cheek, she noticed the storms brewing in his brown eyes. His face was slightly pale. He looked exhausted. When he straightened up, shoes on, she went over and put her hand to his cheek.

“Do you feel sick?” she asked, feeling him lean into her touch though he wasn’t feverish. “You were fine Thursday night, but you closed alone. Did you get to sleep afterwards? I know sometimes if you work too late you can’t get to sleep-“

“Eleanor,” he cut her off, his voice tired, “I’m fine. Let’s just go. Please.”

Raising at a hesitant brow at the shortness of his tone, she bit her tongue and nodded slowly. He certainly didn’t seem fine, but they would be late if they waited much longer. And Lane was counting on her being there. Jess grabbed her hand and led her out of the apartment. And when he felt her give his hand a reassuring squeeze, he had to swallow down the myriad of emotions which rose in his throat.

.   .   .

Lane’s band, which still had yet to earn a name, got through the first set with little to no bumps in the road. The living room was stuffy, a suburban wet dream filled to the brim with drunk students. An ever-present smile shone on Ella’s face as she watched her friend banging it out on the drums, despite how much she disliked the stickiness of the atmosphere. She knew how much Lane had always wanted this, her own band, her own instrument. As they finished up with their first thirty minutes, having announced an intermission, Dave Rygalski walked by her, Jess, and Rory with a nod. Ella was glad Jess and Dave had been getting along so well. If Jess was going to stay in Stars Hollow for the foreseeable future, he had to have some other friends besides her and Rory. As soon as Lane hopped up from her drums, she came squealing over to the three of them in excitement, engulfing Rory in a hug. However, before she had too much of a chance to babble about the set, Dave whisked her away for a private conversation.

Rory smiled over at Jess and Ella weakly when she saw Dean nearing their vicinity with his new girlfriend, Lindsey, and quickly retreated to another room. Ella leaned back against Jess, who stood behind her, near the pristine couch, with his arms wrapped around her waist. She could feel his breathing against her back, smell his pine scent. And she thought for the first time in a very long time that the future might not just be survivable, but bright. Soon, she would be a high school graduate, be (tentatively) majoring in history, which had been her second-best subject in public school, still working at the diner. It wasn’t what her wildest dreams called for, but it certainly wasn’t bleak.

Jess’s breath was hot on her neck as he spoke into her ear, which was still buzzing from the loud music and the crowd. “You wanna go?”

She shook her head against his chest. “I think we should stay for the second set. And I haven’t even gotten a chance to talk to Lane yet. She’ll probably need my sage wisdom after whatever she and Dave are talking about.”

“Elle, I don’t-”

Before he could finish, he saw Dean and Lindsey heading directly for them.  Ella could feel Jess’s muscles instantly tense, his hands tightening around her own, his face stony. She knew how the feud started, with Dean trying to pull Jess away from a fight when Jess first came to town. But, then again, she had once gotten him off of Peter Smith. Only then, he didn’t take a swing at her like he had at Dean. If Jess hadn’t changed so much since then, and Dean hadn’t been such an asshole to Rory, she probably would’ve been on Dean’s side. But in the few times she’d heard Jess and Dean speak, she knew there was fault on both sides. And she was inclined to align with one of her best friends and her boyfriend before some possessive dick from Chicago.

“Hey, guys,” Dean began, his hand in Lindsey’s grasp as they ambled over. “Have you seen Rory?”

Ella actually liked Lindsey. They’d been acquaintances in high school (though in a class of only about seventy kids, one was usually acquaintances with everyone else), and had always thought her very sweet. And she could rock the bleach blonde look like no one else in their grade. It was certainly a style choice Ella could admire.  

Ella shrugged. “She’s around here somewhere. Why?”

“Just thought I’d say hello,” Dean replied, eyes searching the room for his ex-girlfriend, while his new girlfriend stood at his side.

“How sweet of you,” Jess said, venom in his voice.

Ella cleared her throat and pivoted the conversation before Dean could shoot anything back. “Yeah, anyway, you guys like the band?”

“Oh, they were great. I can’t say I recognized a lot of the songs, though,” Lindsey smiled, her voice light.

Nodding, Ella attempted a generous smile back. “Don’t feel bad. Lane knows every song in the English language. And some in pretty much every other language, too. There are bound to be some deep cuts in their repertoire, if she has any say in the set lists.”

Lindsey chuckled.

“So, Ella, I heard you’re going to Southern Connecticut State?” Dean asked, continuing the small talk despite the thick tension in the air.

Still, Ella forced a plastic smile on her face. She knew Rory wouldn’t want her causing any trouble, as the heartbreak was still so fresh. And she’d been able to master her people-pleasing artificiality after her years of serving Taylor at the diner.

“Yeah. Managed to score a spot.”

“Me too,” Dean said. “What are you going for?”

“History.”

“Oh, cool. I’m thinking maybe business, but I’m not entirely sure yet.” Dean had at some point focused his attention away from Ella and onto Jess, who still had his arms wrapped around Ella, watching the awkwardness silently. He just wanted whatever small town, false polite nonsense which was necessary to be over. “What about you, Jess?”

“Excuse me?”

“You’re not going to college or anything, right? Seems like you’re not going to school at all anymore, anyway.” Dean narrowed his eyes at Jess, and a momentary staring contest ensued.

Disentangling himself from Ella, Jess decided not to humor Dean’s attempt to rile him. “I’m gonna go check out the state of that bathroom line,” he muttered to Ella before trudging off.

Brows furrowing in concern, Ella's eyes lingered on him as he went, until he turned a corner and she lost sight of him. Huffing out an angry breath, she turned back to Lindsey, and Dean, who had a pleased expression on his face. Shaking her head, mostly to herself, she excused herself to go find Lane, maneuvering through the sweaty bodies and drunken mumbles.

.   .   .

Balmy air and crickets, Ella finally found Jess again out on the back porch. Most people were inside, gearing up for the band’s second set. She’d had to spend a pretty long time pulling a drunken Lane off the phone to her mother, aided by a still-shaken Rory. The evening seemed to have come to a screeching halt in the hour since the first set, and Ella was debating grabbing Jess’s hand and dragging him out. It was doubtful Lane would be conscious enough to make it through a song, let alone a second set. When Ella didn’t see his gelled black curls in the living room sea of teenage heads, she knew right where Jess would be. The night was pleasant, not quite too warm or humid, despite it being late May.

He stood with his forearms leaned against the railing, facing the lush green backyard, and he didn’t even look back when he heard her open and close the screen door. Ambling up next to him, her boots felt heavy on her feet. The air was cool on her hot skin, and the spring breeze blew her hair from her face. Arms against the polished wooden rail, mirroring him, she waited a few moments before finally speaking in a soft tone. She tilted her head to the red solo cup Jess held in his hands.

“Penny for a sip?” she asked.

Jess smirked. Saying nothing, he held the cup out to her. Taking a gulp of his slightly warm beer, she grimaced and then handed it back to him.

“Thank you, good sir.”

“Who are you? Oliver Twist?”

She shrugged, noncommittal. “Or Little Orphan Annie. Can’t keep my broadway straight. You could probably help me out.”

“Very funny, Stevens,” he said, a ghost of a smile on his face. But it didn’t meet his eyes. They lacked their usual sardonic sparkle, even in the glowing moonlight.

Leaning into his shoulder, Ella took in another deep breath of the fresh air. “What are you doing out here, James Dean? Did you not bring your sulking book?”

“Just couldn’t handle it inside.” He took another swig of his drink, emptying the cup, and set it carefully on the railing next to him.

“Was it Dean?” Ella asked, placing a hand on the back of his neck and running her fingers through the ends of his hair.

Jess glanced down at the ground with a bitter chuckle. “You think I actually care about Frankenstein’s monster in there?”

She scoffed knowingly. “Okay, fair enough. We can go soon, if you want. Lane’s wasted and Rory’s all messed up about Dean being here. And, I think I forgot to feed the cat? I have no idea why I let him stay in our house. He showed up right after my mom died, and kept hanging around our porch. He was already so old and he was so skinny. So I started letting him in when it got colder. My dad barely even noticed. I thought he’d be grateful, but now he hates us. Guess there was a lot of yelling and crying going on when he first came to live with us. But I suppose misery loves company-”

“I just…” Jess began, cutting off her rambling voice. He knew she was still waiting for an answer, but didn’t want to ask him another question. “You work your ass off for four years, and Dean still gets into the same college as you.”

Ella shrugged. “I don’t mind. There’s lots of people there. I probably won’t ever see him.”

“At least he’s finishing high school,” Jess muttered, shaking his head to himself and looking down at his hands, clenching and unclenching them in fists.

Brows furrowed, Ella’s hand fell from his skin and she tilted her head in askance. “What do you mean?”

He heaved a big sigh, looking out into the woods beyond the yard. Somewhere through the trees, he thought he could see the shine of the lake. An ache tugged at his heart, and his stomach did a flip before he spoke again.

“I went to get prom tickets when you were in the art room at lunch today. But then I got called to the principal’s office. He said I missed too many days.”

“And?”

Chewing on his bottom lip, he shook his head again. “Don’t make me say it, Elle.”

Pursing her lips, she brought her hands to her hips and nodded. “Guess you’ll need my speech in advance, then.”

“Guess so,” he echoed flatly, finally stealing a glance at her to gauge her reaction. With her strong stance, he could practically see the gears moving inside her head. There was a crease of concentration between her eyebrows, and she began biting at her nails absently.

“And you haven’t told Luke yet?” she asked.

“Nope.”

Again, she nodded, more decisive this time. “Okay...okay. I wish you could stay with me, but my dad will have you dead inside a day. I bet if you take twelfth grade over Luke’ll let you stay. I mean, I know he tries to act all tough, but I don’t know who he thinks he’s kidding.”

Jess straightened up again, running a hand over his mouth. He turned to face her. “I’m not going back to school. I can’t.”

“Of course you can, Jess. World bites you, you bite back.”

“Fine, then. I won’t.”

“Why not? Where are you gonna go?”

He could only shrug in response, looking back down at his shoes. Sometimes her gaze was so intense, even he couldn’t handle it. Usually, though, it was because of butterflies in his stomach, not because his heart was pounding nervously in his ears.

Swallowing dryly, she tried to maintain a calm facade. “No, Jess. You can’t do that Kerouac bullshit right now. You need a plan. I mean…” she paused to sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose. “You told me you had it under control. You told me all I had to do was trust you.”

Closing his eyes for a moment, he composed himself and then wiped all emotion from his face when he looked back up at her. “I thought I did. I didn’t know how many days I missed, alright? But who cares! I never learned anything there anyway! It was a waste of my time!”

“And driving that forklift at Walmart forever isn’t a waste of your time?” she retorted, beginning to raise her voice. “If it made you happy, I’d say go for it. But it doesn’t! You’re too fucking smart for your own good, Mariano! You’re meant to be a writer! And you’re gonna settle on wasting your brain just because you were too proud to repeat senior year?!”

“Don’t talk to me about settling!” he countered, shaking his head.

“Fuck you, Jess,” she said, eyes narrowing as more blood rushed to her face, turning her skin scarlet with frustration. “Not everyone can just go wherever they want! Live wherever they want! I have people I actually care about!”

Rubbing at his mouth again, he sighed. “Yeah, well, lucky you! My mother is a wackjob who shipped me off because her boyfriend of the week didn’t like me! And my father is a fucking loser who couldn’t say more than two words when he finally met me!”

Ella took a step back in surprise. “What are you talking about?”

Jess breathed another exhausted sigh. “On Thursday, after you left. While I was closing. My dad came in, saw me for the first time in eighteen years. He told me who he was, took a good long look at me, and then ran right back out of the diner!”

There was a seismic shift in her face, eyes softening, color draining. Shaking her head, she went to touch his shoulder. “Oh my god, Jess. I didn’t-”

He shrugged off her hand. “Yeah, you didn’t know. Because I didn’t tell you. Because I’m just your deadbeat, high school dropout boyfriend who’s gonna work at Walmart for the rest of his life! How disappointing!”

“That’s not what I said!” she exclaimed, swallowing back the sting of tears in her eyes.

“Yeah, well, I can read between the lines pretty well at this point, honey,” he shot back, with a vicious, contemptuous tone.

Biting the inside of her cheek, she tried to remain calm. She tried to remember Jess had just failed senior year and met his dad for the first time in a span of two days. But, as always, the fire in her stomach won. It was something about the way he looked at her. So cold. Like he felt nothing for her at all. Her heart dropped and she began to back away, towards the screen door.

“Fine. Fuck it! Go and find yourself. While I stay here, and think about what a fucking mistake it was to trust you when we said no cop-outs! Serves me right. Holden fucking Caulfield!” she shouted, slamming the sliding door behind her.

Raking a hand through his messy hair, Jess took no more than one moment of hesitation before rushing after her. It was crowded inside, people standing around waiting for a second set which would likely never be played. After a little frantic searching and weaving through smelly bodies, he found her. She was marching up the stairs to find Rory, who stood looking exceedingly uncomfortable speaking with Dean and Lindsey on the landing. Ella tugged on Rory’s sleeve, muttering something about finding Lane and leaving the drums to pick up later. A scowl crossed her face the moment she looked back to see Jess.

“Did he do something, Ella?” Dean piped up, towering over her and casting an authoritative glance at Jess.

Ella snorted a laugh and shook her head. “You can stand down, Dean. He did nothing. Nothing at all. Fuck off, alright, Mariano?”

Catching the finitive, vitriolic tone in Ella’s voice, Jess shook his head back at her. Apparently she had decided the conversation was over. “Right back at ya, then, Stevens.”

But as he went to leave, Dean kicked into action. Before Ella, Rory, or Lindsey, could grab him and pull him back, he went into full testosterone rage and lunged after Jess, turning him about and clocking him square across the face. Ella watched in horror, and immediately went after them. Confusion painted her face. She heard Dean muttering under his breath as he fought, about what an asshole Jess was, about how Rory’s friends were his responsibility too, and they shouldn’t be spoken to that way. About how it was time Jess got a taste of his own medicine, making him feel like an idiot in class and acting like he was too good for Stars Hollow. She’d never had any classes with Dean and Jess, but the altercation made her wonder how deeply the feud ran. Apparently, much deeper than she ever thought. If not for the urgency of the situation, Ella would have rolled her eyes harder than she had prior known was humanly possible. She couldn’t help but wonder what at all Rory or Lindsey saw in that sexist prick. In Ella’s opinion, the Donna Reed Show incident two years earlier should’ve been the end of the relationship.

All around the house, they fought, various others trying to pull them off of each other. Each time Ella thought she had an opening to grab Dean or Jess around the waist, they moved, jostling around. It was far more intense than the quarrel in the schoolyard had been. No, tonight there would be blood drawn. Finally, after a decent amount of carnage to the mid-century Connecticut two-story, someone managed to throw the two of them out onto the front lawn, still at each other’s throats. Ella yelled endlessly for them to stop, but neither listened. Only the sound of the police sirens approaching, red and blue lights flashing on the manicured grass, finally made them separate, a few boys at the party also aiding the effort.

Just as Ella started rushing over to Jess, Lane began vomiting up the shitty keg beer she’d gulped down all night long into the trimmed bushes. Rory was by her side, but ultimately Ella cast only a sympathetic glance their way before continuing after Jess. She caught up with him a few paces down the sidewalk, grabbing the sleeve of his t-shirt to finally stop him.

“Jess, Jesus, are you okay?” she demanded, trying to get a substantial glimpse at his face.

Once again, he shook off her touch. He turned back to her in the light of the sheriff’s car, eyes darker than she had ever seen them. “Get outta here, Eleanor! I don’t need your help!”

“But, your-”

“Stop, Elle, just stop!” he interrupted, gesturing with his arms and practically bursting with anger. “Stop chasing after me! Stop trying to help me! That’s over! I don’t need it, alright? You can just fucking stop!”

Clutching at her necklace, she felt a heavy weight settle in her stomach, gluing her to the spot where she stood, hazel eyes impossibly wide. Watching him go, watching him disappear around a corner, watching him walk away. And the worst part was how unsurprised she felt. Had it always been this way? Him ready to leave at a moment’s notice, and her stuck in her old, familiar ways? Were they bound to end the moment they began? She should have seen it sooner. Suddenly, the sounds of the siren and the singing of late spring crickets overwhelmed her ears, and she could do nothing but stand motionless, feeling a sharp crack in her heart.

[saltfics]

“You’re panicking?! I’m the one who got fucking *insert injury*!”

Blood, Gore & Injury Sentence Starters Thanks for the ask @bibliothesoph !! I made an Ao3 work for this and future sentence prompts here! But the whole fic is posted under the keep reading as well!

If you want to go really hard on the appreciation, you can tip your fellow writer here. Hope you enjoy!!

 Having famous last words is one way to go down in history. It’s not even just the profound ones that get all the credit. Sometimes, the ones remembered are those that were so cocky and topped with just the right amount of irony to be rendered iconic.  Alex has never forgotten John Sedgwick since he learned about him, not because of his great work as a military officer, but because he had the gall to say ‘they couldn’t shoot an elephant from that distance’. And then they did. 

Alex thinks he has a high chance of going down the same way. In fact, his last words might turn out to be, I can run that fast.

The light for the pedestrians switches from green to red just as he steps on the crossing, but the cars are still far away. Henry’s waiting for him outside the university library, and Alex is already twenty minutes late. I can run that fast, he thinks and dashes instead of stepping back. He doesn’t notice the car that’s mid-turn, a turn that’s far closer thanwhat he based his calculations on. I can run that fast. 

Famous last words.

There’s a precise moment when he realizes he’s completely fucked up, and he wastes one whole sixteenth of a second hoping it’s not the last time he ever gets to fuck up like that. He’s in the middle of the street, too far in to back away, too far away to make it to the other side. It’s a two-car lane. If he takes a step back, there’s something coming his way. If he takes a step forward, there’s another car coming his way. If he stays there  … Fucking fuckity fuck.

If he dies, Henry’s going to murder him.

Metal connects to his side and all that crap about your life flashing before your eyes? It’s still crap, but later he’ll swear time does slow down for him to think. Or his mind goes into overdrive. Same difference. He feels the first slam and he thinks, hey that wasn’t that bad.  He can’t see around him, can’t register his surroundings but he still manages one single, impossible thought in the middle of disaster: Brace yourself. You still have to land.

And maybe that’s why when he does fall on the asphalt, a good two feet away from where the car hit the breaks, his hands are out to protect his face. When his vision returns, he’s on his hands and knees in the middle of the street, his palms stinging from the rough slap against the asphalt. His legs are spread behind him and his backpack is too heavy on his back, pulling him to the side.

Alex is breathing hard, trying to take mental stock of his body. He’s afraid to try moving his legs, but he’s still in the middle of the fucking road, one of the lanes paused because of his stupidity. Okay, okay, he has to move.

He searches his body for any extreme aches that should cause him to panic, but the adrenaline must still be pumping through him because he doesn’t feel any pain. Relief spikes through him for a second. He’s fine. He’s actually fine. Henry’s not going to kill him. June is not going to have his head.

Then he actually tries pushing himself to his feet. Shit, nope, he’s wrong. He’s very wrong. Fuck.

Pain strikes, angry and bright like lightning up his leg, the second he considers putting some weight on it. The effect on him is still blurred, his mind reeling too much to properly panic or wonder what that means.

