#if they spoke to their father at all about anything not soccer related

[ryuusei-boi]

Inazuma Eleven Ending 7 - "Mata ne... no Kisetsu"

Taken from TODOS LOS ENDINGS del ANIME de INAZUMA ELEVEN 4K by Angelico

[writerswall26]

My Sweet Cairo (Part 5)

Synopsis: The Ravens' Soccer team Captain fell in love for Cairo Sweet

Warning: Slight cursing, Student-Teacher relations, Anger rage. Other than that, none that I know of (but feel free to correct me)

Words: 1.7k

Masterlist | Previous Part | Next Part

A/N: This chapter is a bit of a let down in my opinion, but we finally got something about what happened to Y/N's dad. Happy Reading!

Cairo met up with Y/N before the day of the meeting. Cairo was smiling, walking to her like there was nothing wrong. But Cairo's smile faltered immediately as soon as she saw Y/N's distant face. She was not smiling, she didn't look happy like she usually does, she was not welcoming Cairo in her arms. There was nothing.

"What's wrong, babe?" Cairo finally asked when she got in front of Y/N.

"Drop the charges against Mr. Miller." Y/N went straight to business.

Cairo furrowed her brows. "What? I was just doing what was supposed to be done. He was going to fail me for midterms." Cairo reasoned but Y/N was having none of it.

"He gave you a chance, didn't he? He told you to write another story. Why didn't you?"

"Because! I wanted to write something different, I know I can and I did! If he can't accept that I did way better than he would ever be, then I'm sorry."

"Why are you doing this, Cairo? You're gonna ruin his life, his career, for what? He's a great teacher and you know that, so why?!" Y/N shouted, making Cairo flinch as she saw the anger in Y/N's eyes.

"Baby, please." Cairo tried to hold Y/N's hand but it was swatted away, making Cairo furrow her brows, pain written all over her eyes. "You're supposed to be on my side. I'm your girlfriend, I am the victim here."

Y/N stayed quiet, staring at Cairo who was looking at her with pained, pleading eyes.

"You seduced him, didn't you?" Y/N finally spoke, vindication in her voice. Cairo's eyes widened with the accusation, tears streaming down her face. "You seduced him, because you thought he was an easy target. You seduced him so you could get an inspiration to write on your admission essay. And then you turned to me."

Cairo's head was shaking at this point but Y/N continued on. "You know as well as I do that even if I fail a class, my GPA would still be far ahead of yours. I'm in the way of you being the valedictorian, of you putting something in your portfolio. You used me, just like how you used Mr. Miller and Winnie. Because that's what you do, Cairo, you use people."

"You don't know what you're talking about, Y/N so stop right now." Cairo said, her voice shaking as she stared at Y/N who was standing tall in front of her, her eyes cold and emotionless.

"You know what you are, Cairo? You're a fucking trash in this world. You and your kind, spoiled rich girls who would do anything just to get what they want, to get what they need just because they can. Everyone who loved you... Winnie, Mr. Miller, me, even your fucking parents gave up on you because you're a fucking trash!" Y/N got a slap on the face because of that. But Cairo immediately regretted what she did.

The taller girl turned to face her with a devilish smirk. "Your kind killed my father... and I will not let you do the same to Mr. Miller." Y/N said before she walked away from Cairo who slumped on the wall, tears flowing down her eyes, sobs being heard in the silence of the night.

The meeting started with the directors questioning Mr. Miller and Cairo in the same room. There were certain instances that they would have the same answer but usually, Mr. Miller's answers were on the safe side while Cairo's stuck with her answers during her talk with the Vice Principal.

Everything was falling down bit by bit for Mr. Miller when Y/N was called inside the room to be questioned as well.

"Will you testify against Ms. Sweet?" One of the board members asked Y/N who nodded.

"Yes, sir." She answered, not even giving Cairo a glance.

"How do we know your credibility on the matter?" Another director asked.

"Cairo Sweet is my girlfriend, or rather, was my girlfriend. I know it would seem a little bit off and you might think I'm doing this to get my revenge on her but I'm not. I've been Mr. Miller's student way before she was his student so I can vouch that I know Mr. Miller better than Cairo's ever known him." She spoke with precision and confidence.

The board of directors looked at one another before the head nodded. "Thank you." Y/N said.

"What do you know about Mr. Miller's extracurricular activities outside the class? Did you ever see them leave the school together? Did Mr. Miller give favouritism towards Ms. Sweet? Anything you know." One of the directors asked.

"I might've seen them together once or twice outside of school, but it did not seem anything intimate. I saw them at Vanderbilt once, they were talking, I didn't see anything wrong with it though. It's a poetry parlour, they're both writers." Y/N said, slightly twisting the truth for Mr. Miller's favour.

"And the other instance you saw them together?"

"I was riding my bike on the way home, I'd pass by Cairo's house before I got to mine. I saw Mr. Miller pulled up in front of Cairo's house. I thought it was weird seeing him there but I also saw him giving back her phone. He left after that. She even told me that herself."

"What?! What are you talking about? You weren't there!" Cairo was getting frustrated. If anything, she knows Y/N's stories sounded more credible than hers, but for some reason, she still couldn't find it in her heart to hate this person who's ruining her life.

"Mr. Miller did not deny when he was asked if he entered the house, Y/N, I'm giving you one chance to tell the truth." Vice Principal Manor told Y/N who turned to her with a pointed look.

"Miss, you know as well as I do that the accusation of a student against a teacher for inappropriate relations outside of school is not easily overlooked. Whatever Mr. Miller's gonna say to you, there would always be suspicions in your mind if he was telling the truth or not and yet, you could easily believe a student without proof? Why is that?" Y/N said, slamming her hand on the table, making them jump in their seats.

"Calm down, Ms. Y/L/N. We just want to get to the bottom of this, on why Ms. Sweet passed an inappropriate print of a short story, telling us that Mr. Miller agreed to it." One of the directors said.

"But he didn't. He gave her another chance to change the short story, he did not accept that story. Look, I lost my father, because of a case like this—" she was about to be stopped but she stood her ground. "No, I promise you this is relevant. Please." She said, looking at all of them. And when no one said anything or protested, she continued.

"My father was a professor back in Australia, one semester he had a student who was so wise for her age. He was amazed by her. Like Mr. Miller here, he showed favouritism, gave her special treatment, if you must say. But like Cairo here, she mistaken my father's favouritism for something different, something inappropriate. And when my father told her that it was strictly a student-teacher thing, she blew up. Reported my father, told baseless lies about him until he was gone, his career, his reputation, all gone. No one stood up for him. And then he shot himself in the head."

Y/N could see the uncomfortable fidgets of everyone inside the room. She could hear their thoughts loud and clear. But she was not done yet.

"So why do you think, Ma'ams and sirs, would I lie about something as incriminating as this? You're crucifying this man, who by the way, did nothing wrong. What? Because of a student, whose ego is so bruised by the rejection of her teacher? She was the one who came on to him, not the other way around, I can assure you that much." And she was done.

There was silence inside the room for a couple of moments before the head cleared his throat and straightened himself up. He gave Y/N a small smile before he nodded.

"We'll take your words in heavy consideration with regards to this case, Ms. Y/L/N. Thank you." He said.

Y/N nodded once. "I hope you make the right decision. Thank you for letting me talk." And she was out of the door just like that.

She waited outside of the meeting anxiously, her legs are bouncing and she's even paced back and forth until the door opens and out goes Mr. Miller.

"What did they say? Did you lose your job?" Y/N asked anxiously, staring at her teacher who smiled at her.

"Suspended. For the entire semester so I won't see you be a valedictorian. They took your words for it. Thank you." Mr. Miller said, holding a hand on Y/N's shoulder.

The taller girl smiled widely. "You're not gonna lose your job. But what are they gonna do? Students would speculate and all that. Are they gonna release an announcement?" She asked, her brows furrowed.

Mr. Miller nodded. "To prevent further rumours and speculations from ensuing, they're gonna release an announcement saying that all charges against me are dropped and untrue."

"How about the lady wife?"

"We've already filed for divorce. It's better that way."

"That's too bad. But hey, for what it's worth, maybe you'll find inspiration to write again." Y/N said with a huge smile, slight back handing her teacher's arm which made him laugh.

"And how would you know that?" Mr. Miller asked, looking at her with a knowing smile.

"Because I know that when I get to Harvard and you happen to have it in yourself to finally release a book, that I would brag to my mates that my English teacher back in Tennessee wrote it and would laugh at how unique it would be." Y/N said, a flash of pride seen in her eyes as she said that.

"You talk too much, let's get some coffee."

"You gotta apologize for being a dick to Coach Boris, you know? He's kinda like your only friend in this town." Y/N told her teacher when they got their coffee and finally sat down.

Mr. Miller hummed, looking kind of guilty as well. "I really do need to." He agreed.

"Buy his biscuits." She joked which made him laugh. "No, but seriously, Mr. Miller. Take accountability for what you said to him. He's not actually quite wrong, you know? He wasn't cleaning his own dirt, he knows it's there, but he owns up to it. I'm not saying that what he's doing is right, but you know what I mean."

Mr. Miller nodded, giving her a small smile. "Sometimes I forget that you're still young." He said, smiling proudly like a father.

"People tend to think of me that way, yeah." She smiled before they continued to talk about literature and harvard.

[tsunotarou]

     Urges, Nagi had… urges. At times he wishes he didn't have any urges, cause it's a hassle to search and find something to fulfill said fucking urge. He just finished streaming for twelve hours. What was he doing? Well… he played minecraft for an hour, then spent the rest on XIV doing his dailies, crafting, and weekly resets. In between that he had snacked on a few things; chips, candies, the bento box that Reo had personally made from one of his chefs. Shit like that. What's great about streaming is that nobody really knows what his personal life was. His chat did know that he lived with someone though they didn't know who that exact someone was.

      He'd get asked about Reo all the time. Didn't bother him, not one bit. Fans tend to stay with their idols until a controversial moment appears. Nagi made sure to keep any Reo-related things out of view from his camera. Including the damn toy that was proudly sitting on the nightstand, nearly in frame of said camera.  He'd earn a good portion today, too, promising his viewers that he'll do another subathon if soccer doesn't take all his time. He's still on hiatus. 

       He tripled checked to make sure everything was turned off on his screen; it wouldn't be appropriate if he just got up, stripped out of his clothes then changed into pajamas. He's doing his best to avoid being banned. Nagi perks up at the sound of the door being opened, twisting halfway in his chair to see Reo— walking into his ‘ man cave ‘. “Oh, welcome home, work was okay?” Ever since his boyfriend announced his pregnancy, Nagi's been more attentive? If that was one way to put it. It’s only been a week since that announcement… he was lingering his gaze on his stomach to see if anything would be different. Nope. Flat, toned, not even the smallest amount of chub around the heir’s perfect frame. When he’s bored he looks up things about pregnancy; how men can experience ‘ parental postpartum depression ‘, the birth giver can go through more hardships than the men can. It’s intriguing, he’ll give it that… but he doesn’t think Reo will do anything to risk their newborn child. Neither will he. He has no reason to do anything drastic, why would he? It’s a hassle to risk it all for something inevitable, right? He’s listening to Reo ramble about his day, brown hues fixated on the heir walk around the room that was decorated with their trophies from games, Nagi’s bookcase that was filled with manga and video games. There’s some pictures that were off to the far right side of the room; photos of them visiting England, Paris, others had their friends in it. 

               Reo’s talking about… some shit. His father? No, nobody wants to hear about how Mr. Mikage has his head constantly up his ass. When the day strikes that that old man kicked the bucket, he thinks he’ll propose to Reo right away. Fucked as ever, doing that is borderline psychotic. Maybe that’s too close to comfort. He didn’t care. The quicker the guy’s dead the faster he and Reo can live their lives normally. “ … Reo, “ he spoke up after the heir finished talking, finally taking a glance at him as he spun completely in his chair to face him. Nagi wanted him. Just for a little, he can be selfish without meaning to— it’s not his fault that he’s attracted to nothing else that wasn’t Reo. Reo’s his world, his life, his damn being. One hand lightly rubbed against his left thigh, over the bagged jeans he was wearing,  non-verbally signaling that he wanted the other to come closer.

  “... I want your mouth on me.” Vague. His expression stayed blank, fixated on the expression that would morph over the heir’s perfect face. Watching, waiting. Will he get it? The itch that had to be scratched? Possibly…. Reo’s in a good mood ( or so he thinks ), and he’ll be damned if he gets denied. That’ll be embarrassing. Where was he supposed to put all this pent up frustration? It would be less ‘ romantic ‘ if he outwardly told him that he wants his dick sucked, so…. Nagi takes the softer, ‘ pg-13 approach. ‘   " I'm frustrated. " Coded for: ' i want reo to take care of me. please. '

Being exhausted was such an understatement for the heir. Perhaps the cold, cloudy weather wasn't helping anyone, but Reo just felt downright exhausted after being at the bureau all day. It'd been like that the past few days. Exhausted, worn out --- all of the above. He didn't really remember being this tired after his day at the office, but now? It dragged, BAD. Reo was still just sitting in his car, even after pulling into the car port. Fingers turned the vehicle off yet the young male just continued to sit there for a bit, his arms slowly lowering into his lap. Violet eyes followed suit, looking down at his own hands silently. Soon enough, it's gonna get a bit difficult to see his lap. Let alone seeing where his feet land when walking. But, that was one of the ailments of carrying your child, right? A small smile graced Reo's face as he lazily rubbed his hand over his flat stomach for a moment ; as if he was about to gaslight himself about feeling his child move. " Let's go see what Daddy's been up to... "

After managing his way inside, after locking and arming everything outside, Reo took it upon himself to finally get comfortable. Bag down, coat off, scarf off, shoes off, slippers on, hair down --- all that was left was to shower and get into comfier clothes. But first, he had to check in on his boyfriend. He remembered the other mentioning something about streaming today, so it was only natural for Reo to pop in and see how that went.

" --- Naagi, I'm home. " Perhaps he should have knocked before just walking in on the other, but it was too late. Reo announced his arrival even before getting the door open. He wasn't met with any drastic measures to get him out of the room ; so it was safe to say that his boyfriend was done streaming. Instead, he was met with the other turning towards him --- welcoming him home and asking if work was alright. The gesture made him smile as the heir continued his way into Nagi's little streaming area.

" Yeah, it was alright. Just like any other day. " Reo walked deeper into the room, dragging his feet a bit. " Father had me consult with our multiple marketing agencies so we can plan for the press release at the end of the week. Then he pulled me in for another meeting about our finances, which I've told him multiple times that I have it handled, and--- " As soon as he heard Nagi speak his name, the heir turned his attention towards his boyfriend. Surely he can't blame him for not wanting to hear his rant about his father and work and business management.

" Hm? " He hummed, catching sight of Nagi fully turning towards him now. He had quite the blank expression on his face, which isnt too different from the usual Nagi expression that he wore. However, something about this one seemed... different. Reo cocked an eyebrow, and as soon as he did, Nagi continued. And when he did, violet eyes widened slightly.

I want your mouth on me. The way he said it sent a chill down his spine. Reo took a step forward, following another without realizing. What does he even mean by that? Did he want a kiss or something? No, apparently Nagi was frustrated. Why was he frustrated? Was he frustrated with Reo? Was it something he did or didn't do? Suddenly, Reo's exhaustion was washed away, and was now replaced with uncertainty as his brows knit together.

" --- Frustrated? " Reo frowned a bit, ending up right in front of Nagi's chair. Leaning down, the heir just cupped the other's face and pressed a kiss to his forehead. Hopefully that would make him feel at least a little better? " I'm sorry you're frustrated... Did you have a bad stream or something? " Thumbs brushed over pale cheeks gently. Another kiss was pressed between those brows. Nagi did say he wanted his mouth on him --- so Reo figured he could just litter him with kisses. That's what he wanted, right? " After I shower, I can play a game with you, if you'd like? Or we can watch a movie or something? "

[quincyhorst]

Ok, I'm gonna write some stuff about Ladji + Émile post-Ogre bc I want to. This doesn't have many ship elements minus towards the end i guess.

So, enjoy it. It is long, you have been warned, and it mentions few OCs.

After the FFI, Ladji was pretty much devastated. He had been turned into the worst keeper of the tournament by great margin, all because of a match nobody knew it was going to turn out the way it did.

Besides, one thing was to talk by the POV of a spectator or as a field player, and other thing was to actually experience being on the goal the whole time. When Ogre first started to score, Ladji took it as the usual, just small messups that he had enough confidence on fixing. But when the goals started to surpass the 9th mark, he started to feel nervous. He tried everything he could, using all his hissatsus (Even the 'incomplete') ones to stop it, but around the 15th goal, he had completely given up. At some point on the match, reserve keeper Émile begged for him to leave so he could take his spot, but Ladji refused. He had realized that, unfortunately, this was a battle neither of them would win. Besides, deep down, Lad knew that Émile would be even more powerless to stop the Ogre, something he did not want to see.

But if things got sour at Liocott, it sure as hell didn't become any better back in France. Whenever he went, he would hear all sorts of murmurs behind his back. The media tried to avoid shaming too much just a 14 year old boy, but let's be fair, feeding off drama its part of its nature. So for a long time, he became a huge talking topic... Even if all he wanted was just to be left alone.

Meanwhile, his mother tried all she could to stand up for him, refusing anything that could drag his son ever further. As for his father, well, the two barely spoke after he came home. All he got was just a "What a shame. You'll do better next time." from him. The words weren't bad at all, but the tone in which they were spoken made him feel... Uneasy.

A way to maybe fix things for him was to completely cut soccer from his life, and turn into another spot, like other RG members had tried to do. But while they succeded, all that Ladji got was even more rejection no matter the club he tried to enter. Simply enough, he was just seen as a symbol of bad luck. Nobody wanted to have "Unlucky Ladji" on their team.

Soon enough, Ladji gave up on fitting anywhere. He would go to school like usual, but he straight up refused to talk with anyone, just inmerse himself on his own art. It even came to the point he refused getting involved with ANYTHING related to Rose Griffon, wishing to distance himself from it. Not even Pierre, the same person that had gotten him into soccer, could change his mind.

However, he wouldn't be like this forever. And it started all with a letter he received one day, coming from no one but Émile. His words sounded pretty kind; apparently he had gotten his address thanks to the former captain, and all he wanted was to check on him. He asked about his life, his art, and in an unexpected turn, if the two could meet again one day. Although Ladji was relieved to see Émile happy despite everything, the latter request made him uncomfortable, almost making him throw away the letter entirely. His mother tried to step in and convince him to reply, but Ladji's ideals were set in stone: He just did not want to associate with anybody from RG ever again.

...But, was this going to be the case forever?

He thought so, until one night, in which his father was organizing the typical friend hangouts. With their -already- bad relationship Ladji kept his distance away, although he suddenly heard his name being spoken by the drunk old man. Without being noticed, he tried to eavesdrop the conversation on the other room. And then...

"...Yeah, I knew he was going to fail eventually... I'm not that surprised."

...This was officially the last straw. Not only the world had thrown him away by something out of his control, but now even his darn father. He tried to convince himself it was one a typical drunk rambling, but it was futile. With this, he was completely broken. If things were so desolate, then, what would be of him? On who he could rely on from now on?

And then, he remembered...

Rose Griffon. Pierre. And Émile's letter.

At that time, it had been quite a few weeks since he had received it... Would it be okay if he replied to it now? Or was it too late? Hell, he even thought it had been lost, but turns out Lad's mother had kept it around just in case. Determined, he wrote a short reply to what Émile had written, accepting his request after so long, and trying to plan out where they could meet. Now, it was time to see if a reply could come now...

And it did.

Upon some more exchanges, both Émile and Ladji set their own meeting spot; at the reserve's keeper luxurious house. During this first encounter Ladji couldn't help but feel rather intimidated, realizing the huge class diference both had. But at least to his relief, Émile was upbeat and bright like always, and his home was quite comfortable to stay in.

