#i have been working on this for. One hundred years. hooray it is done I can do something else.

[chiropteracupola]

I said: “My dear comrade, if you’re fond of the gaming / There’s one game I know I would like you to learn / The game it is called: The Game of All Fours” / So I took out my pack and began the first turn…

[salty-dracon]

hey whats that one city of yours thats a manmade horror plotting the destruction of the united states?

Welcome to Sancoline (I think that's what I'm going to call it), the setting of my original sci-fi/fantasy WIP Lost Gods of the Holy City and the manmade horror plotting the destruction of the United States. Its architecture is based off several cities, mostly Mumbai, NYC, and some cyberpunk cities. Physically it's located somewhere in Arizona or New Mexico.

This story's heavy on lore and the fact that the city itself is a manmade horror in the first place is kind of an endgame spoiler, but whatever.

The story takes place in the far future, 200 years from now. The story of the city's founding is that 70 years prior to the beginning of the main story, the US was destroyed by a bomb that landed somewhere in the Midwest that also basically turned the entire continental US into a giant empty desert. Most humans didn't survive, so eight angels fell to earth and each one helped found a city for humans to live in. Sancoline (Santa Colina Negra, Spanish for "holy black hill", named after the giant black base the city was built on) is the story's setting. Almost everyone who lives in the city migrated there or is descended from someone who did. And they all live happy lives in a world where nanomachine surgery is common, magic exists (hooray for angels) and people are guaranteed a way to live.

Except that's not the truth. The main characters realize early on that the Sancoline they're trapped in is just a simulation- most of the people in the city are NPCs and the remainder are real people who are comatose in the real world but experiencing a shared dream. Furthermore, their memories have been altered- the rest of America was not destroyed. It's alive and well, albeit embroiled in a terrible civil war. Said war is more or less an allegory for the current American sociopolitical hellscape if it turned to all-out war. The main characters battle against enemies who know the truth and want to protect the simulation from threats. They learn that the simulation basically serves to cultivate the minds of and protect those that the administrator (the young man in the picture) deems "good enough to protect from the rest of the world". Every person in the simulation has continually done something selfless to protect their community- those are the only real people in the simulation. The main characters learn eventually that they're trapped in an AI-defended building. People who try to break into the building, to harvest the comatose bodies or to break them out, are punished by being forcibly plugged into the simulation and tortured there, hence why no one on the outside has saved them yet.

Except even that's not the truth. The entire city is very much real- it's not just a building. It's an unfathomably massive swarm of nanobots the size of Manhattan plus a hundred feet of ground. Everyone who's ever gone there, including the protagonists and the villains, have been assimilated by the swarm. Their memories were copied from their bodies and uploaded into the simulation (where they are projections made by nanobots), and then their real bodies killed and discarded. The administrator has been controlling the nanobots to target those who selflessly protect their community, invite them to the city, and then assimilate them, leaving their community without them. Their ultimate goal is to cause the downfall of the United States, kill everyone, and then reseed everyone whose minds they've assimilated to create a new, better humanity. (Basically, salvage "good" people, kill everyone else, let fascism do the work for you.) Even some of the bad guys didn't know that they were dead IRL, and that makes them switch sides.

Still haven't decided if the protagonist should become the next administrator and continue the cycle of death or if he should shut the whole thing down.

So yeah, that's just a long-winded way of saying "manmade horror plotting the destruction of the united states" (unfathomably large swarm of nanobots which wants to kill 99% of americans by taking away the few people who have been selflessly supporting the majority and leaving the rest to the wolves)

If you're looking for similar media about fucked up cities, consider picking up the Caligula Effect game series (first one bad second one fantastic) and 13 Sentinels: Aegis Rim.

[zermizomilk]

Harper: Another story I heard about myself, this one happened in the Circus. We had the Ringleader of the circus whose friend went to the circus. His name was Alakazam and his friend Axle Kazam went to our circus. He was a robot, when Al was a person. And Alakazam... Was an asshole, and one weekend he and his wife decided to leave town, which you should never do, if you're an asshole. And Axle decided to throw a party at the ringleader's house. "Hooray!" And everyone around town heard about it and we all got up individually and thought, "Okay, let's go over there and destroy the place." I walked into this party. Everyone I had ever met was there and everyone was drinking like it was the end of the world. People were drinking like it was the Civil War and a doctor was coming to saw our legs off.  It was totally unsupervised.  We were running wild.

I walked down- I walked down to the basement. They had a pool table in the basement. One dude took a running start and threw his body onto the pool table and broke it in half. Another guy found out which room was the ringleader's and went upstairs and took a shit on his desk....

So the party was going great!

I'm standing in the basement, and I'm holding a red cup (you've seen movies), and I'm standing there and I'm holding a red cup and I'm starting to black out... And I guess someone said like "Something, something police"

An a brilliant moment of word association... I yelled: "Fuck da police! Fuck da police!"

And everyone else joined in.

A hundred drunken people all yelling “Fuck da police”.

With the confidence of guys who have already been to jail and aren't afraid of it anymore, you know that like, "I'll serve my nickel, you come and take me!" confidence.

The reason someone had said "something, something police" was because the police were there.

So a local police officer walked down the stairs and got to the bottom in the basement and looked out over a sea of drunk idiots all yelling "Fuck the police!"

In his face!

And he was almost impressed.

He was like "Wow." And then he leaned into his walkie-talkie and went "Get the paddy-wagon."

And my friend Juno, who is now a father, this man now has a baby, he grabbed a 40, smashed it on the ground, and yelled "Scatter!"

And everyone ran into different directions! We all ran in different directions! It was like that scene in Ratatouille when the humans come in the kitchen and all the rats go in different ways! We all ran in different directions.

I ran into the laundry room and I jumped up on the washing machine and I crawled out through a window into the backyard and now I'm running through the backyard and there was this big chain link fence and I thought "I've never climbed a fence that high before!" And then I woke up at home.

On Monday... I went to work because that's what I did back then. And I'm walking into the Circus and who do I see but Axle. And he says to me, "Hey, were you at my party on Saturday?" And I said "No."

You know, like a liar.

And he said "Things got really outta hand. Someone broke the pool table..... Someone took a shit on my Al's desk. But the worst thing," he says; "the worst thing is that someone stole these old antique photos of his grandmother and my he's freaking out about it."

And I had that thought.... That only blackout drunks can have... "Did I do that?"  I figured no. I wouldn't have done that.  But I was never sure...

Until two years later...

(Crowd ohhh) Relax.  I'm playing games with this guy named Z that I also went to the circus with. We're playing games for a couple hours, and then Z says to me, "Hey, come here I want to show you something."

And he takes me into his bedroom. And then he takes me into a side room off of his bedroom. Never a good thing to have. He shows me a tiny room that is covered wall to wall in stolen antique photos from different people's parties over the years. 

And I say... "Why? Why do you do this?" And Z goes: "Because it's the one thing you can't replace."

That's the end of that story, but how fucked up is that, right? That's crazy. So I don't drink anymore.

Story stolen from John Mulaney (and also heavily edited lol)

lmao

[afewrandomthoughts]

Flashback: Late Fall 2022

Trying to repair our relationship, my partner and I engage the service of a couples counselor (at her insistence and my expense)

Partner has yet to reveal to either counselor or myself what I did to cause so much trouble between us. She did list three things that did not seem to be deal breakers.

The umbrella terms “betrayal of trust” and “boundary issues” are used.

Disclosure: She wouldn’t say what she believed I had done; not to me nor the counselor. I relayed what partner had told me were the root causes.

On advice from counselor I purchase a couples therapy workbook. Partner drags feet on purchase, claims she will borrow copy from sister.

A recommended exercise from the book is to write letters of gratitude to one another. I suggest that we have these letters mailed within seven days.

Seven days later:

We are having our weekly phone call/relationship check in (at her insistence). She asks what have I done to repair the unspecified damage from my still unnamed offense. I mention that I have been reading the workbook, continuing my search for helpful information RE: repairing trust. Also that I had mailed my letter for her.

She hadn’t started writing.

“I can’t think of anything to be grateful or thankful about.”

Five years. Five. And I had somehow never managed to do anything for which she felt thankful. I still have trouble with this idea:

The only actions I had ever taken that mattered to her were the bad ones.

Actions that meant nothing to her:

Holding her until the tears caused by others slow. Affirming that the qualities I admired in her were always present. Cooking her meals, hundreds of them. Cleaning her home when I arrive and before I depart. Being her driver. Small random gifts as tokens of affection. Finding ways to make her home more comfortable and functional. Getting her home when she was stranded in the snow; walking to get groceries so we wouldn’t have to later. Showing her places she might not have found alone.

Encouraging her to go get her dream job even if it means I won’t see her as often. Driving her possessions 800 miles to her new home for her dream job.

Putting her needs and wants in front of mine more often.

Telling her that I wanted to spend my life with her. That being with her had made me feel foolish for ever looking elsewhere.

I still wonder if she really meant it when she said “thank you” (in the moment) or whether it was just a conditioned societal reflex.

Like a fool, I still tried to stay, even though I wasn’t happy there any longer. I needed to prove to myself, if not her, that I was not the one giving up.

Saturday after Valentine’s, 2023.

I called for the relationship check in, just after I arrived home from work.

She was going. She still never articulated what the real issue had been in her eyes.

She had the exceptionally poor taste to suggest that someday we might meet as friends.

If you say I cannot be trusted, then you make friendship impossible. Friendships are based upon trust.

And if you tell me that you no action I performed during our time together was something you valued, you would not value me as a friend.

And if you are suggesting that friendship might still be possible in your eyes, then whatever I might have done doesn’t seem to have been as severe as your response. If it was a deal breaker, why attempt counseling or any form of reconciliation? Why wait until at least a year later to bring up this issue?

I am not perfect. We both did some nasty and petty things to each other. I admit it. Sometimes she would also admit it. But we could talk and hug it out.

I never cheated on her. Always let her take lead on sex/not decisions (I’m 20 years older male). Conditioned myself to not raise voice during disagreements. Non-violent. Respectful of boundaries, once articulated in a no-nonsense manner.

From what she had told me of her past, I had been the best boyfriend/relationship she had ever had. Hooray for me, but sad too because this was my first grown up relationship where futures were a real possibility.

Was so glad to be with her until it started falling apart. She was the bright future I thought I wanted.

Before we acknowledged that we were in love, I had mentioned some of my heartbreaks to her.

The song she would play to let me know I was misspending my emotions is today’s song of the day. I dedicate this one to me, with my former love in heart and mind:

“Better Than That” - Marina and the Diamonds.

[187days]

Day One Hundred Thirteen

I had a lot of meetings today. Only one of them- the usual Thursday morning PLC meeting- was expected.

That one wasn't a particularly eventful meeting either; I just had a handful of things to go over with the department, and some of the guys had questions about course selection and the program of studies, and then we should have gone to do our curriculum work, but we spent an additional ten minutes or so joking about which one of us should apply to be the next superintendent (the current one is retiring at the end of this year), and what our leadership would mean for the district. While that was going on, The Principal asked to see me to follow-up on a conversation we'd had about leveling and differentiation, so we agreed to meet at 8:15.

When did I actually get to the meeting? 8:19.

I got sucked into answering emails and lost track of the time, then bolted out of my classroom when I realized it. Luckily, The Principal wasn't bothered; he and Dean 1 were still wrapping up a separate discussion anyhow. Once they were done, I stepped into the office, and we had a really productive meeting about our original topic as well as some other things involving my department. As we were wrapping up, he asked how I'm doing and how my teaching year's been going. I told him I'm fine- always am- but I appreciated the check-in.

When I returned to my classroom, I had a message from Mr. N asking if we could meet to discuss some future English and social studies interdisciplinary work, but by that time the block was almost over, so we ended up having a lunch meeting instead. We're going to apply for money to do summer work, but we also want to get the ball rolling during upcoming teacher workshop days, if possible. It's kind of fun that we've gone from being mentor and mentee to both being department heads, and getting to make these kinds of plans together.

And in between all these meetings, I taught my classes!

In APGOV, students smashed a vocab quiz, then some MCQ practice, and we wrapped up my multi-day lesson on the presidency and vice presidency by discussing relevant constitutional amendments (12th, 20th, 22nd, 25th). What's next? All about the bureaucracy; I teased this by asking them to hypothetically order a pizza (they told me all the toppings they wanted) and then guess how many federal agencies were involved in regulating that pizza (something like a dozen). That was amusing.

In Global Studies, students continued reading their books, and then I had them get into groups to share what they're reading, what interesting plot points they've gotten to so far, and what they learned from the background research they did last class. After that, we had a whole class discussion; I asked them to tell. me what their classmates had shared with them, what they'd shared themselves, or both. That went WAY better than I thought it was going to go. Like, I figured it would be decent, but it was actually really cool and some students who don't typically participate in class discussions put their hands up for this one. Hooray for that!

After school, I proctored the citizenship test for any seniors still needing to pass it. Every social studies teacher gives the test monthly during the school day, but it's good to give other opportunities, too, because some students are taking their social studies courses online, or they're not in one of our courses till next quarter, or they've failed previous attempts. It took longer than I'd thought it would because one of the test-takers was a former student, and we got to talking as I graded her test, so I missed track practice. I'd told The Head Coach that was a possibility, though.

The team will be at New England's on Saturday. One last meet for this indoor season!

[tobydontknowsh-t]

"No one wants to work." And to that I say... Duh?? No one in the history of humanity has ever wanted to work. We just do it because that's how you get your vegetables. Cause when farming was invented, I feel like that was the moment that the modern version of the emotion of stress was evolved into our brains, because when you're farming you're like "fuck winter's in 40 days and I haven't got a single potato, animals keep stealing my grain, my family's starving because the stupid apples won't grow any faster, shit I shouldn't have built it so close to the river my shit's gonna get flooded..." No one actually wants to go through all that stress. But then, after all your hard work, EVENTUALLY, you get your vegetables and you survive the winter. Hooray!

The best part of farming is that as soon as you're done, you can pull it out of the ground immediately, but now we've got an extra layer of stress where you're not farming vegetables, you're farming in order to get imaginary paper you gotta use to get your vegetables. So if I'm farming a hundred potatoes a day only to get a piece of imaginary paper and not a single potato, why can't I just go back to farming my own vegetables by myself without the extra layer of stress? Anyone can do that.

So if I was alive ten thousand years ago and worked on a farm all day to get my potatoes, and some genius came into town and proposed the concept of imaginary paper when I can already get my potatoes for free and I've been doing that my whole life, I wouldn't want to work either. Humans want to work for vegetables, not imaginary paper.

Dude I've got stand-up comedian in the bag with this one

[giorno-plays-piano]

Money, Money, Money Part 1

Pairing: mob!Bucky Barnes x Reader, slight Peter Parker x Reader

Warnings: lots of swearing, silly drunk mobs, mentions of alcoholism, parody, Peter is adult, is this a crack fic??

Words: 2578.

Summary: When Steve finds out somebody has stolen their money, Bucky realizes he has to take his ass off the leather couch in his office, finally.

P.S. This is my first attempt to write humor and I’m sorry in advance for everything I’ve written here 😅

_________________

“BITCH, DID I STUTTER WHEN I SAID TO KEEP THAT SAFE CLOSED AT ALL TIMES?”

Allyson massaged her temples softly and let out a groan: if Mr. Rogers continued to yell like that, he would definitely choke soon. This morning he had been pretending to be the death, vengeance and fury, ready to kick the ass of her immediate superior, James Barnes, who acted like he was deaf, unable to pull himself from the couch where he slept after getting drunk as a fish last night. Oh, poor Bucky. Apparently, he fucked things up again if Mr. Rogers stormed into his office like he was getting chased by a 200-pound dog.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, you son of a...” glancing at a pouting man-child with a three-day beard, Steve covered his face with his palm and let out an exasperated sigh, “... respectable woman who would die of shame if she saw you now!”

“Come on, Stevie,” the man yawned, finally moving his huge, muscular body up to sit instead of just laying on the couch since he felt a little guilty Steve was getting all riled up while he just chilled, “why so serious? Yeah, somebody took a bit of cash from the safe, it’s not a big deal.”

Allyson heard everything as if they were speaking right in front of her - Bucky was a real Mr. Cheapo who didn’t want to rent an office with decent walls - and quickly closed her ears, wishing she had taken her earplugs today. Her boss just made a grave mistake, and now both of them were going to pay for it with their eardrums.

“NOT A BIG DEAL? NOT A BIG DEAL, YOU MASSIVE BAG OF DOUCHE?! DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH MONEY WAS THERE, HUH?! DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT THOSE MONEY WERE FOR?!”

Seriously, she considered getting a new job, but these free daily standup shows were both tiring and so fucking funny she was afraid she might wet her seat.

“Oh my fucking God, Bucky, I swear I’ll kill you, I’ll... no, I have a better idea!” Steve gave his best friend a dirty look. “I’ll call your uncle. Yeah, you know which one. He’ll be sooo happy to take you drunk ass to jail and then give your mama a call. I bet she has a cure for both your attitude and alcoholism.”

“You wouldn’t do that!”

Suddenly realizing the danger he was in, Bucky quickly got up, almost falling to the floor but holding on the leather chair in the very last second. When Steve talked about calling his uncle, a chief of police of the neighboring town where his whole family lived, it meant things were going bad. Real bad.

“Bucky, it was the part we were going to invest into Pierce’s casino. I have to take it to him tomorrow morning. TOMORROW FUCKING MORNING, DO YOU HEAR ME, YOU STINKING DRUNK?”

“I’m drunk but not deaf, Steve!”

“Oh my God, I’m driving you to a rehab, go gather your stuff right now!”

Allyson sighed, getting up and proceeding to choose the most beautiful cup to fill it with fresh coffee: when their conflicts escalated to threats, it meant her boss would soon start to sweet-talk, apologizing to his best friend and promising to sober up and get things right. Every time she felt like Mr. Rogers would really do something to Bucky, the guy used his natural charisma and charm and got away with anything by just reminding Steve how he fought for his best friend in the dark alleys when Rogers was a sick, skinny kid. It worked every damn time.

There they were again, talking about same things with Bucky swearing on his mother’s life that he will find the money and bring it back to Steve. Usually it meant the threats were coming to an end, and soon Mr. Rogers would open the door and come out red as a lobster, breathing heavily as if he just ran a marathon. There he would see her with a cup of nice coffee with cream and two spoons of sugar just like he preferred, gladly accepting it and saying nobody understand him but her. Then Allyson would smile compassionately, listen to his small talk before he went out the office, and wait until her grumpy boss would fall out the room, reeking alcohol, and ask her what the fuck had happened yesterday.

After that in a couple of minutes things would finally settle down, and Allyson would have a chance to give a call to her best friend.

_______________________________

Your day couldn’t start better: you had finally received your Amazon order - hooray to the stupid makeup tools you would use, like, once a year - and even watched your favorite Netflix series with a cup of a fragrant coffee with marshmallows because it was Sunday and you were finally free from both work and cleaning the apartment. It felt so nice to just do absolutely nothing, laying on your couch with a piece of pizza in your hand. Seriously, even a workaholic like you had to do it more often.

Your lazy morning was interrupted by Peter, a sweet college student who was getting into troubles more often than a drunk in a local bar: you seriously considered calling him Harry Potter after you found him half-naked with a scratch on his forehead standing in the corridor of your building and holding a broom. To protect himself from bullies, he said, by the look on his face you could tell it was as good as a magic wand against 6"4 ft tall guys, seriously.

Since he rented an apartment with other unlucky nerds who had zero skills how to survive in this cruel world, you ended up nearly baby-sitting Peter, patching him up after he was getting in a fight and lending him some money time after time when he struggled to pay rent or buy food. His parents were elderly people with income below average, but they still did whatever they could to give him an education, so you decided to give the guy a hand.

Now that baby was standing in front of you, lit up like a Christmas tree, with a bouquet of wonderful pink roses, big box of hand-crafted chocolates and a whole bag of what looked like some very fine food, even a bottle of champagne clinking inside.

"Good morning, Fairy Godmother! I came to bring back what I owe you!" His smile was a mile wide when he looked at your face, happy to the point he couldn't stand still, dancing like those Duracell rabbits in the tv ad.

"You're up early, Cinderella."

You yawned, laughing when you saw the guy pouting at the nickname you gave him - tf he expected for calling you Fairy Godmother?

"Don't stand there, come in."

When he actually handed you the flowers and chocolates, giving you a quick peck on the cheek shyly, you froze, finally realizing he brought all this for you. Wait, what? Where the heck did he get so much money to buy that expensive stuff? You thought he was helping his other neighbor who was planning to finally propose to his girlfriend. Perplexed to the point you nearly missed that peck, you blinked at tomato red Peter.

"Please don't tell me you robbed your 90-year-old paralytic professor."

"Why don't you ask if I robbed a bank?" He pouted again, putting the bag on the floor and getting a hundred dollar banknote out of his old leather wallet. "I actually came to thank you for everything you've done for me. And I didn't rob anyone! I got a real job!"

"Real job?" You eyed him curiously. "But don't you already have a job in delivery?"

"Pfft, you can't call it a job. It was getting one nasty smelling pizza from one place to the other while looking miserable."

You barely held your laugh, leaving the bouquet and chocolates on the side table and rubbing guy's back. Poor Peter, nobody was giving him a hand - while you couldn't question people's decision since the guy wasn't the most reliable one, it was still a shame he wasn't treated decently as if all of them weren't young and careless once.

Wait, but who on Earth gave him such a well-paid job all of a sudden? He must have spent hundreds of dollars on the bouquet, chocolates, food and champagne, not even counting those 100 dollars he owed.

Oh God.

"Please don't tell me you're working for some shady business." You looked at him in horror, your hand flying to your mouth. "Peter, is it Tony's band?!"

"Jesus woman, why would I work for some stupid mob." The guy rolled his eyes, and you sighed in relief, not knowing what to except from this trouble on two skinny legs. “I’m telling you, it’s nothing bad! I just have to keep it a secret before I get a contract. Once I figure it out, I’ll explain everything, I swear!”

“Alright, alright, don’t stress over it, I’m not your Ma.” Smirking, you went to take a square glass vase you hadn’t use in ages, filling it with water to drop the bouquet inside. “Let’s celebrate it, then! Woah, careful there, give me that bottle until you drop it on my clean floor, I’ve been scrubbing it for hours yesterday!”

_______________________

Bucky still felt like Steve was making too much of a big deal out of it: obviously, it was Tony who went to him at night when Bucky was already drunk like a monkey, celebrating the birth of Clint’s daughter. Nobody else had the courage to steal from him, Steve’s right hand, an ex-soldier who had a reputation of a man killing with the first punch. Not that Bucky ever killed anybody, actually being a ex-trumpet in an army band...