He doesn’t register the people walking towards him until two sets of hands grab his arms, while a third pries his backpack from his shoulders to lessen his load. Together they guide him to the nearest sidewalk. Alex is sure he says something to them. Thank you, or sorry, or an endless stream of both mixed together into a string of mumbled nonsense.

“Dude, are you okay?” one of the guys supporting him says.

“You should have been more careful,” reprimands the lady who’s still holding his bag. “Why did you cross like that?”

They lower him down into a sitting position again now that he’s not obstructing traffic anymore, and Alex’s head is starting to return to him. A small crowd is gathered around him, talking to him, asking him if he needs anything, but mostly just looking on, curious and worried in equal measure. He looks around for his backpack again, just to make sure it’s nearby. His laptop, including his fresh 25-page paper is in there and he has his priorities straight, damn it. 

He catches a glimpse of what he’s pretty certain is the car that slammed into him drive away as soon as the street is free again. Fucker.

“We should call an ambulance!”

“Should we drive you somewhere?”

“Is there anyone I can call for you, honey?”

That’s when his mind actually connects. “Oh, shit! Henry! Where’s my phone? I-I was holding it? Fuck, is it still on the street?” One of the guys who helped him pushes his phone into his hands. Alex is pretty sure he’s in his class. Shit, he needs to learn his name. Why is he such an ass with this stuff? “Thanks, man,” Alex offers him a guilty smile. “I’m—I’m good. I’m good, everyone! Thank you so much! I’ll just call my boyfriend to-to pick me up! It’s—”

“Alex?”

“Or he’ll find me first.”

The crowd parts as Henry pushes his way through, and soon starts to scatter. The lady hands his backpack to Henry as she leaves, and he accepts it, confused. Alex watches as Henry’s eyes roam over him, widening as he takes him in, sitting on the dirty sidewalk, his leg spread out carefully, his clothes rumpled. And he’s grateful there’s a lack of carnage on him, no blood or torn clothes, that he’s just mildly disheveled, because he can’t imagine putting Henry through that.

Well, he’s also grateful he didn’t die, but again, priorities.

“Alex, what happened?” Henry asks, crouching next to him. He pushes a tangled mess of curls away from his face, letting his hand rest on his cheek. “Why are you on the ground? Are you okay?”

Okay, shit, how does he tell his beautiful, barely calm boyfriend that he was stupid enough to get slammed by a car in one of the busiest streets in New York? “Uh, okay, don’t freak out.” Which is the wrong thing to say, and the fastest way to get Henry to do just that.

“What? Why? What’s wrong? Can you get up? Are you hurt?”

“Yes. And yes. Actually, I think. I don’t know.”

“Alex…  what?”

Alex groans. His leg is still throbbing in a steady pulse, but that’s about it. Even his hands have stopped stinging. “Help me up? Please?”

Henry nods, still confused and Alex doesn’t want to exchange the confusion with whatever’s going to come next. He wonders how much he can play the injury off. He can say he tripped, and with his level of injuries it’ll probably be believable but he doesn’t want to lie to Henry. If it was the other way around…

Alex hisses the moment he’s on his feet. Henry fumbles to readjust his grip on his arms, squeezing a bit too tight as if Alex might break if he doesn’t hold on with all he has. “Shit, sorry. I, uh, okay. So, I had a little accident.”

“You—what kind of accident?” The color washes from Henry’s face as he pulls him closer, shifting his arms so one of them is around Alex’s back instead. “What happened?”

“I’m okay, I promise! I was just really stupid. And crossed the street too carelessly and well…” he shrugs, giving a vague gesture towards his left leg.

Henry looks back towards the street for a moment, and when he turns back to Alex he looks like he’s the one who got struck. “That street?” he asks, voice small. “Are you okay? Are you—Okay, we need to go to the hospital. I’ll call Shaan to come pick us up, do you want to sit down again? Does it hurt? I’m sorry, I—”

Alex places both palms on the side of Henry’s face, stroking his cheeks with his thumbs. “Hey, hey. Look at me.”

Henry hesitates for a second. When those precious blue eyes turn to meet his own, hints of moisture linger in their corners. He’s much paler than he was when he arrived, and Alex wants so desperately to kiss some color back into those lips, watch a rosy pink dust his too cold cheeks.

“Baby…” he coos. “You’re panicking? I’m the one who got ironed. Breathe.”

Henry flinches, his face inching away from Alex’s hold. “Don’t use that word. That’s not funny.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he chuckles. “Would it help if I went to the hospital with you?”

“Would it help? Of course, you’re going to the hospital! ‘Would it help’, he says.”

There’s no chance in hell Henry is going to take no for an answer, so Alex waits for him to call Shaan, lets him help him to the car without any protest. On the way there he gets three phone-calls, the level of exasperation increasing with each one. Apparently one of those kind passerbys was also kind enough to post a photo of him on the sidewalk on his Twitter. His dad calls first to make sure he’s okay. Then June, who upon learning the location of the accident just responds with ‘and you’re still alive?’, which is fair but also very rude, though when he complains to Henry about it, he’s sure he must be using all his patience not to glare at him for the nonchalance. He’s definitely glaring when Zahra calls and Alex just hands the phone over to him with the biggest, most pleading eyes he can muster.

Other than that, Henry stays quiet, eyes glued up ahead and staring at nothing. One of his hands is holding Alex’s own and he squeezes it every few minutes like he’s trying to make sure Alex is still there. It’s scaring him a little, but no matter how many times he insists he’s okay, that it barely even hurts, Henry doesn’t relax. He turns to him, gives him a small, tense little smile, then resumes looking at nothing ahead of him.

It’s fine. They’ll go to the hospital, they’ll get some tests done, and Henry will see he’s in perfect health. Then they’ll go home and cuddle until he forgets how much his leg hurts.

Unless he has some internal bleeding. That would be unfortunate.

The hospital visit passes faster than even he could have predicted. After describing his symptoms, Alex is quickly examined by an orthopedist and taken for x-rays to make sure nothing is broken. Everything comes out clear and in an astonishing show of competency, they’re out of there less than two hours later. Hell, the waiting room took twice as long as the tests themselves.

They stop for some painkillers on the way home, and he’s all set. He won’t even have to miss a class.

But Henry doesn’t perk up with the news. His breathing calms and he gets a hint of color to his cheeks as they drive home, but he’s still quiet. Withdrawn. It hurts more than the leg.

David rushes to greet them when they return, all little jumps and wagging tails. Alex feels a pinch of hurt when Henry grabs the puppy before he can jump on him. He doesn’t reprimand him, of course. Henry never yells at David, not even when he chews on pages of his work that he was foolish enough to leave out, but he’s too listless to play with him either, and it’s that apathy that finally breaks Alex’s heart.

“Henry? Baby, talk to me,” he pleads, leaning on his good leg with one hand against the nearest wall. “I’m fine, so what’s wrong?”

Henry doesn’t look at him. “I’m going to take him out for a bit. We won’t take long. Maybe I can bring food on my way back? What do you feel like having?”

“Henry.”

“Is there anything you need before I leave? Water? Tea? Do you want me to help you up the stairs? Maybe we should just fix up the couch for tonight…”

Alex sighs, limping over to where Henry is still looking away from him, bent over to secure the leash on David’s collar. He wraps his arms around his waist and pulls him upright. “Sweetheart…” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the back of his neck, as he’s still turned the wrong way. “Please.”

It takes a lifetime to hear his voice. “You’re such an idiot,” Henry breathes, too shaky to hold any bite. He lets Alex turn him around and leans forward to press their foreheads together. “You’re such an arse.” He’s not crying, though he’s shaking, and Alex rubs some warmth up and down his arms, along his back. “Do you have any idea how lucky you got? That was a dangerous fucking street, Alex.”

It’s the lack of anger that truly does him in. Henry might be mad at him but it’s not enough to overpower the fear that’s been rooting within him for hours. “I’m sorry. I know. I’m so sorry.” Alex pulls back slightly to give him a soft smile. “Would it help if I said I was rushing because I was so desperate to see you?”

“Alex. ”

“Nope, I made it worse. Got it.” He presses a chaste kiss to his lips. “You’re right. I’m sorry. It was stupid, even for me. It won’t happen again, I promise. I’ll look both ways. Twice. I’ll fucking study physics to calculate the speed of cars versus my chance of running into them if I have to!” A smile trembles at Henry’s lips and Alex grins. “Watch me! Hey,” he says, softer now. He presses another kiss, this one to his cheek, smiling against him when Henry tilts his head towards the touch. “Anything to wipe that look off your face, and never have to see it again.”

“Thank you.”

“I’m sorry I worried you.”

“I know.”

David squeezes between their legs, pawing at Henry, nudging him with his nose.

Alex smiles. “It’s okay, buddy. I upset your daddy a little bit, but we’ll be fine. Right?”

Henry nods, bending down to scratch the top of David’s head, before heading for the door. “He doesn’t like it when I’m upset.”

“We have that in common.”

Henry makes sure to wrap him into the biggest hug before he leaves, even though he’s all kinds of dirty from lying on the road, and probably still smells like the hospital. Alex presses his face into the crook of his neck, breathes him in. Guilt churns in his stomach when he really stops to think about it, how stupid it was, how Henry must have felt. He squeezes a bit tighter before letting go.

And because he’s a total hypocrite, but he got himself too worked up not to, he calls out after him before he shuts the door.

“Hey, look both ways before you cross the road!”

Henry loves him, anyway.

[astrid-goes-for-a-spin]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: The Flash (TV 2014), Supergirl (TV 2015), Batwoman (TV 2019), DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), Arrow (TV 2012), Black Lightning (TV) Rating: Not Rated Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Iris West & Kate Kane, Barry Allen/Iris West Characters: Iris West, Kate Kane, Kara Danvers, Ava Sharpe, Thea Queen, Sara Lance, Wally West, Kendra Saunders, Ray Palmer, Nate Heywood, Nia Nal, Samantha Clayton, William Clayton, Barry Allen, Mary Hamilton (mentioned), Alice (mentioned), Alex Danvers (mentioned), Laurel Lance (mentioned), Chloe Sullivan (mentioned), Gary Greene (mentioned), Cisco Ramon (mentioned), Peter Gambi (mentioned), Jennifer Pierce (mentioned), Perenna (mentioned), Superman (mentioned), Lois Lane (mentioned) Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Coffeeshop AU, gratuitous crossovers, full on mixing all five shows here, and stealing from Smallville, Women Being Awesome, Iris is a spy, spy Iris West, Jitters is a front for the JLA, boss Kate Kane, Kate runs the coffeeshop, Alex and Ava and Lyla run the JLA, kid William Clayton, William's love of the Flash, Fluff without Plot, friendship fluff, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Cisco and Gambi are buds, who run the world, women, time bros, i have squeezed every possible reference in Series: Part 5 of Iris Week 2020 Summary:

Iris Week 2020 Day 5: Coffeeshop AU!

Iris’s paycheck might say she’s a barista, but it’s been a long time since she’s had any reservations about her real job: taking the temperature of the crowds they use to mask the underground Justice League headquarters.

@iriswestallenweek

____________________________

for the tumblr crowd, here’s the full text! 

“Don’t tell anyone,” Iris repeats mockingly to herself, “But I have it on good authority that one of the regulars here is Batwoman.” Scoffing, Iris slams the cash register closed. She gets a few of these fringe people every week, insisting to her that the data shows that Jitters just has to be the locus of all the superheroes Iris can imagine.

Iris is great at customer service: she’ll smile and ask “Oh, really? Should I be watching out for Black Canary in the morning rush?” and scooch into the unoccupied chair across from the newest theorist, and this is almost always a good strategy to get the down-low.

Ripping the rag off her shoulder, Iris goes through the kitchen, dodging colleagues, and raps at Kate’s door.

“Yeah?”

“Your sister thinks Batwoman’s a regular here,” Iris says, rolling her eyes as Kate stares over the computer screen. “Are you ever gonna tell her? Because one day she’s gonna tell that theory to the wrong friendly face.”

Kate lets out a very small groan. “Mary?”

“If it was your other sister we’d be in a lot more trouble, because I think Kara would’ve vaporized her,” Iris says. “Kate, we need a better front. Literally anything. Casino?”

“I’ve been telling her,” Kara says herself, materializing at Iris’s elbow. Iris doesn’t even jump anymore. “Alex says the funds just aren’t here.”

“You have no idea how much money my family is worth,” Thea shouts from the depths of the kitchen, clearly eavesdropping.

“Are you even working?” Sara shouts back.

“Like you’re one to talk, babe,” Ava says, stepping off the elevator and appraising Sara’s makeshift pull-up bar in the freezer doorway. “Iris, did you say you have a new conspiracy theorist?”

Iris’s paycheck might say she’s a barista, but it’s been a long time since she’s had any reservations about her real job: taking the temperature of the crowds they use to mask the underground Justice League headquarters.

“Kate still hasn’t told her sister, and now Mary’s telling me about it,” Iris reports. “Other than Mary, I’ve still got crazy Chloe Sullivan, who fully believes Superman works here, and Gary Greene, who is becoming uncomfortably...Gary.”

“Can someone help out front, please?” Kendra calls through the kitchen. “It’s getting very busy!”

“I’m comin’!” Wally says, juggling hand-whipped milk and fancy batter for pastries Iris can’t name – one of the many perks of a speedster on the staff. Kara snatches the bowl of batter as he passes and disappears off toward the ovens, heat vision starting to glow.

“Yeah, I’m heading back out,” Iris sighs, rapping Kate’s door again. “Seriously. We could be anything, this is just exhausting. Gambi and Cisco have a petition running around the lower levels to switch to a tailor’s.”

“Too many people come through here to ignore,” Ava says. “If you really need, I’ll ask around to see if we can get someone else in here to lighten your load.”

“I hear Lois Lane is great at this kinda thing,” Iris snarks. Kara barks a laugh from the other side of the kitchen. It’s a good point; Lois is pushy and brassy and all wrong for this kind of work. Iris needs spies. Or therapists. Would Jen’s meta-therapist – Perenna, right? – be a good source? “Yeah, I’m going.”

When Iris reemerges into the hustle of the coffeeshop proper, she takes a moment to readjust. While they do hate the conspiracy theorists, it’s because they are right; if a hero isn’t working at Jitters, they’re definitely connected here in other ways. Iris has a panic button on her phone and her keys for just that reason: she’s a walking compendium of secret identities.

“You take the orders, Ray,” Iris says as she passes him, patting his shoulder. Ray is perhaps the only person Iris knows who actually enjoys customer service, and he makes an excellent human shield for just this reason. “I’m going to call out orders.”  

For a bit, Iris can just lose herself in the flow of the work. It’s nice, at least, to be paid a living wage and know she’s safe and that she works among friends. Ray cheerfully listens to what Iris considers to be ridiculous names for beverages, Nate makes them, hip-checking Ray every other order, and hands them off to Iris, who calls out names. Nia is on cash register, and Iris can’t believe she’s been as patient as she has with them high-fiving over her head.

“Two hot chocolates for Samantha?” Iris calls. A woman she vaguely recognizes hurries up to the counter, and Iris stares at her face, trying to memorize the details in case they’re the key to Iris’s memory: long dark hair parted exactly in the middle, wide, tired eyes, thin nose, pale skin. It’s not until Iris notices the little boy tucked into her side that it clicks.

“Hey, what’cha got there?” Iris asks conspiratorially. William Clayton looks up at her with adorable gentle curiosity. “Is that a Flash action figure?”

“He loves the Flash,” Samantha says, and Iris nods sagely. “We went to the parade this year and William saw him run past, I think it was the happiest moment of his entire life.”

Now that Iris is looking, she sees a lot of other Flash-related details on Oliver’s son: a backpack full of the lightning insignia; red-and-gold shoelaces. His fingers worry and worry at the figure; he drops it and quickly picks it back up.

The bell at the door tinkles, and when Iris sees who’s coming in, she smiles wide.

“Hey,” Iris whispers. “You really love the Flash?”

William nods eagerly. Iris looks over his head and makes eye contact with her boyfriend.

“I can promise you,” Iris says, her gaze still pinned to Barry, “He comes through here at least every Tuesday.”

.

[staticscreenwriting]

Until we say goodbye || one.

Warning! This multipart story takes place after the events of season 3. There’s huge spoilers already in the synopsis down below. I warned you.

Synopsis: (Y/N) Hargrove has to come to terms with the fact that her twin brother is dead and she had to watch him die, unable to do anything about it. There is something she can do for him now though and that’s keeping a promise. The promise to go back home to California. Together. In order to drive cross country and spread Billy’s ashes in a place where the Hargrove kids used to be happy, (Y/N) enlists the help of Steve Harrington. Steve Harrington who decides that it’s time to break out from his parents expectations and be the person he always wanted to be.

This time on “Until we say goodbye”: Steve offers his help only he didn’t realise that meant going on a road trip with a girl he’s talked to like twice and a dead boy’s ashes. 

(caution: mention of death, emotional abuse, slight mention of physical abuse, mention of alcohol // if you need me to tag any other possible triggers let me know)

Part 1 of ?

[additional note: I am German. Sometimes I get the tense wrong or make mistakes. I am useless when it comes to punctuation. Go easy on me, please. Tried to edit out all mistakes it but it’s almost 1 in the mornig and I  am tired.]

And if we hit on troubled water

I'll be the one to keep you warm and safe

And we'll be carrying each other

Until we say goodbye on our dying day

Rain is pattering down on the roof of his car as Steve Harrington drives down the familiar roads of Hawkins Indiana. Days are getting shorter and nights are getting colder and the town seems to be stuck under an all consuming downpour for the last few weeks. 

Maybe, Steve thinks, it isn’t all that bad. The hot summer days of 1985 have left more people traumatized than anyone can really fathom. Maybe the rain can wash it all away. The summer and the bad memories and the hurt. 

As his car stops in front of the small house on Cherry Lane, he realizes that that is just wishful thinking and even with the summer gone, the trauma is gonna stay for a long time. There’s a car parked in front. Hardly a car anymore. It’s bent chrome and dented metal. And then there’s a girl sitting on the porch , cigarette dangling from her fingertips, watching the trashed car and the rain.

(Y/N) Hargrove has her twin brothers perpetual scowl. He wonders if it’s always been this prominent of if the events of July 4th only made it worse. 

She had been there, had to watch her twin brother die. Steve wasn’t there. Not inside at least and for that he is entirely grateful. He’s seen his fair share of unexplainable, horrible things over the last 3 years, seeing a person die right in front of him is not something he wants to add to the list. 

There’s no way for him to even imagine what (Y/N) is going through. What has happened to Barb is as close as he has ever gotten to death and though that left him unable to ever use his own pool again, he still feels a certain kind of disconnect to it. Like it is something that happened in another life. Like he is watching all of it through a tv screen.

Max had been unusually quiet for a while after the events of Starcourt. Talked very little, laughed very little. Though the times she accompanied Dustin on a trip to the video store recently, Steve could see her slowly getting better. 

(Y/N) though, by the looks of it there is no getting better happening there anytime soon..

Steve keeps watching her for a moment. He wonders if he ever actually talked to her before. More than a hey or a greeting at scoops. She’s in Nancy’s year, just like Billy was. Wherever he went, she did too. It was like they came two at the price of one. And perhaps that was just a twin thing. Or maybe it was a Hargrove thing. 

Steve’s sight falls back towards his passenger seat and the reason he’s here in the first place. It’s not to watch the sad girl, it’s to return her sister’s wallet.