From that day on, both keepers started to reunite more often. Sometimes in Émile's house, few times at Ladji's, and in some occassions they went out somewhere. As weeks, months and even years passed by, both boys forged a strong relationship with each other, bonding happily over art. They would often watch few of the movies from Émile's collection, or in other occasions to draw something together. And even despite the father-son resentments, both the Razzanos and the Paara got on well too.

Overall, Émile's friendship had made Ladji's life brighter than ever, even making him drop his dumb grudges and reconnect with the other Rose Griffon members again; specially with Pierre (And his new bestie Julian).

As adulthood came to stay, Émile wanted to pursue cinema "by personal reasons", and he offered Ladji to study a similar career too. Both decided to move to an apartment nearby the well-known Paris University 1.78, in which they became students of. Now with the two in their final year, their teachers are asking a final project from both; and while Paara is still unsure what to do, Émile just got an interesting idea: To make a documentary film about Rose Griffon! It's still unknown how that idea came to be, but he justifies it as "A way for us to tell what truly happened there!". Despite still unsure of the idea, Ladji wants to support him. Though, there's some things he first needs to deal with...

Including his unrequited feelings towards him.

[river-bottom-nightmare]

Reverse batfam headcanons please centred on dickiee

i think about this entirely too often but yes yes of course.

languages were simultaneously the most simple and most complex thing dick had ever encountered in his long nine years of living. everyone in circ d’caleé spoke multiple different languages, and they'd lived in each other's shoes for so long that the travelling troupe developed their own little language, a mixture of everything and anything that could be understood. in addition to that, everywhere they went, dick picked up local dialects and accents with a tip of a hat and flip of his feet. of course, that made it a bit difficult to properly communicate when he had to live with the waynes. while bruce, tim, and jason could speak a smattering of other languages, english was what they defaulted to first and foremost. damian was fluent in both arabic and nepali first and formost, those just happened to be two languages that dick didn't speak very fluently. cassandra was just now getting the hang of spoken language with a bit of sign language thrown in. so the first few months of dick's shiny new home in wayne manor, everyone fumbled around words and phrases and vague gestures until they settled into hesitantly speaking french and attempting to convince dick to learn fluent english.

jason didn't like having a younger brother, he didn't. especially since that little brother was dick grayson. after all of the heartbreak and loss and weight of malediction bruce had lived with his entire life, jason could almost proudly say that he was one of the few people in the world to drive bruce out of his head, to get him to smile while taking jason out for ice cream, to sit him down and watch football with him, to make him laugh. and then here comes this upstart little brat who couldn't keep both feet on the ground for the life of him and thought football was actually soccer and who could make bruce laugh like it was fuckin' easy. who could so easily clamber up bruce's shoulders for a hug and beam as bruce ruffled his hair and sob into bruce's chest in the middle of the night when everyone was supposed to be asleep. jason had spent years coaxing bruce out of his shell, step by painful step, and dick made it happen with two backflips and a cheeky pun. it made jason's blood boil, the way dick never appreciated what he had, what he could do. the brat had taken to following him around, both in the cave, staring with awe as jason went through training routines, and in the manor, hopping into an armchair and asking jason to read a book aloud for him. it was irritating, just like it was irritating when dick popped jason's latest baking experiment into his mouth and loudly exclaimed how utterly delicious it was, just like it was irritating when dick dragged him to the aerial set bruce had installed in the batcave and asked him to watch his new routine. no matter what the rest of jason's stupid family said, dick was definitely not growing on jason. they could take their smiles and coos over the two "babies of the family" and shove them up their asses.

dick didn't understand why exactly bruce was so overprotective over the smallest things. he never let dick travel anywhere alone, regardless if it was as far away as france or as close as the one gelato place left in gotham. it was so unfair, because dick heard that bruce let jason run off to ethiopia of all places, and only went after him because cass had told bruce about it the minute jason left. he never let dick hang out with his friends, no matter how much dick asked to have a sleepover at wally's or go hang out with donna. on the rare occasions he said yes, they were only allowed to come to the manor. it was unreasonable, because bruce let tim run wild with young justice, despite the stories of tim going crazy after everyone in his team had died. tim wasn't crazy, as far as dick could tell, just a little paranoid and high-strung. also everyone on his team was alive, so dick didn't know what roy was talking about. cass didn't really want to go out anywhere, preferring to stick in gotham with her and tim's friend stephanie, but she had free reign over the city! and dick wasn't allowed to fight any major threats by himself at all. damian had battled deathstroke at his age, and dick was pretty sure damian was still in contact with the league of assassins, but dick couldn't even fight penguin with bruce insisting he be there for backup. he was so overprotective it made dick's blood boil.

being around dick physically hurt tim sometimes. not the crass (yet still somehow funny?) jokes jason made about dick jumping into body-slamming hugs and crash landing into laps so fiercely that even tim could feel it. but it hurt,,,,emotionally, so to speak. dick was just,,,,,dick was so much like stephanie, it ached. to be more specific, stephanie before. steph before she'd desperately bid for bruce's attention and landed herself at black mask's feet for her troubles. steph before the power tools dug her life away bit by bit until she was just gone. steph before she'd come back with green eyes and rage splitting at the seams of her scarred skin. steph before she realized that black mask had killed her and put tim in a wheelchair for the rest of his life for trying to avenge his best friend, and bruce had done next to nothing. tim would sit in his clocktower and force a smile onto his face as dick rambled on and on about the most meaningful of meaningless things, as dick shoved new foods he'd never tried before into his face, as dick laughed loud and bright and clear, trying to forget a time when steph would do the same. she smiles now, grabs lunch with him and cass, wakes up on days when there isn't any green in her vision, but she'll never be who she used to. and tim prays that there never comes a day when dick ends up like her.

dick feels,,,,,isolated sometimes, compared to the rest of his new family. or no, maybe isolated isn't the right word. set apart, maybe, or differentiated. both damian and cass had spent their lives being beat and broken and put back together supposedly stronger than before until they were almost wiped away entirely. steph and jason had both grown up poor and hungry and flinching back from their fathers, bending under gotham's merciless weight. (then steph had died, and come back worse than ever imagined.) tim had grown up lonely, had learned to fend for himself, had turned his name into a half-revered, half-feared whisper even when his legs were taken from him. maybe dick could have related a bit to bruce, but bruce had put himself through so much hardship and so much suffering in an attempt to keep himself from ever being hurt again. in contrast, dick hadn't gone through nearly as much. he'd been happy before the circus came to gotham, happy and cared for and loved. but that didn't mean he couldn't still help. he could sit and listen as they raged, because their anger couldn't touch him; he had no part in it. he could coax out smiles from their stone walls and laugh enough for all of them put together. he could take a name that had previously only been associated with death and heartache and turn it into the light and joy of gotham. he could dust the stillness from the curtains and breathe life back into wayne manor. and that, for him, was enough.

tag list: @woahjaybird @birdy-bat-writes @anothertimdrakestan @subtleappreciation @screennamealreadyused @pricetagofficial @catxsnow @bikoncon @maplumebleue-blog-blog @sundownridge @thatsthewhump @xatanna-troy @red-hood-redemption @capricorn-stark @batshit-birds @comics-observer

[catxsnow]

LET’S HAVE A BABY B.W.

Request: hi idk if ur requests are open but i saw ur post for bruce wayne! can you do a bruce wayne x reader where they take young damian to a school fair or event and they get to watch him be a kid and then bruce is like "fuck it let's have another kid" and it's all fluff and lovey idk it just seems so sweet ily.

Warning: fluff

A/N: This was just... the cutest fucking request... Thank you for sending it in I loved writing it 

GIF not mine

Word count: 1.9k

Damian Wayne might not have been the best at people skills, but he sure as hell was one amazing soccer player. After you and Bruce had him enrolled in school, you thought it was a good idea for him to join a sports team as well. He was already so athletically built, it made sense for him to do something fun with it.

So, as much as he grumbled about having to join a stupid team to waste his time and lessen his activities as Robin, he found himself enjoying the sport. It was a good way for him to let out his frustration without someone getting maimed or injured (mostly). And even though he didn't like his teammates that much, he tolerated them enough that he could learn from them.

It was great to see him enjoy himself so much. Ever since he arrived at your home, you didn't see him have fun very often. He was always a serious boy and as much as you tried to make him feel welcomed, he was always so cold. Attending his soccer games would at least show him some support - he appreciated it even if he didn't show it.

It took a long time for Damian to finally warm up to you. Once he did though, there was no stopping his unconditional love for you. If anyone dared to insult you, or the press put a bad word towards you, he was there to make sure that they knew that they were wrong. He wanted everyone to think of you highly.

You and Bruce had gotten married not long after he told you that he was Batman. He knew that he didn't want to spend his life with anyone else other than you. You supported him in his decisions, cared for him when he needed you the most, and no matter what the city of Gotham or his own friends thought of him, you were there with him threw it all.

Bruce wasn't perfect, you knew this. He had made lots of mistakes in his life but if there was one thing that you admired most about him, it was that he always was ready to learn from them. Bruce was the love of your life and no matter the kind of mistakes he made, you loved all of his flaws.

On Saturday morning, you, Bruce, and Damian were all loaded up in one of your many cars to take him to his soccer game. While Damian sat quietly in the back, you could tell that he was buzzing with excitement. You never expected him to enjoy the sport so much, but you were glad that he did.

Bruce kept one hand on the wheel and reached over to intertwine you fingers with the other. He brought your hand up to his lips to kiss the back of it. After years of being together, he still craved to touch you in any way possible. In public, he was always grasping your hand or you would have your arm looped around his.

Never in your life would you have thought that the great Batman would have such a need to be close to the one he loved. You guessed that he had already had so many close calls with the people he cared about that he wasn't willing to risk you getting close to the same fate. Bruce loved you more than he had ever loved before.

You were the person that drove him to be better. You were the reason that he got up in the morning. You were the reason that he pushed himself so hard to keep this city safe.

As soon as the car was parked, Damian leaped out of it with his duffel bag over his shoulder and was already running towards the field. You couldn't help but giggle at his excitement.

"Did you ever think Damian would get so excited about something so... normal when he arrived to the Manor?" You asked Bruce as the two of you got out of the car. It was a beautiful sunny day out and you couldn't be more happy to be outside to enjoy it.

"Not even close," Bruce shook his head. He grasped your hand once more as the two of you walked over to the bleachers set up for all the other parents. "I think you changed him a lot. He's so much more easy going then he once was. He looks up to you in ways that he'll never look up to me."

"Guess that's the motherly instincts inside me," you beamed up at him. Bruce stopped walking to kiss you. The eyes of all the other parents were gazing at you and those of them that weren't, certainly were now. As much as you loved Bruce Wayne, you didn't love his publicity and fame. "Everyone's watching us."

"Good," Bruce smirked. He was never shy when it came to showing his love towards you. After being the billionaire playboy for so long, he was used to having people stare at him with girls on his arm. Now, he had his beautiful wife and the only person that he ever truly fell in love with to show off.

"Come on, my love," you tugged on his hand before he could make even more of a scene. The two of you sat right at the front and away from anyone else. Sunglasses rested over your eyes from the glare of the hot sun. "I sometimes miss being so normal like this," you admitted to him.

The life you lived before meeting Bruce was a humble one. He was never used to wondering if bills could be paid that month or having to take the bus to work. Living a life of lavish made you forget your roots sometimes. Being able to sit on the uncomfortable metal bleachers with all these other parents made you remember what it used to be like.

"You're free to leave me any day," Bruce joked. You smacked his chest lightly. He knew that there wasn't a chance that you would ever leave him. You loved him too much to even consider it.

The whistle from the ref blew and the game started. Damian was on the field, his jersey tucked into his shorts and his socks so high they nearly covered his knees. He looked like a regular kid out there. It was a small bit of life that you wished for him. The concentration on his face and the hint of a smile on his lips told you and Bruce that he was enjoying himself.

"We should take him out for ice cream after, it's hot out today," you offered. Gotham city was never kind with its weather, the days that it was truly nice out were the days that you would never be caught inside. Even when Bruce refused to leave his cave and enjoy the son.

"You mean, you want to go get ice cream later," Bruce raised an eyebrow at you. He knew you too well. You shrugged, pretending like you had no idea what he was talking about. Bruce only rolled his eyes at you, but agreed. "We can go, only if Damian wants to." You pouted at his response.

If there was one thing that Bruce Wayne couldn't resist, it was your pout. The second that your bottom lip stuck out, he swooped down to kiss you. "Fine, we'll go either way," he changed his mind. You grinned at him.

Bruce's eyes darted over to the field. Damian had gotten the ball and was darting down the field all while managing to dodge all the defense. He had been bumped up a league when he tried out for the team, it wasn't fair to the other kids with his skills. Even now, he was managing to dodge and weave with all kinds of miraculous tricks that he had never learned during practice.

Damian had passed all the defense and was closing in on the goalie. He was incredible, it was like nothing could stop him. Even the goalie looked nervous as he approached. With a final move, Damian kicked the soccer ball right in the net with it just barely missing the mitts of the goalie.

"Whoo!" You stood up and cheered, unable to contain yourself. "Go Damian! That's my son!" The words passed your lips before you could stop them. Damian wasn't your son, he never referred to you as his mother and you never called him your son before. Damian had a mother, even if she was a terrible one.

You expected Damian to look over at you with a scowl on his lips at your cheer. However, when he locked eyes on you, with his father looking up at you with pride, he couldn't help but beam a smile at you.

Damian ran back to his team, accepting the hi-gives that they were giving him. You might not have been his mother, but hearing you say that he was showed how much you cared about him. It didn't matter if you weren't related by blood, you cared more about him than his real mother did.

You sat back down in your seat with a sheepish look on your face. Bruce grabbed your hand once more, this time playing with your wedding ring. He was just as surprised as you were to call Damian your own child. It had a nice sound to it though, one that he could get used to hearing.

"I'm sorry," You mumbled.

"For what?" Bruce furrowed his eyebrows at your sudden apology.

"Damian isn't my son. Thalia is his mother, I know that," You sighed. Bruce threw his arm around you shoulder and kissed the top of your head. There was no reason for you to feel bad about this. Damian was obviously pleased by your affection, you had nothing to worry about. Yet, you did.

"Let's have our own baby," Bruce suddenly stated. He had adopted so many kids that he always just assumed that you were content with the family you had been given. However, the more he thought about it, the more he realized how much he would love to have a little kid with both your genes in their veins.

"What?" You asked, shocked by his offer. He never spoke of wanting his own kid to raise. Damian was unexpected, he didn't even know about him for over a decade. You always assumed Bruce was just too busy to have an infant to take care of as well.

"Let's have a baby," Bruce said once more. The biggest smile that he had ever seen lit up your face. Your hands grasped the side of his face and you pulled him in for a kiss, not caring that everyone was watching you once more. "I love you, (Y/N)."

"I love you too, Bruce," You grinned. The idea of having your own child with him excited you more than anything else. Taking care of Dick and the others was always something that you loved, but it wasn't the same as having your own child. You never got to see them born or their first steps.

There was no one else in the world that you wanted to have a kid with. Bruce was the love of your life, with his flaws, his crazy life, everything.

"Let's get started on that tonight."

[texanredrose]

Showing Off

Inspired by prompts submitted to @unsteadyshade on tumblr (here), that I reblogged earlier, or AO3 (here). Also, yes, I'm very much American but I decided to use the non-American lingo in regards to soccer here. Don't look at me expecting logic, my friends, I just do what the winds of whimsy tell me.

---

Blake pulled the hotel door shut behind her, following after her teammate and best friend who was further down the hall and carrying their tote bags. While she didn’t hold the same superstitious beliefs, Yang swore up and down they’d lose unless they brought along their ‘lucky’ practice ball; after going back to retrieve it, the woman seemed satisfied and started walking towards the elevator while Blake caught up. “This is ridiculous, you know that right?”

“Hey, don’t sass me; we’ve never lost a road game when we’ve had the ball,” Yang said, already wearing her keeper jersey, the material stretched a bit thin over her muscled frame. It had seen better days but, much like the ball, the woman refused to replace it, especially during their run up to the championship. “A little extra luck can’t hurt anyone. Except the other team, I guess.”

“It can make us late, though,” she said, one of her ears flicking back as one of the doors they passed opened and closed- had to be other patrons of the hotel, seeing as the rest of their team was already downstairs by the bus. “Which would mean we forfeit.”

“We’re not running that late,” Yang replied, throwing a grin her way. Then, lilac eyes were drawn behind them and lingered a moment before her lips pulled into a very specific smirk. Blake knew that smirk- it was the ‘oh, I’ve got an idea, you might not like it but you’re gonna do it’ expression, because aside from being one of the best keepers in the region, Yang Xiao Long was also ridiculously persuasive. Dangerously so, in fact. “Hey. Toss me the ball.”

“Your hands are full.”

“Wasn’t going to use my hands.”

Blake narrowed her eyes, vividly remembering the last time someone tried doing agility drills down a hotel hallway, and picked up on the subtle look behind them. After a few more steps, she turned to say something about the game to Yang as an excuse to glance behind them. And then, it all made sense.

A bit further down the hallway were two women, both of whom were dressed in sharp business attire, and the moment Blake returned her attention to Yang, she pointed at herself and mouthed the word ‘tall’ with a wink.

“C’mon, toss me the ball,” Yang said, coming to a stop.

Blake glanced at her watch and, although a touch reluctant, decided they had enough time for a little demonstration. Tossing the ball towards Yang, she stepped back to lean against the wall while the woman started juggling while still carrying both totes. With her best friend as a distraction, Blake could take a longer look at the women Yang was trying to impress, and realized a few things, chiefly: they weren’t just any business women following behind them.

They were the Schnee sisters.

Atlesian elites, borderline nobility, some of the richest and most powerful people in the world; the Schnee sisters were in the news for one reason or another practically every day. Blake was more familiar with the attitude and mentality of the younger sister, Weiss Schnee, because it was her actions that Blake, as a faunus, found most… interesting. All the way up until she assumed control of her family’s company, the woman didn’t seem much at odds with the stuffy, bigoted, narrow minded people found in her social circle. After, though, she not only did an unapologetic one-eighty in the other direction, she became so aggressively progressive that it created a wide schism in the highest echelons of Atlesian society. More than once, she’d deployed the surprisingly well equipped private SDC security forces to protect protestors from Atlesian police and military personnel, and paid an exorbitant amount of money to keep those protestors out of jail, either by paying off bonds or hiring attorneys. In a relatively short amount of time, she’d become a juggernaut for social changes, and the careful monopoly her scheming father had built became the ultimate tool for exacting those changes.

Blake could admire the woman’s sense of justice as well as her commitment to it.

The elder, though, she only knew by name. Winter Schnee stood on her sister’s side when it came to social issues and did something tangentially related to the SDC but, beyond that, the details were a blur. She’d never heard Yang mention either sister in anything more than a passing comment while they pursued the news together waiting for flights, certainly nothing she could recall that would explain why the woman wanted Winter’s attention specifically. However, it also wasn’t out of the ordinary for Yang to show off a bit for pretty ladies when presented the opportunity.

By the time Blake had made a decision herself, Yang had run through every trick she knew and had popped the ball up to balance on her chest. She motioned for the woman to pass the ball, which earned her a raised brow at first before lilac eyes twinkled and she popped her shoulders back to set the ball in motion.

Blake caught it before it hit the ground with her foot, stalling the ball’s momentum entirely for a moment before she began juggling herself. For her, it was less a skill she’d developed for showing off as one of honing control of her body and the ball, but she knew a few tricks, moving slightly away from the wall so she could juggle the ball in a circle around her while still facing Yang. It meant juggling with her heel behind her back briefly but she managed it without losing control and that prompted a low murmur from their audience. Impressively, she couldn’t make out the words, which made her think the speaker specifically didn’t want her to hear.

After transitioning between using her feet and knees, the faunus popped the ball up high enough for her head to get under it, her feline ears laying flat against her skull to prove she wasn’t using them to help her balance the ball in place, which earned a brief chuckle from Yang. Then, she began bouncing it atop her head while moving her head just so to get the ball rotating before allowing it to roll off her head so she could catch it with her foot.

