#i was gonna say something about how he's wearing both him and lewis' numbers

[dellovestorant]

Never fails to serve

[sebscore]

hi ! I love your gen z driver series so much !!

i have a request that she and zhou show up to the padock in the same outfit unplanned

like i feel this would happen - they both fancy showing up in something so different and the other would be wearing the same thing !! <3 fashion icons think the same 😌

THE HELMET BET

pairings: zhou guanyu x driver!reader / f1 grid x driver!reader 

warnings: swearing. based on the 2022 grid. mention of sexism and racism. joke about doing an orgy.

author's note: idk if this is what you had in mind, but I had already written a small part of this fic and then your ask came in and I couldn't help myself. I love zhou so much, ugh thats my man fr. also, thank you for loving the series, it means a lot to me 💞

masterlist

• • • • • • •

''We're gonna get in trouble.'' Zhou said, shaking his head. 

Y/N frowned at his words. ''Why would we get in trouble? It's always super boring and our bet can at least spice it up a little.'' She reasoned, using a lot of hand gestures to show how serious she was. 

''You know those meetings are about our safety, right? We should take them serious.'' The Chinese driver didn't want to get in hot water with the stewards. 

''But this is a serious matter! We're putting an end to the debate,'' she retorted back, not seeing the harm in using the upcoming driver's briefing for their bet, ''lately, I've been seeing way too many people saying you've got better style than me and I've had enough of it.'' 

The female driver had seen the countless online discussions between fans regarding the most stylish driver on the grid, the winner usually switching between herself, Lewis and Zhou. In her opinion, Lewis had the best style, she didn't need to think twice about it. But it is important for her to know who his successor is, who is the number 2? 

To answer that question, she had come up with a brilliant idea: her and Zhou wear their best outfit to the next driver's briefing, not some team merchandising, and they get the other drivers to vote on which outfit is the best and therefore, which person has the best style. The person with the most votes gets to design a helmet for the loser and they have to wear it at the next racing weekend. 

''Okay, I'm in,'' Zhou admitted, shaking hands to commemorate the challenge, ''be prepared to lose, Y/N.'' 

''Don't worry about me, Guanyu.'' 

Y/N was confident in her win. The young woman knows she has style, her several brand deals with high-respected fashion houses being the proof of that. However, she knew not to underestimate her rookie friend, Zhou has had some killer outfits in the ongoing season. 

They had known each other for some years, but it was only this year that the pair had gotten close. Y/N broke the ice by complimenting one of his outfits at the start of the season and the rest was history. 

The outfit she had gone with was simple, but she looked good and she felt great in it. It was inspired by one of Michael Schumacher's paddock outfits (reference), knowing she would at least have Mick and Seb's vote with that one. 

Y/N got out of her car, ready to make her way to the F1 paddock and straight to the driver's briefing. In the corner of her eye she noticed Zhou's car pull up, his performance coach waving at her through the window. She reciprocated the action and decided to wait for him, thinking it would be nice for the two of them to enter together. She was curious as to what her friend would be wearing, secretly hoping he had fumbled the bag really hard. 

Her hopes came crashing down as Zhou got out of the car, observing the clothes he was wearing and noticing one clear detail. 

They were wearing the same outfit. 

Her eyes seemed ready to bulge out of her head, in complete disbelief. ''Are you fucking kidding me, Zhou?'' 

The Chinese man appeared to be much more amused by the situation, covering his laughter with his hand. ''You look very nice, Y/N.'' He giggled, greeting her with a hug and a kiss on the cheek. 

''It's turned into a ''who wears it better'' challenge, what the heck.'' She commented, eyeing him up and down before glancing at her own fit. 

Zhou chuckled. ''Well either way, I'm winning.'' A small smirk appeared on his face, still sure of his win over his friend. Y/N simply scoffed, grabbing her pass from her purse and walking to the entrance. Zhou and his coach followed her steps, still entertained by her annoyance. 

As soon as the paddock reporters noticed the sight of the two drivers, their cameras were whipped out from their bags and they began taking candid shots of the pair. Zhou and Y/N played along for the cameras, pointing at each other's outfits and pretending to look annoyed. 

Eventually they made it to the right room, already seeing most of the drivers waiting inside. Zhou went in and greeted the others, while Y/N waited outside, ready to lock the door as soon as everyone had arrived and was inside. 

Lando had been the last one to walk down the hallway. ''Hurry up, Norris!'' She exclaimed, her hand motioning for him to pick up the pace. 

''Why? I'm on time.'' He replied a bit agitated, it was a bit too early in the morning for him to be scolded by his friend. 

Y/N didn't respond to him, simply pushing him into the room and locking the door, making several drivers look up from where they were sitting or standing. 

''Y/N, what are you doing?'' Sebastian spoke up, curious as to what she was up to this time. 

The young woman urged Zhou to get up from his seat and to stand next to her. The man felt a bit embarrassed, but followed her orders. Y/N stood in the place where their director normally sat when he answered the drivers' questions or listened to their concerns. She placed both her hands on the desk, looking like a teacher that was about to scold her students.

''As we all know, Mr. Hamilton over there is widely accepted as the driver with the best style,'' she pointed at Lewis, who nervously smiled as the other drivers glanced at him, ''but that's not why we are gathered here today! We are gathered here today to decide who his successor is. Who is the most stylish person after Lewis? That's a question that we will settle once and for all, here, now, in this room.'' She finished her monologue. 

''Me and Mr. Guanyu found ourselves in a battle for the title of second most stylish driver of the grid, so I challenged him. We would wear our best outfits today and have our lovely colleagues vote for who had the best one. But as you all can see, me and Mr. Dior over here, are wearing the same exact fit.'' Y/N waved her hand between herself and Zhou. 

''So, instead of you deciding who is wearing the best outfit, you'll be voting for the person you think is wearing the outfit best.'' She concluded. 

The crowd had mixed reactions: some looked confused, some seemed entertained by what Y/N had told them and others appeared to not care. 

Kevin was the first one to speak, getting up from his seat and walking towards the door. ''Y/N, this is not the time to do this, we're here to talk about the race.'' He was about to turn the lock when her voice stopped him. 

''Magnussen, you're being a party pooper- do you want to be a party pooper?'' She looked at him sternly, trying to convince him to sit back down and go along with her antics. ''Don't pretend like you're not secretly enjoying this.'' The Haas driver rolled his eyes, but defeatedly put his arms up and went back to his seat. 

''Alright, we'll go around the room and each person says either my name or Zhou's.'' She explained further, moving in front of the desk. 

Checo's hand went up in the air. ''Can we also pass?'' He asked, looking at Y/N. 

''If you refuse to choose, we will consider it sexist and racist as I am a woman and Zhou's Asian.'' She answered him, garnering chuckles around the room and a nervous-looking Zhou who hoped people took it as a joke, since he didn't want to be making enemies as a rookie. 

Y/N clapped her hands together. ''Okay, we'll start with our party pooper, KMag! Me or Zhou?'' 

''Zhou, since he didn't yell at me and didn't call me a party pooper.'' He chose, making the female driver narrow her eyes at him. ''Alright, 1 for Zhou.'' 

The person sat next to Kevin was his teammate, Mick. ''Schumacher!'' He was about to speak, but the woman interrupted him. ''Before you choose, I took inspiration from one of your dad's outfits.'' Y/N tried influencing his decision. 

''I was gonna choose you anyway.'' He told her, making her jump up as her and Zhou had an equal score. ''Thank you, Mickie.'' She smiled brightly at him. 

''Valtteri?'' 

''I choose Zhou, I'm loyal to my teammate.'' He answered, smiling at the man in question. 

''Lando?'' 

''Zhou, because he doesn't humiliate me in front of the entire internet.'' The McLaren driver said, referring to their regular back-and-forths on social media. 

Y/N rolled her eyes. ''You're such a crybaby, Rumplestiltskin.'' Her words caused Lando to give her the middle finger, but it was all in good fun. 

''Anyway, Daniel?'' 

The Australian pretended to think hard about his answer, looking in-between her and Zhou. ''I'm gonna go with Y/N, cause I'm kinda scared what she'll do to me if I don't choose her.'' His answer got a laugh out of the other drivers, some of them nodding their heads. 

Y/N herself couldn't help but break a smile at Daniel's words, happy her friend had chosen her. ''Okay, next one.'' 

The voting was nearing its end and there was a tie, 9 people had chosen Zhou and 9 others had voted for Y/N. It all came down to one person. 

Sir Lewis Hamilton. 

Despite some of the drivers' dislike for the bet at the beginning of the meeting, everyone had gotten pretty invested. ''The maestro himself has to choose his next prodigy.'' Daniel joked, looking at the 7x world champion. 

Lewis shifted in his seat, not too fond of having the last vote on the matter. ''Can't I just say both of you? The two of you look very good.'' 

''No, mate! You have to choose.'' George argued, the others agreeing with him. 

Y/N was quite sure that Lewis would choose her. She was much closer to him than Zhou and the pair had talked about fashion before, discussing how it was a great way to express yourself. She was already designing Zhou's helmet in her mind. 

''Well, then… I guess Zhou.'' 

Her mouth dropped open, shocked that the senior driver had chosen the rookie over her. She wasn't the only one that seemed surprised by his choice, Seb turned around in his seat and Pierre's eyes had widened, mouthing ''wow''. 

The young man next to her, lightly slapped her arm. ''I'll send the design to your team next week, Y/N.'' He teasingly laughed, a big smirk present on his face. 

''This is a joke, right? I can't be number 3!'' She dramatically stated. 

''Hey! What's wrong with being the number 3?'' Daniel looked up, feigning being offended by her words. 

She was about to give another monologue about betrayal and how men are all the same, but several loud knocks on the door interrupted that from happening. Y/N sighed, but took a few steps to turn the lock. 

Their director didn't look too happy. ''Why was the door locked?'' 

''We were having an orgy.'' She sarcastically answered him, not planning on explaining to him why she had blocked the door from opening. 

''Y/N!'' 

The actual driver's briefing began and soon enough most drivers were already dozing off, some of them even wishing Y/N and Zhou's bet had taken a bit longer. They wouldn't admit it to the young woman, but ever since she'd made her arrival to these briefings, her unserious antics had made them much more bearable. Some drivers had even started looking forward to the meetings, because the girl always had something up her sleeve. 

As soon as the last issue was resolved, the meeting ended and everyone was out the door. When Zhou saw Y/N talking with Mick and Esteban, he swiftly moved next to Lewis. ''Hey, man,'' he patted the Brit's shoulder, ''thanks for that, I really appreciate it.'' 

''No problem,'' Lewis smiled, ''we made a deal, I'm keeping my word.'' 

Zhou nodded. ''Yeah, you vote for me and I let you help me design her helmet.'' He recalled the promise they had made a day earlier. 

''Great! I was thinking we just collect all kinds of embarrassing pictures of her and plaster them all around her helmet…''

''Great! I was thinking we just collect all kinds of embarrassing pictures of her and plaster them all around her helmet…''

''Great! I was thinking we just collect all kinds of embarrassing pictures of her and plaster them all around her helmet…''

[scorchedhearth]

Day. 18 LET’S BREAK THE ICE

"Just get it over with." |  Treading Water | "Take my Coat"

something fun today because inspiration is at a net zero and i really missed writing this asshole

By the time Midnighter reaches the panic room, he is tired, pissed and, most importantly, late. That does it for him, taking this already bad day to the shit tier faster than a bullet drops. He slowly unclenches the fingers of his fist, lets go of the collar of goon number 48 he’s been dragging behind him for the past two minutes and drops him on the step of the heavy door.

“So,” he says and pauses to spit some bits of flesh clumping on his tongue. “The way I see it, there are only two ways this can go. You either kindly and promptly open this door for me, or I make you learn the names of all the bones in your body.” He tilts his head down to look at the goon who’s trying to put on a brave face. “And I am an excellent teacher,” he grins, knows the bloodied teeth will show nicely. “I bet you’re a visual learner, just like me.”

“There’s no code, it’s a remote access and I don’t have access,” he says and squares his jaw, meeting him with a brave glare. He’s not lying the computer in his brain tells him, he’s just some low-level push paper they dropped in his way in a vain effort to slow him. They wouldn’t have told him the code for the coffee machine. “I swear I don’t.”

“Alright.” The odds of punching his way through the door aren’t looking so bright, but since when has that ever stopped him? He walks up to the door, coiled his shoulders and readies his fist before he hears a soft hiss. Turns out he doesn’t even need to use brute force, the two halves smoothly slide open before him, revealing a large hall and who even has the time to build these secret bunkers buried underground.

Midnighter rolls his eyes as he walks in, greeted by the infectious smell of septic hospital and putrid rot. He spots Lewis in a platform strung high above the room, wearing his stupid glove and taunting him with a smile. “Hey!” Midnighter hackles him, because he really doesn’t wanna play games. “You thought you could hide from me?”

“No, Midnighter,” he says, sickly sweet. “I was merely preparing for your arrival here. I have a gift for you.” And that is a sentence that never precedes something good, he should know.

“I’ve cut short a very nice day off just for you, shithead,” Midnighter pushes his hands in his pockets and grabs the collapsable staff he keeps there, keeps it in his fist. “And I have a date with my husband tonight, which I’m already late to and he’s not gonna be happy about that. You better appreciate my presence here and make it worth my while, or I will be very, very pissed.”

“Oh, I believe I will, Midnighter.” He smirks again and pushes a couple buttons, which reveals doors on both sides of the room, two huge robot suits walking out and into the hall with him. So the plans of discount robocops he cooked up aren’t strictly theoretical anymore, M notes. He was supposed to only burn computers, but he’s not against flaming a couple robots either. “These are my last creation, much better than the previous generation. You will find them-.”

“Save your breath, ‘Bert,” M cuts him off and grins. “I know exactly how this is going to go. I know which button you’ll push, and which one will move first. I’ve run this through a million times already, and I know every outcome possible, and I know which one I wanna take. I’ve already won.”

Lewis expression sours, which delights Midnighter. Now, he knows he will send robot one first, the one on his left, this will give him the initial advantage and protect his right side with the knee he messed up when he got there. After that, it’s all smooth sailing, he’s already noticed the weakness in the joint when they walk and hardly hidden battery and main electronics underneath the thickest parts of the armor.

“Just get it over with,” he taunts once more and predictably, as expected, it pushes him over the edge and sends the robot after M. Now it’s getting fun, he thinks as he pushes himself off the ground and readies his staff. He might make it home just in time for dessert.

[davidlikesguys02]

We Interrupt This Program

M/n= Male Name 

Bold- Means its on a tv screen. 

GIF Not mine

Word count: 2,932

“No, I can't leave Monica.” “mom? It's ok, I can stay with grandma and…” “I can't leave” “maybe I'll build a spaceship. I wanna be an aircraft pilot.” “when they were handing out kids they gave her the toughest one. Lieutenant trouble.” Monica wakes up breathing heavily and hearing crashing and people screaming as she makes her way towards the door and walks out. “Excuse me….” “they're all coming back. We don't have the capacity” the doctor tells her

“Excuse me. I'm looking for a patient. In room 104…” she asks a nurse “who, my wife? Do you have a phone?” “no” “i have to call my wife.” she makes her way towards the front desk “watch out” she bumps into a man, they both fall backwards grunting “let me help you. Are you ok? You ok?” “I got him. I got him.” “Are you ok?” she asks as she gets up groaning. She turns to the lady in the front desk.

“Excuse me. I'm looking for a patient in room number 104.” “I don't know what to tell you” she starts looking around her “Monica?” “oh, Dr. Highland, thank god!” “I can't believe it, where did you go?” “well, in her room since she came back from the surgery. I mean, I might have fallen asleep, but no longer than 20 minutes. Dr. Highland, where's my mom?” “your mom, she died honey” “what? No, no, no, no you're mistaken. My mother...the procedure went well. You said so yourself. Clean margins. You’re discharging her today”

“The cancer came back.” “Okay, stop, stop. No youre...my mom is Maria Rambeau. Look it up. I mean look it up. Maria Rambeau.” “Monica, I don't understand what's happening, but you need to listen to me Marian died three years ago.” “three? No. no. no…” “which was two years after you…” “after i what? After what?” “after you disappeared.”

Monica is walking towards big metal doors. She takes out her keycards but it beeps so she tries again but it beeped again “Ma’am? Over here please” she walked over to him smiling “hi, good morning. I work here. And…” “if you did, your badge would work, wouldn't it?” “right um… I have a meeting with…” “hey. You know who this is?” “..this guy” “Captain Monica Rambeau.” “Director Tyler Hayward”

“Acting Director. You haven't aged a day” “and you look old as hell” Tyler chuckles “come on, let's catch you up. It's been three weeks and you're the first to report. Cant say I'm surprised captain.” “How are the numbers for the astronaut training program?” “ Dismal. Lost half my personnel in The Blip and half of those remaining have lost their nerve. The program hasn't been the same since you've been up there, Rambeau. We shifted away from manned missions and refocused on robotics, nanotech, AI. Sentient Weapons, like it says on the door.”

“It also says observation and response on that door, not creation” “worlds not the same as you left it. Space is now full of unexpected threats” “always was full of threats. And allies” “Listen, Monica, I just wanna acknowledge the awkwardness of the situation. I know S.W.O.R.D.'s your home. Your mom built this place from the ground up. You grew up here. You should've been here to help name the replacement.” “you were the obvious choice”

“I was the only choice.” “I wasn't gonna say it. Look, Tyler, you know the job you have to do. I'm here to do mine.” ”Let's get you back out there.” he takes out his keycard and opens the door to his office. “The FBI is in a tizzy over missing persons case up in Jersey…” “missing persons?” “I know. But they have requested use of one of our imaging drones, and I need a chaperone.”

“Tyler, drones usually chaperone me.” “i get it” “look, if this is because of...you don't have to worry about me. I'm good.” “There's no easy way to say this, but you're grounded.” Monica chuckles “you're kidding. For how long? Who whose protocol is this?” “Your mother's. She implemented guidelines in the event vanished personnel ever returned. Look, I know it's a raw deal, but there is one positive takeaway.” “what's that?” “she believed you'd come back. You'd be doing me a big favor with this FBI thing, but if you need more time…”

“No. no. I'm good to go” “excellent. Keep me updated, captain.” Monica finally arrived at Westview “James E. Woo, FBI” “Monica Rambeau, S.W.O.R.D. what's the story here, agent woo?” “I've got a witness setup down the road in Westview, and this morning, it looked like he flew the coop?” “Your missing person is in the witness protection program?”

“I have contacted known associates, relatives…” “and let me guess, none of them have seen him either?” “No. None of them have ever heard of him. Something seemed hanky to me, so I took the first flight out of Oakland to interface with local law enforcement, which is when I encountered a new wrinkle.” “what's that?” “Pardon me, Sheriff. Would you mind repeating your claim about Westview to my colleague here?” “no such place” “you're saying the town of Westview, New Jersey, does not exist?”

“It's what I keep telling your G-man here, but he won't listen.” “I see. and , um, I'm sorry, what town are you from?” “Eastview” “Thank you, Sheriff. I'll reach out if we need any further assistance. I, uh, pulled phone numbers for all the residents. I'm only through the D’s, but so far I got Diddly Squat.” “So you can't reach anyone inside and everyone on the outside has some sort of selective amnesia?”

“This isn't a missing person's case, Captain Rambeau, it's a missing town. Population: 3,892.” “Why haven't you gone inside to investigate?” “Cause it doesn't want me to. You can feel it too, can't you? Nobody's supposed to go in.” Monica walks over to her car and pulls out a drone. “What about you?” “Me? Well, I'm from Bakersfield, originally. Growing up, other kids had Michael Jordan posters on their walls, but I had Eliot Ness.”

“No, no, no, no. I mean, why is it that you have an awareness of Westview? Or me, for that matter? Is it because we are outside of a certain radius, or maybe because we don't have a personal connection?” She looks at the screen but the drone malfunctions. She looks up and it's gone “Wait, where'd it go?” “It was right there.” she walk towards the town but stops as she hears electricity bussing “whoa..”

“What is it?” “some sort of energy field” “Careful, Rambeau. Captain Rambeau! Watch it. Rambeau! Captain Rambeau! Captain Rambeau!” she sticks her hand in and it pulls her in and she disappears.