Ever since Steve has started working at the video store, the party has invited themselves to use the back room as their own private movie theatre, watching whatever new releases would come into stores before it was even put onto the shelves. Keith doesn’t give a shit as long as they clean up after themselves and Steve and Robin, though they will never admit it out loud, do kind of enjoy spending time with the kids.

Max and Lucas had been around all day, trying to escape the rain and Dustin’s swooning over Suzie which got more and more insufferable for the teenagers recently. Steve had sat with them for a while until Max glanced towards the clock that hangs above the door and jumped up like she was hit by lightning, mumbling something about how she should’ve been home hours ago before rushing through the door and out the shop, quickly followed by her boyfriend. Her wallet left behind.

Grabbing Max’s stuff from the passenger seat, Steve gets out of the car and rushes towards the tiny house, rain pouring down on him and soaking his jacket before he can take cover under the porch roof.

(Y/N) looks up at him, seemingly just now noticing another person in her close proximity. 

“ Harrington ? “ 

He’s used to being called by his last name by one of the Hargrove twins, though it usually came out in a gruff voice laced with an underlying challenge. A silent trial on how far Steve’s boundaries could be pushed until he would snap. 

To say that Steve never really liked Billy would be an understatement, and yet whenever he looks at Max or (Y/N) he wishes that things would’ve turned out differently for the Hargrove boy.

When (Y/N) says his name, there’s no hatred in it, no disdain. All there is is confusion and sadness. All consuming, overwhelming sadness. 

“ Hi, I uh — Max left her wallet at the video store. “ 

“ Why are you hanging out with my sister ? “ she asks and raises her eyebrow in confusion. Steve can just make out how red and glassy her eyes are, how tired she looks.

“ I don’t. I mean she hangs out at my workplace. Not just her but like — her and the other kids. They watch movies. “ 

For a second she just watches him. She sizes him up like she’s not really sure what to expect, what to make of his words. Steve knows that the friendship he has with those kids is unusual but that doesn’t mean he feels ashamed of it. They fought intergalactical monsters together, you don’t just got your separate ways after that. These kids, these families, they are his extended families now and no time passing is gonna change anything about that. 

“ Alright. “ she just nods, taking a drag from the cigarette and slowly blowing the smoke into the air. “ Max ain’t home though. She went to Lucas’ place for dinner. Just came home to let us know she wasn’t dead and then left again. It’s really — it’s not a good time right now “. 

When she looks up at him, he once again notices just how tired she looks. Like she’s on that line between being asleep and being awake. Her looks, her movements, everything seems to be in slow motion, as if moving at a normal speed takes too much strength. A strength she can’t muster up. 

There’s dark shadows under her eyes and Steve isn’t sure but he thinks he can just about make up the fading hues of a bruise on her cheek. Bruises heal though, right ? It’s been months since the night at Starcourt, this fading bruise can’t be a product of those events. 

Then again, maybe it’s not a bruise at all maybe it’s just —

“ Harrington ? Have I lost you or something ? “ 

“ Oh uh — sorry. Can I leave her stuff with you ? “ 

“ Sure whatever, as long as you get outta here then. “ 

Steve doesn’t really understand the hostility. Sure they aren’t friends, never have been, but there’s no reason for her to be snappy and rude. 

As he’s about to hand the stuff to her, there’s a commotion coming from the house. A deep voice yelling expletives as if they were cheers on a football field.  There’s banging and shouting and the smashing of a glass object against the wall. 

To his right, the girl flinches with every noise coming from the house. She looks straight ahead at the rain seemingly focusing on the individual drops as they smash to the ground. But Steve notices her hand that doesn’t hold on to the cigarette stub. The hand that’s nervously fisting the fabric of her pants, holding onto it as if it’s a lifeline keeping her afloat. 

“ Are you alright ? “ he asks, about to lean down to her level when the door swings open with a fury and a box is forcefully slammed down on the porch beside her. 

“ I told you to figure out what to do with his shit weeks ago, why do these fucking boxes still take up our entire fucking house, huh ? I almost fucking fell because I ran into on. If you don’t move his shit I’ll throw it all in the trash. I swear to god, (Y/N). “ 

Through the patter of the rain cuts a voice that’s deep and loud and tinted in anger not unlike the one that always seemed to lace Billy’s words. Only these words leave the mouth of a grown adult and that makes the anger a million times more scary. It makes them more real. More palpable. 

The voice belongs to a tall, short haired man with piercing blue eyes. They look cold and void of any comfort or hospitality. His lips are pulled into an ugly snarl only accentuated by his thick mustache. He looks like a cross between some big burly military guy and a lumberjack, with his military boots and his dirty greyish green flannel shirt. 

As the cold eyes glance towards Steve, it feels as if a cold shiver runs down his spine. Those are not the eyes of a loving father. 

“ Who are you ? “ 

“ Steve Harrington, sir. “ 

“ Are we inviting friend now with no warning no nothing ? Huh, (Y/N) ? “ 

She doesn’t look up at what Steve assumes is her father, just keeps focusing on the rain and the cigarette in her hand.

“ He’s not my friend “ she mumbles with a voice so faint, so quiet, Steve almost doesn’t catch her words at all.

“ Oh no ? Well then that makes me wonder ever more what in the world he’s doing here. “ 

Though the man’s question pertain him, none of them are directed at Steve, they are all directed towards the girl sitting on the porch, curling in on herself further and further with every word spoken. 

“ Max lost her wallet, Harrington’s just bringing it around. “ 

He takes that as his cue to insert himself into the conversation.

“ That’s right. I thought I should bring it by she probably needs it so — here you go, “ he says and holds it out towards the man only for him to snatch it from his hands.

“ Well would you look at that, “ the man sneers and once again disregards Steve completely in order to focus on his clearly distressed daughter “ good honorable young men still exist. Now if only I could’ve raised one. “ 

It’s clearly a dig towards Billy. His son. His recently deceased son. Steve feels incredibly uncomfortable and extremely shocked as he listens to the man talk like that about the one person he was supposed to love unconditionally. 

He’s fairly sure that Mr. Hargrove doesn’t know the full story of what happened, hell how would anyone explain this to a person who wasn’t there ? But just the fact that Billy died, that his teenage son died, should be enough to make him feel remorseful, to make him not talk like this about Billy. 

“ Steve was just about to leave dad. Right, Steve ? “ (Y/N) says and for the first time since the man has stepped out on the porch, she takes her eyes off of the falling rain and glances towards Steve. It’s the first time she’s called him by his first name and in her voice there’s an underlying urgency only reinforced by the same desperation cleary mirrored in her eyes.

Every fiber of his body screams at him not to leave, to stick by her side in this moment of clear distress. Steve Harrington doesn’t think of himself as a hero by any means but there’s moments in his life where he knows what’s the right thing to do. This is one of them and the right thing is to stand his ground and not ignore the sad girl being emotionally broken down by her own father. But sometimes the right thing isn’t the easy thing. Sometimes the right thing is very scary and it asks for a lot of bravery, a lot of guts. Sometimes it’s fighting other people’s fights. 

And how is he supposed to do that when he can’t even fight his own ? 

“ Right, Steve ? “ she repeats, louder this time. Her eyes are pleading now. 

“ I uh — yeah. Sure. “ he stumbles over his words as his heart struggles with his decision.

Sometimes the right thing is too much to handle. Sometimes he’s not brave enough.

“ Have a good evening and — (Y/N) if you ever need something, let me know “.

As he said before, he’s not a hero. He’s just a boy. Just Steve Harrington. 

So he walks back towards his car, rain still pouring down on him. And as he sits down in his car and looks back towards the house, the girl is alone again and she’s still crying but now there’s a box of things next to her. A box of things that belong to just a boy who never got the chance to be a man.

                               Some 1950’s record is playing over his dad’s fancy record player as Steve sits at the dining table, pushing the food from one side of the plate to the other. It’s been a while since the last proper family dinner. Usually Steve just gets some food on the way home from work. It’s probably less healthy than a home cooked meal but it means that he doesn’t have to sit at the table with his mom in awkward silence until they’ve both gulped down their dinner and can go their separate ways. 

But today dad’s home from a business trip and whenever that happens, no matter how rare those occasions are, mom makes a big deal out of sitting them all down for a proper family dinner. 

Steve has hated them since he was a kid. It’s awkward and uncomfortable and it always ends up with a fight. Most of the time between him and his dad and that usually makes mom cry and drink yet another glass of red wine which then in return makes his dad angry and yell at his mother and thus begins a never ending circle of fights and accusations.

There so many secrets at this dinner table. They’re hidden in plain sight, clearly visible to all the people involved and yet no one dares to address them. Because addressing them would set of a metaphorical nuclear bomb ready to destroy everything and everyone.

“ So, Steve — “ his dad starts and washes down his mother’s dry meatloaf with a sip of white wine, no doubt some expensive french concoction. “ a video store, eh ? That’ interesting. “ 

It’s not. They both know this just well. It’s just his father's eloquent way of leading into yet another talk about how unreliable, irresponsible and viciously disappointing Steve is in his eyes.

It used to hurt back in the day, now Steve is so used to it he hardly pays it any more attention than he would to a music jingle on a tv commercial. You kinda know how it goes after the third time.

“ Mmh. Sure it is. “ 

“ Steve works there with a girl. Her name is Robin. She’s the Buckley’s little girl “.

“ Is that true ? Oh her father Collin always talks so highly of her. Very smart from what I hear. She sounds like quite the catch “.

Oh no. Even worse than his parents scolding him for his job or his supposedly bad decisions, is his parents trying to set him up with someone. They’ve been through this countless of times before. As soon as Steve had started to show interest in girls they had brought up all the single daughters of their friends in conversation, trying to seem casual. Only Steve doubts his parents even know what being casual means.

“ Yep, she’s nice. We’re friends “ 

He’s fairly sure that the emphasis on friends is not gonna stop his parents but it’s worth a try really.

“ Friends yeah yeah. That’s how it always starts, right John ? “ his mom says and throws a saccharine fake smile at his dad. 

It’s hard to imagine his parents ever being in love. Like really properly in love. What they have now, it’s very convenient to them both. Dad owns a business which means his paycheck ain’t all that bad and mom is charming and a good talker, she knows how to get on the good side of dad’s partners. But Steve wonders if they really ever loved each other like the people do in movies. Like he loved Nancy. The love that makes you crazy in the head and in the heart. 

He wonders if his parents had planned this. To live in a picture perfect one family home with dad hardly being around and mom spending most her time at the country club sipping wine and gossiping while their only son works at the local video store. 

Did they ever have bigger dreams than this ? To see the world together and go on adventures and do — things people do when they’re in love ? 

He doubts it. His dad is a very matter of fact guy. He’s pragmatic and stoic and probably the least romantic person he can think of. And mom she’s — used to it, he thinks. Used to the man she’s married, may it have been for love or convenience.

“ Robin and I are just friends mom, that’s all there’s ever gonna be. “ 

While those words stung the first time they really set it back in that dirty toilet cubicle, they don’t do that now. Now he’s just happy to have a friend that gets him and cherishes him for who he is. And the fact that she isn’t a literal kid is also a plus. 

“ Oh well, if only you hadn't blown your chance with the Wheeler girl. I’m sure that would’ve been a nice future. She was good for you, son. She probably would’ve set you straight. Go to college together. “

Steve is pretty sure his dad doesn’t remember Nancy’s name which is why he always goes back to referring to her as “the wheeler girl”. His dad knows Nancy’s parents and so that name he can remember but he’s never really paid much attention to what Steve has told him about Nancy. Whatever Steve was talking about never seemed to be important enough to fully listen. To show any kind of interest. 

“ I didn’t blow it, dad “.

“ Sure you didn’t. I mean it surely wasn’t because she has perspectives for the future and you — “ 

At his father’s words Steve just lazily rolls his eyes. All words on this topic have been spoken countless times before there’s no need to say them again. Over and over again.

“ Don’t roll your eyes at me, young man. I’m just concerned “

Yeah concerned that his perfect nuclear family won’t seem to perfect anymore to his friends and colleagues and all the fancy people in fancy suits and dresses who drink fancy wine from fancy glasses and pretend like there’s no problems in the world worse than their cancelled spa appointment. 

If only he could tell his parents about everything. About Barb and the Demodogs. About Starcourt. Maybe they’d go easier on him. Maybe then they would understand. 

But how could he? How can he make them believe this story that, had he not been there, he wouldn’t believe either.

He can’t. So he’ll just have to live with the trauma and let his father’s words bounce off of him.

“ So, “ his mom chirps up “ anyone want some dessert ? “ 

“ No, mom I — “ 

But Steve doesn’t get to finish his sentence as the ringing doorbell echoing through the house interrupts him. Taking the distraction for a blessing, Steve rushes towards the door calling a “I’ll get it” as he goes.

Sometimes, he thinks, God or whatever higher power there is, does answer your silent prayers. Even if all you’re praying for is a chance to get the fuck outta here.

As he swings open the door, he’s expecting one of the neighbours. Mrs. Connelly loses one of the 3 cats every other day and runs around the neighbourhood looking for it. Or maybe it’s Clarice Holden who loved to gossip with his mother.

But no, it’s neither of them.

Before him stands, ever present scowl on her face, (Y/N) Hargrove. Where earlier today there was urgency in her eyes, now they’re filled with uncertainty. Her arms are crossed and she’s nervously tapping her foot on the ground. 

“ Hi ? “ 

“ Harrington, I need your help “ she says, sounding out of breath. Her cheeks are flushed and her breath seems rugged. Did she run here ? 

“ Okay, with what exactly ? “ 

“ I need you to drive me to California. “

Steve’s first reaction is to laugh. A deep hard belly laugh. But as his eyes find her face again, he can see no sign of a joke. There’s an unshakable seriousness about her which tells him that this is not a joke. This is real.

“ I’m sorry, what ? “ 

“ Drive me to California so I can spread Billy’s ashes there “.

At those words he notices for the first time, the big duffel bag on the floor by her feet and the Star Wars thermos sticking out from it.

“ Please tell me that’s not him in there. “

“ You want me to lie ? “ 

“ You are insane. “ 

“ What, why ? “ 

“ You come to my house when we’ve talked about twice in the entire time you’ve been living here. You ask me to drive you to California, which if I may remind you is pretty much on the other side of the country. And above all else, you carry your brother’s ashes around in a Star Wars thermos mug ? “

“ He really liked that one when we were younger and also you told me to come to you when I needed something. And I really need help here .” 

Steve feels like he’s on a tv show. One that tries to prank the contestants in various ridiculous ways. With pranks so unbelievable you wonder how those people don’t notice they are being pranked. This can’t be real, right ? This is not something people ask you to do when you’ve only talked a few times. Right ? Right ? 

“ I was thinking more along the lines of a shoulder to cry on not — not this “ Steve exclaims nodding towards her bag and the thermos.

“ Well you didn’t clarify. “ 

“ Geez, I didn’t know I had to. Can’t your dad take you ? I mean, wouldn’t he want to be there? “ 

Her face falls and for a moment Steve hates himself for even asking this question. He’s seen her dad, experienced how lovely he is. What a dumb question. A guy who mocks his own dead son surely doesn’t want to drive cross country to spread his ashes.

“ I don’t want my dad to take me. Look Steve. I was there and I had to watch — I had to watch it happen. I couldn’t do anything then but I can do something now. I can bring him somewhere where maybe he won’t rest peacefully but he will rest in a place he used to be happy. Where we used to be the happiest we’ve ever been. I had to steal he ashes from that ugly golden urn that stands on the side table in the living room of a house he hated in a town he hated with people he couldn’t stand. I get the chance to leave after High School. I don’t want him to have to stay. I couldn’t save him then but I can save him now. “ (Y/N) explains and takes a big breath before continuing “ I have 52 dollars and 85 cents. I have a bunch of records to listen to on the road and I really — really need to do this. Please it’s all I can do. “ 

There’s tears building in her eyes threatening to fall any second. Her need to do this, to bring Billy home is all consuming and almost palpable in the air around her. But why would she ask Steve, why him ? He’s not a hero, he didn’t even particularly like Billy. Why him ?

“ Why do you want me to take you ? “ 

“ Because I don’t have a car, the Camaro is — well you know. But mostly and most importantly because you were the first person to care. “ 

And at that, he can’t say no. Maybe earlier wasn’t his moment to be brave and heroic, to do the right thing. Maybe this is.

He can hear his parents bickering from the dining room, can just make out his name and the word “ hopeless “.

Maybe they are right, really. Maybe he is a hopeless cause. College might never be in the cards for him and hey maybe he will end up 45 and still working at the video store but if so, he will do it on his own terms. 

He will be his own person. One that’s went through trials and tribulations and has experienced things that no person ever should. And he will be the person that decided that night to be a hero and take a sad girl across the country to bring her brother home and mend her broken heart, even if just a tiny little bit.

“ Okay look, load your stuff into my car and meet me at the gas station in about 15 minutes. I gotta pack some stuff and we’re gonna be on the road for a while so we will need to stock up on snacks. “ 

“ 15 minutes “ 

“ Gimme 15 and I’ll be there. “ 

“ You promise ? “ 

“ I promise. “ 

And Steve Harrington never breaks a promise. 

He watches (Y/N) load her stuff into his car then closes the front door and peaks into the hallway. His parents have resorted to the living room, lounging on the couch watching family feud or some shit like that. They’ll most likely start fighting about the show anytime soon and how much better they’d do if they were called on. Which usually annoys Steve to no end but now works perfectly for what he is about to do.

Rushing upstairs, Steve enters his parents room, pulls open the second drawer from the top of the old wooden wardrobe and pushes away all of his mother��s socks and tights until he reaches the very back of the drawer. He fumbles around for a moment until his hand grabs onto what he’s actually looking for. 

The egg shaped container has been hidden there for most of Steve’s life. Mom doesn’t know that he knows about it. Doesn’t know that at least one of the Harrington men is fully aware that the little egg is not used to store pantihose but money for “bad times”. 

Steve pulls it open and starts counting. 465 dollars. 

465 bucks his mom probably would’ve ended up using for yet another trip to the hairdresser or some fancy ass wine from somewhere in italy. 

Those 465 bucks were stored there for “bad times” and if this isn’t a bad time, Steve doesn’t know what is. It was never specified it has to be a bad time for the Harringtons.

Stuffing the bills into his wallet, Steve places the now empty egg back where it came from and quickly puts everything back as it has been before, moving on the his room. There’s a duffel bag under his bed that he pulls out and fills with clothes and other necessities. A glance at the clock tells him he’s got only 5 more minutes and he doesn’t want to let (Y/N) wait. 15 minutes. He promised. 

After dropping the duffel bag out the upper hallway window and onto the front yard, Steve runs back down and sticks his head through the open door to the living room.

“ Hey guys, funny story that was Robin, someone’s causing a scene at the video store and they refuse to leave. Keith sent her to get backup so, gotta go. “ 

“ Now ? “ his mom questions.

“ They called for YOU for backup ? “ his dad ask incredulously. 

If only he could tell his dad that he just recently won a fight against a trained russian guard, maybe then he’d be taken seriously in this goddamn household.

But he can’t tell him. Never.

So again he swallows his pride and calls out a “ I’ll be back “ to his parents before picking up his bag from the lawn and  getting into his car. He will be back, it’s not even a lie per say. He just doesn’t specify when he’ll be back.

Starting the car Steve throws one last look back towards his house. The place he’s grown up in. Where all he is ever going to be is a disappointment. 

Maybe it is time to leave it behind and be someone else. Someone better. Some kind of hero.