With a glance to confirm Yang was prepared, Blake passed her the ball, and the two of them traded it for a while, trying to catch the other off guard to make the eventual save and pass even more impressive. It was a show of control and dexterity and, had they planned it, would’ve had a better end to the display. Unfortunately, a short pass from Yang resulted in both of them trying to save it, which sent the ball bouncing harmlessly down the hall until it came to a stop at Winter’s feet.

Then again, given the glint in Yang’s eye, perhaps that was her intention. “Oh, sorry about that. We’re just… warming up.”

With a jerk of her head, the faunus realized her friend was requesting some back-up. “Yes, we, uh… are on our way to a game. The semi-finals, actually.”

“We can probably get ya seats, if you want.” A nonchalant shrug. “You should come watch us play.”

The sisters exchanged a look then. The elder, questioning, and the younger… Blake couldn’t put a word to that look. It was equal parts goading and secretive, and perhaps something else dancing in blue eyes. She would need a lot more time to decipher that look.

And she found herself wanting it.

Then, without a word, Winter put her foot on top of the ball and rolled it back, popped it up, and… began juggling with just as much precision as they’d displayed. Except, unlike them- bedecked in jerseys, loose shorts, and tennis shoes- she was doing it in a form fitting pants suit and dress shoes, hampering her mobility somewhat though it hardly impacted her performance, executing all the tricks Yang had done. Then, she passed it to her sister, who, in high heels and a skirt, proceeded to do the same, keeping many of the tricks low so her skirt wouldn’t ride up. Which, of course, meant she had less room to manipulate the ball, had to move faster to get into position to execute each trick, and when she did a version of Blake’s around the world one, the faunus felt her mouth pop open in astonishment.

Once satisfied, Weiss passed the ball back to her sister, who caught it one handed.

“We appreciate the invitation. However...” Winter tossed the ball, hard enough that it hit Yang’s chest before the keeper thought to catch it. “We unfortunately have a prior engagement that requires our attention.”

The sisters began walking past the gobsmacked footballers and Blake didn’t miss the look Weiss directed her way as she spoke. “After you’ve won your game, perhaps you’ll join us in the hotel’s hot tub?”

Blake didn’t notice how close they were to their floor’s elevator until Winter reached over and pushed the button to call a car. “Unless, of course, you have your own post victory traditions that take precedence.”

Yang just shook her head while Blake managed to find her voice. “No. We don’t. Have traditions, I mean.”

“Excellent,” Weiss said, stepping into the car the moment the doors twanged open and hitting a button inside, smiling in a way that… well… Blake would call it seductive in another setting and found herself hard pressed not to call it that now. “We’ll see you there. Don’t be late.”

When the doors closed, both Blake and Yang were left standing in the hallway, both just… recovering from how mentally unprepared they were for their tricks to be used against them to great effect. After another moment, Yang turned to look at her, holding up the ball.

“Lucky. Ball.”

Blake resolved to not argue that point and instead focus on winning the game, ushering her teammate towards the stairs rather than waiting for the next car.

---

Weiss leaned back against the wall of the elevator. While they’d chosen to book this particular hotel for their business trip specifically because their favorite football team would be staying there, and they’d opted to not use the penthouse suite because they wanted a chance to catch glimpses of the team while going to and from meetings, neither expected to meet their personal favorite players in the hallway like that. Weiss had followed Blake’s career since college and, while responsibilities had prevented her from attending as many games as she would’ve liked, she always recorded them and watched them later. Up until the encounter in the hallway, that was how she and Winter had planned to spend their evening.

Now, though…

“Would it be inappropriate for me to bring her jersey to the hot tub in the hopes she’ll sign it?”

Winter made a considering noise. “Bring the jersey, leave a suitable pen in the room.”

“How would that accomplish her signing it?”

“Invite her back to the room.” Her elder sister smiled, and a twinkle in her eyes spoke to the crude humor of a former soldier. “I’ll be… elsewhere tonight.”

“Spare me the details,” she replied as they reached the ground floor. “... but thank you for the idea.”

As a general rule, Weiss was never overly fond of business meetings, but she found herself looking forward to the end of this one more than usual, if only to see where the night led.

---

Blake pushed out a nervous breath as she and Yang made their way towards the hotel’s pool area. The game itself ended in a shootout and while Blake had made the final goal that secured them a berth to the finals, she couldn’t relax quite yet. Post game celebrations usually involved Blake joining the rest of the team for a glass of champagne or a toast of some sort before the others prepared for a night on the town to celebrate the win. Most of the time, Yang went with them, leaving the faunus plenty of time to wind down with a book of her choice and a peacefully quiet hotel room. Even on the odd occurrence when Yang didn’t join the others, the blonde still found other ways of occupying herself that preserved Blake’s quiet.

So, rushing back to the hotel room to change into their swimwear before the hotel shut down their pool was a major break from their normal routine, and knowing they’d be going to meet two very beautiful and apparently incredibly talented women… well, she was just a touch nervous.

Unfortunately, her best friend didn’t share that anxiety.

“One piece or bikini?”

“What?”

“Which do you think they’re wearing?” The blonde shrugged, the tips of her hair brushing the back of her neck. Normally, Yang wore her hair down or in a thick braid for games, but seeing as she didn’t have the energy to deal with drying her hair again after the quick post game shower they’d rushed through. “I’m hoping Winter’s wearing a bikini or a two piece. She’s gotta have some abs, right?”

“You have an eight pack; what does it matter to you if she has abs?”

“It’s about the commitment.” With a smirk, she gestured towards her own abs, prominently on display thanks to her yellow bikini top. Along with a darkening bruise around her left eye, there were bruises along her ribs from a few sliding tackles that had almost sidelined the keeper entirely, but Yang was a bit tougher than their opponents expected. “It takes work to get these and keep ‘em.”

“And what’s the point of wearing a bikini top if you’re just going to wear swim trunks for bottoms?” She arched a brow, more comfortable poking holes in her best friend’s thought process than confronting reality as they neared their destination. While she, too, opted for bikini style swimwear, Blake had chosen a black top with matching bottoms and a light purple sarong around her hips. She might claim to be somewhat modest in comparison, but she was showing a bit more skin- which, rationally, she could justify because they were getting in a hot tub, not attending a gala, showing a bit of skin should be expected-

Blake shook her head, trying to calm her anxiety again.

“Gotta make her work for the goods,” Yang replied, either oblivious to or pointedly ignoring her nerves. Then again, perhaps she had a few of her own that she was hiding, considering the way she reached up to fiddle with her hair. “Besides, my bottoms always ride up. Trunks are more comfortable. Not all of us have an ass that won’t quit.”

“Not judging, I just think it’s… silly. To focus on what they’ll be wearing.”

“What else is there to think about?”

“How hard we’re going to flirt.” She pointed out, tilting her head thoughtfully. “What to say, how to say it… what result we’re hoping for.”

“Don’t overthink it, Blakey.” A laugh. “Let’s just have some fun.”

They came to a set of glass double doors that granted entry to the pool area of the hotel… at which point they realized the pool officially closed half an hour ago. Yang cursed under her breath as Blake’s shoulders slumped. They’d missed their chance, it seemed.

“Oh, Miss Belladonna? Miss Xiao Long?”

“That’s us,” Yang replied as a hotel employee approached them, already grabbing a key card attached to his lanyard and holding it up to a sensor beside the doors.

“Here. Both Miss Schnees are waiting for you.”

The footballers exchanged a look, surprised by the special treatment. True, they were quasi celebrities themselves, but this hotel handled all teams from the league, which meant they weren’t any more famous than the average patron. Then again, the Schnee sisters had quite a bit more clout than they did and could probably swing something like being given unfettered access to the pool area.

With a shrug and a smirk, Yang opened one door and they entered, spotting the sisters sitting in chairs beside the hot tub. Both were reading magazines, with fresh drinks on a table between them, and were… well… Blake found she couldn’t immediately discern their taste in swimwear because both sisters were wearing football jerseys. And not just any jerseys.

“I see you took us up on our offer,” Weiss said, getting to her feet and motioning towards the hot tub before reaching for the hem of the jersey to pull it off. At a glance, Blake could tell it was the special limited edition run from a few years ago, and her number no less. And while she would be sorely tempted to assume the woman had found one last minute, the careful way Weiss placed the jersey on the chair- not dropped or thrown carelessly- made her think otherwise. Only then did she notice the woman had opted for a light blue one piece with a single strap, leaving her upper back mostly exposed. “Splendid.”

“Congratulations on your win.” Winter also set aside her magazine and stood up, revealing she was wearing Yang’s limited edition jersey, and she took the same amount of care in removing it and setting it aside. Much to her friend’s delight, the elder of the sisters did wear a bikini of a darker blue and also sported some abs, though they lacked the definition of Yang’s. “A hard fought victory like that certainly deserves a celebration.”

As the sisters entered the hot tub, Blake looked over to Yang, who seemed equal parts excited and… intimidated- and that second one was hard. But what intimidated her ultimately evolved into a challenge and Yang never backed down from a challenge. For her part, the faunus just found herself wondering if, perhaps, they had a different idea of who needed to impress who than the sisters did.

Removing her sarong, Blake tossed it onto the chair Weiss had used and went to the hot tub, noting how the sisters had chosen to sit across from each other. She hesitated in entering, if only because she didn’t want to be too forward. Yang, of course, took the seating as a goading taunt of sorts, and settled herself in the tub hardly an arm’s length away from Winter. Probably closer than would be considered polite but neither seemed uncomfortable or surprised by the decision, so Blake opted to test the waters herself, sitting approximately the same distance away from Weiss but also across from Yang.

Almost instantly, she let out a sigh of relief; while focusing on getting to the hot tub, she’d done her best to ignore the lingering aches and pains from the game. Now, though, she could feel herself relaxing as the warmth began sinking into her muscles. Usually, she just focused on stretches before bed and had a tub of balm if that failed.

“Should probably do this more often,” Yang said, obviously relaxing herself. “Forgot how good hot tubs feel after a rough game.”

“Speaking of that, did you get checked out?” Winter gestured towards her eye. “You took a few nasty hits. I’m surprised seventeen didn’t get thrown out of the game.”

“The Vipers always play hard.” The blonde tried to shrug off the concern. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

“You took a few shots, too.” Weiss pointed out. “How’s your knee?”

“I’ve taken worse falls.” She gave a wry smile. “But I’m beginning to suspect you know that.”

“I’ll admit I’ve been a fan of yours since your college days.” The woman shrugged one shoulder, feigning nonchalance- and Blake only suspected it was a show because blue eyes didn’t meet hers as she spoke. “I hardly think that is remarkable. You’re one of the best strikers the league has ever seen.”

“Did you ever consider playing?” At the curious look she received, Blake inclined her head. “It took me years to develop those tricks, and you did them better. That speaks to a remarkable amount of skill.”

“Well, I’ll admit I entertained the idea a time or two. Ultimately, I chose my path, and it didn’t leave enough room to become a superstar footballer.” She shook her head. “I don’t regret it but, I suppose, part of the reason I practice those little tricks to keep the dream alive.”

Her ears perked up, catching something between the lines. “Part of the reason? What’s the other part?”

“Why, to catch your eye, of course.”

“My eye?” She couldn’t help the surprised chuckle that bubbled up from her chest. “You’re Weiss Schnee; you don’t really need to try to catch anyone’s attention.”

The woman’s expression faltered then. “Yes, well… unfortunately, the sort of attention I garner on my own is markedly less… impressive, by some standards.”

“I’d think those people have poor standards, then,” she said, opting to tip her hand as well. “You’ve managed to galvanize social changes that have taken some kingdoms entire decades in a matter of years. Comparatively, bouncing a ball’s hardly anything. Don’t you think?”

At that Weiss laughed, a bright, high, unrestrained sound that Blake rather liked hearing. “If I thought that, I wouldn’t be trying so hard to impress you, now would I? And you shouldn’t discount your own efforts outside the pitch.”

The faunus felt her lips quirk up in amusement. They’d been watching each other from afar all this time; the only thing she didn’t account for was the magnetic attraction that being in the woman’s presence seemed to engender. And, as she made an excuse of stretching to cover her moving slightly closer to Weiss, it seemed she wasn’t the only one feeling it. The woman, mysteriously, decided to move and dip her shoulders beneath the water’s surface long enough to bring out a lovely light pink blush to her skin, and when she sat back against the tub’s wall, she was a bit closer to Blake.

Surreptitiously, she snuck a glance towards Yang, if only to gauge how much teasing she would be in for on the flight back home the following day. She quickly realized her best friend wouldn’t have a leg to stand on when it came to teasing; somehow, Winter had coaxed Yang into her lap and was apparently giving the footballer a message. For her part, Yang seemed to be in a luxurious sort of heaven, eyes half lidded and with a silly sort of smile on her lips.

“Forgive my sister,” Weiss said, a sardonic smile on her lips. “I’m impressed she’s shown this much restraint.”

“I can hear you,” the woman replied, blue eyes flashing towards her younger sister. “But that can be remedied. Yang?”

“Hmmm?”

“I think this would work better if you were lying down.”

Lilac eyes widened as the woman tilted her head, glancing over towards Blake. With a small nod, the faunus made the silent agreement to avoid their hotel room for a few hours. Frankly, Yang had slept in a few lobbies over the years, when she’d returned too drunk to be quiet and not wanting to risk waking the faunus. She could spend a night elsewhere to return the favor.

“Yeah… I think you’re right.”

As the two got out of the hot tub and retrieved towels, Blake returned her attention to the woman beside her. “You don’t have to try, you know.”

“Pardon?”

“Impressing me. You don’t have to try.” Blake tilted her head, leaning back to brace her arms against the rim of the hot tub. “I think that’s the part I don’t like about being with the league. The mandatory press conferences and the rules- sometimes, I just want to get straight on the bus after a game and go back to reading my book, not sit and play twenty questions for an hour. It’s like… wearing an ill fitting mask.”

“You handle them remarkably well.” Weiss smirked. “But I suppose I say that because I speak my mind a bit too bluntly during press conferences. I admire your restraint.”

“I admire your candor,” she replied, very carefully laying one arm along the tub’s rim behind the woman. “I really liked the interview you did with the Atlas Economist. It looked like you were going to give that guy an aneurysm.”

“That would’ve been impossible.” A light chuckle as she moved closer, lowering her voice ever so slightly to coax Blake into leaning closer. “He would need a brain first.”

They both laughed, using their amusement to hide their shifting movements until Weiss was pressed into her side ever so slightly. They continued talking and laughing quietly until sitting in the hot tub started becoming uncomfortable. However, the faunus did her best to ignore it simply because she didn’t want to part ways quite yet. Weiss was… a lot of things- emphatic, sharp tongued, witty- but above all good company that Blake wasn’t keen on losing quite yet. However, she couldn’t ignore that the heat of the tub was taking a toll on them both.

“Your skin’s turning red,” she said, running a thumb over the ball of Weiss’ shoulder. “We should probably get out.”

“I suppose you’re right.”

They both stood and exited the hot tub, grabbing towels to start drying themselves off. While doing that, she wracked her brain for some excuse to continue their conversation but found herself coming up woefully empty. Every suggestion she could come up with either sounded ridiculous or… risque. It wasn’t like she could simply invite the woman back to her hotel room for some tea.

“Thank you for the invite, by the way,” she said, trying to buy herself some time. “A good soak after a tough game feels… fantastic. I don’t often indulge.”

Blue eyes lit up as the woman wrapped a towel around her hips. “I’m more than glad you accepted. However, if you wish to… pay me back… I’ve been meaning to ask for your autograph.”

Blake raised a brow. The request seemed… deceptively innocent, especially with the way Weiss was looking at her. “I can do that. You want me to sign your jersey?”

“If it isn’t too much trouble.” The barest moment of silence, and then she tilted her head. “Unfortunately, the only pen I have is in my room.”

Blake took a step closer, pleased to see she actually stood a few inches taller than the woman when she wasn’t wearing heels, and lowered her voice. “Well… I suppose we’ll have to go to your room, then.” A pause. “And, maybe, we’ll think of something else I can sign along the way.”

Weiss smiled and donned the jersey, setting her hand in the crook of the faunus’ elbow. “Perhaps. Do you have any ideas?”

“I do.” As they started walking, she chuckled. “But I wouldn’t want to use a pen to sign something so… delicate.”

The woman hummed, pointedly looking at her mouth. “I believe I know of something else you can use.”

While outwardly Blake merely smiled a bit wider, internally she asked herself a question: just how far was she willing to go?

Before they reached the elevator, she’d decided that if she wasn’t officially dating Weiss Schnee by the time she boarded the plane tomorrow, she’d be disappointed in herself.

---

Weiss stretched luxuriously in her bed as the morning rays streamed in through the window. She was sore in places she’d forgotten existed- but the pleasant type of sore, the kind that eventually turned into an itch for more, and it took conscious effort not to reach for her scroll just then. It would probably do her well to show some restraint.

That mentality lasted all of thirty seconds before her scroll was in hand and she was admiring her new background picture, taken just before Blake put on her swimwear from the night before and left to return to her room. Nothing terribly suggestive or revealing, of course, just the faunus resting her chin on Weiss shoulder. An ordinary selfie. With her new girlfriend.

She couldn’t help the smile curling her lips.

The door opened and she looked over her shoulder, watching her sister strut into the room wearing her bikini with her usual air of complete and total confidence. Her jersey was held in one hand. Probably because she wanted to… show off. “You walked down the hallway like that?”

“Of course,” Winter replied, not even batting an eye at the words ‘Property of Yang Xiao Long’ written in marker across her chest and abdomen. “I’m pleased with the outcome.”

Then, a smirk.

“Please, don’t elaborate.”

“I won’t but I do hope you were as successful as I was.”

She glanced at her scroll as a message came through from Blake, a smile coming to her lips. “Indeed I was.”

Who knew giving in to her impulse to show off would have such wonderful results.

[imagine-the-feels]

First Quarter

imagine being Archie’s older sister and being in a relationship with FP

request:  Hey hey :3 could you write a fp jones x reader where the reader is archies older sister and that shes a waitress at pops. And jughead notices that his dad is there almost everyday or something. Maybe some fluff too 😇

word count: 1.2k

warnings: age gap (reader is at least 25 though),

As the adopted Andrews Child, you were often forgotten. You came into the picture after Archie was  three and you were almost eleven, so most of their attention was on their younger child. You didn’t blame them—you couldn’t blame them. Yes they sometimes forgot to come to your choral concerts, your soccer games, your track meets—but they were busy and constantly tired so you learned to try and be as little of a hassle as possible. They already had their own set of problems, you were new and didn’t want to add on to it, so you never spoke up.

When Fred & Mary Andrews finally got divorced, the tendency to be on the sidelines only stuck.  

It hurt, so much, but there was no denying that they loved you. You couldn’t deny that love you felt when Archie called you almost every day because you were still very much his big sister, or the mini movie nights they’d force together for the month leading up to your birthday. They were every bit yours, you just had to stick out these emotions for a little longer.  

When you turned eighteen, you moved out of your Dad’s house to move to Greendale for a fresh start. You were literally on the edge of the two towns, maintaining a job in Pops so you could have an excuse to see everyone now and then. Being on your own is what allowed you to truly blossom, where everything you did finally became for you, and you finally built family relations with your brother and father that weren't the level of toxic that made you feel lesser.

You weren’t scheduled to work today at Pop’s, even though passing the Welcome to Riverdale!’ sign gave you a conditioned response of anxiety that you might be late to work. You rolled your eyes at yourself, quickly running through your schedule in your mind to make sure you really had the day off.

"Are you almost here yet?" Archie's voice asked excitedly over the speaker in your car, causing you to chuckle.

"Arch, I have to drop a quick package at Pop’s before I do anything else, I'll be there as soon as I can! I'll probably only miss the first quarter."

Archie sighed, the distant banging of metal in the varsity locker rooms rang in the background. "I'm just really excited for you to be back, this time for a little longer than usual---it feels like it's been forever."

"Archie we facetime like everyday."

"And we haven’t actually seen each other in like two weeks. All I want is a hug from my sister."