24 Hours Later

“Hey. What's your field?” “We're not supposed to talk to each other.” “hmm? Boy scout leader. Got it. And you” Darcy asked a woman next to the boy scout leader. “Nuclear biology” “artificial intelligence” “astrophysics. We got the full clown car. It means whatever the threat is, S.W.O.R.D. clearly has no idea what they're dealing with.” “I'm a chemical engineer” “no one cares”

“Alright grab your gear.” Darcy walks around the S.W.O.R.D. camp. “Ms. Lewis?” “Dr.Lewis” “we have your gear set up inside.” the man walks Darcy inside a tent “those drones you're sending in, what kind of data are you getting?” “I'm afraid that is highly classified.” “You can't see anything? FBI, Army. I saw the Air Force Office of Special Investigations out there. Research Lab, Space Command, too. A bona fide, joint, multi-service response. Really looking forward to the commemorative T-shirt. Is there somewhere a lady could get a cup of coffee? You guys look like you might get down with those little pod things. Horrendous for the environment…”

“Make your assessment, please” “whoa… I mean, whoa..” “what are you getting?” “a colossal amount of CMBR” “CM…” “Cosmic Microwave Background Radiation.” “we've been told the radiation is within a safe limit” “uh, it is… for now” “wait what do you mean” Darcy shushes the man “there's are longer wavelength superimposed over the noise here” she looks under the desk and struggles to get something “I got it”

“I need a TV. an old one. Like, not flat.” After a few hours it started raining. “Are you good to go?” Hayward asked an agent “yes, sir” “these sewers will take you straight into town. Try to find anything you can on Rambeau” “copy that” “keep me updated” Hayward says as he walks away. “Director Hayward, between you, me, and the bedpost, I am not confident about this mission.” “Thanks for the feedback, Jimmy. If only my drones were as forthcoming.”

“There's no reason to suspect the perimeter doesn't extend subterraneous.” “There's no reason to suspect it does.” Jimmy sighs “We don't know enough about the nature of the threat to send in another agent when the first is yet to return.” “Someone must really miss you back in Quantico.” “No, sir. Softball season's over, sir.” “what do we have up?” Hayward asked agent Rodriguez “Radar, sonar, infrared” “cycle through. Will someone get me a useful visual, dammit?”

Everyone hears a studio audience laughing in the tent “what is that?” “Can I see you in the kitchen for a moment, sweetheart?” “Who is doing that?” “Who are those people?” “What are you wearing?” “Why are they here?” “Well, it's our anniversary!” “our anniversary of what?” “Well, if you don't know, I'm not going to tell you!” “is that..” “ yeah, it looks like him.” “you move at the speed of sound and i can make a pen float through the air, who needs to abbreviate?”

“Look , I know it's been a crazy few years on this planet, but he's dead, right? Not blipped, dead.” “excellent plan. Where's the tenderizer” “what am I looking at? You? What is that? Where's this coming from?” “out there” “you didn’t answer the back door. For your upside-down cake. oh hi, I” “is it authentic?” “I'm not sure how to answer that” “is it happening in real time? Is it recorded, fabricated?” “I don't know. I don't know. And I don't know” “what do you know?” Hayward said annoyed “My equipment registered an extremely high level of CMBR. That's…”

“Relic radiation dating back to the Big Bang.” “Yeah, entwined was a broadcast frequency. So I had your goons pick me up a sweet vintage TV. And when I plug this bad boy in, voilà, sound and picture.” “Dinner is served” “So you're saying the universe created a sitcom starring two Avengers?” Jimmy asked, confused “It's a working theory” “Get me a transport back to headquarters now. Are we recording this?”

“Never stopped.” Darcy says “I need immediate analysis. Now, people. Let's go!” “He’s a charmer.” “great work” “hey, thanks, maybe I could get that cup of coffee now? Or not. It's cool.” ”Aw” Darcy turns to the screen to see you and Vision kissing “Aw”

“First and foremost, our main objective is to get any intel on Captain Rambeau, but originally, this case was a missing person, so we're going to start there. We've successfully identified two individuals inside the Westview anomaly. Let's keep going.” Jimmy says as he puts two pictures up of you and Vision. “This guest is leaving your home” “yes, thank you for coming” “Mr. and Mrs. Hart. played by Todd and Sharon Davis.”

“Computational forms. And no one can process the data quite like you do, pal.” “Agent Woo” “you're like a walking computer.” “Abilash Tandon is Norm” “Harold Proctor is Jones” “we got Isabel Matsueida cast as Beverly” “John Collins as Herb.” Darcy gasps, dropping her Noodle cup and calls Jimmy over “Really?” “Does she seem okay to you?” “Well, she doesn't appear to be harmed in any way, but that is definitely not the boss lady I met yesterday.”

“So what, deep cover? Monica has to play along?” “With whom? Or else, what? All right. Brass tacks, Dr. Lewis. What are we looking at here? Is it an alternate reality? Time travel? Some cockamamie social experiment?” “It's a sitcom. A 1950s sitcom.” “But why?”

“Hey, man, we're working with the same scarcity of intel. But, listen, I do have an idea. So, you've seen that radio in M/n’s kitchen counter, right? The next time he's washing dishes, which, by my count, happens about once an episode, barf, we'll shoot a signal to that little guy. This transmitter will mimic the frequency of the broadcast, and if my theory is right, allow us to speak directly to her. This is totally gonna work. Don't touch that.”

“Agent Woo.” agent Rodrigues hands Jimmy a folder inside the folder there's a colored image of a retro S.W.O.R.D. drone “Is this from the current episode?” “aired about two minutes ago.” “What is it?” Darcy asks “what does it look like to you?” “like a retro version of a S.W.OR.D. drone?” “bingo” “but how did it change and why” “uh, to go with the production design” “or render it useless”

“why‘d you colorize it?” “I didn't” Darcy heads back to the tent. “Let's get this show on the road. Jimmy, you ready?” Darcy asks through an earpiece. “Ready” “bigger and better every season” “uh, Jimmy, Monica is talking to M/n. she's got a speaking part now.” “what is she saying?” “those jeans are peachy keen” “she likes M/n’s jeans” “we only have a few hours” “M/n’s at some sort of swim club. We've never been here before.”

“Is it the 60’s still?” “uh, uh, M/n’s with another character.” “real person?” “ohh, uh, radio on the side table. start talking.” “M/n. M/n, can you read me over?” “I don't...” “Can he hear me?” “I don't think so, keep trying.” “M/n?” “M/n?” “M/n. Who is doing this to you, M/n? M/n? Can you hear me? I'm here to help” “please give us a…” “pop quiz M/n how does a housewife or in this case househusband get a bloodstain out of white linen?”

“Wait” “what?” “I don't know” “by doing it yourself” “that's weird” “what was?” “Nothing, it's over. Mission failure” “it was worth a try. Good effort, doctor.” “yeah come in”

Both Jimmy and Darcy are watching you and Vision on TV “darling, do you think it's time to..” “call the doctor?” “yeah” “yes, I do dear” “1950s, 1960s, and now the '70s. Why does it keep switching time periods? It can't be purely for my enjoyment, can it?” “I cant believe M/n and Vision are having a baby” “you want any?” Jimmy chuckles

“Heck, I thought about it for sure. A little Jimmy Woo. Get him a tiny little FBI badge. Oh, you... Chip? Sure.” “you're doing great. You're doing great. Look at me. Look at me.” “The jig is up” you scream. After a few minutes you hear the baby cry “hi, oh, he's perfect” “what a twist.” Darcy says as she's tearing up “What? I'm invested” “he was killed by Ultron, wasn't he?” “Did she just say the name Ultron? Has that ever happened before? A reference to our reality.”

“No never” “hey I'll take a shift rocking the babies” “no I think you should leave” “oh, M/n, don't be like that” “who are you?” “M/n” “wow this is different” The Tv cuts and Monica is gone “what happened? Where she go?” “god not again” Darcy replays the footage back “who are you?” “M/n” “there's nothing here. One second, Monica is standing right there, and the next she isn’t. Someone is censoring the broadcast.”

“But where's Rambeau?” they suddenly both hear the alarm “Alert! Boundary has been breached! Alert! Boundary has been breached!”

Inside Westview

“Who are you?” “I don't..” you walk closer to her “who are you?” “M/n i'm just your neighbor.” “Then how did you know about Ultron?” you start to see the familiar red glow around your hands “You're not my neighbor. And you're definitely not my friend. You are a stranger and an outsider. And right now, you are trespassing here. And I want you to leave.”

Your familiar red glow wraps around Monica Sending her back through every wall and fence. You gulp “I… I…” you raise your hands and start to fix the hole on the wall as if it never happened. You walk over to your babies hearing them “M/n?” Vision comes in through the door turning back to his synthezoid form “where is Geraldine?” “oh she left honey. She had to rush home”

You turn around to look at Vision and you gasp making you look down “what? What is it? What's wrong?” Vision asks you concerned “Uh..” you slowly look up at him and see that he looks normal again “we don't have to stay here. We could go wherever we want” Vision tells you “no, we can't. This is our home” you move your hand to crease his cheek and he holds onto your hand “are you use”

“oh, don't worry darling. I have everything under control.” you walk over and grab Tommy “oh hi” you turn to Vision smiling “what should we watch tonight?” you walk over to the sofa, Vision sits next to you. He puts an arm around you.

Outside of Westview

“Monica, are you okay?” “it's M/n. its all M/n”

[1ddotdhq]

💐Fri 4 Dec ‘20 🌍

Cooking competitions were fought, flower shops were opened, petitions were signed, and today was all in all a lovely, gentle sort of day! 

Before last night’s Variety show, real!Harry popped back on instagram to tell Kid Harpoon that the producer award he got was “Fake News” and to “Stop the Count”. Look if Harry wants to keep showing more personality on Instagram I WANT TO SEE IT! Then Variety’s show aired, and Niall and Harry were “there”: Niall presented Lewis Capaldi’s “songwriter of the year” award (in response to it, Lewis thanked the other songwriters for “being a worse songwriter than me”), and Harry, of course, was the Hitmaker of the year! He was introduced by a lot of Big Industry People who all decided to say that they were, uh, so proud of him for leaving a boyband and becoming a rock star? Ah, good, that means it’s the “elitist music takes” segment of the hour. When are people gonna realize that shitting on a really successful, record breaking band in order to say nice things about Harry (one of its members!) is not the compliment they think it is. Nick Kroll's longer intro was at least more interesting, sharing some DWD set moments, confirmed that Harry is a ‘manly man’, and jokingly said that he and his wife and Harry have become a throuple (ANOTHER threesome? Really Harry?). Harry then showed up, looking pretty tired (he’s been doing very long hours, guys!) and wearing his dick banana necklace, and said, “Thanks to [my team] and everyone who supported me through it...thanks to the label for leaving me alone..this is...cool. Cool. I’m gonna get back in the studio”. Cool! 

Anyways, that discourse was quickly overtaken by the revelation that Harry DID pay his touring crew back in the spring when his tour was postponed: it came from a local Belgian publication in Ghent, where a man named Yves Van Acker has opened a flower shop (yes I DO think that this sounds like the beginning of a fairy tale!). Anyways, Yves has toured with a number of famous bands over the years, Harry being most recent. “The entire crew was suddenly out of work,” Yves said of Love On Tour’s crew, “But Harry Styles did not want to leave us. Each member was therefore paid an amount. A nice gesture, on which I decided to do something positive with this latest income”. A few things about this 1.) it was not just a nice gesture, it’s the Right Thing to DO! He’s paying people for work he hired them to do! 2.) It's wonderful enough to see, in fact, that it really isn't actually necessary to inflate: the employee told us that he received an amount, clearly a decent amount (enough to open a business), but we do not know if he was given his full wages. It sure is amazing though! And 3.) he named bouquets of flowers after Harry songs! He has “Adore You”, “Golden”, “Canyon Moon”, and “Ever Since New York”, but not, shockingly enough, “Sunflower Vol 6” - COME ON! It’s RIGHT THERE! Anyways, I adore Harry and I want everyone to know that - he does always do his best to be kind. 

Liam has a new COVER out, and one of my favorite songs: “Waiting on the World to Change” by John Mayer! The cover is for UNICEF Changemaker, and Liam says that he’s “proud to support them in any way I can”. Okay I’m a NERD so I’m about to rant about how this was the PERFECT song for Liam. The first is his RANGE: he gave the song a really gravelly, soulful sound that it deserves, and his falsettos are SO GOOD that he hits the high notes EASILY. The second are the LYRICS of the song! Literally: “It's hard to beat the system when we're standing at a distance” and “and when you trust your television, what you get is what you got; ‘cause when they own the information, they can bend it all they want”. UGH CHILLS! But that was NOT ALL for Liam, who made a guest appearance on Abby Robert’s YouTube channel in a cook off competition! They made roasted potatoes and Yule Logs (weird combo but okay), and chatted about Christmas traditions a bit. Liam said that he actually DOES do quite a bit of cooking on Christmas because he liked to watch the “tea” go down but not be a part of it (Liam do you read this blog? Was that a hint??). Anyways, he also said that he spends every Christmas with his son, because “Christmas is about kids” (Abby Roberts did a HARD eye roll it was very funny), he put out a fire (firefighter!Liam), and he dropped a boiled potato and lots of powdered sugar. Liam won for his potatoes and Abby won for the Yule Log, and *I* got really hungry. “Don’t set your kitchens on fire,” Liam warns cheerily at the end of the video. Yeahhhh, thanks for that! And now for Liam’s short but lovely content: his alarm this morning said, “It’s that Friday feeling” and then he and Roman talked about their holiday plans - Liam with his fam, Roman with his booze and Karaoke (“I’ll be doing strip that down in front of my mum”. Yeah, cuz that’s not weird at all), and they FINALLY released their bedtime story - It’s twenty minutes long and it’s called “Bedtime Bromance” (can’t wait to hear it!). He also posted an Instagram story of himself in a recording studio in Stockholm singing “Last First Kiss”. “Back to Where it All Started,” the caption read. :{) 

And now for Niall and Louis, both of whom are taking up some social issues! Sam Fender (who got into a bit of hot water yesterday for, uh, a joke about Louis’ fans and our key smashing tendencies alkdjfladj) called on the UK-based “Tomlinators” (lmao no <3) to sign a petition which requires local governments to have free helplines for the homeless and vulnerable. And, of course, fans got right on that and helped Sam reach his goal! Oh, wait, no, that DIDN’T happen - instead, fans jumped down his throat for, uh, clout chasing?? And they told him that he couldn’t get away with mocking us and expect us to HELP him!! YEAH GUYS! How DARE he try to use his influence to make a difference?? Anyways, Louis was clearly super mad, you could tell by how he liked the tweet, retweeted the petition, and then said, “Very important cause. If you’re a UK resident please sign!”. As of right now, the petition sits at 10,000 out of 100,000 signatures needed, so. Let’s get it done! Niall is also going to do some community work: he will be at Comhairle Na Nog’s meeting ( it’s an Irish child and youth councils in Ireland) on Saturday giving a shout out to the kids who have been working on projects and in their community despite lockdown. Awww, best of luck to both of them in their very worthy causes.

[taetaesbaebaepsae]

Beauty

a/n: This is a gifted commission from a lovely friend to a lovely friend, I hope you both enjoy!

Summary: When you meet Jimin at a coffee shop, you’re shocked he even notices you. 

Warnings: Jimin x plus sized reader, there’s a bit of insecurity here but also just SO MUCH FLUFF, god, I am gonna need a tooth filled Jimin is the sweetest angel

Word Count:1670

You must have something on your face.

This absolutely ridiculously handsome guy keeps staring at you, smiling and turning away when you catch his eyes.

Is it food? God is it a pimple so big it's attracting attention?

Oh God he's coming over.

"Excuse me?"

It's physically painful to look at him, he's got these perfect lips and this perfect jawline and oh no you're staring.

You realize he's expecting some kind of response when he tilts his head.

"Uh...yes?" You finally manage.

"I really like your piercings," he says, and you'd expected literally anything but that.

"Th-thank you."

Wonder of all wonders, he's sitting down across from you and you wonder if you've slipped into another dimension.

"What are you listening to?" He asks, nodding at the one earbud in your ear.

"Oh, ah, I'm sort of picky about music, you might not like it." You say quickly.

He raises an eyebrow. "Well now I'm intrigued. My name is Jimin."

"I'm.. I'm Y/n."

He leans in further and you wonder if it's healthy for your heart to race this much.

People don't notice you, especially people that look like he does. You've been chubby since childhood, and you've accepted your body but you'd also accepted that society viewed you either as invisible or as someone to be mocked.

But he's smiling and it seems genuine.

Jimin scoots closer to you and takes one of your earbuds, the one you’ve taken out, and holds it close to his ear to listen.

For hours, you sit there with him in the cafe, talking about music and other things, and he’s all smiles and it makes you laugh so hard when he emphatically tells you that Huey Lewis and the News is underrated as a garage band that there are tears in your eyes.

There’s this pause in conversation, this lull, and you start to get nervous while he’s just looking at you, face open and happy.

“I should...I should go,” you say quietly.

He makes this cute little disappointed sound in the back of his throat and pouts slightly, but nods.

"Can I give you my number, Y/n?" He asks, and he doesn't whisper it, doesn't act ashamed of it like some other guys have in the past.

So how were you supposed to say no to that? 

You give him yours instead, sure that he won't call you, but later that night when you get out of the shower, he's texted you.

Your breath catches in your throat, but you end up texting back right away.

That was too eager, you think, but you see him typing back right away.

You text most of the night and well into the next morning and he's funny and sweet and flirty.

When you finally fall asleep and wake up, it's at first like it's all been some sort of fever dream, but when you wake up he's texted you good morning and you blink at the phone, shocked.

It goes like that for days, the two of you texting all night, until one night after you’d been texting for a few hours, he facetimes you.

You nearly drop your phone and accidentally answer it, sputtering a bit. You make sure the phone camera is turned from you so that only your bedroom wall is visible.

Jimin frowns, and god is he cute cute cute and you feel like your voice might be a squeak when he calls your name and you respond.

“Why can’t I see you?” 

He has his chin propped in his hand, smiling at you and it does things to your heart.

“I’m not wearing makeup,” you blurt out, and while it’s not a lie, it’s not like you wear much usually.

Jimin frowns again. “Wanna see you, beauty.”

You take in a sharp breath. “Wh-what did you call me?”

Jimin shifts forward a bit, peering into the camera as if he can somehow make you turn it toward your face.

“What? Beauty? You don’t like it?”

Your face flushes so quickly that it makes you a little dizzy. “It’s not that I don’t like it,” you say, haltingly. “I just don’t think I am?”

Jimin’s eyes widen a bit, blinking into the camera. “You don’t think you’re beautiful?”

You aren’t sure how to respond but he doesn’t let you, shaking his head.

“You’re more than beautiful, Y/n.” He says softly, and it’s too much, it’s making tears stand behind your eyes and you fumble with the phone, hanging up the call.

He calls back but you can’t answer, breathing deeply. Everything feels so surreal and overwhelming but you don’t want to stop talking to him, it’s the highlight of your day, so you text him a quick: I’m sorry, before squeezing your eyes shut and heading to bed.

***

Jimin keeps frowning at his phone, looking at all the texts he’s sent you that have gone unread. It’s been a couple days since the facetime call, and he’s worried that he’s offended you, maybe even made you so mad that you won’t respond at all.

He doesn’t give up, though, because he loves talking to you so much, has felt this pull toward you since that day he met you at the coffee shop.

After another day of you leaving his text messages on read, he calls you.

When you answer, it’s on the fourth or fifth ring and your voice is hesitant. “Hello?”

“Beauty,” he sighs, on impulse, without thinking about it, and then his heart jumps a bit when you don’t respond. “Are you mad at me?” 

“No. No, I’m not mad, Jimin.” 

He waits for a moment, waits for you to respond, and then huffs out a breath. “Will you meet me at the coffee shop tonight? I just want to see you.”

“Ah. I might be...busy.” You say hesitantly, and uncertainty rises in his chest.

“Tomorrow?” He asks, determined.

“I’m not sure,” you murmur, and it makes him sit up straighter in his chair, humming in the back of his throat.

“Will you text me when you’re free?” He asks, and he feels needy and desperate but he just likes you so much, doesn’t know how not to be too much, and he knows that about himself but he can’t stop it.

“Sure, Jimin.” 

“I like the way you say my name,” he admits, and his heart feels a little lighter when you make this cute surprised squeak.

“I should go for dinner,” you say, and he frowns.

It seems like you’re always trying to dismiss him, and he can’t help but wonder why, can’t help but wonder if there’s something you’re not telling him or if maybe you’re just not that into him and he can’t help himself, huffs out a breath.

“Do you have a boyfriend or something?” He asks, and when you pause it feels like his heart is fluttering around in his chest, something bitter at the back of his throat.

“What?” You laugh softly, and Jimin pouts, heart dropping.

“Don’t make fun of me, beauty.”

“What?” You repeat.

“You know, if you have a boyfriend, it’d be nice to tell me instead of just ignoring all the times I’ve asked you out,” Jimin starts, face feeling hot. “Because-”

“What.” It doesn’t seem like a question this time. “Jimin, I don’t have a boyfriend.” 

He sighs, everything feeling suddenly lighter, and sits up a little straighter. 

“Do you want one?” 

Jimin can’t help but feel a little vindicated at that little squeak you make again.

“Go out with me,” he says suddenly. “I’m very nice, you know. And fun. And I’ve been told I’m cute.”

“Jimin,” you almost groan, your voice sounding muffled.