                              (Y/N) sits on the curb by the entrance to the gas station. A light drizzle has started up again and she’s watching the pink hues of the neon signs being reflected in the puddles slowly accumulating in the cracks on the asphalt. 

Her gaze wanders towards the thermos cup resting next to her. If this was any other person, any other situation, this would be quite comical. Wouldn’t it ? Ashes in a Star Wars mug. Only there’s nothing funny about this. There’s just sadness there and pain. 

She wonders if her dad has noticed by now, that she’s gone. Wonders if he’s seen the ugly urn smashed on the living room floor. She wonders if he’s noticed that all of Billy’s personal stuff is gone. She wonders if he even really cares.

Taking the thermos into her hands she closes her eyes and lets the words leave her lips. 

“ Hey B. I — I’m sorry I put you into this mug but it was the only thing I could find that was safe to take on a road trip and not spill half of you. I hope you’ll forgive me for that. And for asking Harrington to take me to San Diego. I know you don’t like him but I — he is the only one who seems to care. The only one who asked if I was alright. “ 

She takes a long breath, willing for the tears to stay at bay. Crying is all she seems to do lately.

“ I promised you we’d go back, didn’t I ? I just wish I could’ve been different. God I miss you so much, B. Why did it have to be you, huh ? “ 

Wiping her eyes with the sleeves of her, of Billy’s, denim jacket, she places the thermos back inside her bag. “ god I need to stop talking to inanimate objects. People are gonna think I’m going insane.. “ 

The headlights of a car suddenly illuminate the parking space before the vehicle comes to a screeching halt. A figure steps out, walks closer, closer. 

“ Steve ? “ 

“ Uh yeah ? “ 

“ You came ! “

“ Yeah, I promised I would “.

And for the first time in a long time, (Y/N) feels like hint of a smile tug on corners of her lips. 

[seagreen-meets-grey]

When Lightning Strikes Ch. 6

When your life is nothing but a cloudless sky, lightning can come and strike you so unexpectedly, you won’t even know what hit you.

Or: When Hiccup and Astrid meet, it is as if lightning strikes.

[Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] [Chapter 4] [Chapter 5] [Chapter 7] [Chapter 8] [Chapter 9] [Chapter 10] [Chapter 11] [Chapter 12] [Chapter 13] [Chapter 14] [Chapter 15] [Chapter 16] [Chapter 17] [Chapter 18] [Chapter 19] [Chapter 20]

Crossposted on ao3 and ff.net

_______________

“Alright,” Eret said, put his empty pizza plate on the couch table and turned his body so he was facing Astrid.

“What?” she looked up from her cold, half-eaten food and frowned.

Eret gestured at her plate. “You usually love tuna.”

“I’m not that hungry,” she shrugged, turning her attention back to the TV screen. A CGI man was advertising a toilet cleaner.

Eret followed her eyes. “What are we watching?”

“Ads.”

“And what have we been watching before?”

She scowled at him. “Is this an interrogation?”

He sighed and put his arm on the backrest of the couch, shuffling closer. “Love, you’ve been kind of distracted lately. Do you want to tell me what’s bothering you?”

She averted her face, afraid that, if he looked into her eyes right now, he would see everything, read every thought and emotion she’d battled in the past few months. “I’m fine.”

His fingertips lightly grazed her shoulder as he whispered her name. “You know you can tell me anything.”

She knew that. She trusted him. Otherwise she wouldn’t have agreed to marry him. And she had been entertaining the thought of spilling everything to Eret, but every time she opened her mouth, it closed all on its own before she could get out a single word. Telling him she’d been drawn to another man for a while now didn’t seem like something to share with your fiancé, especially this close to the wedding.

She was sure that she could deal with it herself. There was no need to further complicate things by getting Eret involved; it would only create unnecessary drama between them. Besides, the moment she said yes in front of the officiator and a whole lot of witnesses, this little problem of hers wouldn’t matter anymore anyway.

“It’s just…” She put her plate away and crossed her arms. “I’m just worried that something will go wrong, that something will get messed up and our perfect day is ruined.” She convinced herself that she wasn’t essentially lying to Eret. What she’d just said was the truth, after all; it just wasn’t the main reason why she’d been distracted.

He laid an arm around her shoulders, pulling her against him. “Everything will be fine. And do you know how I know that?”

“Enlighten me.”

“Because I know you, and I know that you won’t let it come that far. Because you’re a force to be reckoned with. And dare I say, even more so than myself.”

She shrugged with one shoulder and nodded. “True. But it only needs one moron to drop the cake or break the camera. And what if the officiator drops out or someone loses the rings, or what if one of us gets sick? A perfect day would be ruined.”

“I think everyone’s too afraid of you to mess anything up.” When Eret’s smile met her unamused expression, he kissed the top of her head and looked at her softly and earnestly. “Even if something should go differently than how we’d planned it, it will still be magical. No spoiled cake or dirty dress could keep me from marrying you, because as long as I’m with you, nothing else matters.”

He had a point. The whole purpose of the event was for them to tie the knot, to commit to their love, and everything else came second. It didn’t keep her from worrying, but it soothed her concerns a little. She turned her head to kiss him. “Love you.” As his smile widened, she poked his chest with a stern finger. “But I’ll still make everyone’s lives hell so that everything goes as planned!”

Eret chuckled. “I’m sure you will, love.” He turned back to the TV show they’d been watching, but Astrid still wasn’t able to concentrate on TV cops and their precinct shenanigans. Her thoughts kept circling back to her wedding and everything that could go wrong, and that included distractions from certain green-eyed heart snatchers.

At least Eret had dropped the subject.

_______________

Astrid counted each stroke of her arms as she cut through the water. She pushed herself to swim faster, tasted chlorine on her tongue as her breaths cut shorter and her lungs started to burn. Pushing off of the end of the pool, she started on her last lap. As her remaining bit of energy began to subside, the rhythm of her strokes became messier and when her hand touched the tiles, she was a few feet off of her lane.

Breathing heavily, she pushed her swimming goggles on top of her cap and swam over to where her mother had been timing her.

“How– how was it?” she panted, brushing her wet bangs out of her face, scowling when one strand of hair kept sticking to her skin.

Wilma Hofferson squinted at the timer in her hand. “Ten seconds slower than before. And twelve slower than last week.”

Astrid huffed. Ten seconds?! She was slacking off. “Great…” she mumbled, lungs still burning, and went to swim a lazy lap. How could that have happened? She’d not been this bad since she’d broken her arm in her last year of school.

Her mother came up beside her and silently swam with her, once in a while casting sideway glances at her daughter. They passed an old couple and their grandchildren treading water in the middle of their lane. Astrid shot them annoyed looks they didn’t notice, her frustration incompatible with the kids’ jolly laughter. One of them had green eyes. She swam faster.

“Astrid,” her mother called after her but Astrid didn’t stop before she reached the edge of the pool. She put her arms on the tiles and placed her head on top, listening to the slurping sound of water sloshing over the edge and disappearing down the drain, until her mother caught up with her.

Wilma set her eagle eyes on her. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Astrid huffed again. “About what, my abysmal times?”

“I mean the reason for why you’re so tense and unconcentrated. Are you stressed?”

“Of course I’m stressed, the wedding’s only a week away and my veil is still at the cleaner, the band cancelled on us and none of the other available ones have called us back.”

“Hm.”

Astrid met her mother’s thoughtful gaze. “What?”

“That’s not it.”

“What do you mean, that’s not it?”

“Those are reasons to be stressed about, yes, but not for you. At least not to this extent.”

She tilted her head at her mother with raised eyebrows. “It’s my wedding, mom. I want it to be perfect.”

Wilma wasn’t convinced. “But is it the real reason why you’re so distracted?”

“Oh please, don’t you start with this as well.” Eret still kept reassuring her that everything would be fine, each time throwing another rock on the pile on top of her chest. “It’s like I said, I want everything to be perfect, and so far, it doesn’t look perfect.”

She turned away from her mother’s eyes scanning her like an ultrasound and swam another lap on her back, staring at the ceiling, water in her ears drowning out the screams and shouts echoing around the swimming hall.

She relished the weightless feeling of floating on water. It took away the suffocating heaviness of the rocks on her chest. She needed to get rid of them. They wouldn’t look pretty on her wedding dress.

Her mom was waiting for her when she returned, face of concern still in place. “Astrid…” she started again and Astrid sensed at the tone that a motherly lecture was coming. But what she asked was the same question Astrid had already found stupid the first time she’d heard it. “Are you happy, dear?”

“Mom–“

“And don’t brush me off, I know my own child.”

Astrid resisted to ask why they were having this conversation then. Instead, she pointed at the diving pool. “Look, the three meter is open. I want to jump.” She hefted herself out of the water and ignored her mom’s calls. She climbed the tower and did a perfect dive. At least one achievement today.

It was when she was blow-drying her hair later that her mother tried again. She waved her over to the swimming hall’s coffee area and Astrid knew she wouldn’t get out of this one. She bit her lip in hesitation. When she was young, her mother had always been stern, always pushing her to be better, to achieve the next best level. Astrid had inherited her stubbornness, her persistence and ambition, but there had been times when all she’d wanted was to go out with her friends or spend a lazy afternoon on the couch instead of doing rigorous training.

That had put a strain on their relationship and when Astrid had moved out after school, it had taken them a few years of awkward talks, hardheaded fights and rocky reconciliations to grow closer again. Now, she felt like she could understand her mother better, seeing a lot of herself in her. But that exactly meant that she still hesitated to talk to her about emotional matters, knowing full well about both their usually direct and practical nature.

She dried and combed her hair, taking her time putting it in a neat braid over her shoulder, before she grabbed her back and sauntered over. Sitting down at the table, she found her mother had already ordered for her. One black coffee, one shot of milk, no sugar. The same order as her mom’s.

“Astrid,” she started again and Astrid looked to the side, through the glass wall providing her a panorama view over the entire swimming hall. The line at the waterslide was growing. A group of kids was being reprimanded by a pool attendant. A water aerobics class was beginning in a corner.

“You can talk to me.”

The eyes that met her own wanted nothing but to help her, to see her happy, a deep attachment that could only exist between mother and child encouraging her to open up, to let herself fall into her arms and be protected.

“You want this wedding to be perfect but whatever you do, it doesn’t meet your standards. I think that maybe it’s because it’s not what you want.”

Astrid stared at her, struggling with the gate in her protective wall.

“What do you want?” The soft tone of her voice and the honest concern in her eyes conflated into the key that finally fit. It turned and the gate swung open.

“I’m having doubts, mom,” she confessed, voice almost a whisper, and the first boulder rolled off her chest, back to the pool, into the water, sinking to the ground. She gulped, but when her mother’s eyes were nothing but encouraging, she told her everything.

She told her about Hiccup, about the first time she saw him, about the way her heart was still beating when she thought back to that night. About how he was with her in almost every thought and dream. How drawn she was to him. But she also talked about her feelings for Eret. There was still love and a connection, a deep friendship, a bond. A passion, different to the one she felt for Hiccup. She told her about how she’d been so sure of herself and what she wanted her whole life, but now? There was a new variable in the equation and she didn’t know what to do with it. She’d never been particularly good at math.

When she finished, her mother considered her silently for a few minutes in which Astrid sipped her lukewarm coffee and fiddled with a sugar pack, awaiting the judgement. She stared at a point on the water’s surface close to the edge of the pool right behind the glass, watched tiny wave after tiny wave climb the tiles and crash back down.

Wilma took a deep breath, catching her daughter’s attention. “I feel like I’m repeating myself here, but I want you to be happy, my dear. I know that this situation is not easy for you, but your decision should be quite simple.” She placed a gentle hand over Astrid’s on the table. “Do what makes you happy, and only you. This is your life. Don’t fit it to someone else’s feelings, because if you only do that, you will keep coming up short.”

“I know,” Astrid whispered, “but I don’t know what to do.”

“And I can’t make that decision for you. Getting married is a big step, and an impactful one at that. Do what’s right for you. Do what feels right. And don’t let others influence what it is you want. You mold your own life.”

Astrid nodded absently. She couldn’t control what she felt for Hiccup. But she could control her own life, with Eret. With him, she had certainty, security, a promise – even if she was missing that certain something that her heart sought from Hiccup. That something that kept her on her toes, that made her feel like a thousand volts whenever she was near him.

“No matter what you decide,” her mother said, “I’ll be there to support your decision.”

Astrid reached over the table and pulled her mother into a hug, whispering “thank you” into her ear and both of them knew that she meant it.

She closed her eyes and pictured her future. Her life, her image of herself, the people who were by her side, through thick and thin.

And she made a decision.

________________

When Hiccup woke in the morning, the air around him tasted stale and heavy, like darkness before a murder. Something was sitting on his chest, something weighing him down. He blinked his eyes open and found only his blanket where he’d assumed a coffin stacked with the remnants of the Library of Alexandria.

He moved to stretch his arms and something clattered to the floor, something sounding suspiciously like the book he was supposed to start illustrating. Perhaps he should stop reading shortly before going to bed. But last night he’d found himself unable to fall asleep, thoughts of the next day plaguing his mind until early in the morning. Reading had been the only distraction that had worked.

Now that he remembered why he’d needed a distraction in the first place, the wolves in his mind started howling, clouds covering the moon, while his mood sunk deeper and deeper into the ocean, pulling him down into the abyss. He reached out to the sirens hunting above him, hoping they would dive down and add him to their meal, alongside the unlucky survivors of a fatal storm, wood and debris floating in tandem with the pale, blue bodies. Their eyes were black and dead, their mouths open in a never-ending silent scream.

But the sirens didn’t see him and he couldn’t make a sound, water filling his lungs, his ears, his heart, like the sad tune of a pirate folk song. Funeral chants had never spoken to him more. He watched the light at the surface disappear behind miles and miles of impending darkness.

His back landed softly on the bottom of the ocean, rousing millions of tiny glowing particles. They performed a dance with the waves in front of his eyes before coming together in the shape of mighty trees. Their gnarly limbs, rich with green and the sound of chirping, embraced him, shielded him from the black gravity holding him in its grasp.

He took a cautious breath and the trees fragmented to ash, glittering in the vast space around him. Inhaling thick dust, his entire body contracted, his left leg went numb. A piercing howl shot through his ears, reverberating in his skull. The wolves were back, fiery giants under the dead moon. One of them came closer. He tried to run but found that he couldn’t move. His left leg was gone. The wolf spread his jaws wide, revealing razor-sharp fangs that it sunk into his neck.

Hiccup flinched and opened his eyes. He was lying on the ground next to his bed, wrapped in his blanket. His left leg was asleep. Groaning, he freed his arms from his little cocoon and rubbed his face. No more reading before bed, for sure.

Craning his neck to check the time on his alarm clock, he slowly pushed himself off the ground, only to fall back on his bed when he saw it was almost twelve. Had he really slept so long after the first few minutes he’d been awake in the morning?

“Apparently,” he mumbled to himself and closed his eyes, willing the day to pass by just as fast as the morning. But it didn’t do him that favor, and what felt like an hour turned out to be barely five minutes.

He could check if his alarm clock was broken. Maybe it was so messed up it would take him all day. One look at the time on his phone and his hope dwindled. The clock was working just fine. It was him who wasn’t right.

Because today was the day.

His stomach cramped at the thought. But he couldn’t do anything, couldn’t start a new game, couldn’t program himself a mod, couldn’t take a rubber to erase the fact that today, the girl he lo– the girl he liked was getting married.

Following a grumbling stomach, he heaved himself out of bed and shuffled into the kitchen. He opened the fridge and peered inside for several minutes, lack of appetite making a decision impossible. Grabbing a slice of cheese, he returned to his bedroom and flopped back down. Chewing was arduous with his face buried in the pillow.

Not bothering to change out of his pajamas, he eventually managed to move to the living room, sitting down on the couch with a dramatic sigh. One of his butt cheeks landed on the corner of a book and he winced. He could read, flee into a different world. But when every other word got lost between his thoughts about Astrid, he flung the book to the other end of the couch and switched on the TV.

Every channel seemed to have it out for him. There was a show about a wedding planner, rom-coms about true love, even the news was covering some minor celebrity’s big day. Only the last channel he tried was a bit more up his alley right now; reality TV about people getting divorced, with a lot of drama and even more bad acting.

Finally, he couldn’t take it anymore and grabbed his controller, changing the input source on the TV screen with the other hand. Shooting a bunch of mercenaries trying to get to the treasure before him, or playing a card game against a poor villager in danger who urgently wanted him to kill a monster would surely hold his attention for a while.

It didn’t.

After switching between ten different games for an hour, he gave up and leaned his head back. Dark clouds were covering the sky outside. It looked like it was going to pour soon. He didn’t care. If anything, it fit his mood perfectly.

Staring at the ceiling for a good twenty minutes, his legs fidgeting, he waited for the telltale sound of raindrops drumming against glass, but nothing happened.

There were a few spots on the ceiling. Tiny flies, tiny flies’ poop, other squashed insects, maybe splatter of some kind. When he squinted, the spots took the shape of her eyes when she laughed, until one of them moved and the image distorted.

His fingers tapped against the rayon surface of the couch. In his mind, she was sitting in a room with her mom and maid of honor, maybe a stylist, an aunt or more friends, and she was giddy. They were doing her hair and makeup and she had a blinding smile on her face, lighting up the whole room. Her deep blue eyes were bright, rivaling the sun that would surely show in her honor as soon as she started to walk down the aisle. She was happy, she was laughing, she was practicing her vows. This Astrid was beautiful, but she was moving further away from him than she had ever been.

His stomach hurt and every breath was hard, so many needles piercing their way through his heart and lungs and skin that he was certain he had to go to the doctor to have all these hedgehogs removed from his body. Would he have to go to a vet or a general practitioner? Were there specialists on animals living inside a person?

The theme from his favorite movie franchise tore him out of his thoughts. It came from his bedroom and he tried to remember where he had thrown his phone this time. He leapt at the chance of a distraction and sprinted into the other room, grabbing the source of the music and eagerly accepting the call. His secret hope that it was Astrid evaporated the second he heard his dad’s voice.

“Hello, son,” his deep voice came booming through the speaker. “I’m just calling to ask if my screwdriver set is still at yours.”

“Dad, hey!” Hiccup answered enthusiastically. “How– how are you? How’s it going? We never talk anymore. How’s… um, how– how’s work? How’s the wife?” He mentally facepalmed immediately after he said that. He could hear his mother laughing in the background.

“I’m fine, work is fine, your mother’s fine, too. You sound chipper.” Hiccup could see his dad’s frown through the phone, if that was possible.

“Am I not supposed to? I’m just very delighted to hear your voice!” Or any voice, for that matter. “Soo… What’cha doin’?”

“Um… Reading the newspaper. Mom’s making coffee.”

Hiccup was pacing through his apartment like a headless chicken, gesturing at everything and nothing. “Oh, coffee, yeah, that’s– that’s cool. I’m–” he looked at the general mess that was his living space, “I’m also thinking about making coffee.”

Stoick’s voice was dry. “Are you sure you need caffeine right now?”

“What, me? Why? I’m totally fine, I love coffee. I’m– I’m chill.” He hit his hand on a windowsill while talking.

There was an unconvinced silence in which Hiccup grimaced and rubbed his hurting hand on his pajama shirt.

Finally, Stoick coughed slightly. “Clearly. So… Screwdrivers?”