You paused, biting your lip in thought. "I know Arch, I know. And as soon as you score that winning touchdown during the fourth quarter, you’ll get a great big one. And, possibly—you ready for this?”

“Oh yea,” he laughed.

“A 5 star, gourmet, all expenses paid Pop’s dinner!”

“Ahh, that sounds delicious.”

“I know right?” You giggled with him, pulling into a familiar trailer park. “I’ll break out my secret menu for you.”

“And if I don’t score the winning touchdown in the fourth quarter?”

“Yikes Archie,” you clicked your tongue. “I’m sorry to say you’re going to have to find another sister. I don’t accept losers in this household!”

His laugh echoes through your car as you put it into park, looking up as the man your looking for stands casually in the doorway of his trailer.  

“You’re so mean to me,” Archie complained.  

“I wouldn’t be your sister if I wasn’t.”

“You’re right, you’re so right,” Archie conceded, before his coach called for him in the back. “I’ve got to go, I love you! Get here as soon as you can!”

“I got you Archibald,” you reassured. “Bye, love you!” You hang up quickly, turning off the car before leaping out.

FP barely catches you when you bound into his arms, laughing lowly at how tightly you hug him. “Woah,” he breathes. “Someone’s excited.” He pulls back briefly only to connect your lips in a quick kiss. “We saw each other less than three days ago.”

“I know,” you shrug. “But this is the first time we’re both officially in Riverdale, as a couple!”

“You keep track of the strangest things,” he laughs.

“You love me anyway.”

“Yea, I do,” he replies softly, and a moment of silence elapses over the both of you as you fall into each other’s eyes. His gaze is soft as they fall on you, filled with a love and fondness she didn’t know she was looking for. He’s mesmerizing, just as he was the first time you officially met him at Pops. Before you could dream any longer at the man that is wholly yours, he tugs you into the trailer. “How long do we have?”

You smirk. “How long is a football quarter?”

><><><

You speed walked as fast as you could into the bleachers behind the Riverdale High Football Team, finding your way to you dad who’s sitting beside Jughead. They both smile at you, greeting you with large hugs before you settle between them. The second quarter is only halfway through, so you make both boys promise to tell Archie that you were there for all of it.  

You fix your close nonchalantly, fixing the scarf around your neck to cover the hickies that littered the skin. Jughead smirks at you, and you nudge him roughly with your elbow while he laughs.

The quarter is over quickly, and after performing for halftime, Veronica and Betty find their way over to your little trio. The conversation is amicable for most of it, before you catch a snippet of Betty & Jughead’s conversation.

“Jughead, isn’t that your dad?” Betty asks, and all of you look to the end of the bleachers where he stands against a pole.

“Yea,” he replies, suspicion laced in his voice. “I actually haven’t seen him that much lately; he’s been out and about a lot. I heard he’s at Pop’s like every day.”

“Ooh,” Veronica teases. “Do you think he’s meeting someone there?”

“I think I would know if my Dad’s fallen in love,” Jughead says.  

“I don’t know J,” your Dad interrupts. “Your dad can be a very private person—especially when it comes to his love life. And this is coming from the person who taught him everything he knows.”

As they continue, you catch the eye of FP down below. He flashes you a smirk, tucking his hands into his leather jacket pockets. You bite your lip, winking at him in greeting, before the football team goes back on the field.

His eyes tell you you’re going to meet up again...very soon.

[solalunar-eclipse]

Team Dark: A Holiday Special

Chapter One: Omega

Two | Three

Word count: about 5800 words

WARNING: this chapter contains entomophagy (eating insects)

Author's Note: I'm finally back! Sorry to make you all wait so long, but I really wanted to get this project out by December, so...here it is. I hope you all enjoy! (Also, apologies in advance for any bad formatting: Tumblr is being very uncooperative right now.)

...

It was, officially, a ‘lazy day’.

Team Dark was spending time at home, resting after the holiday frenzy of yesterday. Rouge had suddenly realized that they hadn’t decorated yet and that they all still needed to come up with present ideas for Team Sonic, so she and Shadow had spent the entire time in a sort of constant state of panic. Omega tried his best to help them, intermixed with a lot of gloating about his perfect memory and how he’d remembered to get a gift already.

He’d gotten punched halfway across the room for that one.

Now, a certain striped hedgehog was relaxing in his room, reading a book quietly. Until (of course) the peaceful silence was shattered by a loud blaring noise that sent him racing out the door and halfway down the stairs to their common area. Rouge was standing in the middle of the room, and shouted out to him, “Shadow! Come down here, I’m calling a group meeting!” Shadow winced and massaged one of his ears, his quills relaxing from their startled position as he walked over and sat down on the couch. He glowered at Rouge, who stood in front of him with the ‘team meeting airhorn’ still in hand. Despite his stare, she was still poised to blast again if Omega didn’t show up soon. Thankfully for Shadow’s hearing, Omega appeared quickly, albeit with much complaining about being dragged away from his targeting system calibrations. “Alright, Rouge, what’s all this about?” the hedgehog sighed, leaning forward and resting his arms on his knees. She smiled cautiously at the two of them. “Before I say anything, I want you guys to know that this offer is optional. If it’s too much for you, you don’t have to say yes.” Omega spun one of his hands around, making a slight whirring noise. “Please continue.” Rouge sat down on one end of the aforementioned couch, sinking into the cushions with a sigh. “Okay. Let’s see. I haven’t...ever talked to you guys about my family before, have I?” “I do not recall you initiating any such conversation.” Omega answered, at the same time as Shadow replied, “No….?” “Well. Considering everything...I kind of figured it’s about time I told you all my story.” She smiled again, but it was a little bittersweet. Shadow inched closer, caution sparking in his eyes. “Where to start...I mean, I have a mom, two sisters, a stepsister, a stepbrother, and a stepmom. And a dad too, I guess?” “You guess?” Omega asked skeptically, before being shot a fierce ‘no questions‘ look by Shadow. “It’s alright, hon.” Rouge said, putting a hand on the hedgehog’s shoulder. “I guess I should really start at the beginning.” “My dad was a cat and my mom is a bat- obviously, hah. My two officially related sisters are twins, three years younger than me. Right before they were born, though...my dad left. He took all the cash with him when he did. And, well. Left Mom with a barely-paid-for apartment and without a job. “We, uh. Heard later that he ran off with some lady from his job. Mom...didn’t take it too well.” Shadow’s eyes widened and Omega smacked a fist into one hand. “Rouge. Is your father, hypothetically, good at withstanding high-powered attacks from a hypothetical extremely destructive robot?” She snickered. “No, he’s not. But please don’t actually fight him, alright?” His hands crackling with chaos energy, Shadow hissed, “Rouge...I think I like his plan.” He bared his fangs as he spoke, looking furious. Rouge smiled gratefully at the both of them. “Thanks, guys, but he’s really not even worth your time. Let me keep going, okay?” Omega sat back, irritated at the lack of pulverizing Rouge’s father going on, and Shadow, reluctantly, allowed his chaos energy to dissipate. “Yeah, so he left, and that was a whole thing. Mom worked hard for us, but it just...wasn’t enough to make ends meet. I started my career of...relieving people of their fancy objects-” here she winked- “at the age of eleven to help out. Dropped out of school after eighth grade to start full-time thievery once I turned fourteen, and, yeah. I had to leave home, otherwise Mom and the twins would’ve been in real trouble. “I got busted after two whole years by the one and only Guardian Units of Nations- not a bad streak, if I do say so myself. Then, I started working for G.U.N. to pay my dues to society, and...you all know the rest after that. I still kept sending checks back to the family, though.” Shadow and Omega were both looking at her with unreadable expressions at this point. “I’ve stopped doing that now, actually, since Mom’s been with her girlfriend for like a year now. She’s dating this super sweet cardinal who gives her basically everything my dad never did- her name’s Camellia and she has two little kids from her last marriage. She’s been so good for Mom, honestly.

“I know it’s usually supposed to be this whole thing where the stepdaughter hates the stepmom, but that’s not for me. When I got the news, I was just like ‘Oh, so that’s why I’m pan’ - yeah, really- and now I’m cool with it. Plus, I’ve got two new little sibs, so it’s all fine.

“So...yeah. That’s my family.”

Shadow sat there in deep thought for a minute. “Your family sounds nice...I’m just sorry you had to go through all of that.” he said, when he finally spoke up.

“Yeah, they’re great- and it’s okay. I mean, if it wasn’t for all that, I never would’ve found you guys!” she said, looking much brighter now. “Now that you know about them, you wanna see some pictures?”

“Certainly.” Omega said, curious to see these people that Rouge cared for so deeply.

“Okay, so...these are my twin sisters, Midori and Neela.” she said, showing a social media post of two identical coffee-colored cats posing for a selfie. Even their fur markings were exactly the same, as well as the shade of their golden eyes. Despite the fact that they were felines, something about them looked an awful lot like Rouge. The shape of their faces, perhaps?

“And here’s Camellia and Mom.” A picture came up of a beaming, moderately curvy white bat and an equally overjoyed cardinal with their arms around each other in front of a beautiful sunset.

“This is Jade, my stepsister, she’s ten-” Rouge showed an image of a young goldfinch playing soccer, kicking the ball fiercely. “-and that’s Spark, my stepbrother.” A small cardinal with a grin as broad as his mother’s was swinging on a swing at a playground, his eyes bright with the excitement of childhood.

Shadow smiled, looking as though he were a mixture of genuine happiness and a little ever-present pain. “They all look wonderful, Rouge. I’m...honored...that you felt like you could show us this.”

“That wasn’t so bad, honestly- I’ve been wanting to figure out how to do that for a while.” the bat said. “This is going to be the hard part.”

Two pairs of eyes watched her expectantly.

She exhaled. “Every year...my family has this big, three-day Wintersweek party. And when I say big, I mean seven out of my mom’s nine siblings and their spouses and kids. Like, more than twenty guests big.”

Omega interrupted her there. “If your mother has nine siblings, why did none of them bother to help her when she needed them?”

Rouge looked at the floor, a little sad. “Four of them were in debt themselves, two live in crazy places around the world and didn’t really know, and...the other three tried to help. Mom refused to take more than she could pay back. They still helped do other stuff like watch us while Mom was working, though.”

“Understood. You may continue.” Omega replied, shifting into a slightly less confrontational pose.

“So. I always go to this party, except for those two years when I was on the run. This is going to be my third year back. And…

“I really, really, reallyreally want to introduce my family to my two best friends. You know, the ones who live with me and always have my back and mean the world to me.” she said, looking straight at Shadow and Omega. The former blushed a faint green at the praise, while the latter scoffed.

“Of course you wish to do so. Our excellence is unparalleled.”

Rouge smiled hopefully at them. “I know it’s a lot to ask of you guys, but...will you come to the party this year?”

Omega processed this for a minute. “How amenable is your family towards weapons of incredible destructive power being present in their home?”

“Well, see, about that….” Rouge muttered. “...you might have to empty your weapons cartridges before we go.”

“I am unsure if this is an acceptable outcome. I will respect your wishes to an extent, but I refuse to be without weaponry at my disposal.”

The bat thought for a moment. “...you can bring the flamethrower, but only if you put a PIN lock on it.”

“...”

“...”

Rouge stared him down. “There’s going to be kids there. Kids.”

“Accepted.” Omega said finally. His tone switched to a more triumphant note as he added, “I shall come and impress all of your relatives with my power.”

Shadow had reservations, too. “Won’t it be weird, having people who aren’t really your family there?”

“Shadow…” she said gently. “...you two are as close to me as my ‘real family’, and I want you to be there.”

Omega noted that Shadow was behaving in a manner that suggested he was ‘flustered’. He folded his arms tightly, lowered his head, and his mouth was pressed tightly into a line- an attempt to hide a smile. “...but won’t I take up too much space? An extra bed is more difficult to manage than an outlet.”

Rouge sighed sharply, becoming frustrated with his hesitance. “Mom has air mattresses up to her ears specifically for this, and she lives in Camellia’s house now, which has like ten bedrooms anyway. And you’re totally not going to be ‘a bother’ or anything, so don’t even say that. Mom basically screamed when she found out I was bringing people, and I mean that in a good way. She didn’t stop asking me questions for half an hour.”

“I…” Shadow said tentatively, close to giving in.

“If they’re ever too much for you, though, just feel free to hide in one of the back rooms. There’s plenty of places where you won’t be disturbed.”

The hedgehog sighed, but he didn’t look upset. “I suppose I can try, for you.”

“Yes!” Rouge shouted, kicking her legs before getting up and bouncing up and down. “Heck yeah! This is gonna be great!”

…

Over the next week, they discussed the party numerous times, and Rouge spent a lot of time sitting in the middle of mountains of wrapping paper, packaging presents for her family. Omega and Shadow had tried to help her, but she’d insisted that they not worry about it. “It’s my family,” she had said, waving them away. “You being there is already more than enough. I’d never ask anything else of you.”

Shadow had still made cupcakes, though. Omega helped with the icing.

On the first day of the event, they set off early, making the several hours’ drive from Central City up to Rouge’s family’s house (north of Empire City) so that they’d arrive just before lunch. Thinking of Shadow, Rouge didn’t want him in particular to get caught up in the early (and supposedly quite intense) greetings that her family usually participated in. Omega resolved to turn his force output down just a little- he didn’t want to accidentally break someone’s hand instead of merely shaking it in introduction.

Of course, this all meant they had to endure a four-hour car ride together, involving lots of fights over what music was playing, several different long-distance driving games, and multiple threats to toss one another out the window while moving at 80 mph or more.

So, generally uneventful for them.

...

When they arrived at the family’s house, the E-series robot decreased his optic zoom to 85% just to take the entire place in. It was truly an enormous building, built from what appeared to be stone but on closer inspection was...actually stone. Unexpected, yet impressive.

Omega was mildly uncertain about the heating capabilities of such a house, but at least it was structurally sound. He would have to decide on its defensibility later.

“Wow.” Shadow muttered, his eyes wide. “I know you said it had ten bedrooms, but...wow.”

“I said I wasn’t messing around with you!” Rouge laughed brightly. “This place is crazy big.”

As soon as they opened the door and the bat stepped inside, the team was greeted by a loud shout of “Rouge!” from various delighted family members.

Her immediate family rushed over first, giving her lots of hugs (while her parents relieved Omega of the numerous presents she’d had him carry). Her stepbrother jumped up and down, asking, “Did you bring a present for me? Do I get one? Do I?”

Rouge smiled at him, picking the little cardinal up and giving him a hug. “Of course you do. There’s one right over there!” she said, pointing towards the giant pile of presents.

Rouge’s mother came rushing back over at that, greeting her daughter with a tight embrace. “Oh!” she exclaimed, noticing Omega and Shadow standing by the door. “Are these your friends, Rouge? Come on, introduce us!”

The younger bat grinned. “Alright, so this is my partner-in-crime and our resident edgy goth, Shadow,” she said, gesturing towards the hedgehog. He responded with a glower at Rouge for the latter remark and a polite “Nice to meet you.” to the family.

“And this is my personal palanquin (just kidding, just kidding) and awesome destroyer of enemies, Omega.”

“Greetings, Rouge’s relatives.” Omega said, turning his volume down to a level that Rouge had termed ‘inside voice’. First impressions and all that.

After making their way through many, many more greetings- which Omega recorded to play back for name storage later- the team were finally seated at one of the large couches in the living room. Rouge, being Rouge, began to chat cheerfully with a couple of her family members, describing her latest escapades with the other two team members as well as her general social life.

Shadow and Omega didn’t speak much at first, but the latter in particular soon began to interrupt her stories to point out multiple inaccuracies (mostly Rouge underplaying how utterly awesome he was). He found that he quite enjoyed talking about their various adventures, in fact.

However, the three quickly discovered that some of Rouge’s relatives had...misunderstood her stories.

One of the many aunts- whose name Omega had not yet stored- spoke up. “Rouge, I know you said you were bringing friends, but you don’t have to be shy with us, sweetie. Shadow here seems like a very thoughtful boyfriend.”

Chaos ensued. Rouge choked on her water and Omega had to pound her on the back to help her breathe again. Meanwhile, Shadow seemed to have reflexively assumed a defensive, curled-up position, yet Omega could still make out a faint glow of green from within the black and red ball.

“No!” the bat shouted, once she’d regained her breath. “No, no, we’re only friends, really!”

Her aunt seemed unconvinced, as did several other guests.

Shadow slowly uncurled, prepared to back Rouge up- though he seemed to have temporarily forgotten how to speak in his shock. His mouth moved silently, and he seemed to be having trouble stringing together a coherent sentence.

“I am not romantically involved with Rouge in any way.” he began slowly. “I assure you, she means the world to me, but in a platonic manner. I am grateful to have a friend like her, but that is all we are to each other.”

Several other relatives decided to weigh in on this.

“He seems like a very polite friend!”

“Rouge, even if you’re not together, you had better hang on to this one.”

“He certainly likes you, and that’s what’s important.”

“It’s alright if you aren’t dating, honey!” Rouge’s mom added. “Healthy platonic relationships are very important.”

The younger bat shook her head, covering her eyes with her hand. “Guys, please.” she groaned, before looking over at Shadow.

The hybrid appeared to be surreptitiously trying to get in touch with his hedgehog heritage and burrow underneath the cushions by this point. Rouge grinned at him and wrapped an arm around his waist, pulling him back out into the open. “Come on, don’t make him embarrassed! It’s only day one, guys!” 

Shadow cringed at that. Omega, meanwhile, was most definitely not recording any of this and storing it safely in his blackmail folder. Not at all.

…

A little later on, after everyone had eaten lunch, Omega (being the strongest on the team, despite Shadow’s protests otherwise) hauled their suitcases upstairs with little trouble. Rouge had been too busy talking to come with him, and Shadow looked as though he’d buried himself in a pile of cushions and probably wouldn’t be moved without extreme force, so he’d gone up alone.

Looking around the small room, he...found it quite tolerable, honestly. Sunlight streamed in through two medium-sized windows, and there were several empty floating shelves on the walls for their things, as well as a linen closet. There were only two beds in the room, since Omega just required a…

Ah, there it was. A charging port.

The robot was actually more pleased than he expected with the amount of mock evergreen, poinsettias, and other such ornaments in the room, though. He wasn’t much one for artistic expression himself (preferring to express his thoughts via some choice language and a few well-aimed rockets), but his friends were more...appreciative of such things and would likely enjoy the decoration.

Bored with examining the room already, he put down the suitcases and began to explore the house, trying to figure out what the floor plan looked like. He walked through all of the different rooms, enjoying himself while examining all of the possible defensive vantage points and the most optimal attack areas. 

Sure, fighting was his job, but who said he couldn’t enjoy contingency planning? Mapping out attacks on his place of residence and figuring out how to best repel invaders was one of his favorite pastimes (right up there with visiting the mall with his friends).

However, once he had planned out about five different strategies, he realized that an hour had gone by and that it was probably a good idea to go check up on said friends.

After he carefully made his way back downstairs- trying to walk in a way that didn’t shake the house was difficult- he saw Rouge still chatting with some of her cousins and looking very happy. Shadow was barely even visible, curled up in a dark corner and alternating between reading and listening to the conversation. Everyone honestly seemed to be enjoying themselves.

However, there was one jarring thing about this warm, familial scene that Omega noticed. 

The little children.

They were everywhere. Climbing their parents like a jungle gym, interrupting conversations left and right, running around underfoot, and generally causing mayhem in their wake. While Omega highly appreciated their impressive ability to cause confusion and chaos, he suspected that most of the other people here did not. Multiple guests looked ready to break something, and the robot was fully aware that Rouge’s family did not share his opinions on wanton destruction.

So, he decided to do something about this.

“SMALL CHILDREN,” he shouted, gaining the attention of the entire household. “I CHALLENGE YOU TO A SNOWBALL FIGHT.” That was an acceptable (and fun) form of violence, if he remembered correctly. Rouge certainly looked interested.

The children began to bounce around in various states of excitement, their energy somehow increasing exponentially at this prospect. “Whose team will you be on, mister?” Rouge’s stepbrother asked bravely. 