Anyway, the man was heading over to Stark’s Tower, a motel where he and all his guys lived when his wife Pepper was out of town. Pepper had definitely been out of town lately since Tony didn’t call: when she was coming back, Steve and Tony were having a two-day truce with nobody getting in a fight because it was making Mrs. Stark upset, and when she was upset, both Steve and Tony didn’t risk getting out of their holes to face this enraged blonde woman who could make anyone wet themselves with one her glance. If there were anyone killing with just one punch in the town, it got to be Pepper.

As he got closer in his Cadillac that looked like it went through fire and water before being sold to Bucky, Barnes stared at the motel suspiciously: it was strangely quiet with everyone hiding inside, not a man guarding the motel’s entrance. What the hell happened? Tony loved showing off, pretending he ruled over the town, and he would definitely act like a king after stealing Steve’s and his money. It was unbelievable Bucky so nobody welcoming him with a smirk.

Hoping he didn’t use all that money for emptying a liquor store, Bucky parked the car and went to the motel, dying to have some beer: one heartless blonde boss of his emptied his fridge.

“Oh, more drinking partners returning to continue the fun, huh?”

Bucky froze immediately, staring at Pepper who stood in the doorway with a face of an iron maiden. Jesus fucking Christ. She returned to the city way before Tony told him, and it was clear she found him not in the condition she expected to. While Bucky considered whether it was better to run, Tony’s head appeared somewhere behind his wife, and Barnes saw Tony was as drunk as him, if not even more. He could see a huge blue mark from Pepper’s heavy hand on Stark’s cheek.

“Who’s that, honey?” The man asked innocently, earning an enraged glance from his wife, and Bucky thought he should have run. “Hi, Buck! Come on in, it’s ok if you didn’t bring beer even if I asked twice.”

Oh. Something was going on. Of course, Bucky could rat the man out immediately, telling Pepper he wasn’t drinking with Tony yesterday’s night, but he wasn’t such a heartless bastard - by the look on Stark’s face Barnes could see his sweet blonde wifey would beat poor Tony to death with her Dior handbag.

“Sorry, I blacked out for a couple of hours in my car.” He mumbled, bowing his head in respect. “Pepper, such a pleasure to see you.”

“Come on in, alcoholic.” Her gaze was heavy, and Bucky shivered a little, carefully leaving his shoes near the door and scurrying away to the coach where Tony sat, nervously biting his fingers. “Well, do you wanna tell me something, huh? How many hookers have you brought here yesterday?”

Glancing to Tony and back to Pepper, Barnes suddenly realized his frenemy had been so drunk he had no hecking idea whether somebody really brought hookers to the motel - it was a total taboo, but once they got drunk they could barely control themselves. Once they literally woke up to a Santa Claus singing Jingle Bells in the tub in the middle of June because Tony missed Christmas.

Of course, Stark would never slip up the night before Pepper was coming back to town, but, apparently, she didn’t stay with her mom for as long as she planned, and Tony was royally fucked.

“I’ve asked you a question.”

And now Bucky was, too, if he didn’t think of something quick. Of course, he could tell her the truth, but it meant losing Tony completely, and Barnes didn’t want that. A real mafioso should have at least one strong enemy, right?

“I’m sorry, Pepper, but I don’t think there were any hookers here last night.” He said, carefully choosing words. “You see, first, Tony never allows us to. Second, we’re good Christians. We would never invite some hookers when we celebrated the birth of Clint’s daughter!”

As he got silent, enjoying the effect his words were having on Pepper, Bucky looked at the man sitting to his right, watching Tony’s eyes watering: it was definitely God himself who sent Barnes his way that morning, saving his from near death. Nothing would work better than this excuse. Clint and all Bucky’s guys were so drunk to the point they barely remembered what had happened, and it would be easy to convince them Tony and his gang came to see Barnes for something and ended up staying with all of them.

Besides, there was a nice bonus Bucky could add to make it work even better.

“By the way, Clint named her Natasha. That’s also the name of your mom, right?”

By the look on Tony’s face the man realized he was ready to sing.

“How did he know my mom’s name?” Pepper eyed Steve’s right hand distrustfully, but he could tell she was less irritated.

“Oh, you know, he and his wife couldn’t choose the name, so we started saying whatever names we knew, and Tony mentioned Natasha.”

For a second Bucky thought Stark was going to kiss him through excess of joy.

When he finally left the motel, getting his pack of beer given him by lovely Pepper who changed the anger to mercy, Tony ran out of the house after him, giving him a pat on the shoulder and whispering quietly, “I own you one, brother.”

Bucky sighed. Stark didn’t take the money.

______________

Tags: @finleyjayne​​ @alexakeyloveloki​​ @helenaeisenhower​​ @villanellevi​​ @hurricanerin​​ @inlovewiththefictionalcharacters @chris-evans-indian-fanfic​ @navegandoaciegas​ @rosalynshields​ @brattycherubwrites​ @sllooney​ @angrythingstarlight​ @lookiamtrying​ @buckysbunny​ @soleil-dor​ @stargazingfangirl18​ @dillybuggg​ @literate-lamb​ @cosicas-cuquis​ @sarge-barnes-sir​ @buckybarnesplumwhore​ @jaysayey​ @megzdoodle​ @gotnofucks​ @lux-ravenwolf​ @iheartsebandchris​ @ximebebx​ @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123​ @sourpatchspinster​

[therollingstonys]

For Stella: maybe a soft college stevetony fic? Tomorrow is my last final and I need some fluff to celebrate! 💕

Hooray!!! I’ve got my fingers crossed for you that your final goes well!!

This is fluffy and feely, and probably different than you were expecting for soft college stevetony, but I hope you still enjoy it!! Thank you for the prompt!!

Tony groans, long and loud as Steve presses into him strong and true, his muscles shivering and then collapsing into blissful surrender. 

 “Feels good, huh?” 

 Tony opens his mouth to make a snarky remark but all that comes out is another low moan when Steve does it again. 

 Skinny bastard Tony thinks fondly, arching up into Steve’s touch with a weak moan. 

 “Y’know it feels good,” Tony pants, exhaling harshly when Steve pushes down just right. Steve chuckles in response, his deep voice reverberating from behind Tony, rumbling into his skin with how close they’re pressed. 

 “You can thank my ma at Christmas,” Steve teases, “she’s the one who taught me how to do this.”

 Tiny groans as Steve’s thin artist’s fingers dig into his scapula, the sharp pleasure pain of it making him shudder as the knot there unwinds slowly. 

 “I’ll buy her anythin’ she wants,” Tony slurs, dizzy with pleasure. 

 Steve’s strong hands caress his shoulder blades and then push in, thumbs digging into the area around the knobs of his spine and Tony’s vision goes white. 

 He’s drooling into his pillow he notes distantly, slack jawed and groaning like he does when Steve fucks him, and this isn’t far from that—the physics of it aren’t so different, the way Steve moves with purpose, slow and deep pressure applied to his body. 

 “You don’t gotta buy her anything Tones, she loves you for you,” Steve reminds him as his hands slide down the expanse of Tony’s back, rubbing and massaging the muscles as he goes. 

 Tony knows that; he’s been bashfully receiving Sarah Rogers’s affections since freshman year of high school when he and Steve first met and became friends. Now that they’ve been dating for three and a half years, you’d think he’d be used to hearing that she likes him for the person he is, flaws and all, but the lessons learned at his father’s side are hard to shake. 

 He nods loosely and swallows hard, heart in his throat suddenly. “I know,” he whispers, shifting to press his face into his pillow as a few tears leak out. 

 Steve’s bare torso suddenly presses into Tony’s back, warm and thin and strong. Lips press to the sweaty nape of his neck, just behind his ear and he shudders, warring sensations of arousal and a deep yearning for sleep battling inside him. 

 He needs sleep, he knows that—he knew it when he hunkered down in the lab for 37 hours straight because he was desperate to perfect his senior thesis project so that maybe, just maybe his father might look at him with pride. 

 “It’s stupid,” he huffs, sniffling as Steve nuzzles into his damp hair. “He’s not gonna even come,” he murmurs pathetically, heart aching in his chest. 

 Steve hums softly, “You don’t know that,” he murmurs, “I think he’s gonna be there.”

 Tony sighs heavily and shakes his head minutely, “He hasn’t responded to any of my emails about it and Pepper hasn’t confirmed it on his schedule. He’s not coming.”

 Steve presses another kiss to his neck and then another, slowly working his way down, and Tony can’t help the shiver that passes over his skin. 

 “I’m sorry baby,” Steve murmurs, “I wish I could make it better for you.”

 And that? That’s the thing Tony loves the most about Steve—his giant, arrhythmic heart. 

 The number of times he’s sat and listened with a sympathetic ear to Tony’s long winded and emotional speeches about his shitty father are in the hundreds by now, for sure. 

 Steve listens and when asked, offers advice, but mostly, he just nods and smiles sadly and then pulls Tony into his arms for warm and loving kisses. 

 Tears prick at Tony’s eyes and he shifts under Steve, suddenly desperate to see those beautiful blue eyes of his. Steve sits up so Tony can roll over and then laughs brightly when Tony grabs the back of his neck and pulls him down for a searing kiss. 

 “I love you,” he murmurs against Steve’s lips, heart thrumming with delight that he can say that now—that he can declare openly that Steve is someone he loves, someone he adores and wants to spend every day of the rest of his life with. 

 Steve pulls away slightly to press delicate butterfly kisses to Tony’s eyelids, mouth whispering over the arch of his nose and across his cheekbones, over his brow and down his jaw. 

 With each kiss he breathes out, I love you, as though with his words he can heal every broken part of Tony’s heart. 

 Maybe he can. 

 -----------

 Steve watches with pride as Tony presents his final project to the head of the department, the dean of the school, a dozen heads of industry and more than fifty reporters. 

 They murmur excitedly to themselves as Tony explains his arc reactor technology, how it’s self sustaining and can produce enough clean energy in one day to power half of Manhattan. 

 Someone shifts behind him and then there’s a ripple of sound and when he looks up, he finds Howard Stark at his side. 

 He’s looking older, Steve thinks, worn around the edges and weary. 

 He’d feel more sympathy if he hadn’t been the one to see Tony’s bruises as a kid, the one who Tony ran to when his father was in a blind drunk rage, the one he sought out for safety and love. 

 Steve seethes silently for a moment before exhaling slowly and looking away from Howard, turning his attention back to Tony. 

 “He really did it,” Howard murmurs, soft enough that Steve knows it’s not directed at anyone but him. “Didn’t think he had it in him.”

 Steve snorts and looks sideways at the man for a moment, meeting his eyes before shaking his head and looking away. 

 “You disagree?” Howard asks, hands shoving into his trouser pockets, the edge of annoyance in his voice cold and clipped. 

 Steve nods, “Of course. I always knew he could do this—he can do anything he sets his mind to. Except be loved by you, apparently,” he mutters. 

 Howard makes a soft noise and shifts, “You may not believe it Mr. Rogers, but I care for my son. He is my greatest creation.”

 Rage flares in Steve’s belly and he turns to glare up at Howard, hands balled into fists at his sides. “How dare you,” he hisses, “your son is not a creation, he is your child and he deserves more than you just caring about him.” 

 Howard opens his mouth and Steve steps closer, crowding into the man’s space—watching as his eyes go wide with surprise at Steve’s aggressive move. 

 Tony likes to tease that when Steve is angry he’s like a chihuahua—mean and feisty and sharp toothed. 

 “No, shut up,” he snarls, “Tony has sought your approval since he was four years old, desperate for a kind word and a loving embrace, but you couldn’t even spare that much kindness could you?” he snaps. “I doubt you have any goodness in your spirit at all.” 

 Howard’s brows furrow but Steve pushes on, voice low and deadly serious, “He’s going to walk out of here today with twenty different job offers and requests to buy his technology, but you know what’s going to matter to him the most?” he demands. 

 Howard shakes his head tentatively and Steve scoffs, looking him over pointedly. “The fact that you showed up,” he tells him. “So good job, for not letting your son down like you’ve done his entire life.” 

 Howard opens his mouth again and Steve holds up a hand, “Nope I’m still not done,” he says, dark amusement rippling through him at the indignant look on the older man’s face. “When Tony is done, you’re going to tell him he did a good job, tell him you’re proud of him, because even if you don’t care enough to try and actually love him? I do,” he murmurs, “I love him, and you will not ruin this day for him. Do you understand me?” 

 Howard is very still for a moment, dark eyes (Tony’s eyes) searching Steve’s face. 

 And then, he nods. 

 Steve huffs in satisfaction and turns away, focusing his attention back on his beloved. 

 He smiles as Tony talks excitedly about the reactor, nodding and waving his hands as he explains, and when he looks up and sees Howard beside Steve and falters, Steve waves a little and then mouths I love you.

 Tony’s eyes light up and his smile brightens till it outshines even the glow of the reactor, and Steve smiles back, pride and adoration making his heart throb in his chest. 

 The door to the auditorium clangs open and Steve glances over, grinning when he sees his ma hurrying through the crowd towards him in her scrubs. 

 She casts a look at Howard like he’s a beetle under her shoe and then nods politely before turning to Steve for a hug. 

 “Sorry I’m late,” she whispers, “how’s it going?”

 Steve looks back to Tony who has just spotted Sarah if the wide, teary eyed look on his face is any indication, and grins. 

 “It’s going great.”

 ----------- 

 Tony’s hands shake as he reaches for Steve after and he clings to him for just a few more moments than he should, sinking into the embrace as Steve kisses his cheek and then his neck as he whispers praise and rubs his back. 

 Sarah is next, bright blue eyes tired but proud as she hugs him, kisses going to his brow as she too exclaims how proud she is of her boy. 

 He flushes at that, even after all these years. 

 When she steps aside Howard is waiting, a contemplative look on his face as he studies Tony silently. 

 He can feel his shoulders stiffening up and his stomach swoops unpleasantly, body readying itself for yet another rejection. 

 Slowly, Howard extends his hand for Tony to shake, “Good job Anthony,” he murmurs, eyes narrowing when Tony just stares at him in shock. Swallowing hard, Tony nods and takes the hand, mouth dry and tongue heavy. 

 “I’m proud of the work you’ve done,” Howard says, I look forward to seeing what else you can do when you join me at Stark Industries.”

 Shock ripples through Tony and he nods numbly, mumbling out yes sir before Howard nods sharply and turns toward the press, a broad showman’s grin on his face. 

 He’s rooted to the spot, hands numb and chest frozen, till suddenly he’s wrapped in a tight embrace, and his body registers the Steveness of it. 

 His hands clutch at the blue button down shirt Steve’s wearing and he buries his face in Steve’s neck, chest shuddering with a repressed sob. Steve holds him tightly, rubbing his back in large soothing motions till Tony stops shaking and can stand on his own.

 Steve grins at him and cups his cheek, “C’mon super star, more people want to talk to you and then ma and I are taking you to dinner.”

 Tony sniffles and nods, lips quivering as he grins, heart aching happily. 

 He takes Steve’s hand in his and casts his father one last look, wishing that he believed in his declaration of pride but knowing it’s likely nothing more than empty platitudes. 

 Maybe it’s the best Howard will ever be able to do. 

 He doesn’t care anymore, not when he’s got his Brooklyn boy at his side and his ma at his back. 

 He glances at Steve as a group of CEO’s descend on him, eager to try and win him to their companies and loses himself in those gorgeous blue eyes for a moment. 

 Steve grins at him and squeezes his hand, lifting a brow at Tony’s prolonged silent stare. He blushes a little and then turns his attention back to the men and women surrounding him, politely shaking hands and taking business cards as Steve stands like a sentry at his side. 

 He toys with the ring in his pocket as they chatter at him, nodding along and smiling, thinking about how he can’t wait to see Steve’s face when he asks him to marry him. 

 Over the shoulder of one man he sees his father stare at him before he slips out of the room, and Tony lets all his disappointment and lifelong yearning for approval go with him, the burden gone from his shoulders. 

 He glances back at Steve and smiles. 

 He’s got a whole future ahead of him he can’t wait to live. 

[dontasktheradiodemon]

Musical Tryouts (1/31/2021)

Please pretend I posted this chat log a month and a half ago when it actually happened, sob.

Valera @autokrates is leaving an audition for Hell’s first production of Hamilton, and runs into Alastor, waiting for his turn to audition. They hang out and chat until it’s his turn—which marks the first time in forever they’ve had a full conversation that wasn’t Incredibly Awkward the whole way through. Hooray for progress.

Chronologically, this chat log happened between this (note: art of extremely hilarious outfit) and this (note: art of another hilarious outfit)

Alastor

Alastor hasn’t auditioned for a show since the seventies, and hasn’t auditioned and *cared* about it in almost a century. He’d like to think he doesn’t look nervous, but he knows he’s reread his typewritten lyrics about a hundred times and every couple of minutes he catches his leg bouncing again. That’s fine, he’s in disguise, he isn’t supposed to look like himself anyway. He can look a little nervous.

When he realizes he’s more staring a hole through his pages than actually reading them, he forces himself to lift his head, slouches back in his cheap metal chair, and looks around the makeshift backstage waiting room. Maybe he can figure out if anyone else is trying for his parts, drag them into the back alley, and mangle them. It would defeat the purpose of showing up in disguise, but it would burn some nervous energy, and anyway he’s already seen one would-be Angelica pin another down and slit her throat. His gaze scans over the other hopeful actors.

Valera

From the stage comes the muffled sound of someone singing, as expected. But the singing gets louder as the voice approaches the door, and it certainly sounds like Not A Musical Number. It sounds a lot more like someone who needed to be accompanied by someone torturing a piano with a series of small hammers. Was that a Will Wood number? Why yes, yes it was!

Through the curtains and round the corner comes the fish supreme, bedecked in enough frills and frippery to lose an orphan in with their 18th century french fashion, belting out lines from I/Me/Myself as they saunter towards the exit with barely a glance for the other hopefuls waiting for their call. Barely a glance at all, until their eyes land on Alastor. Then their jaunty tune is cut off with an uncanny impression of a record scratch crossed with a chicken being strangled, head whipping around for a double take as they freeze mid stride. Holy fuck what was he WEARING???

Alastor

Alastor’s ears threatened to perk up beneath his temporarily shapeshifted hair at the sound of a very familiar and very beloved song from another performer—he’d almost considered performing that one himself, God was he lucky he’d decided to go with “Modern Major General��—and he turned to see who it was with the spectacular taste in music—

“Valera?!” What the hell was Valera doing at a musical audition in Hell?

Valera

It WAS Alastor! They KNEW it! They gasp, pointing at him as their eyes boggle. "Al--" And just as quickly, a hand is clapped over their own mouth, teeth clicking as they clamp their mouth shut. Okay, try that again, *without* ruining his disguise.

They stride over to where he's sitting, leaning in slightly before hissing. "What are you WEARING?"

Alastor

Alastor plays the sound of something crashing over when Valera starts to say his name—the other waiting performers look around to see which props just toppled over—and hops out of his seat to meet Valera in the middle when they approach him. “Do *not* expose me,” he hisses, flinging an arm around Valera’s shoulders. “Nobody here knows I’m the Radio Demon and if this is going to work, nobody *can* know.”

Then he looks down at his own outfit. “A disguise.” Obviously. “I asked my listeners, ‘What’s the last thing you’d ever expect me to wear?’”

Valera

Oh, great, he's touching them AND he's already mad at them for something they'd already avoided. This seemed like par for the course, might as well get through this as painlessly as possible. Valera's face tightens into a stiff little smile, stomach already twisting into knots. "I've got no plans of exposing you, it would be a shame to ruin the work you put into your... outfit."

A slow exhale from the nose, and they force their shoulders to relax. Can't have the other actors see the two of them at odds, they're clearly just a couple of friends running into each other! A funny coincidence! Their voice raises back to a normal speaking tone, all sunshine and cheer as they give Alastor a pat on the back that falls short of actually touching him. "I take it you're here to audition for a part, then?"

Alastor

Alastor wheezes a near-silent laugh. “Isn’t it hideous?” he whispers. “You should see what the full leggings look like, they’re horrible.”

He lets go and steps back. “I am! I was seized by a wild burst of inspiration, and auditions happened before that inspiration ran out. I take it you... *already* auditioned.” Which raises a whole slew of questions, but Alastor starts with the most important one: “Which part?”

Valera

Valera sends up a silent prayer of thanks to any God listening, hands folding behind their back as they admire Alastor's grotesque attire. "Unfortunately, I kind of love it. It's vile, but with a few tweaks it could be a genuinely good outfit."

They clear their throat at his latter question, rolling back on the heels of their new shoes. "Washington. I didn't come to Hell today expecting to audition for anything, I was just here buying shoes. But I heard music, saw the theater, decided to pop in and see what was going on. And hey, why not try out? Didn't expect to run into you of all people."

Alastor

A little tension drains out of his shoulders at the answer. He glances down to idly check out Valera’s new shoes. “Oh, good! I don’t have to duel you for a part.” He almost instinctively starts playing a snip from “Ten Duel Commandments” to underline the comment, but catches himself. He is, after all, trying not to blow his cover—he’s even consciously suppressing the radio distortion to his voice, he nearly sounds like a normal person. “The feeling’s *entirely* mutual. You’re about the last person I’d expect to try out for a show around here, so far from home!”

And he’s not sure how he feels about it yet. He’s been trying to avoid talking to Valera—can’t get in trouble after interacting with them if they *don’t* interact, can he?—and now here he is doing the opposite of that... but they haven’t started another stupid argument. Yet. “What are you doing if you actually get the part? You’re committing to being in Pentagram City on a near daily basis for—goodness, months at least!”

Valera

They don't know how they feel about seeing him here either. It went from being a fun little spur of the moment tryout before icecream into an UNEXPECTED INTERACTION with A PERSON THEY DON'T KNOW WELL. But no, they have to tamp down on the urge to make their excuses and leave, things would never improve between them if Valera did nothing but avoid him after all.

"IF I get the part! I haven't been in a production in years, I'm rusty compared to plenty of the actors here today, I'm sure." A hand waves, lazy and dismissive. "But if I do pull it off, I've been planning on spending more time in Hell anyway. This is just a convenient excuse."

Alastor

“Hah, I haven’t tried out for a show since—well, since before you were born.” And then, he’d just been doing it as a lark, too—something to attempt to keep his mind occupied. He hadn’t actually *wanted* to be in a production this badly since he lived in New York, before he gave up on making it on Broadway and went into radio. “But how many of *them* can launch into a full musical number at the drop of a hat!”

Valera

Right, it was easy to forget that Alastor was old enough to be their dad. Or Grandpa. Probably? They'd done the math at some point..

