#it is so funny to me that my brain smoothed together info in a way where I forgot about Austria and thought there was a guy

[byulsgrease]

if you arent too busy, can you write a idol!hwasa x idol!reader, wherein they both have to practice with each other for a special stage. However on the first meeting they become starstruck and cant believe somethings are real, but soon warm up to each other?

i'm not terribly busy but this still took a while anyway oops - sorry this took so long anon! here you go :D

if anyone has requests for the other members hmu cuz I've got 2 more hyejin reqs after this one (not that I'm complaining)

"who says we can't do something on our own?"

(hwasa x idol!reader, ~1.2k words)

cw: food + alcohol mention (y'all know how it is)

I named someone Minjeong - it's not Aespa's Winter, idk anything about 4th gen gg's - 민정 is my Korean name so it's just what came to mind

"Hey, wake up. You've gotta see this. GET UP," a voice piercing through the fog of your sleep.

What a rude awakening. Your shoulders being shaken vigorously by a pair of small hands meant they belonged to none other than Minjeong, your youngest group member. You rolled over to glare menacingly at her with one eye open, trying to pull your brain out of the slumber. All you could see was the bright light of her phone shining in your eyes - a video of some kind. But then you heard the audio:

"Have you seen the clip?" asked the interviewer.

"Yes, my members and many MooMoos made sure I saw it"— Moos? Oh, it's Hwasa. WAIT. Both your eyes flew open as you sat up and snatched Jeongie's phone out of her hand to stare at the video. Your mind immediately flashed back to the interview you did last week - they asked who you most wanted to collaborate with, if there were no limitations. Your ears started to heat up at the sheer thought of the flustered mess of an answer you gave - of course you said Hwasa. Both of you debuted relatively close to each other, within a year, but never interacted much over the years. Mamamoo as a group was a force to be reckoned with, but there was just something about Hwasa specifically. You mostly just admired her unique singing voice and undeniable stage presence, and her relentless drive to always be herself in an industry constantly trying to fit women into a box.

Finally snapping out of re-living that embarrassment, your attention turned back to the phone in your hand. The interviewer must've asked her to send a message in response to you, because you couldn't believe that she was waving and saying, "How haven't we gotten to know each other better over all these years? I'd love to work with you on something sometime," curtly dipping her head in a slight bow.

"SEE? You needed to see that," Minjeong rushed to say, full of energy. "And close your mouth, your jaw's on the floor," jokingly pointing.

You side-eyed her and shut your mouth. "Is this what Loco felt like when she called him during Hyena on the Keyboard?" you wondered aloud.

"At least she's not calling you while on camera," she commented, knowing full well that you'd probably embarrass yourself again if she did. "But hey, at least she noticed you! Can I have my phone back now?" It would be a dream come true to collaborate with her, but cross-company collabs... always a pain. that couldn't be helped. The fantasy abruptly ended with demands from your rumbling stomach. Done with your what-if's, you placed the phone back in your maknae's outstretched hand to get up and make breakfast.

~~~~

With award show season rolling around, the crazy scramble of rehearsing for special live stages without leaking sets and collabs began. Checking your email that morning showed a schedule to record the backing track for a special live stage, but that was it. With who? You texted your members a screenshot, but they all told you that block of time in their schedule was empty. A solo stage? The solo mini-album you released this cycle did relatively well, the title track got a music show win, but not a multi-week chart-topper by any means. Possibilities turning over in your mind, you stepped out from your place to head to the company, totally in the dark about what was in store.

The recording studio always smelled the same along with the couches, a comfort for all the insanely long nights and crack-of-dawn early mornings over the years. With a bit of time to kill, you plopped down on one and gingerly patted the worn cushions as some kind of symbolic thank-you for supporting you (literally).

A hesitant but loud knock sent your gaze directly to the door. Watching it slowly open, you leaned forward to see who it was. Needless to say, your jaw fell to the floor again as you clapped a hand over your gaping mouth, eyes widening. Like a soldier obeying a command, you immediately stood up as straight as possible and bowed profusely at Hwasa, sporting a very similar expression on her face (which you failed to notice, your mind running a million miles a minute).

After a series of frantic bows and miscellaneous utterances to each other, she spoke. "It's nice to finally meet you," she said with calm, surveying your frenzied state. "I guess we're granting that collab wish from your interview, huh?"

The red-hot embarrassment leapt to your face. "I...I definitely made a fool of myself answering that question. And our maknae showed me your interview clip too, which was cool, but never did I think it would actually happen," you stammered. I should probably stop talking.

"Well, here I am," she half-smiled coolly. "Let's get started, I'm really looking forward to finally work with you on this," a gleam in her eye and a hint of excitement in her voice.

The studio suddenly felt a lot smaller with her in it, despite there only being your managers, the producer, and the both of you - less people than you and your members alone. Both of you remained relatively quiet the whole time, rather unsure of what to say or talk about. You watched enough MMMTV to know that all the members on their own were shyer than together, and Hwasa knew the same was true for you. But the work basically took care of itself, seamlessly taking turns in the recording booth, witnessing each other's work style and process. The both of you knew your way in front of a mic, seasoned professionals by now. Upon wrapping up, you bowed politely to each other after a quick exchange of KaTalk info, a short and sweet goodbye.

That was... anticlimactic. I mean, it's finally happening - I can't believe it. But maybe I was too idealistic about maybe creating a meaningful relationship with her outside of work... What does she think of me?

~~~~

In the days leading up to the collab stage, you kept going back and forth on whether to reach out or not, despite now being in possession of her contact info. What would you even say? Thoughts of a witty one-liner or relatable meme came to mind, but maybe she'd assume the worst - that you were clout-chasing, or something. Anxieties abuzz, your phone vibrated in your pocket. The KaTalk notification sprawled across your screen. Speak of the devil, it's her.

"Hey, awards season has me stressed. I know you must pretty busy right now too, but I somehow get off early tomorrow if you wanna grab dinner after work?" You had to reread that one. Oh, what? She's inviting me?

Trying not to be weird about responding too quickly, you typed out, "Wow, yeah, that sounds great! ^^ wait, your company doesn't care about you going out to eat during award season?"

"nah, they stopped having that kind of control over us a while ago, we are the money-maker of the company, after all 😏"

"so I guess this means they don't check your phone either ㅋㅋㅋ"

"nope :)"

You proceeded to set a time and place to meet, someplace with meat.

In the process of feasting on an inordinate amount of gopchang imbued with a splash of beer, you learned a fair amount about each other. You talked career, professional aspirations, the weird habits of your members, and more. What surprised you most was the amount of things she already knew about you, having admitted to watching some of your behind-the-scenes content after seeing your interview clip.

"Ah... I'm sorry if I came across as distant during that first recording session," she confessed, pausing to sip her beer. "I honestly didn't know what to do with myself, I felt a little star-struck."

"Oh what?? I felt the exact same, so no worries - and sorry if I came off similarly distant," you rambled back. A bit of silence fell between you, acknowledging the mutual sentiment. You spoke up after a bit, "Thanks for inviting me out tonight, I didn't realize how much I needed this."