“MY OWN. NONE OF YOU CAN DEFEAT ME.” Omega declared.

“Yeah, right!” an older child shouted. “Come on, guys, let’s go!”

The entire group rushed outside and began to build a snow fort for the upcoming attack. Most of the children were clearly struggling to organize, as half seemed to comprehend the need for a well-structured creation and half were just piling up snow like maniacs.

Meanwhile, Omega began to carefully form large building blocks out of the snow, building a formidable fortress (snow could be imposing, alright??). Once he was satisfied with his semicircle construction, he noticed that he still had a few minutes to wait before the children finished theirs. He spent this time making snowballs, as well as a few other...adjustments. When the children shouted out “Ready!”, he was more than prepared.

Since they were, again, Rouge’s relatives, he was very, very generous and gave them the first chance to fire. The children launched snowball after snowball, but he ducked behind his fort and only one found its mark. Once they were all out of ammunition and scrambling for more, he felt a smug sense of satisfaction.

It was time.

He loaded his arms full of snowballs…

And proceeded to launch them out of his machine gun ports at the children.

The kids scattered in all directions, shrieking with a mixture of fear and excitement. Omega, during their attack, had thought to make even more projectiles, turning what was supposed to be organized warfare into a one-sided rampage of destruction.

By now, Rouge had appeared on the deck and was currently howling with laughter, tears streaming down her face as she watched Omega launch his onslaught of snow. Shadow was standing at the doorway along with several others, a giant wicked grin spread across his face.

The E-series robot truly wished he could make that second expression right now. He turned to Rouge, watching her cackle…

...and immediately proceeded to fire a massive amount of snow at her as well. Her laughter transformed into a gasp of mock betrayal as she scooped up some of the offending substance, packing it into a weapon of her own. “Oh. It. Is. On.”, she hissed, shaking the snow off her wings.

Taking to the skies, she began a counterattack, distracting Omega with varied sizes of snowballs and forcing him to try and fire directly upwards. The children, realizing that they had a powerful ally in Rouge, began to make new projectiles themselves and threw them at him from all sides, until Omega finally found that he was struggling to handle the attack.

As he began to turn the tide again, he realized suddenly that this was entirely due to Rouge’s absence…

...and of course that was when a shadow fell over him.

Followed by a giant pile of snow.

He flailed in the icy trap as he struggled to regain his bearings. Once he had managed to clamber halfway out of the snow, he saw Rouge hovering above him. Her wings struggled to hold her in the air as she laughed again, and he noticed sulkily that she was holding a sheet.

“Cheater.” he muttered, indignant at having been trapped in such an unflattering manner.

“Cheating?! From the guy who launched snowballs like missiles? Really?” she shouted down to him good-naturedly, shaking her head. “Talk about hypocritical, Omega.”

The E-series robot still insisted on having the last laugh, though- he had to get out somehow, so he powered on all of his fans at full blast to clear away the snow. And if everyone was standing too close to avoid the resulting icy shower, well then that was their problem.

After that, though, everyone had to go inside and dry themselves off. Organics couldn’t handle being wet and cold very well, and Omega didn’t like the idea of his circuitry being shorted out. He felt a great sense of satisfaction at having established his status as the cool one on the very first day, though.

He spent a little more time with the young ones after that, playing several rounds of a popular card game called One with them and stacking up all of the plus-fours. The robot showed no mercy even in games.

Several children, evidently impressed by his prowess (or perhaps just in awe of the fact that he was a giant robot) begged him for promises that he would play more tomorrow, to which he quickly agreed. Not long after, to everyone’s disappointment, the kids’ parents came and practically dragged them to the dinner table, having shouted their names four or five times by this point.

As he walked into the dining room, Omega surveyed the area, focusing for a moment on the glow that the many candles gave off on the table. Fire was always a nice touch.

Looking further, he noticed that the wooden table alone was a formidable piece of furniture, filling the largest room in the house and forcing some chairs to squeeze up against the wall just to make space. And that wasn’t even mentioning the feast laid out on top of it. Omega ignored that for now in favor of sitting down on one side of Rouge after he saw her at the table. Looking over to her other side, he noticed Shadow surveying the food spread out on the table with what most would consider a completely blank look.

Omega, however, had experience with analyzing Shadow’s facial expressions, and noted the slight tension in his face as well as the fact that he was fidgeting with his silverware. Both he and Rouge had a good idea as to why, too- Shadow didn’t need any of this.

The hybrid had been created with incredible physical resilience, able to withstand the most arduous of conditions. This included a significant lack of food. He actually ate only about three times a week, and even then he only consumed small meals. While it was about time for him to eat today, the fact that there would be even more food over the next couple of days seemed to have produced a conundrum for him.

If he ate now, he wouldn’t need to later, which could be quite awkward, particularly when everybody else would. Omega thought through the options and decided that there were three main paths he could take: eat now and not later, not eat now but do so later, or possibly attempt to eat a little on all three days.

Rouge seemed to have realized this as well. Leaning over to Shadow, she whispered, “Whatever you want to do is fine, hon. It’s okay if you eat a lot over these few days- everyone else here will too. If you don’t want to, though, that’s cool- just make sure you have something at some point, alright?”

The robot watched as Shadow relaxed slightly at her understanding words. The change was almost imperceptible, but he now sat back in his chair instead of forward, and he’d stopped adjusting his place setting.

Once everyone was seated and they’d given a quick toast, the family began to dig in. Shadow sat back and waited for everyone else to take some food first- a wise choice. Rouge, on the other hand, entered the rather impressive food frenzy with a voracity that her team members knew all too well- she often complained that one of her few vices (aside from gems and other sparkly objects) was food.

Omega took this time to survey what he could see of the dishes, interested in finding out for himself what a proper Wintersweek meal looked like. He saw two dishes that appeared to be some sort of poultry, as well as bowls of finger food that looked like they were filled with crickets and beetles. Various platters of cooked vegetables in every color of the rainbow covered the table, some with sliced fruit available as well. Loaves of bread in multiple shapes and sizes were scattered throughout the presentation, accented by artfully placed centerpieces.

Quite honestly, it looked impressive.

Rouge had a little bit of everything on her plate, and was currently digging into a buttery baked potato like she hadn’t eaten in weeks. Omega silently put his napkin next to her plate, the (sarcastic) message clear: You need this more than I do.

Shadow, meanwhile, had taken a little fruit, one piece of meat, and two slices of bread, but seemed very hesitant to eat much more than that. He looked to be quite invested in a conversation that several of the adults were having about their own teenage experiences, often leaning in slightly when a funny story came up.

Omega mostly kept an eye on his friends, while also half listening to the children talk about the latest video game that had become popular. It seemed to contain lots of fighting combined with some impressive storytelling, and the robot made a note of the game title for his own use later.

However, as he checked on Rouge again, making sure she hadn’t choked on her food, he noticed that she had left her plate to the side in favor of talking to her family about...wait.

Omega knew this story.

This was a story where he was walking through the halls of an abandoned underground hideout for a highly sophisticated ring of criminals (an assignment for their entire team). In which said diabolical criminals had installed multiple traps designed to keep people out. And these traps. Included magnets. That specifically messed up artificial intelligence.

Omega’s memory had been severely impaired by the event, but Shadow and Rouge told him later that they had discovered him stumbling around the main hub of the base, rambling out loud about things as ridiculous as current weather patterns and- he shuddered internally- kittens. He was eternally grateful for this memory loss, though, as the two had apparently, instead of taking this seriously, dissolved into helpless laughter on the spot.

Of course, they had taken him to Tails to get fixed up. But not until after Rouge had filmed another five minutes or so of him acting absolutely loopy while their laughter, punctuated with the occasional gasp for breath, filled the background.

And she was just getting to the part where they found him now-!

The E-series robot shot out of his chair and clamped a hand over Rouge’s mouth, turning his volume low and hissing “Don’t you dare.” in her ear.

Unfortunately, this only added to everyone else’s interest, as Rouge began to cackle loudly at Omega’s evident embarrassment and her memory of the event. “Tell us! Tell us!” Camellia (Rouge’s stepmother) cried out, clapping her hands and looking for all the world like a child who had just been handed a chocolate bar. 

“Help me, Shadow!” Rouge shouted through the steel grip on her face, slurring her words with laughter. The hybrid, happy to take a break from the crowded room and equally happy to shame Omega, pried the robot off of Rouge and somehow managed to drag him out of the room as everyone now leaned in to hear her finish the story.

“So we were really worried, right? Since we hadn’t heard anything? And then we-”

Shadow shut the door on her voice and smirked at Omega, but there was a tinge of real happiness in his expression. “It’s alright, Omega. She doesn’t actually want you to feel bad, you know.”

“That’s what you say.” he scoffed. “Rouge isn’t in there telling them about the time you didn’t eat for a month on a mission and then binge-”

“Alright, alright!” Shadow groaned. “I get it, but let’s let her have fun, alright? This is her family, after all.”

“Fine.” Omega grumbled. “But I will get you back for this.”

“Sure you will.” Shadow raised an eyebrow at him.

This led to a fierce staring match/arm-wrestling battle and subsequent argument over who won, immediately followed by Omega pulling out his phone and the two watching a recently popular obstacle course show. Of course, they both agreed that they could do far better than any of the contestants.

Eventually, though, as the evening wore on, the two joined back up with Rouge to head to their room. Shadow took a hot shower while Rouge changed into her favorite pajamas- they were soft and white with little pink hearts all over (her favorite colors). 

She yawned loudly just as the hybrid walked in, already wrapped in a blanket and pulling on some plain black nightwear. He didn’t really need it, but his fifty-year stint in what was essentially a superpowered freezer had left him with a distinct dislike for the cold.

Omega had already plugged into the outlet and begun to charge, but yet…”Why don’t I get a blanket?”

“What the heck d’ you want one for?” Rouge muttered, already exhausted. 

“Well, you both have them.” he muttered sulkily, glowering at them from his corner of the room.

The bat opened up the closet in the room, looking up at the top shelf. “Shadow, c’mere. I can’t reach this thing by myself.” 

He walked over quickly, not appearing to be tired at all. Omega, as always, knew better, and saw the fatigue from the long day that he tried to hide behind his “Ultimate Lifeform” title.

Rouge jumped onto his shoulders in a practiced movement, snatching a pale purple fluffy blanket from the shelf and flinging it half-heartedly at Omega. “There’s your blanket.” she declared, before jumping straight from Shadow to her bed.

She settled into her usual sleeping position, with her feet hooked over the headboard and her face and pillow about halfway down the bed. It wasn’t a typical behavior for most, but she was a bat, after all. “‘Night, guys.” she murmured, already half asleep.

Shadow carefully lifted his blankets and slid under them, trying to keep them as neat as possible. The hedgehog shifted into a half-curled position, displaying his quills to the world and protecting his vulnerable legs and chest. “Sleep well, Rouge. Goodnight, Omega.” he said softly, still trying to stay awake.

“Good night.” the robot replied.

Omega kept an eye on his teammates, the room lit only by a patch of moonlight from the window. He listened to Rouge’s slight snoring, and watched as Shadow’s eyes slowly closed and his breathing evened out.

The robot was always cautious about shifting into his own form of ‘sleep’, but reminded himself that this was not enemy territory. This was Rouge’s family’s house, and they were all safe.

Still, he watched his friends sleep peacefully for a while longer. Then, he selected low power mode from his menu of choices and allowed his eyes to go dark.

[prinz-alexiares]

Deputy Blair R. O’Connell

I’ve had this OC since, like, 2018 but I was too lazy to assemble her design together so here she is lol

BASIC INFO

Name: Blair Rhiannon O’Connell

Nickname: Deputy/Dep, Blair, Ree (only by family)

Age: 26

Birthdate: January 19th

Gender: Female

Ethnicity/Nationality: Irish-Welsh-American

Height/Weight: 172 cm / 68 kg

Blood Type: B

Occupation: USAF Marksman (former), Deputy Sheriff of Hope County 

Hair Color: Black with red-brown undertone

Eye Color: Grey

Likes:

Winter

Guns ‘N Roses

Rain

Open nature and mountains

Spicy food

Canine animals

Warm bath

.50 cal firearms

Dislikes:

Sweets

Summer

Crowded places

Being teased/played with

Shotgun

Empty desert

Hobbies:

Outdoor related activities such as fishing, hunting, camping, and hiking

Looking at animal memes

Randomly wandering outside or sit somewhere in the forest and do nothing

Reading peculiar books

Petting all the dogs in the ‘hood

Fixing/cleaning/modifying her weapons while blasting classic rock songs on the radio

Soaking herself in a bathtub full of warm water

Personality:

Blair has a bold style and vibe, and she carries a rather thuggish demeanor. She looks and acts more masculine, although she also shows her femininity in a lot of ways as well.

She is somewhat reckless, often acts first before she thinks. She introspectively sees this as her weakness, as she repeatedly made bad decisions in the past that negatively affected people around her. But on a brighter side, she comes out as an ‘action’ person who gets things done. It also makes her seem more courageous and reliable than most people.

She can get very selfish. A lot of decisions she makes would consider her ideals stronger than anything else. But the good side is that she always wants to do the ‘right thing’ by helping others or solve problems, although the result still relies heavily on her own judgement.

She describes herself as ‘childish and mature at the same time’, hinting at her recklessness and self-centered tendencies as being ‘childish’, while her natural leader and calculating nature as the ‘mature’ side. Her service in the USAF had helped her to polish her leadership and logical thinking skills, although they sometimes are hindered by her emotions.

Five Songs in Her Playlist:

Metallica - Nothing Else Matters

Guns ‘N Roses - November Rain

Queens of The Stone Age - Make It Wit Chu

Guns ‘N Roses - Paradise City

Radiohead - High and Dry

‘GET TO KNOW THIS FELLA BETTER’ SECTION

Childhood

Blair was born in Boston, Massachusetts, to a devoted Catholic family as an only child. Her business consultant father was an immigrant from Ireland, and her teacher mother was a Welsh-American. They enrolled her into all-girls Catholic schools throughout her elementary and a half of her junior high-school years. However, that didn’t stop her from developing interest in hobbies more commonly enjoyed by boys. She enjoyed baseball, soccer, wall climbing, skateboarding, and plenty of other outdoor activities. She also made friends with boys around her neighborhood and used to walk her dogs with them as well.

During her school years, she was very competitive at school and very confident with herself. She liked presenting her work, actively asking and answering questions during lessons, and she was becoming more and more critical about her surroundings. Her teachers disliked her boldness, as it was seen as a sign of disobedience. They tried to shut her down by treating her differently than her other peers; giving her more disadvantages and having her voice ignored in the classrooms. Young Blair got discouraged and frustrated that she threw a lot of tantrums and started to become less and less compromising when she was faced with problems. She then began to show her violent tendencies as she repeatedly involved in fistfights and physical bullying. Her parents were mad at her once she was given detention from school, but upon learning the truth, they moved her to a mixed, secular private school.

However, her violent tendencies were never addressed properly thus carried until later in her life.

Before Eden’s Gate

Blair was first introduced to open nature, firearms, and hunting when she celebrated winter holiday at her grandfather’s place in Montana. He was a Vietnam War veteran, and through him she learned about the old M1903 Springfield and Winchester Model 70 for the first time. Blair had been visiting him almost every winter holiday since she was 13, learning all the stuff about guns and hunting. She was very fascinated and inspired by her grandfather that she planned to follow in his footsteps to live as a hunter.

But her metropolitan parents were against her ideas, which disappointed her. They later discussed her future and agreed upon a condition that Blair would return to formal school, taking defense studies, and/or enlisting herself in the military or police department. She did enlist to the USAF, spending about 4-5 years in service. She was in the marksman course and tasked as sniper for an Advanced Designated Marksman team in the Middle-East. She was known to be a formidable marksman with plenty of kill records. Although she didn’t experience much combat, it was enough for her to see how complex and dangerous things were, and killing people because she was told to do so wasn’t a pleasure. She also lost her teammate once; a spotter, shot by an enemy sniper.

Once she got home, she spilled the surprising news to her parents that she quit the military. She tried to seek redemption from the extreme guilt she brought home from the war. She went to Montana and stayed in her late grandfather’s cabin while thinking about what to do next. She then applied to several police and sheriff offices in Montana, wishing she’d make things up by protecting people as a police officer. Not long after, she got accepted in a sheriff office located in a remote county, telling her that they’re in dire need of someone capable of handling civil unrest situations. She wondered why, and chose to go.

PEG Turmoil

Blair tried to make peace with her past, but being involved in PEG turmoil forced her to relive her past instead. At first, seeing no way out, she decided to play along; rescuing resistance members, destroying PEG infrastructures, and becoming the pawn for the local residents’ revenge against the cult. But the more people she killed, the more destruction she created, the more frustrated she became. She started to put the Seeds’ words into her consideration. She also spoke to some of the locals who wished there would be another way to deal with the Peggies instead of going all out civil war.

She is stuck between acknowledging that the cult is probably right, that what she’s done is a severe crime and makes her no different than the cult, but she can’t leave behind the people and everything she has been fighting for.

Relationships:

Joseph Seed: The man just feels unsettling for her. Like there is something about him that makes her guts tell her how he is a trustworthy person. But her brain tells her he’s a psychopath who murders everyone to get his way with the world he resents. She hasn’t figured out whether she can trust his words or not.

John Seed: She thinks of him as a typical upper-class man with enormous wealth and power in possession who likes to exploit those who are more inferior than him. He has a superiority complex, perhaps, and Blair has heard about what happened between him and his adoptive family. She also knows his ‘obsession’ towards her, and she prefers to use it as a weapon to taunt him.

Jacob Seed: The Seed she can relate to the most, but also feels like an intense rival of hers. She has complicated feelings about him; she respects him. His values and views make sense to a certain extent, but she can’t deny that he IS a war criminal and he must be held responsible for all the horrible shit he has done. But after all the destruction she created, she comes into terms that they both are of the same kind after all. However, she won’t be intensely facing him off if not for the brainwashing trials and his hunting rituals.

Faith Seed: She feels nothing but pity towards her. She has heard what Joseph has done to her, and what happened to the previous ‘Faiths’. She treats Faith as nothing more than Joseph’s pawn, who probably has no freedom in making any decision at all.

Trivia:

Her name ‘Blair’ is of Scottish-Gaelic origin. It means ‘plain’, ‘field’, or ‘battlefield’, while her middle name ‘Rhiannon’ is of old Celtic origin which means ‘divine queen’. Her surname ‘O’Connell’ is a common Irish surname which means ‘wolf’ or ‘hound’. 

When her hair isn’t tied up, it has medium length that almost reaches her shoulders.

She equips red and grey-checkered MBP .50 with cylinder suppressor, cherry-painted silenced M60, red-painted silenced SMG-11, and a red-painted RPG. When she isn’t in her stealthy mood, she packs Jacob’s rifle and M249.

She has had a smoking habit since high school. She stopped smoking for a while during her service in USAF, but continued after she quit the military. Her favorite cigarette is Lucky Strike.

She is addicted to eyeliner.

She wears her military dog tag as a memorabilia.

Her type of man is someone who can tame and handle her ‘chaotic side’.

Unlike her family, she isn’t religious.

She believes that she is sterile, that’s why she feels like less of a woman.

I want to add some more details but shit isn’t this a freaking long post. I’ll just update them later. Procrastination is the key to better original character design.

[nauseateddrive]

SUSPENDED by Alan Swyer

About to head off to conduct an interview, Pete Tarcher winced when a call came from his soon-to-be ex-. “How busy are you?” Suzanne asked before Tarcher even had a chance to say hello.

“Very. I've got a crew meeting me in Burbank.”

“Tell 'em you need to reschedule.”

“Because?”

“Jeremy's about to be suspended from school.”

“Let me call you from the car.”

Driving west toward Santa Monica, Tarcher listened uncomfortably via Bluetooth while Suzanne briefed him about their son's predicament. Then he asked an even more uncomfortable question. “Sure he wants me involved?”

“He thinks the world of you.”

“Sure has a funny way of showing it.”

“Kids take sides when their parents are going through divorce. Plus –”

“Yeah?”

“How'd you get on with your Dad when you were that age?”