"Hatched." They correct on reflex, reaching up to fuss with the feather on their hat. "Who are you trying for? Lafayette? I could see you as a Lafayette." They're saying it because of the French, but they will NOT say that out loud.

Alastor

Great-grandpa, easily. Maybe even great-great grandpa if a few generations got early starts.

His face brightens. “Let’s hope the casting director thinks so, too! Yes, Lafayette and Jefferson—the same actor played them both in the mortal realm, why shouldn’t one person play both down here, too?”

Valera

Great-grandpa Alastor, the spryest old man in the nursing home. Eating the interns when he gets bored... That sounds like a typical older Veci actually.

They hum, looking Alastor up and down in his getup. "You'll get the part, or I'll eat this silly chapeu. I've seen the competition you're up against. They're good, don't get me wrong, but..." A vague gesture at him. "Nobody could compete!"

Alastor

"You flatter me!" All the same, he's beaming widely. "But I was hoping that would be the case, what with when they scheduled auditions. January's a bad time for, well, *most* people's schedules. I'm afraid I missed all but the tail end of your performance—spectacular choice of song, though!"

Valera

"Why thank you! Will Wood doesn't fit the show's theme in the slightest, but it certainly shows my singing chops! Though if I'd planned for this audition I might have gone with an outfit a bit less.. *French*." They grin, shimmying their enormous sleeves. Unrepentant in the slightest. "Might. I could see Washington's doughy self in this getup."

Alastor

Alastor examines Valera’s getup. Was that French? It just looked old-fashioned to him. “Well, hopefully they’re not going to judge based on fashion!” He glances pointedly down at his own outfit.

Valera

Another glance at his outfit, and they give a thumbs up. "You've got a bowtie on, you'll be fine."

Oh. Would it be a supportive friend thing to do to sit and wait for his call with him? Or would that be somehow rude? They couldn't just ask, if it *was* rude he'd probably be offended by the notion, but if it wasn't... Something bad. Probably? Maybe they're being unfair. A quick clearing of the throat, and they gesture towards the door. "Do you want to sit down? I've got time to kill before. Uh... *Mon Cerf Rouge* arrives with my ice cream."

Alastor

*Oh right*, he’s wearing *Valera’s husband’s* bow tie. His hand flies up to cover it as if that will prevent it from being identified, and he quickly forces his hand back down. “Well! I wasn’t going to show up to an audition underdressed, was I?” He laughs thinly. Don’t act suspicious it’s fine.

Is Valera hanging out with another Alastor? He wonders which one. How is it that every version of himself manages to get along with them but him? It wouldn’t be so galling if *none* of them could get along with Valera, but if it’s something he uniquely is doing wrong—no, don’t worry about that right now.

His first inclination is to turn down the offer, they’ve had a cordial conversation so far and he can’t mess it up if it ends right here; but there’s a chance they’re about to both end up in the same show, isn’t there? Polite avoidance might not be an option for long. Better get to work on getting along. “Sure! It’s a bit yet until my turn.”

Valera

What a reaction! They will politely pretend they didn't see him have a miniature panic over being seen wearing Pentious' bowtie. Far too busy inspecting their gloves, for some reason. How convenient.

Well, now they've done it, they're stuck here. Though it's surprising he accepted the offer, maybe it'll be okay? If he really wanted to avoid them he could have turned the offer down. They're probably overthinking it. A quick nod, and then they perch on the edge of a seat so their fuckoff huge tail can actually fit amidst the mounds of ruffles. On the plus side, nobody but Alastor was going to be taking the seats next to them anytime soon, unless they wanted to fight the tide of frills.

Time to.. Get along? Polite chit chat? "Is this the first production of Hamilton in Hell? It's a fairly new musical, and I know there's a bit of a delay getting things down here."

Alastor

“The very first! In fact, this production company is the one that got the first recording smuggled down from the living realm! Online there’s a few amateur recordings of recent arrivals singing the songs they remember, but so far that’s the only presence Hamilton has had in Hell. Anyone who gets in this show has an opportunity to *define* their roles in the eyes of the public.” Oh, he’s getting a little starry-eyed just thinking of it. “I suppose you’ve probably seen the original production in the mortal realm?”

Valera

"I did, though that was long before I met you or I'd have invited you along!" They're going to take the hat off, it's very silly and the feather keeps floating around in the corner of their vision. Plus, now they have something to hold in their hands so they can't start doing anything weird with them. Win win!

Alastor seems genuinely excited about this production, he'd gone through all the effort to get an outfit, come for tryouts.. And they just sauntered in on a whim. Thank the gods they weren't trying out for the same part, Valera would have had to bow out immediately. "I wonder if any of the actual founding fathers have survived long enough down here to see the show. Wouldn't *that* be something?"

Alastor

“Wouldn’t it just! I can’t think of *anything* I’d enjoy more than prancing around on stage making Jefferson look like an absolute damn fool while the real deal seethes in a front row seat!” He laughs. It’s not a terribly friendly laugh. “But I don’t know if any are down here. I don’t pay close attention to that sort of thing—and anyway, most *important* people who end up damned either find themselves on the receiving end of a deluge of assassination attempts or else change their identities fairly fast. A founding father could show up and audition to play as himself and we might not know.” A thoughtful pause. “Although I doubt any of them would get the part.”

Valera

"I'd assume they wound up here, considering the whole owning slaves and starting wars thing. Good PR post mortem doesn't absolve you of shitty behaviors in life, unfortunately." Yes. Very unfortunate. That's why they're grinning so toothily. "Imagine if we got the actual King George on the roster? Though I'd rather see Pentious try for the part, personally." There's no way George was still around, he'd gone batty enough in life that he'd probably wandered onto the nearest angelic spear first thing. But they could dream!

Alastor

“One would hope! But no one’s ever sent me the rule book on what does and doesn’t get you access upstairs, who knows for sure? I can tell you what I think *should* get you down here, but I can’t tell you with complete certainty whether or not it does.”

Oh, his eyes light up at that. “Just imagine him in the full raiment of a king! But no. Getting up on stage to have hundreds of people laugh at him for dressing and acting like royalty? He’d hate it.”

Valera

"He'd look glorious in a crown! But you're right, he'd never want a comic relief role, even if he WOULD get to sing about sending battalions after people." Alas and alack, King George ala Pentious would have to live in their dreams. But they smirk, leaning a fraction closer to Alastor to whisper. "But we might be able to get him to sing it privately, at least, and wouldn't that be lovely?"

Quickly pulling back, they cross one leg over the other and put on that cheerful grin again. "What do you think *should* qualify to send people to Hell, my fine fellow? It's a broad question, so we can skip it if you'd rather not open that can of worms."

Alastor

Wouldn’t it be lovely, indeed. He smiles uncomfortably and glances away.

“Oh, skip it.” He waves a hand vaguely. “I find the topic as sanctimonious as it is futile. It may not be for *you*, perhaps—for you, it’s little more than an interesting thought experiment on alien morality—but for us? What’s the good of debating why people should be damned when we’re *already* damned? It’s not going to help us get out of Hell. God isn’t going to take our suggestions into consideration. All the topic does is make one bitter that the powers that be don’t appear to be judging people to one’s personal moral standards—or else it inspires one to assume that God *is* operating in line with one’s personal understanding of justice, and try to pigeonhole everyone one meets into the crimes one believes are worthy of damnation. I’ve run into countless people down here who *don’t know why* they’re damned—and yet they *are* damned, which means they’ve done something that *is* damnable even if they themselves don’t believe it. If people can’t understand their own sins, how can they be trusted to judge anyone else’s?”

Valera

They lean back as Alastor skips one can of worms for another, watching him as he broke down his reasoning. It was interesting, insightful, even if they didn't have much to say to him in response. He was right, after all. For them it was an alien concept, a novelty to roll around and discard when they were bored, just like so many other human notions. But not everyone was so lucky. A nod of agreement, and they flick their tail.

"You're right. My apologies, Alastor, it's easy to forget how... fortunate I am, to be in the position I'm in." A side eye at the other actors, who PROBABLY couldn't hear the conversation, but even so. "Something lighter, then. Have you had a chance to work on restoring your deathday gift yet? You did a fine job with Alexander, he's as glossy as the day you *finished* him."

Alastor

“Oh, that’s just to be expected. How many people have a chance to measure their lives up against the dead and damned, anyway? We’re not given opportunities to interact with anyone but our fellow prisoners and our jailers, and that’s by design.” He’s occasionally side-eyeing the other actors himself, but none seem to be paying attention.

“Oh—yes! Cleaned out the guts and got off the worst of the grime of age. I need to get a few cleaning supplies to finish the job, but soon the both of them will be spick and span!” Look at him beaming, the proud father. “How *is* Alexander? I wanted to talk to him while visiting your place, but his time seemed to be monopolized by someone else the whole trip!” He really did feel bad about that. He feels like he’s got something a duty to Alexander, but so far he hasn’t been able to meet it.

Valera

This was a MUCH better topic. Radios and mutual friends, much safer. They let their shoulders relax under the jacket, chirping as their fins waggle. "I'm sure they'll be as good as new by the time you're done with them, mon collègue. You'll have to show me how they come out. A beautiful antique is always twice as radiant when restored with care, and those radios were gorgeous."

Ah.. Alexander. Their face twists, a frown tugging at the corners of their mouth. "Alexander is.. alright, I suppose. Nothing terrible has happened, and I've been trying to work with him on his manifestations with generally mixed to positive results." They shrug, sighing through their nose. "I think he misses other humans. Or former humans, I suppose. We get along well, but he'll see something and start talking about.. Ponzi? Or his mother writing to him from the" Airquotes here as they squint "Dust Bowl?" What the fuck is a dust bowl? They don't know, it sounds like something a chinchilla would roll in. "And he loses me completely."

Alastor

“I’ll have Vaggie take pictures some time.”

Alastor’s eyebrows shoot up. “That poor man got tangled up with Ponzi *and* the dust bowl? Goodness, what an unfortunate life he lived! But you’re right, he really needs more humans to talk to, doesn’t he? I’ll—“ A pause, and then he says thoughtfully, “I’ll see whether I can contact him myself. If not, I’ll let you know and we’ll arrange a play date. If it works, though—you’ll probably hear about it from him.”

Valera

Contact Alexander himself? Valera opens their mouth to ask how, then it clicks. Right, radio to radio transmissions. Could Alastor reach radios outside of Hell? Maybe it would be easier if the radio was haunted, a bit closer to the fuzzy boundaries between Heaven, Hell, and Earth. Or, Okkylk in this case. Hm.

"I'll take your word for it, I haven't got the foggiest about what either of those are. What the *devil* is a Ponzi?" They've heard "Ponzi Scheme" said in movies, but maybe it wasn't even the same Ponzi! Maybe Ponzi was a normal human thing. Like a brand, they do love their brands... "But thank you. I think he'd benefit from having more than one very alien being to talk to."

Alastor

“Charles Ponzi! A con artist! He convinced a whole slew of people to give him a mountain of money to invest in what he claimed was some post office money-making scheme and that he’d double their money in a month or two. Instead, he pocketed the money, convinced *another* slew of people to give him money for the same scheme, used that money to pay off the first wave of suckers—and rinse and repeated until he’d scammed thousands and stolen millions! Spent a few years in prison, got out and tried another scheme, got arrested in dear old New Orleans trying to flee the country! You knew you weren’t going to be bored any time he showed up in the papers!” Alastor loves a good con artist story. “The Dust Bowl, I missed myself—just a little bit after my time—but from my understanding it was a big drought in the middle of the States that dried out a bunch of farmland. Lot of farming families starved those years.” Alastor loves a good con artist, but starving people are just sad.

Valera

This Ponzi guy should have gone into politics, hot damn. Valera makes a low whistle, nodding their approval. "That DOES explain why he thought about Ponzi, we were talking about the weird political scams my predecessor left me on the hook for when I snuffed him out. Though I think that Charles there pulled it off with more flair than that bird brain ever could have. What a character! I've got to respect that kind of daring."

Probably best not to comment too much on the dust bowl, that sounds like a downer. But, they did bring it up, and if they're talking about Alexander.. "That does explain it. I believe his family was based in that middle area." A nod, and they immediately jump to something less negative. "Let him prattle on at you about his electronics store, he'd love it. The man talked my fins off for twenty minutes about something called a Perikon Detector a regular asked him to order and I STILL don't understand why he was so exasperated about it."

Alastor

“Oh, did he ever have flair! There’s a story I heard about when news of his scams started hitting the papers—all his investors swarmed his offices to demand their money back, he went around to them one by one offering coffee and donuts and smiles, and charmed them so well they *left* their money with him!” Alastor laughs.

Perikon Detector? Alastor stares off into space a moment, trying to dig the term out of nearly-century-old memories. “... Probably because Perikon Detectors were replaced by vacuum tubes before ninety percent of the nation ever even *heard* of radios. What the hell did someone want a Perikon Detector?”

Valera

They laugh, clapping their hands together. Charles Ponzi, was it? They'd have to look the fellow up later just to see the details of his escapades, maybe forward the information to a certain lawyer they knew. But for now, their potential costar has been oddly silent..

Alastor in a state of blank befuddlement was a rare treat, and one that Valera enjoyed while they could before he seemed to snap back into focus with his scrabbled knowledge in hand. "You'll have to ask him for specifics, but judging by the choice of insults, this person had a habit of asking for obscure, outdated parts rather frequently. Maybe a collector? Upcycler?" They shrug. "I still have no idea what a Perikon Detector IS. It sounds like a little bauble they'd use in a bad sci-fi show."

Alastor

“Well, it detects perikons, obviously!” He pauses. Dead silence. “Right, forgot I gave the laugh track the afternoon off. You at least know what vacuum tubes are, right? They, uh...” Has Alastor ever actually learned what it is, *exactly,* that vacuum tubes do. He knows how to use them. He knows how to tell which one he needs. He’s put them in radios. He’s *made* radios. But his eyes glaze over whenever he tries to learn what exactly it is the electricity *does* in there.

“Well,” he says confidently, “they control electrons, you see. You’re not getting very far in electronics if you can’t control electrons.” There’s a smattering of laughter. “Shut up, you’re all on break. Anyway, you’ve got vacuum tube radios and crystal radios—there’s a crystal in a Perikon Detector, see—and vacuum tube radios actually need some electricity to power them—which means you’ve got enough electricity to also power a speaker. Crystal radios are powered only by the very radio waves they pick up, but you’ve got to squeeze headphones against your face to hear it—so not very useful if you want to use a radio while doing anything but sitting in one spot very quietly with your hands over your ears. A Perikon Detector is just one brand name of crystal detectors that pick up radio waves.”

Valera

Alastor's initial joke is delivered, and Valera rather wished it hadn't been. In fact, they'd like to file a formal complaint with the verbal post office, they seem to have delivered an auditory assault instead of pleasantries. Silence reigns between them, oppressive and all consuming like an unjust monarch, three eyes staring silent judgement at the Radio Demon for his awful, terrible, no good dad joke levels of comedy. Jingle the bells on your little jester hat, old man-- Oh wait, he's talking again.

Valera stops squinting, rolling their eyes with a groan. He's still telling bad jokes. Those are only funny when YOU'RE the one telling them, the bastard. But they're going to completely gloss over his evil sense of humor and focus on the technical talk, and if there's a little upward twitch of their lips it's his imagination. Shut up. Dad jokes aren't funny. "Interesting! I'd never even heard of a crystal radio before, humans upgrade their technology so quickly that it makes the mind reel. One of their.. Your? Finer features."

Alastor

Alastor is goddamn hilarious and a gift to the microphone and the world is better for him and his humor having been in it, if we’re not counting those murders he did. “It *is* one of our more impressive parlor tricks! Although, truth be told, only one we picked up in the last century or so!” A pause. “Last *two* centuries. I keep forgetting the 1820s aren’t a hundred years ago. Anyway, we’ve really picked up the pace lately, relatively speaking! I once heard someone say—I don’t know how he knows, but I’m sure someone looked it up—that for several thousand years, the human *pelvis* evolved faster than the plowshare! And then all of the sudden, boom! Factories! Steel! Trains! Airships! Radio! How did people before the nineteenth century not bore themselves to death, I’ll never know.”

Valera

Valera cocks their head to the side, mind casting back. "From what I recall about sixteen hundreds France from my earliest visits, there was a lot of interpersonal drama and dying from preventable diseases to keep people busy. Much less interesting than the industrial revolution. Though the water was also a lot *cleaner* back then." A dissatisfied scoff. "Late eighteen hundreds London was a foul, foul place. Only went once and I had a cough for a week."

Alastor

"Oh, *that's* right! *Human drama!* Entertainment at its purest! I would have been an insufferable gossip, I'm sure." His smile broadens with satisfaction at figuring out what he would have done before radio.

Valera

"Oh don't sell yourself short, Alastor. I'm sure given the chance, you could be an insufferable gossip now, too!" They flutter their lashes dramatically, fanning themselves with their hat as they titter like a fine court damsel. Okay, enough of that. "They should be calling you soon, no?"

Alastor

“You flatter me! If more people shared gossip with me, I *would* be!”

Oh, right. He’s here for the first audition he’s cared about since dying. He sits up a little straighter, ears almost lifting out of his absurd disguise hair as he strains to listen to the current audition on stage. Sounds like it’s wrapping up. “Probably.” He looks down at his printed lyrics again and, predictably, forgets how to read.

Valera

Valera glances at Alastor's paper, humming as their hands rest on their hat. Was he *nervous*?

"Are you nervous?" Wait they said that out loud didn't they. Well, shit. Better commit. "What did you say you were doing again? The Major General's Song?"

Alastor

He's gonna ignore the hell out of that first question. "Yes, Modern Major General—and I learned a couple of songs from the show, more or less. I don't know what they're going to ask for. I figured at a minimum Modern Major General would show I can sing fast enough for the parts, if they don't want anyone to sing from the show."

Valera

If he'd actually answered the question, Valera would have probably accused him of being an imposter. Alastor wasn't known for admitting to his emotions unless you happened to be a Victorian steampunk snake, and even then. A sigh, and they lean back in their seat as much as their tail allows. "They let me sing Will Wood, so I think your selection should be perfectly sufficient. You even went with another musical theater song!"

Valera

Even then, he only just sort of failed to deny straightforward accusations. Kind of like what he just did. "I'm glad I didn't go with Will Wood," he mutters.

Yep, there's no more singing or talking from the stage, they're definitely wrapping up. Any second now.

Valera

It sounds like Alastor's turn is coming up, and good timing on that. They had no idea how to respond to his mutterings beyond pointing out that no casting director in Hell was likely to have heard of a semi obscure avant-garde jazz musician. Which might not even be accurate, maybe he was popular down here.

Out comes the phone, the ultimate distraction to ignore a potentially awkward silence. Better to end the talk on a positive-ish note, considering they're going to be seeing this garishly dressed man on the daily for possibly months. Sit next to one Alastor, text another, barely suppress snorts when the second gets confused about "phish food" being an ice cream flavor. As a fish does.

Alastor

The most recent actor comes backstage again, and another demon calls, “Next, uh... Lass?”

Alastor hops to his feet. “That’s me! That’s my name.” He turns to Valera. “Stage name. Drag name, usually, but as long as I’ve got the hair and the dress today—Anyway!” He claps a hand on Valera’s shoulder. “Tell me to break a leg!”

Valera

They glance up from their phone at the name call, sliding their eyes back down as Alastor hops up. Off he goes then? Maybe not, he's talking now, they should respond--

They make a very undignified BWAGH at the unexpected touch, hat flying off their lap as their whole body jumps. Then immediately pretends it didn't happen, clearing their throat noisily. What? No, they didn't just jump out of their scales. "Break a leg, Alastor."

Alastor

*Wheeze.* He doesn’t apologize but he *does* quickly take his hand back, which is probably as close as they’re gonna get from him. “Thanks!” He startled the hell out of someone and got a quick laugh out of it, that does something to steady his nerves. He folds up his lyrics, tucks them away god-only-knows-where, and strides out. Showtime!

Valera

Valera watches him go, shaking their head as they stand. Well, that's one radio demon out of their hair. Time to go willingly throw themselves at another one! The hat is plucked off the floor, and off they go. Not too shabby a day, not too shabby at all.

[a-lockman5]

Dirty Little Secret {Devi x Paxton}

A/N: Hooray! So after about 8.5K, I cut this one off. I like the way it ended, and it was fun to imagine a future Daxton. Thank you so much to the person that requested it! I am throwing around the idea of working on a part 2, so if I get at least 5 “upvotes” for a part 2, I will take it on.

Summary: Devi wasn’t interested in dating anymore. She wasn’t hurt or messed up from a previous relationship. She just wanted to meet a guy that made time stand still. It just didn’t happen. That is, until a man from her past walked into her office.

Warnings: Fluff, drinking/alcohol abuse, time-jump (Devi and co. are in their late 20s), forbidden love, taboo, mild burns, sexual themes - nothing explicit

Don’t forget, request/ask is open!

And check out my MASTERLIST

“Debbie, you have a new patient today,” the office manager, Barb called out, thrusting a folder into the air.

“It’s Devi,” she swiped the folder from her, “you know, like that grandson you’re always going on about.”

“Oh, sorry, dear. I keep forgetting.”

“It’s alright, Barb, thanks for grabbing this,” she turned away toward her own desk. I’ve only been working here for two and half years. Why should you have caught on by now?

Devi Vishwakumar didn’t know what she wanted for the future when she graduated nearly nine years ago. She had spent her high school career with two things on her mind: having a love life and getting to Princeton. She’d managed both. After dating Ben Gross for the entirety of their junior year, Devi and he ended things amicably largely because being friendly rivals was much more fun and somehow resulted in less legitimate fighting. Senior year, she enjoyed the company of another classmate named Tyler Herron. He was academically minded, but still a jock in his own right. He played for the soccer and basketball teams, and Devi found she received common invites to parties that previously she thought only came from her friendship with Paxton Hall-Yoshida. Eleanor and Fabiola continued to prove they were the best friends anyone could ask for, but she also learned to love Shira and Zoey. Though they often seemed more superficial than Devi thought to care for, their aspirations were just as real as Devi’s and they had minds made for business and marketing. When time came for graduation, Devi felt more seen and cared for than she ever thought she could, and that’s what she said in her valedictorian speech. She also couldn’t help throwing a jab at Ben for beating him out, but to be fair, he insinuated letting her win in his own speech.

When she arrived at Princeton the following fall, Tyler forged his own path to MIT. Devi had no intention of bringing a boyfriend into college with her and was not at all hurt when Tyler felt the same way. She did wish she’d beat him to the punch, but at least they too split mutually and were able to be friendly on social media. Being single gave Devi the opportunity to focus on what was most important – her future.