"Thank you for making the time, I had fun getting to know you better," she articulated with a smile. "Maybe it'll make the collab stage better," she added on jokingly. You responded with a nod and expression of mutual affirmation.

~~~~

After that, messaging each other became a regular occurrence, that gopchang outing having broken the ice. Honestly, you tried your best to talk about anything besides work, but the baseline of shared understanding connected you in a way that came more naturally than it did with your non idol friends.

You stood across the way from her at the sound check for the final stage, dressed in joggers and slides. Funny to think that you'd be recording this for real in a couple hours, making eyes with the blinking red light on the cameras surrounding you. It sucks that fans wouldn't get to experience the energy and atmosphere of the performance - Hyejin alone is one thing, but adding someone else into her stage presence? Unmatched. There's nothing quite like a live performance - and while you knew everyone in the industry dealt with the consequences of the pandemic, it certainly took a toll to perform and not feel the energy from fans. But realistically, nothing you could do about it. The sound check went over smooth like butter. The stage chemistry came flowing naturally between you both, even when bare-faced and dressed in just sweats.

And when the time came for the actual filming, you both absolutely killed it, an upbeat mash-up of TWIT and your title track. At the very end came a sliver of hesitation before throwing your arms around each other with a big smile for the ending fairy, proud of the work you accomplished together, and a mental fist-pump to yourself for making friends with one of the industry's finest.

Once again walking to a restaurant that served mostly meat to celebrate, you playfully proposed, "We... should do that again sometime." A little puff of air came out her nose in amusement.

"Yeah, we should. Too bad we're gonna have to wait a whole cycle before we can release anything else together again," she sighed longingly.

"Who says we can't do something on our own?"

[thanks-mike-stamford]

Fics that inspire my writing - Part II

This is Part II. Read Part I or Part III

Continuing the discussion, I grouped these fics together for something they have in common: author style! It was actually a bit hard choosing them because they are all written by authors who have a distinct style. Something in them that makes you recognise the author right away, that makes you think - oh yes, definitely is a story from this person. When you have a bunch of stories with the same kind of feel, it's hard to choose one to illustrate my point. Tip is: binge read the authors below!

Part II

I Used to Live Alone Before I Knew You by etothepii Back when there wasn't even s2 yet I was already reading stuff from this author. I absolutely love their fics. This one is super interesting, a Good Omens fusion book version - beyond numerous screaming posts on the internet I'm not really familiar with this universe.

Something I like in all their fics and it's worked beautifully in this one is that there's more than it seems under the surface. The characters are not an open book even to the reader, and the narrator (close Sherlock POV) doesn't give all the information. The narrator sometimes doesn't even explain the information we are given. The facts are presented piece by piece, building the layers of a character, making it clear that even if right now, for this story, it's not relevant, this person is a complex human being (or angel. Or demon) that doesn't exist solely for the purpose of the plot. Two factors help with this: the non-linear narrative, that permits we only know a part of someone when it becomes relevant; and the sort of omniscience of Sherlock. I say sort of because yes, he's a demon and he has access to the core of someone. He's able to fish for stuff that happened in someone's life and how they feel about that as a way to build their vulnerability to sin. However, this is not necessarily mind-reading or future prediction. He makes deductions based on the soul, let's put this way. But because he can't use it to predict exactly what is going to happen, he still gets surprised. Because the characters are layered, they are able to be consistent with what we know and yet unexpected, up until the end.

The combination of giving powers to the narrator and using non-linearity is brilliant, working to enhance the themes behind the plot, which are about the complexity of the human soul. I'm working on a WIP that has similar themes and I try to play with these aspects to make it smooth like this story, instead of a philosophical essay using voices of characters. I've tried the non-linear narrative in a published fic, but it didn't have the same level of success in serving the story. Let's see if it goes better when I try again.

What It Is by toyhto This author has two main things going on in their fics: the type of angst that makes you question yourself, and the type of humour that is not really about trying to make you laugh, it's a very weird type of humour. I love weird stuff.

This fic is not Toyhto's best angsty one or best humourous one, but it's one that creates a good mix of both, like a tragicomedy (but without a tragic ending). You have John not knowing how to feel about Sherlock, and Sherlock gambling possibilities on how to fix the situation. It's the narrative that fascinates me. The story keeps its cards close, the reader is often a bit uncomfortable, a bit wrong-footed. You don't know where the story is going (hell, sometimes you don't even know where a scene is going), so you keep hanging up until the end. There's an underlying panic in how characters interact, but it's never hysterical, it's never loud or obnoxious. And then you find yourself snorting in situations that shouldn't have been funny. Life is usually not one genre or the other, so why literature should be? I love that the story never tries to be something (sad, funny, intriguing), and yet it is. It's not easy to pull something like this.

I have a WIP currently on my drive folder where I try to play with this tragicomedy narrative thing. This fic inspires me in trying to keep the reader on their toes all while looking effortless.

Borrowed Ghosts by DiscordantWords DiscordantWords has been out there since 2016 showing how there's more than a way to fix canon. In fact there are multiple ways. This is the author you want to go if you watch the show and think eeh this should have gone a different way. There's probably a story in here which takes the same premise you thought about.

This one is just too incredible. Because it picks up right from a crucial point in canon and said - ok, what if everything still happened, but they actually make sense? For this story consistency is key, and if canon gave us a John Watson making bad decisions while nursing an unreliable brain work, that's what you get. But make it make sense! This is what happens when you are on a roll of bad decisions, this story tells me. This is what happens when you're isolated from what before kept you on track. This is what happens when on top of everything your mind is playing you tricks: they don't just stop because you decided to. That's not how it works. This story acknowledges the bad stuff, but to fix them it doesn't propose miracles, and it definitely doesn't ignore them. We get the consequences but we also get the process of change that is necessary for things to be good once again. Like John says: there's a difference between wishing something happened differently and wishing it hadn't happened at all. But it did happen, so now what?

Make it canon divergence but character consistency and twist it to fix it, it's what inspires me in this fic.

The Ancillus's Tale by Chryse I reiterate that everything by Chryse is a must, but everyone that follows me on twitter had to deal with me constantly gushing about their most recent work for months, so it will be this one here. I just have a lot of feelings about this fic. Oh, yes, omegaverse again, inspired by The Handmaid's Tale.

The one aspect that comes to my mind when I think about Chryse's works is dark themes. If I want to read about fucked up stuff happening, I will go to them. And this particular fix has fucked up stuff from the first to the last chapter. And it's very immersive: you get inside the head of whoever is POV at the moment, Sherlock or John. You get their physical reactions, their thoughts, you know what they know. And the world building is on point: detailed enough that is totally credible, you can see reality becoming that way, but it's not described to exhaustion. We are presented the info about what we need to know, and rest is there, somewhere at your peripheral vision where you know it exists but it doesn't become a nuisance to the plot. But more important than that, it's how the dark themes are treated. It's never on black or white situations, surprisingly, despite the universe setting. The characters especially - they are allowed to have conflicted feelings, they are allowed to misbehave even if they are supposed to be on the good side, they have nuance and complexity. And the cherry on top: just because it has a dark premise, it doesn't mean it can't have a super satisfying happy ending that even brings comfort to the soul after letting it being hurt. We get snippets of comfort, the promise it's going to happen all along the fic, to compensate the extreme suffering the characters are going through. It's glorious.

I have been toying with the idea of writing something on the dark side. In fact my next multi chapter is super fucked up (but as always, with the certainty of a happy ending), and I hope it can see the world soon. I'm writing with this premise in mind: characters are allowed to have conflicted feelings, and they are allowed to misbehave, that won't make them the bad guys.

This was part II! If you missed part I, just click here. Part III is up!

[doorsclosingslowly]

They've Made of Our Bodies a Bleeding Stair

Jesper and Kaz try to retrieve Inej from Ketterdam without being recognized and murdered—and without Kaz getting ransomed back to Ravka as the the wayward Sun Summoner.

11k | Sun Summoner Kaz AU pt. 2 | Jesper/Kaz, Inej, past Kaz/Darkling content note: non-linear narrative, explicit sex, roleplay of past rape

“I want you to be him.”

“Of course,” Jesper replies. Then, articulately, once his brain’s caught up, “Uh. What?”

“The Darkling.” Kaz has turned his face away. He’s looking at the ramshackle marriage bed that takes up the bulk of this room he’s lured Jesper into. He unerringly picked the right closed door, too; he skipped the squeaky floorboards, as if he knew the exact layout of this—but it’s Kaz. He knows everything, even some dilapidated house in the Kerch countryside. The bed was probably a masterpiece of craftsmanship, when it was carved from some dark wood, a thousand years ago or whatever. The way it looks, it must’ve been old already when the previous owners of this farmhouse got it, and from the state of the house, they abandoned this place decades ago. Quite a lot of the furniture’s missing, either sold off when the place was left or stolen afterwards, but that bed was too worthless already.

The mattress is still there too. Probably fucking teeming with moth larvae and maggots and their combined accumulated shit, so it doesn’t bode too well for Jesper, how forcefully Kaz is staring at it.

“Please say it doesn’t involve the bed.”

“You said yes,” Kaz rasps, which is all the information Jesper needs to start gagging. Fake-gagging, for now, but if he sees even one wriggly little worm he’ll…

Bed. Darkling. That still doesn’t really… Want you to be him—oh—

“Yes, Jesper.” And how the hell with his ramrod tense back still turned towards Jesper—Jesper, who’s done nothing at all, hasn’t said anything except to register his displeasure at the idea of bathing in insect faeces and their squirming little manufacturers!—how the hell Kaz has realized that Jesper’s figured out what he probably means—it must be a confidence trick. Kaz likes those. But how—yeah, it’s not the point, but trying to understand whatever magic Kaz is using on him right now is much, much better for Jesper’s sanity than dwelling on the fact that Kaz might just have insinuated that he wants Jesper to pretend to be the Darkling, specifically the Darkling from that time he told Jesper about back in the Little Palace, the time he threw up after. The time he thought he could suppress his discomfort with touch long enough to seduce the Darkling into a partnership—seduce seduce, which means he wants—to flirt with Jesper? To sleep with Jesper? Is he actually saying he—

Oh. There’s a cracked mirror on the wall above the bed. That’s how Kaz saw his face.

Jesper would chalk the hallucination up to a hangover, but he’s not even drunk. Neither is Kaz, unless this old ruin of a farmhouse they broke into this morning is hiding barrels of wine the local youth haven’t made off with yet. Also, if he was hallucinating Kaz propositioning him he would—well, Jesper at least hopes he’d have enough self-respect not to make himself a stand-in for the man who bought and imprisoned Kaz for two years, controlled him by using his fears and modifying his body and cutting him off from every other person in the whole court, taking every single object he could have used to protect himself, and whatever those weird spines in Kaz’ chest are he’s probably responsible for them too. Jesper would not, actually, like the first and probably only time he’s allowed to kiss Kaz to be some kind of revenge-by-proxy thing where he recites the Darkling’s lines while Kaz swallows back bile, and then Kaz beats him up. Or murders him. It’s pathetic, but Jesper always imagined that kiss a little sweeter. Kissing over Haskell’s corpse. Kissing over the Darkling’s corpse. Kissing over the corpse of some other piece of shit who’s stupid enough to try using Kaz as their possession.

“Just warning you, I don’t have the costume or the script, so don’t expect something worthy of the Komedie Brute,” is what Jesper says instead.

Kaz’ eyebrow quirks. “You’re acted before, haven’t you? Improvised. You can flirt your way into anything. That was the main reason I kept you around.”

“You kept me around because I’m gorgeous, funny, and an incredible shot. I just play myself, if it’s seduction! Why would I improve upon perfection?”

“This isn’t seduction. He’s already locked me in the Little Palace for months at this point. Two escape attempts have failed. This is… speeding up the process,” Kaz says, nonchalantly enough it makes Jesper want to puke.

Which won’t help anything. He’s already agreed. And Kaz doesn’t care about moral objections, only practical ones. “I need more info. I haven’t actually met the Darkling.”

“You’ve met powerful men. You’ve met men who believe their righteous cause entitles them. You’ve met men mired in greed and vengeance—you’ve met me.”

“I like you.”

“Pretend you don’t, then. You used to complain about me in the Slat—of course I know, I knew everything that went on in the Dregs. You hated the way I seemed to know everything, and held it over you—so does he. You disliked my single-minded focus, the way you all seemed like pawns to me, my mockery. The way I held myself as something far superior to you. That’s a start.” Kaz limps a slow quarter circle around Jesper, and his dark eyes are burning with loathing. Jesper would hold him if he could. “You’re not asking why?”

“Uh, now that you mention—”

“I’m not going to tell you.”

Jesper sighs. Of course. He’s never expected anything else. Then he stands up straight, assuming his best the stick in my ass is so long it’s knocked the word fun from my brain pose that hopefully may pass for authoritative and slimes out, “What business, Mr Brekker?”

“Sun Summoner. Or Sunshine. He figured out Brekker’s a fake name on the first day.”

“Kaz Brekker’s a fake name?!” Jesper should have seen that coming, really… what does he even know about Kaz Brekker, truly? Except—

“It’s a name. It’s real enough. It’s feared. It’s mine.” Kaz’s eyes travel over the cobwebbed wall of the farmhouse bedroom, as if he was searching for the next lie to spin. Except that isn’t one of Kaz’ tells—Jesper’s seen him bamboozle and convince marks of the most stupid tales, and when Kaz wants them to believe him, he looks earnest. Young, depending on the role he plays, old, eager, stupid or wise. He doesn’t bother lying to Dregs, or rather: he doesn’t bother convincing them, usually. All his words are backed by the brutality of his cane. Who could be stupid enough to question even his weirdest utterances. “It just happens not to be one I was born with.”

“So what you’re saying is, the Darkling’s just not Kerch enough to get you?” Jesper grins. “Ketterdam, really—you know, I always really liked that about the Barrel, that healthy dose of ‘You are who you want and we don’t give a fuck to correct you.’ Anyway. Got it. You’re Kaz Brekker, but he’s a dick. Mr Sunbeam, what brings you into my office this evening?”

“The fete, Aleks.” Kaz shrugs off his coat, and then the purple kefta, too. He holds out the kefta in front of him, like he’s expecting Jesper to put it on. Well. That’s as good a start as any, and so Jesper turns and lets Kaz dress him into the robe he never wanted to wear.

“Then he says, ‘You must be nervous. After all, there are few gatherings in the Ketterdam slums that involve such spectacle.’” Kaz has sanded down his rasp somewhat, sounding almost smooth and seductive. He goes into a spiel of the Ravkan court and the inferiority of the Barrel that thankfully, he carries all by himself. Jesper wouldn’t even know what to say, except ‘Stop talking shit about the Barrel, you prick’ and that’s not exactly in character.

Kaz’ eyes periodically dart down to Jesper’s hands, and he realizes he’s fidgeting with the hem of the kefta’s sleeves. He stops.

“I am ready,” Kas says in his normal voice. His normal talking to a mark voice. “I realized what this demonstration represents—that I belong to something greater. It is as you said—we can offer Grisha and Ravkans hope. We. Together.” He stands up straight. Equally on both his legs. He winces. He’s not holding his cane, Jesper realizes. He’s not wearing his gloves. “I am ready to stand by your side. We should be partners. The Sun and the Dark.”

“Uh… great. We’ll be great together. Do great things. Better partners than enemies. Some of those rumours even freaked me out, you know—that kid with the wind-up toy in his throat—”

“Think before you speak, Jesper,” Kaz hisses. “Never let me lead. Never give me control. Every word is a cue to corral your prey where you want it—whether a compliment or a barely-there hidden threat.”

“Is that what you do?”

“Sometimes.” Kaz meets Jesper’s eyes. The tense mask of his face breaks into a smirk. “To be honest, I find the subtle craft of manipulation is wasted on you. You’ll obey anyway. Let’s go back to the start, and focus.”

Jesper shrugs off the kefta again and then lets Kaz dress him, again. He does his best imitation of Kaz, of that early Kaz before Jesper learned how he takes his coffee and before he saw the brutal twist of his face, that one time when the Dime Lions had Jesper on his knees and shoved a gun in his mouth. He plays the imperious tactician in his office who told his goons to drag Jesper up four flights of stairs with a bag over his head, ready to be shot for his debts, and then sold him on the one thing that gave his life meaning.

He insults Dirtyhands’ father and mother to his face, and gets really into it, too: Ketterdam’s full of idiots who’d miss the love of their life because they were busy trying to pry cobblestones off the streets to sell for half a sausage, and the harbour’s so filthy even the fish won’t fuck in it—keeping the brothels in good fish-ness, haha. Because the fish rent rooms so they don’t get fishy sex diseases from the water. Do fish get diseases from sex?

“Kill me now,” Kaz moans, and that one’s probably deserved.

“Anyway, my Sun Summoner, I’m sure you’ll perform well,” Jesper says with just the tiniest hint of slime.

“I am ready. I realized what this demonstration represents—that I belong to something greater. It is as you said—we can offer Grisha and Ravkans hope. We. Together.”

Jesper moves slowly, idly: not caging him in against the bed yet but definitely implying he can and will.

“I am ready to stand by your side. We should be partners. The Sun and the Dark.” Kaz swallows. “‘That means a lot to me. You mean a lot,’ is what you say now.”

How come the Darkling’s not constantly slipping on his own slimy slime trail?

“That means a lot to me.” Jesper gives Kaz a deep, smouldering look. The pockmarks on his cheeks. The jumping muscle in his jaw. The hint of a pained grimace from standing unaided. The boyish grin when he’s totally fucked over another gang boss and gets to gloat. The vicious hatred when someone touches his Crows. Licking powdered sugar off his gloves. “You mean a lot.”

And that’s it. The way Kaz looks at him—this is when the Darkling makes his move.

“I have been waiting for you for so long,” Jesper purrs smarmily, closing his eyes, moving in for the kiss, and—Kaz isn’t there anymore.

It was a single step backwards, because Kaz has hit the edge of the bed already, face blotched with humiliation, and the way he looks at Jesper is—angry is the least terrible interpretation. If he backs out now, Kaz is going to kill him for pitying him or catering to a weakness that honestly—how is not wanting this weak? But Kaz is Kaz, and Jesper’s just Jesper, and—

“Focus,” Kaz hisses. “You own Ravka. You will own the Sun, too. You have waited for this triumph—take it.”

“Why don’t we take this to the—” fuck you, Brekker, for making me say this— “bed, then? Take off your clothes. Don’t be scared.”

That’s a good dig. The kind of insult that looks super caring, unless you know Kaz enough to understand he sees any crack in his image as a dangerous failure. Jesper’s getting the hang of this malicious flirting thing, finally. When this is over, he’ll need to scrub the slime off himself twice.

Kaz looks at Jesper while he disrobes. At him, Jesper hopes against hope, at the real person he’s roped into his worst scheme yet with a goal that’s still totally obscure; at Jesper and not the asshole he’s imagining in his place. Kaz’ eyes trace his cheeks, dance over his shaved head, catch on the lips.

Jesper takes off his boots and gun belt, and the kefta. He undoes the fly of his trousers, pulls his dick out, and stops. He glares at Kaz, daring him to object to the attempt at making this slightly less miserable—Jesper’s the Darkling, he’s in charge, so Kaz can fuck off with his masochism. He’s done undressing. He’s not taking off his shirt or trousers. That layer of cloth stays on.

But Kaz doesn’t object. He stands up straight, naked, brittle, wincing, and then glancing away he mutters, “Ignore the antlers. He hadn’t done that yet.”

Fucking Darkling.

The antlers stick out of Kaz’ collarbones, uneven tines of—possession, mutilation, and Jesper’s eyes catch on a tiny set of grooves on the left one. The scabbed-over cuts underneath. The bruise from the gunshot. And even despite that horror, Kaz has a nice chest. Serious muscle, a street map of scars and a smattering of dark hairs—it feels weirdly improper to stare at him, so Jesper’s eyes dance down to his knobbly left knee and the softly twisted right thigh with its knots of scars, up to the face where he’s biting his harsh pretty mouth, and down again. His dick is nice, fat but not too long, rooted in a tangle of dark curls.

It’s utterly limp.

It’s pathetic, how much that hurts. Of course he isn’t into this. Of course he doesn’t find Jesper remotely attractive. Of course this is just some weird masochistic proxy powerplay for him, some attempt to prove he’s stronger now and can bear it or whatever the fuck, and Jesper’s just the sad stupid body he’s using to enact it.

And of course not even that is enough to make Jesper bow out. Kaz asked.

“Do you want me to suck you off first? Get you in the mood, even a little?” It’s not just for Kaz, that offer, though the whole thing will probably be less painful and awkward if he manages to coax out some arousal. It’s not for younger Jesper, who fantasized about being ordered to blow his boss as penance more often than he likes to admit. No, this is so Jesper can bury his face in Kaz’ pubic hair for a minute. And cry.

Kaz raises an eyebrow. He sounds arch and ice cold when he asks, “Jesper, do you think the Darkling would suck my dick?”

“He should have. Saints, what an asshole,” Jesper shoots back before he can think. “You need a better class of lovers.”

“By which you’re of course implying that you are much better than Aleksander Morozova, the General Kirigan, the Black Heretic, eternal Conqueror and crowned Emperor of Greater Ravka, Salvation to Grishadom, Master of the Fold and He who chained the Sun, et cetera and so fucking on and so fucking forth the Darkling himself?”

“Given I just offered you a blowjob without bringing useless power shit into it, yes.”

“Wrong data, incoherent formula. Correct answer.” Kaz’ grin is crooked. Inordinately fond, and Jesper would have settled for no longer desperately hiding terror but this is—