“Go out with me,” he insists. “I’ll come pick you up right now, take you some place nice-”

“Jimin,” you groan again, and he sighs

“Or we can just sit in a park and listen to music again,” he continues, as if you hadn’t protested. When you’re quiet for a moment, he lets out a long breath. “I just like you a lot, beauty. Please?” 

***

You being unable to say no to Park Jimin is a trend, apparently.

You let him pick you up, that night and many others, and the first night he sits a foot from you on the bench but his index finger keeps creeping toward your pinky.

The second time, he takes your hand, entwining your fingers and putting his chin on your shoulder to look at your phone while you listen.

It’s gradual, how close he gets, how much he touches you, and then the fourth night he calls your name softly while you’re flipping through music on your phone.

When you turn your head, your nose just barely brushes his.

“Beauty, will you let me kiss you?”

You nod and tilt your chin up and his lips on yours are so soft that you can barely breathe until he kisses you deeper, leans into you.

You don’t know how to tell him why you’re hesitant, why you pull away, he doesn’t seem to understand, somehow, how you’re big and people see you as some other or don’t see you at all, but you try because you can’t stand the look on his face when you pull away and push at his chest.

“Y/n...beauty….I told you, you’re more than beautiful. You’re smart and opinionated and so sweet-” He tucks a stray strand of hair from your face and you keep willing yourself not to cry.

“Just let me love you,” he says, quietly, cups your cheek in his hand.

So how were you supposed to say no to that? 

The way he kisses every freckle, how he moves your hands away when you try to hide a part of your body that you don’t like, how he tells you over and over how sexy you are and how much he loves you….it might be a step towards loving yourself, even if just a small one.

[alfalfatauri]

How safe would I feel in an elevator with the 2020 grid?

I’ve been thinking about this for days and I tried to keep this as unbiased as possible, however I simply couldn’t let the serial non-kneelers rank highly, so the criteria was what I know about them combined with looking at the first page of google images..

Sebastian Vettel: I’ve never seen a man give off bigger dad vibes. This is both good news and bad news for Seb. On the one hand, he’s not going to say anything creepy and he’s going to be checking couple of minutes to see how I’m hanging in there…. But on the other hand, I get the feeling his concern could turn from comforting to overbearing and claustrophobic. I’m safe but mildly annoyed. 8/10. 

Charles Leclerc: Oh this kid thinks he’s top shit and he can crack that smile and make everything better. He’s not intentionally a sleazebag but it can come off that way. I’d still feel ‘safe’ but I’d be wary of him for sure. Not giving out any detailed answers, keeping my self to myself. 5/10.

Lewis Hamilton: He’s calm. He’s collected. He probably has the lift technician’s number on speed dial. He has a bottle of water to keep us hydrated and he wants to know what I study. If he asked to buy me dinner afterwards, I’d say yes because I know he’s a good guy. I feel safe in this elevator. 9/10.

Valterri Bottas: I feel like he’d make a stupid joke to try to put me at ease and it would have the opposite effect. He has the added effect of being a rather large looking adult man. 4/10.

Max Vertstappen: I don’t feel actively unsafe but I don’t feel actively comfortable either. He’d gonna be wearing a cap and a Red Bull branded jacket and shorts and I’m going to want to avoid eye contact. I might warm up to him after a while, but he also might say something dumb. 5/10.

Alex Albon: It’s not that I want to be stuck in a lift, but if I had to be stuck in a lift with Alex, I wouldn’t be mad about it. He’s so soft spoken, he’s funny, he’s kind, he’s level headed, he’s a bean pole, he’d show me pictures of his pets on his phone. 9/10.

Lando Norris: Sir, this is a child. We weigh the same amount. If I needed to, I could overpower him. He’s more scared of the elevator being stuck than I am. He giggles too easily. He’s not a threat. 8/10.

Carlos Sainz: Get this man out of the elevator please. I don’t like his vibes. I do not like his vibes. 2/10.

Daniel Ricciardo: The way I feel about Australian men, this could have gone either way. However there’s something about Daniel that makes me feel related to him? Like I’ve been to a family BBQ and he’s also been there. And we’ve all seen what he’s like with kids… I don’t trust him not to jump up and down just to see if he can get the elevator to move though so that drops his score a little. 8/10.

Esteban Ocon: He’s another bean pole. He’s a smiley bean pole. He’d be fun to talk to. 7/10.

George Russell: I know I’ve said this before. Here’s the thing with George… Sometimes he looks like the kindest man on the face of the planet. Other times he gives off big ‘I was the Cool Kid in high school’ vibes. Like… I would warm up to him, but the first time he stepped in the elevator I wouldn’t make eye contact. 7/10.

Nicholas Latifi: Before I watched Nicky interacting with people I was kinda ??? and :o about him. He’s got a thick rugby player neck. It scares me. 4/10.

Lance Stroll: Nope. Absolutely not. I know he’s nice irl I know it I want to like him I just can’t. I don’t want to be in an elevator with him. 3/10.

Sergio Perez: Also dad vibes but in a slightly more ‘get your shit together why are you freaking out’ way than Seb. He’s okay. 6/10.

Antonio Giovinazzi: Um.. no thank u sir. 3/10.

Kimi Raikkonen: Absolutely not. Do not pass go. I shall be taking the stairs from now on. 2/10.

Romain Grosjean: He’s okay I guess. I don’t feel any particular way about him. 5/10.

Kevin Magnussen: Nice face, slow spoken, he’d set up a full kitchen-picnic table-living room in the elevator and we’d be having a nice chill conversation by the time we were rescued. 7/10.

Pierre Gasly: All I need to do is point you in the direction of a video of him giggling and call it a day. He’s small, he’s giggly, I love him. 9/10

Daniil Kvyat: he looks a bit scary but ultimately I think he’d be very head down, let’s get this sorted, you stay on your side of the lift and I’ll stay on mine, when we get out of here we’ll laugh about it and maybe shake hands. 6/10.

Nico Hulkenberg: Like Dany, he looks scary at first but then he starts talking about Zeus and showing me pictures of him, and he smiles a little and it’s all well inside the elevator. Idk something about large blond men makes me ….. but he gets a 7/10.

[formulatrash]

Could I get your opinion on Hamilton? Bc I feel like people either love him and are like he is the nicest person in the universe or hate him and think he’s the worst & tbh while he does seem genuinely good he’s also clearly willing to do quite a lot to win (2007) & I really doubt the Nico thing was one sided either way so... opinions.

Hello, anon - I got two of these so gonna answer this one rather than both .Lewis, man. Where the hell do you start with Lewis? Unquestionably one of the most talented drivers we have seen or will ever see on track. Not just for raw speed or ingenuity but with the way he has been able to adapt and learn across a changing era of cars - something a lot of the other drivers aspiring to GOAT status (Alonso, in particular) just haven’t been able to do. 

People think of Lewis as having unquestionably the best car. But that’s a recent development (and not always true even then) - the last few years he and Jenson were at McLaren, they were wildly outperforming the cars with a really strong driver pairing. (and the order was a little less rigid then, in all fairness)

I’m nearly the same age as Lewis so I remember him when he was a novelty - when what people said was that there was this guy in the junior categories who was fast - and this was always prefixed - he was black. 

People said he was stroppy, had cheating engines (there is no evidence of this, especially when you consider the budget he was working with) and that he had a bad attitude, he was never going to get to Formula One so why put him in your team, a kid like that couldn’t be a champion… in other words the extremely racialised term “uppity.” Like, have absolutely zero illusions on this front, people were not supportive.

Some were, obviously and for every hand up like the McLaren backing, the detractors got louder. So when Lewis took the GP2 title and moved up to F1, he had to come in hot and obnoxious. Especially with Fernando as his teammate. Especially with spygate about to wipe out any shine left on the mangled heap they’d made of the championship trophy that year.

And oh, the disqualification (for anyone not up to speed: the whole McLaren entry was excluded that season for allegedly spying on Ferrari) just validated the detractors: you see, he isn’t that good. He was cheating. 

Lewis has a temper. I don’t mean that in the sense he’s an angry guy, at all, just that there is a certain length you can push him and he will eventually snap, like all of us - he’s not a robot. And if you have to prove yourself again and again and again, in tests way beyond what anyone else is being scrutinised on, knowing that it is unfair and having no way to get past them but to once again, obnoxiously, excel then you will occasionally also make the odd sniping comment. 

I’ve never heard him say anything stroppier than he once threw a bit of a shit fit because he thought Jenson unfollowed him on Twitter, though - whereas the howling conniptions when he succeeds in whatever the latest arbitrary challenge someone has decided he must pass to be considered successful? Those continue to the day.

Lewis, of course, is now pretty zen. He’s spent a long time working on himself and has been repairing his relationship with his father (who used to be his manager until they somewhat explosively parted ways) and with old rivals. He’s been growing as a person and a driver, he’s been caring less about what people think. The Lewis now is very different to the Lewis even a few years ago - clearly a lot of self-reflection and space has happened, after what was years of charging around and also some - bluntly - horrible psychological shit which the Merc team definitely have to take some responsibility for because it was their success formula to set him and Nico against each other to push each other forwards.

And for all the bitterness between him and Nico, they were never, like, really loathing each other. Just couldn’t work together. I find it really ghoulish how eager the press is to see Carlos and Lando go the same way, asking when will you fall out? all the time like it wasn’t obvious both Lewis and Nico were in pretty horrible states during it. (I saw some of the aftermath via one of them and like, that’s some trauma right there :/)

Has Lewis had his controversies? For sure. Some of them I have been upset by - like when he posted an instagram story telling his nephew he couldn’t wear a dress. Thing about Lewis is that, especially as he’s got older, he doesn’t double-down on things like that, he goes away and reflects - and designed a range of skirts and modelled them for an interview where he was called on it, then went to Disneyland and walked round with his nephew wearing that princess dress he’d mocked him for. [warning: Daily Mail link sorry, only site that had the pics] 

Yes, ideally he would not have been a prang in the first place but it is also very good to publicly show growth. Especially in F1. 

I loved old, obnoxious fuckboy Lewis. He was the middle finger F1 needed showing - and his resilience to the number of times the press and the talking heads and the social circles of F1 tried to push him back down, only to spring back up with a blindingly-polished trophy… ah, you love to see it. 

Lewis means more to me than almost any other driver - and like, I vibe heavily with several - because he is that outlier example who shouldn’t have been counted but who keeps forcing them to score him into the ledgers of history, even now.

Is it good having a vocal advocate for women and for LGBT rights, who isn’t scared to call out motorsports prejudices and racism, so prominently in the sport? Yes. It’s a hard truth that he had to get this level of success in order to gain a platform because no when Lewis speaks people have to listen and report it. Because if his Instagram story can turn into a scandal, it can also be a communications platform. It’s why he holds a lot of sway with Liberty Media. 

Now Lewis’ rights to be in the sport are unassailable. So he can start on other fights he couldn’t take at the time - there’s a reason the F1 press still gives Wehrlein (who is one of the sweetest drivers I have ever worked with) the “uppity” treatment and it’s fucking sad. It’s so embarrassing to work in this industry that’s a thousand miles behind even other embarrassing industries on this global fucking shame. 

Look, I don’t give a fuck about the whole GOAT thing because sport is a continuous cycle (err, most years) and so ‘all time’ is a dumb thing to put in an accolade. But Lewis is, in my opinion, the best Formula One driver we have ever witnessed the career of. He is devastatingly good, has honed himself to a level where mistakes are such a rarity they’re a headline in and of themselves.

To maintain that, year after year after year? It’s not human. It’s a man who’s pushed himself beyond the pinnacle of the sport because he has proven everything and still someone will be typing out some snide little piece, at the same time I am writing this, that Hamilton will never be the greatest because [arbitrary mathematics about how you can’t count three of his titles so we don’t have to respect him yet. Not yet. It’s not that we don’t respect him because of who he is. It’s just one last test….]

Does Lewis being so good at Formula One driving it’s not really comprehensible below the level of fellow world champion make other drivers bad? No. He’s not walking to the titles. And maybe one day someone will be better than Lewis. Maybe he won’t be on form this year, somehow, for the first time in years of racing - if it ever starts again. Maybe he’ll retire to make tracksuits and rescue dolphins. 

I am glad he seems happy now. He looks incredible. Man gets hotter and nicer with every year and you absolutely love to see it. His growth in himself and the sport has been equally impressive and his transformative power, both in terms of pushing forward the sporting side and in terms of using his platforms for good, is awesome. 

(Lewis doesn’t have to speak out about stuff; I know people think it’s naff or crass or obnoxious or preachy but he could just not - and he knows people’d bash him for something else) 

That said, I wish he’d put some money into sponsoring some grass roots motorsport but that is literally my only beef with him. But yeah, we stan a complicated, evolutionary boy.

[sidemenimaginesss]

one dare - harry lewis

requested: yes - “Hi! May I request Harry with 31, 40, and 41. Or...whichever of the three lol. Make it whatever genre you want! Have a great day!”

“hello :) can you do number 40 on the requests with Harry? And could you do it where they are not already in a relationship? Love your stuff!!”

prompt 31: “how long have you been standing there?”

prompt 40: “stop saying things that make me want to kiss you”

prompt 41: “oh my god! you’re in love!”

summary: you have liked your best friend harry for a long time now, but is the feeling mutual?

wordcount: 2417

-

it was only the beginning of something great, and all it took was one dare.

it all started when you and your friends were all hanging out together. the boys had invited everyone to come around to their house and just chill for a bit.

everyone was gathered around in the living room at 8 pm, scattered along the couches and chairs in front of the tv, which played some random sports game in the background.

sitting next to your friends simon and his girlfriend talia, you felt a bit left out and like a third weel, but you went with it nonetheless.

you were quite bored, not being in conversation with anybody, and every so often you’d sneak a glance at harry, who was sitting across from you. he was wearing some black sweatpants paired with an oversized pink hoodie, which made him look very soft and comfortable. he was in conversation with cal, and every time his face brightened in response to whatever cal was telling him, your own smile grew slightly. you knew you liked harry, but you had always brushed it off as just a crush. you had known him for a long time and wouldn’t want to ruin the friendship anyway, so you just kept it to yourself, hidden from everyone else.

well, that was, until simon poked your cheek and winked at you. you frowned at him in confusion and looked over to talia who had abandoned him and was excitedly talking to freya - josh’s girlfriend and another one of your friends - leaving simon to observe the room on his own.

“what is it?” you asked, when he kept staring at you in a weird way, moving his eyebrows up and down. “oh you know, just saw one of my friends checking out one of my other friends, no big deal,” he smirked, and your eyes widened.

“uh, simon, what are you talking about?” you tried to play it coy, but you’ve always been a bad liar, and your cheeks reddening said enough. you got caught.

his eyes turned to slits and you rolled your eyes back at him. abruptly, he stood up and pushed his chair back with a loud noise, making everyone in the room turn their heads to the two of you. “we’re just gonna go get some snacks,” simon shrugged the stares off and everyone continued their conversations. simon grabbed your hand and pulled you with him whilst you caught harry’s eye, who quickly averted his gaze.

against your will, you followed simon to the kitchen where he sat you down at the table whilst he rummaged through some cupboards.

“okay, so please explain to me how long this has been going on for and why you never told me!” he exclaimed, and you immediately hushed him, reminding him of everyone’s presence nearby.

you sighed, “i’ve just always thought he was cute and i guess i have had a little crush on him for a while now... but you cannot tell him!”

“i’m not going to, but you have to tell him! it’s not like you’re in love with him or anything,” simon said and turned back around to face you. you sheepishly grinned at him before closing your eyes and bringing your hands to your temples, giving him a little time to process your silent answer.

“oh my god! you’re in love!” simon happily concluded and you cringed in return. you were about to speak up when you saw simon’s face turning pale, his eyes full of shock, staring behind you. you turned around in your chair, following his gaze towards the door opening, revealing harry standing against the doorpost. your heart faltered but you quickly composed yourself, giving him a tight lipped smile.

“hey guys, uh, i was just checking if everything was okay?” harry asked concerned. “how long have you been standing there?” you asked in reply, and he looked to the ground before meeting your eyes again.

“like, 2 seconds. are you okay? you look a little pale,” harry walked over towards you and sat down next to you, your heart speeding up immediately.

”yeah! no totally. we were just getting some snacks. want any?” you shoved a bag of crisps in front of his face, quickly shooting simon a silent ‘help’.

harry’s giggle made you turn back to face him, whilst he pushed the crisps out of his face. “i’m good, thank you,” he smiled at you. a few seconds passed of the two of you just fondly looking at each other when simon accidentally opened up a bag of crisps a bit too loud, ruining the moment. well, the moment your mind was tricking you into happening, because you were just friends with harry, nothing else.

you opened your mouth to say something and closed it again, breaking eye contact with harry and standing up to open some random cupboards (which simon definitely already checked whilst you were in conversation a second ago). “uh, well we’ll just be back in a second then harry, if you don’t mind,” you said, your back facing him.

a second passed and you heard an almost unnoticeable sigh escape his lips when he stood up from his chair and answered, “alright, in a bit.”

you made sure to stay faced away from him until you heard the door click and turned around to look at simon angrily. “that was way too close. thanks for that, loser. i hate you so much,” you jokingly frowned at him, making him laugh out loud.

-

after bringing back some food to the rest of your friends, the night continued just like it had before. except, this time, you weren’t the only one who knew you liked harry. and simon was getting on your nerves.

he was trying to convince you harry liked you back, but you weren’t going to fall for that. you didn’t want to get your hopes up for nothing anyway.

“you have to tell him! i never realised it, but i’m like ninety nine percent sure he’s into you too. everything just makes sense now. his body language and everything-“ simon said and you rolled your eyes, cutting him off, “okay doctor phil you’re taking this too far now. can we please stop talking about this?”

before simon could tell you no, your conversation luckily got cut off shortly. “hey guys can we play like some drinking game? truth or dare? i’m bored,” cal suddenly groaned out in frustration, and everyone else shrugged in response, down for whatever he had in mind.

“i’ll get the booze, can someone put on some music? no one’s watching tv anyway,” josh answered, and tobi went over to control the speakers.

once everyone’s cups were filled, everyone sat down in a circle, and you somehow ended up in between harry and simon (how’s that happened then?). who wants to start us off?” vik asked, and simon jumped in from your right, “i’ll ask someone first,” he grinned, and looked you in the eye, “truth or dare?”

your nervously wiped your sweaty hands onto your jeans and answered, mentally preparing yourself for whatever simon was planning on doing. “i’ll go with a truth.” “have you ever had a crush on anyone in this room?” simon smirked, and you felt your cheeks heat up in response. “i- uhm- yeah,” you answered softly, and everyone erupted in ‘oooohs’. you made sure not to meet harry’s eye and sent daggers to simon instead. “who was it then?” ethan asked, and you shook your head, “only one question allowed! so, moving on,” you grinned, gaining confidence again. “ethan, truth or dare?”

-

a few more rounds went by and people - including you - were getting more drunk by the second. simon had just told you harry had been sneaking glances at you the entire night, even though you had been avoiding looking him into the eye. his presence alone made your knees weak. so you downed your drink, even though you hadn’t been dared to do so or whatever. you needed this right now.

and that’s when things got interesting. “harry, if you were to kiss anyone in this room, who would it be and why?” vik asked harry and your head snapped up to look at simon who met your eyes at the exact same time.

“oh, i- uh i don’t know if i wanna answer that, you know,” you slowly turned to your left and looked at harry’s rosy cheeks. harry met your eye for an unnoticeable split second, looked away, and quickly downed his entire drink.

the circle once again erupted in ‘ooohs’ and ‘what are you hiding?’. harry shook his head, “i just- no. moving on, please!” he said with a sloppy, drunk grin on his face.

he put his arm around your shoulder and said, “i feel like you have barely even been asked any truth or dares! so, what’s it gonna be?” he smiled.

you could feel your heart beating in your chest just by his friendly touch. “let’s go for a dare,” you gulped under his intriguing gaze. he seemed to be in deep thought for a second and snapped out of it by saying “i can’t think of anything, guys help me out please.”

you sipped on your drink and looked over to jj, who suggested you give someone a lap dance, which you absolutely refused to do. “i’d rather do the stupid childish seven minutes in heaven than that!” you said, and immediately regretted it, when simon winked at you. “seven minutes in heaven it is!” simon giggled, “any volunteers?”

when no one answered, simon picked jj, and you looked at him with wide eyes. the two of you stood up when harry suddenly stopped jj, “i’ll go instead, if that’s okay with you?” he searched your eyes for an answer, and you nodded shyly. “alright, see you in seven minutes, have fun!” jj suggestively yelled after the two of you.

-

maybe it was the large amount of alcohol in your system or the way harry was looking at you, but you felt your heart beating in your chest ten times faster than usual. the two of you were stood close inside the smallest room of the house in which you could still hear tobi’s music playing softly. both of you were feeling dizzy and warm inside.

you decided to break the silence by asking him the question that was on your mind ever since you stood up, “why did you volunteer after all?”

harry met your eyes, grinned, and nervously looked to the floor, “i just don’t want you in here with jide, you know how he can be.”