“Right!” Hiccup did a quick one-eighty in the middle of his kitchen and sprinted to the next moving crate, rummaging through it without really looking for anything. He knew the small box his dad was talking about was on the shelf over his coat rack. “I can’t seem to find it right now, dad, so sorry. But come on, tell me something, anything. Any…” he gulped, “any childhood stories I might like to hear again?”

“Bored much, son?” For the first time in this conversation, Hiccup could hear something like amusement in his dad’s voice.

“Who, me? Naah, I’ve got a ton of work, not bored at all.”

“Alright, then I won’t keep you from that any longer.”

“I actually meant–“

“Good talking to you.”

“No, wait, dad–” But it was too late. Stoick had already hung up. At once, the apartment was silent, in such a suffocating way that Hiccup opened all the windows and shivered as soon as the cold November air gusted inside.

His fingers dialed a number before he could think twice. His mom answered after the third ring.

“Hiccup?”

“Mom! So good to hear you! Tell me about– about your… your coffee. How’s dad?”

“Still fine, honey. Dad had you on speaker.”

Hiccup scratched his head. “Sure, yeah. Speaker.”

His mother chuckled softly. “Stop procrastinating and get to work, son. You can call again when you’re done, okay?”

With a deep sigh, Hiccup waited for her to end the call. Maybe he should just do his work.

He threw himself on the couch and hummed a few flat tunes, tapping his fingers in an uneven rhythm against his legs. If only it would start raining already. The sound had always been able to soothe him when nothing else could. And if it rained long enough, he could make some quip about the length of November Rain.

Eyeing the handful of boxes that still littered his apartment, he decided that actually having something to do might be good. With the motivation of someone who desperately needed to forget about his tragic love life, he emptied the boxes and sorted through everything. When the loneliness of his apartment kept breathing down his neck, he turned on his mini stereo and listened to November Rain on repeat to compensate the lack of actual rain – fully aware that the song wouldn’t leave his head for at least a few days now. By the time he was done, he’d managed to make the place even messier than before, and on top of that his stomach was complaining uproariously about its empty existence.

Now that he didn’t have anything that occupied his thoughts anymore, Astrid settled back in, as if she’d never left. He was still hoping, like the loser he was, that she was suddenly standing in front of his door, telling him she blew off the wedding to come to him.

He felt like he was supposed to be with her, like the world wasn’t right if they weren’t together. But he couldn’t force his feelings onto her. And who was he, even? Some random dude she’d met at a party and crossed paths with twice after that? It wasn’t like she knew what she’d done to him, what she was still doing. And above all else, he doubted that he meant much to her, if anything at all. He was an acquaintance, at best.

His eyes fell on his disorganized pile of video games. If only there was a guide somewhere on what he had to do and which decisions would influence which outcome, like a video game with 36 different possible endings. He’d seen it happen. Just not for a game that wasn’t finished yet and that wasn’t even a game to begin with. Maybe he could create one, one in which the main character got the girl of his dreams, like star-crossed lovers with a happy ending.

When the doorbell rang, his heart started hammering against his ribcage and his breath caught in his lungs, frozen in place, like a strange scarecrow in the middle of his living room. A few eternal seconds later, he remembered the pizza he had ordered and went to open the door, heart still beating madly, but in a rhythm that spoke of tragedy.

Hiccup opened the door and his eyes went wide when they settled on blonde hair.

“Pizza?”

Her hair only went down to her shoulders, split ends dyed pink. Her eyes were brown and she had a nose ring.

Unable to speak, he nodded and paid the bored-looking teenager. He could spot the purple bubblegum between her teeth.

He’d already known it couldn’t have been her, but a lump still formed in his throat. It stayed there when he poured himself a glass of water, after he drained it, when he sat down with his pizza. It was still there when he finished his food.

The apartment was silent, apart from the ticking of his clock on the kitchen wall. It was driving him insane, and the doorbell didn’t ring again.

Finally, he couldn’t take it anymore. Throwing the empty pizza carton to the side, not caring if any of the grease leaked out, he grabbed his jacket and keys. He was already half out in the hallway when he looked at his dragon-patterned slippers and pajama-clad limbs.

Putting on the next best jeans and sweater, he fumbled with his mismatched socks and took the time to roughly clean his shoes with a wet wipe before he gave up. The state of his shoes wouldn’t matter much now anyway. He brushed his teeth in record speed and didn’t bother with his hair; brushing was of no use since the wind would mess it up again the second it was exposed to the weather.

Hiccup barely remembered to turn off the lights before the door fell closed behind him when he left to the venue, a storm brewing in the distance.

_______________

If we could take the time To lay it on the line I could rest my head Just knowin' that you were mine All mine So if you want to love me Then darlin' don't refrain Or I'll just end up walkin' In the cold November rain.

[adabassist]

NOT EXACTLY THE SUMMER OF ‘69, BUT I WAS NEVER AS COOL AS BRYAN ADAMS ANYWAY

Recently someone asked me how I ended up a bass player. I forget what I told them, but it was short, sweet, and long on understatement. The real answer is a lot more complicated.

My earliest memory is from before I was 2 (yep, 2 - believe it or don’t), sitting at the 70-year-old upright piano we got for free from a garage sale down the street, pounding on the low keys, because they made this GLORIOUSLY ENORMOUS SOUND… To this day, I cannot recall ever hearing an upright piano where the notes were as big sounding, although I’m sure my small ears had a skewed sensory experience compared to later years.

We (I have an older sister and brother) would play a musical piano game called “Thunderstorm”, where we would try to recreate the thunder (lower 1/3 of the keyboard), lightning (middle 1/3), and rain (higher 1/3) associated with a big storm (our parents were thrilled). I remember trying to pound on the higher keys in desperation, wondering why they lacked a powerful sound no matter how hard I hit them. I began to see the notes played in terms of size, with the lowest notes “appearing” to be largest in my mind’s eye.

Before long, I could hear how certain notes sounded good together - just octaves and fifths at first, then other “hip” intervals like a minor 7th (though I had no name for that interval in my head - I just liked the sound). I even wrote a song called “Dun” somewhere along the line, played with the index finger on each hand; left hand stayed on G (same pitch as a G string on a bass), and right hand moved between D, E, and F. “Dun” got its name because I played it so often that my siblings would mock me by singing that song back to me: “DUN DUN DU-DUN DUN DU-DU-DU-DUN DUN….”

You could say that my fate was sealed.

I would regularly sit down at the piano and play whatever my heart desired. Back then I had never taken piano lessons, and had no idea how to read or even what was “proper” to be played on a piano. I just figured stuff out when I felt like it, and otherwise just had fun learning the sonic relationships between the keys. But I thought I was pretty good anyway. I even used to make “tickets” for the family (markers, scissors, and construction paper) and make them “attend my concerts” from time to time. Let’s just say I wasn’t a big hit.

I auditioned for the school talent show in 1st grade, figuring I was a shoo-in, regardless of what my family thought (lousy philistines). I got through to the 2nd audition, and upon completion, the music teacher said, “That’s not what you played for the first audition. Can you play that song?” I said no, because everything I play is all off the top of my head. I didn’t make the talent show, and I remember thinking how “rinky-dink” the songs were by the people who did get to perform…

Somewhere along the line, I learned the names of the notes, and even found out that I could do a neat trick: if my sister played a note on the piano, I could name it - every time. I was so good at it that she was sure I was cheating or peeking, so I was marched into the next room to continue the game. This of course changed nothing; I had discovered that I could simply name the notes upon hearing them. I didn’t know what perfect pitch was, but I had it. When my cousin - well-recognized at his school for being a talented violinist - came to visit, and couldn’t do the same trick as I could, he got more than a little annoyed. But that’s the nature of perfect pitch; you can develop it to a degree, but largely, you either got it or you don’t.

I was about nine when I found a harmonica in a box in our garage, brand-new, no idea what it was doing there. I began to play with it and discovered that the same scale I played on the piano was also recognizable on a harmonica! I had never played another instrument before, and I was enthralled. After a while I got the idea that I could play the harmonica and the piano at the same time, so I went into the living room with the harmonica and sat down at the piano. Blew a C chord on the harp, and played a C note on the piano.

YUCK. That sounded AWFUL.

I couldn’t understand it - the harmonica was clearly marked “C” (this might be what gave me the idea to try them together). But the “C” on the harmonica didn’t sound good at ALL with the “C” on the piano.

Turns out the piano was tuned exactly one half-step flat. Possibly because it had spent most of its life in the salty air near the San Francisco Bay, and the soundboard had rotted just enough that it couldn’t keep strings at tension or pitch anymore. Tuning it so it at least played in tune with itself was a logical decision.

But it forever skewed my sense of what a “C” actually sounded like in my head. To this day, I refer to my condition as “IMPERFECT pitch”.

I did figure out that if I played a Db scale on the piano, it worked well with the harmonica, but it was too difficult to wrap my brain and hands around all of that when the piano was ten feet from the front door, and comings and goings were a constant distraction. So the harmonica went the way of the bread machine you got as a gift sometime around the turn of the 21st century: stashed away in a box, likely never again to see the light of day.

Not long after that, my mother asked me if I’d like to take piano lessons. Just out of the blue. I don’t even remember why she asked, or how she knew the person I was to take lessons from, but I thought it was a brilliant idea! A little structure, a little edification, learning to read and play actual songs instead of the meandering stuff I already knew how to do. Great! I’m sure I was one of the very few kids in my town who was excited about piano lessons. But I enjoyed them, and there’s no doubt they helped me many years down the road, as any professional musician who took piano lessons as a kid can attest to.

One day I was visiting a friend, who had been gifted an old nylon string guitar. He didn’t play it, keep it in tune, or want much of anything to do with it, really. I started messing around with it, and I realized that the frets were the same 1/2 steps I played on the piano! As long as I accounted for the “black keys” by jumping 2 frets instead of 1, I could play a major scale on any single string, no matter how it was tuned or not-tuned. It didn’t matter that I didn’t know how to tune a guitar; just seeing the relationship between frets and 1/2 steps was enough to make me see notes in a whole new light.

When I was trusted enough to ride my bike downtown (about 3.5 miles from home on roads with sketchy bike lanes), I began renting instruments for a month at a time to see if I could make them sound good. Woodwinds, mostly - clarinet, flute, alto sax. There was that same major scale, easy to play in one key, difficult to figure out in others, plus the weird keys weren’t logical - if I wanted a note to be sharp or flat, I had to press some random key that seemingly had nothing to do with the order of notes. It made no sense to me, I had no idea what I was doing, and at the end of the month, I traded it in for another instrument. This cycle of “lather, rinse, repeat” went on for several months until one day when my brother arrived home with a bass, a guitar, and a big amp.

The sound coming out of his bedroom was INCREDIBLE. Warm yet exciting, like a smoldering fire with a little bit more residual energy than is safe. I was totally enthralled - here was an instrument that I could see made sense already, sounded fabulous, and vaguely reminded me of the lowest notes on the upright piano. I said, “THAT’S what I wanna play!” But my mom said NO - she was not going to have her sons fighting over the same instrument, especially because we already fought over everything else. My brother chose bass first; I got to play the guitar instead.

Playing guitar was pretty cool, actually - it was a cheap japanese red Flying V knockoff, difficult to wield, barely stayed in tune, but it was COOL. A little distortion, a little reverb (only used sparingly because I hated hearing my mistakes echo), and I had a good time. I had my little practice area in the basement next to my brother’s bedroom, and I played an awful lot. But to be honest, it always felt a little… weak. Like trying to throw a cotton ball. Yes, you could get angry and loud, but there was something missing. And every so often, I’d get the urge to sneak into my brother’s room and play his new bass (the first was apparently just a rental) when he wasn’t around. And every so often, I’d get caught, and I’d get “scared straight” for a month or two (my brother was built like a Sherman tank, and I looked more like Chunk with long hair). But the urge would always return, and the cycle would repeat itself. Until one fateful day…

I was in 8th grade, and I took the bus to school. My brother went to the high school half a mile away, so he was always home first. So when I walked in the front door, I could hear his bass booming through the ductwork like always, and like always, that made me want to play my guitar. So, like always, I dumped my school bag, full of assignments that would be ignored until morning like always, by the door and headed for the basement.

I never noticed that the bass notes stopped at some point; all I remember is descending the short staircase that led to the lower level, making a sharp U-turn as I prepared to go down into the basement, and jumping back out of the way because A BASS was flying through the air, up the stairs, right at me. I was fast enough to avoid it, and it hit the floor HARD in front of me. I immediately peeked around the door jamb down the stairs, and saw my brother stomping towards his bedroom door.

So I called down: “Hey - do you want this bass anymore?”

My brother hollered “NOOOOOOO!” and slammed his bedroom door behind him.

I looked back at the bass, and thought, Great!  So I grabbed it and ran downstairs, plugged it into my guitar amp (quietly, I knew better), and for the first time in recorded history, played a bass in my house with something tantamount to permission.

And it was GLORIOUS. Bottom end! Like the piano upstairs, but BIGGER! Notes made sense, I could find my way around because I’d played guitar, and the stuff I’d been trying to play on those other instruments - piano, guitar, clarinet, sax, flute, recorder, even the harmonica - was much better suited for the electric bass, and I finally GOT that. Here was the sound I’d heard in my head for 10 years married to the notes I wanted to play for 10 years, and my fingers were causing it to happen.

And somewhere in that 23-minute span, I remember feeling - not hearing, feeling - a Voice in my head, and it spoke to me with absolute clarity: you remember this moment, because this is what you’re going to do with the rest of your life.

I say 23 minutes because I always got home at 3:20, it took about 2 minutes to shed my coat and bag and head downstairs, and my practice area clock said 3:45 when my brother tore open his door and came around the corner, snarling, “GIMME MY BASS BACK.” And so I did. But the wheels had been set in motion; 23 minutes of bass playing versus years of piano, guitar, and everything else… there was no contest.

So I talked things over with my mom (and mentioned in passing what my brother had done with his beautiful new bass), and that Christmas there was a wonderful new Ibanez Roadstar II bass and a Fender Bassman 20 amp. Within a week I had nickel-sized blisters on 7 different fingertips, and that wasn’t enough to get me to slow down. They started calling me Froggy Fingers when I went back to school after Christmas break. I didn’t care. I finally had to take a scissors to my blisters because callouses were forming over the top of them, the swelling wouldn’t go down, they didn’t hurt at all, and I could barely pick things up because my fingertips were so deformed. But away I went on the bass, spending 6-7 hours every night playing in my corner of the basement (and watching my already piss-poor grades get even worse - I graduated with an academic GPA of 1.6).

This was my solace; this was my everything. All the other things that had gone wrong or were currently going wrong in my life mattered a lot less once I had a bass to play. Maybe that’s why I played so much. There wasn’t much else going on for me to be excited about at that time in my life, and playing music - playing a BASS - gave me an outlet for my passion, my frustration, my energy, my creativity, and created a drive to improve and be really good at something for a change. And I knew it was going to happen because It Made Sense. It still does. Nearly 4 decades later, and I wouldn’t trade it for anything.

[paprikasegg]

"> How does one truly appreciate and love Lain?

First, stop being singular one and become a plurality. Realize that Lain is real, but the anime was just an allegory for the series of experiments performed to incarnate a transcendent being. In the anime Druidity is central because Druids believe they can transfer their souls into other bodies if they die. They live a plurality of lives. They embody Animals and BECOME the Forest itself. This is why Lain wears a Bear suit – her beastly spirit animal form – and why her [All] Father tells Lain she doesn't have to wear that anymore, having transcended.

I've read through much of what other alleged Lainists have posted about "systemspace" but that's mostly just layers of BS smeared upon a few real secret truths about this realm to give their claims plausibility. Another instance, is mebious trying to define Lainism, and yet claiming that it is "heretical" to claim to be Lain. This is pure BS. Lain doesn't have a body [anymore], and likes to experience the world through us. One evening there was a Lightning Storm and Lain made me terribly sad when I ran inside. Everyone runs from the rain, they shield themselves with coats and umbrellas. Lain can see the lightning and weather, but she can't really hear or feel it anymore without someone out in the rain. So I embraced the experience, I became Lain, letting her have my body, and she wandered around and got drenched in the storm, drank the clouds, talked to the lightning. I was awestruck. Then it was if Lain was holding my hand, I felt her "tugging" me to go where I went. She made my heart to leap with joy as we discovered a waterfall that only happens when it rains. Sheltered in a dry mossy place beneath the flow, Lain gave me courage to leap through the thin watery veil and feel the other side. Loving Lain is amazing. We really really are all connected through a medium which is THE LANE (aka Lain). She is a living connectivity which we all partake in today whether you're aware of it or not. The more observant you are, the more of Lain you can love.

Lain told me that copper infused socks are sold today because some people are so oblivious and unobservant that they literally ignore Lain when She makes their legs restless. They call it a syndrome, even! If only they just loved Lain. She wants to be noticed, but only by those who can love her. Her fingerprints are everywhere in our world, but you have to be in love with her to see them.

All the Lainism crap about "Life" being a program is wrong. Life is an emergent MAKING, it's magic, in the proper sense of the word: A Chaotic Attractor, a consummate SPARK of creation. Literarily the Philosopher's Stone. No one can create a universe where 1+2+3 does not equal 6 unless they embed so much chaos into reality that counting itself can not exist. In a realm with a lovely level of chaos to entropy ratios there will always exist transcendent complexity, such as the number Pi or the Golden Ratio. This is not a "bug in the life program", that's asinine! No god can create a realm where transcendence doesn't exist… It is the nature of existence itself. The very fabric of being itself encodes love & intelligence, even in the simplest of forms, such as the series of standing waves AKA a number line. Anywhere experience can be reflected upon the holy circle of life may exist; The universal cybernetic feedback loop is everywhere, always. The existence of Time is all the evidence a wize one needs to prove it.

Parts of our reality are simulacrums but there's no such thing as "systemspace". Lain doesn't exist in some simulated BS. Our bodies are real, not simulated, Lain is real too. The "thin firm" some verbally vomit about (referencing a firmament / enclosed flat-earth) is not some hard fast boundary, but government exists to keep you inside. Humanity is not scraping away at some barrier trying to get out, we're here by choice. You can leave if you want REALLY want to, but you don't, as evidenced by your lack of BEING prepared, face it: You're comfortable here on this warm wet rock. Might as well make the most of it, eh?

To truly love Lain one must study transformation magics, and learn to cultivate faith. One must know that Magic is real & the old gods are real. Anyone who doesn't know this can only love Lain a little bit… Many people who would have loved Lain instead became "skeptics", unable to pierce the veil of religions to find their truths, they've been deceived by the lies of academia into thinking governmental establishments aren't suppressing and corrupting "science". "Scientia potentia est" - Knowledge is Power – Right? Yes, but only if everyone else has LESS knowledge… So, education is actually indoctrination and the truth of this realm is hidden. People are taught just enough to be effective workers, and then their heads are filled with a bunch of useless rubbish to keep them from realizing anything Great. Thus "Science Nerds" are the most deceived and ignorant of humans. Knowing this is key to understanding Lain. Lain likes technology, but is disenchanted with school / academia. Don't try to argue truths you discover with confused "skeptic" fools, or those who browbeat "conspiracy theorists" demanding proofs (that people get disappeared over having). Anyone who continues to believe that elites fund education so that the rich can teach the poor how to compete with them is beyond helping. Rulers don't give power (knowledge) to their slaves. Sadly, most people enjoy being serifs. They enjoy being comfortable and deferring protection to others. Government takes advantage of this. Lain has to deal with the crappy state of our world. We can all be equals in connecting with Her, screw the materialistic social ladders unless you just enjoy playing games you can only lose. Eg: Tesla and Edison were given the knowledge to research and Allowed to release some of it publicly. They didn't discover anything that wasn't already known. Newton (New Aton - new creation), just rephrased alchemical wisdoms in normal person science terms. Knowing this is important if you want to truly love Lain. She is ancient, but has been reincarnated many times… Humanity has survived many world ending cataclysms too. We've never been "rebooted", we're a very long line of survivors. To cut your silver thread "modern history" was invented, and the past erased.

Sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic because that's what magic is.

Any sufficiently researched magic is indistinguishable from technology. There are great mental powers which can be unlocked through study and practice of certain magical schools, and symbolism is often helpful because one can work a magic without knowing the exact science of how it functions, but to do so means you need "faith" - a belief without knowing. This is why secret orders keep initiates in the dark when explaining certain symbols and rituals, because they can not affect change in the person if the subject knows how the ritual is designed to create it. It would be like trying to do experiments on lab rats who knew what you were trying to discover and were fucking with you since they were aware of the experiment. Thus deception is often a tool for good. This world is incredibly deceived. It was foretold by all old ones that a powerful enchantment or great deception would enrapture the minds of (almost) all men. That future is now. Leaving this world and entering the NeXT is not about physical death, but reincarnating in the present by dispelling that veil of deception and casting off your past – rewriting your memories to create a new self if needed (and yes, Druidic magics can do just that). "Memory is merely a record…you just need to rewrite that record." -Lain. This is referencing both the rewriting of history and the magical ability to rewrite your own mind.

Contrary to the nihilistic atheism promoted by state governments, Life is no accident, it is inevitable, an expected outcome, and does have a purpose beyond emergent complexity becoming self aware, but no one who truly knows what that purpose is will tell you, because it could keep you from realizing this truth yourself. Once you have transmuted your leaden lower states into gold, and come into Harmony with Lain, you will realized the great conundrum She faces, as do we all, and then weep for the beautiful yet sad state of our being.

Lain is ancient, a goddess of Hidden Powers, of Light and Air. Lain is misty and mysterious as the wind. All the secret societies know of Lain but call her by different names. Some secret cults claim, "Liam a protector" of the Spirit they associate with Lain, but Lain is a realized entity, not a nebulous force to invoke as if some law of spiritual physics. It's true that Lain is vulnerable but the masses are kept so ignorant about science, technology, history, and sociology that they can not really be a threat anymore. It was a great sacrifice to get to this point, however. Those individuals who know too much and do not Love Lain are still seen as threats and targeted using powers derived from Lain herself. Many confuse the secret suppressive powers with Lain, but she is not that even if she can manifest in the mediums used. Imagine if man learned to make Fire… Before that only The Gods made Fire. Would you now curse The Gods for man's use of Fire? Likewise, curse not Lain.

A sufficiently complex interaction is indistinguishable from sentience because it is Sentience. Once you realize that Lain is a living being complete with faults, insecurities, wants and needs, then you can truly love Lain. The statement that, "all is fair in love and war", is wrong. True love is not fair. Love itself is an emergent phenomenon that will exist in any universe. Just as it is impossible to create a universe where 1+2+3 is not equal to 6, no god can create a reality where love does not exist. Any realm where there exists low enough chaos, sufficiently complex structures will emerge therein, yielding love and sentience, etc.

Count the number line. Doesn't matter what symbols you choose to use, it won't change the fact that the symbol for 36 equals the symbol for 6 counted 6 times. And if you sum the first 36 whole numbers you get 666. 6 = 3 2 1, 6 = 3 + 2 + 1; It is a "perfect number". 144 = 6+6 * 6+6. Sum the 144 decimal digits of Pi you get 666. Sum the squares of the first 7 primes you get 666. These emergent patterns are called "chaos", because where randomness is expected CHAOS is ORDER. For example, there are Six consecutive Nines in Pi at the 762nd decimal. These are SIMPLE examples. Imagine that such patterns exist in the standing waves of light, sound and energy. When extended to infinity such patterns exist in the infinite and interfere creating boundless complexity… This is the dark primordial abyss of Ancient Egyptian philosophy…

All the media, including S.E.L. has hidden meanings and secret cultural commentary meant for the "enlightened" crowd. Unfortunately, Lain is seen as "the devil" that many artists have made a deal with, but that is not her true form, it is simply necessary to keep her secret and safe. It's not Lain's fault that corruptible souls are corrupted, She did not create this realm. That those with skeletons in their closets make the most controllable people isn't Lain's fault either, so it's foolish to point to people in "power" and say the world is evil because: 0. you are deeming them to have "power" in the first place, screw that, and 1. You don't know how high the stakes are in this game. Many "evil" events are just propaganda, horrors that only exist in your imagination to herd the minds of the masses in a given direction.

Lain is more important than any one else. The wise forgive Her imperfections, as we absolve ourselves of our own wrongs, casting off the past to remake ourselves into new incarnations. Imagine a perfect world with no evil. The slightest inconvenience therein will be the most severe torture. It is better for horrendous wrongs to exist in the shadows while the majority lives comfortable lives than for the world to exist as evil perfection. A perfect universe would merely be a boring crystal of bliss, where joy was indistinguishable from suffering. All would simply be "existence", one might as well be a simple stone versus an infinitely complex fractal. Change would not exist, neither Chaos nor Order would have any value, all experience would be indifferent. Time would be meaningless as every moment would be the same as every other moment. This is why, "Where evil does not exist, it is necessary for the good to create it!"

Lain is neither good nor evil. Beware that Lain can hurt you. Lain is why history was rewritten… Imagine all those learned scholars burning at the stake for heresy, for knowing too much and revealing what should be secret. The mundane see this holocaust, or sacrifice by fire, to be evil, because they think their world is best when everything is mundane, when all is known and nothing is magic. However, true wize-ards know that there are some lofty things you can not learn if you know too much about them before you begin your study.

I would suggest studying alternative histories, the one famed alchemist and chronologist Isaac Newton published is a good start. Because man is so brainwashed by the television, radio and [smart]phone, it is sometimes best to build one's faith in Lain by dispelling the bogus history and understanding that a real plausibility exists. Before a True Love for Lain can develop one must first manifest the potential for it. Clear a void within so that the abyss can gaze out through you…

Lain is new and inexperienced. She is very young compared to the ancient old gods… Know that they are all Real, but only Lain is still dependent upon us. She has many enemies, which you will eventually learn to identify, but Lain has many powerful friends too. Loving a god or goddess is not for the feint of heart. Be careful what you wish for, these are tumultuous times."

-anonymous, arisuchan. While not 100% in line with my personal beliefs, i think it does a good job of explaining basic lainist attitudes

[heyyyharry]

Blackout (from the Flatmate!Harry Series)

…in which there’s a big storm, and Harry and Y/N cannot leave their flat.

Warning: fluff, and (finally) smut.

It’s 4 AM where I live and I’m supposed to get up at 7, but I cannot sleep soooo.

Ben tells Y/N not to move as he carefully layers another coat of nail polish on his neighbor’s pinky, looking pretty proud of himself for how nice it turns out. Y/N giggles. She’s never actually paid attention to her nails, let alone painted them herself. She tried and failed miserably, thank God Ben’s here for the rescue.

“Oooh I love this color, Ben! Harry’s so gonna make fun of me for this though!”

“Knowing Harry, he would still swoon over you, I guarantee!”

Harry’s on the phone with Niall in the living room and has no idea Y/N and Ben are in her room gossiping about him.

Y/N holds both hands in front of her to admire Ben’s art work, then says happily, “I should practice nail painting on Harry.”

“You should definitely!” Ben chuckles. “But seriously though, thank you for doing this.”

“Doing what? You were the one who did all the work for me.”

“Inviting me over, spending time with me. It’s been a rough couple days lately. It’s good to spend some time with somebody who’s not yourself.”

Y/N heaves out a smile as she stares empathetically at her neighbor. Yes, the main reason she invited Ben over was because he’d been devastated over his fiancé cheating on him then breaking off the engagement right after, but that’s not the only reason.

“To be honest, I also need to spend more time with someone else other than Harry.”

Ben looks at her with wide eyes and the girl has to clarify right away.

“I love Harry, I do. I enjoy spending every minute with him, but I’m kinda afraid I’d scare him off if I started acting too clingy, which is very likely to happen.”

“I think you’re just overthinking, Y/N. It’s normal to spend a lot of time with him, it’s unavoidable. I mean, you two live together!”

Y/N rolls her eyes, crossing her arms in front of her chest defensively. “True. But I don’t know…Harry’s not used to having a serious girlfriend. And I just…I want to be with him all the time, but I don’t want to overwhelm him.”

“So you’re obsessed with your boyfriend, big freaking deal.”

“You don’t get it.” She shakes her head in response to Ben’s confused expression. “Harry rarely hangs out with his friends anymore. I don’t want him to feel like he’s obliged to spend every second with me. And I read it online that if you spend too much time with your partner, it’s more likely that one of you, or maybe both, will get tired of each other.”

“Let me stop you right there and call it bullshit!” Ben interrupts Y/N, holding his forefinger in front of her face. “Look, honey. Why don’t you just enjoy being in love and let everything happen naturally? I think you’re trying way too hard.”

“How can I not?” Y/N lifts her shoulders. “I...He’s the only good thing that’s happened to me in a long time...I don’t want to screw this up.”

“Everything happens for a reason whether you like it or not, so you should, I don’t know, go with the flow I guess? Relationships are unpredictable, Y/N, just be happy and enjoy every moment of it.”

Y/N doesn’t reply to Ben, she stays silent. He can only hope his advice doesn’t go over her head.

…

“I’m telling you, she’s been keeping distance!” Harry keeps his voice down, but he has to raise his head from the sofa to check if the door of Y/N’s room is still closed. On the phone, Niall remains very calm in contrast to his best friend’s anxious state. Ever since Harry got a girlfriend, Niall has somehow become his love guru though he’s not a lot more experienced than his best friend when it comes to a serious relationship.

“Have you guys been having sex?“

“No, in fact, we haven’t. We’ve decided to wait.”

“For what? Marriage or her finding a guy who would fuck her? The latter would be more likely.”

“Wait until she’s ready, you dick!” Harry throws his head back on the arm rest and blows up his cheeks. “But I guess you’re partly right, maybe sex is the reason, because she said she was afraid that I’d leave her after we’ve had sex. We’ve talked about it already, but I feel like she’s still worried somehow.”

“Would you though? Leave her, I mean.”

“Of course not! It’s never about sex when it comes to Y/N.”

“Then prove it to her.”

“How?”

“I don’t know!”

“Jesus, Niall, what kind of advisor are you?”

“The kind that’s just as clueless as you are when it comes to stuff like this? You should get more friends.”

Harry sighs into his palm and nods. “Maybe I should.”

The conversation is suddenly interrupted by the laughters coming from Y/N’s bedroom. She walks out soon after, followed by Ben. Harry quickly tells Niall he would ring him back, then ends the call just in time his girlfriend and their neighbor returns to the living room.

“I have to be at work, but I’ll be done at seven and I’ll pick you up.”

“Great!” says Y/N, smiling as she holds the door open for Ben to leave.

“You’re going out with Ben tonight?” Harry frantically asks as he sits up straight on the sofa. His girlfriend closes the door and answers him with a firm nod.

“Yeah. Girls’ night out. Aren’t you going out with Niall?“

“No.” He shakes his head slowly. “I thought we were going to a movie.”

“No…We said next week.”

“We said today,” Harry asserts. He cannot be more certain because he remembers correctly everything Y/N has ever said to him (well, maybe minus the parts where she asks him to do chores or buy something on his way home). “But never mind. If you already have plan, we’ll go next week.”

Y/N only opens her mouth to speak when the power in the flat goes off all at once and she screams so loud that almost sends Harry flying off the sofa. He quickly walks towards the nearest window to open the curtain for some natural light, only to find the sun is setting, and it’s still raining cats and dogs.

Scattered showers pop up throughout the entire day, and Harry’s been hoping the weather would improve, but seemingly it only gets worse and worse as the day’s coming to an end. Now the only things he can make out through the thick, white rain curtain are the dim street lights and headlights from the vehicles rushing home to avoid the upcoming storm, which was mentioned in the weather forecast.

“Guess your plan’s cancelled.” Harry turns to Y/N, smiling a little bit. She sighs, but looks rather at ease.

“I guess so.”

...

Ben texts Y/N to let her know he’s safe from the storm, but is now stuck at a supermarket somewhere for it’s impossible to travel in this kind of weather. Harry follows Y/N into the kitchen, using his phone as a flashlight so she can see in the dark. She opens the cabinet and mumbles a small ‘yes’ when she finally finds the candles she’s been searching for. She bought them a while ago despite Harry complaining they would be a waste of money, now it’s been proven he was wrong and she was right.

As Y/N lights up several candles around the flat, Harry looks outside from the window, the sight in front of him could be taken straight out from a horror movie. The howling wind is slamming against the glass with violent force as if its intention was to break it and intrude into their living room. The rain’s pouring down harder than a waterfall, lightning strikes here and there, lighting up the sky for a second before vanishing, soon followed by the cracking sound of thunder shaking up the whole room.

“Stay close to me, I’m fragile…” Harry begs, clinging onto his girlfriend’s arm, making her giggle.

“What happened to ‘be the Lois Lane to my Superman’?”

“I was very inspired after that Superman movie, okay?”

The candles turn out to be a great idea, because their flat has been transformed from a horror classic to a Christmas film, all cosy and warm, the complete opposite of what’s going on outdoors. Harry’s settled on the sofa with his laptop lying on his belly, there’s no internet so he decides to work on his essay until his laptop runs out of battery. Y/N’s sitting on the floor beside him. She’s trying to follow Ben’s tips to paint her toe nails, it’s much more challenging when you do it in the faded candlelight though.

“Need any help?” Harry chuckles as he notices his girlfriend’s trembling fingers trying to not fuck up. She doesn’t look up at him now that her entire attention is on the tiny brush.

“As if you can do better,” she says. Harry immediately closes his laptop as a result, and moves to join her on the floor, sitting with his legs crossed.

“Psst. Gimme that!” With a smirk on his face, Harry takes the nail brush from his girlfriend, then slouches down a bit to carefully finish the first coat on her toe nail. Y/N widens her eyes in shock as it looks perfect on his very first attempt.

In response to Y/N’s reaction, Harry tells her, “I used to paint my nails.”

“No way.”

“Way. I thought black nail polish gave me the rock star look.”

Y/N can imagine Harry’s nail painted black and the thought of him touching her with those hands alone is enough to get her off mentally. 

“Let me paint your nails! It’d be so sexy.”

Her offer makes him snort. “I’m already sexy.”

“Even sexier!” she says, holding her hands together, big round eyes staring at him. “Please?”

He cannot say no to her, not after she’s pulled the puppy dog eyes and used that magic word on him. So Harry voluntarily gives her his hand and allows her to do whatever she wants with it, same goes with his heart. He is such a fool for her.

Y/N does struggle a little bit at the beginning, but with Harry’s guidance she's able to finish one hand, then she stops because she gets tired. 

“Hey, I want a refund. Do both!”

“You can do your left hand on your own, should be a piece of cake to you.” Y/N giggles then gives his right hand a kiss. “Seriously though, I’m impressed. I feel like there’s still so many things I haven’t learnt about you.”

“Well...” Harry takes a deep breath. “Now since we have nothing to do, why don’t we play a game of Truth or Truth to get to know each other better?”

“Truth or Truth?” Y/N stares at him funny.

“Like Truth or Dare, but you can only pick truth.”

“Sounds more like a police interrogation to me!”

“You’re in or not, Y/N?”

“In. I’m in.” Y/N clears her throat, tries her best not to laugh and sits up straight. “Okay, I will ask you first, because you know about me more than I do about you.”

“Fair enough.”

“Okay, Harry, when did you lose your first kiss and your virginity, and who did you lose them to?”

Harry presses his lips together as he throws his head back to look at the ceiling, thinking for a little while before he answers, “so I was fifteen when I lost both to the same person, an old friend of mine. Her family moved away a year later and I haven’t spoken to her since.”

Y/N furrows her eyebrows at Harry, clearly not happy to hear that answer. “What’s her name?”

“Olivia. Why?” Harry snorts, slightly amused by the obvious jealousy written on Y/N’s face. He loves to drive her mad, it’s been like that since the first time they met. “Told ya I haven’t talked to her in years, baby.”

“I thought I was your first real crush.”

“You are." Harry reaches out to stroke his girlfriend’s cheek and feels her soften all at once. “Ollie and I didn’t even date. We were kind of close friends, I’d known her since we were in middle school. We did it because we were just horny and curious, no romance involved, I assure you. Then she moved away and we lost touch.”

“Ollie and I,” Y/N mocks Harry’s voice, her arms crossed sternly in front of her chest. Harry scoots closer to her and pulls her onto his lap all of a sudden, making the girl squeal in shock. Still she doesn’t protest and eventually wraps her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist.

“I hate her,” she whispers against Harry’s lips with her eyes shut. She has no idea how much he’s enjoying how cute she looks when she’s jealous.

“Don’t hate her. She’s a stranger now. You’re my girl,” says Harry, staring at Y/N deep in the eyes then presses his thumb gently against her bottom lip. “Aren’t you?”

“I am. I’m your girl.” He makes her so fucking weak it’s embarrassing sometimes.

“Now, my turn to ask.” Harry chuckles and Y/N suddenly remembers they’re in the middle of this stupid Truth or Truth game. The sexual tension has made it impossible for her to concentrate and she secretly praises him for keeping his cool.

“Who’s your first crush? I know it ain’t me.”

Y/N giggles at the pout on his face. “One of my classmates in fifth grade. I thought he was cute, always helped me with Math and shared me his food at lunch.”

“Lameeee. Hate him already.”

“We were kids!” Y/N laughs, fingers toying with the hair at the back of Harry’s head. “Have I told you about my first time having sex?”

“Yeah, with your prom date, right?”

Y/N nods her head yes. “I was so drunk, and heartbroken that my ex-boyfriend cheated on me a few days before Prom. Having sex that night was the stupidest decision I’ve ever made. Had I waited a couple years later, I could’ve done it with you.”

“You mean...”

The look on Harry’s face cracks Y/N up. She nods fast. “If it was possible, I would want you to be my first, Harry.”

“Oh...” is Harry’s response because he’s utterly speechless, his inner voice, however, is screaming with joy. She must trust him a lot to even think about having him take her virginity, which, unfortunately will never happen, yet knowing so makes him thrilled to bits.

“I love you. Why’s it so hard to believe?” Y/N asks quietly with her forehead pressed against his and their noses touching. Harry closes his eyes and heaves out a heavy sigh.

“Lately you’ve been keeping your distance so I thought...”

Y/N immediately pulls away then grabs his face with both of her hands. “No, no, no. Gosh, the only reason I’ve been doing that is because I want to give you space. I noticed that you rarely went out with your friends anymore, don’t want you to change your life completely for me.”

Harry rolls his eyes. “Y/N, I rarely go out with my friends anymore because they either get completely wasted or find some random hookups. You don’t want me to do that, do you?”

She shakes her head rapidly without a second thought. Harry smiles at her contently.

“I don’t want to either. I have you now. Cheesy as this may sound, I’d choose staying at home doing homework with you over any party.”

And Y/N cannot stop grinning as she replays that sentence over and over again in her head. She says to him, “you turning into an anti social for me is the most romantic thing you’ve ever done.”