Yeah.

“I’m going to try to make this roleplay as realistic as I can, but I don’t know if I can forget enough about how to have sex to sink to the Darkling’s level. Also, you don’t happen to have the address of that Grisha Tailor who mutilated you back there? I need them to make my dick look weird. Corkscrew, maybe. Some warts. It’s probably green. I’d peg him for advanced neurological syphilis but I am about to sleep with you, so— ”

“Did you know, Jesper, that the Darkling always wears a gag when he has sex?”

“Shutting up now, boss.”

“Don’t shut up,” Kaz replies instantly. Very, very instantly. “Just keep your disparagements somewhat plausible. And… rare.”

Only to jolt me back, he’s asking. “Got it. So I guess I’m supposed to loom over you a little? How close do you want me?”

“I’ll need to—” Kaz turns around and bends over to root around in the pockets of his coat, and it’s even weirder, worse, looking at his ass when Jesper knows Kaz doesn’t like him back. Kaz tosses over a tiny bottle. Oil. “Give that to me. Tell me to prepare myself.”

“Just saying it once more, boss. You don’t have to go through with—”

“Stop thinking about the Kaz Brekker you know,” Kaz hisses. “Stop anticipating my reactions. Stop caring. You are the Darkling. You have been waiting for the Sun Summoner for decades. You’ve formed your picture of them. This delinquent flinching little rat you bought doesn’t quite fit, not his limp, not his fear of touch, not his pathetic need to assert himself, but, well… you have time. He’ll learn how to make himself fit into the space you provide him. He’ll become your Sun Summoner.”

“Have I told you yet that I’m going to kill that piece of shit?”

“You’ve mentioned it, once or twice. In the last hour.”

Jesper bares his teeth: a grin, but not. A promise. “Good. I’ll hold his mouth open while you stuff him full of black powder and set him on fire.”

“Stop stalling, Jesper. That won’t make it any easier.”

That won’t make it not have happened.

“If you’re sure this will help.”

Kaz nods.

“Lie down on the bed, then. Is there a—no, no pillows here, roll up the coat and slide it under your hips.” Jesper turns his face away, listening to the timid, stuttering squelches of Kaz stretching his asshole. Jesper doesn’t know what would be worse: if, after everything, he can’t get it up… or if he can.

Well. He’ll have to. His dick will just have to obey the dictates of the situation, just as Kaz’ body was made into the Sun Summoner. He’s young. He’s still looking at Kaz Brekker, Dirtyhands, naked, who asked Jesper to sleep with him, and that’ll have to be enough. They’ve gotten this far. They’ll force their way through. That’s how you do it. That’s how you gamble. How you lose big. Kaz might have once tried to explain to him something about sunk costs and throwing good money after bad, but Jesper ignored him that night and lost a hundred and twenty kruge to Specht, and he’s never looked back.

“Okay, Mr Sunshine. Let’s consummate our fucking partnership,” he grinds out when Kaz has gone quiet, takes the bottle to slick up his own uncooperative dick, and carefully, he climbs on top of Kaz. The clothes were a good decision: Kaz barely flinches when he kneels in-between his legs and pulls the sleeve over his hand to carefully guide his right knee to rest on Jesper’s thigh.

Kaz is staring up at his face, breathing, just breathing. The antlers in his collarbone frame his bright face—brighter than the candles should allow, like maybe—and his focus is rigid and he’s breathing, breathing quickly—

“Is this teaching you anything yet?”

“Not really,” Kaz rasps, after too long. “Or—I think—maybe it was—” he glances at Jesper’s pathetic, unhappy limp dick. His face twists. “I thought you were into me.”

This is— “I love you. Kaz Brekker, whoever you are. I don’t give a fuck about this Sun Summoner bullshit. I love you. I love you,” because this is—Jesper can’t do this. He can’t. His elbows are locked: he can’t drop his body any lower. He can't go lower than this. “I love you,” until it’s finally over. “I love you. I love you.”

☼

“And I’m telling you again, I don’t know what he does Tuesday evenings,” Jesper hisses.

“You were still with the Dregs, three months ago!” Kaz is wiping his cane clean. It didn’t even really get dirty—they mostly used kitchen knives to do the deed, and in the case of a maidservant who unwisely came to work in the middle of the night, a bullet that Jesper’s already collected and reshaped into something functional, because he might not get to buy new ones. Desperation. Frugality. The Kerch are rubbing off on him. It’s good, though. The fact he’s cleaning the wood is all the confirmation Jesper will likely ever get that Kaz does like the new cane Jesper made him from a cute straight rowan sapling, reinforced with the metal scavenged from all but the most essential buttons on their hodgepodge of clothes. At least there’s one thing of Jesper’s he values. “How can you not know the behavioural patterns of your boss? Are you that brainless?”

“No-one knew what he was up to! He barely came by the Slat. He wasn’t that interested in us.”

“You worked for Per Haskell, Jesper; you worked for that man for years—for nearly as many as I did, when you ran off to Ravka—and now you attempt to convince me you barely know his name?” Kaz still doesn’t look quite as harsh as he used to, or maybe that’s just Jesper hankering for their past. Well, he didn’t used to explain his plans to Jesper as if he was an imbecile—but then, he didn’t used to need Jesper. He had more stooges back then. Now, he only has one. Ally. Friend.

If it’s as weird for him, though, as it is for Jesper being back in Ketterdam after he didn’t die on his revenge suicide plot and the city didn’t, either—well, he might still get murdered for stealing the Sun Summoner or skipping out on debts or something completely unrelated, and Ketterdam’s… well, she’s weathering having her ruling class torn apart twice in short order, once by the Darkling’s conquest and now, by the slow collapse of the Darkling’s overstretched realm after he’s lost his saint/weapon/doll.

The Barrel’s fine—as glary and miserable as it ever was, anyway, but though Kaz would probably insist most of the Mercher’s Council had their hands in gang business one way or the other, their reach was indirect, mediated and secretive enough for the chaos tearing up the Geldstraat not to trickle down as quickly into the slums. And anyway, the involvement of the merchers only ever made life worse for most people. The plight of the rich can only be a blessing.

Right now, they’re inside a nice place in the Zelver district. Close enough to power to feel the death throes, and even disregarding the political manoeuvring and debris and panic everywhere, just looking at the house from the outside made Kaz twitchy, somehow.

His energy almost matched Jesper’s trigger finger.

It’s Haskell’s house, so that unease makes sense.

Haskell’s expensive secret new house far outside the Barrel that they’re despoiling now. They looked as out of place in the beautiful Zelver district as any Barrel rats, with their heads shorn close to the bone so they’ll look different enough to not get recognized and faces wiped with dirt, dressed in a melange of Ravkan clothes they haven’t found a chance to replace yet and tawdry Barrel flash for everything else.

Kaz was wearing two coats when he entered the house, an old rose and amber paisley trench that even Jesper admitted is hideous, though now it’s splattered with blood that actually really ties the colour scheme together. Still gross though, and luckily slung over the chair. Along with the purple kefta Kaz hid underneath, the one he still hasn’t given back. Or burned, which is what they did to the other Ravkan overcoats. On the streets his two coats bulked up his frame so much he looked like a kid that Jesper’s never met, dressed up to play a gangster’s role. He looked nothing like the Sun Summoner anymore, and only somewhat like Jesper’s imagined baby Dirtyhands crawling out straight from the harbour, fifty kilos sopping wet and ready to kill a man and feast on his entrails.

Now, he’s stripped down to a ruffled red shirt over a green undershirt—he conspicuously shunned the yellow one next to it on the washing line—and light blue pinstripe trousers. The shirt is a little large in the shoulders, and he’s cuffed the trousers. They stole everything from a cottage on the edge of Ketterdam. Not quite Barrel flash, but almost—alike in style but with better fabric, something a town edge kid probably bought to look like a cool gangster. Or something Jesper would have bought to look special for a very special date. If he squints, he can almost imagine—it’s the morning after, and—

Ever since the Little Palace the idea of Kaz naked has totally lost its lustre. The idea of his muscular but scrawny, scarred chest, his wiry tattooed arms, his ambiguously demonic hands—it’s all overlaid now with a flimsy ugly sleeveless yellow paper taffeta gown. With normal hands, kept bare as humiliation.

But maybe—maybe they sat together, not on a log in a forest but on a sofa this time, and then in the morning Kaz was cold and he stole all of Jesper’s clothes to wear over his own. That’s much better. (Maybe he just wanted Jesper naked all day���)

Jesper won’t let the Darkling steal his fantasies, too. They’re—

Ouch. Fucking ouch.

Jesper really shouldn’t have added tiny spiky worms to the side of the cane, but Kaz’ indignation was just too funny.

“Let me make this clear—” Kaz rasps, once he’s regained Jesper’s full attention. Half-full. ‘Like he’s plundered Jesper’s wardrobe’ is still such a good look on him. “We are both hunted. Neither of us can afford to be caught outside on the streets of Ketterdam and let whoever saw us live. If we’re going to make Haskell’s house our temporary base of operations, we need to make his death as inconspicuous as possible. We cannot safely anticipate which of his visitors to eliminate and which to fool unless we know whether they, in turn, may be missed.”

“Well,” Jesper mutters. “Mitki might come by. If the neighbours don’t chase him off.”

Kaz raises a single, dirt-encrusted eyebrow.

“Mitki’s the newest lieutenant. Might have made it this—”

“Not Anika? I can understand why a flake like you didn’t rise in the Dregs ranks, but she—”

“Ambush. Dime Lions, five weeks after you disappeared.”

“Rotty?”

“Slit throat. Still no clue who did it.”

“Specht? Pim? Neeta? Big Bol?”

“Razorgulls, knife, last year. Bullet to the head, same day. Hellgate. Hellgate.”

“Muzzen? Ruk? Keeg?”

“Another ‘Gull stabbing, just before I left. Hellgate, again. Keeg just disappeared, though. Might still be alive somewhere over the True Sea, if he’s clever. Not that he was, he’s probably floating, poor sod.” Jesper shrugs. After a while, it just gets too much: the beginning of the Dregs’ end is seared into his brain, but there aren’t enough synapses for the tenth—or fiftieth—dead friend to hurt as much. “There’s a reason why I didn’t think twice about running when I lost those fifty thousand. Like I said, boss, it’s been a shitshow since you left. Haskell never wanted for new ones, since he got his kids fresh off the street, but he just stopped giving any shit whatsoever, and since you weren’t there to pick up the slack… well, I can see why he didn’t care, now.”

Jesper spares a bitter look for the mountain of kruge next to Haskell’s foot, the mountain he offered Kaz as soon as he saw him, long before Kaz even tried to hack off both his hands and feet with a dull meat cleaver. Long before Kaz had to settle for cutting down to the bone and then wrenching Haskell’s extremities from their sockets by sheer force of hatred, while Jesper puked into the kitchen sink. The mountain he’d never have amassed as the boss of a gang as shambolic as the last years of the Dregs.

The mountain that’s going to pay off Inej’s indenture tomorrow.

Haskell allowed her to rot there. It’s only fair he pays for her freedom with his life.

“Everyone we could use is gone. And you…” Kaz tips Jesper’s chin up with his cane. The world shimmies a little. “You, of all the old Dregs, survived.”

Jesper shrugs again. This is too much to confess to Kaz, of all cruel bastards, probably far too much, but—they’re sitting in the living room of Jesper’s former boss, the man who sold Kaz out to the Darkling and used the prize money to live in luxury, while letting his gang die on increasingly pointless ill-planned errands. The other end of the table is still flecked and puddled with slow-drying blood—not to mention the corpse, or corpse-pieces, laying there—but over here, they have a bottle of expensive whisky they found in a cabinet and they’re trading swigs from the bottle, all bitter and clean.

“I didn’t take it too well, when you and Inej just disappeared, and then my friends kept dying. Might have gone on a couple of benders. Might have lost some games. Might have lost some fights. Might have had some sexual encounters with people who turned out to be massive creeps. Consequently, I may not have been technically around to be asked to go on some of these errands, or perhaps I just didn’t notice because I was drunk.”

“Jesper.” Kaz doesn’t even sound surprised. Wow. Thanks for having faith in me, boss.

It’s not really that humiliating, though, now he’s said it out loud. He spent two years making bad decisions and occasionally braiding Inej’s hair. Kaz spent that time getting turned into a doll. Who can say what’s worse? He takes another deep gulp and grins. “You know me, boss. I need some external structure in life. I really need a commandeering asshole dragging me into his schemes to be my best self.”

“And yet, you outwitted the Darkling.”

“That wasn’t difficult, to be fair. Tell them I’m Grisha, search the Little Palace, shoot Kaz Brekker in the head, get executed…” Jesper trails off. When the silence grows teeth, he takes a pull of whisky that’s so desperate it makes him cough, but Kaz is still letting him stew.

They don’t really need to talk about it, though. No value in going over what happened in the Little Palace. No value in discussing anything. Everything is fine now. Yes, Jesper did want to kill Kaz. Yes, he’ll die for Kaz.

And they both know why.

Kaz steals the bottle. It’s incredible, actually, Jesper was just holding it—well, maybe he’s a little more drunk than he thought, but Kaz would probably like being complimented on his pickpocketing. “I didn’t even see you steal that bottle,” Jesper says.

“I’d be angry you’re drunk,” Kaz rasps. “But you’ve been completely useless at all stages of the current plan so far. And the previous one, by your planning—I always forget, in my amazement at what you accomplished, that you failed.”

He says that, but his cheeks are flushed pink with alcohol. His pupils are wide when he looks at Jesper. He raises the bottle to his lips and tips his head back, swallowing what should have easily been ten more swigs of whisky. Thieving bastard.

☼

When Jesper awakes on Haskell’s second softest chaise longue in the receiving room—neither of them was particularly eager to climb into Haskell’s bed, and, in Jesper’s case, not particularly still able to walk up the stairs either—his mouth is dry, his bladder full and the light is poking his brain even through closed curtains and eyelids. And Kaz—he searches the whole house after finishing his business, but yes, it’s true—Kaz is gone.

So are his cane and his current Barrel flash coat and the kefta, which means Kaz is probably safe. Well. As safe as the escaped Sun Summoner can be. Not kidnapped, at least. More alive than anyone stupid enough to cross Kaz’ path.

He’s taken Haskell’s kruge, and left a note.

In Kaz’ sharp hand, the note reads, “STAY.”

It’s underlined three times, and on the back side Kaz has written, “or you will die,” which to be fair is pretty ambiguous.

‘Die’ as in, ‘I mistrust your competence and assume you’ll get yourself killed if you move a finger?’ Or as in, ‘I’m warning you I won’t go out of my way to save you?’ Perhaps it’s a straightforward ‘Disobey and I am going to personally murder you and piss on your corpse?’ All are very real possibilities, knowing Kaz.

To really understand the message, Jesper needs to get into Kaz’ mood when he woke up—hungover, but how much? Enough he hates the entire world, or so much he hates Jesper more? Also, his current way of thinking. Jesper’s usefulness. A point in favour is the fact that Jesper saved him from a fate worse than death, but on the other hand, Jesper forgot to extract a deal from him and Kaz is so Kerch it hurts, which means he’s pared down solidarity and reciprocity and love into exchange, into deals, and all Jesper’s offering are the first three. They shared a bottle of whisky next to the corpse of their old boss, though, and in general Kaz looked like he was having fun more than once on their dirty, miserable long trek out of Ravka. Way more fun than he had in the majestic Little Palace. Also, Jesper’s incredibly likeable. He’s beautiful and funny and stupidly in love with Kaz without asking anything in return, so really it only makes sense that Kaz has finally succumbed to his charm.

(He dug his hand into Jesper’s hair, that night on the fallen tree and twice afterwards, but—maybe that was only to make Jesper squirm.)

Well, he enjoyed Jesper’s company while they fled from Ravka to Ketterdam, at least. That’s the crux of it.

So why would Kaz anticipate that Jesper might want to run anywhere? There’s a well-stocked kitchen here. A far more sensible assumption would be that Jesper might want to make some waffles or go on a morning jog. No, not that one. Enjoy a lavish breakfast. Have a bath, perhaps, after spending two weeks crawling through the Ravkan forest and the Shu countryside and stowed in the belly of a wine cargo ship and then countryside again, this time Kerch. Jesper’s feet hurt just thinking about it, and that Kaz managed to get here, even at the half-speed they settled on, speaks to—well, the same bull-headed masochism as always, but the fact he still refused to even consider stealing a cart or horse or approach any larger settlement before Ketterdam means he must be even more terrified of the Darkling than Jesper can imagine. He refused to leave any trace whatsoever. (And yet he’s back in Ketterdam, the one city in the world he was connected to before the Little Palace, because…?)

Ketterdam is the only city, village, collection of buildings and people they’ve been to for weeks, which means it’s the first chance Jesper has to gamble, but—even he knows not to stake anything on the possibility there’s someone left in the Barrel who doesn’t know about Jesper Fahey, he who owes Pekka Rollins fifty thousand kruge and just skipped town, kill immediately with extreme prejudice.

Well, Rollins is dead now—the only gang boss courageous or aggrieved or hungry enough to try and covertly resist the Darkling, go figure—but whoever’s head Lion now probably won’t even let Jesper try to spin an argument about how he really owes that money to ‘Pekka Rollins’ Dime Lions’, not any successor organizations. No such luck, and anyway, people stupid enough to bounce on their debts are fair game to any gang in the Barrel. They don’t cooperate on much, not even for mutual benefit, but murdering dishonest gamblers? That’s a team sport.

Jesper’s last recklessly suicidal plan worked out fantastic, so maybe he should find a card table. His luck’s turned. He could win millions.

Which Kaz definitely would anticipate, and warn him away from. Kaz is a buzzkill. Just because Jesper’s going to get murdered on sight in the Barrel…

Because Jesper’s gonna get murdered on sight in the Barrel.

If Kaz wants to rebuild his status in the Barrel, there’s no bigger liability than Jesper. And Kaz wants to, surely. He worked his way up inside the Dregs carefully and diligently, spent more time than anyone sane would inside a tiny attic office adding up numbers, and sucked up to an utter piece of shit like Haskell, just so he could one day become a Barrel boss. And now, to rise again, he has to cut off the dead weight.

Which means Jesper.

That’s why he left.

It’s not even a betrayal. They don’t have an agreement for life after reaching Ketterdam, let alone one that says Jesper can follow him forever and ever just like in the good old days. Inej—but Inej’s actually useful to a new Barrel boss, as soon as her indenture’s paid. Jesper’s the weak link here. Jesper’s screwed.

Which doesn’t mean he won’t go down fighting. He knows the way to the Menagerie—the quickest way, the scenic route, the paths least commonly trafficked by Pigeons and the ones usually avoided by staadwatch or gangsters. He knows Kaz well enough to guess which one he’s taken. If he hasn’t woken too late—and by the sun’s position, it’s still early in the morning—then he has a chance to pass Kaz off and… insult him? Beg? Cry? Sell his father’s soul for a position in the new Dregs? Maybe he’ll just have to wear a Komedie Brute mask for the rest of his life and it’ll be fine. He’ll figure it out later.

Jesper draws his shoulders up to his ears while he scurries through empty alleyways, the collar of his fancy pseudo-Barrel flash coat turned up. He’s almost glad that Kaz made him go hatless and shaved bald—thoroughly unstylish and un-Jesper enough he might survive the morning—but there are drawbacks to the disguise in the damp chill.

Also, the disguise isn’t good enough. After some minutes, Jesper notices that some clusters of metal stay at roughly the same distance to him. Eight clusters of—round, small, definitely mostly kruge with a few Ravkan coins thrown in. Thirteen guns. A rifle. Two of the coin clusters are fairly close together and move in unison. Jesper’s dealing with seven shadows, then.

That’s—a lot.

Jesper’s had a little more training being a Durast now, but what he could really use now is combat training. He hasn’t even been in a battle in over a month, unless you count handing Kaz knives while he carves up Per Haskell, and since Jesper had to puke right after, you probably shouldn’t. He’s fought rabbits. Jesper’s sure fought some rabbits in Ravka. Two deer, too.

He could probably escape his pursuers. It would take time, though, time Jesper doesn’t have when Kaz is leaving him behind without a word. He’ll just have to kill them quickly.

At least there’s one of his favourite surveillance detection routes nearby. One of the rare aboveground tunnels in Ketterdam, not used by Pigeons for obvious reasons of creepiness and also because it just leads to a big courtyard behind a factory: a courtyard that’s easy to escape, when you know the gate’s lock is broken. Kaz showed it to him, just weeks after Jesper got recruited, after the second time the ‘Gulls got the drop on him and beat him to a pulp. In the courtyard, he made Jesper shoot some sparrows and some pigeons to prove his worth. Not crows, though, and for a year Jesper believed that detail was just thrown in to test whether Jesper would obey nonsensical orders. It’s still a plausible explanation.

He’ll just have to ask Kaz, after he begs him for a role in the new Dregs. After he kills these seven pursuers.

If.

He catches the first man off-guard and blows his head off when he exits the tunnel, but after that, it’s a stand-off. Jesper, hiding behind a massive wood barrel for cover, against six men ducked into the mouth of the tunnel.

Jesper manages to pick off another man by firing into the tunnel and blindly redirecting the bullet into the first nook, but the second attempt at using that trick doesn’t hit anything, and neither does the third. He has eight bullets left now, and five enemies. Even Jesper can tell that’s bad odds.

Retreating across the courtyard, though—the first few meters are fine, there are enough wine barrels and he can just dash from one to another, slightly nudging bullets off their course so none hit him.

Those guys have far too many bullets left, though, by the time Jesper’s forty meters away from the gate. Forty meters without cover. His pursuers aren’t bad shots either—likely Dime Lions, because there’s no way a Liddy would ever get so close that Jesper has to redirect their bullet—and they’re cautious enough that only two of them are crouched behind that barrel next to the tunnel, now, while the rest are still hidden inside.

This might get a little tough—but if Jesper starts manipulating bullets more obviously, will that information travel to the Little Palace? They know the Sun Summoner escaped with a Fabrikator. Is he painting a target on Kaz’ back?

Is he—

Bloodcurdling screams and groans, and Jesper’s too far away to hear any thwacks but his senses have expanded and he knows that metal coating intimately. Knows that cane.

Kaz emerges from the tunnel opening, Inej behind him, and—

Boom.

The Dime Lion’s shot him.

Right in the chest, and Kaz stumbles, falls to his knees.

Keels over.

Jesper shoots wildly while he runs over, whirling the bullets around the barrel that the Dime Lions are hiding behind—two left, Kaz wouldn’t have let any of the ones in the tunnel escape—desperate to hit something or at least keep them distracted and scared long enough to get there, or for—Inej’s pulling Kaz back by his coat, and she’s still wearing a sheer Menagerie dress, she probably doesn’t have any knives to protect—nothing’s hit yet, nothing’s hit, and all Jesper’s bullets are in the air whizzing around but he’s not hitting anything and Kaz is down and Kaz—