“jj and i are friends, he’s always just joking around and would never do anything i wouldn’t want him to do, you know that right?” you frowned at him, making him look up to you.

he sighed and brushed a hand through his hair, making it look even messier than before. “i guess i just couldn’t imagine anyone else in this room with you other than me.”

the dim light in the room was the only thing lighting up the features on both of your faces, but it was enough to help you realise harry wasn’t lying. “harry?” you breathed out carefully. you remained silent, admiring all his features from up close, your eyes looking at his lips and back to his eyes.

in response he raised his chin and studied your face. somehow, he ended up inching even closer towards you, noses almost touching. “hi,” you croaked out softly.

harry smirked and answered, “hey. have i ever told you how pretty you are?” you rolled your eyes and laughed in return. “stop saying things that make me want to kiss you,” you said, your eyes widening after you realised what you had just said.

harry’s breath audibly got stuck in his throat, his eyes searching your face, and eventually locking onto your lips. he moved a piece of your hair behind your ear and softly grabbed your jaw, moving your lips onto his.

your heart was racing and your hands found their way into harry’s hair, kissing him back like your life depended on it. never in a million years did you expect this to happen.

you pulled away after a minute to take a fresh breath of air. still panting, you looked at harry and smiled, whilst he smiled right back at you.

“you’re drunk,” you told him. “so are you,” he answered. “you’re the only one who will regret this in the morning though,” you frowned.

his whole face became soft, and he shook his head, “if you hadn’t noticed before, i’ve been in love with you for ages. i just thought you secretly liked simon or whatever, uh, yeah. i thought i never stood a chance with you anyway. you’re out of my league, too!”

you kissed him again in response, and pulled away only to answer, “i didn’t want to ruin our friendship, and i was so sure you weren’t interested. simon found out tonight and we were talking about you when you walked into the kitchen. i can’t believe this is happening.”

“neither can i, but i am glad it finally is,” he smiled at you, sparkle in his eyes, and went back to kissing you softly.

the two of you forgot about everything whilst being in each other’s presence, the seven minutes passing by quicker than any of you wanted, and soon enough the door to the room you were in opened, revealing jj. you pulled away from harry quickly, giving jj a sincere but awkward smile. harry ruffled his messy hair and looked jj up and down. “time is up! looks like you had fun,” he grinned.

none of you answered, and you bit your lip, awkwardly waiting for someone to say something. “so should we get back or...?” jj asked impatiently, and you looked at harry, who nodded at him.

harry grabbed your hand and gave you a quick smile, following jj back to the party.

the rest of the night, you remained next to harry’s side, giving each other soft and genuine smiles. everyone noticed how close the two of you were (and how both of your lips were red and plump), but no one decided to comment on it. and neither did you. after all, it was only the beginning of something great, and all it took was one dare.

[icecoldflames]

The Pinnae Flower Epilogue

Masterlist

Patton-ly Perfect was filled with customers and, honestly, Roman loved it. So many people marvelling at the decor and the various pastries behind the counters.

Patton was currently out so Breena was managing the cash and the customers.

After Fairy Cakes and Fantasy Books went bankrupt Patton offered her the job here. Roman liked to joke that his and Logan’s frequent visits there were the only reason the old cafe stayed afloat and, now that they lived in Mayflower Town, the cafe’s main source of income was gone.

Along with Breena came the hundreds of books from her shelves which were now displayed outside her new house in a Free Little Library. But it wasn’t all that little.

Roman saw Virgil in his usual spot and walked over, draping his arms over his shoulders. “Hello, love.”

Even though Roman couldn’t see his face, he could sense the smile on his face. “I swear, Roman. If you ask one more time about the ending of PS, I might smack you across the head.”

Roman pouted and took a seat across from Virgil. “Aw, c’mon.”

Virgil tried to give Roman a glare but failed miserably. Instead, he ended up barking out a laugh. “I want it to be a surprise for everyone. Including you. Besides, have you forgotten what day today is?”

Roman pretended to be hurt by Virgil’s statement. “You think I would forget such an important day? A day that wouldn’t be possible without you?”

Virgil rolled his eyes, still grinning. “Shouldn’t you be setting up for that?”

“We’ve got it all drafted and set. It’s ready to go.” Roman said, waving his hand. “We’re doing a theory about Lewis.” He wiggled his eyebrows.

“Roman!” Logan’s voice called out from the doorway of Patton-ly Perfect. “Come here for a moment! Tell Virgil you won’t be long!”

Before Roman could open his mouth to ask, Virgil waved his hand. “Go on. Anyway, you know what they say: bros before h—“

“—That doesn’t count with us as you’re both male. Everyone’s my bro. Except you’re my boyfriend too.” Roman added in before striding over to where Logan was.

Logan was wearing a black button up and a blue tie with diagonal stripes. His hair looked recently brushed and he was nervously playing with his fingers.

“Looking sharp!” Roman commented as he neared Logan. “Looking very fine indeed.”

“I don’t know how you went on a first date without feeling nervous like this. I don’t get nervous often.” Logan muttered, pushing up his glasses.

Roman just patted Logan on the shoulder. “I was nervous. I’m just the better actor and was able to hide it. Anyway, it’s good that you’re feeling nervous. It means you actually like Patton.”

“What? I’ve always liked Patton and never felt this nervous in my entire life!” Logan said, fixing his sleeves.

Roman grabbed Logan’s wrists and forcefully pushed them down to his sides. “Talk to me. Maybe it’ll calm you down a bit.”

Logan nodded and coughed. “Very well I suppose. Did you hear about Jo?”

“Of course! Why wouldn’t I? Serves her right, to be honest. Karma is a bi—“

Logan rolled his eyes. “I just wish Virgil would have stepped forward.”

Roman shrugged. “Jo would have gotten what she deserved whether Virgil said something or not.”

“You know Virgil can’t stay hidden behind a pseudonym forever, right?” Logan suddenly said. “Jo figured it out. This is just the beginning.”

Roman bit his bottom lip. “Virgil and I have talked about this before too. Virgil said he’s been thinking about it long before Jo figured him out. He’s planning on how to break it to the fandom and press soon. He thinks maybe after Pinnae: Spelunca is released.”

“Good on him.” Logan nodded.

Roman smiled. “Alright, you look a lot less nervous! Now go get ‘em, Lo!” He exclaimed loudly and pushed Logan in the direction of Patton’s house.

When Roman could no longer see Logan ambling down the street, he made his way back inside the cafe to Virgil.

“Do you think the date will go okay?” Virgil asked as Roman slid into his seat. He didn’t look up from his screen.

Roman nodded, stealing part of a raspberry muffin Virgil had bought.