“How well do he and I get on today?”

“I rest my case,” replied Suzanne.

After hanging up, Tarcher found himself contemplating the ways in which he and his son were different yet had much in common. Whereas Tarcher, proud of his New Jersey roots, was willfully outspoken and, when necessary, eager to get in someone's face, Jeremy was very much SoCal: soft-spoken with a winning kind of shyness, except when playing baseball, where he was a smiling assassin.

It was athletics that had long served as the primary bond between father and son, with Tarcher spending countless hours mentoring Jeremy in sport after sport. Though soccer, basketball, and football were part of his early years, it was always baseball that took precedence. Initially that meant Tarcher playing catch before school, pitching Wiffle balls to Jeremy in the backyard, and hitting ground balls to him at different parks. Once Jeremy turned nine, frequent trips to a local batting cage known as Slamo were added.

It was at Slamo where Jeremy, whose classmates, post-Little League, embraced computer games rather than team sports, formed friendships with kids who shared his zeal. That in turn opened the door to travel teams. The ensuing tournaments, first across Southern California, then farther away as well, often requited overnight stays, intensifying the ties between father and son.

Upon entering high school, Jeremy promptly had an experience that mirrored one from Tarcher's youth. While getting ready for fall baseball practice on a Tuesday afternoon, Jeremy was confronted by two vatos who were in the process of shaking him down when into the locker room stepped Junior Hernandez, co-captain of the team by day and reputed gang member.

“What the fuck you doin'?” screamed Junior when he saw what was happening.

“Be cool,” replied one of the toughs. “The motherfucker's white.”

“White or not, he's my teammate!” snarled Junior, ready to do some serious ass-kicking.

That, in a different sport was a reenactment of what happened to Tarcher, whose savior was Victor Washington, captain of the basketball team and heavyweight Golden Gloves boxing champ of New Jersey.

In another way as well, Jeremy followed in his father's path. To gain acceptance from his teammates and other in-groups, he assumed a double-life: a wild and crazy jock who, without calling much attention, happened to be in the school's Honors Program.

One person not fooled by Jeremy's protective coloration was his freshman English teacher, Ms. Vaughn, who was also the adviser to the school paper. Recognizing a talent that he himself might have otherwise not acknowledge, when Jeremy misbehaved in class one day, she issued an ultimatum: serve a week's detention, which would mean missing fall practice, or join the newspaper staff. Starting as second-string sportswriter, Jeremy rose to sports editor by his junior year, which yielded a peculiar series of omissions. Since reporters were not allowed to mention themselves in their stories, as Jeremy progressed from the youngest member of the varsity to its star, the sports pages carried more and more tales of game-winning hits, and shutouts thrown, with no mention of the player responsible for the heroics.

Little surprise that by his senior year, Jeremy requested, then demanded, a transition from sports to features, which inevitably led to the call from Suzanne that had Tarcher racing across town. 

Pulling into a visitor's spot in the high school parking lot, Tarcher walked purposefully toward the administration building. He nodded to a security guard he knew from attending countless baseball games, then to a couple of students he recognized, before stepping into the principal's outer office. There he immediately received a frown from his son, who was seated unhappily on a wooden bench.

“You don't have to be here,” Jeremy grumbled.

“I don't do anything because I have to,” answered Tarcher. “I'm here because I want to be. And for the record, it was your Mom who called me.”

Without another word, Tarcher approached the reception desk. “Pete Tarcher for Anne Marceau,” he announced to the woman there.

“She's expecting you?”

“You bet.”

The receptionist picked up the phone and spoke softly for a moment, then faced Tarcher and pointed. “She's –”

“I know,” said Tarcher. As he headed toward the appropriate door, out stepped a well- dressed black woman who smiled.

“I just saw the film you made about the criminal justice system in San Diego,” Anne Marceau stated with a smile.

“If you're trying to butter me up,” replied Tarcher, “this is not the time.”

“Come in,” said the principal, ushering Tarcher into her office, then closing the door and motioning for him to take a seat. “How much about this situation do you know?”

“Let's assume I know nothing, so you can start at the beginning.”

Anne Marceau took a deep breath. “You're aware of your son's article?”

“Like I said, assume I know nothing.”

“Jeremy wrote an extended piece about a day in the life of a tagger here at school.”

“Was it informative? Well-written?”

“Not the point,” insisted Ms Marceau. “Aside from the fact that tagging is gang-related –”

“Not always –”

“Largely. This is something I know a lot about.”

“And I just fell off the turnip truck?” countered Tarcher. “Which one of us created the LA County Teen Court system?”

“Then you know what a scourge graffiti is.”

“I also know that street art is the most exciting form of artistic expression today.”

Anne Marceau took a deep breath. “You're not being sympathetic.”

“While you threaten to suspend my son? What exactly do you want?”

Anne Marceau stood and paced for a moment before again addressing Tarcher. “For Jeremy to divulge the name of the tagger who's anonymous in his article.”

“And if not, he's suspended?”

Anne Marceau nodded.

“So you're telling me that Jeremy will wind up with a black mark that could influence not merely the colleges that are recruiting him, but also the pro scouts who have been coming to see him play.”

“There are consequences in this world.”

“Want to talk about consequences?” Tarcher asked, rising to his feet. “Ever heard the word retribution?”

“I-I'm not sure I follow.”

“Didn't you say just a little while ago that tagging was gang-related?”

“What's that got to do with anything?”

“Let's suppose the guy Jeremy followed is a gang member. Think he's going to shrug if outed? Take it in stride? Turn the other cheek? You're talking about putting my son in harm's way!”

“No need to raise your voice,” said Ms Marceau warily.

“Oh, yeah? Tell me what point you're trying to make.”

“That there's a lesson to be learned.”

“And that lesson is that it's okay to be a rat?”

Anne Marceau cringed. “That's not the way I see it.”

“I don't care if you see it as red, green, purple, or blue. That's the message you're sending. So please listen to me carefully. There's no way in the world you're going to force my son to become a rat. Are we clear? I mean 100 percent clear?”

Anne Marceau took a moment to gather herself. “Okay,” she then said. “I'll consider your point. Are we done?”

“No such luck. How about something called freedom of the press? That doesn't figure into this?”

“I-I think you're making more of this than necessary.”

“Am I?” asked Tarcher. “How do you think the LA Times will respond if they hear about this? Or the local news stations? Or maybe it could even go national.”

“Are you threatening me?”

“I don't threaten. I take action. As you pointed out, I make documentaries. Know what? That gives me far better and far different access than if I were, say, an orthodontist, a car mechanic, or a lifeguard.”

“You're making me very uncomfortable.”

“Well guess what,” said Tarcher. “I'm just getting started. Here's the really awkward news. Much of what I do is muckraking. Get my drift?”

“I-I'm not sure.”

“Then let me explain. It might be really interesting to make a documentary about a school that prides itself on teaching kids about their rights, then punishes them when they use 'em.”

“Mr. Tarcher –”

“I'm not finished yet. Here's what's going to happen. If my son is suspended, the first thing I'm going to do is reward him with a trip. Maybe Catalina while he's missing school. Or even better, Hawaii. Understood?”

“Pete –”

“Then I'm going to use every resource at my disposal to make the world aware of what transpired, as well as who's behind it.”

“Please –”

“Next, I'm going to explore what other students have had their freedom of expression abridged. Why? Because the more I think about it, the more I can see a documentary like this appealing to Netflix, or HBO, or maybe PBS.”

Anne Marceau sighed. “What exactly do you want?”

“You're an intelligent women. What exactly do you think I want?”

Still seated on the wooden bench in the outer office, Jeremy looked up as his father emerged from Anne Marceau's office. “So?” he asked.

Tarcher eyed his son for a moment, then spoke. “Let's just say that Koufax is still the greatest lefty ever, Greg Maddox the best righty, and Tony Oliva the best natural hitter.”

“That's all?”

“And the sun will come up tomorrow morning.”

With that, Tarcher headed toward the door, only to have his son follow.

“Wait,” said Jeremy. “I-I don't know what to say.”

“Then maybe it's best to say nothing.”

Jeremy took a moment to reflect before speaking. “Thanks,” he then offered.

“For?”

“Coming. And helping. And being my dad.”

“I'm here when you need me.”

“I know,” stated Jeremy. “But that doesn't mean I'm not still upset at you.”

Tarcher studied his son for a moment, then smiled. “Likewise.”

Back on the freeway, Tarcher couldn't help by think about the contrast between his professional and personal experiences. Because he made documentaries – about the criminal justice system, Eastern spirituality in the Western world, breakthroughs in the treatment of diabetes, and even boxing – most people assumed that he was showing the world as it is. Yet Tarcher knew full well that with his films he could exercise significant control thanks to the people he chose to interview, the questions he asked them, and above all the choices he made during the editing process by sequencing and selecting the sound bytes used.

In real life, in contrast, control ranged from minimal to none.

That made real life – and especially his life – infinitely harder.

[hqkennedy-blog]

*  breathes  ..  i  wish  me  and  introductions  could  be  the  best  of  friends  but  ,  it  seems  like  they  hate  my  guts  and  in  return  i  hate  theirs  asdfj  .  hi  hello  you  pretty  people  ,  im  gi  and  well  ??  i’ve  had  my  eye  on  this  group  for  a  minute  ..  so  my  excitement  level  ?  through  the  roof  .   kennedy  is  a  revamped  ?   ish  ??  muse  who  i  cannot  wait  to  dig  deeper  into  and  develop  .  on  that  note  ?  if  you  want  to  know  a  little  more  about  her  ,  just  keep  on  swimming  ,,,  i  mean  reading  .  and  afterwards  i  demand  you  love  her  and  plot  with  me  ( pretty  please  )  

ʻ   /   let  me  introduce  you  to  a  prized  member  of  our   co-ed  dance  team   ,   kennedy   leavitt .  this   cis  female  scorpio   has  been  a  student  at  our  institution for   six  years  and  is  currently  a  twenty  year  old   sophomore .   through  the  halls ,   she  has  always  reminded  me  of   madison  beer   ,   but  there  is  always  more  than  meets  the  eye ,   like  the  fact  that  she  covered  for  her  best  friend  by  announcing  to  the  cops  that  the  drugs  they  found  in  their  car  did  not  belong  to  them  but  to  her  instead            knowing  her  father  would  be  able  to  make  any  and  all  consequences  disappear  which  he  did  but  followed  by  him  forbidding  her  from  seeing  them  anymore  .  coral  cape  has  made  their  future  just  as  bright  as  their  smile ,   i  assure  you .  ʼ    

   *   p  r  o  s  o  p  o  g  r  a  p  h  y  

trigger  warning  !!!  mention  of  cancer  !!  

stranded  at  the  age  of   six  ,  a  stuffed  elephant  in  hand  and  confusion  lingering  on  skin  .  small  glimpses  of  a  angelic  features  to  ease  the  never  ending  tears  that  swam  in  honeyed  hues  .  too  young  to  understand  the  concept  that  she  had  not  been  stranded  due  to  lack  of  love  nor  a  lack  of  want  but  because  of  the  inability  to  care  for  the  small  child  .  a  clock  that  was  running  out  ,  and  a  vengeful  cancer  that  did  not  care  for  the  butterfly  kisses  or  midnight  snacks  as  they  watched  the  stars  .  a  child  needing  their  mother  meant  nothing  to  such  a  disease  .  

was  put  ,  or  more  so  forced  ,  in  the  care  of  her  father  .  the  man  who  looked  down  at  her  with  guilt  dancing  in  his  hues  and  cold  features  that  made  her  want  to  flinch  .  the  reality  was  ,  olly  leavitt  originally  wanted  nothing  to  do  with  the  life  he  helped  create  .  fell  into  the  cliche  category  of  the  rich  man  sleeping  with  his  twenty  something  assistant            getting  her  pregnant  only  to  try  to  pay  her  to  get  rid  out  of  the  fetus  and  when  that  failed  ?  he  paid  her  to  never  spill  that  it  was  his  .   and   louise  did  ,   she  raised  the  ebullient  baby  for  six  years  until  she  realized  six  years  was  all  she  would  be  able  to  spend  with  her  .  and  then  she  fell  at  the  feet  of   a  selfish  man  she  once  loved  and  begged  him  to  take  their  baby  under  his  care  ,  to  give  her  everything  she  could  not  do  . 

a  public  figure  ,  drenched  in  sovereignty  and  affluence  .   was  in  no  position  to  deny  a  child  of  his  ,  especially  when  that  child  had  a  dead  mother  .  used  it  and  kenny  in  his  advantage  ,  concealing  his  own  guilt  and  projecting  disgust  .  magazine  covers  and  interviews  about  the  tragic  sob  story  ,   kissed  her  cheek  in  front  of  the  cameras  and  spoke  with  such  empathy  when  ears  were  tuned  in  ...  but  in  private  ?  created  distance  and  threw  money  at  her  as  though  there  was  a  number  he  could  hit  to  fill  the  void  she  had  .    

has  ‘  it  all  ‘  ,  so  outsiders  say  .  bat  their  eyes  and  make  comments  about  how  she’s  destined  to  do  great  things  .  lives  in  that  beautiful  and  just  so  expensive  house  ,   and  she  drives  the  2020  lamborghini  ,   and  have  you  seen  her  feed  ?  captivating  smiles  as  she  poses  with  her  best  friends  ,  and  i  heard  she  just  took  a  family  vacation  to   monaco   .    got  that  dress  made  personally  for  her  by  versace  ,  and  doesn’t  she  got  to  that  prestigious  school  ?   the  privilege  of  being  privilege  ,   she  should  shut  up  and  just  be  happy  she  is  where  she  is  .   broken  hearts  heal  ...  and  if  it  doesn’t  ?  eventually  that  cold  feeling  becomes  a  friend  .  

*  r  u  m  i  n  a  t  i  o  n  

laughter  falls  from  her  mouth  like  its  her  own  language  .  ebullience  ,  the  chatter  bug  that  has  the  ability  to   ramble  until  she’s  threatened  (  by  an  older  brother  of  course  )  .  affectionate  ,  has  digits  that  are  constantly  reaching  for  another  hand  to  hold  .  a  habit  of  letting  fingertips  dance  across  bare  skin  ,  or  a  head  that  constantly  needs  a  shoulder  to  lean  on  .  warmth  ,  makes  her  feel  not  so  lonely  .   is  in  her  head  too  much  ,  the  type  of  girl  that  stares  at  the  night  sky  and  wonders  why  the  stars  make  her  feel  so  small  .   inherited  her  fathers  impulsive  ways  and  her  mother’s  trait  to  love  even  when  it  hurts  .  triggers  that  silence  in  her  that  desperately  holds  on  to  people  to  make  her  feel  something  ,  and  when  that’s  not  enough  her  careless  and  adrenaline  seeking  nature  kicks  in  to  cause  chaos              make  her  feel  alive  .   fears  people  leaving  her  just  like  she  see’s  her  father  in  every  flaw  she  has  .  toxic  in  the  way  she  has  the  urge  to  pull  back  every  time  she  gets  too  close  .  uses  gregariousness  to  hide  her  greatest  heart  ache  of  feeling  disposable  .  selfish  in  wanting  to  leave  a  mark  on  everyone  .  dramatic  like  she  should  of  dropped  out  of  college  and  ran  to  broadway  instead  .   loyal  like  she’s  trying  to  make  up  for  every  betrayal  you  have  ever  had  ..  emotional  enough  to  crawl  into  your  lap  (  intoxicated  )  and  cry  about  all  of  her  worries  .  silly  to  the  point  you  can’t  help  but  laugh  before  letting  ,  ‘  what’s  wrong  with  you  ‘  fall  from  your  lips  .   so  captivating  you  want  to  drown  in  her  no  matter  the  consequences  that  follow  .

*  h  e  a  d  c  a  n  o  n  s  -  i  s  h  

has  a  obsession  with  nails  ,  long  acrylic’s  so  pretty  you  could  cry  .  

always  has  her  toes  painted  ,  her  go  to  color  being  white              swears  it  makes  her  feel  more  elegant  . 

did  cheer leading  and  only  settled  on  dance  because  it  felt  most  familiar  to  her  though  she  did  play  soccer  for  three  years  . 

could  eat  waffle  fries  for  the  rest  of  her  life  and  never  complain  .  

has  three  cars  ,  and  a  bit  of  a  obsession  with  them  in  general  .  

eats  pineapple  like  it’s  her  life  support  . 

is  musically  talented  ,  not  just  vocally  but  plays  the  piano  too  .  her  mother  taught  her  . 

has  three  half  siblings  ,  and  she  would  take  a  bullet  for  any  of  them . 

is  close  to  her  step  mom  ,  and  without  her ?  would  of  tried  to  get  removed  from  her  fathers  custody  the  minute  she  was  old  enough  to  do  so  .

has  a  aunt  on  her  mother  side  that  lives  close  by  ,  she  often  spends  time  at  her  place  ..  

*  w  a  n  t  e  d    c  o  n  n  e  c  t  i  o  n  s 

ex  best  friend  ,  the  person  who  her  secret  is  related  to  .  i  assumed  she  would  have  just  cut  them  off  instead  of  telling  them  what’s  really  going  on  ,  but  of  course  we  can  work  that  all  out  .

current  best  friend  ,  the  cristina  to  her  meredith  .  one  of  the  few  who  really  knows  kenny  .  platonic  soulmates  . 

partner  in  crime  ,  they  enable  one  another  ..  there’s  no  way  around  it  but  despite  their  bad  habits  they  have  a  solid  friendship  .  if  one  of  them  needed  bail  money  the  other  would  be  there  (  sometimes  right  beside  them  )

the  friend  group  ,  who  doesn’t  love  a  little  squad  goal  moment  .  they’re  just  cute  and  close  friends  who  are  always  with  each  other . 

childhood  /  family  friend  .

tutor(s)  . 

first  love  . 

on  and  off  friendship  .

toxic  relationship  . 

teammates  . 

friends  with  benefits  (  who  sweaaaar  they  dont  have  feelings  for  each  other  )

ex  friends  with  benefits  . 

close  friends  .

friends  who  are  drifting  apart  .

will  they  wont  they .

unlikely  friends  .

confidant  . 

people  who  she  doesnt  like  and  people  who  dont  like  her .

anything  forbidden  (  friendship  or  relationship  )

honestly  ??  anything  and  everything  please  . 

[eldritchsurveys]

667.

1. If you found a baby turtle on the side of the road, would you pick it up and keep it? >> If I found a baby of any species on the side of the road, I’m not going to pick it up and keep it, I’m going to call the appropriate authorities and let them handle it. The fuck am I doing with a baby anything? 2. Did you and your mum ever have a big fight that caused you to move out? >> --- 3. Has the last person you kissed ever been to your house? >> --- 4. Have you had a good day today or was yesterday better? >> It was all right. At least the Sun was out a bit, and I managed to go out for once. Mostly I’m glad to be back in my bed now, lol. 5. Do you have any plans for the upcoming weekend? >> No.