Kaz pushes himself to his knees, and then he stands up.

He’s breathing hard, and in the ugly rose/amber/bloodstain trench there’s a hole above his heart, sooty and burnt, but he’s still alive, Kaz is alive, he’s—

“What are you?” a Dime Lion gasps. Jesper’s finally got a bead on her. He sinks three bullets into her head.

“I just killed…” The other one is less lucky, and Jesper only manages to hit his stomach before he runs out of airborne bullets. He’ll die, but it won’t be quick.

“I crawled out of the harbour before. I’ll do it again,” Kaz rasps, and before the Dime Lion manages more than “Dirty—” a wet squelch informs Jesper of his demise.

That’s all of them.

“Kaz, you—” Inej’s much quicker at Kaz’ side, but he moves away before she can touch him to check his injury. Moves quickly enough he’s probably not on death’s door. He is a good actor, though. She looks at Jesper, and he’s about to join her in begging Kaz to get some medical aid, at least, but then Kaz shrugs off the ruined trench coat.

“Those kefta aren’t entirely useless,” Kaz rasps, grinning like an amused fucking asshole who almost gave Jesper a heart attack.

And then, Inej wraps herself around Jesper.

“You’re alive! I was terrified,” she shouts against his chest, slapping his back and grabbing as if she can’t decide whether to kill Jesper or never let go. “I thought you got yourself killed! You just disappeared, no word, I thought—”

“I may have lost a game where the stake was fifty thousand kruge?”

“You—Jes—” Inej squeezes him harder. “I told you to stop. I’d rather have you, with me, than have you die trying to pay me off.”

“I almost won! But there was no chance I’d get out of it, without indenturing myself, and—it all worked out, didn’t it? You’re free! Which reminds me…” Jesper takes off his own coat—blue and green and purple wave patterns, very fancy, a bit on the small side for him—and lays it onto Inej’s shoulders. It suits her, too—it drowns her a little, sure, but the way the coat reaches down to her ankles looks regal, and anyway, Kaz is a good sewer. He’ll fix this. “Can’t have you catching a cold.”

Before she can reply—tell him again she wasn’t worth risking his life and freedom in every card game he could for two years, when she definitely is, she’s Inej, he’ll do anything for her—he runs away and searches the dead Dime Lions for a new coat for himself, all their money, the rifle, and picks up the used bullets too. Knowing Kaz, he’ll want them to leave this place soon, and Jesper can’t very well try to convince his boss he needs to keep his sharpshooter around when he has no bullets left.

Speaking of—Jesper saunters over to Kaz when he’s done. With his most careless grin, he says, “I want my goodbye kiss before you ditch me.”

“I left you a note,” Kaz rasps. “I should have remembered you can’t read.”

Which as good as counts as a promise that Kaz didn’t intend to leave him behind: that, and the adrenaline of an easy gunfight has Jesper grinning widely. This is the life he wanted. The life he yearned for during the last two miserable years. The Crows are back, baby. He asks, “What now, boss?”

“We leave. Before anyone comes to investigate those gunshots.”

“Novyi Zem?”

“No,” Kaz rasps, just as Inej says, “They’ll let us drown.”

“They what?”

“Move.” Kaz starts limping past the factory, and then doubles back one street over—in the general direction away from the sea. Jesper and Inej quickly flank him. “I went to the Fifth Harbour before I paid off Inej’s indenture. It’s near empty. Old man there said no boats go to Novyi Zem or Eames Chin right now, and no boats come back. Because nothing gets unloaded. Kerch ships can’t dock there. They all get stranded at sea.”

“People started running when Ravka cut us off from the continent,” Inej mutters. “Before the invasion. And now the Darkling’s gone, the Kerch Grisha are either running or dead.”

“Too many refugees, apparently. Something about culture and scroungers and economic migrants. Novya Zem’s closed its ports to Kerch.”

“But I’m Zemeni—”

“You’re just a person. Those borders don’t exist to help you. The harbour watch don’t exist for you, the government doesn’t exist for you—if there’s a choice between cementing their power and your life, every bureaucrat worth their salt will choose the former.”

Jesper wants to argue, but actually, he’d trust Kaz over Novyi Zem a million times. Kaz saved his life when Ketterdam and Kerch would have swallowed him whole. Novyi Zem isn’t any different. “So we’re stuck in Ketterdam, then, where I’ll get shot on sight and you’ll easily get tracked by the Darkling. I only remember one safehouse that’s still uncompromised, as of last month anyway, unless you think we should go back to Haskell’s, boss?”

“Inej,” Kaz rasps. “That shop over there. Buy us a cart. We’re going to Lij.”

“What’s in Lij, boss? Why Lij? Where is Lij, anyway?”

But Kaz doesn’t answer him. Even aboard the cart, directing their new donkey with a seemingly perfect grasp of the roads leading to a small southern Kerch town none of them have ever been to, he refuses to elaborate. He looks tense, though. Jesper reshapes his many new bullets while he walks alongside. If there’s a fight waiting for them in Lij, they’re going to win.

☼

Kaz paces the length of the room. Window, door, window, door—there’s not much space beside the marriage bed, and the air draft of his passing caresses Jesper’s shorn head.

He’s put back together now, dressed in his socks and his boots and his underpants and his trousers and his gloves, though his torso’s only covered by the open purple kefta. Despite the cane, he limps more heavily than before he trekked for weeks through the Ravkan forest. He’s not fully recovered yet, if he’ll ever be.

Jesper’s on the floor. He climbed off the bed—off Kaz, after he ruined Kaz’ stupid get proxy-raped by the proxy-Darkling again plan. He said what he said, and the silence that followed was all the answer he’ll get, and then he sat down on the floor. It’s as good a place to wait as any. Probably more hygienic than the bed, anyway. He watched Kaz dress, until he almost looked like the Barrel lieutenant they both wish he was still allowed to be, and now he’s watching Kaz Brekker Dirtyhands the Sun Summoner pace holes in the old dusty floor of an abandoned farmhouse an hour’s walk outside of the small Kerch town of Lij.

He’s not getting murdered, though. Not for what he almost did. Not for what he said. That’s as good as this was ever going to go.

“It was worse this time.” Kaz directs his rasp towards the floor. He doesn’t stop moving. “I froze. Why was it—it was you. I knew you were—you’d never—with you it should have been more tolerable. Not worse.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, boss.” Jesper still can’t decide whether he should be ashamed that he was too squeamish to go through with it. Kaz doesn’t seem as angry as he could be, that Jesper totally fucked up this whatever-it-was-supposed-to-be. Not the mocking disappointment he doles out at Jesper’s predictable failures—gambling, distractibility, lateness, no impulse control and so on—and not the seething hatred when Jesper does something he hasn’t anticipated.

“I turned it over and over in my mind. For a year. What I did wrong. How I could have turned this to my advantage. How to excise this weakness. I thought I’d found—but there’s nothing.”

Jesper would offer to brutally desecrate the Darkling’s corpse again, but it clearly doesn’t help. Kaz won’t let this go. Never mind that he was a teenage thief imprisoned in a palace. Never mind it was him against the whole entourage of the most powerful Grisha. The man who crowned himself Emperor.

Sometimes you’re just fucked. And there’s nothing you can do. Life isn’t fair.

“There is a way to beat him,” Kaz hisses. “And I will find it.”

“You did. Sort of.”

“What—”

Jesper grins a shark-grin. “You’re not in Ravka now, are you?”

“That doesn’t count.”

“Why doesn’t it? No, boss, listen—he didn’t beat you alone, either, right? He had his Tailor making you into a doll. His Fabrikators locking your cage. His soldiers. Hell, Haskell selling you out—so really, it’s your victory that I found you.” Now that Jesper’s trying to explain his gut reaction, it just seems more and more logical. “Why can’t you have your own gang? You practically rescued yourself. You took a look at a boy who’d have gotten shot in a few weeks because he couldn’t pay is debts and he couldn’t stop fucking gambling—you had me dragged up to your office. You took that chance. You saved my life so I could save yours. That’s… planning ahead. Planning years ahead. Well done.”

Kaz finally, finally stops pacing. He sinks into the mattress just slightly to the right of Jesper, so he can sprawl out his legs without making contact. He looks at Jesper, but he’s silent, and his face isn��t giving anything away.

At first, that makes it feel like he’s actually listening. Actually considering what Jesper told him, and agreeing. Kaz is a quick thinker, though. He doesn’t need this long to realize that Jesper’s correct, which means he’s coming up with counterarguments—arguments why actually, he’s still weak or whatever and needs to force himself—and Jesper really, really can’t watch him do this to himself again. Why this, anyway? Why is this the weakness he fixated on?

“Why is that creep so obsessed with making you touch people, anyway?”

“Because it’s easy. Necessary. Even a child does it. Touch is what makes us human, and the Sun Summoner is human, whatever lies he tells himself,” Kaz recites. His eyes are bright. Wet.

“Bullshit. You terrorized the Barrel for years and it didn’t matter at all that you never touched anyone. It was just you. It didn’t even really sink in for me, that you don’t touch people, until I saw the way he dressed you up, how miserable you were.” That’s probably a good place to leave it, but Jesper’s livid. Jesper could mince and mangle fifty Darklings with the pure force of his loathing, and there’s not even a single one around here. That energy has to go somewhere. “You’re trying to tell me the Ravkan fucking palace couldn’t change protocol a little and adapt? If it never mattered in the Barrel, it never mattered at all. He just picked something. If you’d been allergic to shellfish, that’s the only food he would have served you, and he would have said you’re weak for your windpipe swelling up. He wasn’t able control you because touch made you weak. When you’re in control, it doesn’t matter. Because you fucking kill whoever touches you. You don’t bow to them. They bow to you.”

Kaz doesn’t reply. He doesn’t look away from Jesper, though. He just stares down at him, with his eyes still wide and still wet. He mutters, “You’ve turned quite opinionated in my absence, Jesper.”

“In your presence. I’m quoting your words back to you—sort of, it was about the cane, and I’ve forgotten half of it. But you were right. You were always right.” Jesper laughs. “See? Now you’re teaching yourself through time and space! Your masterplan is incredibly fucking elaborate!”

“My—I’m not falling for it.” Kaz is grinning, though. “If I agree now—by this time tomorrow you’ll have done something incredibly stupid and you’ll throw the whole Everything I do is your triumph because you saved me thing in my face. I’m not responsible for your awful jokes!”

Pretending to wipe tears from his eyes, Jesper wails, “My plan! My ingenious plan! Foiled by the dastardly Dirtyhands, oh no!”

Kaz laughs at him. Kaz laughs, and laughs, and Jesper joins him.

It takes a while before Kaz stops, gasping for breath. No-one in Ravka’s ever told a good joke, Jesper decides, because he’s made way funnier jokes before that Kaz didn’t even chuckle at, but gift horses and mouths and so on. Colour’s returned to Kaz’ face: his cheeks are blotchy and red, even after his breathing’s evened out. Kaz mumbles, “You know, that’s exactly how I imagined it.”

What? Oh. Jesper’s sprawled on the floor, leaning back on his elbows, his shirt pulled out of his trousers—his trousers, which are open, and he still hasn’t tucked away his dick. He forgot. There were more far important things to do, and now… well, he probably looks more debauched than Kaz in his purple kefta, with just his prick exposed to the chilly night-time Kerch air while he lounges on the ground. He ghosts a finger over it.

“Do you want me to—do you want to watch, boss?”

“I’d—” Kaz swallows. “Saints.”

Jesper turns a little, so Kaz can get a better view. He doesn’t undress, in case that’s an integral part of the fantasy, just gently trails his fingers down his still-limp dick—though it’s definitely waking up now—and looks up at Kaz.

Kaz doesn’t meet his eyes anymore, but that’s fine: more than fine, when he’s alternately looking at Jesper’s cock and at Jesper’s lips. Jesper darts out his tongue, and Kaz’ pupils blow even wider. Jesper licks down his palm and starts jerking off in earnest. “Hey, boss,” Jesper mutters, and when the head jerks up Jesper blows him a tiny kiss.

“What do you think about?” Kaz rasps.

“I just look at you. That’s enough. I like your face.” The tiny quirk of his lips, the way his eyes dart back down. “What are you thinking about, boss?”

“I didn’t expect you to enjoy this as much.”

“Seriously, boss, I know you’re not that stupid. How many times—”

“Not me,” Kaz mumbles. He gestures obscurely at the room. Jesper. The wall. The floor. The floor again. “This. It’s—not proper. Demeaning.”

“I wasn’t feeling demeaned until you started talking—”

“I was going to make you my right hand, once I took over the Dregs. Not my whore—”

“You were?” slips out, small and breathless, before Jesper remembers that this is for Kaz. This for him to enjoy. The warmth expanding in Jesper’s ribcage can wait. “There’s nothing bad about this. You like it. I like it. I don’t see anyone else in this room, and even if—a very clever guy once told me that you don’t bow to the world. You make the world bow to you.”

☼

It’s scratching that wakes Jesper. Scratching like the sharpening of a knife, quick, impatient, desperate—but it’s Kaz who’s on watch right now, Kaz who found this shallow cave they’re spending the night in, and Kaz wouldn’t let any danger come this close unnoticed. Unfought. Kaz wouldn’t just leave Jesper to his fate—would he?

He wouldn’t. At least not yet.

Kaz is sitting at the mouth of the cave. The moon drenches his matted dirty hair in its white glory, his handmade trousers, his naked wiry chest. His chest which he hasn’t bared for a second since Jesper gave him the kefta, even pulling off the Sun Summoner chemise that they tore into threads while still wrapped up in both of his coats: but now he’s half-naked, head bending down to look at those tines sticking out of his clavicle. Those antlers, those keratinized tumours, those bone cancers. Whatever those mutations are, he wants them gone.

In the right hand, he’s holding the knife that Jesper made from buttons so they could cut the blanket into trouser-shapes. In the left hand, he’s holding one of the protrusions growing from his body.

And then, he starts hacking again.

Viciously, helplessly, like a sick rabbit mutated into its own trap. He misses, once, and the knife sinks into his collarbone: but silently he tears it out again and cuts at the cancerous bone, and the knife’s sharp but the only dents that Jesper can see are tiny, glowing, lighting up the knife that’s flecked with his own blood.

☼

Jesper stirs the potato chunks. Thankfully, the old hearth still works, at least after he and Inej fed it with firewood they brought from the market, and so he’s cooking potatoes in butter and water. He mashes them up with some heavy wooden implement he found in a cabinet, once they’re soft enough—he washed it of course; he doesn’t want to eat moth shit—and then Inej passes him a wooden board of carrots in neat small identical pieces. Show-off. Jesper loves her so fucking much.

“Careful, don’t let it burn,” she says, twirling her knife, and Jesper—well, he meant to stir the pot of what’s apparently becoming stamppot. He did. He didn’t mean to think of how he’ll get Inej and Kaz out of Ravka—

And that’s when Kaz limps into the kitchen. He wasn’t still asleep when Inej and Jesper went into town to get some food—as if the Bastard of the Barrel ever sleeps in, even when he’s far from his titular Barrel—but he begged off the trip. He told them to say they’re working for Johannus Rietveld, if they’re asked, who’s apparently inherited this farm, but—they weren’t asked a thing, anyway, and who knows what Kaz did in the meantime. Who knows what weird cover identity he’s cooked up that they haven’t yet had to invoke. And whether it’s weirder than the one Jesper just created.

Jesper gives him a tender little smile. “Had a good morning?”

“No.”

“Because of last—”

But Kaz can read Jesper at least as well as he can read himself. “Don’t flatter yourself,” he rasps. “You’re the least terrifying person I’ve ever met.” Which probably means Yes, I’m rattled, but I won’t take it out on you. Too much.

“Thanks, darling.” And obeying Inej’s sharp elbow, he goes back to stirring the potato mash, and the slices of rookworst smoked sausage she’s dumped into another pan as well. “We decided Inej needs a proper homecooked meal, now she’s free, and we both haven’t eaten anything worth eating for ages, either.”

“You cook?”

“I grew up with my Da. It was either him or me. We traded off, if you want to know, and I’m pretty good apart from when it mysteriously turns into charcoal. And we didn’t find any Zemeni spices in the Lij market—this isn’t Ketterdam, and this old trader I talked to, she said it’s because maritime traffic to Novyi Zem is down to trickles at this point there’s a real dearth of spices, she couldn’t get them at any reasonable price—”

“Don’t burn the stamppot,” Inej orders.

“Anyway, we found a recipe tacked to the wall behind the oven, so that’s what I’m making now. Something super Kerch. Stamppot—you’ve ever eaten it?”

Kaz makes a sound that’s deeply indecipherable. Jesper can’t even tell whether it’s mournful or happy.

“Anyway, we’re almost done. Spinach now, please—Inej made me stick to the recipe, you know—and then the fried sausage and some salt and… you’ll stay with us for lunch, right, even if it isn’t royal Little Palace fare?”

“We ate unseasoned burnt rabbits in the forest,” Kaz replies curtly. He’s gotten over whatever strange emotion took hold of him, then.

“Yeowtch, they were awful. Why didn’t you remind me to take them off the fire. I know how to smuggle us into Novyi Zem,” Jesper says, carrying the deep pot over to their chosen clean bit of floor. Next to the windowsill, so Kaz can sit down with a little less discomfort—the house has been cleaned out apart from the marriage bed, really, and making Kaz go in there now… Making Inej go in there now, when it’s where last night he and Kaz had sex… And it’s not like they were loud, but who knows what Inej read into them pacing around each other for an hour. This is much less awkward. Besides, Jesper’s recently had some great experiences with floors.

Inej doesn’t stop playing with her knife, even after she balances her stamppot served on woodboard on her knees and digs in with her slightly bent spoon. She hasn’t set it down all morning, even carried it into town when they went looking for something to eat, and while she’s been supervising Jesper’s cooking—making sure he’s reading the recipe, keeping him on-track, bickering with him over unclear or illegible instructions—she’s been twirling it around her fingers. A truly remarkable feat, given that it’s the piece of shit knife that Jesper cobbled together from coat buttons, and he didn’t know what he was doing at all except that it should probably be sharp. Inej really needs to talk him through the finer points of balance if she wants him to overhaul the thing.

“They’re not letting in any more refugees from Kerch, you said,” Jesper starts setting up the explanation for his ingenious plan, while he passes over Kaz’ portion and another spoon he dug out from the bottom of a cabinet and small-scienced back into shape.

“The rich Kerch started running first, when the Darkling advanced. Anyone who’d ever had a Grisha indenture… They probably got in. They had the money. As for the rest… well, we’ve all heard of what happened in Fjerda, unless we’re Jesper and too busy drinking and playing Makker’s Wheel—”

“Hey! I was trying to pay off your indenture,” Jesper complains, while nibbling on his surprisingly decent if underspiced potato mash. “I’m Zemeni. They’ll let me in.”

Kaz still hasn’t touched his food. He hasn’t put it away either though, hand cradling the board instead of throwing it at Jesper. Maybe it’s because he’s too curious about the plan. Jesper should have waited, but he was too excited, and now Kaz is frowning as he replies, “So you keep saying. How does that help us? I assume you wouldn’t leave the two of us behind, after all that trouble you took.”

It feels good, to hear him say that. Almost good enough to forgive that Kaz doesn’t like his lunch. “That’s where my plan comes in. I’ve finally figured it out. If we’re married—”

“We can’t marry each other,” Kaz rasps. Before Jesper gets too sad about that, he continues, “In case you haven’t yet learned to count, we’re three people now.”

“I know. That’s why I’ve been thinking it over for so long. But divorce exists, you know so I was thinking that our story should be—and I’ll write to Da, but I thought you should probably agree first—I married one of you and then fell in love with the other but I still loved both, so I was trying to—”

Inej coughs. Laughs. Yeah, she’s definitely laughing at him, and then she says, “You’re going to tell your father about your marriage in a letter—your multiple marriages, because not only did you get married without inviting him, you already traded in your wife for a younger, prettier model. You lothario!”

“If you think that Kaz—actually, are you younger than Inej?”

Kaz, spoon in mouth, glares down at him.

“I’m trying to save our lives here. I’d appreciate some cooperation! And Da will forgive me, when he sees how happy I am with my new bonebreaking gangster wife and my old knife-twirling gangster wife who I had to divorce for petty bureaucratic reasons. Do you like it?”

Another spoonful of stamppot disappears into Kaz’ mouth. His eyes are closed while he chews, and then he looks away. His voice is hoarser than normal when he mumbles, “It tastes exactly the way I—it’s good.”

“Better than unseasoned rabbit charcoal. Anyway, it might throw the Darkling off our scent some more, if we disguise Kaz as a woman—and don’t be sexist. Women come in all shapes and sizes, no-one’s going to suspect a thing. Also we’re from Ketterdam. If any woman like Kaz can marry anywhere, it’s here. It’ll be a scandal, if they refuse to honour our marriage. Letting a few poors drown outside Zemeni borders, sure, but breaking the mutual recognition of administrative documents?”

Jesper is actually pretty proud of his reasoning here. That makes it even more annoying when Kaz rasps, “No-one will ever believe I’m your wife. I can’t even touch you.”

“No-one’s going to believe I love you? Are you sure?” Jesper flutters his eyes up at Kaz.

“He has a point, Jesper. You won’t be the first desperate refugee forging a marriage to leave.” Inej twirls her knife again. “You’ll need to act the part.”

“We’ll just tell them the truth.”

“Which is?”

“You don’t want to be touched, and if they have a follow-up question, they’d better direct it to the barrel of my gun. I’m not letting anybody non-consensually grope my beloved Kerch wife. Never again. Not over my dead body.”

“Won’t they think it’s weird if Kaz—sorry, your beautiful Kerch wife doesn’t let you touch him?”

“I don’t care. I told you. Let the world bow to us. I love my ingenious, vicious Kerch wife, completely independent of any physical contact we may or may not ever have. I respect my stubborn loyal deadpan Kerch wife far too much to cross those boundaries just for social custom. Also, my sweet murderous Kerch wife has a mean right hook.”

“Thankyou for the demonstration of your acting skills,” Kaz rasps drily, scratching his spoon on his serving board for the last flecks of stamppot. “We’re not going to Novyi Zem, though. There are more amplifiers than just the Stag he forced into me, and we’re going to find the rest. I’m going to tear apart every miserable molecule in the Darkling’s body, cell by fucking cell.”

“And you just let me keep talking?”

“It was entertaining.” Kaz licks his spoon, and then the board. Any second now, Jesper will tell him there’s more left in the pot. “Write your Da. We’ll keep your plan as a backup, in case everything goes horribly wrong. You’ll need a ring, though, to make it official,” and Kaz starts rooting through the kefta pockets.

Jesper can’t breathe. Is Kaz really…? He can’t breathe until he looks at Kaz’ stretched-out, gloved hand, and—

“How the fuck did you steal that one?! I was just wearing it!”

[spencers-renaissance]

Hear it in the Silence

Summary: A short, fluffy chronicle of Spencer realising in increments how in love with Derek he is, and navigating a real, beautifully sweet relationship that's not always smooth sailing, especially since he's been hurt before. (Based on Taylor Swift’s You are in Love.)