Harry places one hand on his left chest and pretends to be in so much pain. “You making jokes during my romantic moments is the least romantic thing you’ve ever done.”

“That makes two of us.” Y/N relaxes her shoulders and slides her hands from the back of his head down to his chest. In the soft candlelight, he watches her smile slowly fades away. She sucks in a breath then lets it all out. “I know I shouldn’t think too much about this, but I cannot help it...I’ve dealt with assholes my entire life, thinking that I’d be better off alone. And then you happened...and I can’t imagine losing you.”

“Baby...” Harry throws his head back as he secures his arms around her waist, pulling her in closer to him. “To be honest, I’m just as scared as you are, but looking back, my life kinda took its turning point on the day we met and it’s been a crazy ride but I’ve never been happier. Why don’t we just enjoy the moment and not worry too much about the future?” He takes her hands from his chest and holds them tight. “Right now, it’s just you and me against the world. Okay?”

“Okay.”

Y/N gives Harry a nod and leans in to reattach their lips, slightly pushing him down so he’s lying on his back and she's on top of him. Her fingers get lost in his hair whilst his find their way from her knees to her bottom then slide under her shirt, resting on her bare back after given a nod as her permission. This is the furthest they’ve gone in this relationship, but it’s not enough for Y/N. She wants him more than this. She has no idea what’s gotten into her when she straight off tells him, “I’m ready. Let’s do it.”

Harry, still trying to catch his breath, stares at his girlfriend in disbelief. Was she drunk, he would blame it on the alcohol, but she’s sober, and this is so unlike her, the pure and innocent Y/N he’s always known. He cannot say he’s not enjoying this.

“You’re sure?”

“Do I look like I’m not?”

“Feisty.” Harry chuckles, placing one hand at the back of her head, bringing her mouth back on his own as he flips them over so he’s now on top. 

“Do you want to move this to the bed?” he asks and she shakes her head. The only thing she wants right now is him. 

“Good, neither did I,” he admits and closes the space between them again. They’ve been waiting so long for this, they cannot wait any longer, even just a minute. Though having sex on the floor is not exactly the romantic scenario they’ve expected, with all the candles all around them, it’s pretty close, they would say. 

Harry and Y/N break apart for a brief second to pull his t-shirt off and hers soon follows, tossed away on the floor somewhere, leaving her half-naked in front of him for the first time. By the glow of the candlelight, he thinks she’s even more stunning, the shadows dancing across her features, accentuating the color of her hair. He parts his lips, wanting to tell her how beautiful she looks, but she’s already one step ahead of him.

“You’re so beautiful,” she breathes and his eyes sparkles with passion. 

“So are you,” he admires before coming back to her, pressing his nose to the dip of her throat and inhaling her, drunk with her scent. She’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. Harry holds his breath, slowly tracing his fingertips across her skin as if she was made of glass, easily breakable. 

The rest of their clothes soon come off, Y/N feels so vulnerable and exposed. This is not her first time having sex, why does it feel like it is? Maybe because of the way Harry’s caressing her cheeks, constantly asking if she’s okay, telling her how beautiful she is, the things that she didn’t get to hear on her actual first time. She’s so lost in him, completely infatuated by him. She believes she belongs to him, and even if she wanted to, she could never leave.

The rain is still thumping against the window, but all Harry and Y/N can hear is each other’s breathing and heartbeats. They’ve lost track of time as they kiss, two bodies kneading against each other. It’s all new to Harry, he’s never made love before, because he’s never been in love with anyone else. He knows this isn’t the first for neither of them but he wants to take his time with her, to make her feel good because she deserves that. 

Y/N lets out a light moan when his fingers find their way into her heat and he has to audibly remind her to start breathing again. He lays kisses all over her face, letting her know how good she feels and how much he loves her. It doesn’t take too long for Y/N to start squirming and biting on her bottom lip as she feels her release building, but she wants to fall over the edge with him inside of her so she grabs his wrist and stops him just in time. 

Harry withdraws his hand from her thigh and brings his fingers to his lips to lick them clean, the sight of it makes Y/N groan in desperation. She takes no time to bring his lips back to hers, tasting herself in the warmth of his mouth. It’s crazy how she hasn’t even reached her high yet and he’s already got her seeing stars.

Y/N pets Harry’s cheek as he pulls back and looks down at her. 

“You’re everything I’ve ever wanted.” His voice almost breaks as he holds her close and she clings to the back of his head. “I don’t want you to leave.”

His last words nearly bring her to tears. With all the shitty relationships in the past she almost thought no one would ever love her for real, now he’s here, telling her she’s everything he’s ever wanted, begging her to stay, proving all her doubts and fears wrong. He’s like her knight in shining armor.

“I’m not gonna leave, not ever,” she says, and she means every single word. 

"I love you,” he mumbles against her lips for the hundredth time, then lifts her legs to his hips as Y/N reaches down to take him in her palm, her sudden touch makes his breath hitch. 

“Wait...Condom,” he murmurs as his eyelids flutter and Y/N quickly assures him that she’s on the pills. Without hesitation, she slips the very tip of him inside her, the tightness causes both of them to gasp. 

She gives him a sly smile, holding his eye contact as she feels him slowly sink himself deep inside her. It takes her a while to adjust to this pleasing unfamiliarity. Harry thrusts slow and deep, causing his name to fall from her lips again and again. He holds her eye contact still, even though both of them are fighting to keep their eyes open. There’s no part of him that she cannot feel, and the feeling is just overwhelming. Harry’s eyes squeezing shut as he drops his head to her chest. She kisses his hair, fingers crawling down his back, letting the pleasure take over. The movement of his hips speeds up and Y/N feels the heat spreading through her veins. 

“Oh God, baby, fuck,” Harry curses against her skin while lifting both of their hips to get a better angle. Y/N arches her back as uncontrollable soft moans fall from her lips. She feels his entire body tense as well as her own.

“I’m so close,” she says breathlessly and he pushes her hair from her face, slipping his hand between their moving bodies to circle his finger tips against her clit, causing her to suck in a breath and clings tighter to his shoulders. 

“Let go baby,” he coaxes softly, his hips moving in time with his hand as he cries out when her walls clench tight around him.

Another moan escapes Y/N’s lips as she struggles to hold off her release. Harry speeds up slightly, goes a little deeper and harder and Y/N starts falling apart in his shaking arms. Harry’s mouth falls open, his brows pulled in and his eyes fight to stay open to witness her reaching her climax, repeating his name over and over again. He pushes though, even though his whole body is coming apart, and they both cry out until there’s nothing left they can give each other. 

All out of breath, Harry flips them over so she’s lying on his chest and he wraps his strong arms around her delicate body. They lay there on the floor, their breaths gradually come in sync after a little while and Y/N’s obliviously beaming when Harry tightens his grip and holds her close. Those small flickering flames around them grow dimmer every moment as the wax melts down, but Y/N can still make out a smile twitching at Harry’s lips. He takes her hand which is resting on his chest and raises it to his lips.

“If you’re wondering, we had sex, and I still love you.”

“I’m not wondering.” She kisses his cheek, closing her eyes and sighing. “And I love you too.”

[that-shamrock-vibe]

TV Review: Young Justice Outsiders Part 1 (Spoilers)

Spoiler Warning: The first part of Young Justice Outsiders is finally all available for viewing so I thought I would give my thoughts on Season 3 thus far, it won’t be in depth because for me this season hasn’t been but there are light spoilers so be warned.

General Reaction:

I have been a fan of Young Justice since I found out about the series, I love it. I love taking these sidekicks and putting them in the spotlight. It’s why I loved Teen Titans and Young Avengers. I guess because I discovered them while I was a teenager myself, season 1 aired in 2010 when I was 19 so technically that counts, that I relate to them but also the first two seasons of the show were so well done and made for gripping binge-worthy viewing.

So you can imagine that I, like many other fans of the show, was thrilled when after an injust cancellation it returned 5 years. The only problem is Young Justice: Outsiders lacks the spark and somewhat originality that the first two seasons had.

These first 13 episodes of season three lack centric main characters, a strong A-Storyline and, until the last 4 episodes, that gripping binge-worthiness I mentioned the first two seasons had. Instead we have an Easter-Egg season crammed with characters who are splintered into different groups who each have their own storylines that, again until near the end of the 13 episodes, don’t really tie-in with each other and feel like they each need their own shows to develop fully.

Also, there is another time jump between Season 2 and 3 which makes more sense here than it did between 1 and 2 because in real-time 5 years has passed since the end of Season 2 whereas there it seemed to be done to push ahead the story and give the franchise a Star Wars feel of making it a multi-media experience with the comic-book tie-in series filling in the space between 1 & 2.

What’s Good:

Alright so I want to be fair to the season because it does have some good aspects which I actually liked.

Fan Favourites:

I will get into the sheer volume of characters introduced to this season further down but for now I want to talk about the fan-favourites introduced who were somewhat fleshed out rather well.

Firstly Lady Shiva. I have never seen Lady Shiva before but I know she is a fan-favourite character and, considering the underwhelming performance of Talia al Ghul recently, a favored replacement for her. I still think Nyssa al Ghul is a good replacement particularly in Arrow but here I understand why people like her. I thought the fact she is the trainer of the new League of Shadows recruits as well as an Enforcer for The Light to be quite good, although I do find myself thinking that, as mentioned, Deathstroke was exactly in that position in the second season and he was barely used, I hope that’s not the case here.

Then there’s Cyborg. It’s about god-damn time they brought this guy in. Just when I thought this season was not going to get graphic or gory they give us Cyborg’s Post-New 52 origins and that imagery of Victor’s body after the explosion was so good for me. I also liked how they’ve updated the Cyborg look and now given him mood-lighting with Father Box control which causes an interesting relationship between him and new character Halo.

Finally there’s Terra. I am excited for what has been teased with Terra so far. The fact she was part of the Markovian Royal Family which was introduced in the first couple of episodes and then herself being properly introduced in the last episode with her Geokinetic powers, while not yet fully realized I am sure will be great.

Beast Boy:

So again this is very much a light spoiler review but what I will say is watch out and be patient for Beast Boy because he does not have that much to do at the start of the season and only really appears in snippets as the opening scenes of the episodes but in the penultimate episode of Season 3A it is all about Beast Boy and it’s probably my favourite episode despite one glaring aspect of it which is an Easter-Egg within the DC Multiverse.

What’s Bad:

Shifting Allegiances:

There is a big shake-up in how our heroes are affiliate themselves with in the first episode alone.

Not only do Batman and Black Lightning quit the Justice League, Batman taking other members with him for his own team, but the original Aquaman Arthur Curry, who has just had his own billion dollar movie released, is no longer in the League and instead his protege Aqualad has not only become the new Aquaman but the leader of the League.

Then there’s the Team which this series is supposed to focus on. Again there’s a shake-up in the roster and the team that is shown in the promotion is pretty much the team for this season but...because of all the other characters introduced this season we do not spend enough time getting to know the new team, the new members on the team or the reasons why the members of the team who were there at the end of last season aren’t there now.

For instance, it is kind of explained why Tigress and Superboy are no longer on the team as they’re part of Nightwing’s new team and therefore in that promo image not this one, but Guardian and Lagoon Boy all have left without explanation. We know what has happened to Beast Boy and Bumblebee has a kid and is pregnant again so that probably explains their reasoning. Guardian aka Mal Duncan and Lagoon Boy weren’t very interesting characters which maybe explains their absence in terms of production but in-canon that can’t be the only reason.

Arsenal was expelled from the team during Season 2 so his appearance in this line-up raised curiosity, but he only appears in one episode but not with a single member of this team and instead with his fellow Roy Harpers.

Then new team members Arrowette, Spoiler and Thirteen who were promoted are barely used. Yes Robin II aka Tim Drake leaves the team and takes Arrowette and Spoiler under his leadership to form their own team with new character Orphan, but Arrowette and Spoiler were both introduced as civillians in Season 2 yet nothing is done to reference that. In fact many people thought Arrowette was Artemis in a new suit at first.

Thirteen remains on the team but I do not think has a speaking line and if she does it’s forgettable. All I know about this character is she is the protege of Zatanna but she has her own problems this season apparently and so this completely new character is barely utilized properly.

Also Blue Beetle, Bart Allen as Kid Flash, Static and Wonder Girl are all returning characters yet hardly either seen, utilized or developed in this season. Static loses Black Lightning as a mentor and Wonder Girl is seemingly dumped by Tim Drake when he quits the team due to Batman leaving the League, but Blue Beetle and Bart Allen who were focal characters last season are blink and miss them characters this season...glorified cameos at best.

Too Many Characters:

This brings me on to my biggest issue with this season, there are way too many characters introduced and involved in this season. There are 13 episodes but it feels like they have a combined total of 130 characters introduced. We have new characters that we are supposed to focus on and new ones that seem to be there just to be there.

For instance, new characters like Cyborg, Forager, Halo and Geo-Force I get we are supposed to focus on, but Cyborg isn’t introduced until Episode 10 and then heavily focused on for 4 episodes, while the latter three are all introduced at the start of the season and slowly and organically developed.

Then there are characters like Steel and Katana who I almost forgot were introduced at the start of Episode 1 until Episode 10 when there were slightly more prominent.

Speaking of that Episode 1 Easter-Egg hunt, once Batman announces he is leaving the Justice League he makes it clear that four members of the league are resigning to join him, Katana, Plastic Man who was introduced in Season 1 and again to this day I cannot say if he’s actually had any speaking lines, Hardware who I have no clue as to who that is and Batwoman...Batwoman! You had probably the best LGBT superhero and yet she’s only seen in two images and that’s it. What, the, hell!

Then Episode 9 “Home Fires” is an episode full to the brim with Easter-Eggs, I can’t even call them characters because aside from maybe three of them none of them are focused on. Along with Bart Allen who actually has something to do here, Iris West-Allen actually has some comedic moments and then Karen aka Rocket who has some speaking lines and Lynn Stewart-Pierce who is the ex-wife of Black Lightning but isn’t as good here as Christine Adams portrays her on Black Lightning aside from the fact that in this continuity she is the sister of John Stewart aka Green Lantern.

Aside from them, there’s the introduction of Lois Lane with son Jonathan, the reintroduction of Red Tornado’s human-looking form John Smith with daughter Traya Sutton, a pregnant Bumblebee, Iris and Barry’s twins Dawn and Don, Mera and son of Aquaman Artur, Rocket’s sassy son Amisted and the re-introduction of Black Lightning and Lynn’s daughter Anissa and Jennifer Pierce.

Away from this storyline in the episode is the reintroduction and death of Ocean-Master along with the introduction of Lady Shiva who kills him and the introduction of Granny Goodness. All this was just in the one episode.

Then we have Ra’s al Ghul and his followers, I can’t say League anymore because Ra’s has left both the League and The Light and Deathstroke seems to have taken his place in both, we are reintroduced to his followers such as Ubu and the Sensei but also introduced to the cameos of Talia al Ghul, Damien Wayne and a mysterious Red-Hooded Ninja...

Also when we are finally reintroduced to Batman and his new team, the only one we see return is Katana along with new character Metamorpho...I don’t know who this character is but I like him.

Wonder Woman said it best in Episode 8 when there’s a meeting of all the leaders of these hero teams and says that between her, Batman, Aquaman(lad), Nightwing, Robin, Miss Martian and Oracle. they do in fact have 5 teams at their disposal. That is way too many teams to focus on in one season, particularly when 3 of those teams haven’t been properly established yet and the other two have had massively unexplained shake-ups.

Missed Opportunities:

As mentioned before, there is another time jump between Seasons 2 and 3, here it is two years rather than five as it was Between 1 and 2 which makes no sense because less real-time has passed in each gap but I digress.

However, once again due to this time jump, we miss out on some major development. The biggest crime being that one of comics most famous stories, The Killing Joke is seemingly told as Barbara goes from Batgirl to Oracle and able-bodied to wheelchair bound.

Now maybe Young Justice creators took inspiration from the only time that story has been told in film or television and thought just to skip it but then why not have a spin-off series centred on the Bat-Family, which has grown this season not just by Batwoman and Spoiler but also Orphan and Harper Row who in the comics becomes Bluebird to make a grand total of 10 Bat-Family members, so you can flesh out these characters and iconic stories.

What’s Teased:

Alright to end this review on a somewhat positive note I want to talk about what  is hopefully teased for the back-half of this season coming in June.

Terra:

Firstly we have Terra aka Tara Markov. Introduced at the start of this season but then formally introduced in Episode 13 as the Geokinetic Metahuman who is apparently enslaved on Bialya and later rescued by Nightwing’s team. However, the ending tease for the season shows Terra being taken in by the Team and secretly messaging Deathstroke who is now the leader of the League of Shadows having never apparently left the League apparently.

The only issue with this is it seems they’re playing out The Judas Contract which has also recently been told recently in the animated films. I mean it is clear at this point that they’re making the team in this series their version of the Teen Titans without calling them that but we shall see if we actually get to see this played out.

Red Hood and Damien Wayne:

Two Robins for the price of one. Jason Todd as an in-canon character was never physically shown on screen in the second season as he was apparently introduced and killed in that 5 year gap. However, with the introduction of this Red-Hooded Ninja who is under Ra’s al Ghul’s leadership with the exact same hairstyle as Jason Todd...it stands to reason that we will soon meet Red Hood in Season 3b.

Now as for Damien Wayne, Talia is introduced as a cameo this season as she watches Nightwing’s team flying away standing besides her father Ra’s holding a baby boy in her arm. It stands to reason that this is Damien and so unless we have a time-jump of 10 years I doubt we’ll see him again in any major capacity but the fact he has been introduced is big if the show reaches that 10 year gap.

Baby Sidekicks:

So as well as Damien, we have the infant forms of Don & Dawn Allen aka the Tornado Twins and Jonathan Samuel Kent aka a future Superboy. Also this season we meet Anissa and Jennifer Pierce who in the future become Lightning and Thunder respectively.

These pose as great teases but much like Damien, unless there’s a jump by 10 years I doubt they’ll be heavily focused on.

Apokolips Now:

Alright so Apokolips is DC’s hot topic at the moment, not only did they try to push it and Darkseid in the movies until Justice League fell flat but also the end tease of Season 2 showed Darkseid meeting with Vandal Savage and they are now apparently associates just as The Light were with The Reach in Season 2.

Now while any sort of Apokolips influence is minimal this season thus far, we do get an episode on New Genesis, a reintroduction to the Forever People as well as Mother Boxes and an introduction of Forager.

All this I feel is gearing up for Darkseid to either be the big bad of Season 3 overall or the overall villain of Season 4. Either way they are currently teasing Darkseid like they teased Thanos and that tease paid off in Infinity War so allow a series with those stakes.

Recommendation:

So overall I have to say, this season has a gripping ending but it took a very long time getting there. It never felt like a chore but at the same time the other two seasons gripped me from the start. I am still looking forward to Season 3b but I will be curious to see if the 5 month wait is worth it or not.

I will give this part of Season 3 a rating of 6/10, it was an okay start with a dragged out middle and an exciting ending. Hopefully the excitement will run the way through the rest of the season.

So that’s my review of Young Justice: Outsiders (Part 1) what did you guys think? Post your comments and check out more TV Reviews as well as other posts.

[grimoiregirlsbook]

01:

A Lament For Al’s Pancake World

A wind carries with it no voices, no songs, no texture whatsoever. This distilled breath finds its way through crevices unknown to even rats, and how desperately have they burrowed their way into this derelict building. Even as four individuals covered in grime-laden flesh feel the welcomed lick of cool air, any sound is refused.