“I think everything will be okay.”

~~~

Pinnae: Spelunca

WARNING: SPOILERS FOR THE NEWEST PINNAE BOOK, PINNAE: SPELUNCA

Can I just say that Raz really outdid themself on this one? I mean, this book made me cry, it made me want to smack some characters, it made me laugh out loud.

I loved it so much. It might be my favourite out of the series, knocking Pinnae: The New Era down to number two.

I loved how it took us back in time to the timeline of Pinnae: Magus and Pinnae: Exsul where Arel and Parisa are on opposing sides of the upcoming war. It’s like, if PM and PE are on opposite sides of the spectrum, PS is the middle zone where both sides are right and both sides are wrong.

So many plot points have been solved thanks to this book and, boy, am I freaking out over them. They are just perfect and they make so much sense. Let’s go over four of the main ones.

Number 1. Why the dragons stole the pinnae flower. We always knew the dragons stole it from the previous books but never why. But now we know that it was to keep the fairies and sprites from starting a war. However, they obviously failed as we can see in PTNE. Case closed.

Number 2. The importance of the pinnae flower. Logan and I had always assumed this last book would be dark but not like this. The pinnae flower being made of the wings of fairies turned sprites? Totally uncalled for. I almost hated King Oberon in this. I was this close. Until it was revealed that ol’ buddy Oberon had no idea of the whole cut off wings thing and that it was his father who did everything and who cut off Queen Titania’s (then, Princess Titania’s) wings. Can I say that that chapter was absolutely devastating? Can I blame Queen Titania for kind of wanting the pinnae flower to see if she could ever reattach her wings? In any case, case closed.

Number 3. SIDNEY’S DEATH. Hallelujah! Sidney’s mysterious death is solved. I know that his death is controversial because it was on accident. Pinnies think the death was a cop out and that Sidney deserved a more grand death than the one given to him. Personally, though, his death is, however sad, is perfect. It’s just that Sidney could possibly still be alive if Kaida had just been less prideful and practiced aiming just a little more when she had the chance. Again, case closed.

Number 4. The cloak. Sidney’s darned cloak. The thing that split the fandom up since the very beginning of the series. What was beneath Sidney’s cloak? Was there even anything under there? Was Sidney just being dramatic and trying to look mysterious and cool? Well now, we’ve got our answer, folks. Wings. Yes, wings. Sidney the Sprite was actually Sidney the Fairy all along. The secret agent go-between between the fairies and the sprites and ultimately working for the dragons. His secret beneath the cloak is so simple yet so perfect. Again, no one expected it. But this one wasn’t controversial. And another case closed.

These were four of my favourite plot resolutions in this final instalment of the Pinnae series. I’m just gonna go cry in my bed for a month or so. What am I going to do now that the Pinnae series is officially finished and done? What am I to do when all the theories have been theorized and there are no more left? Just kidding. Logan and I will never run out of theories.

Also, can I just say that I would literally die protecting Aeni and her sunflower patch? Raise your hand if you’d like to start a Aeni protection squad.

And, until next time, take it easy guys, gals, and non-binary pals.

PEACE OUT!

[neshabeingchildish]

Hello Stranger.

A few different things went into the creation of this fic. One was a request: “A story 10 years in the future. Henry has not seen or communicated with Charlotte in years. His best friend, Jasper sets him up on a blind date with an old friend.” Another was a chat with the fandom bestie about various ideas we both have the mind for but not necessarily the time for. But, what really made me definitely go for it/make the time for this one was me rewatching Moonlight and remembering the classic goodie that is Hello Stranger by Barbara Lewis. It’s not very long and I don’t have the time to make it longer, so hopefully, it’s enjoyable.

Hello Stranger.

Jasper knocked on Henry’s door and wondered, “Are you cancelling the date?” 

Henry was literally in his boxers with a bowl of Frittles and about to turn on the Dog Judge marathon on the classics channel. “Ohhh… Yeah… I guess, I am!” He reached for his phone to text Jasper’s friend, but Jasper snatched the phone and texted instead, So sorry! Running late. Will definitely be there. “There! She’s expecting you to be a little late. Let’s get you dressed, now!” He took the bowl, much to Henry’s dismay and pulled him up by the wrists.

“Dude, just because you just got engaged doesn’t mean I need to go on a date!”

“No, it doesn’t. But, you’re certainly not gonna cancel a surprise date that I worked my butt off to arrange for you to sit in your underwear eating chips!”

“Some people would kill to have that option…” Henry complained. Jasper was hearing none of it. This was probably the best date that Henry would ever have. He had been sinking more and more into his work and becoming numb in every other area of his life. He barely noticed when Jasper stopped coming home, when Jasper fell in love, and when Jasper got around to being so involved with his partner that he was now engaged and getting ready to plan the rest of his life. He hardly even seemed to care when Jasper told him. He’d simply said, “Okay, well, I can move into the gift shop. That office in the back has room for a little bed.”

No! Jasper didn’t want to see his best friend die, a sad, lonely old man, or worse… Be a soulless manbaby like Ray Manchester. He wanted to see him happy and in love, or at least among a friend or two. It couldn’t be Jasper, right now. He would do what he could, but planning a wedding, contemplating children, and selecting a family dog were all his top priorities for now… If only he could get his worries off of Henry’s lack of a social life. So, he set him up on a blind date with an old friend and wanted it to be a surprise to the both of them.

His plan - to get them there to meet up and then voila! Seeing each other should do the rest. But, he didn’t want too much anticipation, so he just referred to them as “A friend that I think you’d like,” and gave them contact numbers and got them to text what they would be wearing. Now, Henry was so disinterested in this date that he forgot it was even happening; nevermind what she was supposed to be wearing! But, Jasper searched the text and found Henry’s outfit to fit the description… But it was “like a flannel shirt or plaid or something and jeans and boots.” Jasper rolled his eyes. 

But her response had been, “Okay. Sounds casual. Then, I’ll have maybe a floral blouse and khaki shorts. I’ll throw a flower in my hair in case the place is riddled with cutiepies in khaki.”

Jasper wiped his face, “It’s like neither of them even want to do this.”

.

Charlotte was already at the bar, with a virgin drink in a coconut. If Jasper’s little friend was gonna be all casual and stuff, she decided on a pretty casual place, but one with great ambience that wasn’t too far from her house, in case he was a loser. He was friends with Jasper, so… She chuckled and shook her head. That wasn’t nice. Besides, you dated him! But, that was ages ago. She and Jasper. And, it was honestly unexpected and probably just a move of convenience. They’d just gotten so close being in the background of all of Kid Danger’s things… She smiled to herself. Kid Danger. Henry Hart… Now, what the heck was HE up to?

She wondered if he’d kept in touch with Jasper. He certainly hadn’t kept in touch with her. She hadn’t seen or spoken to Henry in 10 years, despite all of those “friends always” declarations they’d made over the years as friends. It was surprising to her, but she got it. The guy was a superhero. Keeping in touch couldn’t be easy. She wasn’t even a hero and even keeping in touch with Jasper had been difficult for her, especially in the past few years. Engaged??? That was bonkers to her. He was probably still a great guy and all, but that somebody was ready to marry him forever… That was… Incredible. 

“Charlotte Page?” She heard a voice say and she turned and SPEAK of the Devil!

“Henry Hart?” her face brightened and she smiled and said, “Wow! HI! Good to see you!” She reached for a hug. “What are you doing here?” She asked. Then, she winced a little. It’s a bar and grill. He’s probably here for dinner, ya gunch!

Well, he didn’t want to say that he was meeting a date. In fact… Now, he didn’t want to meet his date! In fact… He had to cancel that date and Jasper would just have to be mad at him later. Charlotte obviously noticed his hesitation and filled in the space with her own plans, “I’m uh… I’m meeting someone for dinner, but I think he’s running late, if you wanna try to catch up for a bit?”

“Yeah. I do. I’d love that. I’ve just gotta run to the bathroom and wash my hands, then I’ll be right back to see what the ever-beautiful Charlotte Page is up to these days.” Henry rushed off and she smiled at his retreating back, noticing that he was in plaid and jeans. Wait… She took her phone out to check the text, because that was pretty much what her Jasper date was supposed to be wearing, and that would be quite the coincidence if… Hey. It’s Jasper’s friend. So sorry. Something really important came up and I can’t make it. Hopefully you have a great night though. She looked suspicious. More and more, this was looking like… She saw Henry returning, and tossed her phone into her bag and tried not to drool over him. 

He looked good. Like really good. And… his plaid was gone. Why was his shit gone? He just had on a t-shirt now. “Spilled water on myself, like an idiot and had to ditch my shirt,” he said. 

She laughed at that. “How do you spill water on yourself washing your hands?”

“I actually remembered that I had to wash my face too and also brush my teeth…”

“How and why would you even leave your home without doing that?” She asked, pretty disgusted.

“Enough about me! What’s up with you? You look good. You said that you’re meeting somebody?”

“Yeah. Well, not anymore. My schedule has freed, so - you wanna be my date tonight?” As soon as it came forth from her lips, she regretted it and tried to correct herself, “Not like date, but you know, like a date, an old friend date or whatever… Not… It doesn’t have to be a date, but…”

“I’d love to be your date,” he said, cutting her off and beckoning the bartender over. “What are you drinking? Something girly?”

“Something fruity and alcohol free.”

“No drinking for Ms. Page?”

“Not while I’m on a date. It hinders the decision making portion of the brain.”

“You won’t be obnoxious about it if I order a drink, will you?”

“Absolutely not. I do find it harder to trust people’s words and actions when they’ve hindered the decision making portion of their brain, but a great deal of my business happens because of those types of mistakes.”

“Morbid. What kind of doctor are you?”

She laughed, “What makes you think that I’m a doctor?”

“Well, I remember that you were going to go into engineering or medicine. I just haven’t talked to you enough to know which direction you went in.”

“Well, I was an engineering major, but I changed halfway through college. Never EVER bring that up to my parents, because they are both still pissed at me, to this day! I had gone through a bad breakup and my ex was top of our class and in the same field. I wanted both some distance and a change, so I let her have that world and I dove head first into political science.”

“Her? Your ex was a her?” Henry asked smiling.

“Grow up, Henry. People should connect at soul.”

“No, I agree. I just didn’t know. I knew you and Jasper dated in college. I thought that was pretty funny.”

“I don’t know if I like the word funny to describe that. It was definitely not perfect, but Jasper will always have a special place in my heart. He’s a good friend and he was a good boyfriend. He just wasn’t one for a long journey.”

“One for a long journey?” The bartender came and Henry said, “Yeah, I just need a licorice soda with a lime.” She grimaced at that order. That sounded disgusting. But, he went back to the conversation, “What is one for a long journey?”

Charlotte smiled and said, “Well… I don’t believe in eternity. I don’t believe in soul mates. I don’t believe in ‘the one.’”

“Great date topic.”

“Don’t interrupt. What I do believe is that individuals evolve and develop and the people that we interact with add to and take away from our lives, in order for us to become our best selves. We have to use every connection that we have as a means to grow. People are there so that we can take a journey together that nobody else is equipped to take with us. Sometimes the journey is short. Mine and Jasper’s was because we were friends stepping out into a bright new world and scared shitless. We needed support and wanted romantic connection in the meantime. It was great for what we both needed at the time. He helped me to relax when I was stressed and I helped him to take things seriously. It flowed until neither of us were getting what we wanted or needed and both of us knew that the journey had ended. But, then I met someone who… if I did believe in soul mates, she could have been that… But, a couple of years later, I realized that even though it was a longer journey than Jasper’s, it wasn’t an endless journey. I also realized that my journey needed a detour.”

“All of that is so over my head. Basically what I heard is that you love being in love but it's being committed that you’re unsure of.”

“You heard a different monologue than I gave, I assure you,” she laughed. “I am very committed, as a friend, a lover, or a business associate. My trustworthy reputation is how I keep clients.”

“You never told me what you do! You went into political science… Wait! Are you a lawyer?”

She smiled and said, “I thought about it, but I wound up working as a political analyst after becoming popularized by my commentary on social media and ran out of the time and energy for law school. I did eventually take the bar exam in a state that lets you do that without finishing law school, but I only did that to say that I did it.” She laughed.

“Same overachieving Char. So, you built an online rep and wound up doing well.”

“Yep. I went into crisis management a couple of years ago and recently started my own firm.”

“Crisis management…”

“Like what Olivia Pope does, but not as sensational… or as dangerous. Though, I have definitely gotten death threats…”

Henry suddenly looked alarmed and went into protective mode, “From who? They ever find them?”

She laughed and said, “Calm down, Hero. No need to blow a bubble tonight… Is that still how you do it?” She wondered. He raised an eyebrow and finally got his soda. “You know what? After 10 years, it's totally inappropriate of me to wonder about that part of your life. I’m sorry I asked.”

“No. It’s alright. I mean… I always presumed that you knew I was still working.”

“I am definitely a Captain Danger fangirl,” she said and blushed slightly.

“He’s alright.”

“Not according to my research. He’s expanded outside of Swellview, Bordertown, Neighborville, Rivalton, and I heard that he might be looking to expand even as far as Metroburg.”

“Jasper’s not supposed to be telling people stuff, Man.”

“He’s really bad at secrets when it comes to me, but he did good this time. I had no idea that he was setting this up.”

“Setting what up?”

“...This date. Didn’t Jasper send you here to meet up with a friend of his tonight?”

“Yeah… Wait… That was you???”

“Yeah. You totally ditched me tonight to go on a date with a more charming, hotter woman.”

Henry was bright red in the face. “I am so sorry! Why didn’t he just say that he wanted us to meet up? He knows I hate blind dates.”

“Maybe he didn’t think you’d want to see me. Last time we talked, it was pretty… uncertain how things would go. Then, we never talked again. Whenever we were dating, he would always ask, ‘Have you and Henry still not talked?’ and I’d tell him that you never call.”

“You never called, either.”

“I didn’t think it should be up to me. You were the one who was angry. I gave you space. I guess Jasper decided it was too much space.”

“Jasper decided that he didn’t want to see me move onto a cot in office of the florist and gift shop that I opened a floor above Junk n’ Stuff, because that’s what I intend to do since my roommate is getting married and it’d be a dick move to try to get him to move out of our apartment.”

“Jasper and Donovan are not moving into that apartment. They’ve got a house.”

“Jasper and Donovan have a house?”

“Donovan has a house and they’ll expect Jasper to move in, I’m sure…” She squinted her eyes and reminded him, “You know that Donovan’s pronouns are they, their, them?”

“Right. I do know that. Because, I was definitely told that. And I definitely can’t determine outside of that who Donovan might be.”

“You are borderline being transphobic. Donovan is nonbinary and they look androgynous, but anything beyond that is quite frankly none of our business.”

“I wasn’t being phobic. I just never really got a chance to be around this person much and now Jasper is marrying them? Like… Where did the time go? Where did my friends go?” He blinked a little and Charlotte reached out and held his hand. He looked at their hands, then into her eyes.

“Whoever you need on your journey will definitely be in your path whenever you do need them.” She smiled and squeezed his hand, “It feels good to be back…. You want to order something to eat?” His thumb caressed her skin and he nodded. She grabbed the menu that had been sitting in front of her this entire time and said, “I heard this place had a rockin’ jackfruit menu.”

“Jackfruit? They have a tomahawk steak called the Hunk o’ Cow… It’s like… It’s the best thing I’ve ever eaten.”

“I’m not eating a hunk of cow. Oooh, I see the jackfruit menu. This jackfruit poke bowl sounds good.”

“It absolutely does not!” 

.

After dinner, Henry walked Charlotte to her car and she was unsure if they should hug it out, kiss, if she should invite him to her place, ask to come to his… “Hey… I had a really great time. If this was a date with anyone else, I might wonder if they would like a nightcap. Me and you… There’s just so much history in the air. But, if you’re fine with us taking a different journey than we initially had before, my place isn’t far.”

Henry wrapped his hands around Charlotte’s waist and pulled her to himself for a hug. He felt her shiver in his touch and as much as he enjoyed that, she was right. There was a lot of history there and in his opinion, not nearly as much catching up as he needed in order to let his guard down with her yet. “That sounds amazing, but maybe another time? I definitely want some kind of journey with you. Just… Maybe a slow one, if that’s okay?” 

She smiled and nodded. “Of course it is.” She gave him a kiss on the cheek and got into her car. “You have my number now. Call me. Don’t wait ten years.” 

“You kidding. You might be stuck on a very long journey with me, now.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time,” she said and winked. “It was really good to see you, Hen.” She started her car and this song began to play on the satellite station she had on. She heard the words and wondered if that was some kind of sign as she drove home. 

[littlereyofsunlight]

When the Holiday Spirit’s True

My Steggy Secret Santa gift for @lavellenchanted for the @steggyfanevents exchange. Happy happy and merry merry—I hope you enjoy the story AND have a wonderful 2019!

**

And these are the gifts we keep And this is the morning that we breathe And then we see These moments are the only gifts we need — In the Morning, Jack Johnson

**

“A penguin costume?” Peggy frowned down at the note Lillian handed her. “Whatever for?”

“Christmas pageant, Mummy!” Lillian replied, turning back to her after school snack.

“I’m quite certain there were no penguins present for the birth of Jesus, darling.” Peggy chewed on the inside of her bottom lip, thinking. “Still, your father should be able to sort you out something suitable.”

Later that evening, as Peggy worked through her backlog of emails from the Thanksgiving break, she overheard their precocious daughter in conversation with Steve.

“I’m gonna be a penguin, Dad.”

“Is that so?” Steve’s reply seemed a little distant. There was a splash and a gurgle in the background. Bathtime for Hal, then. “Why do you want to be a penguin?”

A beat. Peggy could imagine the look on Lily’s face as she thought through her response; their daughter was a little copy of Steve. “Well actually, the roles were assigned by Ms. Beckman and Mr. Lewis.” Another pause. “And penguin is better than a reindeer’s bottom.”

Splash. “Oh, sorry, buddy.” Steve apologized as the baby gave a shocked cry at the water Steve had no doubt surprised him with. “Lily, could you start again? Why did your teachers assign you the role of penguin?”

Lily’s long-suffering sigh was a scarily accurate copy of Peggy’s. “For the Christmas pageant, Daddy,” she explained, patience wearing thin, judging by her tone of voice.

“Christmas pageant?” Steve repeated, his own voice sharpening in that way Peggy knew foretold an oncoming rant.

“Yes, Dad, the Christmas pageant. There are reindeer and penguins and elves and we sing Silent Night and Jingle Bells and Come Y’All Faith-fool—”

“Come All Ye Faithful?”

“—and at the end Mr. Lewis comes out dressed like Santa.”

“Do you sing any other songs?”

“The big kids are singing.”

“What are they singing?”

“I don’t know, big kids songs.”

“Are they all about Christmas?”

“Yep.”

“Nothing about other holidays? Maybe Hanukkah?”

“What’s that?”

Steve, it turned out, was getting pretty good at that patented sigh as well. Peggy tuned him out as he explained the holiday to Lillian while finishing Hal’s bath. These emails weren’t going to reply to themselves, and she would need to nurse Hal soon.

Much later, after Lillian’s bedtime routine and another round of quieting fussy baby Hal back to sleep, Peggy’s eyelids were closed before she’d even crawled fully under the covers.

Steve cleared his throat as he tossed his balled-up socks into the hamper.

“If you put them through the wash and dryer that way, you’ll end up with damp sock balls in the fresh laundry.” She still hadn’t opened her eyes.

Peggy heard Steve move over to the hamper and pick out his socks. “Did you know about this?”

“I’ve been dealing with your socks for seven years, yes.”

That sigh again, as he sat heavily on his side of the bed. The mattress dipped and heaved, signs that Steve was arranging a mountain of pillows to sit up against. They were going to have a chat before she could sleep, it seemed. “Did you know about the Christmas pageant at Lily’s school?”

Peggy rolled over and looked at him, his handsome face so grave despite the subject matter. “She handed me a note about needing a penguin costume this afternoon.”

“And you’re okay with this?”

She blinked. What there was to not be okay with, she wasn’t sure.

He went on. “I know for a fact that several of Lily’s classmates practice faiths that don’t celebrate Christmas. This sounds exclusionary. All the songs they’re singing are Christmas songs. Some of them are hymns!”

“I’m not following, darling. Christmas seems like the dominant holiday this time of year.” Steve had been off on a mission just before Halloween, and by the time Peggy had realized she needed to get Lily a costume, half the stores had already switched to Christmas gear. Lilian had stoutly refused to go as one of Santa’s elves, resulting in a rather madcap dash across several neighborhood Duane Reades in search of the desired princess dress. Initially she’d wanted to go as Black Widow, but Peggy drew a line at catsuits on six year-olds.

“We send our child to a public school.”

“...I’m aware.” If he kept her up much later, Peggy would need to dig up some of those luxe under-eye masks Pepper had gifted her just to feel presentable in the morning.

Steve’s voice reached new levels of incredulous. “Separation of church and state?!”

Oh. “How very American,” she replied, a bit frosty.

*

But Steve was like a dog with a bone. Now that he had an inkling of how Christmas had taken over the entire month of December, he kept uncovering new traditions to be upset over.

One night he bolted up from his laptop, eyes wide. “This is madness!”

Peggy was nursing Hal (Peggy was always nursing Hal.) “Hmm?” She glanced up from the tablet perched precariously on her knee so she could skim a mission report.

“Did Lily tell you about the Elf on a Shelf?” Steve was using his Captain America voice already, and whenever he put that voice on at home, Peggy almost wished for another ten repeats of Baby Shark with their daughter belting along off-key.

“No, darling,” she said, deftly juggling baby and technology so Hal was at her other breast. “Is it a new television program?”

He narrowed his eyes at her. “I thought we agreed we’d limit her screen time.”

“So we did. What’s this Elf business, then?” Peggy tried to smile but then the baby made use of the tooth that had broken through just the other day.

Steve ignored her gasp of pain, building up a head of steam. “It seems most of her classmates wake up each morning to find this doll in a different spot, getting into some kind of trouble, as a reminder from Santa to be good.”

Peggy frowned. “That doesn’t sound right.” Hal was dozing off, so she motioned for Steve to swap with her. Her heart swelled briefly as she watched him cradle their son in his big hands. His spoiling-for-a-fight face softened as he looked down into Hal’s milk-drunk eyes, a shade lighter than Peggy’s, cinnamon rather than chocolate.

She took the proffered laptop and scanned the site Steve had been reading. “These are so elaborate!” She looked back at Steve. “Who has time to do all this?”

Steve tore his gaze from Hal’s face. “Peggy, this is just priming children to accept living in a surveillance state!”

Peggy shook her head, scrolling through the list of ideas, with photos illustrating the scenarios. “Those are teeny-tiny flapjacks. I can barely feed myself and our children, now I’ll have to feed an elf?”

An angry gurgle made Hal sound as though he was agreeing with one or both of his parents. But then he spit up all down Steve’s shirt, so the conversation was shelved.

*

On a video conference call at headquarters one afternoon, Peggy’s assistant interrupted her with something akin to semaphore or interpretive dance from the doorway of her office.

“Pardon me, Secretary General Guterres, it seems I’m needed urgently. I trust we can continue this conversation before the next assembly?” Peggy smiled and thanked the former prime minister before signing off.

Quinn stood there, wringing their hands. “Ms. Carter, I’m sorry to intrude—”

Peggy could feel her blood pressure rising. “And yet you have, so it better be life and death.” She heard their gulp from across the room.

“Well, ma’am, it’s your husband.”

She shot out of her chair. “Steve’s not on assignment, he took the month off.” She jabbed blindly at her phone, pressing the receiver to her ear with a shaky hand.

“No, ma’am, he’s not…” Quinn’s response faded from her hearing as the call connected and Peggy heard Steve’s cell ringing.

Peggy’s annoyance overtook her relief like a lion bringing down a sick gazelle. “If he took on something at the last minute without bloody clearing it with me, I swear to Christ—” There were any number of situations the organization had been monitoring over the last few weeks that could have blown up spectacularly, or certainly would, if Captain America chose to insert himself.

“Peggy?” Steve’s greeting sounded especially guilty, which only enraged her further.

“What have you done, you great impulsive pratt, what ridiculous endeavor has your god-complex led you to now?”

There was a moment of strained silence on the other end of the line, but Peggy didn’t hear gunfire or explosions or Clint Barton’s voice in the background, so that was slightly reassuring. Still, the utter gall of Steve to go running headlong into danger, with no thought to his wife or children at home.

Eventually, Steve found his voice. “God-complex?”

“Um, Director Carter?” Quinn had crept into the room and stood at her elbow, whispering.

“Out with it,” Peggy snapped, unclear whether she was speaking to her husband or her employee.

Quinn shrank back but managed to squeak out an answer. “Your daughter’s teachers wanted to speak with you about the emails Mr. Rogers keeps sending them about the holiday pageant.”