Tags: major fluff, angst, past abuse, hurt/comfort, fights, making up, falling in love, dev relationship 

Pairing: Morgan x Reid

Word Count: 3.7k

Read on AO3 (detailed cw in notes)

They’re careful to arrive separately but unsurprisingly, subtlety is not Derek’s strong suit. Spencer has a good poker face -- although logically he knows that a cheerful, passive expressive is the best actual poker face due to its non-threatening nature -- but Derek absolutely cannot get rid of the smug, pleased smile he’s wearing proudly. It’s a good thing Spencer looks as unsuspicious as possible because as soon as he enters the room, Emily’s teasing him about the hot date he clearly had last night. 

Derek might look smug but Spencer feels it: a soft swirl of satisfaction settling in his tummy, though he’s careful not to show it. He’s proud of himself for how smoothly the date went last night, much more comfortable than the first three, and he’s even happier that he can now call himself Derek Morgan’s boyfriend. He’d stayed the night for the first time last night and it couldn’t have been more special in Spencer’s eyes. 

He may not be grinning like Derek is, but he’s filled with a happy sort of warmth completely unmatched by any feeling that’s ever occupied his body before. It festers and grows and develops even throughout the gruesome briefing, even when discussing the profile of an enucleator, even when looking at crime scene photos. Pretty colours still ripple through his brain, comforting him with the promise of more, the promise of purpose beyond his day job.

The colours only intensify when they walk to the jet together with Emily and JJ, chatting about their weekends in vague as possible terms. They’re nearly at the door when Derek looks at him like he did last night: like he can’t quite believe what, who, he’s seeing, like Spencer’s everything he’ll ever need to be happy. If anyone caught it, they’d be found out immediately, but they don’t.

It’s a look meant just for him. 

He wants to bask in this moment for just a little longer, but they force themselves to pull their eyes away from one another and board the jet. At this point, he has no choice but to acknowledge that he will be working this case with his insides a messy, melted puddle of sentiment. And he’s not even mad about it.

⭐️

The insides of his eyelids don’t solely exist to serve their intended biological function anymore: they’re no longer just protection for his eyes but a cinema screen playing moments shared with Derek over and over again. Their first date, their first kiss, the first time Derek held him closely as he pushed slowly inside him. The looks he sends his way, the feeling of Derek’s hand in his, his broad chest and how it’s the perfect pillow for Spencer’s tired head. 

Time moves too fast so Spencer has no choice but to play it back, over and over again. 

“I’ve never been more jealous of your eidetic memory,” Derek chuckles when Spencer tells him this a little shyly on their next date. 

At first he’s terrified his boyfriend is mocking him, not appreciating just how deadly serious he’s being, but the earnest, adoring look Derek is wearing across his features tells him otherwise. His expressive face is one of the things Spencer loves so much about him; social situations and cues are hard for him to read, but one look at Derek’s face and he knows exactly what’s happening, exactly how to respond and behave. 

“It’s one of the few perks,” Spencer concedes, slipping his mittened hand into Derek’s. It’s late November and the evenings are cold, even in DC, but walking down the quiet street lit up by Christmas lights together after a delicious meal warms Spencer from the inside out. 

They pause a little way down the street when Derek points up at a Christmas light decoration in the shape of a mistletoe. “It would be bad luck if we didn’t,” he says seriously despite the playfulness in his eyes.

“Can’t have that,” Spencer hums, and he plays with the wide buttons on Derek’s double-breasted coat as he leans in and connects their lips in a soft kiss, feeling Derek’s hands come to his waist in the way he likes far too much, feeling small in his boyfriend’s hold. 

“An extra one for good luck,” Derek whispers as he leans in for one more after they pull away, brushing a lock of Spencer’s hair out of his eyes. “That’s how it works, you know.”

“It is?” Spencer laughs, eyes crinkling fondly at the look on his face. 

“Mhm,” Derek confirms, moving his hand to Spencer’s lower back as they continue their walk back to Spencer’s apartment. “I’m a Christmas tradition expert. I know more than you, probably.”

“Sure,” Spencer grins diplomatically, leaning in closer to the warm body next to him, contentedness flooding his insides.

Derek only stays for an hour before driving back to dump his stuff and repack his go-bag for the upcoming week, but it’s sort of a good thing. A lot has happened in a very short span of time and Spencer appreciates having a bit of uninterrupted alone time to really think about what’s been going on. 

They’ve had five dates by now: Derek had given him a little present to commemorate the moment, immediately making Spencer feel guilty for doing nothing of the sort, guilt which had quickly been assuaged by a gentle touch to the back of his hand. At first, he hadn’t known what to say. It was an understated necklace, a silver chain with a small triangle pendant on the end of it. He wasn’t a big jewelry person really, but on their first date, Spencer had talked at length about why triangles were his favourite shape (not his proudest moment) but Derek was so thoughtful. He could wear it all the time while easily concealing it at the same time, and it was just the most perfect gift he’d ever received.

He rolls it over in his fingers as he curls up in bed. He was falling in love with Derek, and he had absolutely no proof he was falling in love back; no proof, but he’d seen… something. Even just the present felt like statement enough. Maybe this was going to be it for him. Maybe Derek was going to finally give him the very thing he’d been craving all these years. 

It’s a comforting enough thought to dampen the doubts and fears niggling at him, and it sends him to sleep with the kind of peace in his heart he’d written off as impossible a long time ago. 

⭐️

Go-bags are packed, the case is wrapped up, and the team are saying their goodbyes to local law enforcement when Hotch gets the phone call. 

He’s wearing a mildly irritated frown when he heads back over a few minutes later. “There’s been a problem with the jet,” he informs them, grimacing at their annoyed reactions, “so you can either drive home yourself or wait. Garcia’s re-booking the hotel for the night and I’m informed that the plane should be ready to go by the morning.”

Spencer shoots a look at Derek who immediately understands and nods in return. Columbus, Ohio is a 6/7 hour drive back to DC, and the alone time after being so close but so far for almost a week sounds like heaven. It’s only 4pm: they won’t even get home that late.

“It’s funny, isn’t it?” Spencer muses once they’re on the road, curled up in the driver’s seat with his trusty blanket tucked around him as he admires his sexy boyfriend at the wheel. 

“What do you mean, baby?” he asks, looking over briefly. 

“Well just last week we were talking about taking a road trip together and then Hotch not only gives us the opportunity but also provides the transport,” he says, thumbing the pendant around his neck. It’s become almost a self-soothing thing now: even if it’s usually hidden under his ties at work, just knowing it’s there settles something deep inside him. 

Derek chuckles at that. “I’m not sure I imagined Hotch being quite so involved in our romantic get-away, but yes, it is one hell of a coincidence,” he agrees. “Although mark my words, I will take you on a proper road-trip one day. And I want to take you on a nice holiday, too. Paris, London, Florence. Bali, Thailand, maybe.”

Blush spreading across his cheeks, Spencer smiles over at Derek. “Yeah?” 

“Oh yeah,” Derek grins over at him, “I’m gonna treat my pretty boy like it’s my job.”

“You already do.” He feels shy suddenly, a little overwhelmed at the emotions Derek is eliciting in him right now. 

“Baby,” he says, shaking his head, mischief dancing in his eyes, “you ain’t seen nothing yet.” 

Spencer’s already thinking of counting it as their eighth date, but Derek seals the deal when he pulls off the interstate and onto a much quieter road as they near DC. It’s just gone 10 and the December night is cool and clear, but he still looks quizzically at his boyfriend as the engine shuts off.

“Trust me,” Derek says and gets out of the car. Spencer, of course, trusts Derek implicitly so obediently gets out of the car and joins him at the front of the jeep, leaning against the hood. “Look how beautiful it is.” 

They’re on a country road, surrounded by wheat and barley fields, but Derek’s looking up. The night sky is littered with stars, constellations clear as day against the inky black backdrop of mid-December. “My favourite constellation is probably Cassiopeia, you know,” Spencer explains, barely observing the sky before looking to Derek to impart his knowledge. “She’s one of the only figures banished to the heavenly realm as punishment and not in honour, and it was because she flaunted her beauty too much, and her vanity--”

He’s interrupted by a hand on his forearm. “Spencer,” Derek says softly, catching his attention and slowing his info-dump. “Look up.”

Instead of thinking about all the intellectual and academic aspects of astronomy, astrology, and physics, he takes a good while to just absorb the beauty of the night, probably for the first time in his life. He lets himself rest in that moment, sinking into Derek’s side as they shiver a little in the frigid air, staring at the bright, twinkling lights smiling down at them. 

For some reason, it feels like the universe’s blessing. The stars aligning, the inky sky approving, frozen air applauding. Derek leans over and kisses Spencer, holding his face in both his hands as their insides warm against the cold and in that moment Spencer knows. He still has no proof Derek feels the same way, but with one touch he knows that he’s in love. 

⭐️

Spending Christmas apart is hard, but they make up for it with their eleventh date, Derek driving them over to the National Zoo and listening diligently to Spencer’s info-dumping. They spend the whole afternoon walking through all the exhibits and Derek buys him a pretty steady stream of candy-floss, hot-dogs and cuddly toys throughout their time there, keeping Spencer flushed and happy, completely in his element. 

Derek cooks them dinner at his apartment afterwards, making Spencer’s favourite, a simple spaghetti bolognese with a healthy amount of homemade garlic bread on the side, and they eat at the cosy kitchen table, cheesy candles aflame as they chat easily. 

They get ready for bed in tandem, brushing their teeth together, toothpaste spilling down their chins as they laugh wildly at each other in the mirror. It’s a comfortable sort of ease, a domesticity that feels far too natural for such a youthful relationship. It works though, and neither of them are complaining as they fall asleep folded into each other’s arms. 

Spencer wakes up first but Derek isn’t far behind him, kissing his scrunched up nose almost as soon as he opens his eyes to find Spencer lazily curled up on his chest. “Breakfast?” he asks.

“Please.” 

The toast Derek puts in ends up burning when they get distracted by one another, but Derek just laughs and puts it in the bin and drives them to McDonald’s instead. “I hope you know I’m keeping this shirt,” Spencer teases as they pull on loose sweatpants and trainers and hop into Derek’s car. 

“I wouldn’t expect anything less, baby,” Derek says sincerely. “My entire wardrobe is open for your perusal. Seeing you in my clothes does things to me.”

“I know,” Spencer says, face full of faux innocence. “Why do you think I want to keep them?” 

“You are such a fucking tease,” Derek smirks, shaking his head disapprovingly, “but you know I love it.”

“Mm, I do,” Spencer agrees, reaching across the console and resting a hand on Derek’s thigh. 

“Oh, God, baby, you just wait until we get home.” 

Spencer pulls his hand away, satisfied smile playing across his lips. 

“Brat,” Derek mutters under his breath as they pull into the drive-thru. Spencer just smiles wider. 

Spencer lets his guard down with Derek in a way he’s never done with anybody else and you’d have to be stupid not to notice, so of course Derek is fully aware of the responsibility on his shoulders. Later that morning, after a greasy breakfast, satisfying fuck, and a shared shower, they sprawl across the sofa, nestled into one another comfortably as the TV plays some hallmark movie in the background. 

“My last boyfriend didn’t turn out so nice,” Spencer says when Derek brings up the topic of exes. It brings a heavier note to their light-hearted conversation, but he knows they’ll have to talk about it eventually and it might as well be now. “He got into it because he thought I was innocent and attractive, but when it came to actually spending time together and he found more out about me, he changed his mind.”

“Baby,” Derek murmurs into his hair, “dId he hurt you?” His voice is full of apprehension, afraid of the answer but needing to know. 

“Only once,” Spencer whispers. “I left him after that. But he was kind of emotionally cruel before that and it compounded on a lot of issues I already had from when I was little, you know, with my dad and bullies and everything. It took a long time to rebuild myself, I just…”

He trails off, not knowing how to put what he wants to say into words. 

“Sweetheart, I need you to know that I will never hurt you, not like that,” Derek says earnestly as he catches onto what Spencer’s afraid of deep down, caressing his arm softly. “I can’t promise I won’t make mistakes or accidentally say something wrong, but I will never hurt you like others have done in the past. You’re safe with me, pretty boy. And I am so proud of you for building yourself back up after trauma like that: you are absolutely the strongest person I know, and I don’t say that lightly, yeah?” 

And, yeah. That feels like proof for Spencer.

⭐️

They keep it a secret for as long as possible, but Emily finds out in late March and Rossi follows shortly after. Even once it’s out to everyone, though, they don’t change their work dynamic, they don’t give into any kind of temptation in the field, despite not having to hide anymore. They know the only way they’ll be allowed to stay on the same team is if it doesn’t affect their actions and choices one bit. So even though Derek’s protectiveness is ratcheted up several notches, he swallows it down and doesn’t comment on dangerous situations Spencer goes into. He’s sure Spencer would find that pretty hypocritical anyway; he’s constantly chastising his own recklessness in the field.

Just because Derek bites his tongue at work, though, doesn’t mean he can’t comment on it at home. So after a particularly irresponsible decision Spencer makes in a hostage situation, seriously endangering himself, he holds it in until they step into Derek’s apartment and Spencer looks at him, confused at why he’s clearly stewing in something and not talking about it. 

“What’s going on?” he asks as he toes his shoes off and makes himself at home in the same way he’s done for months now. 

“What’s going on?” Derek repeats incredulously, raising his voice ever so slightly. “You were so fucking rash and reckless today Spencer, you could have died! And you ask me what’s going on? Are you fucking kidding me?” Really it’s fear manifesting itself as anger but right now the rage bubbling up inside him feels almost suffocating. 

“I knew what I was doing,” Spencer says defensively, looking completely bewildered at the sudden outburst. 

“You know that what you were doing was seriously endangering yourself, Spencer,” Derek argues, voice rising even more. “Yes, you saved a hostage today. But you also could have gotten yourself killed, and you have to understand that your life is not worth less than anybody else’s, okay?”

“Derek, I signed up for this life, she didn’t--”

“No,” Derek shouts. “No, don’t give me that. It would fucking crush me to lose you, Spencer, and it seems like you don’t even care about that. Do my feelings even matter to you?”

“What? Of course, they do, Derek,” Spencer says, still looking caught off guard and confused as he tries to figure out the situation and why his boyfriend is so angry. He tries to temper the unpleasant feelings filling his chest cavity, like muscle memory, fingers remembering a piece of sheet music played far too many times. 

“Well then fucking prove it,” Derek yells. “You aren’t listening to me! You endangered yourself and that’s terrifying for me. Your life matters Spencer, and sometimes I feel like it matters more to me than it does to you!”

“Derek, please calm down,” he pleads, wanting to talk about this properly and not feel so ambushed. “You’re scaring me.” 

That immediately catches Derek’s attention and the anger seems to leak out of him like a stopper’s been pulled out, draining him dry for only a moment before fear and guilt fill its place. “Fuck,” he mutters, sitting on the sofa and burying his head in his hands for a second before sitting up and making eye contact with Spencer. “I’m sorry, Spencer, I shouldn’t have yelled. I just… you scared me. You went against protocol today. You know that the FBI does not mandate agents putting themselves at serious risk of death or injury, even if it would save a life. Your life matters so much, to me, to the team, to your mum. People care so much about you, baby, and I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you, okay? You put the fear of God in me earlier and sometimes… sometimes anger is the only way I know how to deal with those emotions.” 

“I know,” Spencer whispers, and though it’s unsaid they both understand he’s acknowledging every part of Derek’s speech. “I’m sorry, too. I didn’t think about how my actions would affect you. I guess I’ve gone so long as a solo act, only having to think about myself and with very little to live for, it’s just taking time to adjust to remembering that I have you and your emotions to consider now. I need you to know, though, that I can’t deal with it when you shout at me like that, if you have a problem I need you to discuss it with me because I can’t figure out what’s going on when there are lots of emotions and raised voices, it confuses and upsets me.”

“I will, Spencer, I promise. I’m so genuinely sorry I handled it so poorly this time.” 

“Thank you,” he whispers gratefully. 

“Come here,” Derek says, the beginnings of a smile playing over his lips. He pulls Spencer into a gentle embrace, relishing the feel of Spencer, alive, pressed against his body. His warm skin, beating heart, soft curls, all shared with him, entrusted to him. 

“Next time I’ll stop and think about you, Derek,” Spencer says softly as he rests his head against his shoulder. “I’ll remember to prioritise us, remember that we can’t save everyone.” 

“Thank you, baby,” Derek says. “And I’ll be more patient; remember that you haven’t had anyone to remind you properly of the worth you have in a long time. We’re good, though, aren’t we?”

“So good,” Spencer confirms, pulling back and smiling properly before kissing Derek softly. He moves down to nose at his neck slightly, pressing a few tender kisses there, too. “Shall we head to bed? You look exhausted.” 

“That sounds like a plan,” Derek agrees before a cheeky smile plays across his features. “As long as you wear one of my shirts again…”

“Oh, what a hardship,” Spencer groans, winking at him in the lop-sided, awkward way he always does. “But I suppose I’ll do anything for you.” 

Spencer stays up for a little while after Derek falls asleep, reading over some casenotes, a few consults, and figuring out a new angle for a research paper he’s working on. Quiet, methodical work -- no matter how gruesome -- helps him wind-down after the high adrenaline of a case and it feels extra necessary tonight after the argument he’d had with Derek. 

He feels his boyfriend stir only a few hours after he’s dropped off to sleep, staring up at Spencer in the soft glow of the pink lamp on the bedside table bought for exactly these sorts of nights. A strange look plays across his face as he reaches for Spencer’s hand and holds it. 

“You’re my best friend, Spencer,” he says, completely serious. “You know that, don’t you?”

Spencer’s done obsessing over proof. 

“Yeah,” he whispers, looking down at their intertwined hands before back at his face, “I love you, too, Derek.” His smile softens even more when he sees Derek’s face relax into a relieved expression, knowing that his meaning was understood. 

“Good,” he whispers, kissing the back of Spencer’s hand before lying his head back down on the pillow. “Night, pretty boy. I love you.”

As Derek drifts back off to sleep, he hears those words echoing around in the silence, a soothing, methodic rhythm of reassurance that what he’s wished for since the very first look on the way to the jet has materialised. 

Knowing it is one thing, but hearing it is another. Derek loves him. He hears it in the silence, feels it on the way home, and when he curls up next to his boyfriend, he can even see it with the lights off. 

[peachyteabuck]

eye on the prize

summary: commission for astrid, who asked for chris evans x reader interview fluff.

pairing: chris evans x reader

words: 3,006

trigger warnings: RPF, slow burn, heavy flirtation, idiots in love, nondescript mentions of misogyny in the media as a business, a likely poorly reconstructed timeline (time fake and reality is a construct!)

ask box / masterlist / commission info / ko-fi

The hotel bed is large, big enough for four of you. The blankets are thick and the soft, the pillows a perfect balance of structured but plush. Sunbeams stream onto the mused sheets, warming your face. It’s nice, but only as nice as the calm before a major tropical storm can be. As your phone alarm blares next to you, you start to wonder if being caught in a category five hurricane would be better than press junkets.

A whole day talking to people about a movie you made months ago that you know jack shit about. Sometimes you have nightmares about giving a book report on a novel you’ve never even opened (you’re how old? And high school is still haunting you? Jesus, you need to go back to therapy) that cause you to break out in a cold sweat and kick all the covers from your bed and buy a bunch of stuff online to distract yourself from your racing heart and shaking hands.

Still, those are never as bad as interviewers asking about character arcs and plotlines and your relationship with actors you’ve barely (if ever) met and whatever else a normal interviewer would ask a normal interviewee when all you know is your character, the fact that she does shit with magic, and she’s Dr. Strange’s daughter. Anything other than that is anyone’s guess.

Your stylist and makeup artists are the ones to eventually drag you out of bed and plop you into hair and makeup after squeezing you into an incredibly tight pair of jeans and a non-controversial sweater. The forty-five minutes are a complete blur, but then again, nothing feels real until Sebastian hands you a large coffee in a travel cup that bares no logo or other kind of copywritten signifier – your knight in shining…cardboard? What are travel coffee cups even made of? Paper? Can paper even “shine?”

You’re nearly purring when the taste of caramel macchiato burns your tongue. “Ah. Thanks, Seb. I appreciate it.”

Sebastian shrugs, sipping at his own drink masquerading as generic brand. “No problem. I didn’t want you to bite an interviewer’s head off this morning. Or worse, mine.”

You play-hit him in the face and laugh with him, making small talk and trying to kill the time before the mind-numbingly long day really begins. You’re halfway through a rant about the woes of make up artists trying to put you in a full face of makeup to a man who barely has to put on concealer, the fucking asshat, when Chris makes an appearance.

“Hey, guys,” he’s is also drinking coffee from the unmarked travel cups. He looks you up and down before taking another sip. “You look really nice today.”

You blush, smoothing out your sweater – one of the color-blocked ones that sits at the intersection of casual, feminine, and not-intimidating. “Thanks, you too.”

Sebastian’s about to say something snarky when someone wearing a headset calls upon the three of you.

“Let’s get going, people!” she calls, ushering you into three barely-comfortable seats. You’re between Chris and Sebastian, the sheer mass of them making you feel approximately three feet tall. It doesn’t take much to forget how large they both are – even if Sebastian doesn’t weight two hundred pounds anymore and Chris was able to tone down his exercise regime since finishing Infinity War, you still feel like you’re sitting at the big-kid table for the first time.

The first interviewer is from some YouTube channel you only know because your fourteen-year-old niece gushes about them every family dinner. The woman who sits in front of you is young, cute. Dresses trendy, dark eye makeup and red lips.