Her mother made it very clear to her, she was to pick a college major before arriving for her first semester. Not having a plan is lazy. Are you lazy, khanna? Even when her mother was thousands of miles away, Devi could hear her loud and clear in her head. Though, she found she was right. Devi had to be prepared to make decisions for herself otherwise all the work she’d put in to get to Princeton would be for nothing. She chose Biology and pursued it relentlessly.

By the time she was graduating with her bachelor’s in biology, she’d made plenty of friends during that time who helped her choose to further pursue Physical Therapy. It was funny, she often thought, how she spent so long working to move across the country for her favorite Ivy League school to then end up back in her backyard for graduate school. The University of Southern California had one the best PT programs in the country, and Devi was proud to have studied there. Her final fieldwork was assigned at OSMC, Orthopedics and Sports Medicine Calabasas. After a thrilling experience, and impressing her Clinical Instructor at every turn, she was asked to stay on after graduation. Naturally, Devi accepted.

OSMC was not only the most exclusive orthopedic surgery and rehabilitation practice in Southern California, but it was also where she felt most at home. Outside of having a coworker who passively refused to learn the correct pronunciation of her name, she was in her element every day. Plus, she got to meet some really cool people. Professional athletes, actors, stuntmen, they all came to OSMC for physical rehabilitation. Legally, she wasn’t allowed to tell anyone else that she’d personally worked with Dylan O’Brien, Diego Boneta, and Mookie Betts. She liked to remind herself of those things regularly though. Living in the LA area also allowed Devi’s relationship to improve with her mom, who finally voiced how proud she was of Devi… when she first started working. Now, she was worried that Devi would never settle down.

Devi had begged her mother not to place her in an arranged marriage when she was still studying at Princeton. The conversation actually took place at Kamala and Prashant’s wedding ceremony. It wasn’t that she didn’t think it could work – Kamala and Prashant proved that love could flourish from being set up. Devi wanted something different though. She wanted what Nalini and Mohan had. They met when they were children, and never wanted anyone else. She wanted to meet a man and feel the electricity that could make her forget her own name (like Barb seemed to do every day). Heart softened by the reminder of how Mohan had swept her off her feet, Devi’s mother agreed. That was six years ago. More recently, Nalini reminded her daughter regularly that all of the handsome driven Indian men in her age range had already been swept up, so she was on her own. She also made it very clear that grandchildren were to be in her future.

Did her mother’s constant badgering sour Devi on dating? Maybe a little bit. Did she get guys to buy her, Eleanor, and Fabiola drinks when they out only to ditch the same guys at the first opportunity? Absolutely, but what woman hadn’t done that? It had been a long time since Devi saw a man that made time stand still, and Mehcad Brooks was treated in her therapy gym.

No, Devi was not the romance obsessed teen she once was. Honestly, it’s better this way. Now, I can focus on my career, she thought. She pulled up her schedule on her laptop and noticed she didn’t have an appointment for three hours. “Hey, Barb? What time is that eval coming in?”

“Scheduled in thirty minutes!” She called back.

“Who ya got, D?” Amir, one of the physical therapy assistants, asked. “Someone rich or someone famous?”

“Go ahead and take a look, you’ll probably be seeing them next week,” Devi replied going to grab a mug of coffee.

“Hey, another Olympian. Paxton Hall-Yoshida!”

“Devi, oh my gosh, are you okay?” Hannah’s voice sounded like it was a hundred miles away. Devi didn’t come back to reality until she felt a damp towel being pressed into her arms. “Here, there’s coffee all over your leg. I don’t want you to get burns.”

Hannah was their rehabilitation technician. She helped keep things picked up, sanitized, and would provide physical assistance if they needed another set of hands during a session. At the moment, she was saving Devi from second degree burns, and cleaning up the broken ceramics from the coffee mug she’d just dropped. Hannah was right too; Devi chose the wrong day to wear a skirt and had drenched her right leg in hot coffee.

“Hannah, I’m so sorry! I don’t know what came over me,” Devi told her pressing the towel on her knee and calf with one hand and crouching down to help pick up the pieces of her mug with the other.

“Devi, I love you, but please don’t help. We don’t want you to cut your hand open,” she laughed. Devi was known to be a little clumsy. “I have a pair of scrubs with me if you want to wear them today.”

“You are a lifesaver, Hannah. I don’t care what Amir says about you!” she called over her shoulder, heading into the locker room to change into Hannah’s scrubs.

Okay, Devi, get your shit together. Maybe it’s not even the same guy. Except, of course it was. How many Paxton Hall-Yoshida’s were Olympic Swimmer’s for the US team? One. There was one. One Paxton Hall-Yoshida that Devi had routinely made a fool of herself in front of when she was in high school. Paxton Hall-Yoshida that gave her the best first kiss a girl could dream up. Before she started dating Ben, Paxton was all she thought about. Now, she was supposed to treat him? God, I feel like I’m fifteen again! she thought, kicking the lockers angrily. She had to get a grip. She had exactly twenty-two minutes to handle the situation.

After changing quickly into the burgundy colored scrubs, Devi found herself in her boss’s office. “Makayla, is there any way I can give my eval to one of the other therapists?”

“Why?” She tapped her acrylics on the desk impatiently. Makayla was notorious for being in all the gossip of the clientele in their practice. Devi knew she had to be careful telling her too much. If she knew Devi and Paxton went to high school together, the questions would never stop until Devi ended up with word vomit about both of their personal lives.

“Uh... I just spilled hot coffee on my leg, and I am feeling pretty tense from that still.”

“Alright, Devi, I’m going to level with you. This particular client asked for you specifically. Apparently, he knows one of your previous clients, and they were a satisfied customer. He will not be happy if he works with another therapist. Are we going to have a problem?”

Devi swallowed her argument about conflicts of interest and gave her boss a tight-lipped smile. “No problem. I’m flattered, obviously. Thanks.” She rose from her seat and began to back out of the office. “Let me know if there’s anything else I can do to help,” she gave a small wave and didn’t notice the way her foot caught on the door frame until it was too late.

She screwed her eyes shut, waiting for impact. It’s a reflex to reach your hands out toward the ground when falling in order to protect your head, but instead it often results in one of the most common fractures. Devi knew her bottom and back could take a fall and so she resisted the urge to catch herself, but that didn’t mean she was looking forward to meeting the floor.

Except she didn’t hit the floor. “Woah!” she heard man’s voice shout before she was caught by a strong arm. “Good thing you got my good side.”

When she opened her eyes, there he was. Holding her in mid-air with one arm, Paxton Hall-Yoshida smiled down at Devi like Christmas had come early. He gingerly aided her back to a standing position, and she tried to ignore how he bit his lip and smirked at her. Man, he had not changed a bit, except that somehow, he looked stronger and more handsome than the last time she’d seen him.

“Oh, thank goodness. We didn’t need Danni getting hurt again!” Barb giggled from behind the front desk. Devi opened her mouth to correct the office manager again but didn’t manage to get the words out before Paxton.

“It’s Devi,” he told Barb. “D-e-v-i; it means goddess.”

“Oh!” Barb smiled like it was the first time she’d heard Devi’s name. “Well, thank you, young man. This goddess is your physical therapist today.”

“Lucky me,” he grinned. “Lead the way, Dr. Vishwakumar.”

It was all Devi could do to stop the heat from coloring her cheeks as she led Paxton through the therapy gym to one of the exam rooms in the back. No one interrupted them or disrupted their course. That was an expectation of working in an office with so many VIP clients. Professionalism came first, and Devi kept blasting that in her head. Be professional. Be professional.

Once they reached the exam room, she stopped at the open door and gestured for him to enter ahead of her. She tried to stop herself from checking out his backside, but the high school sophomore in her won the battle. And just like when they were in high school, this boy – nay – this man had an amazing way of filling out clothing that would otherwise be loose fitting. God, he looked good.

When she looked up, she was glad his back was still to her. For the first time, possibly in her entire life, Paxton didn’t catch her in an embarrassing moment. “So, Mr. Hall-Yoshida, why don’t you take a seat and” –

She was cut off by his soft laughter. “Come here, Devi,” he said, pulling her into a hug. “It’s so good to see you.”

She found herself returning his embrace, and it actually helped her relax a little. “It’s good to see you too, Paxton,” she told him when she pulled away a moment later. “How long has it been?”

His eyes squinted over her shoulder as he thought about her question. “Ben Gross’s Christmas party 2022, right? Eight years?”

Somehow, in that moment, it felt like yesterday. “Yeah, that’s right. The one party at Ben’s that didn’t end with me in the deep end of the pool,” she grinned.

His eyes raked over her for a moment, so intense that she chose to turn away and grab his chart to distract herself. Then he laughed again. “At least sometimes it was on purpose.”

“Yes, not all of us are as graceful in the water as the Paxton H.Y.” she smiled up from his paperwork. “Alright, we could catch up for hours, but we have to get your evaluation done. Tell me what’s going on with your shoulder.”

Paxton smirked, but nodded and did not argue with moving on into the session. He explained his sudden onset of pain during a training session. Sharp pain. He noticed more during strokes or overhead activity. It was difficult to sleep on that shoulder, but otherwise, if he wasn’t using it, he didn’t have pain. Everything Paxton told her confirmed what the orthopedist had diagnosed: shoulder impingement syndrome. Just to cover her bases, Devi confirmed positive results for Neer’s and Hawkins’ tests.  He demonstrated mild weakness in the affected shoulder, and pain seemed to onset just at approximately 100 degrees of flexion.

“Okay, looks like you saw Doctor… Matthews? Did he explain this to you?”

“Not really… he said I’m pinching a muscle in my rotator cuff?”

“Kind of, more like a tendon,” Devi said grabbing a model off the counter. “So, you know how this is a ‘ball and socket’ joint so to speak. Normally, you have full range of motion and the ball rotates in the socket without any pain or stiffness,” she explained demonstrating the normal range of shoulder flexion. “Right now, you have some inflammation in the space between the ball and socket, so whenever you raise your arm above shoulder level, there isn’t enough space for the joint to rotate normally. Because of that, you pinch that tendon, it hurts and causes more inflammation, and then the next time you raise your arm, you’ll pinch the tendon, it’ll hurt and cause inflammation, and so on.”

“So… every time I raise my arm… like on every stroke, I make it worse?” he asked, his forehead furrowing.

“Not really, but you’re not making it any better. Every time you raise your arm above shoulder level, you’re basically reinjuring it. Don’t worry though, we can fix it.”

“Dr. Matthews didn’t think I would need surgery.”

“Oh, god no, and I would never do surgery. A – out of my scope of practice, B – can you imagine me with a scalpel and a living, breathing person? Bad idea.”

She smiled when he started laughing. This was Devi’s favorite part of her job. She had many A list clients walk into her office, and there was always a level of fear that they wouldn’t be able to reach 100% again. Sometimes, it was true. Devi liked being able to alleviate that fear and make people as comfortable as possible though. Paxton was no different. He’s just another client, she told herself, and continued in her explanation.

“See the reason it keeps happening is because you’re not giving the inflammation a chance to go down. Between swimming, lifting, and day to day activities, your arm goes over your head a lot. First thing we have to do is, limit that.”

“So, I can’t swim?”

“Not unless you can do it with your left arm by your side,” her head tilted in sympathy. “It’s not forever though. I want you to keep your arm below 90 degrees of flexion – below shoulder level for four weeks and I want you to complete these exercises every day, two to three times per day,” she pulled her pre-assembled shoulder impingement program out of a binder. “I want you here twice a week and we’ll follow up on your progress.”

“That’s it?”

“Yeah,” she shrugged. “If you seem like you need more attention, then we’ll add a session weekly. Honestly, Paxton, this is a really common injury, especially for swimmers. It’s known as ‘swimmer’s shoulder.’ You’ll be back in the pool in plenty of time to qualify for 2032.”

He smiled warmly at her, and she could see his stress deflating. “Thanks, that is really good news.” He stood from his seat and advanced toward her before catching himself, “Can I hug you again?”

She grinned. “As long as you keep your arm below 90 degrees.”

She saw a spark in his eyes as he thought of a retort, but his expression changed to his easy smirk and he nodded. “Deal. Thanks, Devi,” he said as he pulled her into him.

“So, we’re done, and I can go?” he seemed nervous.

“Yeah, I have another patient in,” she glanced at her watch, “thirty minutes? Wow, I thought this was a quick one.”

“What time do you get off?”

“My last appointment is from 4:00 to 4:45 this afternoon.”

“Let’s get dinner tonight. Are you busy?”

Was he asking her on a date? No, just as friends to reconnect. Still, she had to keep things professional. Dot the T’s, cross the I’s – “What?” Nailed it.

He exhaled in a gentle laugh, his right arm reaching up to scratch the back of his neck. “I, umm, I asked you to have dinner with me.”

“Like a date?”

He stared at the floor, another laugh escaping him. “Yeah, Devi, like a date.”

To be honest, she was a little angry with him for this. “Paxton, I can’t.”

“Devi, come on. It doesn’t have to be a big thing. It doesn’t even have to be a date! Just two friends, catching up.”

She opened the door, attempting to usher him out. “That would be hugely unethical, Paxton. If you wanted to ask me out, you shouldn’t have handpicked me to be your therapist. I can’t date one of my clients.”

He opened his mouth to argue, but then closed it again with a nod. “You’re right, I’m sorry, Dr. Vishwakumar. I didn’t mean to offend you. Thanks for all your help today. I’ll see you next week,” he told her. It would have seemed respectful or sincere if he hadn’t smirked the whole time. He was already at the front desk, presumably scheduling his next appointment when Devi reached her desk. He turned, his eyes settling on her immediately. “Oh and, Dr. Vishwakumar, you look good in that color,” he said with a smile that made her knees weak.

“Devi, he was flirting with you!” Hannah rushed to her side once he was gone.

“Lucky me,” she grimaced, pulling her phone from her desk drawer.

*We’re getting drinks tonight.. Actually we’re going out. Get hot.*

***

“So why are we going out tonight?” Fabiola asked, pouring shots of tequila in her kitchenette.

Fabiola had a cozy apartment in Koreatown. After receiving her degree in mechanical engineering from UC Berkeley, she received an entry-level job at Aldrin Corp. Within a few years, and some well-timed retirements, Fabiola was promoted to Senior Project Engineer. It was a job that was made for her. She often said she felt she was more hands on than previous SPE’s she’d worked for, but it also gained her the respect of her subordinates and made meeting deadlines that much easier. Her salary allowed her to not only afford this apartment near downtown LA, but to keep saving. Devi thought even with Eleanor climbing the ranks in her own field, Fabiola would be the first to have a suburban home like they’d all grown up in. For now though, she’d have the apartment closest to the clubs, and would be their pre-game hub.

“Yeah, you’re lucky you picked tonight. I had an early table read this morning, but I don’t have to be on set again until Sunday,” Eleanor agreed, touching up her eyeshadow.

“You will not believe who walked into my office today,” Devi groaned, leaving the bathroom to meet Fabiola at the counter. She swiped a shot off the counter and downed it with a wince.

“What about the salt and lime?” her friend asked in outrage. “I cut fresh lime for you!”

Devi grabbed a wedge and bit the flesh out and Fabiola nodded curtly. “I’ll use the salt for the next one.”

“So, who was it?” Eleanor asked, gliding out of the bathroom to join them. “Was it Sebastian? I know he’s almost 50, but I don’t know how you didn’t go home with him at the last premier party.”

Eleanor was a successful actress. She wasn’t a leading lady yet. She was gaining a lot of clout though. Enough clout to be at premier parties with Sebastian Stan… and Amandla Stenberg… and Tom Holland. Her phone was full of A-list stars and she was not legally obligated to keep her mouth shut about any time she spent with them. She very thoughtfully brought Devi and Fabiola to her premier parties as her guests, and that meant that they met a lot of A-list stars too.

“It was not Sebastian Stan,” Devi rolled her eyes, “and I’ll remind you, he texted you the next day asking you to thank me for calling his driver to come get him, remember? He was plastered and did not need to wake up with a stranger in bed with him.”

“Yeah, he’s really shy and private about his personal life. That fruit basket he sent you was intense.”

“Hello, losing focus,” Fabiola redirected while refilling Devi’s shot glass. “Who came in today?”

Devi groaned as she remembered her obligation to patient privacy. “I can’t tell you. Stupid HIPAA. What I can tell you is, he asked me out at the end of the session.” Eleanor and Fabiola grinned at each other before turning their grins on Devi. “What?”

“You wanted to say yes!” they said in unison.

“What? No, I didn’t. I’m dreading seeing this guy again next week.”

“No, you’re not! You’ve told us tons of stories of your patients flirting with you and your coworkers. Never once has it prickled you to the point of wanting to go get hammered in a nightclub.”

“Fabiola’s right! You’re fantasizing about getting with this guy in the exam room like on Grey’s. God, will that show ever not be relevant?”

“The point is the reason this has you tweaking is because you know you can’t do it.”

“Shut up, you guys suck.” Devi said, preparing a salt strip on her wrist for another shot.

“So, give him to another therapist so he isn’t your patient.”

“I tried before he even walked in, but Makayla said he asked for me specifically. She said something about how he knew another satisfied client.”

“Why is your job so sexual?” Eleanor laughed to which Devi glared. “Sorry, I’m sure all of your clients are satisfied.”

“You’re the worst,” Devi laughed, grabbing a lime wedge and thrusting the saltshaker into Fabiola’s hand. “Now are we pre-gaming or what?”

After more than enough shots resulted in finishing off the bottle in record time, Eleanor called for a car. The girls piled in, giggling a lot more than they had been a half hour prior. Fabiola insisted on controlling the music, though no one argued. Fab had an excellent knack for reading the energy and picking the perfect soundtrack. At least normally. This time, what she thought to be a great throwback jam, took Devi back eight years to a time that would only increase her anxiety to think about.  2022, Ben Gross’s Christmas Party.

***

“Coyote girl!”

“Hey, Trent,” Devi smiled meeting him and Paxton by the punch bowl. “You didn’t dip your balls in this again, did you?”

“Come on, Devi, I’m in college now. Would I do that?”

She looked between Trent and Paxton: Trent attempting to look way too innocent, Paxton analyzing him just as much as Devi. Suddenly, he turned to Devi. “You know what? I brought a bottle of Jack. It’s in the fridge. I’ll share with you.”

Devi smiled in gratitude as Paxton led her inside. “So, you’re drinking?”

He smiled. “We get a break from meets during Christmas break, so I figure once or twice won’t hurt.”

“David!” she heard as soon as she and Paxton entered the kitchen. The moment they started dating, Devi told Ben that the ‘nickname’ bothered her. He almost never used it anymore, but he was obviously drunk. “Wait, no sorry. Devi!”

“What’s up, man?” Paxton fist bumped Ben. “I don’t trust Trent, so Devi is drinking my stuff. Cool?”

“Cool, man, and thanks for the heads up. If you don’t trust Trent, I don’t trust Trent.”

Ben and Paxton had reached a relationship of friendly acquaintances by the time Paxton graduated. It had been a necessity when Ben tutored Paxton in order to meet the requirements for his swim scholarship to Stanford. At the time, it brought Devi mixed feelings. Being a few years removed from the drama of her sophomore year, it was nice they could all just hangout without it being weird.

“So, Ben, I gotta know. Why are you having a Christmas party?” Devi asked. “You don’t celebrate Christmas.”

“True, but you can’t throw a party over winter break without accepting that people are going to call it a Christmas party, and expecting half the guests to wear ugly sweaters whether it’s required or not,” Ben explained, only slightly tripping over his words. “I just steer into the skid.”

Devi and Paxton grinned at him before laughing. “Hey, whatever. It’s a dope party, and you guys are just too sober to appreciate it,” he accused good-naturedly, pulling a bottle of Jack Daniels out of the refrigerator. “Get moving and come find me when you’re on this level. Unless I’m with Emma, then come back later.”

“Emma?”

“His girlfriend. She’s wicked smart, and she even convinced his parents to be at parents’ weekend. They’ll probably get married,” Devi told him as Ben went back outside.

“I’m sorry, do you go to school in New Jersey or Boston?” he teased.

“What?”

“You’re turning into a New Englander, Vishwakumar,” he told her, taking a pull of the Jack. He stepped in close enough to her that she could feel the heat radiating off him.

“I am not,” she laughed taking the bottle from him and taking a pull of her own. She coughed a little as it went down causing him to smirk. “I don’t usually drink whiskey.”

“Here,” he turned to the fridge and grabbed a soda. “Chase with coke, it helps.”

Just as she went to open the can, a group of people came in, immediately crowding them because they were going to use the island for a game of quarters. At least, that’s what she was able to glean from the drunken shouts of her old classmates. She felt an arm wind around her waist and looked up at Paxton – her chest practically pressed against his.

“Hey, you want to catch up to get drunk or catch up with a friend?” he leaned down to speak in her ear.

“How about both?” she smiled, grabbing the bottle of Jack and slipping through the crowd with Paxton close behind.

“Devi, come on! Catch up!” she came back to reality to have Eleanor thrusting one of the mini fireball bottles she’d shoved in her purse into Devi’s hand.

“I hate fireball,” she groaned.

“Fireball!” her friends shouted, and they all downed a bottle.

“Ladies, we’re here.”

“Okay, okay, one more for the club,” Devi insisted.

With a cheer, all three girls shot another small bottle of fireball. After tipping the driver, Eleanor led them past the line and walked straight up to the bouncer.

“Ladies,” the man smiled. “You on the list?”

“Eleanor Wong,” she stated her name with a flutter of her eyelashes.

He was silent as he skimmed his clipboard. “I don’t see it…” he trailed off, looking up at Eleanor, “but hey, aren’t you in that new spy thriller with Michael B. Jordan?”

Her eyes lit up, “Yes! Shot for Death! Tom keeps saying I’ll get used to being recognized, but it’s such a rush! Oh, here he is now,” she held a finger up to the stout but muscular man as she answered a phone call. “Hello darling,” she said with a flourish. “We’re outside, but he says I’m not on the list. Could you?”

Within seconds, Tom Holland popped his head out the door. “Mal, they’re with me. They’re under my name.”

“My apologies, ladies. Head on in, and I can’t wait to see you on the big screen again, Ms. Wong.”

“Thank you!” she blew him a kiss as the girls hurried inside.

Tom and Eleanor greeted each other with a hug as Devi and Fabiola wandered over to the bar. When Eleanor first made friends with some prominent stars, Devi was star struck regularly. As she got more into her career, and treated more and more celebrities, she began to get used to being in their presence.

“Drinks or shots?” Fabiola shouted over the music.

“Shot for me and then I’m going to dance.”

“Yes, girl!” Fabiola pounded the bar, gaining the attention of one of the bartenders. “Can we get three B-52s?”