Peggy felt her eyes roll back into her head of their own accord. The Carter-Rogers family’s trademark sigh exploded from her lungs. “Steve.”

“Yes, love of my life?” She could picture the too-innocent look on his face just from his tone of voice.

Peggy counted to three, for all the good it did. “Have you left the tri-state area?”

“I am at our home in Brooklyn, with our children.” A faint “hello, Mummy!” sounded down the line. “Lily says hello.”

“Love and kisses,” she replied automatically.

“Did someone tell you I was somewhere else?”

Peggy raised an eyebrow at Quinn, who still stood there, pale-faced and sweating. “Not exactly. Now, what’s this about you emailing Lillian’s teachers?”

Another wary pause. “How much do you know?”

“I know we’ll need to come up with an extravagant offering, if they’re calling me to get you to back off.” Peggy leaned back in her chair and adjusted the waistband cutting into her stomach. “Honestly, Steve, you can’t dictate every aspect of our child’s education.”

Steve sniffed. “But I got them to add a Hanukkah song.”

“Well then, let’s say that’s the end of it, shall we? Give those poor young people a rest. Between you and Lillian, how are they to have any energy to deal with the rest of the class?”

“Okay,” Steve agreed, contrite. “I’ll drop it. For this year.”

That would have to do. “Excellent. Now if you’ll excuse me, Quinn and I need to review when it’s appropriate to interrupt calls with high-ranking members of international governing bodies.”

“Well, have a good afternoon. The kids and I can’t wait to have you home. Love you.”

“Likewise, darling,” Peggy replied. Then she hung up and turned the full force of her disappointed face on her assistant.

*

“Did you know that Immaculate Heart around the corner celebrates midnight Mass at ten pm?” Steve asked Peggy one afternoon as they folded the laundry side by side.

“I certainly did not,” she replied, focused on pairing Hal’s tiny socks. He’d soon grow out of them, and no part of him would ever be as small as he was now. Her baby was already so much bigger than when he’d been born. Soon enough, Hal wouldn’t be her baby any more. She closed her eyes against a sudden rush of tears.

Steve shook out a fitted sheet and handed two corners to Peggy without looking at her. They both stepped back and quickly tucked their corners, paired sides and folded in half, then quarters, then eighths. Steve smoothed out the wrinkles on the top fold, shaking his head. “I knew everything was going to be different from the moment I first came back.”

He put the sheet onto the linens pile. “But the thing of it is, the differences never stop. Every time I think I’ve gotten the hang of living now, something comes up to put me right back at square one.” He took up one of Lily’s tees, running his fingers over the puffy letters on the front that proclaimed her a “future engineer/princess” whenever she wore it. “I know we don’t go to church.” He folded the shirt, turning it into a tiny square of glittery fabric in his hands. “But going to Mass with Ma was one of our few Christmas traditions.”

Peggy stopped folding to look at Steve. “Darling,” she said, putting a hand on his arm. “We can go, of course we can go.”

His eyes were shining when he looked up at her, the corner of his mouth quirked up in what might have been a smile. “Nah.” He scratched his nose. “If I can’t put Lily through three hours of mind-numbingly unintelligible Latin, what’s the point? And if Hal’s there, we run the risk of a dirty diaper smell combining with the incense into some kind of chemical weapon.”

Peggy laughed with him, but noted the way the corners of his eyes stayed tight. “Well, I could go with you, anyhow. It’s been a few years, but I bet I can still follow along all right.”

That earned her a real smile, at least.

*

Peggy contemplated, not for the first time, whether Natasha might be giving their daughter spy lessons. The cache of presents in the crawl space above the master closet seemed untouched, but as Lily had found every other hiding spot, Peggy wasn’t so sure that the little girl had just gotten better as covering her tracks. Her back twinged as she reached in to pull them down and she groaned.

“Peg? Everything okay?” Steve asked from the doorway, just back from his run.

She stepped gingerly down the ladder. “Could you please fetch the gifts at the back up there?” Peggy pressed her hands into the small of her back and stretched, feeling some of the tension release as she did. “Perhaps I’ll need to ask Santa for a massage,” she murmured to herself.

Steve handed down the packages to her while she admired the view of his back muscles in the too-tight workout gear he favored. As he came down with Lily’s final present in his hands, he puzzled over the tag. “From Santa?”

“Jolly old fellow, spreads Christmas cheer to good little girls and boys?” Peggy sorted through the other presents, checking the tape at the seams for signs of tampering.

He turned the box over in his hands. “Santa did stockings, at most, back in my day.”

Squinting at a tiny rip in the paper, Peggy didn’t catch the note in his voice. “Perhaps he has better funding these days, dear.” No, not a tear, a cut made by the associate at the store who’d wrapped the thing.

“Hold on, Peggy, is this the big castle she’s been begging us for?”

“That’s what we agreed on for her big gift, yes.”

“But you labelled it from Santa?”

Peggy concluded her inventory, satisfied that either Lily hadn’t sussed out this hiding spot, or that she was, in fact, exceptionally good at six year-old espionage. Either way, she could be proud. “I’m not following the thread, here, Steve. What is the problem?”

Steve’s eyebrows were drawn together on his forehead, his hands on his slim hips. “Peggy, we really shouldn’t be teaching our daughter that the most expensive gifts come from some man she doesn’t know. The big gift should be from us.”

She sat on the bed, suddenly very tired. “Well then you can write a new tag for the present, I don’t care.”

“I just want us to be mindful about the messages we’re sending.”

“Yes, and while you’re being mindful, and harassing the teachers, and raging against the commercialization of the season, I’m just trying to get through a bloody holiday without an international incident sidelining our plans!” Finally, it was Peggy’s turn to let loose. “You do so much for our family, Steve, but there’s even more you don’t know needs to be done! The teachers’ gifts and the scheduling and the gift wrapping that has to happen before the presents even come home, because our daughter is a super spy, plus trying to keep the mood festive even though you’ve been shitting over every aspect of the holiday this year.” 

She threw up her hands, too angry to even look at him. “Oh, not to mention the fact that I’m pregnant, Steve. Again. Hal isn’t even a year old, so well done, us. I’m tired all the time and hormonal and weepy and at this point, on Christmas Eve, I don’t even feel like celebrating. I hope you’re happy.” She marched into the ensuite bathroom and slammed the door behind her. She went to run a bath, but remembered she wasn’t supposed to soak in hot water, so she turned on the shower instead and sat down, breathing hard, as steam started to fill the room.

Steve knocked on the door. “Peggy?”

She didn’t respond, only picked up a brush and began running it through her hair.

“Peggy, I deserved that.” No Captain America voice now, just Steve, abashed and remorseful. “I’m sorry. I’m going to give you some time to cool down, but then I hope you’ll let me make it up to you.”

Peggy bit her lip, her resolve softening already.

“And Peggy?” She pictured him leaning against the jamb, the way he did many nights while she went through her toilette. “That’s great news about the baby. The best damn present you could have given me.”

Crying now, Peggy opened the door. “You have been an absolute shit, Rogers.”

He took her in his arms. “I have,” he agreed. She twined her arms around his neck. “I’ve been a real Grinch.” He held her close, and she rested her head on his shoulder, tears dripping on his shirt.

“I’m not sentimental over these sorts of things,“ she sniffed. “And I’ve come through hundred of high pressure situations before, I don’t know why this one got to me.”

Steve pulled back to meet her eyes. “Maybe because I’m supposed to be supporting you, not adding to your stress?”

“You usually do support me!” Peggy protested, the tears passing as quickly as they had come on. “And I can see how hard this Christmas has been for you.”

He nodded. “That’s no excuse for my behavior, though. I should have dealt with it better.”

She sniffled again. “Well, do better now.”

Steve squeezed her tight. “You got it. How about you hop in that shower and I’ll deal with the presents, okay?”

Peggy looked up at him from under her lashes. “You can deal with the presents, but I think you need a shower, too.” She plucked at his sweaty tee. “You can scrub my back as your first act of penance.”

Steve laughed and let her lead him into the bathroom.

*

On Christmas morning, Peggy woke with a start. Steve’s side of the bed was cold, and it was past ten, judging by the stark winter sunlight streaming into the room. The scent of bacon wafted under her nose before she was fully awake. As she lay in bed wondering if she could realistically sneak in a few more minutes of rest, Lily galloped into the room.

“Mummy!” She zoomed around the bed. “Dad wouldn’t let me come in until breakfast was ready but it’s ready now and then we have to open presents and so it’s time to get up, get up, get up!”

Peggy laughed and sat up in bed, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. “Thank you for letting me sleep in, dearest.”

“Daddy said you two were up late watching for Santa.”

As if on cue, Steve appeared in the doorway, Hal strapped to his chest and a tray in his hands. Peggy raised an eyebrow at him. “Daddy said we were up late, did he?”

Steve blushed. “I was trying to explain why you were so tired.”

“Well, Lily, your Dad and I were just so caught up in the holiday spirit, we didn’t realize how late it had gotten.”

Lillian clambered up into bed beside Peggy. “I tried to stay up, too, but I was too knackered.”

“Well, we still weren’t up late enough to help Santa with his packages.” Peggy cuddled her close. “Did he leave you anything?”

“Yes, there are presents under the tree I haven’t seen!”

Steve raised both eyebrows. “I guess I’ll have to give Nat a call later.” Peggy shrugged. “I made you an apology breakfast.” He gestured with the tray.

“I can smell it from here!” Peggy said approvingly. “A lie-in, plus bacon. You are well on your way to being back on my nice list, Steve.” He grinned at that.

“Can we eat it in bed?” Lily asked.

“I suppose it is a special occasion,” Peggy replied. “Come sit with us, darling.” She motioned for Steve to join them. He handed off the tray and unwrapped Hal from his carrier, settling him in his lap.

“Tea, bacon, sausage, eggs, tomatoes and the last of that banana bread Sharon sent over,” Steve said, indicating the plates practically overflowing from the tray. “Merry Christmas, Peggy.”

Peggy looked up into Steve’s clear blue eyes to see the love shining there. “Thank you, Steve. Merry Christmas.”

[malecsecretsanta]

Merry Christmas, @magnusandalexander!

Read on AO3

*****

Nobody Knows Where They Might End Up

Chapter 1

“Each of you comes here today hopeful, wanting in on the game. A month ago, you were in med school, being taught by doctors. Today,  you  are the doctors. The 7 years you spend here as a surgical resident will be the best and worst of your life. You will be pushed to the breaking point. Look around you. Say hello to your competition. Eight of you will switch to an easier speciality. Five of you will crack under the pressure. Two of you will be asked to leave. This is your starting line. This is your arena. How well you play...that’s up to you.”  -Richard Webber, Grey’s Anatomy S1E1

✦✧✦✧✦✧✦

The sound of a car horn wakes Alec from a particularly pleasant dream, and his eyes snap open. The first thing he registers- if the drool stain on the cushion beneath him is anything to go by- is the fact that he passed out face down on the couch. The second is his very noticeable lack of clothing and the pounding of his head. Both of these things are rather disconcerting, but it’s the third thing that really takes the gold medal.

On the floor beside the couch is another man, his also-naked body covered only by a thin blue blanket.

Alec is used to this, if he’s being honest. He’s not, however, used to being late to work because of it. A lot of the memories from the night before are somewhat blurry, but whatever they did must have been enough to really wear him out. His eyes sweep over the man for a moment, noting the seriously ripped muscles in his back and arms, and he lets out a quiet groan. A small part of him is desperate to slide onto the floor and go another round, but the clock is ticking and he really needs to get going.

He reaches down and pulls the blanket off the stranger, making a valiant effort not to look at his ass as he wraps it around his waist. Looking around frantically for a moment, he spots a throw pillow at the end of the couch and drops it on the man, covering him up once more. The man grunts and lifts his head, his eyes squinting as he takes in his surroundings. Alec takes the opportunity to step by him as he gathers his wits, heading toward the stairs.

“You have to go,” Alec says as he moves, not turning around to meet the man’s eyes.

“Or you could come back down here and we can pick up where we left off.” His voice is smooth and confident, somehow perfect after a night of drinking and his only being awake for 30 seconds.

It just isn’t fair.

“No, seriously,” Alec answers, finally turning around, “you have to go. I’m late, which isn’t something you want to be on your first day of work.”

“Oh,” he replies, his lips tilted up in amusement as he stands and pulls on his pants, which were discarded only a few feet away. He looks around the room as he tugs the zipper up, his eyebrows raised. “You actually live here?”

Alec pauses, his mind reeling. None of his other one night stands have ever tried to make small talk after he told them to leave, yet here this guy is, judging his- father’s- house. Alec doesn’t have any idea how to respond to it, or if he even should. All he does know is that every second he stands here talking to this unbelievably gorgeous man, the less chance he has of keeping the job that he just managed to get. A very good job, he might add.

“No,” he answers, then shakes his head. “Yes. Kind of.”

“It’s nice,” the man comments, his head tilting to the side as their eyes meet. “A little dusty and cluttered, but nice. How do you ‘kind of’ live here?”

Alec has to stop himself from gaping at the question. The answer to that has a lot more to it than what he is willing to share with some of hisfriends, not to mention someone he just met.

“I moved from Boston two weeks ago,” he answers cautiously. “It was my father’s house. I’m selling it.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“You said was your father’s house.”

“Oh,” Alec breathes out, shaking his head and waving the free hand that isn’t holding the blanket up. “My father isn’t dead. He’s- you know what? We don’t have to do this.”

The man smiles and grabs his shirt as he replies, “We can do anything you want.”

“No, I mean we don’t have to exchange life stories and pretend we care.”

This seems to amuse the man even more, and a beaming smile spreads across his face as he buttons up his shirt. Something inside Alec stalls at the sight, and a slow, honey-like feeling drips through his veins. He wants to stay there for a moment and just stare at the beauty in front of him, similar to how artists study and appreciate others’ paintings, but he’s done enough of that for one morning.

“Look,” he says, “I’m gonna go upstairs and take a shower, and when I’m done you won’t be here. So goodbye, uh…”

He has no idea what this guy’s name is. He has no idea why he wants to know.

“Magnus,” the man finishes for him, leaning in and offering his hand. Alec takes it, unable to hold back his own grin as Magnus continues to beam at him.

“Magnus,” he repeats, laughing breathily. “Right. Alec.”

“Nice to meet you, Alec,” Magnus says, smoothly hopping over the back of the couch so that they’re standing close.

Alec immediately backs up, his mind clear enough to know that he really has to move.

“Bye, Magnus.”

He turns and runs up the steps without looking back.

✦✧✦✧✦✧✦

Alec slips his stethoscope around his neck and smiles to himself, looking down at his light blue scrubs and long white coat. There were many long nights of binge studying and mental breakdowns that led to this moment, and now he knows that they were all worth it. His eyes travel around the room, taking in his new coworkers as an attending calls out names and assigns them all to a resident.

“Merryweather, Baygold, Ashton, Brownland!”

Interns stream out of the room, some of them wearing expressions of exaggerated confidence and others looking like they’re seconds away from peeing their pants. Alec never really had a clear picture in his head of what it would be like to finally get here, to be among so many others who want the exact same thing as him and face the possibility of not winning that competition, but the thought of it is enough to shoot adrenaline through his veins.

“Only 12 women out of 30,” someone mutters beside him, and he looks over to see a woman with dark skin and an abundance of curls.

Maia, if he’s remembering correctly. He met her briefly at the luncheon that was held for the incoming interns. It was clear after only minutes of speaking to her that she was going to be one of the best. He had vowed then and there that he was going to fight to be right up there beside her.

“Don’t worry,” Alec says, smiling wryly when she looks over at him. “Most of the guys will drop out of the program soon enough.”

He nods very unsubtly at Jace, who had hit on almost every single woman at the luncheon. Maia had turned him down so fast Alec wished he had caught it on video. Maia laughs, and Alec stands up from the bench in front of their lockers.

“You’re Maia, right?”

She nods and reaches back to tie her hair up.

“Which resident are you assigned to? I got Rey,” she says.

“The stick? Me too.”

He grimaces at the reminder. Lorenzo Rey is infamous for making his interns cry. It’s why he’s called the stick. Because of the stick up his ass. Of course, Alec’s not too worried about being yelled at; he got plenty of that from his father. But if there’s one thing he hates, it’s being treated like he’s incompetent.

“You got the stick?” another intern chimes in. “So did I. At least we’ll be tortured together. I’m Lewis. Simon Lewis. We met at the luncheon.”

Simon turns his attention to Maia, his eyes glazing over slightly as he looks at her. Alec holds back a smirk.  He vaguely remembers him. He was the one who tripped over one of the tables and knocked at least 5 plates onto the floor.

“You had on a black dress with a slit up the side, strappy sandals, and…” He takes in the expressions on both Alec’s and Maia’s faces and trails off. “You were just very unforgettable.”

Maia just smiles in amusement as he stammers on, and Alec coughs to cover up a laugh.

“Lewis, Roberts, Lightwood, Fray!”

They all rush over to the locker room entrance, and the attending points down the hall. Rey is standing at the nurse’s station, talking to another resident and smiling. His long black hair is pulled back in a ponytail, and he looks almost...harmless.

“That’s the stick?” Maia asks, shock coating her voice.

“He doesn’t look like an asshole,” Simon whispers as they walk toward him.

“Maybe it’s professional jealousy,” the other woman in their group chimes in. “Maybe he’s brilliant, and they call him the stick because they’re jealous. Maybe he’s nice.”

Alec eyes her dubiously, noting her short height and fiery red hair. He doesn’t remember seeing her at the luncheon, but then again, he doesn’t spend a lot of his time looking at women in general. They reach the nurses’ station and Clary approaches Rey immediately, holding out her hand as he turns to her.

“Hi, I’m Clarissa Fray, but everyone calls me Clary.”

His eyes drop to her hand and stay there until she lets it fall back to her side, then he speaks.

“I have five rules, memorize them,” he says without preamble. “Rule number one, don’t bother sucking up to me. I already hate you. That’s not going to change.”

He turns back to the station and gestures at the pile of supplies that sit on the counter beside him. Alec stands up straighter, clutching his hands behind his back as he listens closely. He has a feeling they’re going to hit the ground running, and he wants to be prepared.

“Trauma protocol and phone lists,” he says, then steps away from the station, heading down the hallway as he continues. “Nurses will page your phones, so I hope they are charged and ready to go. You will answer every page at a run– a run–  that’s rule number two.”

Each of them quickly pick up their supplies and follow after him, running to catch up.

“You’re interns, nobodies, bottom of the surgical food chain. You run labs, do charts, and don’t complain.”

Alec and Maia share a look as they turn down yet another hallway. Alec is one hundred percent sure he is going to get lost a lot before he figures this place out, if the stick doesn’t kill him first.

“On-call rooms,” he says, throwing open a door and allowing them to peer inside. Three sets of bunk beds fill the room, but it is bland otherwise, only a standard picture of the New York skyline livening up the white walls. “Attendings hog them. Sleep when you can, where you can. Which brings me to rule number three. If I’m sleeping, don’t wake me unless your patient is actually dying.”

Well damn.

“Rule number four, the dying patient better not be dead when I get there. Not only will you have killed someone, you will have woke me for no good reason. Are we clear?”

They all stare at him incredulously, but he doesn’t seem to notice. Or he just doesn’t care. Alec wouldn’t be surprised either way. He raises his hand cautiously, and Lorenzo meets his eyes.

“Yes?”

Alec hesitates for a moment, then says, “You said five rules. That was only four.”

Everyone is silent as Rey stares him down with a deadpan expression, and it is only the chime of his phone that breaks the tension. He looks at the page, then shoves his phone back into his pocket.

“Rule number five,” he says, pushing through them. “When I move, you move.”

He darts down the hallway, yelling, “Get out of my way!” to the people in front of him as he goes. The interns run after him without a second thought.

✦✧✦✧✦✧✦

They end up on the hospital’s helipad, eyes closing and arms holding onto the edges of their white coats as they are blasted with air. The helicopter quickly touches down, and they approach as the doors slide open to reveal first responders wheeling out a seizing patient. Alec pauses for a moment, his heart jumping. This girl can’t be any older than Max.

“What do we got?” Rey yells over the loud whir of the helicopter’s blades.

“Maureen Brown, 15-year-old female, new onset seizures, intermittent for the past week. Her I.V. fell out en route. She started seizing as we descended.”

“Alright, let’s go!” Rey begins wheeling her to the elevator, and they all follow behind, hearts racing. “Lightwood, get her on her side and keep her there.”

Alec holds her in place, unsure if his hands are shaking because of her seizure or his own nerves. The elevator doors close behind them after they all file into the elevator, and as they start going down, Simon whispers.

“I know her.”

Alec looks over at him, eyebrows scrunching together. “What?”

Everybody in the elevator is staring at Simon now, waiting for him to elaborate.

“She’s my mom’s best friend’s daughter. Where are her parents?”

Rey watches him closely for a moment, then shakes his head. “I’m sure they’re on their way, but you’re off this case.”

“What? She’s not family. I’m fine.”

“I don’t need any arguments, Lewis. You look like you’re about to be sick. Go find Dr. Santiago. I’m sure he could use some help.”

The elevator doors open and Rey wastes no time in speeding out, leaving Simon gawking behind him. Alec focuses all of his energy on not tripping as they go, still holding the girl on her side. They wheel her into a room and lift her onto a bed. Nurses hover on the sidelines, ready with medication.

“Fray, give her 10 milligrams of Diazepam I.M.”

Rey continues giving orders as the interns scramble, and relief washes over Alec as the girl finally stops seizing. He slowly rolls her onto her back and clutches the bed rails as he waits for more instructions.

An attending enters the room then, immediately taking the chart from Rey’s hands. Alec can’t wait for the day he has that kind of unquestioned respect.

“Alright,” she says, “let’s shotgun her.”

“That means every test in the book,” Rey clarifies. “Roberts, you’re on labs. Fray, patient work-ups. Lightwood, bring Maureen for a C.T. She’s your responsibility now.”

Rey turns without another word and leaves the room, pulling his gloves off as he goes.

✦✧✦✧✦✧✦

“Labs are clear. C.T. is clean. What the hell is going on with this girl,” Alec mutters under his breath as he wheels her back into her room.

He’s barely hooked her back up to the heart monitor before two people– Alec assumes they’re the parents– rush in, panicked expressions on their faces. “Maureen, honey, we’re here.”

“They gave her a sedative for the C.T. scan,” Alec says before they panic about her lack of response. “She’s still a bit groggy.”

“Will she be alright?” her mother asks, turning to him with wide eyes.

“Our doctor at home said that she might need an operation. Is that true?” her father asks immediately after.

“What kind of operation?”

Alec holds up a hand, shaking his head. “She’s, uh- you know what? Let me go get my attending. You’ll want to speak to him.”

They both nod, worry still clear in their expressions, as Alec backs out of the room. He begins searching for Rey immediately, feeling totally out of depth. Minutes pass and he grows more and more panicked, until he accidentally bumps into Rey as he rushes through another door.

“Sorry,” he breathes out, but Rey just gives him a deadpan expression. “Maureen’s parents have questions. Do you talk to them, or do I ask that attending from earlier?”

“No, Dr. Loss is off the case. Maureen belongs to the Neuro attending now, Dr. Bane. He’s over there.” He points across the room before pushing past Alec, disappearing down the hallway.

Alec sighs, holding onto the door handle for a moment. He’s barely been here for a couple hours, and already he feels like he’s failing. He’s sure it’s not an uncommon feeling, that the rest of the interns feel the same, but he’s supposed to be better. He can picture the expression on his father’s face if he could see him now.

Shaking his head, he looks over at where Rey pointed, searching for his attending.

His heart stops.

Because there, only a few feet away, is the man he slept with last night and made small talk with this morning. Except now he’s in dark blue scrubs and a white coat, and he has a stethoscope around his neck, and he’s holding a chart, and he’s smiling as he talks to other doctors, and Alec.Can’t. Breathe.

He’s about to disappear back through the door, leave the hospital, and never return, but then Magnus– Dr. Bane – looks up and meets his eyes.

Fuck.

He rushes back through the door anyway, trying to get as far away as possible. He slept with his boss. He slept with his boss. He’s going to be fired. No one will ever take him seriously again. He might as well just quit now.

“Alec,” a voice calls after him. He walks faster, desperate to escape, but a hand clutches his arm and pulls him to a stop. “Can I talk to you for a second?”

Before he can protest, he is dragged into the nearest stairwell.

“Dr. Bane,” he says as they finally stop. They are standing only a few inches apart, and he takes a step back onto one of the stairs. He is much too attracted to those warm brown eyes.

“Dr. Bane? This morning it was Magnus.”

“Dr. Bane,” Alec persists, “we should pretend it never happened.”

“What never happened-” Magnus asks, his lips tilting up in an amused grin, “you sleeping with me last night, or you throwing me out this morning? Because both are fond memories I’d like to hold onto.”