She’s nice, too, along with being knowledgeable about the projects of each of you. She banters with Sebastian about his seven million movies before turning to you.  

The interviewer turns to you. “And you! You’re nominated for some pretty major awards!”

You smile wide, unable to help yourself. “Yeah, best actress and best original score.”

“That’s so cool,” Chris mumbles. You blush and pretend not to hear him as you speak again.

“It’s just super crazy,” you tell the interviewer. “Not even gonna lie. When I was younger, I would look at stars who like, cried when they found out they were nominated. Not even winning, just their name shows up on the ballot. But now I’m like, it’s me, two-time Grammy nominee! I was nominated for a Grammy, twice!”

Sebastian chimes in, laughing. “When we were at bunch together, I got there early and the caterer showed up and they were like, we’re here for the two-time Grammy nominee?”

“You had a brunch?” The interviewer asks.

You nod. “Yeah, I bunch of the Avengers cast and the cast from my last movie were in my hometown, which is super rare, so I hosted this giant brunch-”

“As one does,” Sebastian chimes in with a crooked smile.

You nearly hit him. “Yes! As I do! I wanted to see all my friends, whom I love, so I host a brunch. Sue me! Anyway…I hosted this brunch and invited a bunch of people over. Just a bunch of my favorite food from my favorite restaurants. Everyone I’d wanted to see for such a long time was there. It was amazing.”

The interviewer paints a faux frown across her face, looking at the man on your right. “Chris, you look very sad.”

“I didn’t get invited to the brunch,” Chris frowns. Unlike the woman in front of you, he looks genuinely sad. A twinge of pain bounces in your ribcage, and you rub his cardigan-clad back

“You were out doing Broadway shit!” you laugh. “You were halfway across the country!”

Chris continues to frown, staring at the printed-out pictures from the social medias of various guests. A few are from yours – you in a flowy sundress with your head thrown back laughing, a shot of you and a few of your friends from college drinking alcohol in the bright mid-afternoon sun. One you recognize from Sebastian’s Instagram, another from Hemsworth’s. A few from Twitter of a few of your non-movie-star friends. You look so happy in all of them, so beautiful in each shot. “I still wanted to be invited.”

You just roll your eyes. “Okay, call me when you’re in my region of the country and I’ll host a brunch,” You touch your forefinger to his nose. Chris blushes, profusely, in his cheeks and his ears. “just for you and me.”

You don’t hear much after that, too focused on Chris’ eyes meeting yours and his small smile. You’re taken aback by how sweet, tender he looks, and before you know it the interviewer is saying goodbye and the next one is taking her place.

It’s a man this time, a little older than the last one with artsy facial hair and a button hip. He mostly pays attention to the two men and soon your brain goes on battery-saver and you’re lost in your own thoughts.

Are hipsters still a thing? Is that what this guy is trying to be? Do hipsters even like Marvel? Is that too “mainstream for them?”

Eventually he asks a question about you, your recent entry into the Marvel Cinematic Universe, your music, your composing. You’d be happy to talk about your passions, of course you are, but the first genuine question of the interview is positing towards…not you. You’re about to tune everything out again, but then Chris speaks and you snap back to attention.

“It’s always interesting to meet people who bring something new to the art form, ya know? A huge part of acting is learning and evolving and all that, especially from other actors,” Chris avoids your gaze, and the gaze of everyone else, as he speaks. “If you stop learning, if you stop growing, what’s the point? Why would I do this job if I didn’t think it could change me for the better?”

There’s a moment of thick silence, the heavy weight of Chris’ introspective answer settling over the people in the room. It’s one of the things you lo-

It’s one of the things you enjoy most about Chris, how dedicated he is to acting as more than a job. It’s amazing, truly, how much he adores what he does. You could spend the rest of time with him, a plate of cheese, and a bottle of wine; listening to him talk about how he thinks of acting as an art, how that art can impact people and society, how actors have a responsibility to that art (that is, of course, after you mock him endlessly for Not Another Teen Movie and Fantastic Four).

You feel like a high schooler again, doodling your first and his last name in hearts in your math notebook with your favorite pink glitter pen. You’re an adult, why are you blushing red as a raspberry every time he says something smarter than a fast food order?!

The rest of the day goes down in a blur, the only time you start to care again when someone on the production staff calls for dinner (yeah, no lunch on press junket day. You can ask for a light snack, but you learned the hard way a full meal is “bad for your figure” and “makes you likely to burp on camera” and a bunch of other stuff you care very little about).

All three of you groan in happiness when you enter the room designated as craft, the thick smell of barbeque hitting you like a baseball bat. But a good baseball bat, though, like…one you ask to be hit with. Honestly, you have no idea what you’re talking about because you’re so hungry.

When you finally manage to scavenge food, Sebastian’s right behind you as you stare at a very delicious looking tray of pulled pork. Your plate is already full, but what if they take the food away? And then what if you get hungry later?

“You know he’s flirting with you, right?” he whispers as you watch the man in question scroll through Twitter on his phone. Chris is eating about the same thing you are, plus celery. You almost make a quip about it being “nature’s floss,” but then you realize that would be dumb because Sebastian definitely wouldn’t find it as funny as Chris would.  

You shrug, picking up a French fry from your plate. “Yeah, but you were, too.”

He scoffs into his second Americano of the morning. “Nah. Not like that. He likes you! He like likes you!”

“He does not-“

“And you like-like him!” He boops you on the nose and pinches your cheek like some sort of grandmother who hadn’t seen her fifteen-year-old son since he was five. “My little baby has a cruuuush!” he coos while making small kissy noises.

You’re about to bite back about how you’re not that much younger than him, but then the sound guy on the other side of the meat tray glares at the both of you. Looks like, while Chris couldn’t hear your bickering from the across the room, this dude definitely could – and he’s not very happy about it.

“Sorry,” you both mumble, shrinking away from the persecuting techie and his judgmental eyes.

Sebastian only talks again when you find an unpopulated corner, devoid of prying eyes and anyone who could be annoyed with the two of you gossiping like high schoolers.

“You know I’m not wrong, right?” he says around a bite of crisp apple. What is up with this guy and fruit?  Sure, he’s on a restrictive diet for a role to keep him from bulking up (something at the intersect of keto and vegetarian but able to eat lean meats) but he’s can’t eat like, the vegan stuff? Why must he always eat like rabbit in your presence? “Have you not seen what he says on Twitter?”

You scoff. “No, because I don’t have a Twitter. And neither do you!” You narrow your eyes accusingly. “How do you know what he posts?” Sebastian rolls his eyes. “I see screenshots on Instagram, first of all. Second, he could be complimenting your music on the inside of a cave. It’s about the principle.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” you hiss. “Also, I’m done arguing with you about this. Let me find a cheeseburger and eat in peace. Is that too much a woman to ask, Sebastian!?”

He just laughs you off and lets you eat in peace, eventually getting his own food. Though, you suppose the meal was specially timed, because then Chris Evans is sitting next to you.

He’s about to say something, too, and you’re about to listen, but then you get called for an individual interview for a women’s health magazine and you have to leave him and you plate of food and fuck…you hate this job. A lot.

The interview is boring, once again, and the next time you have another coherent thought you’re taking the elevator back up to your hotel room and waving off your manager, who is telling you to be downstairs by seven tomorrow to catch your flight back home.

You’re just kicking off your heels when you hear a faint knock at the door. When you look through the peephole, you see a very sad-looking Christopher Evans. With his small frown and hunched shoulders, he looks like a kicked puppy; and even though all you want to do is take your bra off, you let him in.

He’s quiet for a moment before speaking as if he was a child preparing to be scolded.

“I lost my hotel key. And my backup got demagnetized.”

You bite back a laugh, trying to seem sympathetic. “Do you want to chill in here until security brings you another one?”

Chris nods solemnly as he steps through the threshold. “Thanks.”

Neither of you speak for a while, instead Chris looks around your quite messy (or “homey,” as you call it when you FaceTime your best friend and she scoffs at how easy you can make a room look like a hurricane tore through it) room and you…find an outfit for tomorrow?

You’re the first one to speak, only breaking the quiet after changing into fuzzy socks and sneakily taking off your lacey bra (and tucking it under the covers of the bed for you put away later).

“Well, that was excruciating,” you mumble. All you want to do is change into your biggest, most comfortable hoodie and your cotton panties and order room service and ignore humanity until you leave for a flight the next morning, but a man you’ve had a crush on since he appeared as Johnny Storm is right in front of you and after that talk with Sebastian your world is kind of shaken to its core and should you make a move? Is he the kind of guy to not like that? Would you want to be with a guy that doesn’t like that? What if he-

“Always are, I guess.” Chris interrupts your train of thought, saving it from going off the rails. When you at him he looks just as, if not more than, exhausted than you are. “That’s one of the things that you forget, I think. How hard it is to talk about these movies.”

You snort. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Chris smile a little wider as you laugh. “Yeah. Other movies I can talk about like, characters and plots and shit. With these I live in constant fear I’m gonna pull a fucking Ruffalo and get my ass fired from the best paying gig I’ve ever had.”

Chris laughs with you, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Word.”

An awkward silence fills the room and you find something, anything to do to avoid his heavy gaze under those thick eyelashes and his thick beard that you just want to run your fingers through or his even softer hair that you want to mess up while you-

“Do you want to get dinner together sometime?” you blurt. You’re ready to take back the words as soon as you say them, wanting to backtrack or say “just friends” or “ha-ha, just kidding!” or something else that absolves you of non-platonic commitment.

By a long stretch of luck that you can’t even begin to thanks a long number of deities for, Chris doesn’t laugh at you or turn you down or even walk out of the room. He meets your gaze with excitement in his eyes and a smile wider than your home state. “I’d love to,” is all he says. It’s all either of you get to say before his phone rings loudly, and the name of the head of security flashes on his screen. He sighs loudly, apologizing as he takes it. Somehow, you feel more awkward as he turns away and answers the call. You fidget with your hands, with a loose thread on the sweater you’ve come to hate more than anything else in the world, with your phone. Nothing makes it easier to face Chris again once he hangs up.

“That was…,” he laughs lightly. Not laughing at you, maybe at life or how weird his life is, but never at you. “You know. They fixed my key and want to give it to me in person.”

You swallow and nod. “Yeah, understandable. I’ll, uh,” you clear your throat. “I’ll see you…”

Chris finishes for you. “How about we find a good restaurant near here after I’m confirmed to actually be me by the private security detail our employers hired to make sure no one kills us? We can have that second dinner I’ve heard you always eat late at night.”

Holy shit…he remembered that time you vaguely mentioned how much you enjoy staying up late and eating lots of food. It makes you blush as you respond.

“Yeah that sounds,” you sigh happily, smile just as big as his is. “That sounds great.”

[bucksbisexual]

okay since im rewatching 2gether, might as well make my reaction public lol

tine trying to be a supportive boyfriend by asking wat if something is troublig and wat’s himbo self being like “nah fam im good” god i love this dumbass

also tine not knowing how to talk about his feelings is so relatable help

honestly i would’ve LOVED to see sarawat at least one (1) question

tine’s smile while wat drinks..... Sir I Am In Love With You

also his blush..... Sir I Am More In Love With You Than I Was Before

“is the lyric about smile or happiness?” “don’t cheat” wat saw through his bullshit right there KSJFHKS

i wonder what’s in those glasses because it doesn’t quite look like coke but it obviously isn’t beer,,,,

ohhhhh “a friend from high school” ... explains tine’s reaction we see in the teaser when he introduces pam as his highschool friend

also explains why tine thought sarawat made that video for her instead of him. wat is in his high school clothes and tine probably thought it was before he saw him (when in fact it was probably recorded the same day lmao sarawat hopeless romantic)

tine: one more game! [spins the coin and supposedly falls on heads] wat!

sarawat: no one can talk to me if i fall asleep

i’m trying not to look at bright’s jiggly butt why is ass so fat fOR

it doesnt add the points here if i dont write something else so intro time yeet

yknow what . we need more earn and more pear in these two last episodes . i need my wlw rep and i need it Now

“personal space is important even for couples” still cant believe man was the owner of their braincell in this scene

tine giving all of type’s info away to wat so wat can give it to man who tine knows will use to pester him until he becomes his boyfriend...... say it with me: tine mantype shipper

“how did you know?” “i prayed to god” literally the funniest part ever

manboss: im not going good luck wat: you’re so full of bullshit

GREEN <3

i will just say that pink is tine’s best colour. i need him in every soft pink thing u can find. it accentuates his skin colour so perfectly and we are Here for it honeyyyy

MIL SHUT THE FUCKUP

sarawat being a savage (rachet booty nasty) we stan

bro get over him oh my god he’s taken and happy with wat LEAVEEEEEE

and man pestering type begins Now ksjfh

i’m like 100000000% sure that the only thing in that whole backpack is a pencil and half of an eraser

im also sure type saw him buy the book since u literally can see him from where man and that girl are and

hold up the waiter looks like a guy from whyru,,,,,,,,,,

i need someone to write a fic about tine being an astronomy lover and wat falling in love with him because of the joy in his eyes when he talks about the stars and interesting facts about the universe and new discoveries of galaxies and other things that wat doesnt really care about but he listens to either way because he’s too in love to shut off his brain

okay back to the episode sorry i just really had to say this

wat really said “don’t take advantage of me when i’m sleeping” when they haven’t even kissed.......... no words, completely speechless

tine probably thought he was being real sneaky right there lmao boy he fell asleep 2 seconds ago

god green really appears for 2 seconds and yet he steals the show KSFJHKFJFS he really was about to beat the person in front of him’s ass for not walking faster im crying i love him

BITCH SHUT UP AND LEAVE THEM ALONE STOP TRYING TO BE A HOMEWRECKER

wat looks so offended by his offer it’s so funny jhfksjhgj still MIL GET THE FUCK OUT

them running around is so funny when u know they had to do that like 20 times and were tired as fuck KSJFHKSHFS

WAT YOU SMOOTH FUCKER i love u

omg the bracelet truly isnt there at the start of the scene :-(

“nuisance tree” lemme just cry a bit

the music stopping here......... they truly played with our feelings there huh

WAT YOU SMOOTH FUCKER 2

the reactions are so kdrama outro i cant breathe KJHFJSFKJS

GET THE FUCK OUTTTTTTTTTTT

“well, you left him” IM GOING TO STEP ON YOU

bracelet where r u :-(

“it was here a second ago” it wasn’t im an obsessed bitch and noticed just as the scene there started

he looks so worried:-( tine baby

“i can make you a new one” “but i want the old one” why do i feel like that has more than one meaning,,,

half of the times wat touches tine’s head his hands are dirty as fuck lmaoooooo

is- is someone wearing a marihuana dress??????

manbosss again and he has a book

type is the teepakorn brother that can lie and will lie meanwhile tine can’t lie for a living

I LOVE THIS GUY GIVE ME HIS SELF CONFIDENCE

dim really made up a whole spirit just for wat to be with tine lmao i cant breathe (unless the pine tree spirit is an actual thing and he just used it for this specific thing lmao)

“that senior is me” “and who did you go with?” “that was a long time ago” “it wasn’t me, it wasn’t me” “green, drop it!” i love them KSFJHFSJHF

green and wats faces i cant bREATHE these are the faces of people who know this is all fake

BRO WAT WASNT EVEN THAT SLICK WITH THE PAPER IN HIS HAND SJKHSFHHKFS

my guess is that he had two papers that were the same number just incase they didnt get the same number but then somehow mf MIL had to come in and ruin it

i dont know who chose to make bright wear this much brown but it honestly fits him so well

coffee for his soon to be boyfie

man: loving u is kind of bothering? type: o_o man

he’s still reading the book kjshfsf WAIT HES SO CUTE

“you gotta miss me if i don’t show up one day” “just back off. i’m leaving. do not follow me. give me some time to miss you” okay tsundere ass bitch

type’s so rich he’d rather spend money on getting his tire fixed than get it fixed by man for free i hate rich people

he’s also too rich to care to check if his doors were locked i-

“for me?” “do you see anyone else?” bitch ass tsundere

type: smiles, realises he just did that, eyes cutely go o_o

type looks so cute in that scene for no reason im going to eat ur cheeks if u dont stop being a cutie

aaaaaand of course theyre not paired up

dude of course he is youre creepy and also trying to break his relationship apart only because u dont have the decency to see that you dont have a place in his heart whatsoever

dim honey........ jskhsjf

tine’s hair....... PLEASE I NEED TO TOUCH IT IT LOOKS SO FLUFFY

“the spirit doesnt like it when you pray with your eyes opened” did literally no one notice how nonsense that was? KSFJHSJ

GREEN U SCARED THE BABY WHY WOULD U DRESS LIKE THAT

he looks so cute im gonna cry like actually cry

weak ass blankets they gave them i swear

if u cuddled then u wouldnt have been cold but noooooo ur big puppy boyfriend has trust issues

baby:-((((((((((( i will cover u with a blanket and give u lots of kithes and hugs

tine having his phone die at an important moment and also having no sense of direction whatsoever is so relatable lmaooooo

thank god for the rain because otherwise sarawat wouldnt have ran the way tine actually went lmao i wouldve beaten dims ass if mil was the one who found him

this scene hurts so much:-(( his throwing the grass like that in complete defeat??????? the flashback to him saying that bad things seem to happen to them lately makes my heart break

the soft touches:-((((( please im gonna Cry

dnotsaysorrydontsaysorrydonsaysorrydontsayHE SAID SORRY FFS

baby :’((((((

“i prayed for something but i havent redeemed that prayer yet” “what did you ask for?” “it’s if i got to see you again, i would show you the video i made. it’s the song your smile you are so curious about” BITCHHHHHHHHH

HES GONNA SHOW ITTTTTT YES I LOVE HOPELESS ROMANTIC HIGHSCHOOLER SARAWAT

he’s all shy i cant breathe he cant even look at the screen skjfhksh

oh so it was on the same day sksjhj forgot about that

I CRY I LOVE HIM SO MUCH

tine is all blushy im gonna sob i love these two

im trying not to scream and tines reaction to wat telling him he went to every scrubb concert just to look for him

ITS NOT GONNA GET STUCK ON THE VIDEO BABY HE WILL LIKE U BACK IN A YEAR!!!!!!

“i like you” “yeah. i know. i like you too” AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA IM LITERALLY REWATCHINNG BUT I STILL JUST SCREECHED AT THAT I LOVE THIS CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT

their smiles after he said it tho.......... my heart hURTS

wat: the wish only drew us to cross paths again. us being together is because of something else, tine: what then? wat: shout out to my homies for being there for me since day one i love u bros

THE FLASHBACK AAAAAAAA I FOUND HIM YES U DID BABYYYYYY

boss’s whistle after he tells them that he only said he would kiss him until he dropped lmaoooooo

“his name is tine. [with the softest voice ever] what a cute name”

manboss looking at each other like this bitch is so gone for this random dude but we’re gonna support him because we’re the only friends he has

wat was probably wishing the pool had water in it so he could throw both of them into it at that moment KJSFHJSFHF

“he’s the one i like” “shiiiiiit” same dim, same

fan dee nAAAAAA

his ass was so gone he was gonna make his ig username lovetine i literally cant believe him

boss having the braincell in this scene i love it

“but earn has a boyfriend” LIES. SO MANY LIES. ITS A GIRL. SHES A WHOLE LESBIAN.

boss once again being the owner of the braincell...... im starting to think he owns it half of the time

“you get it now? us being together is not a coincidence. it’s because of us” WAT YOU SMOOTH FUCKER 3

wait,,,,, tine’s little head tilt,,,,,,, SIR I AM IN LOVE WITH YOU

the stars!!!!!!!!! theyre there!!!!!!

“i think nothing bad is going to happen anymore” honey you got a big storm coming

it ended :’(((((( my beautiful boys i love this episode and drama so much i swear

lets watch the next episode teaser

i dont think tine is gonna lsiten to pam saying that but if he does,,, baby pls dont overthink okay he loves u and wont leave u for anyone in the world

phukong dont come back to him he knows that u like him and will play with ur feelings

type is gonna have to choose between im guessing either a boy interested in him from work or man and im gonna vote for him going with man lets hope i win

WHAT IS WRNOG WITH U BRO GET OUT HES HIS BOYFRIEND OF COURSE HES GOING TO CARE AND WORRY YOURE JSUT A CREEP FOLLOWING HIM AROUND HOPING THAT THEIR RELATIONSHIP ENDS SO U CAN SNEAK IN UGH

“is pam your first love?” WHY DID U END THE TEASER THERE AAAAAAA BITCH

im so glad that the episode comes out today because i Need to know more

okay thats it if anyone read all of this first of all sorry kjshkfj and second of all thank u ,, u didnt have to but u did and ily for that okay bye

[starlightinhumanform]

The Art of Love: Chapter 10

Fandom: She Ra (2018)

Ship: Glimadora 

Summary: It’s chemistry again and Adora is missing, leaving Glimmer to wonder where she is. Glimmer has to face Weaver, Cat, and her feelings by herself. 

Warnings (for this chapter): Some descriptions of mild emotional distress/anxiety, Mild language (please tell me if anything needs to be added)

Genre: High School AU, Angst with a Happy Ending, Rivals/Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Fluff

A/N: As always, all notes mean so much to me (especially reblogs). I always love getting feedback and questions so feel free to drop a comment, send an ask, or add something in the tags! Hope you enjoy my dears~  Love you all 🖤✨

Ao3    The Art of Love Masterpost    Fic Masterpost    Fic Request Info

Glimmer’s feet shuffled on the laminate tiles as she dragged herself to fourth period. She could tell by the quickly thinning crowd that the passing period was almost over. She couldn’t bring herself to move faster- or to actually care. She had fallen asleep in her last period and had been forced to scribble down the half an hour of notes she had missed in the last three minutes of class- and then a minute or two of passing after that.

Her mind was a fog and the only lamp that occasionally shone through the dense clouds was a grumble of frustration. Glimmer couldn’t decide if she should blame her sleep deprivation on Ms Weaver or if it was better to somehow twist the situation onto Adora. Her brain suggested the third option of it being her damn fault for being so distracted the whole night and spending so much time on being a drama queen instead of actually doing work.