6. How about you, do you have a bf/gf? >> Hm. 7. Could you date someone very attractive, but who thought they were better than everyone else? >> I don’t date, period, but I also wouldn’t hang out with someone who had a superiority complex. 8. So do you have a best friend? >> No. 9. What would you do if your best friend kissed the last person you kissed? >> --- 10. Do you dislike anyone? >> Not really. There are people I don’t really want to be around, of course, but I can’t think of anyone specific that I’m like “fuck that guy in particular” about except for people that have unapologetically hurt me (in which case it’s less “I dislike you” and more “I don’t even want to acknowledge your existence”). 11. Did you message your best friend today? >> --- 12. Do you think you will be in a relationship two months from now? >> I don’t see why not. 13. Do you always feel like you’re making mistakes? >> Yeah, because I have Trauma Brain. But I also know that I don’t make any more mistakes than the average person and most of my mistakes are easily fixed. 14. How do you feel about your hair right now? >> I’m going to need to buzz it again soon. 15. Does anybody have a tattoo with your name on it? >> Maybe someone has a tattoo of my name, because my name doesn’t just belong to me. But no one has a tattoo of my name that is actually about me. 16. Who did you last see shirtless? >> A couple of characters on Carnivale (before one of them got hanged with the word “HARLOT” carved into her forehead, of course. this is Carnivale after all). 17. How would you feel if you got the person you liked? >> --- 18. Do you think you can last in a relationship for six months without cheating? >> *sigh* 19. Do you like to make the first move? >> The first move to what? 20. Do you think you will ever be married? >> I am married. 21. Have you ever tried your hardest and then gotten disappointed in the end? >> Sure. 22. Is it possible to be single and happy? >> Duh? 23. Was the first person you talked to today male or female? >> The first person I spoke to was the bartender at Gardella’s, who is female. 24. Do you remember who you liked on New Year’s? >> --- 25. Are you a morning person or a night person? I’m barely a person. <-- mood 26. Could you go the rest of your life without drinking alcohol? >> Whether I “can” or not is irrelevant because I don’t fucking want to. 27. Have you ever felt like you weren’t good enough? >> Sure. 28. Is there anyone who likes you? >> --- 29. If the last person you kissed saw you kissing someone else, would they be mad? >> --- 30. Do you understand football? >> I understand American football. I don’t know anything about soccer football except the obvious bits. 31. What’s the first thing you heard this morning? >> I don’t know. 32. Who last called you beautiful? >> I don’t know. 33. Did you talk to someone until you fell asleep last night? >> No. 34. How many kids do you want when you get older? >> --- 35. Are you the type of person who has a new boyfriend/girlfriend every week? >> Of course not. 36. Ever been called a jerk/bitch? >> Yep. 37. Do you have feelings for anyone? >> Bold of you to assume I have feelings-- 38. If you fell pregnant to the last person you kissed, what would you think? >> Falling while pregnant is dangerous, oof-- 39. What’s your full name? >> *eldritch screeching* 40. Are you young or old? >> Depends on your perspective -- to a child I’m old, to a middle-aged person I’m young, etc. 41. What’s the gender? >> Oh, the gender outside is frightful... 42. How’s your heart been lately? >> You know. Beating and such. 43. Why aren’t you in bed? >> I am, though. 44. Did you do laundry today? >> No. 45. What kind of computer do you have? >> I have an MSI Leopard Pro and a Lenovo Ideapad. 46. Are there always other fish in the sea? >> Not if you overfish. 47. What can your tongue do? >> You know. Lick stuff. Form phonemes. Get chemical burns when I eat too many sour candies in a row. 48. What do you think your mum does when she goes out? >> --- 49. Do chickens have feelings? >> I don’t know anything about chicken neurology/psychology. 50. Do you think the body is the most beautiful thing that was ever made? >> No. 51. So how are you feeling today? >> Neutral. 52. Where is your sister right now? >> --- 53. Name five things you did today? >> Took a bus, drank at a bar, briefly logged into ESO, watched an episode of Carnivale, ate mac n’ cheese with bacon. 54. What kind of phone do you have? >> Moto g6. 55. What are you listening to? >> Nothing. 56. What do you smell like? >> A bit like my roll-on oil and a bit like my whipped shea butter. Mostly just like... clean skin or whatever. 57. What colour are your eyes? >> Dark brown. 58. Have you ever done a Chinese fire drill? >> No. 59. Do you know someone named Betsy? >> No. 60. What colour is your mum’s hair? >> --- 61. Do you have a dog? Breed? Name? >> No. 62. Do you remember singing any songs as a kid? >> I mean, yeah? 63. Are you married? >> Yes. 64. When was the last time you talked to one of your siblings? >> --- 65. Do you play an instrument? >> No. 66. Do you like fire? >> Sure, fire is nice. In moderation. 67. Are you allergic to anything? >> No. 68. Have you ever been to a spa? >> I’ve been to a nail spa because Sparrow works at one. I’ve also been to the Aveda spa that she did her training in years ago. 69. Do you miss someone? >> No. 70. Views on premarital sex? >> I have no views on it. I really can’t fathom having an opinion on whomst other people fuck and when. 71. What is a noise that you cannot stand? >> Face sounds. Any of them. Eating, breathing, sniffling, lip-licking, eugh. Stay away. (Sometimes I can hear myself blinking and I want to rip my eyelids off. It’s bad.) 72. Do you know how to do a cartwheel? >> Yeah. 73. What is the most you are willing to spend on a pair of sunglasses? >> Not much. 74. Does your mum vacuum early in the morning while you’re asleep? >> --- 75. Do you shower naked? >> Do I look like Tobias Funke to you? 76. Does wearing glasses really make people look smart? >> That’s not my interpretation. People with glasses just look like people with glasses. 77. Are you ADD or ADHD? >> No. 78. Do your band-aids have cartoons on them? >> I FUCKING WISH. I was so mad when I needed band-aids for my feet and none of the ones in the size I needed came in cartoon print. The only ones with fun designs were little baby band-aids. I think as an adult I should be able to buy whatever the fuck kind of band-aids I want, including ones with Stitch on them. Fuck you. 79. Have you ever kissed someone you shouldn’t have? >> Probably. 80. In one word, how would you define yourself? >> I wouldn’t. 81. Tell me about a dream you had recently? >> I can’t, I can never remember them anymore. I get vague wispy impressions upon waking, and then even those disappear after a few minutes. I feel disconnected from dream!Mordred and I’m so curious at what it’s been up to. 82. Who’s the funniest drunk person you know? >> --- 83. How did you feel when you woke up? >> Fine, I guess. 84. What was the first thing you thought of when you woke up this morning? >> I don’t know, probably something related to Sparrow knocking around as she got ready for work, because that’s my first sensory memory upon awakening. 85. Name something great that happened on Friday? >> It’s Thursday, ask me on Saturday. 86. When was the last time you saw your father? >> --- 87. Do you wish someone would call or text you right now? >> No. 88. Have you ever been kissed by a person whose name starts with J? >> Yeah. 89. Do you crack your knuckles? >> Yeah. 90. What were you doing twenty minutes ago? >> Probably still this survey, since it’s so long. 91. You’re thinking about someone, aren’t you? >> No. 92. Have you held hands with anyone in the past twenty-four hours? >> No. 93. What would you do if your partner still kept pictures of their ex? >> Nothing? That doesn’t affect me. 94. What if your partner went through your cellphone? >> I wouldn’t be with someone that went through my belongings without my express permission. 95. What if your partner was flirting with another girl/boy? >> I’d be glad for her. I hope she gets whatever she’s looking for from that interaction. 96. Ever liked someone you thought you didn’t stand a chance with? >> --- 97. You want someone/something? >> Not really. 98. Is there really a difference between Coke and Pepsi? >> Yeah, which is why many people have a preference. 99. Is there any emotion you’re trying to avoid right now? >> No. 100. Are there any mistakes with your recent ex you wish you could have changed? >> I’m pretty sure the entire situation in itself was a mistake, and it was changed, by us ending up having no contact with each other. 101. Has anyone ever been with you while you were throwing up? >> I mean, sure. 102. Background on your computer? >> Right now it’s a wallpaper with a scene from the movie Interstellar. (My desktop wallpaper is on a shuffle timer.) 103. Have you cried recently? >> Like, within the last week, probably. 104. Who has hurt you the most? >> I don’t know. 105. Are you happy with where you are relationship-wise now? >> Sure. 106. What language do you want to learn? >> --- 107. Your ex’s car breaks down and they ask you for a lift. Your response? >> I mean, I don’t drive, dude. Also, we live in wildly different parts of the country. This is just so many layers of implausible. 108. Would you hit a member of the opposite sex? >> ---

[amnachil]

To the Perfection Chapter 1 Part 2

I’m very stupid :o I totally forgot to post the next part !! I’m sorry :( I hope you’ll like it anyway

Thomas Monday January 7

The last week of the holiday went and ended like a blur. Monday came. The end of the holidays. Thomas wasn't particulary sad about it. After all, he mostly stayed at home where he played video games. Of course, he had a very organized schedule for his training too. But well, he didn't want to be back at school either. He hadn't any difficulties and he had already studied more than enough. It was more a social problem. It would be false to say he didn't have friends, only they weren't real friends. They do like me. Because I'm smart, good-looking and Raphaël's brother. Nonetheless, he wasn't sure a single one of them knew his favorite game or his favorite movie. In the end, they liked his reputation more than anything else.

"Hi Thomas." greeted Ilhan. "You look good today."

"Thanks." smiled the ginger lad.

You don't even ask me how I am doing anymore, uh ? He had met Ilhan during last year, when this one moved in town from the south. At first, the newcomer was acting more friendly, more kind with Thomas. Now I guess he thinks someone like me can only be fine. They all think that way.

"I saw your brother on TV last week." continued his classmate, far away his thoughts. "He's so awesome. You're so lucky to be related."

Really ? Thomas liked his big brother, yes, but it was sometimes hard to live in his shadow. He had always tried to be nicer, kinder, and now he thought about it, it probably explained his whole personality. Anyway, Raphaël was still far better in everything. Even in love...

"Hey guys." intervened Cody.

Thomas barely looked at him. He joined his class, letting his mind ramble.

At noon, the young lad escorted some of his friends to the local Mcdo. According to them, it was to celebrate the end of the holidays. Most of them were soccer players, just like him. They were hanging together for years, but none of them knew how much he hated burgers. They just don't care at all. Once in the restaurant, Thomas quickly found a table and took a sit. He looked around, bored. The flavor made him sick. A new year eh... It started like the last. Well, except for Dan who was moving in. Only the idea of this made him shiver with pleasure. The two of us, alone at home... Around him, his friends were coming with their order, but he ignored their waffles. He looked foward to be wednesday, when his mother would leave. (Of course he was sad about her departure, but better watch the good side of it, right ?).

"Thomy, what do you think ?"

The ginger turned towards his friends, surprised to hear his name. They were all waiting for an answer to the question he didn't listen.

"Cody and Ilhan are convinced the little Ulrich will be the next captain of the team once we graduate." resumed his third fellow, Joël. "I say otherwise, he's too cocky, don't you think ?"

"Man, you're hella cocky and you're the supporting striker." retorted Ilhan.

The other smirked. He was tall (around 184 cm or 6'1") and definitely ripped. Joël was Thomas's partner for work out, so this explained that. Well, it's true he's arrogant.

"Still, little Ulrich is just... unfit for the role." he stated.

A waiter went to refill Cody's glass with coke. Thomas recognized an old friend of Raphaël, Sam. Back in highschool, he was an awful jock, a bit like Joël. But with my brother's control, he became what he truly wanted to be. A kinda fat young adult. At least, his personnality had softened along his body. The young teenager greeted him with a nod, and then focused bad on his friend's conversation. They were still arguing about this nonsense.

"Guys, it doesn't matter right now." he smiled. "We have to focus on our games until graduation, okay ?"

They all agreed. What a bunch of boot-lickers.

This evening, when Thomas arrived at home, his mother was waiting for him. She wanted to talk. The ginger smiled cheerfully and sat on the couch. Another unecessary discussion... He loved her, but as the others, she didn't know him very well. She always said he was "as perfect as Raphaël." Why people couldn't see past their resemblance ?

"I'm leaving in two days now..." she started. "I wanted to be sure you're okay with that ? I know this isn't what we planned, but your father and I think you're very capable..."

He could guess the rest. Like my brother, right ?

"...Like your brother. Anyway, tell me what do you think ?"

You won't like what I think. Hey mom, I'm totally gay and you will literally let me alone with my crush for almost five years. I hate your new shoes, by the way.

"Everything gonna be fine." he assured kindly. "I already know how to survive on my own, and Dan will be there with me. I know you miss dad, and I know you two want to be together as fast as possible."

His mother sighed, reassured. She was so predictable. Raphaël and him were free to do whatever they wanted for years now, since they knew how to manipulate her.

"I'll cook diner." he decided.

After all, he couldn't wait to see Dan eating his food.

Dan Wednesday January 9

"Looks like we got everything. I'm sure you'll feel like home quickly."

Dan smiled to Raphaël's mother. He had always be welcome in their house, it wouldn't be much of a change to move in. He looked at his "new" environment. His boyfriend had a wide bedroom, with a lot of full bookcases. Some old clothes were lying around. A portrait of them during Raphaël's departure party caught his attention. We're together for one year and more than seven months now. As long as he remembered, he had always been friend with Raphaël. When he had done his coming out, the soccer's genius had asked for a date. I was so surprised, back then. I would have never guessed he was on the same side.

"I know this is a selfish request." said suddenly Mrs. Muller. "But I really hope you'll watch over Thomas. He's so grown-up, it worries me sometimes. I mean, he's completely capable but... He's not even 17 yet."

"It's normal to be stressed but I'll be there all the time. I'm not going anywhere."

She nodded. It was easy to reassure her apparently.

"I hope he will relax a little, he looks so tensed..." she whispered. "Thomas is always taking things too seriously. He should learn some tips from Raphaël."

Dan made a face, a bit skeptical. Raphaël's definition of fun is very personal, to my humble opinion. Make the man genuinely smile was very hard, not to mention laugh.

"They must be waiting for us." Mrs. Muller stated. "Let's go."

All the family went to the bus station. She was going to New York, and then she would take a plane to England. A long trip, but she seemed almost glad to do it.

"My boys. You're both amazing, you know that ?" she said as a goodbye. "I love you. I'm really proud of you."

Thomas nodded silently. Raphaël did nothing but stare at her. I can only imagine how bizarre it must have been to educate these two...

"Raphaël, I'm sure you'll shine as the best center foward of our country." she smiled. "Also, I know you're still hesitating, but you should start this career in modelling. You're so handsome."

He didn't answer at all. Dan knew he wasn't approving this. He saw the little tautness of his jaw, the almost invisible twicthing of his fingers. And his eyes. They were so emotionless. He's too polite to say anything, but he's far from convinced.

"And you my dear Thomas." Mrs. Muller continued, far away these considerations. "You'll be as good as your brother, I'm sure of it. Try to have some fun okay ?"

He did his warmest smile.

"Of course mom. I love you too."

It was a different way to express his feelings, but it was just as much significant. He's also disappointed. But he'll not say it either. In this family, they weren't saying much. You had to read between the lines, to guess what they were thinking. An exercise Dan started to get used too. Anyway, their mother left after a last good bye. And they went back home.

This evening, probably to distract himself from his mother's departure, Thomas cooked another feast. According to Raphaël, he was always cooking a lot when he was troubled. Much for Dan pleasure, he was the one taking advantage of it. And boy, he cooks so well. Apparently, Thomas wasn't interested in a culinary's career, but he was so gifted for it.

"You enjoyed yourself." whispered Dan's boyfriend while stroking his distended stomach.

His rubs caused a slight series of belch. They were comfortably lying on their bed after this succulent diner.

"I can't resist a good meal." confessed the junior. "You know I have zero control over my eatings habits."

"Yeah, I noticed." chuckled Raphaël.

Slowly, he kissed his boyfriend with passion. I love him so much. People always said Raphaël was insensitive, but that was so not true. The ginger lad smoothly rolled over Dan and kissed him again.

"If Thomas doesn't stop, you will end up fat again. And I'm pretty sure he won't stop."

As he spoke, he fondled Dan's chest and belly. His touch was sensual, enjoyable. It feels so nice. Raphaël was more than appealing, and the junior was already getting aroused.

"I don't care about that." he replied. "Do you ?"

"Absolutely not."

Dan's hands found a way to Raphaël's ass. A firm and solid ass. His boyfriend unclothed them. Oh boy. I'm gonna love this night.

Raphaël left early in the morning, around 6 a.m. He would be gone for almost two weeks, until saturday 19th. Dan escorted him to his bus. It wasn't the first time they were separated for a long time, but it always felt bad. I miss him each time. But they would manage, they always did.

"I'll call you once I'm there." assured Raphaël. "And I'll relay my schedule to you."

"Sure thing."

Dan hugged him firmly. I want to have you a bit more.

"You'll look over Thomas, right ? I know he's acting weird since this case with Liam last year... I think he's more disturbed by this stuff than he pretends to be."

"You worry too much honey." reassured him Dan. "But I swear I'll take care of him."

It's only the third time you and your mother ask me to do it after all. The bus left five minutes later. The junior looked his boyfriend go away for a moment, gloomy. Then, he headed back home. Much to his surprise, Thomas was already awake. And he had made breakfast. A big breakfast. Well, what is the more worrying right now is how much weight I'll put on in only two weeks ?

To be continued

The setting is now finished. Let’s see if Thomas will be able to resist his desire with his crush... Especially when Dan has no problem with the feeding part at all ;)

[protectorsofthewood]

Abby and Wendy - Episode 37

Episode 37

Professor Richardson looked at Abby in surprise, and nodded. “So you’ve noticed that too! Yes, climate change denial is based on loyalty to a fossil fuel culture, and is related to some very explosive issues: ethnicity, race, heritage, some people’s sense of personal identity.” “Yeah,” returned Freddy Baez with a weary sigh. “You mean white nationalism, the white power movement, a deeply rooted demon.” Amy Zhi spoke for the first time. “It’s true. This is a dangerous moment. A lot of the work we’ve done over many years... it’s all up in the air now. Governor Palmer has approved my father’s ideas because they save money. The Parks Department more than pays for itself. But now the governor’s big donors don’t like what they see. We’ve been hiding in plain sight, but that era is over. We have to defend ourselves. My father could be fired. The biogas operation could be closed down, especially the part in Half Moon. The entire population of Rivergate could be driven out of their homes. We know what that means. The governor got a lot of pushback after the Sonny Walker interview, but I’m sure they haven’t given up. So I agree with Abby. We have to defend ourselves.” Amy was dressed like Sara in a STAFF tee shirt and jeans. It’s like they’re they’re in uniform, thought Abby, soldiers ready for their orders. Ricardo leaned forward, closer into the circle. “I’d like to get back to Freddy’s idea: We need a story. Perhaps I can help. Many of you know I have a chance to present our ideas at the coming United Nations conference. The preliminary gathering will be in River City in just a month. The conference itself, with representatives from over a hundred nations, will meet in River City in two months. I must present my paper and recommendations on Tuesday the 25th of September. I intend to be ready with an analysis of what we’ve accomplished, including the social, political, and economic assets and obstacles, as well as the technical problems. I need to visit locations where biogas is produced and have access to people and resources. Who works on your project? Who adapts cars and furnaces and stoves for biogas? How much does it cost? Is the supply reliable? What becomes of the compost? I’m in a rush just like the rest of you. And make no mistake; this will be a story, and we’ll all have to decide how to present it.” Freddy’s brown eyes were full of fire. Abby had never seen his drive, his intensity before. “So, Abby,” he said. “Can we visit these biogas sites? Can we interview people, and run a series on the economics and legalities of the operation? Can we estimate the practical implications for our audience? It can’t be too abstract. We need on-the-ground details, personal stories.” “To all of that, the answer is yes. Lluvia, Phoebe, and I are here to work with you, and help present Half Moon Park, Rivergate, the West Isle, and Fisher’s island as models of the way things can be done. You can talk to farmers in Middletown already producing their own biogas. And yes, you can talk to people who deliver fuel, adapt engines, and have to get paid for what they do.” “Amy,” Freddy asked, “how does that sound for you?” “It has to be done. But... you understand, my father will not participate. No interviews, no emails, no statements for the press. Don’t expect his office to reply. His position is that this effort is economic, not environmental. His office will say only one thing: Biogas

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saves the taxpayer money. The Parks and Sanitation Departments pay for themselves. That’s our strong suit, and it’s all you can expect from him.” “I do believe,” returned Freddy, “that Amy has just given us a key element of the story. The people who make this possible are not rich for the most part. This project has blossomed without major corporations and vast incomes for executives. We’re talking about a local, grassroots industry that can be replicated. I think that storyline suits both Ricardo and myself.”

Ricardo refilled Freddy’s wine glass. They clinked glasses, and raised them to the whole group, who returned the toast with coffee cups. In the silence that followed Lluvia spoke for the first time. Her voice was very quiet, and the group listened closely. “I volunteer to be a guide for any group wanting to see any part of our biogas, composting, and agricultural methods. I won’t volunteer for interviews, but I’ll find people who will volunteer. We can go to Rivergate, the West Isle, and Fisher’s Island. We can visit homes and collection sites, and look at boats, stoves, cars, trucks, and furnaces that run on biogas. But someone else will have to give permission and guide reporters visiting Half Moon Park.”