Magnus’ eyes are lit up with mischief as he shifts closer, his shoulders swaying. His fingers fiddle with his ear cuff, and Alec’s eyes catch on it for a moment. He wonders if he had it on this morning, but then again, he doubts he’d have missed it. It gleams in the bright hospital lights, but it’s nothing compared to the brightness of Magnus’ smile.

He closes his eyes for a moment and takes a deep breath, then shoots a glare at his boss.

“There will be no memories. We’re not two random guys in a bar anymore. Clearly things are different now.”

Magnus hums, his grin not wavering even for a second as he replies, “You took advantage of me, and now you want to forget about it.”

“I did not take-”

“I was drunk, vulnerable, and good-looking, and you took advantage.”

“Okay, we were both drunk,” Alec defends, unable to hold back his own smile as Magnus continues beaming at him, “and you are not that good-looking.”

It’s a lie. Alec has never seen someone as beautiful as him.

“Maybe not today,” Magnus responds, scrunching his nose. “You did kick me out of your house before I could even use the bathroom. Last night, though, I was very good-looking. I wore my purple shirt. You took advantage.”

“I did not take advantage!”

Magnus suddenly moves even closer, so that Alec can see the smudge of last night’s eyeliner and the almost-covered up dark circles under his eyes, as he says, “Want to take advantage again– say, Friday night?”

Alec’s gaze falls to his lips without thought, entranced by their sincere smile and slight pink tint from whatever chapstick he uses. It smells like pineapple.

“No,” he responds a beat too late, his voice nowhere near as resolute as he means it to be. “You’re an attending, and I’m an intern...stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you’ve seen me naked!”

The skin around Magnus’ eyes crinkles as he lets out a quiet laugh, and Alec rolls his eyes, irritatingly charmed.

“Dr. Bane, this is inappropriate. Has that ever occurred to you?” Alec steps around Magnus and exits the stairwell before he can respond, his heart hammering in his chest as he moves down the hallway back toward Maureen’s room.

✦✧✦✧✦✧✦

“They’re calling me 007, aren’t they?”

Alec bangs his head against the wall and closes his eyes, two seconds away from strangling Simon to death so he can’t ask that question one more time. Apparently there’s a tradition every year that involves one intern performing an appendectomy, and Dr. Santiago chose Simon. Of course, the entire thing is a set up, a way to set an example for overconfident interns. All it does, though, is make one intern the laughing stock while the others delude themselves into thinking they’d do any better.

“No one is calling you 007,” Alec, Maia, and Clary all answer simultaneously, their voices monotone.

Except everyone is calling him 007.

“I was on the elevator and Herondale whispered 007,” he insists, and Alec lets out a harsh sigh.

“How many times do we have to go over this, Simon?”

“Herondale whispered 007 and everyone laughed!”

Clary lifts her arms above her head, stretching as she says, “He wasn’t talking about you.”

“Are you sure?” Simon’s eyes fall on Maia, and Alec looks up at the ceiling. He can’t deal with any more forbidden love stories today. He has enough going on in his own mind.

“007 is a state of mind. If you let it get to you, then you’re basically proving them right. Just ignore them and keep your head down,” Maia says, blowing a stray hair out of her eyes.

This seems to shut Simon up. Alec shoots Maia a grateful look, and she smirks back at him. The silence doesn’t last long enough, though.

“So, is your father really Robert Lightwood?” Simon asks.

Alec tenses, his hands gripping the edge of the bed he’s sitting on. They’re all gathered in the basement, taking a short break in between responsibilities– and in Alec’s case, avoiding Magnus at all costs.

“Yes.”

He is not in the mood to hear them all praise his father and discuss how great of a surgeon he is. They don’t know the half of it. Luckily, just as Simon opens his mouth to say something else, Alec’s pager goes off.

“Oh god,” he breathes out, standing up from the bed. “It’s 911 for Maureen Brown. I need to go.”

He rushes for the stairs, but just before he’s out of earshot, he hears his coworkers speak.

“He doesn’t even care that his dad is a legend.”

“I would kill to have Robert Lightwood as a father.”

✦✧✦✧✦✧✦

“She’s having multiple grand mal seizures,” a nurse says as Alec rushes into the room. “How do you want to proceed?”

His feet stumble to a stop and he stares for a moment as Maureen trembles. The world seems to blur as panic sets in, and he can’t make himself move. The nurses stare at him with angry expressions, their mouths open as the speak, but he can’t hear them. He’s in over his head.

“Dr. Lightwood!”

He shakes his head and steps forward, forcing himself to focus.

“She’s got diazepam and 2 milligrams of lorazepam. You need to tell us what you want to do now.”

Alec takes a deep breath and picks up the chart, squeezing it to stop his hands from shaking.

“Page Dr. Rey and Dr. Bane.”

“We just did.”

“Give her phenobarbital,” he orders, his voice cracking.

“No change.”

He looks up at the heart monitor just as it flatlines, and he feels like his own is stopping as well. Gulping in a terrified breath, he pushes past a couple of nurses, immediately starting chest compressions.

“Get the crash cart!” The nurses roll the defibrillator into the room and Alec grabs the paddles. “Charge to 200. Clear.”

Her body bows as the shock runs through her.

Nothing.

“Charge to 300. Clear.”

Nothing .

“Charge to 360. Clear.”

The monitor beeps, and Alec nearly collapses with relief as it shows sinus rhythm.

“Pressure’s coming back up,” a nurse says, and Alec nods.

He places the paddles back on the crash cart as Magnus runs in, pressing a hand to his chest to catch his breath.

“What the hell happened?” Magnus asks, looking up at the monitor.

“She had a seizure-” Alec starts, but Magnus interrupts him.

“A seizure? You were supposed to be watching her.” He pushes past Alec and pulls his stethoscope from his neck to listen to her heart.

“I checked on her, and-”

“I got her,” Magnus interrupts again, holding up a hand. “Just go.”

Alec stands there for a moment, watching in disbelief as Magnus completely ignores him, then turns and walks from the room. Once again he can’t seem to find any sharp edges in his surroundings, walls and people and voices blending together into a nonsensical blur. He moves toward the exit, ignoring the call of his name as he stumbles outside. It’s raining, but the sudden nausea in his throat pulls him out into the storm, and he doubles over as he throws up.

“Alec?” Maia’s voice sounds from behind him as he plants his hand on a tree and leans on it for support. He shakes his head, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, and turns back around.

“If you tell anyone, I swear,” he threatens, but it holds no real malice.

He moves back into the building without meeting her eyes.

To Be Continued...

[providentially-demonic]

The Perfect Christmas

My Christmas gift for @morsprocella. Hope you enjoy it!

Sometimes it was hard to know what Arthur was thinking, even after reconciliations had been made and the relationship between the three of them had made its first tentative steps in a new direction. The joy that had lit his face when they had all confessed their feeling for each other had been unfeigned and blinding.

But Arthur had lost a lot of the more carefree attitude that Lewis remembered him having. He was a little skittish, though he did his best to hide it.

So that was what was making his current overly-cheery attitude a little disturbing.

He was wearing a gleefully ugly christmas sweater Vivi had given him a couple of years back and was engaged in a spirited discussion of the merits of one type of christmas tree over another with the seller. Vivi was dancing from one tree in the yard to the next, joyfully exclaiming over each, cheeks red in the cold air.

Lewis was enjoying watching her, but he was keeping a careful eye on Arthur, who had moved on to asking about the best method for keeping the tree looking good during the holidays.

Vivi suddenly made a high-pitched sound of joy and began jumping in place, her scarf flailing wildly with the movement. “That one! That one, that one, that one! It’s perfect!”

Arthur’s head came up like a startled dog and he zeroed in on where Vivi was pointing.

It was a massive spruce, the branches on the bottom well over four feet around and at least nine feet tall at the tip.

Much as he wanted to make her happy, Lewis frowned doubtfully. “Are you sure? I think that might be a little big for the living room.”

Vivi pouted dramatically at him. “No, it’s not! We can make it fit.” The look in her eyes promised that he had better help in that regard. He hadn’t tried modifying their shared apartment yet— though he’d experimented with one of the vacant ones on same floor, trying to expand the inner dimensions without changing the outer ones. He was still learning about just what he could do with his abilities. “It’s perfect! Arthur thinks so too, right?”

Arthur nodded, smiling at Vivi. “If you think it’s the perfect tree, then it must be the perfect tree.”

Vivi squeaked and flung her arms around Arthur’s neck, kissing him soundly on the cheek.

Arthur flushed but slung an arm around her waist. “I guess we found the perfect one,” he grinned at the seller. ���We’ll take it.”

The seller quoted a price and Lewis blinked. That was a little much, even for a tree of that size. He sucked in a breath and adjusted his sunglasses. “Um, doesn’t that seem like—”

Arthur pulled out his wallet. “I got this, big guy. Small price to pay for the perfect tree.”

Lewis noticed Vivi quirk an eyebrow, but she said nothing as Arthur paid for the tree. The seller helped them tie it atop the van and threw in a wreath when he handed Arthur his receipt..

Arthur drove home, ‘hmm’ing and nodding to Vivi’s enthusiastic chatter about how they were going to decorate it. Lewis sat in the back, holding the wreath and wondering just why Arthur’s enthusiasm seemed just a little bit... off.

Lewis helped carry the tree upstairs and with several minutes of concentration (and some helpful coaching from Mystery), managed to tweak the dimensions of the living room so the tree fit. Shortly afterwards, Arthur helped Lewis carry up boxes of decorations from their storage unit in the basement of the building. Lewis summoned his deadbeats to help with the lights while Arthur made sure the tree was secure in its base.

The antics of the deadbeats soon had Vivi laughing uproariously, because, when excited, the deadbeats resembled nothing so much as overactive kittens. There was much tangling of the lights and batting ornaments across the room before Lewis decided it was a bad idea and shooed them off to play with a package of tinsel. At least that he could clean up and wouldn’t have to worry about them breaking.

Vivi went at it like a general after that, directing both of them on everything from the number of strings of lights to the placement of the ornaments. She scrutinized everything, directing both of them with, “Higher! No— one more branch to the left. That’s it! Perfect!”

Arthur followed her instructions like he’d been born to it, only satisfied when Vivi had pronounced perfection on each ornament and candy canes placing. When everything was to her satisfaction, Lewis floated up and placed the star on the top of the tree.

Vivi kissed his cheek and Arthur’s after he rejoined them on the floor. “Absolutely wonderful,” she enthused. “It’s just right!”

Arthur sighed and smiled at her. “Good. That makes me happy.”

The next day, Arthur and Lewis went out to pick up groceries, a normal enough activity, but Arthur kept questioning him on what he considered a perfect christmas dinner. Lewis grinned and said a perfect dinner would be getting to spend it with his family and Arthur and Vivi.

“”Not what I meant, big guy.” Arthur flushed and rubbed the back of his neck in a habitual gesture of embarrassment. “I meant for the actual foods. Vivi— she wants you to be able to eat christmas dinner, so she’s researching charms that will let you eat, at least for a little while. She says if she can’t work it out, though, she’s gonna let you borrow her body for a bit so you can. It won’t bug her, that girl can eat twice her weight, so she’ll happily eat more later, but y’know, we need to know what foods you would want for dinner.”

Lewis shook his head, a warm feeling in his nonexistent stomach. Trust Vivi to care so much. “She doesn’t have to do that.”

Arthur chuckled wryly. “She will anyway. You know her.” He tossed a box of cereal in the cart; something filled with sugar and colors not found in nature. “So spill before she decides to go ask your folks.”

Mama would undoubtedly tell her and then insist they come over so she could make all of them for him. Lewis didn’t want that. He wanted to spend time with his family, but not with Mama and Papa trying so hard to make foods for him to taste. When Arthur had turned back to the cereal, Lewis replaced his choice with something a little healthier, ‘hmm’ing thoughtfully. He wanted Arthur to stop running on energy drinks and quick (and usually bad for him) snacks. “I guess just little finger foods, like Mama and Papa always did. Since Christmas was always about family, they didn’t want to spend all day in the kitchen, so we always just had things that could be prepped ahead of time and snack on during the day.”

Arthur turned back and put his original choice of cereal back in the cart with a defiant look, but he didn’t try to take out the other box. “Okay, that’s cool, but what kind of things? What do we need to get for them?”

Oh. Lewis thought wistfully on the variety of finger foods his parents always had. Closing his eyes, he pulled up the ingredients of some of his favorites from memories of helping Mama and Papa prep them for Christmas. He mentally crossed off a few of the spicier ones, because he didn’t want to have things Arthur couldn’t eat, and began to recite an ingredient list, mostly to himself.

Lewis opened his eyes to see Arthur frantically scribbling on the back of Vivi’s hastily jotted grocery list. “Arthur? What?”

Arthur finished writing and shoved the paper at him. “Make sure I didn’t miss anything, willya? My note-taking skills are a little rusty.”

Blinking, Lewis took the paper from him and read over Arthur’s cribbed handwriting. “Just eggs. Arthur, we don’t need to—”

Arthur waved a hand to cut him off, taking the list back with his other hand and hastily noting eggs on it. “No. We do. Help me find all these things, okay?”

Lewis scowled down at him, but Arthur was not deterred, grabbing his hand and hauling Lewis after him. He checked against the list in his metal hand constantly, questioning on which brand he thought was the best for each ingredient. Lewis humored him until Arthur insisted on picking out the most expensive brand, when Lewis told him the cheaper one would do. “He took the bottle out of Arthur’s grasp. “You’re going overboard, Artie,” he scolded gently, replacing the bottle and taking the other, less-expensive one to add to the cart. “This one is fine. We don’t have to go crazy on this.”

Arthur scowled and swapped the bottles, defiantly placing himself between the display shelf and Lewis to keep him from switching bottles again. “I am not going overboard. I just want things to be absolutely right.”

Lewis, ignoring the other customers nearby, reached out and cupped Arthur’s cheek. “It will be. You’re stressing over the little things, when the big one is already right there and absolutely perfect.”

Arthur mmmed and leaned his head into Lewis’s hand, his eyes slipping closed for a second. “It is?” his voice sounded heartbreakingly uncertain.

Lewis brushed a kiss over his forehead. “It is. We’re all here, together. Nothing could be better than that.”

That seemed to do the trick, because Arthur’s shoulders sagged as if a weight had been lifted off of them. After that, he seemed far more amenable to Lewis’s suggestions, though if there was any debate on which was the better product, he insisted on the higher price one, unless Lewis flat out told him that a cheaper brand was better in quality. Still— the total was far more than Lewis was comfortable with, but Arthur paid for everything without a flinch.

When they had returned home, Lewis put the groceries up while Arthur headed off for a shift at the garage.

Vivi wandered into the kitchen while he was working and hopped up to sit on the counter, putting canned goods in the cabinet above her when Lewis handed them to her. “What’s the matter, Boo?” She asked, raising a foot to block him from going past her.

Lewis thought he’d been keeping his thoughts hidden, and Vivi snorted at his look, poking him with her toes. “Your hair keeps flickering and spitting off sparks. That only happens when you have something on your mind troubling you.”

Lewis ducked his head. He’d have to work harder at that. It wouldn’t do to give himself away in public. Quietly, with many pauses to gather his thoughts, Lewis told Vivi all the small things that had been troubling him about Arthur’s actions lately.

When he finished, Vivi sat there quietly for a long moment, her eyes distant and thoughtful. She made a soft sound deep in her throat and looked a little concerned herself.

“I think—” she said at last. “That he’s trying too hard.”

“Too hard?”

“Mmhmm,” she nodded. “Too hard to make it all—” she waved her hands in the air for a moment. “Perfect for us. That’s a word he’s used a lot lately. Perfect. He went shopping with me the other day, looking for, I quote, ‘the perfect gift for Lewis,’ and he wasn’t satisfied until I assured him that it was perfect and you would love it.” She pursed her lips thoughtfully. “I think he’s pushing himself to do everything for us, but not actually enjoying the holiday, not when he’s trying so hard to make it all ‘perfect’ for us.”

Lewis had to admit that she had a point. Arthur seemed far more interested in making certain that the holiday was perfect for Lewis and Vivi and not in enjoying it himself. For example, in the van earlier, while Lewis knew Arthur loved the funny and decidedly twisted christmas songs like “Christmas at Ground Zero” or “Away in a Madhouse,” he’d insisted on putting in a Mannheim Steamroller CD he knew Lewis loved. It had felt decidedly surreal not having Arthur gleefully belting out the dark lyrics of some of his favorite holiday songs.

“We need to show him—” Lewis began

“That it can’t be perfect without him,” Vivi finished decisively for him, thwacking her palms down on the counter with a loud slap. “Trees and presents and food are all well and good, but he’s what we need for it to be perfect, not any of those things! Right, Lew?”

Lewis could only nod agreement.

Vivi hopped down from the counter. “Great! Let’s go!”

“Go where?” Lewis questioned, swept along in her wake by the sheer force of her enthusiasm.

“To kidnap an Artie-bae and convince him that he doesn’t have to make things perfect, that they are just because he’s with us!” she declared, grabbing the spare set of keys from the candy dish by the door. Arthur had left the van, walking the two blocks to his uncle’s shop.

“Right now? Vivi, he just went to work!” Lewis protested, but followed her out the door and to the van.

“Doesn’t matter.” Vivi waved his concern off. “Lance will forgive us once we tell him why we stole Artie.”

“Better to ask forgiveness than beg permission, eh?”

“Right-o. We need to show a certain person it’s him we need, not all the trimmings and trappings.”

Lewis chuckled and boosted her up into the driver’s seat.

She grinned at him enthusiastically and started the engine. “Here’s the plan— I’ll run a distraction while you snag an Artie. Then we—”

Lewis put a finger across her lips, smiling at her gently. “I may have a better idea.”

“Mmm?” She mumbled against his finger.

Lewis went around the van and climbed in the passenger seat. “Simple. It’s almost noon. We tell Lance that Arthur was supposed to go out to lunch with us. He wasn’t, but Lance doesn’t know that and Arthur won’t object. We can steal him away without him suspecting anything.”

Vivi’s eyes brightened and she shot him a wide grin as she put the van in gear and pulled out onto the street. “Ooh, I like. I didn’t know you could be this sneaky?”

Lewis returned her grin, tugging his sunglasses down to give her a wink. “Maayy-beee,” he drawled.

Lance didn’t put up a fight, in fact he all but shoved Arthur at them. “G’wan, get him outta my hair. Feed him and let him work off some a’ that energy somewhere that ain’t my shop.”

Vivi saluted sharply while Lewis hustled a protesting Arthur into the van. “But I have work to finish—”

“It’s a simple transmission check on Mrs. Howell’s caddie. I can do that in my sleep. Now get outta here with them.”

“Yessir!” Vivi reached over to snag Arthur’s hand. “C’mon, You got your orders, bucko!”

Arthur let her and Lewis manhandle him into the middle of the front seat, sandwiched between her and Lewis. As she pulled away from the garage, he grumped at her, “Was this really necessary?”

“Yep,” Vivi popped the ‘p’ as she swung a left and pulled into the drive-through of a McDonalds.

Arthur’s lips pulled sideways in a rueful smile. “I know you didn’t all but kidnap me just to hit Micky-D’s, Vivi.”

“Not really, but I’m starving and you need to eat anyway...” She adopted a obnoxiously loud voice that sounded like a cranky version of her grandmother. “You’re so skinny. You look like the wind could blow you over. You need to eat more.”

“Vivs, you are starting to creep me out. You should not sound like your grandmom.” Arthur pulled a face as she rolled down the window and leaned out. “Also, she would never tell me to eat more. Might whack me with her cane, but...”

“Shoosh, you!” Vivi scolded before turning to her attention to the drive-through speaker. “Yeah, can I get like three— no, four orders of chicken nuggets, two large fries, and a mocha frap, please? And what did you want, Artie?”

Arthur rolled his eyes at her, “A cheeseburger and small fry. Nothing to drink though, there’s an energy drink in the cooler in the back.”

Vivi blew her bangs out of her eyes. “And two cheeseburgers— you know what— make those double-cheeseburgers and another large fry.”

The tentative voice on the other end of the speaker told her her total and advised her to pull forward, while Arthur huffed sourly. “Vivi—”

“I told you, you need to eat more. I am not having you shrivel up on me!”

“I’m not going to shrivel up on you, Vi!”

“Not listening.” She pulled up to the first window and passed her money to the teen, who looked far more relaxed when he saw there were three of them in the car.

“She has a point,” Lewis elbowed Arthur. “You don’t eat enough... or right, but being that we’re at McDonald’s—”

Vivii shot him a dirty look. “We need food. I am not doing this on an empty stomach. And at least it’s not Taco Smell.”

An apprehensive look flitted over Arthur’s face. “Doing what exactly?”

Vivi focused all her attention on getting the change back and pulling up to the second window, leaving Lewis to squirm uncomfortably as Arthur’s gaze turned his way. “Um... well...”

“Lewis—” The way Arthur dragged out his name made him twitch in his seat.

Vivi, now safely stopped at the second window, caught the collar of Arthur’s vest and tugged him over, stopping his questions with a kiss that left him panting and dazed. She shoved him back into Lewis, who almost automatically wrapped his arm around the smaller blond.

“Foodage now, talky-talk after,” Vivi tapped her finger against the tip of Arthur’s nose as he stared at her, wide-eyed. “So shoosh. I promise— it’s nothing bad.” She cupped his cheek in one hand and smiled at him, lacing the fingers of her other hand through his hair in a soothing stroke. “Trust me, willya?”

Still shivering with reaction, Arthur nodded slowly, almost unconsciously leaning back into Lewis.

Lewis tightened his arm and raised his temperature a little, hoping that it would work to calm Arthur a little.

Arthur said nothing more until after they had their food and Vivi turned the van onto the road out of town, taking the turnoff to Deacon’s Bluff, a seldom used stretch of road that ran up the hills that surrounded Tempo. She pulled the van off the road at Lighthouse Point, named for the tower of stone that time and wind had shaped naturally into a facsimile of a lighthouse. Parking in the shadow of the tower, she killed the engine and turned in her seat to face them, taking a slow sip of her drink.

“What’s going on?” Arthur asked plaintively, still leaning into Lewis. He’d wrapped his arms, flesh and metal both, around his own abdomen in an unconsciously defensive posture.

Vivi sighed and popped a nugget into her mouth, chewing contemplatively for a moment.

“Vivi?” Arthur pled.

With another sigh, she abandoned her food and squirmed closer until Arthur was sandwiched between her and Lewis, leaning into him as much as he was leaning into Lewis.

“Artie... Look at me.” She reached up to turn his face down to hers. “You know Lew and I both love you, right?”

Arthur shivered hard. “That sounds suspiciously like the prelude to a ‘But...’ ” He murmured, his voice thick and trembling on the edge of breaking.

“No,” Lewis broke in sharply. “No. No buts.  There is no but about our loving you. This is about us loving you enough to make you look after you.”

“Eh?” Arthur squirmed. “Lewis, I’m fine. I know you worry about my eating and sleeping habits but you cannot blame Vivi’s grease-capade on me.”

“Hey!” Vivi protested, poking Arthur’s ribs.

“Not talking about that either. I’m talking about you running yourself ragged to make Christmas perfect for Vivi and I. Everything just so and you wearing yourself out trying so hard.”

“Yeah,” Vivi interjected. “It’s not perfect, not by a long shot.”

“Wha—?”

Lewis bent his head and pressed a kiss to Arthur’s temple. “Stop trying so hard. Make some time to enjoy the holiday with us, not trying so hard to make everything great for us that we barely see you.”

“I—”

“Seriously, Artie, it can’t be perfect if it’s not about all of us together. It’s only perfect with you in it.” Vivi said, reaching up to press a kiss on his lips. “The trimmings and the tree don’t matter at all if you aren’t sharing it and enjoying it with us.”

“All I want for Christmas is you?” Arthur cracked a wobbly smile.

“There is a reason that’s a classic, you know.” Lewis added with his own smile. “That’s what we need to be happy.”

“I have everything I need right here, “ Vivi laughed, waving a hand to indicate the two men she was pressed against and the van that surrounded them. “Well, minus a smart-aleck dog, but let's not tell him that, okay?”

Arthur breathed a shaky sigh. “C-can we just stay here for a bit? I don’t think I’m up to going back home just yet. My stomach’s still all knotted up.”

Vivi reached over the back of the seat and snagged the blanket in the back seat, pulling it over all of them. It smelled slightly of dog, but it had never been warmer. “I think that’s just perfect.”

[takaraphoenix]

Buffy the Vampire Slayer

Fuck. This is going to be really very long. And I am saying that knowing how long my previous rants were. Those were short compared to what’s about to come.

I absolutely, completely and unconditionally love Buffy the Vampire Slayer. It is the singular most perfect TV show in existence. Nothing I have ever seen has lived up to it and I doubt anything I will ever see will live up to this show in its whole. This is my second favorite show on my top five list and it’s held that spot for the past fifteen years (which mind sound strange that I put the “most perfect TV show in existence” on spot two, but… I’m fully aware of all the flaws in my most favorite show and that I love that one with my nostalgia goggles on, but it will still always be my number one and not even Buffy’s perfection can kick it off the throne).

Now, just because I love something doesn’t mean I perceive it as flawless. I am fully aware of its flaws. But nothing is a hundred percent perfect.

I don’t even know where to start, but I think the beginning is the best.

What I hate about most supernatural shows is how “They are now thrown into this strange, new world with monsters… and immediately forget all about their non-supernatural friends” that literally every other show with supernatural elements does.

Not Buffy. When she first meets Willow and Xander, the two kind of only had each other and their buffy who gets killed off right at the start. And even then, Willow and Xander were the non-supernatural normal friends. And they became so important.