Glimmer let out a huff as the bell screeched. She glared at the door down the hall, behind which Weaver was almost surely cackling out some Disney villain laugh as she marked Glimmer late.

A large part of her was highly tempted to turn around and spend the entire period lurking in a corner of the art studio. She had dropped off the model that morning (By some miracle, Weaver hadn’t been there) so Adora could still present it and get points for them.

She stopped walking and tapped her fingers against her thigh. It was only a ten foot walk to the class but, god, at what cost?

She was jarred into movement by a security guard speeding past her on a bicycle. He was shouting at the empty hallway- something about, “COME ON PEOPLE, KEEP MOVING,”- as if he were policing Times Square and not just Glimmer as she slouched her way past the empty row of monotonous doors.

Glimmer huffed and sludged forward, pausing to glare at the disappearing guard before wrenching the door open.

“Glimmer you’re-“

“Late, I know,” she grumbled the inevitable end of Weaver’s sentence.

Glimmer could feel Weaver’s raised eyebrow without even looking up.

“Keep doing this and you’ll get-“

“Detention. I know.”

The other students were watching the exchange like they were waiting for a bomb to go off- tick tock tick tock. Glimmer was sure that if it were just her and Weaver, the woman may have actually lost it and begun screaming at her.

She settled into her seat, resolved not to let Weaver bother her today. She was too tired to give a shit.

Weaver paused before conceding to simply shake her head and move towards the middle of the room.

Glimmer hazarded a glance upward only to see Weaver surveying the room with a wicked grin, hands pressed together like a praying mans’; as if she was showing off the wicked red claws of her nails. It made Glimmer sick.

“So class, I have a surprise for you,” Smug, purred, smooth with jagged edges; Weaver reminded Glimmer of obsidian as the woman soaked in the sounds of hopelessness coming from her students, “I’ll be checking your projects today to see what you have done!”

The class groaned in unison and the girl in front of Glimmer began whisper yelling at her partner across the room- as if that could do them any good now. Glimmer would have rolled her eyes if they didn’t feel so heavy.

“I know, it isn’t wonderful?!” Weaver’s shark-toothed grin widened as she acknowledged her doomed class.

Glimmer felt bad for the kids in the room who didn’t have a hyperactive, annoyingly insistent partner who had in on Weaver’s evil plans- so basically everyone else.

Now that Glimmer was thinking about it, she hadn’t seen said ball of energy when she had walked in. She turned and was surprised to see Adora’s seat glaringly empty. Glimmer fought back against the wave of disappointment that hit her. It’s not like this was a completely bad thing- it meant that Glimmer would actually be able to concentrate. And Weaver would be more likely to give Glimmer credit for her work instead of immediately assuming Adora had done all of it. So yeah, it was all good. Except... She said she’d see me at school...

Glimmer internally sighed at her own pathetic foolishness; she was getting way too soft.

She allowed herself another glance back, as if Adora would’ve suddenly appeared there in the three second break between her stares.

Another wave hit her, this time a cascade of apprehension. Adora was not the type to skip class and Glimmer’s mind was quick to fill the fog in her head with worries. What if something happened to her? What if she passed out? What if she passed out because I kept her up all night? What if she got hit by a car? What if I hit her my car?? Wait no... I don’t have a car. But what if she’s trying to avoid me?

Glimmer’s mind slapped its hand down on a proverbial bell- Yep! She’s try to avoid you!

Glimmer could feel the sensation of sickness growing in her stomach and rising to her chest. She wanted to bury her had in her hand as a stupid emotional groan began clawing its way up her vocal cords.

“Hey, Glimmer,”  A snarky voice purred above her.

Glimmer growled as she looked up into Cat’s smirk, “What do you want?”

Cat gave an over the top pout, complete with big eyes and crinkled forehead, “Why, I just wanted to make sure you were ok.”

“I’m fine; leave me the hell alone,” Glimmer spat.

“All right, all right. You just looked a little,” Cat waggled her fingers, which only added to the insult of her airy, pretentious voice, “dazed-out there.”

Glimmer was suddenly aware of the movement around her- nearly everyone was already sat down with their partners or were at least taking a seat as she looked around.

“Also, I kinda need that seat,” Cat wrinkled her nose at Glimmer and pointed at the chair she was in.

Glimmer turned her head and to the side to see Cat’s partner Scylar beaming at her. Scy was a tall-ass wrestler with a loud punk style; if Glimmer’s brain was dazed enough to somehow skip over Scy throwing herself in the seat next to her (the girl never did anything without enthusiasm), then Glimmer had to be really out of it.

She stumbled out of her chair to move out of the way, “Oh right... I’ll just- move to the back then, I guess.”

Cat waggled her fingers in a wave as she slipped gracefully into Glimmer’s chair, “See ya later.”

Glimmer blinked at the girl for a second before realizing she had froze again. She took a step back, just trying to remember how to move. See ya later... see ya. See ya.

The words bounced around in her head like the little metal ball in a pinball machine- dink, dink, dink. Every time they hit the walls of her skull, I knew conspiracy dawned upon her. What if she knows that Adora was with me last night? Dink. What if she’s trying to get revenge? Dink. What if she told Adora not to come to class? Dink. What if Cat knows I, well that I, you know, abut, you know, Adora. The thought made a little ding! sound this time before ricocheting back even stronger. 

“Uh, Glimmer?” The arch in Weaver’s eyebrow was sharp enough to cut a steak with.

She blinked again, bringing her eyes into focus. She had made her way to the back of the classroom but had failed to actually take a seat. Looking around, the seemingly the entire room had eyes on her. Her face burned and she lowered herself into the nearest seat. Adora’s seat.

Adora should have been there; Glimmer needed Adora to be there. Glimmer felt pathetic in every sense of the word. Only a few days ago, she had wanted to keep as much distance between her and Adora as possible. And now she was useless without her. It was strange and it was wrong and it shouldn’t have been happening but there she was, simmering within herself as the class moved forward without her. She needed the assurance that letting Adora in was the right thing to do, that she hadn’t scared Adora off. She needed the simple hope that Adora didn’t hate her. Why shouldn’t she? You hated her for months; you called her a lair and a fake. Why shouldn’t she hate you?

Glimmer resisted the urge to grumble at herself to shut up. Sometimes her brain really did deserve to be yelled at, though.

The class was moving again, sifting through the maze of chairs to grab their projects. Glimmer followed suit as best as she could to meld into the crowd this time after the embarrassing space-out that had happened only a couple minutes before.

Ok but consider this. Glimmer rolled her eyes internally as her mind began rambling again. What if she does hate you- so what? You thought that she hated you for a long-ass time; why does it matter so much if she actually does now? It honestly might be a good thing. It’ll help you get over that stupid crush.

She kept moving forward, trying to ignore the words floating around in her head but it was so much easier just to argue back. Was she just adding to the noise? Yes. Was it satisfying to tell the devil in her ear that it was an idiot? Oh definitely. Consider this- you’re the one that’s so obsessed with Adora and maybe if you stopped worrying about her for a second, I could find something else for you to yell at me about for no good reason.  

It struck Glimmer just how much Adora had taken over her life; she had spent the whole day thinking and worrying about the girl. She was just a crush after all; it was ridiculous. Ok so Glimmer thought she was gorgeous and funny and smart and definitely the weirdest person she had ever met but in the best way possible? It was crazy to get this obsessed. Glimmer took a deep breath as she lifted her model off the counter, resolved to relax and go about this whole situation like a “normal” person. One problem. She had never crushed this hard on someone before. She had no idea how to act.

She settled back into her seat- Yes, it was her seat; Adora wasn’t here right now and that meant her seat rights were revoked. Glimmer snorted at her sleep-deprived mind as it continued to crack into smaller and increasingly hysterical pieces.

Glancing around, it was clear that the rest of the room was occupied. Weaver was stalking from partner to partner, leering over each of her victims with the sadistic joy that only a high school science teacher could possibly possess. The groups that weren’t being judged were either trying to throw together styrofoam balls or were praying. Glimmer was pretty sure that neither of those would help at that point.

Glimmer decided to take advantage of the surrounding chaos and grabbed her phone from the pocket of her backpack. She opened her conversation to Bow, ready to dump all her problems in her messages and hope she wasn’t blowing up his phone in middle of a test. Oh well, that’s a problem she could deal with later-

Hey hey hey. Ok so I’ve a problem

Well more like a question. But it’s questions about a problem

...hi? What’s going on lmao

You haven’t texted me since you sent me that weirdass text at like two in the morning

What were you even doing up then??

Oh good you are here ;)

What do you mean?? You were up too loser??

Oh my god just tell me what your ~problem~ is

Ok um sooooo

Yes?

SOOOOO

YES

WHAT

Glimmer moved a hand over her mouth to muffle the giggles that were escaping. Bow’s dramatics always made her laugh and she happened to be uncharacteristically bashful about this certain topic.

So I kinda have a big fat crush

The giggles disappeared very suddenly and Glimmer dug her teeth into her bottom lip as she watched the little blinking dots march in their message bubble, waiting for Bow’s response. Fortunately, he didn’t take long to reply. Unfortunately, Glimmer didn’t quite like his answer.

Is it Adora?

Dfydfgdgthkl how??

Look no one hates someone for no reason as much as you hated adora UNLESS you actually love them

Ok so Bow had a point and maybe he was right and she should have realized it earlier, but “love” was taking it several steps too far.

Also that text you sent last night was so lovestruck I could practically see the hearts in your eyes

I literally just said it turned out ok that you gave her my number?? Because YOU were freaking out??

Yes but you said it with love <3 <3 <3

I hate you

And it’s NOT love. I just like her

Sure...

Glimmer very nearly put her phone away with a huff before remembering that she accidentally had a reason for texting Bow to begin with.

Shut up, anyways do you know where Adora is?

Ooo you missing your girlfriend?

Glimmer’s face would burned red even if Bow hadn’t taken the low dig and called Adora her girlfriend. Because that was the dream, right? Because that’s exactly what she wanted but what she could never have. Because Bow didn’t know the ache in her chest, the pain he was causing. Because he was her best friend so he should know what was going on and how much everything had changed. Because she just wanted to tell him everything and ask him what the hell she should do, but there was something keeping her from telling him and maybe if she could just ask for help, she would know how to solve all her problems. And because yes, she missed Adora and the feeling was so much stronger than it should’ve been.

She glanced around herself, positive that someone had seen her face glowing as bright as a stop light. Everyone was preoccupied with their various crises, leaving Glimmer to her own in peace. Unfortunately Weaver was only two rows away and was drawing closer and closer to where Glimmer sat slumped. She would have to finish up her conversation quickly then.

I’m just wondering why she isn’t in class ok? Nothing more

If you don’t know then I’ll find someone else to ask

Jeez ok

Glim I’m sorry for teasing you

But no I don’t know where she is. Sorry :/ 

Yeah ok. Ttyl my dude 

Glimmer let a puff of air escape slowly from her nose as she zipped her phone into its pocket. Her head felt like a bag of bricks tied to the end of her neck, her eyes just as heavy. She was slumped severely in the chair, so low that her shoulder blades were pressing into the middle of the seat and if she scooted forward a couple more inches, she’d probably slip off entirely; the idea of how much her mother would disapprove of her posture almost drew a laugh from Glimmer.

She debated whether or not it was worth it was worth it to fall asleep. Weaver would be standing over her, glaring with disgust in only two minutes or so, and she would therefore be risking whatever humiliation that would come with Weaver’s disgust. But, mmmm, two minutes of sleep? That might be worth it.

Glimmer was just shifting to plant her head on the desk when the classroom door exploded open. In the doorway stood a slightly sweaty Adora beaming, as always, as if she herself were the sun.

All eyes flickered over to her simultaneously, staring with confused and maybe amused expressions. Adora just grinned wider, apparently in response, “Hey everyone!”

Weaver stood up straight, freezing to look Adora up and down. She seemed confused as to what to do next. The girl continued to stand in the doorway for a moment, seemingly completely comfortable in the situation. The edges of her ponytail were frayed with baby hairs sticking up at odd angles that framed her reddened face. Her breathing was heavier than usual and the blades of glass plastered up her legs combined to give the impression that she had come directly from running.

Adora strode forward, “Sorry I was late! Soccer event with all the captains!”

So Cat did know where she was.

“Oh, I guess that’s ok then,” Weaver unfroze but still seemed somewhat unsure as she turned back to what she had been doing before Adora had burst in.

Adora made her way to the back, stopping only to give Cat a small wave, and sat down next to Glimmer. Her eyes were sparkling and the only signs of any sort of sleep deprivation were the dark circles that contrasted sharply with her pale skin tone. Her energy level was no reflection the amount of sleep Glimmer knew she hadn’t gotten

“Hi!”

“...hi?” Glimmer really wasn’t sure what she was supposed to say. That was usual. What was unusual was that Adora seemed to be expecting her to say something.

Adora was sitting next to her and just a minute ago, Glimmer would have sworn that’s exactly what she wanted but now she had doubts. Adora was just so loud. Her energy made white noise roar in Glimmer’s head and her voice thundered in the empty space between Glimmer’s thoughts. And her smile, god her smile, it was the brightest thing Glimmer had seen all day and it made her eye smart; it felt like a hand had gripped the bottom of her heart and was pulling it down, stretching out of shape and digging crescent nail marks into the flesh. That smile was all that she wanted and all that couldn’t live up to.

Adora cocked her head to the side and let the smile drop slightly, looking more like a puppy than ever, “Is something wrong?”

Glimmer shook her head and took the easy option, “Nah I’m just tired.”

“Oh ok,” Adora seemed to debate on something for a second before regaining her grin, “Me too honestly.”

It managed to draw a snort from Glimmer, “Really? I could not tell by the way you came bouncing in here.”

“I had like, way too much sugar. Anyways, what’s going on?” She turned her head from side to side to look around the room and causing her long ponytail to whip in either direction with the momentum.

Glimmer sat up from where she had ducked down to avoid Adora’s weaponized hair, “You were right. Weaver’s going around checking all our projects.”

Adora pumped her fist, moving her elbow towards her body and dramatically sweeping her head forward, eyes closed, as she did. It was undeniably dorky and it was undeniably cute.

“And our project is great,” Adora stared down at the pile of wire and clay that was beginning to look to Glimmer more and more like some strange “aesthetic” torture tool used by a Pinterest girl the 15th century. Of course, Adora was looking at it with the same starry-eyed expression that she always wore when looking at Glimmer’s art.

Glimmer shrugged, “It’s ok, I guess.”

Adora feigned offense, “Excuse me, I put my heart and soul into that clay.”

Glimmer couldn’t help but break down into giggles. She was so tired and Adora was so dumb and Glimmer couldn’t exactly explain why but every joke Adora cracked became the funniest thing she had ever heard.

Adora grinned back at her, “But really, you should give yourself more credit. It turned out great and I know that it’s not thanks to me.”

Ugh, of course she had to go and make it all “wholesome.” Glimmer debated if it was worth it to say something back. It would be so much easier just to brush it off; so much safer. She had already crossed too many lines last night, the only solution was to go back to normal today. But she couldn’t even remember what normal was.

Glimmer glanced down at her hands. She had been unconsciously worrying at her nails and now her cuticles were beginning to turn red. She looked back up at Adora, “Look though... I wouldn’t have been able to get it done without you and I’m actually really glad you insisted on coming over.”

Adora smiled with the brightness and warmth of the sun, “I am too.”

Glimmer was in the process of absolutely melting under Adora’s affections when Weaver stalked to a halt in front of them, effectively freezing her back together, “So, Adora how did it turn out?”

Glimmer turned to Adora, watching her eyebrows scrunch together as confusion slowly drew across her face, “Well Glimmer did most of the work...”

Glimmer was beginning to wonder if this ‘innocent curiosity’ was something Adora put on just for Weaver. She wasn’t stupid, she certainly didn’t actually like Weaver and she had to know that there was something going on between her and Glimmer.

“...so why don’t you talk to her about it?”

The end of Adora’s sentence snapped Glimmer sputtering out of her thoughts, “Wait what? No, sorry?”

Weaver pivoted on her heels to face Glimmer, “Well then, what do you have to say?”

Glimmer glanced at Adora with wide eyes trying to convey the message of What the hell? Why would you do this??

Adora gave an encouraging smile and nodded. Very helpful.

“Um well,” Glimmer dragged her eyes from Adora (who was still giving that somewhat infuriating smile) to Weaver, “It’s a model of bismuth. The particles or painted to look like a sample of bismuth. That’s about it.”

“Very well then,” Weaver sniffed and began leering over the mess of purples and grays.

Glimmer could have sworn Weaver hadn’t been that critically focused on other groups but, then again, she hadn’t really paid much attention to what Weaver had been doing until moments ago.

Weaver continued to glare over the project as Glimmer continued to hold her breath. After far too long, Weaver moved away with nothing more than a “humph.”

As the click click of Weaver’s heels moved to the other side of the room, Glimmer deflated into her normal slump, “I swear she hates me.”

Adora squinted in the direction of their teacher, “I still don’t see why she’s such a bitch to you.”

Glimmer’s eyebrows shot up without her consultation, “I was not expecting you to say anything that... strong.”

Adora shrugged without giving a response, still grimacing towards Weaver- whatever that meant. If it meant anything at all. Maybe it didn’t. Maybe Glimmer was just taking a simple stare to mean way too much. After all, Adora was sleep deprived and apparently coming down from a sugar high. It would make perfect sense for her to space out. So that settled it; Glimmer was reading into too much, that’s all-

“I swear one of these days she’s going to say something shitty to you, and I’m just going to lose it.”

Oh. Glimmer could feel her heart rate spike like it was trying to reach the sky. That sounded nice, that sounded like maybe- just maybe- Glimmer wasn’t reading into it too much. It sounded almost protective and normally that would make Glimmer gag, but somehow this wasn’t normal.

But of course her only reply was to let out a nervous wheeze, “Why on Earth would you do that??”

Adora shrugged again, “I don’t like the way she treats you.”

Glimmer didn’t like the strength in Adora’s eyes. It wasn’t the level of contempt that led to bloodshed, but it was certainly more emotion than Glimmer deserved or would ever ask for. It made her uncomfortable; she didn’t understand why Adora would be so angry about something which, in the long run, probably wouldn’t matter.

She gave another awkward giggle, “It really isn’t a big deal.”

Adora opened her mouth to respond and Glimmer was almost grateful when Weaver began speaking from in front of her desk. Something seemed to switch off in Adora, her expression relaxing as she turned to face the front of the room.

“I can’t say I’m surprised but a lot of you really need to get to work,” Weaver hissed out a tsk noise between her teeth, “You only have a few days left to get this project done. You have about fifteen minutes left in this period and I expect you all to be focused that entire time. All right get to work.”

The class dissolved into noise as chairs were scrapped across the floor and notebooks were grabbed with the fevered terror that can only be inspired by a looming due date.

Adora reached across the desk to open one of the class-set laptops. She brought up the presentation she had been working on yesterday, the same pastel rainbows and soft pink theme. It sparked a strange sort of déjà vu in Glimmer, the exact same situation as yesterday but with so much less hostility. The dissonance was enough to make her head spin, but she couldn’t help but enjoy the difference.

Adora turned her head, mirth poorly concealed in her smirk, “Can I help you?”

Glimmer blinked quickly, suddenly aware that she had spaced out staring at at Adora, “Oh, um, sorry, no. I was just- no I’m fine.”

“You sure?” Adora was very obviously struggling to keep her smirk from dissolving into a full smile. People talk a lot about feeling butterflies in their stomachs but to Glimmer it felt more like a hundred tiny grasshoppers jumping out of time with one another.

She swallowed but her mouth had gone dry and she wasn’t sure when that happened. She tried to piece together a sentence that a normal human would say, “Yeah, um, I’m good. But what about you? Ya know, do you need help with the project or, uh, something?”

Adora seemed to pause for a moment, once again having to switch to a different setting. She looked almost disappointed and Glimmer still didn’t have any idea what was going on.

Then Adora’s face did something else Glimmer was not at all expecting. Her expression lost all of the playful cockiness it had held only a second before, shifting into what Glimmer could only describe as timid- maybe even embarrassed, “Um, yeah, actually. Could you draw some more things for me to use in the presentation?”

Glimmer didn’t understand Adora’s apparent discomfort. She flipped open a sketch book and grabbed a pencil, “Sure; what do you need?”

“Just another a sketch of it unprocessed or something like that would be great!”

Glimmer was beginning to learn that Adora’s stupid sunshine smile was somehow even warmer when you knew you were the one that had caused it.

The next few minutes went by quickly. They sat mostly in silence, both content in their own work. Sometimes Glimmer would glance over, catching Adora staring at what she had been drawing. Every time she did, Adora would give her a tiny sheepish grin before ducking her head away. Every time she did, something unfamiliarly soft would fill her up from her toes to her cheeks that she could tell were turning pink.

When the bell rang, Glimmer argued that the main reason she didn’t want to move was because she was just too tired, but she could tell it was a flimsy excuse of a lie and she hardly even cared.

Adora stood up, looking down once she had grabbed her backpack, “See ya!”

Glimmer sighed as she watched Adora bounce away from her. See ya.

[hopelessromanticspoonie]

To Keep You Safe

Title: All the good girls go to hell

Chapter: 12/?

Author: hopeless_romantic_spoonie

Summary: Life as the assistant to Tony Stark was busy, but boring. All of that changed when I touched something I shouldn’t have and woke up with strange new abilities. If I thought that trying to figure out my new place in life as an Avenger was tough, I had no idea what was in store for me once I ran into the frustrating God of Mischief, Loki.

Rating: E

Notes: Friendly reminder that this is un-Beta’d, so please excuse any typos or grammatical errors I no doubt missed during revisions!

Also on Ao3 here :)

Warnings: Blood, violence, torture, language, needles