“Make it four and put it on my tab,” a man’s voice called from beside Devi. Her initial thought was that Eleanor and Tom had caught up to them, but it clicked almost immediately that the accent was distinctly American. And then it clicked again that she would recognize that voice anywhere.

“What are you doing here?” she wheeled around on him.

“I’m out with some friends. What are you doing here, doctor? Are you following me?”

“Paxton?” Fabiola caught his eye past Devi.

“Hey, Fabiola,” he grinned. “Good to see you!”

“Same,” she smiled back. “I didn’t know you were in town?”

“Yeah, I’m home for some physical therapy,” he shouted gesturing to his shoulder.

It took Fabiola exactly no time to connect the dots, and Devi could feel it. Instead of looking at either of her current companions, she accepted the shots from the bartender with as much gratitude as she could muster. Devi carefully pushed a shot to her left and then to her right, clutching the remaining shots tightly.

“I’ll go give Eleanor hers.”

“Nope,” Fab cut off her escape and plucked the extra shot out of her hand. “I’ll do that. You take yours and go dance!”

“Oh, I’ll cheers to that,” Paxton said, leaning forward so she could hear him. “Come dance with me.”

Maybe it was alcohol from their successful pregaming clouding her judgment, or maybe it was the way she could lose herself in Paxton’s gaze just as easily as when she was fifteen years old, but Devi couldn’t stop herself from nodding and clinking her glass against his as they downed the shots in unison. He smirked at her, grasping her hand gently and leading her to the dancefloor.

It was crowded already, but so many of the people here loved that paparazzi never got in, and they could cut loose. Devi loved that atmosphere. Under the flashing lights, music pumping so loud you can’t hear anything else, dancing with friends, or a guy she would be way too nervous to talk to otherwise – it all just made her feel alive.  She felt that same adrenaline as Paxton kept his left hand firmly on her hip but did not pull her into him. Instead, he left just enough space between them for things to be innocent.

As the beat dropped on a new mix, Devi felt Paxton’s hand like an anchor. They locked eyes for a moment, and she swore she could feel the energy crackling between them. The corner of his mouth quirked up, gaze never leaving hers. This man asked her on a date that morning. The man she’d so desperately wanted as a teenager – the man that she nearly idolized and seemed so unattainable in her youth was the same man in front of her, the one looking at her like pure sex. The thought had a laugh bubbling up in her that she couldn’t stop. Full belly laughter overtook her as she bounced and swayed to the music and just lost herself.

She wasn’t sure how much time past, but at some point, Eleanor and Fabiola joined them. The music had shifted from EDM to a mix of the most beloved hip hop music from ten to fifteen years ago. As intended, that shift had more people pouring onto the dancefloor, and having any space to breathe was impossible. To Devi, it was perfect. The beat was pulsing so loud, it felt like her own heartbeat, and the familiar music was lending to everyone’s closet-love for karaoke as people around her belted the lyrics. Then she felt two hands at her hips pulling her slightly backwards to dance against a man’s chest. Normally, she didn’t mind dancing with strangers. As long as they didn’t get too handsy, she didn’t even mind the approach this guy took. Tonight, things felt different. Her eyes flew open, and immediately met Paxton’s. His look was calculating. He wasn’t going to stop her if this was what she wanted.

The thought brought an easy grin to her face as she reached a hand out toward him. His lips twitched into a crooked grin, but he met her hand and spun her into him. In that moment, time stood still. Devi didn’t notice who had approached her before Paxton’s rescue. She wasn’t sure if Fabiola and Eleanor were still on the floor with them. All she knew was that her back was pressed against Paxton’s chest, and it felt like she belonged there. They swayed to the music together, and she felt his left hand rest on her hip again. His other hand swept the hair off her right shoulder, and she felt him press tighter against her.

“What do you want from me, Devi?” he asked, his breath hot on her neck.

“You’re not dating anyone?” she asked disbelievingly. “Not at all, not even one-night stands?”

They were sitting in Ben’s theater room on the floor passing the significantly less full bottle of Jack between them. It was nice. It was easy. The awkwardness of what happened in high school long behind them.

“Hey, I have never had a one-night stand,” he pointed at her. “Have you?”

“Well, no, but I’m me and you’re you,” she laughed.

“What does that mean?” his eyes narrowed at her good-naturedly as he took another pull from the bottle of Jack and passed it back to her.

“I just mean, one of us probably has people lining up to sleep with them, and the other one is me,” she shrugged.

“Why would you even say that? Have you looked in a mirror?”

“Come on, stop, I didn’t mean” –

“I’m serious, Devi. You are a very weird girl, like that’s your brand, but it’s hot. You’re hot. If you really think guys aren’t interested in you, you’re not paying attention.”

“Stop,” she waved him off, cheeks burning hot red. “You don’t have to do that.”

He was scooting closer to her until their thighs were touching, and his gaze was searching hers looking for any hesitation. “I know. I don’t have to do anything. You know what I want to do?”

Her skin tingled under his stare, and she shook her head ‘no.’ Her stomach somersaulted when he reached a hand up to cradle her jaw. “I want show you how beautiful you are.”

Devi turned in his embrace, draping her hands around his neck. Paxton’s head immediately fell to the crook of her neck, and she played with the hair at the nape of his neck as she leaned into his ear. “I want you to show me how beautiful I am.”

His head snapped up and he pulled back to look her in the eye. His jaw had gone slack, and he was looking at her with such curiosity that it made her second guess herself. Maybe he wasn’t interested after all. Maybe he’d just been swept up in not seeing her after so long that morning. Maybe he just wanted to see if he could still get her to fall at his feet. Maybe this was just a game to him. She started to unwind her arms from him to escape her embarrassment when he pressed one of her arms down to stay in place around him. His other hand was firmly pressed against the small of her back.

“Let’s get a drink,” he suggested, waiting for her confirmation. When she nodded, he took her hand off his shoulder, pressed a kiss against the back, and led her from the dancefloor back to the bar.

“What are you drinking?”

“Whiskey sour,” she told him.

“Thought you didn’t drink whiskey?” he grinned.

“Things change.”

When their drinks were made, he nodded to a staircase, and she set off toward it with him close behind. The upper room was a quieter atmosphere. Tables and chairs, booths, a pool table – it was a great offset from the chaos downstairs. He placed their drinks down on a booth, and she slid into one side expecting him to slide in opposite her. Instead, he slid in next to her.

“Paxton, look I’m sorry if I misread things, I just” –

He placed a hand on her knee. “No, don’t do that. You didn’t misread anything. Just tell me why you said that exactly?”

***

Devi woke to the feeling of a hammer slamming against her skull. She could feel the sunlight piercing through her eyelids, making her roll over and press her face harder against her pillow. She heard a toilet flush, and that prompted her to inspect her surroundings a bit more closely. Blearily, she moved to a sitting position as the faucet in the bathroom ran. It was her apartment, that much she could tell. Maybe Eleanor and Fabiola decided to come back here? Fabiola lived closest to the club. That was why they pre-gamed at her place. Why would they come back to her place? Was she the only one coherent enough to call for a ride? With the way she felt this morning, that was unlikely. No, so who was using her bathroom and whistling as they walked down the hallway?

She grabbed her phone off the nightstand and unplugged it from the charger. She had a few unread messages in her group text with her friends.

*Let us know when you wake up this morning, we want to hear all the dirty details!*

*Also, avocado is a great hangover food!*

The dirty details? What did Devi do? So much of the previous night was a blur. At least she has clothes on – one of her dad’s old t-shirts and a pair of pajama shorts. That had a to be sign that she didn’t do anything too stupid. So, who was out there?

Only one way to find out, she thought, hoisting herself out of bed. She stepped out of her bedroom, and immediately smelled eggs. Devi padded down the hallway to the kitchen, and there was a steaming cast iron skillet sitting on a hot pad at the breakfast bar. No one was in the kitchen though.

“Hey, you’re up!” a voice cheered from behind her. Devi whirled around to the living room, to see Paxton on her couch carefully stretching one arm over the other shoulder.

“Jesus! Paxton, what are you doing?”

He tilted his head at her with a quizzical look. “I’m doing my shoulder exercises. You’re the one that assigned them.”

“Not that!” she couldn’t help but holler at him. “What are you doing in my apartment?”

He opened his mouth to respond, but then closed it again. His arms fell to his sides. “You actually demanded that I come here.”

“What?” her eyes went wide as she did her best to recall the events of last night. “Did we…?”

He started laughing as he stepped past her and behind the breakfast bar. “I knew you were too drunk to remember. No, we did not have sex. You were mad at me for that last night by the way.”

“No…” she trailed off taking a seat at the breakfast bar.

“Oh yeah, I told you I was going to take the couch, and you said you’d been waiting like ten years to see whether or not I stuff my swim briefs,” he smirked. “I don’t, in case you’re still wondering.”

“Oh my god,” this new information and the headache still throbbing against her skull was enough to make her vomit. Instead, she just dropped her head to the counter, the pressure soothing against her forehead.

“Come on, it’s not that bad. It was cute… in a very Devi way,” he brushed her arm gently. “Sit up, you need to eat.”

She shifted her head slightly to meet his eye. “I yelled at you for not showing me your dick, and you stayed the night and made me breakfast.”

“Yeah, I had to make sure you were okay,” his eyes warmed to hers. “Now, sit up and eat.”

She obeyed and smiled when he pushed a loaded plate toward her. “This looks awesome.”

“Yeah, I had to work with what you had, but I call it a southwest sweet potato hash,” he told her proudly. After loading up his own plate, he came around the breakfast bar to sit next to her.

“So, anything else I should know about last night?”

“Well,” he paused to swallow a bite of food, “what’s the last thing you remember?”

She thought about the events of the previous night, as Paxton hopped up again.His energized movements distracting her, she asked, “Are you not hungover at all?”

“Based on what you told me, I had a lot less to drink last night than you did, so no, I’m not,” she heard him reply. She was staring at her plate because too much movement made her nauseated.

“You didn’t happen to make” –

“Coffee,” he cut her off happily, placing the mug in front of her, “and here’s some Tylenol. I was looking for blowfish or something but doesn’t look like you have any.”

She gratefully took the little pills from him and threw them back with a swig of coffee. “I used to. I stopped getting hungover for a while too.”

“Why’d you go so hard last night?”

“I think you know why,” she said with a glare.

He pursed his lips in a pout before choosing to ignore her implication and coming back to sit with her with his own cup of coffee. “So, what do you remember from last night?”

“I remember dancing with you on the dance floor.”

“Anyone else? Eleanor, Fab, some dude that I’m pretty sure was Lucas Hedges?”

“Okay, yeah. Some guy started dancing on me, and I wanted to dance with you instead,” she replied casually, continuing her breakfast.

“Nothing else? You don’t remember going to the upper room to talk about what happened at Ben’s party?”

“We talked about Ben’s party?”

“Well, yeah, funny thing is, I didn’t remember that,” he told her with a nostalgic grin. “Like I remembered it, but I thought I dreamt some of it.”

“What? Like what?”

“Well you were gone when I woke up, and never said anything about it so I thought…”

“You thought you dreamt making out with me?”

“Well, see so that’s all we did? It’s hard, because when I’ve dreamt about it since then…” he trailed off, the tips of his ears turning pink at his own admission.

“You’ve dreamt about it since then?”

“Not like a ton… it’s not like I’ve dreamt about you every night for the last eight years, that would be kinda creepy probably. Just any time something reminds me of you, it seems to come up… high school, something about Gross in the news… seeing you on social media… it’s not that weird.”

“Paxton…”

“I mean, whatever, I know I’m going to dream about last night for a long time,” he winked. She didn’t understand how he could have so little shame. Then she remembered she had enough to go around. “You made it your mission to remind me of every dirty detail of that night at Ben’s.”

“We made out last night?”

“We started to, yeah. Instead of getting hot and heavy, you ran off to the bathroom, and I found you with your head in a urinal. That’s when it was time to go home.”

“And that’s what you’re going to dream about?” she scoffed.

“No, I’m going to dream about you pawing at my zipper yelling about pringle cans.” He settled into a close-lipped smile, but it didn’t hide the mirth in his eyes.

“Oh my god,” Devi groaned, slipping off her stool to flop over onto the couch.

She could hear Paxton laughing. Soon, he was settled on the couch with her. She turned her body just enough to catch his eye, and he patted his lap. She rolled her eyes but stretched out so her head was on his thigh and she was looking up at him. His features were soft, gentle, caring.

“You don’t have to be embarrassed,” he told her softly, one hand carding through her hair. “I don’t mind when you act like you like me.”

“I’m not acting,” her eyes fell shut, feeling his fingers stroke her scalp could lull her to sleep.

“Yeah?”

She hummed an affirmative. She was pretty sure if he kept scratching her head like that, she’d say yes to anything. And of course, she liked him. She was never able to truly deny that fact. Even when she’d had boyfriends, she’d be lying if Paxton wasn’t always lingering in the back of her mind. How could he not be? His appearance was god-like. He was beyond hiding behind words – if she was honest, that was her favorite part – he wasn’t afraid to be real with her. And he never gave up on her. As rocky as their friendship had started, as often as they lost touch, here he was telling her, he still thought about her.

“I’m glad you’re here,” she almost whispered.

“Me too.”

She felt his hand trace the edge of her face, and couldn’t stop herself from leaning into his touch, and pressing a kiss to his palm. Somehow, it was comfortable, intimate. She felt like she was born to be here. The same thought she had eight years ago came back to the forefront of her mind: It’s always been Paxton. At that realization, her eyes popped open. He’d leaned his head back, eyes closed; he looked as close to dozing off as she felt moments ago. His lips formed a peaceful grin, just slightly curved upwards, and his two small moles pinning opposite corners of his mouth were barely shadowed by the growth of his facial hair overnight. His long eyelashes curled naturally in a way, Devi thought, women would kill for. She always knew he was hot, but she never really took the time to notice how beautiful he was.

Before she could stop herself, before she could think twice, Devi leaned up and pressed her lips to his. And time stood still. Just as she was going to pull away again, his hand found hold in her hair, and his lips moved over hers with fervor. She wasn’t sure who opened to the other first, but in a flash their tongues were dueling for dominance. Instead of admitting defeat, Devi pulled his bottom lip between her teeth and bit down. He, honest to god, whimpered in response. She smiled against mouth before he swallowed her smile with one, two, and then three slow languid kisses. He pulled away, pressed her to his chest that she could feel was heaving. When she looked up to meet his eye, they were closed again, but he wore the most breathtaking smile she’d ever seen.

“Mm... I want to take my time with you,” he told her, pressing another kiss to her lips. She blushed at his implication. “God, I am not going to forget this any time soon.”

“Mood, my guy. Big mood,” she agreed, sitting up next to him.

He turned so he was halfway facing her, and his left hand took refuge on her thigh. “Can I ask you something?” he asked, waiting for her nod before continuing. “Okay, I don’t want to pop this, like, bubble we’re in right now, but… what does this mean going forward?”

“Paxton…” her eyes softened. She knew what she wanted, but with her job, how could she…

“Devi, listen. I know it’s my fault that you’re my therapist. I know that I made this difficult, but I really just wanted to see you, and now? I know one thing for sure, I really don’t want to wait another eight years to kiss you again.” he sighed, and repositioned again so he was fully facing her, clasping her hands in his. “I’ll wait for four weeks if it’ll make you happy. I’ll be your dirty little secret if that’s what you want. Just don’t turn me down. Let me take you to dinner, bring you flowers, make you soup when you’re sick. Give me a chance to sweep you off your feet.”

“Honestly, I’m stuck on ‘dirty little secret.’”

He smirked. “Lingering looks… shirtless assessments… secret dates… secret hookups,” he told her sensually, pausing between each suggestion to press a kiss first to her lips, then the corner of her mouth, her jaw, and finally ended by sucking her earlobe into his mouth and dragging his teeth over it. She shuddered under him, and felt him smile against her neck. “Do you like that idea?”

“Oh, fuck yeah.”

[shima-draws]

Shima Shima Shima please tell us all about your Wonderland AU for Tododeku!!!

Oohhh! Ooohh I would love to okay let’s see

Honestly it would probably just be easier for me to explain the original movie’s plot rather than just. Trying to make sense of what you don’t know with Izuku and everybody else’s involvement so.

Note that all of this is purely from memory having seen the movie once like, a couple weeks ago in theaters LMAO so there’s definitely gonna be some things I’m hazy on. But! The movie’s online now so after I watch it again I’ll update this post with a better summary!

Under the cut for MAJOR spoilers and also bc it got really long!

So! The Wonderland! It’s about a girl named Akane who isn’t terribly self-assured. She has friends and has a good life but she’s sort of…timid, so she doesn’t put herself out there when she should. This causes issues within her group of friends and even with her own mother, who Akane is sort of distanced from.

The day before her birthday, Akane’s mother sends her to meet up with her older friend Chii to receive a birthday gift. Akane does NOT want to go because Chii’s very…overbearing, and excited, and very very outgoing, completely opposite to her. Chii travels all around the world gathering antiques for her shop (mostly light fixtures tho) and is a pro at haggling trades and prices. Akane calls her a witch bc she rips people off sometimes lmao

Akane arrives at the shop and finds a strange slab with an indented handprint. Akane fits her hand into the indent and finds that it fits perfectly!! This causes a reaction which calls upon a resident from Wonderland, an alchemist named Hippocrates, to arrive from Chii’s basement (which is basically just a little storage hole). Chii immediately gets a broom and starts hitting him with it, calling him a creep and an intruder LMAO

Hippocrates explains that Akane is the Goddess of the Green Wind, and that Wonderland needs her help. Next to Akane, on the table, a little doll springs to life, who’s revealed to be a tiny little chibi character named Pipo who works as Hippocrates’ apprentice. (He’d been hiding there all morning, I guess to scope out the person whose hand would fit into the indentation.) Akane’s hand is still stuck in the little slab by the way and she keeps freaking out. She says she absolutely does not want to go to Wonderland to help them, so Hippocrates gifts her with an item called the momentum anchor. Essentially it’s an item that forces a person to keep moving forward and looking ahead when they try to go back. (Basically it’s an item that forces character development which is pretty wild lol) After Akane gets her hand free, the momentum anchor forces her to accompany Hippocrates and Pipo to Wonderland. Chii decides fuck it she’s going on a magical adventure too, and tags along with them!

When they arrive in Wonderland, they end up at the top of a large sort of watchtower/nest for a huge ass bird. Chii befriends the bird, who is protecting her eggs. As they make their way to the nearest town, they run into a man and his mother, whose ride/carriage cart thing was destroyed by an enormous machine that Hippocrates calls the “armored mouse” (because it kinda looks like a mouse). The armored mouse attacks the cart and essentially swallows it, including the sweater that the old lady had made. Inside the armored mouse, the Main Antagonist ™ of Wonderland greets the newcomers. His name is Zan Gu, and he’s intimidating as all hell. He’s not openly cruel, just quiet, and isn’t afraid to assert his villainly dominance. Most of his face is hidden, but he seems to have a skeletal, sort of robotic body. His cohort, a little cat person named Doropo, teases them. Doropo’s basically a mischievous troublemaker who enjoys making fun of others and getting in people’s way.

Zan Gu and Doropo continue on in the machine, and they head straight for the watchtower. The armored mouse starts to tear up the iron staircase, disrupting the tower. Chii rushes over and manages to save one of the bird’s eggs. Hippocrates calls upon the sheep from the nearby town to come help (and they’re HUGE and FLUFFY and adorable). The sheep crowd in on the armored mouse, and Zan Gu is forced to retreat.

The man who they had saved introduces himself as the mayor of the nearest town. The group walks over to the town, surrounded by hundreds of sheep. Hippocrates explains on the way that the land is dying because there’s a lack of water, which is one of the reasons why he brought Akane there. Akane’s like “How the hell am I supposed to help you get your water back”. They pass a gorgeous flower field which slowly gets worse and more dried out.

The villagers are relieved to see Hippocrates there, who is pretty famous in this world bc of his status as an alchemist. They also jump on Akane, super excited that the Green Goddess of the Wind is here to help them! Night falls and Akane freaks out, because she’d obviously wanted to go home like hours ago, and her mother is probably worried. Chii, on the other hand, is super nonchalant about everything that just happened, and is like “Well we’re already here and it’s late so we should stay, it’ll be fine!”

The group has dinner with the mayor while his mother starts to knit a new sweater to replace the one she lost to Zan Gu. Here we get a bit more into Wonderland’s history–the mayor explains that the flowers and sheep are what they use to make these sweaters and other clothing, but they aren’t selling as well as they used to anymore bc of the water crisis. He’d originally been on his way to a place called Sakasatongara Market with his mother to enter her sweater into a contest. Hippocrates takes over and discusses the water crisis in more detail. The original Green Goddess of the Wind had come over 600 years ago, and had saved Wonderland when they were in a similar crisis. Apparently, there’s a ceremony that is performed every year called the drop mist ceremony, which properly distributes water to the whole land. This ceremony is supposed to be performed by the prince, who supposedly has a lot of magical power, coming from a generation of royalty who can control water. According to Hippocrates the prince has been gravely ill over the past year, and this is because his parents had died, leaving him to grieve and become very sick as a result. Hippocrates believes that Akane, being the new Goddess, has the power to heal the prince and allow him to perform the ceremony. Akane again denies that she has any sort of power like that. During all this Chii keeps pointing out contradicitons in Hippocrates’ story and it’s hilarious because it makes him very angry and flustered LMAO and Akane’s like “Chii-chan, you’re being super rude right now”. I can’t remember if it’s here or not, but Akane sees a picture on the wall of the previous Green Goddess, and she looks really familiar…kind of like her mother…?

The next day, the group of four (Hippocrates, Pipo, Akane and Chii) decide they’re going to travel to Sakasatongara Market in order to deliver the mayor’s mother’s sweater to be entered into the contest. The market is on the way to Timeless Rain Castle, where the prince resides. The sweater is placed into Akane’s care, who promises she will deliver it. They’re given a car, which will help greatly with the journey, and then they set off!

Akane and Chii admire the scenery of Wonderland as they travel, but are saddened when they begin to see areas that have a clear lack of water and have died out from neglect. Meanwhile, in a grungy, dark city, Zan Gu approaches a man and brings him more metal. Apparently the armored mouse had been going around collecting metal, which we find out later that it’s so the armored mouse can be upgraded and reinforced even more to wreak more havoc (along with one other essential upgrade, which I’ll get to later). The man says he needs more metal if he wants to make something out of what they have. Zan Gu does his whole “threaten the victim” schtick, and guarantees he’ll bring more, as long as the job gets done. (I might be remembering these sections out of order but it all happens within the same timeframe, more or less.)