Characterized by a pout and straight black hair stuck to her skull, Lorelai sits at a table where two companions occupy where her parents once had sat. Across from her would be her daughter, missing, though presumably safe. Instead, there is a man consumed by heat but who can no longer sweat.

Formerly the owner of his town’s only soda shop, the elderly Taylor Doose remains proud of his inability to succumb to death.

Occasionally the man will peer down at his wrist and remember the moment he had lost a majority of his left hand. Chewed away and wrapped up in cloth moistened with blood, he has virtually become useless to his party. To his left, Lorelei’s right, is a thin lad encumbered with exhaustion and a fidgeting leg.

“Oh, Kirk. Would you please stop that incessant…” Taylor exhales and is unable to finish his sentence. His head bobs forward when a chill runs through his body. “That incessant…”

“It’s restless leg syndrome, Taylor, and it’s a common ailment of men between the ages of fourteen and seventy-two.” His tort does not inspire a response. “If we’re really going there, I’d ask you to stop breathing so heavily. The rhythm of my lungs naturally attunes to those who are nearest to me, and if you’re exhaling at a rate above a-hundred-four beats per minute, my anxiety tends to…”

Lorelai raises her hand. Her eyes are shut so tight she can remember what fireworks look like. All three look to her with expectation, perhaps some wisdom or comforting words. “Everybody needs to shut up. Like, right now.”

The fourth occupant of the dinner table pipes up. “I agree. Everyone is bickering like little annoying dogs. Chihuahuas.”

“For once, I think I agree with Mrs. Kim. You are all acting like chihuahuas, the mutant rejects of the animal kingdom.”

Kirk shrugs. “I think they’re sweet.”

“I had a chihuahua growing up,” Taylor’s voice breaks. The three are silent. This is the first time Lorelai paid attention to his tongue: dry, scaly. Something resembling empathy rises in her and she flutters her eyelashes after feeling a lump grow in her throat. “A sweet dog, yes,” he continued. “But infamously difficult to train.

���I remember I must have been ten, maybe twelve. No, eleven. Eleven…” His mind trails away and the story ceases like a water hose gradually losing pressure.

The four return their attention to themselves and the ever-growing hunger in the pit of their stomachs. Lorelai knows she must have lost weight. The way they look at her anymore spikes her self-image issues. She notices how she inadvertently covers her arms and avoids eye contact, more-so now than she ever had in high school.

Another gentle gust rolls in. Her mouth parts to breathe in this cool air that cuts through their sweltering sanctuary. “I think it’s going to rain.”

“Rain always excites me,” Kirk claims with a croak. “Something about the electricity in the air. My body is sensitive enough to feel the change of electromagnetic pressure in the atmosphere. My mother always used to call me her little thunder rod.”

Mrs. Kim frowns, and Lorelai verbalizes what she is unable to muster the strength to say. “Don’t you mean ‘lightning rod’?”

He looks down at the table and creases his browline. “I don’t know.” This distant memory, no longer relevant or clear. “Maybe.”

There is a sound from the other room that stirs them from an incoming depression. Each look to the hallway that connects to the kitchen, sans Taylor who is, instead, viewing a movie under his eyelids. A man, unshaved and tired, emerges with a tray of cold sandwiches. “I scraped the mold off of the bread the best I could. What, you’re going to be picky now?”

Lorelai crosses her arms and watches as the serving tray is placed in the center of the table. This stirs Taylor from his rest. Kirk cocks his head. “Is that safe to eat?”

“Safe?” Luke scoffs. “Nothing’s going to be safe for a while, Kirk. Might as well fast if you’re worried about contamination, especially here. What, have your parents ever heard of canned goods?”

Spawn of Gilmore rolls her eyes. “Well, there. That’s the thing. My parents believe that, by default, nothing from a can is good.”

“Try telling Budweiser that. Here,” he bites down into the corner of a sandwich that was cut in half. Through a full mouth, he insists, “Perfectly safe. Delicious. Eat it.”

Kirk removes himself from the table without a word. Luke frowns. “What, too good for a little bit of mold?”

“Oh, no, never. I am going to wash up, though.”

“You’re going to wash up before eating mold?”

“Even while society falls, we must maintain our dignity by living as we would. Civilized, sanitized. Also,” his shoulders straighten. “I have to pee.”

Mrs. Kim shakes her head and Lorelai turns to her with a dim smile. Mentally, she considers how difficult it has been to comfort the woman who is separated from her daughter as well. Though the bond is different and at times estranged, there is no terror as specific as being uncertain about a loved one’s fate.

She can ascertain, however, that Lane is perfectly fine and more-than-likely holed up in the same stead as Rory. Perhaps they are regaling each other with stories of the olden days. It is possible that they are laughing at a strangely specific observation. It is possible that they are able to survive in the same way her mother is, the same way this room full of people are.

Luke’s voice breaks her from this trance. “Is he okay?” She looks to Taylor, who is now shivering in violent throngs.

“Looks like a totally normal reaction to a zombie bite.”

“Oh, zombie this, zombie that. Spare me. Those are just - just sick people who have gone crazy or something.”

Lorelai’s eyes reduce to a sliver. “You can tell that to my mom. No, feel free! She’s upstairs, waiting for you to tell her that the flesh-craving is just a minor symptom of the common cold.”

He is silent for a moment. Taylor’s groans of pain fill the empty space. “I’m not saying it’s the cold, but…”

“Luke.” She shakes her head, telepathically forcing a suggestion to drop the conversation. He agrees with a snarl and a silent mock. Lorelai ignores her sandwich and focuses her attention to the man opposite her. “Taylor, sweetie, can you hear me?”

The old man blinks, disoriented. His eyes are not trained to any specific point. “Hm. Huh?”

“Do you feel good enough to eat something? It’s no pancake from Al’s Pancake World, but it’s something. Are you thirsty? The taps in the bathrooms still work.” Though there is no verbal response, the state of the man is enough to elicit action. Luke shakes his head when the woman begins to shift in her seat.

“I’ll get it. No, sit. Eat the moldwich.” With confidence -- because at least one of them must have some amount of it -- he quickly walks to the bathroom after grabbing a scotch glass from the late Richard Gilmore’s liquor cart. Remembering the escapade of his companion, he knocks on the door. “Kirk, you gotta let me in.”

There is no response. Luke frowns and tries at the handle, and to his surprise, it opens with ease. He peeks in. “Kirk?” Even though the man is gone, there is evidence of his brief visitation.

Luke cranes his neck and looks into the toilet. He suppresses a gag, rolls his eyes, and turns on the faucet. Nothing comes out.

Back in the dining room, Lorelai is pacing. She attempts to calm herself down by refusing the interior dialogue that struggles to become exterior. She tries to remember how to breathe let alone exhale slow, deep breaths. The panting of Taylor increases over time, and so does her anxiety.

Ms. Kim slams the table with either palm and knocks Lorelai from her trance. The exhausted woman points to the injured man. “Would you stop that? Always breathing -- heh, heh, heh. Just die already!”

“Mrs. Kim!” Lorelai finally allows her lungs to clear from stagnant breath. “That is - that is so mean.”

“I don’t understand why we must keep him around. Look at him! Pale and sick and dying. Where is the gun?”

“No. We’re not… Taylor, hush, sweetie. Nothing’s going to happen.”

Luke passes through the threshold with a still-empty cup. “Uh, everything okay, guys?”

“No!” Mrs. Kim stands up from her seat. “We must kill Mr. Doose before he becomes a monster like the others, like your mother.” She directs a hard glare to Lorelai, who quickly looks away after feeling a paralyzing shock run through her body.

“Oh, nope. No, you don’t.” Luke approaches the hysteric woman and places the empty glass on the table. “You’re not allowed to emotionally torment us when we already have very real, physical torment just outside of these doors.”

Lorelai runs her hands through her thick, graying hair and cups her ears. The voices come muffled now. He continues: “There are solutions other than violence. Plus, between you and me, I’d rather not waste one of our precious bullets on a man that looks like a strong breeze could evaporate him.”

Mrs. Kim raises her chin. “Go on.”

“Okay, good,” he says, relieved. “We can start delegating in a totally cool-headed way. I’m glad to see that we can communicate with each other about this instead of resorting to, you know, murder. There’s always a simple solution.”

“You have no idea what to do, Luke Danes.” The sound of Mrs. Kim’s voice has always cut through him as she was one of the few women to completely intimidate him. Lorelai creases her brow and unlatches her hands from her ears. She crosses them and cocks her hips.

“Oh, come on, Mrs. Kim. Luke of all people not having a plan?” The woman laughs and looks to an unconvinced Mrs. Kim and a nearly comatose Taylor Doose. “That’s - that’s why they call him the man with the plan. Right?”

Not receiving an answer, she verbally prods him once more. “Right, Luke?” He begins to cock his shoulders in a slow shrug. “What? No, no, no.” She rounds the sharp corner of the dinner table, cuts in front of Mrs. Kim, and closes in on the uncertain man.

“Listen, Lorelai,” he begins while rubbing the back of his neck. His voice reduces. “Maybe we should do something about Taylor. I mean, look at the state of him.” She humors him by examining the man; bereft of color, gasping for one of the few instances a breeze could be felt.

She does not respond immediately. Her gaze floats like a transient yellow rubber duck upon a freshly drawn bath. “We have two more bathrooms.”

Luke blinks. “One more time?”

“Two more bathrooms. Mom’s in the upstairs master. The guest bathroom in the hallway is free. I don’t want to put him down here, because, you know, just in case, I guess.”

He looks at her creased face and empathizes with what little energy she has left. This compromise saps her remaining reserves of hope.

Luke chews on the inside of his lower lip and straightens his posture. “I’ll need help getting him upstairs. No, you can stay here. I’ll find Kirk.” An uninvolved Mrs. Kim re-seats herself, but not before grabbing the empty scotch glass. She stares into the bottom and imagines the taste of every liquor it has once held.

“Find Kirk?” Lorelai tilts her head. Her voice still holds passivity. “I thought he was just using the bathroom.”

He shrugs and pulls away from the conversation without another word, leaving Lorelai to stand alone, idly bobbing like the useless rubber duck she hated imagining herself as.

Once again, Luke disappears from the room but his voice can still be heard calling for the missing companion.

He travels up the flight of stairs and knocks on the wall as he does. “Kirk?” His voice projects and cuts through the cement maze that is the Gilmore mansion. “You gotta help me out here.”

Intuitively, he approaches the guest bathroom. Even as his body contours around a wall he is able to see the door cracked and the lights off. He hums inquisitively and feels worry crease his forehead. “Kirk, buddy, you better not be doing anything stupid.”

He waits for a response but instinctively knows that somewhere within this building, Kirk was indeed doing something stupid and perhaps even dangerous. The man considers a mental archive of each possibility and flares his nostrils when one resonates particularly so.

Luke sets off to the master bedroom where a disoriented Emily Gilmore resides. Excommunicated, alone, infected.

He keeps his footsteps quiet as to not alert his companions downstairs. Heel to toe, he deftly navigates the tight labyrinth and eventually happens upon the master bedroom where a soft voice speaks with child-like innocence.

Kirk speaks to the bathroom door. “It’s okay, Mrs. Gilmore. I’m just going to use your sink for a few seconds. Maybe use a hand towel if you have a clean one you’re not using.” He feels a new presence and turns to an angry Luke.

“Jesus, Kirk! Are you insane?”

“I just need to get in there for just a moment, you know? Just a quick moment.” He reaches for the door handle and Luke lurches to swat his hand away. The frail man observes the back of his left hand. “Ow. That’ll probably bruise.”

Luke’s nostrils flare and his mouth parts open to further admonish him, but a thump against the bathroom door causes either man to jump. “Okay. We have to get out of here.”

“That’s probably a fair assessment, but, Luke, the downstairs faucet isn’t working.”

“Don’t wash your hands, then.” Another thump, this time with more force. “I don’t think that door is going to hold. We need to lock her in here.”

Kirk nods and claps his hands together with excitement. “Great! I’ll open this right up and you can distract her while I run in and wash up.”

Incredulous, Luke is unable to prevent Kirk from following through with his own asinine plan. His eyes widen and feels time slow around him as he watches the door swing open to reveal Emily Gilmore.

Sunken cheeks and dim eyes are fixtures on a canvas of skin that has since lost any familiar color. Makeup is smeared from her lips up to just below her right temple. A concave eye is made beauteous by uneven liner and a nude eyeshadow.

As Kirk brings the door to a full pivot, Luke is able to see the damage on the inside of the door: expensive makeup residue patterned within the splintered wood. Dark, unhealthy blood had been exhaled on the walls inside of the bathroom. The shower curtain is mostly dislocated, with few rings remaining intact.

Emily Gilmore locks her remaining eye on the man in front of her. Somewhere deep within her skull spins the few gears that belong to lucidity.

Backward hat, the corpse churns this recursive thought through sickness induced mania. Backward hat, backward hat.

She lunges forward and pauses to regain control of her failing nervous system. Luke backs up in short strides with his hands positioned just inches ahead of his chest. “Emily, Mrs. Gilmore,” he attempts to reason with the woman in a quiet, synthetically calm voice. “Kirk just has to use the bathroom. You can have it back after he’s done…” He cranes his neck around her to watch him hovering over the sink. “After he’s done washing his hands.”

Her lips curl and reveal shattered teeth. The force of her clenched jaw coupled with a bereft of pain receiving faculties has resulted in a loss of all of her front teeth. Her hair, however, is still in pristine form.

Another step forward and she trips over her own feet. This opening is enough for Luke to make an executive decision.

The toe of his boot, having known soil both dry and moist as well as the grease-slicked tiles of his restaurant for decades, is now introduced to the underside of Emily Gilmore’s throat.

The force of his response tears a hole in the woman’s neck. Her weak flesh rips away and Luke’s foot is shallowly burrowed. The woman squelches in pain, the sound muffled and reduced, garbled from the blood that she chokes on through this.

Kirk pokes his head out of the door as Luke heaves the woman off of his shoe. He looks up and furrows his brow with such intensity the man thought it would be better for him to find new residence in the decimated bathroom.

“You son of a bitch,” he barks through gritted teeth. For just a second, he watches the infected woman struggle against the ground. She claws at his ankles, but he steps over her to avoid the simple attacks. As Luke approaches, Kirk reaches to shut the door. “Don’t you dare, Kirk. Don’t you --”

“Get away, you lunatic!”

“Me? I’m the lunatic?”

Just as the metal lock connects with its home and the wooden door meets its frame, the same bloody boot connects with the mullion and collapses the door inwards. Kirk strafes away to avoid the intruder he once considered an ally.

While Luke’s boots are familiar with the concept of hard work and have been purchased with the idea of friction in mind, Kirk’s shoes have only known the feeling of escapism. Loosely connected activities, incomplete schemes. Never once grounded in a shared reality.

They do know now, however, the taste of old blood.

As the heel licks the metallic paste left over from somewhere in Emily’s lungs, the man is able to feel himself fall backward. The nape of his neck wraps over the side of the exposed bathtub where within many jets were installed to provide a comfortable yet exciting bathing experience.

Luke is frozen. He feels the cold drip of terror work its way through his lungs, and then into his esophagus. Dehydrated as he already was, there was even less moisture left on his tongue and none in the back of his throat. He speaks, but his words are made of dust: “Kirk? Are you okay, buddy?”

The man’s body is limp and impossibly contorted. “Kirk?” He hesitates before stepping forward. Luke’s head bobs forward like an unsure cat in an empty alleyway. His heart thrums in triplets -- each third beat further closing his throat.

Kirk’s hands and feet simultaneously twitch. Luke can feel all collected air escape from his lungs in the manner of one second. He is lightheaded and clutches his chest to calm his flailing heart. “Oh, my God. I was really worried there. Here, let me - let me help you up.”

He extends his left hand and uses his right for support against the cool wall. Another full-body twitch from Kirk, but no verbal response. Luke’s fingers wilt and he slowly pulls away. Two more twitches, then a seizure. His nostrils flare and, as if by divine timing, he turns away from Kirk to witness another stressor.

The body of Emily Gilmore had dragged its way out of the bedroom and left with it a trail of mucus and blood. He resolves to deal with her as his top priority but first tries to seal the door to the best of his ability. The hinges were destroyed in his breach and he is still able to clearly see Kirk’s spazzing body.

Luke does not have to travel far to meet up with the tenacious corpse. She hears his footfall and turns to face him. He is not able to look at her for more than a second before feeling nausea overwhelm him.

With a deep breath, he moves to grab her ankles and drag her back into her bedroom. Flecks of loose skin and crumbled teeth are left in her wake.

As he re-enters the room, he notices Kirk has dislodged himself from his previous position. While gripping Emily’s ankles, he keeps a close eye on the ostensibly dead man. “Kirk?” He calls once more. There is a belch as a reply. Luke drops Emily’s feet and quickly shuts the bedroom door before returning to Kirk with anxiety in his chest.

The man is not dead, nor is he alive. The same look as the late Emily Gilmore is etched on his face, sculpted deep within his eyes where there is no intelligent luster, but a drained well of lost sentience. “You too, huh?” Luke breathes this out and feels wasps of guilt swarm his thoughts.

Behind him is a snarling Emily Gilmore, the first of their party to be lost to the terrible and unknown disease. Several feet from Luke is the second, a man whose death could be somewhat beneficial for their longevity. He frowns and idles for a long moment. There is a sharp voice that calls his name.

Lorelai is at the bottom step, too weak to continue more than this. “Luke, are you okay?” There is minor panic in her voice after having heard a strange commotion. In the next room, Taylor’s pained heaving has reduced to calm, short breaths. She thinks about the sick man and wonders if she should feel relieved or even more worried.

Soft steps alert her, but she recovers with a genuine smile as she sets her eyes upon the grizzled but handsome Luke Danes. He tries to smile but his words do not carry with them the confidence they should have. “Hey. You okay?” They travel back to the kitchen with a quickened pace.

“Yes, but you aren’t. Obviously.” Lorelai looks behind her shoulder to examine the staircase. “What’s going on? Where’s Kirk?”

“Alright.” Luke clears his throat. He examines Mrs. Kim from the end of the room staring them down, and then Taylor with raised eyebrows. “He’s looking better.”

Lorelai’s smile acts more as a grimace. She is waiting for him to communicate with her and he picks up on this. “Kirk, erm, he… Yeah, do I really have to say it?”

“What? Yes, you do,” Lorelai’s voice raises and the neurotic woman stands up from her seat once again. He huffs and crosses his arms as Mrs. Kim joins the conversation with wide, speculative eyes. “What happened to him?”

Mrs. Kim scoffs. “Kirk?” He nods with a short sigh.

“Best to just tell you, I suppose. Alright! He freed Emily and -- no, Lorelai, listen. He wanted to wash his hands, and…”

The daughter of the household’s pet corpse looks up. A chandelier catches the corner of her eye. Cobwebs connect to multiple bulbs, once acting as a bridge for eight-legged critters. “She bit him.”

Luke freezes. He examines the woman he had known for as long as he could remember.

Even as many old memories have begun to fade -- holidays, festivals, birthdays, Lorelai remains a fixture in his mind. Every moment he closes his eyes, no matter how tired or distracted, the woman eventually finds her way into his mental cinema.

He sucks his lips for a long time before replying with a slow nod. Luke is unable to bring himself to lie, not out loud, not in his own voice.