The fact that Buffy has this group of ordinary people behind her and really just human characters and that they back her up, that alone is awesome.

The Scooby Gang in general is awesome.

That is my favorite thing about the show. The relationships between the characters and how important they are. That the friendship never takes second place to the romance, like how many other shows like to write it. Because regardless of who was added to the plot and who left again, in the very end, it always came down to Buffy, Willow, Xander and Giles and I will always cry at the show’s finale when it is just the four of them, parting ways to go into their very last battle, I mean fuck I’m crying right now just writing this because it was just so heavy with the emotions and the importance of their friendship.

They are the heart and backbone of this show and the show never forgot it.

Many shows forget themselves, they forget the values and beauty they once represented, the longer the show goes on. And Buffy never did. Sure, it lost itself in the middle - but we’ll get to that when we get to that - but it caught itself and never declined fully.

Buffy Summers is an amazing character. She’s a girly-girl who loves lollipops and talking about boys and whining. She’s the most badass female character ever written in TV who saves the world repeatedly and comes back from the dead just to do it again, who has been beaten down by life in the cruelest ways possible and still kept on surviving but never without the scars. Her struggles were never just shrugged off. They became themes that were being dealt with realistically. For fuck’s sake, we had a plotline about her working at a burger shop because yes, this is a show taking place in reality and bills are something that needs to be paid even if you save the world. She is not a perfect character, she made a lot of bad decisions along the way, but that is what makes her human. She is not some character created for an agenda to show that “girls can do anything boys can” and is thus forbidden from doing anything overly girls, as many writers mistakenly do when trying to write strong female characters, because a female is not powerful and strong just because she belittles women who like wearing pink and dressing prettily and who see “girl” as an insult. That is not how strong women work.

Women are complex characters, just like every character should be. They don’t have to solemnly be one way so they aren’t the other way. And Buffy is a beautiful example of the complexity of it all.

Willow Rosenberg is an amazing character. She’s one of the characters in TV that had the biggest character development. This shy, demure girl that became the most badass bitch around who could kick your ass into a parallel dimension with the blink of an eye. The fact that she was literally the first lesbian I ever saw only made her more amazing for me. You see, I started watching Buffy with season 4, which first premiered in Germany in 2001, because, well, I was 10 when I started watching that show since earlier was kind of a little too young in my mom’s eyes, but she’s been watching it for years at that point and I kept lingering in the doorway with pleading eyes because vampires and witches and werewolves, mom, please, until I got to watch it. Right in the season where Willow and Tara fell in love. And I was legitimately in awe, because the concept of two women falling in love was new to me. I never met a real life lesbian before and on TV, the highest of their feelings were Will & Grace with the gays, but lesbians? Never seen that before. It was amazing for me.

And I will forever be grateful that Willow and Tara were my first representation of lesbians that I met.

Xander Harris is an amazing characer. I mean, seriously, I could do this for nearly every character but I’ll only be doing it for the Big Three for the sake of time, okay? He was this fearful, dorky, kinda useless normal dude in the beginning, but he had such a strong backbone, he always knew he’d be there for his friends. And he always was. What made him so special was that he wasn’t special. He was just A Guy. Where Buffy was the Slayer and Willow became the most powerful witch in existence, he was just a normal guy. The original Matt Donovan and Stiles Stilinski and Simon Lewis (despite him turning into a vampire later on, I will still count him for this category). The quippy human best friend to the supernatural. But he adapted. He found his own place among the supernatural and his own way of prodicing for them, helping them.

It amuses me that actually, I kind of started watching this show with its weakest season. Season 4. But let’s start with the other seasons first (I mean, I warned you guys that this is gonna be long).

Buffy was my first high school TV show. All shows I had watched up to that point were family comedies like Married with Children and Full House. But this was the first real look into how American high schools work and I loved it. The first three seasons in itself are the best of Buffy. I’m not even able to pick one season as the best because I like the whole stretch of it.

The dynamics, the characters, the villains, the plots.

Cordelia Chase is - argh, I didn’t want to do this for every character, so I’ll keep it short - another amazing example at character development. From the shallow, air-headed Barbie to a strong ally and friend who fought with her head held high and I will never forget Angel for ruining her.

And okay, if I take a sentence for Cordelia, I can really, truly not skip Giles. Giles, who will forever be The Mentor. When I hear “mentor figure” or “father figure”, I will always first and foremost think of Giles. He was the father and guide to them all, but he was not the one strong pillar, he too had his struggles. It’s one of the things that made me love the second Percy Jackson movie because Anthony Stewart Head is who I pictured as Chiron when reading the books and it is the most perfect casting they could have made.

The first three seasons arched beautifully together, tying the struggles of the high school students turned demon hunters, the funny elements and self-awareness, the serious undertones.

The scene at graduation when the class gave Buffy an award for being Class Protector is one of my favorite TV moments, because this… this acknowledgment of “Yeah, we weren’t always there for you and we didn’t bother getting to know you, but we know you’re there and we know what you did for us” and honestly, I’m crying again, this is ridiculous.

They graduate from high school and then… life continues. Like. Life continues in a realistic way. They go to college, or not in Xander’s case. They struggle with what to do with their lives, they try to find their own paths in what I consider the most realistic portrait in TV. In others, it’s not just “Yup, they college. We’ll mention college every now and again, but it never interferes with the demon hunting” like with most others. Buffy struggles with college work and demon killing, Willow soaks it all up because it’s exactly her world, Xander doesn’t know what to do with it, Giles struggles with what to do with his life in general.

Still, I consider season 4 the weakest season because the Initiative was… It wasn’t used well enough. It appeared and then it kind of disappeared again and in this show where the lore and world-building are so rich and on-point, the Initiative was the one hit and miss they did. Not to mention, I don’t like zombies and Adam creeped me out and was the weirdest major Big Bad that they ever had in that show.

But it brought back Spike and made him a more complex character than just “Bad guy with bad attitude and insane girlfriend”.

Which is a good cue-in for the ships and love-stories, actually.

Buffy is and perhaps will always be the only franchise where the love-triangle clicks for me. Angel/Buffy? Yes. Oh god, what a beautiful, tragic love-story, please give me more of them, OTP all the way. Spike/Buffy? Oh, the pain but they are so good for them and when he’s good, he’s the best, please give me more of them, OTP all the way.

I literally can not decide on who to ship her with. With most love-triangles, I either do not care about both options, or I want to cross the badly written female out of the equation and want to dive right into the slash fiction, or there’s only one good pairing in the options anyway.

The tragicly ironic thing is that for Willow, I have and always will ship her most with Oz though. Willow and Oz were that perfect soft warm ship for me, when I got to finally watch the first three seasons as the reruns hit Germany.

Willow and Tara, while beautiful at times, were also very tragic. The way Willow lied to Tara and manipulated her was just so unhealthy. I do love them together, I just think that I love Oz and Willow a bit more.

Xander is a mess. Like. Seriously. Him and Cordelia. Him and Anya. I can not decide which one I like more in the end, but think that, at this point, it really does become clear that I can cut this show into two parts. The first three seasons of high school where Angel/Buffy, Xander/Cordelia and Oz/Willow are just all the yes, as well as the post graduation seasons where Spike/Buffy, Xander/Anya and Willow/Tara are just all the yes. Which really, truly fascinates me.

Because it’s really rare for a show to get me on board with its canon couples in general. This show does an amazing job on that too.

So, season 4 was kind of flawed in the way the Initiative wasn’t grounded enough in this world and how weak its endgame villain came off.

Season 5 brought the legit only thing about this show that I hate. Dawn Summers.

Urgh. It makes me shudder to just think about her. She’s such an awful and useless and stupid person. And yes, I’m saying person here, because “character” would blame it on the writing and make it sound like she’s a badly written character, which she is not. She was intended to be the annoying, dumb, useless little sister. Not every character can or has to be flawless or lovable. She’s just that… one that isn’t.

And she just becomes worse in season 6, honestly. She is such a self-centered brat that has no concept of the struggles of others. Like. Yes, I understand that she has problems and that she suffers too, but so does everyone and if someone doesn’t have time for her, she acts out. They just… They do have a lot on their plates, trying to save the world and keep you from being homeless, you know? Which, okay, was a solid portrayal of an angsty, bratty teen, I suppose, because teenagers, as I recall from my own time as one, are fascinatingly blind for the struggles of adults. Doesn’t make her less annoying though.

I take back what I said earlier, about not being able to pick a favorite season. Season 6 is my favorite season, which in itself is baffling. Normally, I pick one of the very early seasons of a show because they keep declining afterward until they crash and burn.

Season 6 did the exact opposite of what other shows do. Where other shows feel the need to top it all off, go wilder and broader and more brutal and bigger enemies until it becomes an unrealistic mess, this one just…

Three human boys.

That’s the enemy of the season. Just three stupid idiots who play pranks on the good guys, for the most part. And it was the perfect choice, because instead of having to deal with those major Big Bads, we get the chance to deal with the characters. The one thing I keep complaining about in other shows, how they’re too overcrowded with plot to even give the characters any time to deal with stuff or interact.

Buffy did it.

They stepped back from the Big Bad in favor of dealing with the bigger issues. Dawn being not a real human and not dealing well with that. Buffy having died and being brought back. Willow becoming addicted to magic. Xander… completely fucking up the best thing in his life.

We have character plots in this season.

Character plots that still end in a big battle of epic proportions when Willow literally becomes a Dark Witch powerful enough to destroy the world. But instead of it being some epic battle, it’s one of the… quietest fights ever and it’s brought home in such a beautiful way because it’s about grief and loss and pain and love.

And those. Those are the moments that make Buffy the most perfect TV show to me. It never loses its humanity. Maybe the most emotional scene in all of this show happened in season 5, when Joyce Summers died and Anya talked about her death, about the concept of death. That will never cease to make me cry.

And season 7 was the perfect ending. The way it rounded things up, it brought every single thing full circle, all the way to that above mentioned scene of Giles, Buffy, Willow and Xander parting ways before the very final battle, among all the loudness of everyone, it is brought to the forefront one last time that it is them.

The way they solved the whole Slayer thing, the Big Bad they chose for their final season, the development. Nathan Fillion as one of the creepiest bad guys ever. The fact that, even after all those seasons already, Buffy still had a struggle, had to prove herself.

I have one or two major bones to pick with it, because I hated when the group decided “Lol, nope, we don’t need you, Buffy”… that broke my heart. It breaks my heart every single time I watch it because even her friends tell her they need a break from her. I mean, I love how she found safety and support in Spike’s arms after that scene, but that it happened at all and that after things of course go wrong without Buffy, they all come crawling back… it makes me angry. It was important to bring them all as a team together, but to me it will always feel OoC coming from those she had fought alongside with for seven years, those who should always have her back who always did have her back.

And, when talking about bones to pick, aside from weak season 4 and Dawn Summers, there’s just one more major thing that I have a problem with.

Hank Summers. For those who forgot because he’s literally only been in two episodes, that’s Buffy’s dad. Because Buffy has a father. The “(half-)orphan”-trope is very overused, but I genuinely think this show would have benefitted from it.

Hank Summers does nothing. Not even when his ex-wife dies and his teenage daughter and barely-above-twenty daughter are left all on their own. He doesn’t pitch in with money, he doesn’t visit, he doesn’t even think about taking Dawn in and taking care of her himself.

I mean. Same as with Dawn, it can just be said that he is a Bad Person and a Seriously Bad Dad, but… Give me a break, Buffy deserved better than that. Having him be dead would really have been better, especially when Joyce dies and he just… “Nope, no interest in those kids”.

And on that note, let me add Faith (who I accidentally forgot about before). She’s... probably the most complex character, because it’s easy to hate her, but it’s also kind of easy to love her. She’s definitely the most flawed character and that’s what makes her good. Because she’s bad. She gets the same powers as Buffy, but unlike other Slayers, she gets morally corrupted. But she also finds her way again. She’s a badass bitch and she definitely brought something new to the table. I loved how flawed she was, because she was not a good person, but when needed, she was one of the good guys. They never pretended to turn her around into a good person though, she always stayed true to herself.

The reason I’m adding her here is because I feel like she messes up the mythology a little. Part of me really loved how they brought in Kendra after Buffy died, because “When the Slayer dies, another Slayer awakens” and that they remembered to keep with that when Kendra died. But after that, this kind of really fell apart and is one of the biggest plot-holes to the show, in my eyes.

Buffy died three times. But only her first death awakened a new Slayer. Now, you can argue that with that, the mantle was passed on, but... When Buffy came back from the dead, she still had her Slayer abilities. She was still the Slayer, she wasn’t suddenly back to being the normal girl she was before she turned sixteen and became the Slayer. So technically, considering she was still the Slayer, her other deaths should have also passed on the mantle and thus awoken two more Slayers.

Not to mention... in the history of Slayers, Buffy was the first one to be brought back to life? I always found that hard to believe. No one ever used CPR or magic on a Slayer before? I doubt it.

So in this very rich and grounded lore and mythology, I have a problem with “We got Kendra and then we got Faith and... we don’t bother explaining why we never got any additional Slayers”.

Now, as we conclude this, let me wrap up what exactly makes Buffy the Vampire Slayer the most perfect TV show to me.

1.) The superb writing.

Not just the plot as I laid it out above, the way they knew when to step back and when to give character plotlines instead of big and loud action plots. Simply the dialogues alone. This show holds up. It’s a time-capsule of the 90s, sure, but its writing and dialogues are still funny, emotional, heavy, with exactly the right words chosen. The writing on this show is in every aspect overwhelmingly brilliant.

2.) The characters.

They’re individual, they’re well-developed, they have their own plots and relationships and they are all important, not just the titular character. It inverted tropes with its characters, it managed to put strong female characters out there without having “being a strong female character” be their only and defining character trades.

3.) The story.

Okay, this is technically part of the writing too, but I think it deserves its special shout-out. Because this show has a consistent lore where not all of a sudden all the time something new is shoehorned in and retconned in and where it comes apart by the seams the more seasons it has because you notice the writers didn’t think ahead so far. No, this world is fleshed out, its lore is established and as it is. It’s consistent.

Yes, it’s not flawless, but damn it’s the closest to flawless that I’ve ever seen.

[fairymoved]

Okay, so I won’t be posting these in order, but here’s a small part of chapter one of “The Witch Report”, introducing one of my characters, Anna Joan Lewis.

Contains mentions of religion and sex.

word estimate: 1,872

“A touch hasty, but alright.” Anna pulled up her jeans, grabbed her wedges from beneath the bed and made her way out of them room. Miranda didn’t stand up from her bed to escort Anna out, let alone making sure the door ensuring the safety of her apartment was locked. This neighborhood seems dangerous, Anna thought as she walked down a metal staircase. She caught the attention of an older man taking his dog out to relieve itself who seemed surprised to see such a formally dressed woman in this part of town. Or maybe it was-Anna quickly looked behind her.

Good, it was just her outfit this time. Not that she blamed the man for staring, the only bra on her person was being gripped by the straps in her left hand alongside her shoes, leaving her small but perky breasts loose under her thin top and feet bare to the dirt of the outside.

The dog doesn’t care, continuing to idly shit under a bush with tongue hanging out of its mouth as Anna slipped into her car and drove off, feeling the man’s eyes on her as she turned out of the driveway and on to the street. A part of her was insisting she turn back and at least get the man’s name, but another part remembered his oily skin reacting to the harsh morning sunlight like vinegar in a frying pan and eyes that would always look tired no matter how many naps he took to pad a day of unemployment. She’d gladly pass.

Of course, it’s only now that she chose to have standards. She could have used standards when she fucked that guy with far too many chins possible for there to be a neck under it inside a fast food restroom and when she gave that lady at the crossing walk cunnilingus behind a tree so good that the children who passed by afterschool thought she had forgotten her adult diaper that day.

But that was years ago, back when Anna was still adjusting to the fragility of this small, fleshy, sweaty, hairy thing she and many others morphed themselves into. Anna reached the first red light leading out of the apartment complex, catching herself between a growing line of other cars in the process, and caught a glimpse of herself in the rearview mirror.

When assuming her human form, she had to be highly selective over what bits and pieces she wanted and could do without. She’d think after years of observing humanity that she’d find a template she found worthy of her visage, and yet she had gone through multiple iterations in the past fifty years. This one (number eighty seven) was one she had stuck with for a little over a month and was getting more used to considering her true human persona.

This was the face of Anna Joan Lewis, a woman of lightly tanned skin and green eyes and closely cut hair that fell somewhere on the amber side of the red spectrum in good lighting.

Anna is small and thin, a type of figure that highly contrasts with the looming, gangly body that is her true form. Her true form was a lot of things, one of which being something that shouldn’t be revealed on a Monday morning in high humidity and bad traffic. Anna may be reckless, though her limits started to pile up at the mere mention of shredding open her car and shredding the fragile psyches of multiple humans with as much ease.

No, she’d seen it happen before. Couldn’t risk it just for the sake of feigning off her boredom.

Her car inched forward just enough to see a mere fragment of the road up ahead.

She gritted her teeth.

Even as a human, she can still feel the heat. And it’s not just the warmth of today’s climate touching her skin and baking the inside of her car-the sun’s rays could only hope to compare-but the constant roaring of fire starting from her back, coaxing her spine, and filling her lungs and chest. It was a kind of heat that didn’t hurt, more rested in the confides of her form as if politely asking her suddenly acquired rib cage and muscle tissue to move aside.

Anna straightened herself in such a way that her back was fully submerged into her seat, hoping to ignore her body’s instincts just long enough to keep driving forward. She was going to miss her wings, all six of them, though she supposed being able to see how nice her freshly manicured feet looked as they rested uneasily on the gas pedal. Actually, being able to see in general was a luxury she never thought she’d appreciate this much.

“Where were you?”

“Getting coffee,” Anna replied, placing down two carboard containers still hot with fresh lattes. “We all need fuel for the day, right?”

“I already had my coffee,” Samuel said, picking up one of the styrofoam cups from the table. “But if it’s on your dime…”

“They’re already selling drinks for the fall. Talk about eager.” Samuel nodded in between sips. “I’m always in the mood for pumpkin spice. You gonna have one or are you sticking to your almond milk?”

“You know I don’t do coffee,” Anna said. “Besides, I felt like treating the staff before they bite my head off for being late again.”

“Can’t you just grow it back if they did?”

“It’s a trick I haven’t tried yet.”

“And if you haven’t noticed…” Sam did a quick gesture around the room that Anna had only now processed as being empty, the acoustics of the three-story building enunciating his voice. “Everyone is a little busy at the moment. Well, accept for the receptionist. Hey, Delia! Want a drink?”

Anna took this as her cue to head to her office, escaping behind the door to slip her bra on and straighten out her hair on her desk mirror. Through the thin walls she can still overhear Sam talking with Delia over the coffee, their conversation soon being reduced to everyday chatter about their pets and plans for the rest of the day. Sam is cordial as ever, letting the elderly receptionist go on and on about her newest puppy rescued from the shelter.

Samuel Reiner had been working at Serendipity Counseling for about one and a half months now, his summer job of choice despite his abysmal testing scores in college level psychology. He and Anna hit it off immediately, having met each other on roughly his third day of work when they locked eyes in between the water fountain and display of self-help pamphlets.

Sam not so discretely ogled the friction between her thighs and skirt and Anna took a long look at the lean physique, dark hair, and big, dark eyes that made him radiant with a certain boyish charm she hadn’t had a taste of for a solid two weeks. They had only exchanged a few words until disappearing into the nearest storage closest and were friends ever since.

Sam had taken the news about Anna being an angel with a certain nonchalant acceptance. Granted, it was her own fault to leave the door to her office ajar while she killed a fly via pressing it into the wood of her desk with a thumb hot with burning embers, her halo partially visible in that way that looked like a blazing half circle against the late sunlight pouring through the window. No one at Serendipity, including both patients and employees, seemed to care an awful lot about Anna’s angelhood.

One of her clients, a recently divorced harpy woman, seemed to take solace in having an inhuman therapist. Another client, a human man fresh from rehab, was advised to get closer to God to truly complete his recovery and found Anna’s origins in heaven to be just the middle ground he was looking for.

“Better than just reading the damn thing, am I right?” He had said once, referring to a leather-bound bible his wife had thrown into his satchel before his appointment. It didn’t seem like much of humanity ever truly cared about Anna’s actual species, just a touch surprised that behind her clever disguise was a being far beyond their comprehension.

Oddities would always insist that the two of them were on common ground, many of them insisting Anna reveal her true self to them in privacy. Humans were quick to remind her about how long they’ve been Christians and/or Catholics, as if anticipating Anna to strike down on them for wasting her time.

The only reason Anna ever withheld information about being an angel was less to do with the threat of unveiling forbidden truths and more over the audacity of mortals to always redirect the conversations to Him. And talking about Him almost always became about them and their relationship with Him.

Talking about Him so casually went directly into the forbidden truths folder and Anna would often have to bite her tongue to keep His private life private. Anna was only ever allowed to say a handful of slogans that normally kept things in the green:

“Yes, He does love you.” “Yes, He does forgive you.” “Yes, He does hear all of your prayers.” “Yes, He doesn’t wear shoes.” “I don’t know why He did that, actually. Ask Him for me, okay?”

But of course, that always sparked an entirely different series of questions. Only then do they ask specially about her and what she does, or used to do. The thing was that going into detail about which angel did what required a lot of lengthy explanations of hierarchy’s and the nine choirs the presided in heaven.

And once the fact was in someone’s head that Anna was a significant part of that hierarchy and could provide a much more through Wikipedia page on the topic than anyone else they knew, they’d keep prying for more. Nothing against them, humans were always eager to know all they could about the world.

Knowledge was power on earth and those who had some sort of entail on the secrets of the universe got to live in confidence that they knew something someone else didn’t, eagerly awaiting the day that their once useless trivia would perhaps save a doomed planet.

These hero complexes weren’t too uncommon, while others seemed to assume victim roles instead. Many people became a touch eager at the presumption of having an angel speaking to them, immediately falling on the conclusion that He had sent an angel specifically for their protection for some incoming threat, or perhaps from themselves.

Others took it as a sign of danger, growing concerned at knowing a higher being was walking among the common folk in secret. Some people would snakingly ask if they were dead this whole time.

To this Anna was always taken aback before calmly explaining that the angels were here because they had to be here. Because heaven was broken and God has been stressed out lately and…

Anna recalled from the comfort of her empty office exactly why she had chosen to work here. Once the sessions started, no one expected her to do the talking.