Back to Akane and co., they’re driving in the desert and they head right into the biggest fucking dust storm in the world. They take shelter under a large rock, hiding out there until the storm blows over. They were given huge fluffy suits (bascially fursuits) that were made from the sheep. They’re pink and comfy but horribly embarrassing for Hippocrates in particular to wear LMAO but they’re a great shelter for the storm. After the storm subsides, Hippocrates attempts to fix the car, but finds it’s getting late and that they’ll have to wait until the morning to do so. In the middle of the night, Akane wakes up to see Chii standing outside, looking at the stars. It’s absolutely gorgeous and beautiful.

The next morning, Hippocrates fixes the car! Hooray! With that they drive further north and arrive in a very snowy little village. Akane hears more stories about how things were when water was plentiful, and they’re exposed firsthand to how the shortage has caused people to become greedy. Zan Gu shows up while Hippocrates is out refueling and Doropo threatens the inn owner into giving up food and water. Zan Gu has an intense staredown with Akane but doesn’t do anything more before leaving.

Hippocrates sees the armored mouse on the move and follows them. At this point the mouse has been upgraded and looks more terrifying than ever, and can bulldoze and tear things apart much easier. Zan Gu goes to receive new materials, which are revealed to be missiles for a cannon. Hippocrates intervenes, but Doropo uses his magic to turn the alchemist into a fly.

Akane and Chii worry about Hippocrates’ whereabouts, but with some prodding, decide to head to Sakasatongara Market without him since they’re on a bit of a time crunch, seeing as the drop mist ceremony has to be performed the next day. They pass by Hippocrates’ house (but Pipo informs them nobody is there) and Pipo’s childhood home in the trees, where tons of other little chibi sprites hang about. The girls travel through a steep mountain range as Hippocrates tries to guide them–but being a fly, he keeps getting ignored and brushed off, even by Pipo, who can’t tell it’s him. Eventually they have to drive over a rickety wooden bridge, and Chii teases Akane about her nonexistent love life at school in an attempt to keep things lighthearted and distract them from the terrifying ride over the bridge. Akane pokes back and makes fun of Chii for her failed conquests of men. One of the planks breaks and Chii steps on it, and they’re both screaming as they cross the rest of the bridge LOL

At some point during all this we cut to Timeless Rain Castle, where everyone is preparing for the drop mist ceremony. The prince’s closest advisers decide to go up and visit, and it’s revealed that the prince isn’t ill at all–he’s trapped within a little metal doll’s body, a curse placed upon him by Hippocrates’ “rival”. (He’s a good guy tho too, apparently.) This rival has been asleep for a long time, and is nearly impossible to wake because of how hectic his magic is. (We later see a scene in which several guards attempt to rouse him. His house is literally sitting on the edge of a cliff on one corner, the rest of it floating in the air, and he’s sleeping. No wonder they’re cautious about waking him up LMAO) Because this other magical user has been asleep, the prince has been trapped in this form for nearly a year. They scramble to find out a way to revert him to normal before the ceremony the next day.

After that it seems to be easy going for the girls. Pipo warns them nanoseconds before they drive off another bridge–and land in a giant lily pad! They’re on a huge pond now, with koi fish the size of whales. Pipo douses himself with magic dew that lets him breathe underwater and makes sure his clothes don’t get wet. Chii happily jumps in after, and Akane, after hesitating, also joins them. They ride the giant fish, who push the lily pad with their car across the pond. Akane picks up some sea shells at the bottom of the pond and puts them in her pocket to save for later.

Akane, Chii, and Pipo (and Hippocrates, still a fly) finally arrive at Sakasatongara Market!! First they have to go through customs, in which they’re judged by a group of talking cats (which Chii finds HILARIOUS). Akane is declared as a guilty party bc a few days before, she’d pulled her cat’s tail for sitting on her face. Her cat is revealed to be the leader of the group. She’s briefly given a cat tail herself, which is pulled on, so she understands how much it hurts LOL while Chii teases the rest with catnip and treats. They’re allowed entrance into the city. From the distance, they can see the prince arriving as well, presumably in the royal carriage. They have no idea he’s still in doll form.

In the prince’s tent, Hippocrates’ rival finally arrives. (Guess they managed to wake him up lol) The others beg for him to turn the prince back to normal. The wizard points out that the doll they’ve been guarding so carefully all this time is, in fact, not the prince at all. He uses his magic to transform it–revealing that it had just been a stuffed toy, acting as a decoy. Everyone panics, wondering where the actual prince has gone.

Akane and Chii gaze on as Pipo points out the well where the drop mist ceremony takes place. Sitting in the center of the city (which is p much set up like a giant stadium, with steps leading down to the middle), the well is a huge symbol of peace for the land! And it’s a central part of the ceremony, as well. Chii rushes off to bargain and barter while Akane and Pipo go to enter the old lady’s sweater into the contest.

As they’re walking around, they catch sight of Doropo, who just stole goods from a nearby shop. Pipo orders Akane to chase after him, which she does. As they follow him to the outskirts of the city, Pipo realizes that Doropo might be one of his friends from school, another chibi sprite named Ron. Ron had gone on to apprentice with the wizard, and Pipo with Hippocrates, so Ron had always viewed them as rivals.

On the outskirts of the city, Akane and Pipo see that the armored mouse is there. Moved by her own determination, Akane sneaks into the machine to see what Doropo and Zan Gu’s plans are. Hippocrates follows them in.

They catch a conversation between Doropo and Zan Gu. Zan Gu seems to be getting increasingly frustrated and hasty, and Doropo keeps blowing him off. Zan Gu eventually snaps at him, and the truth comes out. Apparently they plan to destroy the well before the ceremony can take place. If this happens, no water will come to Wonderland ever again, essentially dooming everybody. Zan Gu had gathered the missiles and upgraded the machine with a cannon to achieve this. Zan Gu blames Doropo for everything that happened to him, saying that while Doropo is obviously hesitating, he had been the one to transform him into a monster in the first place. Doropo sadly admits that he just didn’t want the prince to hate him…and this is the part that hit me HARD because we realize that Zan Gu has been the prince this whole time!! We get a flashback to when the prince was actually trapped inside the doll. He angrily says to Ron that if he could allow him to speak, he could turn him back, right? Ron makes an attempt, but he’s not that experienced with magic, so it ends up in a total disaster, transforming the prince into a basic corpse.

It’s at this point where things are set into motion. Akane eventually reveals herself. Pipo calls out Doropo on his disguise, and he transforms back into Ron. Zan Gu prepares to bust through the city walls and destroy the well. The wizard releases all of the magic Doropo had caused, making Hippocrates transform back into his regular self. Zan Gu busts into the city, and Hippocrates tries to stop him. Right as he’s lining up to take the shot at the well, Akane grabs onto him and starts her Grand Heroine Speech. She points out that Zan Gu–the prince–was scared, and that’s why he was doing this, because he was trying to run away from his responsibility. The prince explains his story in detail.

The drop mist ceremony, being a very important one among their family for generations, had been successfully performed by his father and grandfather. However, pressure from his parents, peers and all of Wonderland was too much for the prince to handle, so he started to reject any practices of the ceremony. After his parents passed, that pressure became even worse, because he was the only one left able to perform the ceremony properly. He got angry and scared and started to push everyone away and lash out at those who tried to help. Eventually it got so bad that the wizard had to come in and use his magic to transform the prince into the metal doll, essentially trapping him there as punishment and as a way to reflect on his mistakes. This obviously angered the prince, being trapped in a body that couldn’t move or speak, which eventually led to Ron’s involvement and his transformation. The prince wants to destroy it all, either out of revenge or maybe because he just has little to no empathy in this form and is only full of negative emotions, who can say…

Akane goes on to encourage him again despite all this, and tells him he’s not alone, that she promises she’ll be there to help him. She tells him how inspired she’s become traveling through Wonderland, getting to meet all of the wonderful people, and seeing how beautiful it is. She says she wants to save it, and that she wants to help the prince. Her words, and her change, break the curse on the prince, transforming him back into his adorable princely self. The prince agrees to perform the ceremony. Chii meets up with the group and apologizes to Akane for leaving her alone to deal with everything. Akane asks Hippocrates if they can make another momentum anchor for the prince, because the one she has helped her a lot along her journey and pushed her in the right direction, and she feels like that’s what the prince needs, too. Akane promises to return the next morning before the ceremony to be there for the prince.

Hippocrates, Akane, Chii and Pipo travel back to the alchemist’s house. Together they spend the night making a new momentum anchor, which requires a lot of magic. Akane gives it her all to help! They successfully make a new one, and hurry back to Sakasatongara Market. It’s morning now. Akane rushes to greet the prince, and gifts him with the anchor. She says that they match now, both having anchors. (The prince gets all soft and blushy and it’s very cute.) The prince talks with his adviser, who warns him what will happen if the ceremony fails. The prince knows it’s a huge price to pay, but says he’s ready to do it.

Akane is dressed up in Green Goddess robes, similar to the ones her mother wore. She and the prince cross the bridge which hangs over the well, which is so deep that you can’t even see the bottom. With Akane’s encouragement, the prince performs the ceremony. Nothing happens. The prince knows what has to be done–he strides up to the edge and prepares to throw himself in. Akane understandably freaks out and tries to stop him. The prince explains that if the ceremony fails the performer has to offer their body as a sacrifice to make water flow again. Akane’s like I’m NOT letting you do that, and the two of them start to struggle. The prince manages to make it to the edge–and Akane topples over with him. Both of them fall into the well.

Before they hit the bottom and inevitably die, they’re saved by the wizard. He explains that it was basically a sort of test–the prince had to show he was willing enough to make a sacrifice that big. He says that Akane is special, and that the prince should thank her properly for all her help. They’re sent back up to the bridge! The ceremony begins, and the prince rushes to get into position. The well erupts with water, straight up into the sky, an enormous geyser for all the world to see. The prince takes out his sword and starts to slice the water with it, which turns them into water birds. The water birds fly all over Wonderland and rain down on the land, restoring its vitality. He turns to face Akane to see that she is crying in joy, as is Chii.

After the ceremony ends, Akane and Chii go with Hippocrates and Pipo to return to their world. Akane frets over how much time has passed since they left. Hippocrates explains that, while three days have passed in Wonderland, only three hours have passed in their world. Akane and Chii realize that if they were ever to return, everyone they met probably wouldn’t be there anymore. Apparently the original slab with the hand print Akane’s mother had made was repaired–and Akane stumbles right into the wet plaster, printing her hand there for the next generation. She attempts to give the momentum anchor back to Hippocrates, but he tells her that it had vanished a long time ago, and that Akane had been moving forward by her own momentum and decisions. Akane and Chii kiss Pipo goodbye, and they say their farewells. Hippocrates gifts Akane with a little textile with a sword on it. They head back…and emerge from the basement of Chii’s shop. When they look back at it again, it’s just the storage compartment, and nothing else. Their adventure is over.

Chii goes to take a long nap. Akane rushes home to see her mother. By now she’s made the connection that her mother was the original Green Goddess of the Wind, who saved Wonderland over 25 years ago. Her mother notices the textile and compares it to the same one Akane has in her room. Akane thinks that she feels a lot closer to her mother now. And that’s where the movie ends!

Ofc there’s tons of extra stuff that I missed LMAO but that is the basic plot of the whole thing. Now, as for the AU…Izuku is Akane, obviously, but instead of having her reluctance to go on an adventure, he’s willing, but doesn’t think he’s worthy of being a hero to anyone, and is constantly stopped because of his own fear.

Ochako is Chii–she fits perfectly with her personality lol. Iida is Hippocrates, both being super punctual and easy to fluster. Kirishima is Pipo, and Bakugou is Ron/Doropo–good fits with their characters, and also. Kiribaku moments? *eyes emoji* Todoroki is obviously the prince/Zan Gu! In the AU I’m probably going to extend things a bit further, so Izuku and Ochako stay in Wonderland a bit longer, and Todoroki falls in love with Izuku >:’D As for the smaller roles, I haven’t really decided those yet. Toshi is probably going to be the mayor, and Nana as the old lady. I’ve gotta rewatch the movie again to help me decide on the rest :’D

Buuut yeah! I’m gonna take a lot of liberties with the AU and expand on the movie waaay more, and try to fill in all the plot holes. A lot of the narration felt really abrupt so I’m gonna have fun weaving it all together so it flows! And tons of Tododeku moments because uh YEAH

That’s all for now!! If you’ve got more questions hmu, I’m super down to chat about this more!

[shippostshitpost]

Dyed hair (my beauty guru Au)

Izumi was passionate about far too many things, though there were somethings that just got her beyond excited. Anything All Might related was sure to send her into a fit of mutters. Anything makeup related was sure to get her to be louder than necessary, like, Kirishima yelling about being manly loud. And of course her favorite time of year, summer.

Izumi hummed as she set everything up. What’s everything you ask? The greenette was going blonde, she did this almost every summer and by the time school came around she’d cut off her blonde and hVe a cute pixie cut of green. Kaachan always seemed to let up on the teasing when her hair was blonde, though she wasn’t sure why she was greatful. And what would a beauty guru do as she dyes her hair? Live stream it of course. This was the first live stream she was letting her friends see, she had to admit she was always a little shy about people she knew watching. For the longest time even her mother wasn’t allowed to watch.

She was beyond popular in the hero forms so she had amassed nearly two hundred viewers and now some close friends, she couldn’t help but laugh since their usernames were too obvious.

Iida_Tenya: MIDORIYA CHAN! DYING YOUR HAIR IS A SERIOUS COMMITMENT! ARE YOU SURE YOU WANT TO DO THIS?

“Oh hey Iida, welcome to the stream! Everyone this is my dear friend Iida! We go to UA together! And Iida I know hair dye is serious but I do this every few years so don’t worry yeah?” She began putting up her hair so that she could get the bottom layer first. A lose bun and some pins made it so only the lower levle was visible.

❄️ 🔥: Midoriya, I happen to find your current hair color quite beautiful. Why change it? But may I ask what color you are changing it too?

Izumi giggled a little beginning to mix her dye, she had to stop herself from blushing. Shouto Todoroki was always so formal, cool, calm, and collected. She envied him. Before she could respond kirishima butt in.

Manly_man007: WHO CARES WHAT COLOR IM SURE MIDORIYA WILL BE JUST AS BEAUTIFUL AS SHE ALWAYS IS EVEN IF SHE CHANGED HER HAIR TO SPOTS! I SUPPORT YOU MIDO-CHAN! IT IS SO COOL AND WOMANLY THAT YOU ARE EXPRESSING YOURSELF HOW YOU WANT.

“Oh gosh two more very good friends from UA. Todoroki and Kirishima, thank you both. And the color will be revealed at the end! Now this stream is my summer kick off! This summer we are turning up the heat and really hitting the ground on hero analysis. First up, I won’t be analyzing anything All Might related, so no more All Might looks, at least not this summer.” She watched the chat fly by with random strangers asking her questions and commenting on her new scar. Waiting until she saw a familiar user name.

King_Murder💚: Tch shitty nerd, you’re not talking about All might? Who the fuck are you? Where the fuck is Deku.” The green heart next to his name meant he was a mod for the chat, she had tasked him with kicking out anyone who was...over the top. Or just you know, a pervert.

Manly_Man007: AW COME ON BAKUGO THAT WAS RUDE! MIDORIYA IS PROBABLY TRYING TO ANALYZE NEW HEROES AND HEROES THAT MIGHT NOT GET ATTENTION FROM THE MEDIA!

Floatingoncloud9: Midoriya-chan!!! Also Kirishima why are you typing in all caps?

❄️ 🔥: probably to be “manly” and make sure he had Midoriya’s attention

Manly_Man007: BECAUSE ITS MANLY ALSO I WANT TO MAKE SURE MIDORIYA KNOWS IM HERE AND SUPPORTING HER!

⚡️ pika_boi ⚡️: woah Todoroki nailed it!

“Guys please let me focus for a second?” She laughed “this summer I’m doing looks and videos based on my dear friends at UA, the up-and-coming heroes of tomorrow!”

Manly_Man007: WOAH FOR REAL US?!?!? ME FIRST RIGHT!

King_Murder💚: hey you shitty extra I’m first! Obviously!

Iida_Tenya: Midoriya! I am quite flattered that you’d want to do a video and look based on my style! Though I admit I’m not sure what that all entails I’m proud to be the center of a project of yours! Or one of your projects. If there is anything you need do not hesitate to ask!

Floatingoncloud9: ☺️ ahhhhhhhhh?!?!?!?

⚡️pika_boi⚡️: this is a SHOCKING turn of events eh? eh?

Pinky: WOAH really? You’ll need a lot of pink for mine!

❄️ 🔥: Since you are doing a look based on me may I offer to buy your make up? Or any clothing you may need? Do you do clothing as well? I am new to your stream

Midoriyafan001: Ugh N00b she does make up, fashion, and breaks down hero stuff I can’t believe she calls you her friend and you don’t even know how her streams work! Are you even a fan? How much have you donated to her Patreon account? I bet you’re not even responsible for one tube of lipstick she owns! Do you know her favorite fashion trends are American

“H-hey Midoryafan001, please cool it down a little y-yeah? I don’t let my close friends see my streams but Pika Boi knew new prior to this as a streamer and told everyone about it. So please don’t scold them yeah?”

Her hair was under a cap as she waited for the color to change. Dying her hair took no time at all, she’d done it a few times and it was more muscle memory than anything, well for her anyways.

King_Murder💚: better watch it or you’ll be fucking outta here you shitty extra. And no half n half she doesn’t need you to buy her fucking make up, see those yen amounts? Those are fucking donations. Her fans already got it covered.

❄️ 🔥: I see...

💚Hooray! ❄️ 🔥 has donated 25,000 yen!💚

“Todoroki! You don’t have to do that!” She blushed now completely embarrassed, slowly regretting letting him watch.

💚Hooray! Iida_Tenya has donated 25,000 yen💚

Iida_Tenya: nonsense Midoriya! We must support you! As much as we can!

Manly_Man007: AW MAN IM SO BROKE!

“I Uh I need to go wash my hair be right back!” She set it to a screen with a Chibi washing her hair as she rushed to the shower.

💚Hooray !Manly_Man007 has donated 200 yen💚

💚Hooray! ⚡️pika_boi⚡️ has donated 200 yen!💚

💚Hooray! Momo has donated 59,000 yen💚

❄️ 🔥:Momo when did you get here?

Momo: oh I’ve been here just wanted to observe but I want to help Midoriya buy some new make up and clothes! Oh we should go shopping together us girls!

“I’m back and- oh my gosh guys no! Kirishima! Kaminari! Momo! You didn’t have to donate! All though I really look forward to that girls day now!” The changes the screen back to the camera. Her once green hair was now platinum blonde.

Manly_Man007: OH MY GOSH I NEED TO DONATE MORE YOURE SO PRETTY MIDORIYA YOU KICK BUT AND SERVE LOOKS!

❄️ 🔥: It is lovely though you look like Bakugo now.

King_Murder💚: SAY THAT TO MY FACE TO FUCKING CANDY CANE! DEKU AND I LOOK NOTHING ALIKE!

“Take it to a private chat you two!”

Izumi scolded though she calmed when she saw they weren’t typing anymore.

Iida_Tenya: I admire your new look!

Momo: wow beautiful!

Pinky: I WOULD LITERALLY DIE FOR YOU MIDORIYA LITERALLY I WOULD FIGHT ALL FOR ONE FOR YOU!

“Ah Mina! That’s so sweet really oh my gosh I oh wow I’d fight all for one for you too!” She sputtered out in an anxious rush.

Floatingoncloud9: GIRLS SUPPORTING GIRLS

⚡️pika_boi⚡️: I want to support Midoriya!

Iida_Tenya: I do as well!

Manly_Man007: MIDORIYA LET ME HELP YOU TOO ITS THE MANLY THING TO DO!

💚Hooray! IAmMidoriyasFatherSheDoesntNeedBoysAlsoDinnerIsReadyMomSaysHurry has donated 2,000,000 yen💚

King_Murder💚: Hi Mr.Midoriya, kept her safe on here some of these guys have no respect for a young female entrepreneur.

Katsuki knew better, he had never met Mr. Midoriya. But when he had been picking on her as a kid he had cops come talk to him and a few pro heroes. He didn’t question it anymore. He didn’t want to anger Mr. Midoriya.

Pinky: Woah your dad has an interesting user name?

“Yeah dad doesn’t like to talk much so he lets his user name say what he wants to? I’ve been trying to work on it with him....”

❄️ 🔥: Midoriya are you safe? It’s quite odd that your father would stalk your stream like this. Couple that with Bakugo’s behavior... Message me privetly as soon as you can!

Manly_Man007: WOAH YOUVE NEVER TALKED ABOUT YOUR DAD!!?!?!?!????!! MR MIDORIYA I HAVE SO MANY QUESTIONS!! WAS MIDORIYA ALWAYS INTO FASHION?!?!?!? WAS SHE ALWAYS SO STRONG?!?!?!? WERE YOU A LATE BLOOMER TO YOUR QUIRK TOO? WAS SHE A CUTE BABY?!?!?

Iida_Tenya: You have my most sincere apologies Mr. Midoriya! I have always tried to be nothing short of respectful towards all of the women in my class including your daughter. Clearly there has been some kind of misunderstanding. I will do my best to make sure I don’t compromise her honor!

“Ah well that’s all the time we have today!” She laughed nervously “I’ll post a picture of my hair all dried and styled tonight on my Instagram! See ya!” She cut the camera and sighed

“Dad was that really necessary?” She pouted

“Izumi, my girl,” the skeleton like man smiled at her “as your father it will always be necessary to scare off any boys that even breathe in your direction now come on, your mother made beef stew.”

[dragonologist-phd]

How about Parting Words Regret for Desta?

finally finished this prompt from my @badthingshappenbingo from forever ago!! Hooray for belated angst! XD

(AO3)

Blessings are rare things in the Living Lands.

Elayne should know; she has resided here, amongst the hills and forests and monsters, for over a century. Her soul has been molded by this harsh place, has been made strong enough to provide strength and guidance to those who would seek to serve Galawain. She stands tall as the High Priestess of the Seeker God’s temple, and though life here can be brutal, she has never asked for anything else.

She never asked to be a mother.

But Galawain does not act according to the whims of mortals. Elayne still remembers the day he delivered Desta to the temple. So young, yet obviously touched by the Seeker God’s power, carrying his essence of wilderness in her veins. The timing is fortuitous; Elayne is not quite past her prime, but she will not live forever. Someone must be trained to take her place.

That, she believes, is why this child has been brought to her. And it is never wise to turn away a blessing from Galawain.

 Elayne is tending to the altar in the main temple hall when Desta finds her. That alone is enough to tell her something is wrong; Desta has only grown more and more stubborn as of late, and rarely consents to entering the main hall of her own volition.