“Bennie Nimzowitsch is our Park Manager,” Amy told them. “Speak to him first, and he’ll ask for permission up the bureaucratic ladder. Ultimately the governor will have to give permission or not. There are pluses and minuses for him either way. We’ll just have to wait and see. But meanwhile, the Rivergate part of the story will be a wonderful place to start.”

Ricardo looked around the circle. “We’ve come a long way in less than an hour. I haven’t mentioned the Evansville part of the picture because we’ve got that covered. Mayor Ellis has been increasing purchases of biogas from the park system for seven years or so. Henry is familiar with the technology and the politics.” Ricardo nodded to the young assistant professor.

Henry thanked Ricardo and gave out his phone number and email address. “I’m eager to know all of you,” he said. “I’m doing my graduate thesis on this subject, and hope to visit your sites and include you in my research. This is a wonderful opportunity, and I’m very grateful.” He looked around the room with hesitant, vulnerable blue eyes, obviously pleading for acceptance.

Ricardo gave people a moment to reassure Henry, and then said, “I’m sure you’re all hungry. Let’s trade email addresses and move this train forward.” Abby frowned. “There’s a problem. We’ve been warned not to carry cell phones. We’ve been warned of efforts to hack our phones and computers. So to reach Lluvia or anyone in Rivergate, call Sonny Walker’s secretary, named Chris. Sara, maybe you can help move this along.”

“I’m on it. This is my department. Don’t worry about a thing. But what about Sulay and Nico? Where do they fit in?” Abby smiled. “Phoebe and I are supervising them. We need them in Middletown. But tomorrow morning they’ll be here with the soccer teams for the games in your stadium.” “Got it. I’ll find them. Keep the news coming.”

“I’ll know where they are,” Phoebe told her. “I’ll help you.” No one spoke. People looked at each other, wondering if Phoebe’s words had concluded the meeting. But Ricardo leaned forward again. “I apologize, but I need to ask two more questions, and please, answer them any way you wish, or don’t answer them at all. First,

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I’m under pressure from my colleagues in other fields – history, anthropology, archeology. They want to know who could help them find sites to study and people to interview in Rivergate and the forest preserve. I tried to be polite and said I’d look into it, but I certainly have promised nothing. But now I ask: Can any of our professors interested in the history of the Half Moon Valley, or the archeology of the Valley, speak to any of you about any information you may have?”

“No,” replied Abby. “We are in no position to guide any such inquiry, and will prevent it if possible.” “I thought so. Rest assured, I will offer nothing. And I’ll warn you if anything of the kind is moving forward.”

Abby gave him a smile. “Thank you. And be aware that the forest preserve is run by the state, and I believe will fall under the authority of Amy’s father. We’ve been protected so far.” Amy nodded.

“Finally,” Ricardo went on, “I’m curious if there is an important reason why all of you...” he was looking at Abby, Phoebe, and Lluvia, “have suddenly made this generous offer to partner with us.” The three glanced at each other. “I can think of one reason,” Phoebe said. “We’ve been through a lot of stress and trouble over the last two months. It’s been a shocking experience. We’ve had to learn to cope very fast.”

Ah! thought Abby. Go for it! Tell them. “We’ve tried to do things that are really quite ordinary, like build a community around the stores in our town, offer activities that people might like, especially for teenagers. These are things I grew up doing, things I had considered normal, like having festivals, music concerts, a soccer league, listening to our local minister and supporting the mission of the church. But we’ve had to realize that we’re facing very powerful, wealthy, and determined enemies. Problems have opened up that have been hidden for decades. We’ve had to fight for basic community goals. Freddy has seen some of this. What Sara called the mysteries in Middletown have arisen around what I used to consider ordinary small- town events. “Now... you could say that Reverend Tuck’s sermon, the one where he called climate change a sin... well, I do see that many people will regard that as threatening. But doing nothing about it is even more threatening. We’ve realized we have to fight a larger political battle. What I’m interested in is that battle. Middletown is a microcosm of the wide world. So I ask: What happens tomorrow morning? How can we contribute? How do we follow up? Can we get involved in events surrounding the United Nations conference? We’re opening up because circumstances are forcing us to get together and stand for something, or our world will become an unrecognizable nightmare.” Sara clapped. “Please, all three of you! Tomorrow after the gathering at Hamilton Hall, our group will meet, discuss the day’s events, and plan for the future. You’re all invited. And please, help us at tomorrow’s event. It’s an effort to create dialogue and understanding between the trustees, students, and faculty. We want the trustees to share power with the college community, and not act like the students are children and the faculty are absent-minded professors, lost in abstract research. We’re in this together. And I’ll have to speak on your behalf, and present ideas from this meeting. But I don’t

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have the authority and respect to respond to the trustees’ presentation. Ricardo, that job can only be done by you. I wish we could help, but you know you’ll be on the spot.” “Don’t apologize, Sara. I’ve been eager for this job for years. If only I can be on the spot a dozen more times in the next few months! What good is Evansville College, what good is being a professor, what good is having a new department called Energy in the Age of Climate Change? It’s time to plan, organize, speak up. It’s time to act.” He slammed the flat of his hand onto the table.

They all stared in surprise. “Okay Ricardo!” cried Sara with a big smile. “We’re with you.” Freddy rubbed his hands together. He had a gleam in his eye. “This is why I entered the news business! Are we all on board?” “Yes! Of course! Absoluuuutly!” Their voices responded at once. “Any more questions?” No one spoke. “Thank you all!” Ricardo stood up. “Let’s eat!”

Sara and Amy departed immediately after the meeting, saying they would grab a sandwich in the student center and eat with the organizers of tomorrow’s gathering. “Sorry to insist on that word, ‘gathering’,” Sara told them. “But a street demonstration and protest would be a disaster for us. We’re doing all we can to debate policy, backed up by a well-behaved crowd. We need the right kind of media attention.”

Amy pulled on her sleeve. “Come on! They’ll be finished before we get there!” And they were gone. Lluvia, Phoebe, Abby, and Henry Tims took a table together in the luxury of the faculty dining room. Henry presented himself as their guide for the evening, and offered to escort them to the gallery. An hour later, Lluvia, Phoebe, Abby, and Henry Tims were walking past the college dormitories looking for a building known as the A.D. – short for Art Department. There they expected to meet Alex Johnson, who would give them a room for the night. “We’re just in time,” Henry told them. “The gallery closes at 9.” He led them through the glass door of a modern, very wide, two story building with enormous windows.

A few students were talking in the lobby. “It’s got nothing to do with modern art,” argued one voice. “It’s some kind of weird throw-back. I don’t know why they’re giving it any attention.” “It’s gets attention because it’s relevant,” retorted another voice. “He raises conflicts. Gender, climate change, poverty, sex, religion...”

“You see all that? I don’t... and he can’t even draw. People just buy it because it’s cheap.” Henry led them into a clean white room with a polished hardwood floor, immaculate white walls, and a ten-foot ceiling with track lighting. Abby counted fourteen prints on thick white paper held on the walls at eye level with pushpins. They were all deep red or brown. A few were fairly small, but the majority were pictures about two by three feet printed on enormous sheets of paper. At the far end hung a tapestry about two and a half by three feet, showing an abstract female figure on a wavy background that reminded Abby of small prehistoric rock sculptures she had seen in some book in high school. Other abstract symbols appeared across the upper six inches.

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On another wall she was not surprised to see the red print of Noah’s Ark that had been displayed on the Students Against Fossil Fuels banner. A dragon or snake ran across the top of the design, turned downward at the corner, and became a head vomiting the flood covering the bottom of the picture. The identical dragon appeared in the next, even larger print. But there it was spitting fire onto what looked like the skyline of River City. Fires were burning in many places. Figures were fleeing the nightmare.

“Well, what d’you think?” asked Lluvia. “They look like visions,” murmured Abby, still staring. “Are these really by the Alex we used to know?” “Aren’t we staying at his house tonight?” whispered Phoebe. “Is he here?” Lluvia looked around. “Don’t see him. But he definitely invited us.” “Look at this little design where the signature usually goes,” whispered Abby with a thrill in her voice. “I’ve seen that before... Have you?” “I’ve seen it in prints and weaving by Alex... but, I can’t think of anywhere else.” “Well... I have. I want one of these prints.” Taking his role as their host seriously, Henry had not deserted them. He stood nearby talking to a woman behind a long table covered with prints. They joined him there and studied the artwork and the prices. The prints were very cheap as art prices go, at ten to forty dollars each. “Just five more minutes,” announced the woman in charge. “If you want a print, now is the time.” She was making sales to a small line of visitors. Abby actually had money in her pocket and wanted a very small brown print with four shapes side by side. The first might have been a tall and jagged piece of rock; the second was a naked man with this hands and head in a position of prayer; the third was a tree with a bird on an upper branch overlooking the man; and the fourth was made of three thick wavy lines that reminded her of water. There was something so pleading and vulnerable about the man that Abby’s heart went out to him. The print seemed to depict a beautiful but scary world. “Would you like to buy it?” asked the woman. “Not now,” Abby said. “I don’t want to fold it.” “I’ll put it in a little tube for you. Just ten dollars.” “Abby,” called Phoebe, standing near the door. “Alex has gone home. Henry will take us.” She quickly pulled out ten dollars and tucked the tube into her backpack. “So you know the artist?” asked the woman. Abby was about to run out the door to catch up with her friends, but could not resist the question. “I haven’t seen him in many years. How’s he doing? I’m amazed I can afford something here.” “He sells a lot though. I’m Olivia.” “I’m Abby. Sorry, got to run, my friends are leaving.” She had turned her back when Olivia shouted after her, “You’re the Abby? From Middletown?” “Just here for tomorrow’s event! Got to run.” And she was out the door. Henry, Phoebe, and Lluvia were waiting in the lobby. “You bought one of those? Let’s see it!” “Just ten dollars. I couldn’t resist it.” She pulled the 8x6 inch print out of the tube and displayed it.

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“Yeah, I’ve seen those around,” Henry told them. “A few are quite popular. Kind of different than what you usually see.” “So what’s this guy like?” Phoebe asked. Lluvia was hesitant, but she replied: “He’s nice, but kind of obsessed with his artwork. But it looks like he’s selling some now, and that will ease him up a bit. When Diego and I took him and his sister back to Rivergate last year he hardly opened his mouth. He just stared around and drew on a sketchpad. He was kind of a loner then, but has friends now. He’s part of this group of activists. Hey, I know where we are, Henry. I’ve got it from here.”

“Great to meet all of you,” Henry said. “You know... before you go, I just want to tell you how glad I am that Ricardo is including me in this project. I’ll be teaming up with Sara to visit Middletown next week. And I’ll see you all tomorrow. Keep your fingers crossed and hope for a good event.” He held up a V sign and headed back toward the college.

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[phroyd]

PART TWO

Forces of habit

The story of Amber Wyatt’s assault begins in some sense a decade earlier, with another assault — and another failure of irresponsible adults and their children to face consequences. In 1996, another 16-year-old Arlington girl was allegedly sexually assaulted at another high school party, and another opportunity to prosecute those responsible was ignored. And, with that, another moment of clarity that could have turned toward reform instead degenerated into a rally for the guilty.

On Sept. 13, 1996, a 16-year-old junior at Arlington High School was allegedly sexually assaulted at a party while she was drunk. According to contemporaneous news reports, she alleged that dozens of her peers stood by as others assaulted her with a condom-topped broomstick, exposed their genitals and urinated on her. The girl was hospitalized, but no sexual assault charges were filed against her assailants. The town helped see to that.

Police interviewed some 35 students after the incident; none supported the girl’s allegations. Coupled with the victim’s broken memory, this meant police were never able to bring any perpetrator to justice for the sexual assault. Instead, police issued simple assault and disorderly conduct citations to a smattering of teens who had been at the party, a light reprimand given the circumstances. Nonetheless, some parents resented even those meager reprisals.

The parents’ objections might have remained at the muted level of privileged suburbanites grousing over traffic tickets had it not been for Lynn Hale, then superintendent of the Arlington Independent School District, who took it upon herself to try to prevent another such episode.

Less than two weeks after the girl’s report, Hale told a reporter from the Dallas Morning News that she wasn’t convinced the district was “implementing the appropriate consequences . . . for students who drink.” And she followed through, instituting a district-wide policy under which any student caught at a location where alcohol or drugs were being used would be banned from extracurricular activities for the entire school year, regardless of whether police cited them for use.

Parents revolted. Seven families of students affected by the policy filed suit, and in January 1997, a local judge invited them to debate the policy with members of the school board. After meeting with the students and their parents and considering the arguments of the school board and its attorney, the judge, saying he was speaking “as a parent,” thanked Hale for her attempt to do something — anything — about the problem. And then the judge effectively overturned Hale’s policy, reinstating some 20 students to their extracurricular activities.

Hale didn’t remain in her post much longer to see what would become of the phenomenon she had observed and tried to halt. By the summer of 1998, she had already been replaced as superintendent by Mac Bernd, who eased the anti-drinking policy to include a penalty of just six weeks for first-time offenders. “I have a somewhat jaundiced view of how much control we do have over teenagers,” Bernd, several years retired, told me in 2015 in an Arlington restaurant lined with framed drawings of Texas college and high school mascots. He wanted to preserve, Bernd said, “an opportunity for redemption.”

It’s impossible to know whether Hale’s tougher policy would have given pause to anyone present at the 2006 party that Wyatt attended. For a deterrent to be effective, consequences must seem real. And it’s easy to see how, with Hale’s rule a vanquished memory and the case that sparked it an item of urban legend, a pair of Arlington teenagers with ample opportunity and bad intentions might have reasonably concluded no harm would come to them should they wantonly violate rules, policies or people. They would have been exactly right.

Amber Wyatt got married in March and is completing an undergraduate psychology program at Texas State University. (Amanda Voisard for The Washington Post)

And so it came to pass that August evening that Martin senior Arthur Aven stood in a suburban driveway facing a decision too momentous for his years: Believe the girl who had pulled him aside to tell him that she had just been sexually assaulted — or believe one of her alleged assailants, who was among his closest friends.

About 45 minutes earlier, by Aven’s recollection, homeowner Cindy Marks had asked him to take Wyatt home. (Marks would later explain to police that unnamed kids had asked her to make Wyatt leave, because Wyatt was being, in her words, “obnoxious.”) But Aven didn’t have his car; he had planned to spend the night with the soccer player and was counting on him for a ride. And so the soccer player had volunteered to take Wyatt home, along with the football player, then circle back and pick up Aven.

Perhaps Aven was relieved. He told police that Wyatt had been hanging on him all night, flirting with him in the pool, loudly declaring to no one in particular that she was “gonna f--- this guy tonight.” But he wasn’t interested; he just wanted to enjoy the party. With the two boys and Wyatt on their way home, it had seemed as if the night was winding down.

But then the soccer player returned to the Marks residence with Wyatt — and she immediately took Aven aside, sobbing hysterically, brandishing a bleeding wound on her arm and telling him that she had just been raped.

“It was hard for me to really believe anything at the time,” Aven told me, sitting in a Fort Worth Starbucks this April. His short-cropped blond hair swept up from his forehead in a stubborn cowlick, just as it had in his varsity basketball yearbook photo back in 2006. In school, he had been well liked and quietly bright. He had been close with the soccer player at the time, and they remained friendly enough years later that the soccer player was part of Aven’s wedding party. But Aven still seemed deeply troubled, both in 2006 and when I spoke to him, by what had happened that night.

Aven wrote in the statement he provided to police that, as soon as Wyatt told him she had been raped, he “asked Mrs. Marks and a girl named Carlye Bowers to come over to where me and Amber were standing. Amber repeated exactly what she told me to Mrs. Marks and Carlye.” Marks, 49 at the time, did not call the police. Instead, she suggested that Wyatt go to an upstairs room in her house, where she lay down. Bowers declined to comment for this article.

Wyatt was disoriented and confused, Aven recalled in his statement. She even misidentified one of the two boys she said assaulted her — the football player — instead naming a third boy who had been at the party as one of the perpetrators. But according to Marks, the football player had come back with the soccer player and Wyatt, and then left in his own truck. And those were the two boys Wyatt would tell the police had raped her: the ones who had been with her in the truck.

In his statement, Aven recalled standing in a nearby hallway with Bowers, Marks and his friend, discussing what had happened. The friend seemed surprised by Wyatt’s accusation, Aven said, and offered a competing version of events: On the way to Wyatt’s house, she said that she needed to urinate. Rather than stopping at a local fast-food joint or gas station, the boys figured it would be best to pull over behind a friend’s storage shed and let Wyatt pee on the ground. She fell down as she got out of the truck, Aven recalled his friend saying, which was how she had come by the bloody abrasion on her arm.

Somewhere near the close of this narration, Wyatt appeared in the door of the guest room, “too afraid to be alone,” Aven wrote. She asked whether Aven would stay with her until she fell asleep, and he agreed. Aven went into Marks’s guest room with Wyatt, helped her into bed and did his best to comfort her. He pulled out a trundle bed alongside her and laid down facing her. Wyatt recalled in her interview with police that Marks appeared at some point and gave her boxers and a T-shirt to sleep in, which she changed into. With Aven at her side, Wyatt eventually fell asleep.

The next day, Aven woke up alone. Wyatt was gone, the party was long over, and the nightmarish evening had given way to an ordinary summer morning in suburbia. And the boy who had been trusted with the markedly adult task of comforting a terrified, injured girl now called his father to come pick him up from the Marks home.

When police arrived there a day and a half later, after Wyatt filed a complaint, they found Cindy Marks polite and respectful while they gathered the bedding Wyatt had slept on and searched for any additional clothes she may have left behind. But when Marks made her sworn statement several weeks later — after canceling her initial appointment with police — the story she supplied differed vastly from the version of events Aven and Wyatt had related.

“At approx 11:30 pm I was shutting down the party,” she wrote. “The kids told me Amber was being obnoxious and to get her to leave. I asked [the soccer player] to take her home. He agreed and left. At approx 20-60 minutes [the soccer player] arrived back at the house.”

On the same October day that Marks wrote her statement, a detective interviewed her on camera for an hour and 45 minutes. In the video, Marks chewed gum while crisply answering questions. “No one seemed out of control to me except for Amber,” she said, “and she seemed kinda, I don’t know what it was, drugged up or something.”

Marks’s answers appear curated to emphasize her lack of culpability in the underage drinking that had transpired in her backyard. She claimed she didn’t believe Wyatt to be under the influence of alcohol. “I didn’t feel like she was drunk because I didn’t know they were drinking,” she said. “I figured she was on drugs, because I’ve also heard that her stomach has been pumped for drugs.” (Wyatt says that her stomach had never been pumped after drug use as a teen.) Yet Aven and Wyatt each admitted to having been drinking at the Marks party, and the school’s investigation would later conclude there had certainly been alcohol consumption in Marks’s backyard that night.

Even more striking, Marks also denied ever hearing anything about a rape that night, from Wyatt, Aven or anyone else. “You know, I just felt like she needed to go to sleep,” was her final analysis of Wyatt’s condition in her interview with police. Reached by phone in the summer of 2015, Marks declined to comment for this article. She also has not responded to many other recent attempts I’ve made, including over this summer, to get her side of the story.

In her video interview, Marks mocked how Wyatt had spoken that night, heavy and slow. The main fact about Wyatt circulating among the cheerleading moms, Marks said, “was that she does quad bars,” a street name for the prescription drug Xanax. She claimed that Amber had stolen her daughter’s sunglasses a year or more ago, though another student had returned them. She told the detective the alleged rapists were “good boys,” emphasized Wyatt’s “horrible reputation” for drug and alcohol use, and said she found it “odd” that Wyatt’s mother never called to ask what had happened, as if that had been the greatest abdication of responsibility to take place during that long night.

End Of Part II

Phroyd