But she is here now- not in her temple robes but in plain traveling gear, with a bag thrown over her shoulder and an obstinate look on her face, and Elayne knows what it is she wants before she even says a word.

Still, she stays silent and continues her work of tending to the altar. The statue of Galawain that overlooks the hall is carved from oak found deep in the Lands, his visage fierce and wise. Elayne inspects the warps of the wood, checking for signs of aging, letting the seconds tick past as Desta stands behind her.

Under normal circumstances, the child is hardly shy of speaking her mind. If Elayne hadn’t already guess the purpose of this visit, Desta’s hesitation would tell her all she needs to know.

At last, Desta finds her voice, and her simple statement falls softly against the temple walls. “I’m leaving.”

Only then does Elayne stop in her work to face Desta. “Are you?” She makes no effort to hide the disapproval in her voice. She and Desta have had conversations like this before; the girl knows exactly why this is a bad idea. “And where, exactly, are you going?”

Desta falters for a moment, adjusting her grip on the bag nervously. “I don’t know,” she admits. “But I can’t stay here. Isn’t that obvious by now?”

“Not at all. This is where you belong.”

“No, it isn’t.” Desta’s voice cracks slightly as she repeats the same argument she’s tried to make a hundred times.

Elayne’s tone, in contrast, is steady as ever. “Galawain brought you here-”

“If Galawain brought me here on purpose he has a twisted sense of humor,” Desta snaps, although she deflates slightly when Elayne fixes her with a stern glare. “I’m sorry, but…you know as well I do this is hopeless. I’m never going to be a priestess like you.”

Elayne’s expression softens slightly, and she takes a step forward to rest a hand on Desta’s shoulder. “You are still young. I know things have not been these past few years. But you must not give up. You could be capable of great things here.”

Desta’s mouth tightens, and she crosses her arms in a sulky gesture. “You’ve let others leave.”

“As missionaries. They go to act as priests and spread Galawain’s message.” Try as she might to have patience, Elayne cannot stop the exasperation from seeping into her voice. “You cannot even recite a proper passage from the Book of the Hunt, nor have you made any progress with your magic lessons.”

“Because I don’t want to be priestess!” Desta exclaims, pulling away from Elayne’s touch. “Why is that so hard to understand? I don’t want anything to do with Galawain!”

“Enough.” Desta’s protestations are one thing when made in her own chambers, but in front of Galawain’s altar they are another entirely. “This discussion is over. You are staying here until I decide you are ready to leave, and for now I say you are not ready.”

Elayne expects Desta to leave then, to run off and hide in the gardens until nightfall. That is how many of their previous arguments have ended. But this time, Desta stands her ground, clenching her bag tightly to her side, and begins reciting. “Galawain’s greatest desire for us is that prey becomes predator, mewling babes grow into strong hunters, and the lost find their own enlightenment.”

The words are spoken through a clenched jaw, as if every statement is painful, but when she’s done Desta tilts her head up defiantly. “That’s a ‘proper passage’ from the Book of the Hunt, isn’t it? Kith should find their own enlightenment. So why won’t you let me find mine?”

“Because I know it is not true enlightenment you seek. You seek to flee from your duties, to renounce a life blessed by the gods- and for what?” Elayne’s knuckles tighten at her sides as she thinks about the world outside this temple- a world Desta is most certainly not prepared for, despite Elayne’s attempts at teaching. “You are not a healer, you are not a hunter. You are a dreamer who likes to grow flowers. The Living Lands will devour a child like you.”

Desta flinches, but she does not back down. “I’m not a child. I just believe there are better things out there than this constant talk of fighting and competition and forcing people to either be predator or prey!” Her brow furrows, and her eyes fill with that bright passion that Elayne always thought came straight from Galawain. She still thinks that, no matter how ironic it may seem in the moment.

But never before has Elayne seen those eyes filled with such anger. Desta takes a step back from Elayne and says, “Besides, you don’t know how strong I am. I don’t think you’ve ever really known me at all.”

Elayne scowls at the child before her- although looking at her now, she must admit that Desta is not a child any longer. Still so young, and foolish, and naïve. But not a child. Suddenly Elayne feels very tired, and she lets out a long sigh as she lets her gaze drift back to the statue of Galawain.

“I thought you were a blessing, when you first came here,” she says softly. “A sign from the Seeker himself.”

“I know. I’m sure I’m quite the disappointment to you both.”

Her words hang in the air for a long moment. Elayne has the feeling Desta is expecting some sort of response, but what does the priestess have left to give? She has taught the girl, raised her, tried to give her a life here. She has tried to impress upon her Galawain’s finest gift, more precious than any of Hylea’s pretty songs or the sunbeams of Eothas – survival.

And Desta has never wanted any of it. She would rather hold tightly to her rosy-colored view of the world, no matter how much pain it will cause her in the end.

Elayne contemplates the imposing, unyielding face of her god and thinks, So be it.

“If you must go, then go,” she says quietly, her eyes still on the statue. “But remember I tried to stop you. Your death will not be on my conscience.”

Desta is quiet after that, and for a moment Elayne thinks she is reconsidering her plan. But then she turns, and without another word leaves Elayne alone in the temple.

Elayne stays in the temple for a long while that night, her head bowed before Galawain’s statue. She wonders, for the first time, if his decision to put Desta in her life was not a blessing, but a challenge.

If it is, it is one she has failed.

[anna-mator]

How to Draw a Toon - (In-Progress) Fandom: Warner Bros, Looney Tunes, Disney, Who Framed Roger Rabbit, Animaniacs, Rating: M Categories: M/M Relationships: (eventual) Bugs/Daffy Warnings: Language, moderate violence, cartoon violence, racism, Additional tags: friends to lovers, mystery, adventure

<< FIRST CHAPTER | 

When the Warner’s alarm went off, it was always a race between the two brothers to see who’d turn it off first. If Yakko got lucky, he’d be the one to turn it off first. Otherwise, Wakko would simply use his trusty mallet. This morning, Yakko was able to jolt awake just in time to stop Wakko’s mallet from hammering down onto the alarm. He tossed it aside and then hit the snooze button.

Yakko sat up slowly, disturbing his younger siblings only slightly. Being between the two, he managed to worm his way out of their sleepy grasps and slide off of the bed. He smiled to himself, deciding to let them sleep in just a little longer.

After his morning-care routine, Yakko headed downstairs. Unsurprisingly, Bugs was already up and hovering over the stove. Knowing how jumpy Bugs was, Yakko announced himself. “Mornin’ Bugs...” he chimed.

Bugs turned around and gave Yakko a nod. “Good morning. You get your sibs up yet?” He asked.

“Eehh… I thought I’d let ‘em sleep in.” Yakko told him before moving to make himself a bowl of cereal.

“You spoil ‘em more than I do.” Bugs chuckled, turning back to the hot meal on the stove.

“I’m their big brother. I’m allowed.” Yakko said it before he could really stop it.

The two went deadly silent. It had been a year since he had taken them in, and Bugs still had no idea where he stood. Was he simply an acting mentor? Was he some kind of parental guardian? No one who was involved really knew. At some point in Bugs’ life, he remembered having decided against having kids. And yet, he took in the three without any hesitation.

Once Yakko made his cereal, he carried it over and sat down on a barstool chair under the kitchen island. He ate and watched Bugs prepare breakfast for the rest of them. Finally, Bugs broke the silence.

“Daffy is stayin’ wit’ us.” He mentioned.

Yakko swallowed, “Oh really? Why here? Couldn’t find himself a private island off the coast of Malibu?” He asked.

“Dat, I’m sure.” Bugs chuckled, “Also, I thought it’d be easier for us to work on school stuff. Dat and I figured it’d be nice to have some help around the house.”

“Oh right, your school.” Yakko remembered, “You sure you really want to hire Daffy as a teacher?” He asked.

“Why is everyone askin’ me dat?” Bugs felt slightly annoyed, “I brought Daffy on because he’s my friend. He’s great with kids and he’s been in this business for as long as I have. Longer, if you can believe it.” He defended.

Yakko wasn’t entirely convinced, still he nodded. “If you say so.” He said.

“You three were invited to the ribbon cuttin’ ceremony yesterday, by the way.” Bugs mentioned, shooting a glare at Yakko.

“Ooh… was that yesterday?” Yakko asked, pushing away his now empty cereal bowl. “Well, you know how it is sometimes. We all get so carried away on set and we end up home later than usual.”

“Uh-huh.” Bugs said, not quite sure he believed Yakko, “Ya mind waking up your kin? This is almost ready.” He said.

“I’m on it.” Yakko said, hopping down from his chair and making his way back upstairs.

When Yakko reached their bedroom, he saw Dot fully ready to go. Wakko, however, was still sound asleep and had taken over as much as he could of the California king-sized bed. After a solid few minutes of Yakko working to peel his sibling off of the bed, Wakko was up and able to start his routine.

Once they were all ready, the three came downstairs to see the kitchen table full of food. Dot eagerly sat down in a seat Bugs pulled out for her. Wakko raced to his seat at the table and began to pile his plate with the assortments of food. Once Yakko and Bugs sat down, Bugs turned to Wakko and Dot.

“I wanted to let you both know I invited Daffy to stay wit’ us.” Bugs told them, taking a bite of his breakfast.

At that, the two of them looked super pleased. “Hooray!” Wakko cheered before chowing down.

“That’s great! And for how long?” Dot asked curiously.

After hearing that, it only just occurred to Bugs that he had absolutely no long-term ideas concerning Daffy. Was he going to help him hunt for another estate? Daffy made it clear last night that the rent was ‘so damn high’, Bugs wasn’t sure Daffy was looking for a permanent stay. If he wanted to continue being a teacher, it was clear he would have to come up with some kind of living arrangement. While he was thinking along those lines, why did Daffy even agree to a teacher’s salary? Surely after all their royalty checks, he didn’t exactly need the extra income. Daffy’s motives were obviously very unclear to Bugs.

Bugs swallowed his food, “Eeehh… We’ll see.” He said carefully.

As if on cue, the three siblings caught sight of Daffy floating mid-air down the hallway, past the living room and into the closest seat at the kitchen table. Bugs had watched him and couldn’t help but chuckle to himself. He took the act as a high compliment in regards to his cooking.

Daffy gave a smile and a small sigh when he opened his eyes to the plethora of food at his disposal. Immediately, he began to eat. “Oh man, I could get used to this.” Daffy said more to himself than anyone.

After a moment, Bugs’ cleared his throat slightly. “Eh, Daff… I was hopin’ to go over some stuff about the school today.” He said.

“Today? No can do.” Daffy said, pulling out a cellphone from behind his back, “I have about five different interviews, three of them are public appearances and I have just about fifteen different emails asking for article interviews.” He said.

Bugs’ felt his ear twitch in annoyance. “Didn’t you just fly in yesterday?” He asked.

“What does that have to do with anything? I’m Daffy Duck. Soon to be Professor Daffy Duck!”

“Not if I decide I don’t like what you’re gonna be teachin’ at my school.”

Watching the two banter was like watching a tennis match for the siblings. Especially considering the two were at separate ends of the kitchen table.

Daffy glared right back at Bugs with no fear. “Then why don’t you come up with whatever I’ll be teaching, huh?” He asked.

“Daff, I’m the principal of the only school in Toon Town. There’s no official district to tell us what we should be teachin’. I jus’ wanna make sure we’ll be doin’ this right.” Bugs told him. After a moment, he realized Daffy wasn’t going to budge so Bugs rolled his eyes. “Fine. How’s about this? You go an’ make your way around L.A., do all your lil interviews, and once you get back ‘ere we go over school stuff... If not tonight, then tomorrow... Capiche?”

“Fine.” Daffy said simply, though it didn’t seem like he was too happy about it.

Once the two were done arguing, Yakko decided to speak up. “Well, we better get goin’...”

The siblings took that as a cue to stand up from their places, with Wakko being the last as he shoveled in the rest of his food as quickly as he could. Daffy watched curiously when Bugs stood up and walked to the kitchen, pulling out three paper bags from the fridge. “Y’all have your studio passes?” He asked.

“I have the studio passes, this time.” Yakko said, presenting the three lanyards for Bugs to see. “Cuz we all know what happened to Wakko’s last week.”

“I got hungry…” Wakko said with a small pout.

“When are you not hungry, Wakko?” Dot asked, to which Wakko only answered with a giggle.

Bugs began to hand over their premade lunches when they were at the door, “Remember, you run into any problems on set you call me… alright?” He asked. Bugs was satisfied when he saw them nod in agreement.

“Eehhh… could you venmo a couple bucks for the Uber?” Yakko asked.

“Your account should have a hundred smackaroons already…” Bugs said, looking suspiciously at Yakko.

“What can I say? I leave ‘em great tips.” Yakko said with a smile.

“...You’re on dish duty when you get home, Yakko.” Bugs said, pulling out his phone.

Yakko rolled his eyes, took the three lunches Bugs had provided and walked through the door. Dot hugged Bugs before she turned away, “Bye, Bugs!” She chirped.

Bugs gave her a wave and looked on as Wakko gave his own wave, “See ya, Dad!” And saw a mixture of amusement and horror spread across his black and white face.

The word felt like something had hit Bugs’ chest and knocked the air out of him. As if to soften this blow, Bugs immediately returned with a rushed sounding, “GoodbyeWakko!!” and slammed the door shut.

When the three got in their designated car, Wakko looked at Yakko. “Did I mess up?” He asked, with a small blush on his white cheeks.

Yakko sighed slightly, “No kiddo, you didn’t mess up. I’m sure Bugs is taking it in stride.” He said. “It’d probably be best to try and not to say it again until he gives the okay though, alright?”

In the house, Bugs had hoped Daffy hadn’t heard the exchange. He had hoped he wouldn’t read into the deep blush that had bloomed across his fluffy cheeks. But as soon as Bugs looked up and down the hall, he saw a smug look plastered on Daffy’s face.

Bugs almost wanted to run away, but he couldn’t. Instead he sat up and walked over to Daffy. “Why are you givin’ me dat look?” He asked.

“So much for the biggest Bachelor of Toon Town. You realize once the paparazzi get in on this, you’re rep is gonna take a whole ‘nother turn.” Daffy said.

“Unlike you, I don’t care what anyone else thinks of me or what I do with my life.” Bugs snapped.

“If you say so.” Daffy said, his smug look never going away, “Personally, I think fatherhood suits you.” He told Bugs. “And who knows what could happen if this household had a more womanly touch?”

After hearing that, Bugs knew what Daffy was trying to say. He shook his head, “Oh I see, you like to think Lola suits me… Cuz you and nearly half of da world thinks she and I were made for each other.” He said.

“Bugs… She was literally created for you.” Daffy said.

“No! She was a Toon created for one movie in the nineties, to be cast in the role of my love interest. Nothin’ more.” Bugs corrected. Do you know what that does to a Toon’s psyche? He nearly asked, but kept it to himself.

“But you two were together, eventually. And I distinctly remember that the only reason you two broke it off was because you told me you didn’t want kids, and she did.” Daffy pointed out.

Bugs felt his cheeks ignite once more, “Believe you me, dat wasn’t the only reason.” He said.

Daffy hovered over Bugs as he began to clear up the kitchen table. “Oh really? Pray tell, what else was there? Did she snore? Was she draining your wallet? Did she have an annoying laugh? Did she cheat on ya?” He interrogated.

“What’s it to ya, Duck?” Bugs asked, continuing to ignore his friend’s line of questioning.

“Look, any Toon with half a brain would give their left foot to have a perfectly drawn counterpart like that. To get a fraction of what every iconic Toon couple has.” Daffy told Bugs, “Like Donald and Daisy, like Popeye and Olive Oyl, like Spiderman and whatever her name is.”

“Mary-Jane…” Bugs finished for him.

“That’s what I said.” Daffy said immediately. Bugs rolled his eyes and carried a stack of empty dishes to the kitchen sink.

Years before Daffy had moved to his private island, he remembered Bugs and Lola being the hottest couple in Toon Town. The two were featured on tabloids and TV shows, and their joint merchandise sold like crazy. They had been happy and nearly inseparable. Now, Daffy couldn’t even find a single picture of Lola inside Bugs’ house.

“What happened to you two?” Daffy asked.

“Don’t you have interviews to get to?” Bugs asked loudly as he turned on the faucet and began to rinse off his dishes. “I thought your day was soo busy!”

Daffy looked offended, “You don’t wanna tell your best friend about your previous relationship when he asks, then fine!” He exclaimed.

Bugs stopped what he was doing and shut off the sink immediately. “You wanna pull that card, eh?” He asked dangerously. “Last time I checked, best friends didn’t leave one anoda high and dry in a mansion off the coast of Central America!” He shouted back.

“Hey! Communication is a two-way street, bub! You coulda called or visited me any time!”

“Yeah sure Daff, lemme just hop on my private jet to my private yacht and snorkel my way to your front door when I need you most.” Bugs felt and swallowed a small lump that formed in his throat after saying that.

“Why would you swim to shore when I have a perfectly good runway for the private jet?” Daffy asked, more confused than anything.

“Missin’ the point, as usual.” Bugs said, disappointingly. He felt a headache coming on when he turned the water back on in the sink,  “Maybe invitin’ you to stay wasn’t such a good idea.”

“Are you throwing me out?” Daffy asked.

“I jus’ might, if you don’t leave for those interviews soon.” Bugs said, throwing Daffy a harsh glare over his shoulder.

Daffy turned away and threw his arms into the air. “Fine! I’ll go, I’ll go…” He said with a low grumble.

Minutes later, without another word between them, Daffy was in the backseat of a hired car and driving away from Bugs’ house. He pulled out his phone and rang up his agent. It was clear to Daffy that he had missed out on a lot of Bugs’ life. He was going to make it his mission to bring himself up to speed. As soon as he heard the other line pick up Daffy didn’t hesitate, “Cancel Conan, I’m making dinner plans with a certain pig.” He said.

“Are you sure, sir? Conan is a big gig. He’s really curious about Bugs’ school.” His agent asked.

“Then tell ‘im to get Bugs on his damn show.” Daffy said lamely before hanging up.

Once that was cleared up he dialed another number, “H- h- ah- hello?” The other end asked.

“Porky! My ol’ pal! I’m sure you’ve heard about it already, but I’m in town--”

“N- n- nuh- uh, no.” Porky stammered.

“--and I thought we’d play a little bit of catch-up! Whaddya say?” Daffy asked.

“W- w- well I’m uh- I’m a lil busy…” The other Toon started to say.

“Nonsense! Let’s do tonight at seven. I’ll send you the address.” Daffy said and then quickly hung up.

Hours later, Daffy walked up to the restaurant to claim his reservation for two. The place was dark, seemingly only lit by fairy lights, therefore making it a little difficult to see for most. Luckily, Toons were created to see in low light situations. Once he had reached his tall wooden booth, Daffy began to order. Not too long after, he saw Porky Pig approach his table and sit down.

“Okay Porky, I’m gonna need a rundown of every major life event I’ve missed in Bugs’ life since I’ve been gone.” Daffy said, without exchanging any sort of pleasantries.

Porky sat across from Daffy with a blank stare. “You- you uh think I’m his chronicler? He- he- his secretary? Why w- why do you wanna know this all of a sudden?” He asked.

“I’m staying with him. And since I’ve been with him I’ve learned that he’s been watching the Warners, started a Toon school, cut out Lola from his life and looks terrible after all of that. You and I are his only friends in this life—“

“Ab ab- We’re definitely not his only friends.” Porky tried to interject.

“—and if we don’t find out what’s eating him up inside soon, it could be too late!” Daffy proclaimed dramatically.

“D- d- does he owe you something?” Porky asked curiously.

“Porky, I’m trying to do something decent for my best friend: find out the stressors in his life and stop them.” Daffy said, crossing his arms.

“I d- don’t understand why you don’t just ask him.”

“We had an argument.” Daffy mentioned, “Plus, you know how secretive Bugs can get.”

Porky sighed, realizing he wasn’t going to get out of this no matter what. He had learned by now that when either Bugs or Daffy had their mind on something, they would see it through.

“Listen… all I- all I know is that shortly after The Looney Tunes Show was cancelled, Lola and Bugs broke up.” Porky said.

“But how? They were the jewels of Toon Town! They were inseparable. They did all sorts of mushy couple stuff. Even before the show, Bugs helped get her athletic career going. And Lola went to every sleazy bar and fancy casino Bugs could gig at when he was trying to get into stand up during the late 90s. You remember that, right?” Daffy asked.

The phrase that had haunted Porky for years finally slipped out, “S- she changed. That’s what he said, anyway.” He said. He had heard it from the drunken lips of Bugs Bunny himself. To this day, he didn’t know exactly what it meant, but the way he said it still unnerved him.

Daffy sat in silence for a long time. “Changed… what? How? When?” He asked, feeling even more confused than ever.

Porky shook his head. “I d- I d- I don’t know. My best guess has been that they just grew ah, grew apart.” He said.

Daffy wasn’t fully convinced. “There’s gotta be more to it. You sure he didn’t tell you anything else?”

“No.” He said quickly, “Bu- bu- but I will say. Ever since he’s had this idea for a Toon school, he’s been becoming more paranoid and stressed.” Porky pointed out. Immediately, Daffy thought back to last night where Bugs nearly caved his skull in with a bat. “And- and I don’t think raising those rambunctious kids on his own is doing much good. So, if you can, try to stay on his goo- goo- uh, good side and help him out.”

Daffy gave a small huff in Porky’s direction. “Yeah okay…”

Back at Bugs’ place, he had spent all day working from home. Brainstorming different classes, sending follow up emails to potential teachers and over all trying to think about his school. He knew that a lot of people, especially Toons, were expecting a lot from him. So he wanted to make sure things were coming together.

Later on, he received a text from Porky Pig that read, “Your feathery guest came to talk to me. It seems like he has good intentions, but I never know when it comes to him.”

Bugs rolled his eyes and replied back, “I’ll take care of it. Thanks for letting me know.”

After all of that, Bugs had found himself spending quite some time sitting on the couch staring at his cellphone. Every twenty minutes or so he’d remember the number was sitting undialed on his keypad. And every time he thought about calling it, he’d circle the room. After a long while, he finally took in a deep breath and dialed the number.

“Allison… I think I’m ready.” Bugs said when he heard the line being answered.

There was a pause, “... For…?” She questioned.

“Operation, Dad.”

“Oh!! Oh I’ll get the paperwork to you straight away Mr. Bunny! I’ll also get another interview appointment for you set up soon, y’know, adoption agency stuff. I’m sure they’ll be properly in your custody in no time! Well... as soon as everything is signed and approved, anyway. I’m so happy for you all!” Allison chimed.

“About the paperwork, I’d like to make a special request…” Bugs said.

Over the course of the next hour or so, Bugs and Allison spoke about what was next in the process in terms of adopting the Warners. Technically, in human years, they were full-fledged adults and would have been well out of the system. The three were created in 1991, after all. But there were a couple of rules in place for Toons which simply states that because of their child-like nature, they were still recognized as children. So Bugs still had to go through the same process as though he were adopting children. Even if that wasn’t the case, Bugs would most certainly find the means to adopt them.

Once Bugs hung up, he felt better about things. This meant they all still had time to talk things over. Bugs still wasn’t entirely sure about each of their feelings on the subject matter, but he was even more determined to find out now more than ever. Bugs couldn’t help but think back to when Wakko had called him ‘Dad’ earlier. So much pride and happiness swelled in Bugs’ chest, he began to softly cry. He loved them so much, he wasn’t sure what to do with himself if they didn’t want this.

To keep himself from thinking about things too hard, he wiped away his tears and decided to start making dinner. Cooking was a source of comfort to Bugs. It helped him keep his hands and mind busy. By now, Bugs had learned to cook meals for six or more, to accommodate for Wakko’s monstrous appetite. In truth, Toons had a larger stomach than the average human, a fact that was commonly exploited. For some reason or another, Wakko’s stomach and appetite was two times that size.

Bugs’ ears perked at the sound of the front door opening. He peaked around the corner with a smile, only to have it melt into a frown when he saw Daffy walk through the door. He had returned to his cooking by the time Daffy made his way into the kitchen. The two sat in a long silence, Daffy watching Bugs’ every move.

Finally, Bugs broke the silence, “You eat?” He asked.

“Yes, I had dinner with a friend.” Daffy said.

“You feel like sayin’ anythin’ to me?” Bugs asked.

Again, there was a long and agonizing silence between them. Bugs couldn’t help but smile slightly. He knew it was incredibly hard for Daffy to apologize. To admit wrongdoing would be admitting failure, and failure was less-than perfect, which was the opposite of what Daffy strived for.

“I was jus’—“ He started. Daffy immediately stopped that line when he saw Bugs’ ear twitch. “I want to help.” He tried.

“Well then, you can start by apologizin’ for pryin’.” Bugs said.

Daffy groaned out like he was in physical pain, “Auugghhh! Alright! I’m sorry.” He admitted. “I just feel like I missed so much.” He said, just before he noticed Bugs’ tail wiggle slightly. Daffy wondered since when did he find that kind of adorable? He tried not to let his eyes linger there for long; instead, focusing up on Bugs’ gloved hands while he prepared his food.

“Well if you really feel dat way, you can always just talk to me.” Bugs said simply.

“You’ve always been so closed off! And stand-offish! And you wouldn’t tell me that one thing.” Daffy huffed, crossing his arms.

“Daff, I opened my home to you. I answered most of your questions and I’ve been very patient. As far as things concernin’ Lola, all I’m asking is dat you leave it alone. You don’t wanna go down this rabbit hole.” Bugs warned.

Hearing him say that only made Daffy more insanely curious. Still, he filed away these feelings for later. “Fine.” Daffy said with a small pout.

Bugs looked over at Daffy with a kind smile, appreciating the fact that he was respecting this boundary. Something that, if had been brought up in the past, would have been trampled all over. “Y’know, I have a coupla questions myself.” Bugs admitted.

“Oh?” Daffy asked.

“Yeah. Like, why’d you wanna come back to teach at a school? It can’t be for da money.” Bugs said.

“You know what I’m about, Bugsy.” Daffy told him, leaning on the kitchen island, “I want fame, recognition and fortune. Owning a legacy comes with that. I want to be remembered in history books. Being apart of the first Toon school? That’s history right there.”

“Well, I can’t argue with dat.” Bugs said with a shrug.

Soon, Daffy took the barstool and they continued to talk. And just like that, it seemed like they were right where they had left off all those years ago. Daffy wasn’t sure if it was the content of their conversations, or if that was just the effect Bugs had on others. He was always such a smooth-talker and it always felt like he had control of the conversation. Daffy interjected when he could (it was in both their nature to be the center of attention, after all) and most importantly they shared stories.

From what Daffy understood, the Warners brought a lot of joy and excitement in his life. Even if it had only been a little over a year. Ultimately, Daffy was proud of Bugs. “So when are you gonna adopt ‘em?” Daffy asked.

Hearing that, Bugs nearly dropped a dish he was pulling out of the oven. Luckily he had been close enough to the kitchen island that the dish simply landed on it a little harder than if he’d normally place it down.  “Eeh.. well, I uh. I talked to the adoption agency today, actually. There just needs to be a few more interviews and some paperwork.” He said.

“Of course. Wouldn’t wanna rush into somethin’ like this.” Daffy said.

“I… still don’t know if I’m ready, Daff.” Bugs admitted, looking down at his casserole. “I don’t know if dat’s really what they want.”

“Are you kiddin’ me?” Daffy exclaimed, “All you’re missing are family portraits to put in your wallet. You’re perfect dad material. If they can’t see that, it’s their loss.”

“Who’s loss?” A nasally voice asked.

Bugs and Daffy turned simultaneously and saw the Warners peeking around the corner by height. Wakko sniffed the air and gave a small sigh. “It smells so good.” He commented.

Internally, Bugs was screaming. He wasn’t sure just how much the Warners had heard of their conversation until Dot spoke. “So when are we getting those family portraits?” She asked with a grin.

“I guess we could all use some new headshots.” Yakko joked with her.

Bugs took in a deep breath, “They’re sendin’ Allison over for anoda coupla home interviews.” He announced.

“Oh won’t that be nice? I was starting to miss her.” Dot chimed. “Can you believe it took them ten interviewers before they found her?” She asked Daffy.

“She’s put up with a lot of our shenanigans.” Wakko said.

“Eehh… What are we gonna tell ‘er about the duck?” Yakko asked, pointing his thumb in Daffy’s direction. Daffy looked a little annoyed, but didn’t say a word.

“Oh! What if we tell ‘er he’s our second cousin twice removed?” Wakko proposed.

“We ain’t lyin’.” Bugs said quickly, “He’s here temporarily, and that’s what we tell ‘em.” He said.

Daffy shrugged and got up to start walking out of the room. “Well it’s obvious you’ve got some things to talk about. I’ll see myself out.”

With that, the four began to set the table with what Bugs had cooked for them. Once the table was set and food was served, Bugs spoke up. “About the adoption… I don’t need answers from you guys yet. The process is long to begin with. Just… think about things for me, alright?” He asked.

“You got it, Bugs.” Yakko said with a smile and a small wink.

After hearing that, Bugs felt like he was on top of the world. Things were falling into place more smoothly than he could have ever imagined.

----

Huzzah!! This chapter is more relationship establishing stuff. Overall, I’m satisfied with it. Hope y’all enjoyed it! 

[captain-aralias]

Hi, 1,7 and 22 from the fic asks please 💕💕💕

hooray! asks. these are some of the best ones too and it’s 11pm at night... basically, if you want to ask these questions again at the weekend, i will probably answer them better.

1. Describe your comfort zone—a typical you-fic.

fake relationship, possibly outside of the main ship (that penny/baz prompt today has my name on it. i almost wrote this exact fake relationship into ‘keep calm’ to get the two of them to the cottage, but i removed it because i JUST NEEDED TO GET TO THE PLOT). 

in ‘carry on’, my comfort zone is - something about vampires and how sad baz feels about being a vampire, it’ll be about 10k, and will alternate between only the two main characters. at some point someone will point out that baz is rich and maybe he should feel bad about that too. maybe our heroes will have sex. 

i’ve said before that i find writing smut hard. i also find it easy, despite that being a contradiction, because you know what the fic is about - it gives it an easy, safe arc, a beginning and an end. so that is helpful - the problem is having to write the actual shagging. 

17. Share a snippet from one of your favorite pieces of prose you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.

i’m not a great prose stylist - i’m a writer of dialogue/i always wanted to be a playwright. i’m also pretty good at picking up an mimicking stylistic quirks. so you’ll see what i mean when i say, ‘carry on’ really plays to my strengths. 

a few years earlier, i had a great time writing first-person fics in ‘blake’s 7′ fandom where there were basically none. it seemed incredibly frightening before i started (and i still never wrote blake first person, too scary), but actually i loved it. 

if you like the things i write for baz, now, a lot of it is probably because i wrote this kind of thing for avon first:  

I realised belatedly that Blake had asked this because the hand I'd left on the back of the sofa hadn't stayed where I'd left it. It had crept upwards, and twisted itself into Blake's hair. I must have been toying with his curls. He was right – I must be very drunk. More than I realised. I have no idea how long my hand had been there. I began to draw it back, but Blake seemed to follow it, though I were tugging him towards me, rather than releasing him. By the time my hand had returned to my lap, Blake was most of the way onto my side of the sofa. I opened my mouth to protest, and found myself pushed back by Blake's body as he kissed me. Blake kissed me. Blake kissed me.

I have no idea why he thought this would be welcome, or even whether he’d thought that far ahead. Until that point I had no idea he was attracted to me, or even that he was attracted to men. I am not attracted to men, and I'm certainly not attracted to Blake. He— That is— Well, I can see why some people – some women – might be attracted to him, but it's an objective observation. I can see why women might be attracted to me, and I'm not attracted to myself. Most of the time I don't even like myself. Most of the time I don't like Blake. I certainly don't like him – it's nothing personal. No, it is personal – the regular dislike is, the dislike formed around the fact that a dangerous maniac who endangers my life on a constant basis – but my disinterest in him sexually is not personal. I'd just never thought of him in that light before. Why would I?

So I have no idea why I kissed him back, clutching at his hair with the hands I'd only just managed to remove from his curls earlier.

- Roj Blake and Other Phobias (2015)

a lot of what i wrote for avon is unreliable narrator but very VERY obviously unreliable, so the audience is very in on the joke that he’s kidding himself. for thousands of words. (in this, he is not like baz, who at least knows himself.) this was really good fun, and i think it’s fun to read. i think this kiss is quite sexy (i cut it before we got to that part, but it is) and i also like... even though it’s a cheap device... that i played on quite a famous line for this pairing - have you betrayed me? have you betrayed me? both obviously at the end of the first paragraph, but at other points throughout the bit i quoted where avon tries to clean up after himself even inside his own head by (here) emphasising different bits of the sentence. or correcting himself to make sure he is completely understood... 

and obviously he is completely lying.

22. Choose a passage from one of your earlier fics and edit it into your current writing style. 

this is my favourite question from the meme. i don’t think i’ll do it justice. 

i thought i’d go really early - because all the Blake stuff is still pretty much as i would write it (if not better). 

this is one of the last Harry Potter fics i ever wrote: Enslaving Fireflies (2005). 

May the first, 1972. “I’m not having any fun,” Peter said for the fifth time, lunging dangerously at another firefly that hovered five feet about his head and almost falling to his death. “Go inside then,” Sirius pointed out mercilessly, as he had done every time Peter had suggested that standing on a roof in the early hours of the morning trying to catch glowing insects was not quite as thrilling as James had made it seem inside the common room an hour ago. Peter scowled in his general direction, but stayed where he was. Sirius smirked and Remus rolled his eyes: after almost a year he, at least, had learnt that it was unwise to let Sirius know he’d won, even if Sirius already suspected as much. There was five minutes of silence and then Peter spoke again. “How many of these things do we need to catch?” “A hundred and fifty,” James informed him for the third time. “Thirty for will, twenty-five for you, fifteen for go, twenty for out, thirty-five for with and fifteen for me and ten for a question mark.” Peter considered this. “And how many do we have?” Remus lifted up the large glass jar that they had ‘borrowed’ from the kitchen that morning and which now held the product of the last hour���s work. “Four,” he said, seriously, “and I think this one’s dead, so that’s three.” “Only another forty-nine hours to go,” James said happily waving his net enthusiastically in the general direction of some more fireflies, “which means, minus the time we have to be in lessons, we should just be in time for her birthday.” Remus put down the jar and set to work again. Another five minutes passed and then Peter said, “I’m really, really not having any fun.”

-- 

i dont know if everyone else also had this phase, but at this time (and i was in university by this time - first year, but still) i had this crazy perception about how paragraphing worked. informed, admittedly, by reading books where this does happen. 

anyway - the first thing i would do to this would be to put line breaks in between the dialogue. 

i chose potter because i thought it would be fun to edit it into first person, given the above/it’s connection with ‘Carry On’... i don’t know if that’s the case, though. er...

1st May 1972 REMUS

We’ve only been at Hogwarts a few months, but I’ve already learned a lot. Like what a bezor is. How to get to the Shrieking Shack without waking up any of my roommates. And that if James Potter says something will be ‘fun’, you should be prepared for both pain and suffering.

“I’m not having any fun,” Peter says for the fifth time as he lunges for another firefly. It’s not the first time that he’s said this and it probably won’t be the last. 

“Go inside then,” Sirius says (also not for the first time). 

When Peter doesn’t, Sirius grins me - because of course, he knew Peter wouldn’t leave. But another thing I’ve learned is not to tell Sirius he’s right, even though - of course - he already knows he is. The gloating can last for hours.

etc

[tessatechaitea]

Justice Society of America #7 (1993)

The fantasy: old white men are the heroes. The reality: old white men are the villains.

A Facebook memory from my friend Doom Bunny in 2012 came up today that made me cry. Not sobbing or anything! It just made me feel loved and noticed and, sure, proud of my past self. I'm not good at earnestness so please don't mock me or I'll retreat back into the safety of cynicism and sarcasm!

Doom Bunny might have taken the advice a bit too far.

One of the defining moments in my life that helped shape me into a better, more empathetic person was when I killed a massive wolf spider that had gotten into my room and was headed for my gerbil's cage. I caught it in a huge jar to take outside. The spider was so massive you could hear its fangs clink on the side of the jar. I went to go release it outside and was struck by a sudden terror that it would come back. Not the kind of terror that involves life and death decisions. More like the kind of terror that is just a rush of creepiness and discomfort at the prospect of the spider coming back and crawling on my while I slept. So, you know, not terror. But I treated the uncomfortable feeling like terror and decided I should probably kill the spider. Now, if it had been a small spider, I, like millions of people every day, would have probably crushed it without a thought and gone on with my day. But this spider was massive, probably the size of my palm. It wouldn't be a simple swat and done procedure. I tried filling the jar with some kind of cleaner in the hopes of poisoning it but that didn't work. So then I took a stick or something and began smashing it. It didn't die easily. It struggled and it put up a fight and it took multiple attempts to really smash it while in the jar. And even before I had delivered the killing blow, I knew I had made a terrible mistake. This spider didn't deserve this death. This wasn't a struggle to live. This wasn't part of nature. This spider was struggling against the pettiness of one human individual. The spider's only offense: giving me gooseflesh. But once I'd maimed the spider, I had to finish the onerous job. I cried afterward. I sobbed. I mourned this wretched beast. And maybe that's why Doom Bunny's memory made me cry. But I didn't just kill the spider that day. I killed a part of me. Luckily, it was a part of me that was useless and selfish and a thing I was well rid of. Maybe, as a rational justification to make a bleak act I participated in seem more uplifting, I can take solace in the idea that the spider, in death, was able to rise above its natural station. It was the Jesus Christ of spiders, dying so that so many more spiders could live. Who knows how many hundreds or thousands of spiders survived because of this one? And not only that, it was this sentiment (and seeing a documentary on Japanese "fishing" of dolphins) which turned me into a vegetarian. So the spider not only saved many spiders but many other (arguably higher-tier! Is that bad to suggest?!) creatures. Now, I'm not a vegetarian anymore. I was for about ten years and then got, well, a bit lazy and maybe a little less passionate. I got older and dumber. But I'm not what you'd call a meat-eater! I prefer lentils over steak (which is an easy comment to make because I can't even remember the last time I ate steak. I never really cared for it before I went veggie. The main reason I liked steak as a kid was the steak fries soaked in a little bit of steak juice (you know, blood?)). When I eat meat now, it's usually chicken or turkey. Not great, I know. I probably need to get out there and murder a turkey so I can be reminded how fucking terrible it is to kill something with your own hands. But that's part of it, you know? I'm not against eating meat. But we're going about it all wrong. It's too easy and too harmful. We should probably develop a system where people can only buy live animals and must do the killing and butchering themselves. Of course then only sadists will have the option of a delicious chorizo omelette at breakfast! The point is, yeah, I still eat meat. But I also don't rationalize my eating of it! I'm wrong in doing so. It's better for the world if humans, who have a choice in the matter being sentient and rational beings, would choose to stop. I try not to eat it much but that's just a little bit of a little thing and it doesn't make me "less wrong." I'm still just wrong. And I'm tired. And I'm old enough to hope the younger generations do better while I just get the fuck out of the way. Who are all these old people fighting change?! Why do they need to get so worked up about a world they're not going to be part of for much longer?! Let it go already! Especially old people with loads of money. I don't get how they still need to be angry about everything! You're set, you dolt! If you don't want to participate, go live in your vacation house and don't participate. But certainly don't actively try to hamper change! Christ, you're just obstinate dumb ass fools! Did I rant enough against old rich guys to distract from the fact that I had some turkey tacos for lunch? I hope so! Anyway, I guess the rant about old people hurting the world is a good enough segue back into this comic book about old people hurting the world. Not that the JSA is actively hurting the world! But their old man foes certainly are! Plus, I understand if you're old and powerful and rich and immortal, how you'd continue to fight change. But then again, if you're immortal and you've seen how you can never fight change, generation after generation, perhaps by continuing to fight against change, you're just showing how stupid you are? The JSA might not be actively hurting the world but it's still troubling that they think they need to be an active part of it. Just retire already and let the young heroes take over! Maybe, as Alan and Jay wanted at the beginning, stay accessible as mentors. But don't be dicks trying to push your old timey beliefs onto the young heroes' new and modern attitudes! Especially the ones that are sex positive and enjoy showing a lot of skin in their choice of costumes. Hooray for change!

Enough with being earnest! Let's now pretend her dad's advice was sexual in nature!

Jesse wanders into a part of the island that's off limits and after being attacked by guards trying to detain her for trespassing, she decides she now has a right to trespass. That's how law works, right? If I'm falsely accused of murder, I get to do one free murder! Ted Grant has been taken into custody by the Bahdnesian government because he interrupted a boxing match and beat the crap out of one of the fighters. Just because somebody is in a ring boxing doesn't mean anybody can enter the ring and start punching them. That's assault and I'm all for Ted Grant being arrested. Asshole thinks he can do whatever he wants just because he thinks of himself as a hero. Well, no more, old white man! There are consequences to your actions now!

The Atom doesn't think it's wrong to interfere in another country's arrest of a foreign national assaulting one of their own. No, what would be wrong is exposing the Justice Society of America's plans to infiltrate and spy on this nation.

The Atom rushes off to tell Alan and Jay about Ted being kidnapped. They heard Ted was injured and taken off for treatment which is a lie. Al tells them the truth but tries to make it sound like it was unjust. "Ted walloped some creep in the boxing ring and the guards dragged him away." Yeah. Of course they did! Ted wasn't supposed to be in the ring! IT WAS FUCKING ASSAULT! By the end, when we learn that the nation's king or manager or president, St. Germaine, is some villainous creep, all of the Justice Society's actions will be justified. But I want to point out that they have no justification for anything but observing right now! It's like that time in Star Trek: The Next Generation when one of the Captains of a Federation starship begins blowing up Cardassian science stations and supply vessels. They might have been up to no good but there was no proof! Picard does the right thing, in the end, by arresting the captain. Sure, the asshole captain was almost certainly right about the Cardassians being up to no good. But there was no proof! You can't just blow Cardassians up or disappear people from the streets of Portland simply because you suspect them of being up to no good. Fucking assholes. Jesse Quick runs into Doctor Mid-Nite who has found the Bahdnesians and a whole lot of other islanders as well. They're locked in cages underground because they're too sick or infirm to work in the tourist trap topside. So I guess the Justice Society of America has a right to start tearing this nation down. I guess. They're just lucky their instincts were so dead on or else Ted Grant's temper would have started an international incident with a happy-go-lucky nation. Doctor Mid-Nite has a plan to free the people from their cages.

It's not like she can, you know, run at super speed to do the same thing that distracting them with her tits did.

If The Flash had run into Doctor Mid-Nite, would the plan have been for Jay to strut out from the dark with his balls hanging out? Although it was a terrible and unnecessary plan, it might be one of my favorite bits because now I know Liberty Belle loved flashing her tits for justice. Johnny Thunder goes on a day trip to the place he first got his Thunderbolt genie. He discovers that after he left the island with their genie, the entire place fell apart. See, now that's appropriating a culture! Being white and selling burritos out of a burrito cart is just called having a job. The rest of the Justice Society just hangs out until they can hear from Doctor Mid-Nite. That doesn't happen until he interrupts St. Germain's speech about how great and beautiful and the best his island nation of Bahdnesia is.

Oh! The days when you could describe a terrible country treating its people in the worst ways imaginable and the first thing you would think of is Nazi Germany instead of present-day America!

St. Germain's plan was to create a sham utopia and then find a job as a consultant with other governments. After he was offered a job, he would blow a nuclear weapon in the volcano and destroy the place. But when the Justice Society appears, he throws his plan out the window and yells, in front of everybody at his press conference slash job interview, "I've got a bomb in the volcano and I'll blow up the entire island!" So I guess that's his reputation blown! Like the guy in The Dead Zone who uses the kid as a human shield and ruins his entire political career! Sort of. Anyway, that's a thing I just remembered that seemed somewhat like what just happened here, so it felt like a smart thing to add. During the tussle, Ted Grant knocks the detonator out of St. Germain's hands and it sets off the bomb. The volcano explodes but it doesn't destroy the island until the Justice Society can completely evacuate it. St. Germain just looks on and shouts, "My utopia!" That guy might need to get his head straight to decide what he really wants out of life. A utopia? A consulting job? Revenge on the Justice Society? In the end, Thunderbolt reveals that the only actual Bahdnesian left is Kiku, the young girl who has become Johnny Thunder's sidekick. So I guess that's the mystery solved that could have been solved two issues ago if Johnny had just thought to ask Thunderbolt one simple and direct question. Justice Society of America #7 Rating: B-. St. Germaine was yet another immortal guy who was once a Nazi. I think there's some legendary St. Germaine that's supposed to be immortal or something but I'm too hot and uncomfortable in my office to do any research about it right now. There's a similar character in Warren Ellis's Castlevania on Netflix. And, no, I don't want to discuss Warren Ellis. I don't actually want to disucss the Justice Society of America either! At least I only have three more issues to go!