~~~

The next two days were some of the most physically demanding of my life thus far. Loki and Nat worked me to the bone, both spurred on by the fear that this mission was going to go sideways and that I was going to be collateral damage. I didn’t blame them; that same fear did all it could to keep me up at night. Loki had taken to sleeping in my bed with me. It was easier to cut out the moments wasted by him running to my room when I had a nightmare, and he would hold me in his arms and whisper stories of his childhood–always about his mother–until I drifted off with the worries and whims of a child to chase away my more pressing and looming concerns.

I talked to Wanda and she got Vision to reluctantly agree not to spill the beans on Loki and I’s relationship. She wasn’t happy about it, but she understood our desire for secrecy with all the controversy around him, and that was all I asked. I was more concerned about Nat blowing our cover with all of the suggestive comments she made whenever we were within five feet of each other. For an assassin, she wouldn’t know subtle if it hit her over the head. And I’d know; I’d tried. The others shot us some questioning looks whenever he would station himself at my side around the Compound, or get a little more hands on with adjusting my stance in training, but nobody asked either of us about it. Maybe they saw it as a natural progression of his haunting me. Just a step up from being the ghost in the corner to a new, more touchy bodyguard. Or they were all too preoccupied with the upcoming mission to give it a lot of thought. Whatever it was, I was grateful for it.

So by the time the morning of the mission came, I was ready for it–if only to get a break from the punishing training sessions. I’d never experienced anything more surreal in my life than sitting on the Quinjet, surrounded by the Avengers, getting mission plans from Tony Stark. Looking around the room to see the people I’d begun to think of as my family suited up and looking lethal as hell was a bit intimidating. I still felt like an imposter, just some PA who had stumbled onto the jet and was given a suit. The usual crew from around the house, plus Loki, were all present and accounted for. He had made it abundantly clear that he was going wherever I was, which turned some heads, and it was agreed upon by everyone else that I wasn’t going to be left at the Compound. So, they got two bonus tagalongs for the job. At least we were useful tagalongs.

My nerves made themselves known as a lead ball in my stomach, and I kept twisting my fingers together in front of me from all the anxious energy threatening to make me explode if I didn’t do something. I stood next to Loki, trying very hard not to be distracted by him in his green and black leather armor, and focus on getting my head in the game.

“Intel says that there shouldn’t be more than 50 in there. Wanda says that this is just a surveillance base, so we shouldn’t be worried about anybody too big and bad. Now, that being said, somebody,” Tony snapped his fingers until I made eye contact with him, “needs to do everything by the book. Nobody runs off, nobody does some dumb hero shit, nobody gets separated from the group.

“Pebbles, you’re sticking with Nat and Loki. Do not leave them. You’ll be looking for their main server so we can get more info on their other bases. Again, you stick to them like glue. This isn't the first rodeo for those two, so do what they say. Just in case any funny business happens in there we want everybody to have someone watching their six.”

Tony pointed to the screen next to him on the wall, gesturing at a blueprint of the building Hydra had commandeered. “Rock of Ages, Widow and Pebbles will go in through here after we land. Loki, stick to her but do your Invisible Man schtick. We don’t think they know you’re with us, and what they don’t know will hopefully hurt them. Cap, myself, Wanda, Vision, and Thor are going in to take as many out as we can on the front end and distract them so that you all,” he pointed to Loki, myself, and Natasha, “can slip in as undetected as possible. Bruce and Sam, you guys are going to stick to the outside of the building in case they call for back-up. We’ll be in Washington D.C. in one hour.” He nodded to each of us in dismissal before turning off the screen and heading up front to sit in the cockpit.

The serious expressions were wiped away from my friends’ faces as soon after Tony finished his spiel. They began talking and laughing with one another; even Steve looked calm and collected as he joked with Sam.

I didn’t know how they could be so calm about everything. I felt like I was going to be sick. In one hour I was going to be sneaking my way through a building full of people who want to take me and make me some superweapon. And if they attacked us, I wouldn’t have a choice but to fight back. Could I do what I needed to do to protect myself, or Loki? My head swam at the troubling thoughts. I must have looked a little green to Loki, who put his hand on my arm to get my attention. “Are you feeling well?” he asked quietly, searching my face for any signs of weakness or illness.

Nope. Freaking out, actually. But he didn’t need to know that. He needed to focus as much as I did, maybe more, to pick up my newbie slack. Taking a deep breath, I ran my hands over the smooth dark green leather of my suit. It felt more like a costume standing next to such professional badasses, but it would protect me better than what I had worn the last two times I’d been forced to fight Hydra. That was something, at least. “Yeah, yeah. Totally fine. Just heading into a building full of men who want to kidnap me and wipe my brain to turn me into the next Winter Soldier. And I can only manipulate natural shit, so unless these people are really into indoor gardening I’m useless. Super calm and in control,” I rambled, inwardly cringing with each word that tumbled from my lips. So believable.

Loki reached down and pulled one of my new, lethal-looking obsidian daggers that he had gifted me after I Hulked out on the last one. It was longer and more lethal-looking than the one from Tony with a stained black wooden handle and slightly curved blade. They both fit easily into the holsters that Tony had put onto the outer thighs of my suit. He spun it expertly on his palm before holding it out to me handle-first with a serious look furrowing his brow. “If nothing else, you have these. And I will not leave your side. I will protect you."

I took the dagger from him and slipped it back onto my thigh, tapping my fingers against the handle as I looked around the jet. Just because I had new pretty knives didn’t mean that I wanted to have to use them. But they did offer some small form of comfort in potential protection, as did Loki pressing his hand onto the small of my back, rubbing small circles over the supple leather unseen by everyone else with my back to the wall of the jet. He had seen so many fights and battles and wars, I just had to trust that he knew what he was doing. He had been fought in actual wars before, so hopefully, this was nothing to him. He was at least acting like it was a walk in the park.

Trusting sucks.

~~~

“Okay everybody, touchdown in 30 seconds. Comm’s in and game faces on,” Tony called.

I took my earpiece out from my pocket and shoved it in my ear, secretly hoping that the pencil eraser sized piece of tech wouldn’t get fall out of my ear. If it did, at least I still had my watch on me as a backup. Everyone’s murmured voices were now amplified in my head, including Tony’s after Nat easily landed the jet in the middle of a park, “We got your back, kid. Head out.”

I glanced at everyone one last time, trying to absorb some of the courage and bravado that they now readily displayed. Steve winked at me before tilting his head for me to leave, pulling his shield off of the floor and slipping it over his arm.

“Let’s go, girl,” Nat called into my ear, and I turned and jogged down the open hatch behind her.

I couldn’t see Loki, but I felt his hand in between my shoulder blades as we both caught up to her outside the building we’d identified as housing Hydra. The three of us pressed against the outer wall, sticking to the shadows as we waited for the others to make their move.

“Honey, I’m home!” Tony shouted, and explosions vibrated through the building against my back. Always so dramatic.

That was our signal. We rounded the side of the building and Loki, now visible, stepped ahead of us and used his magic to silently open the locked cellar door protruding from the ground. Natasha moved in first, pulling out a gun and holding it before her. Loki then disappeared once again, and he nudged me down the stairs in front of him. Being touched by an invisible man was way too weird, but I didn’t have time to dwell on it.

“I have a bad feeling about this,” Steve said, his voice sounding small in my ear, the explosions having died down. He was right. It was too quiet on their end.

We continued on our way, forming a silent line as we three snuck from room to room to reach where the brains of the team, AKA Tony and Bruce, decided the computers might be kept. If that intel was correct. And if there weren’t a million guards in our way. And if this wasn’t a trap. If, if, if. I was practically vibrating with nerves as I trailed Nat, who looked cool as a cucumber. All in a day’s work for a Russian super spy.

“I agree, Solo. Nobody’s here,” Tony replied skeptically.

“Should we abort or...?” Natasha asked as we walked into a large empty room with several doors leading off of it. The servers should be in the room farthest from where we entered. Almost there and then I could breathe.

But I agreed with the others. Everything just felt wrong. My skin crawled with unease. If this was a Hydra base then we would’ve run into someone by now. Somebody would’ve responded to us blowing down their door and storming the castle with so much firepower. And if this building wasn’t being used by Hydra, why hadn’t anybody at least called the cops about our blowing things up inside the very populated city? They hadn’t exactly been subtle about it.

A flashing red light caught my eye as it slid by us into the middle of the room.

“Bomb!” Natasha shouted.

A heavy, invisible body knocked into me, cradling my head to cool leather and throwing me to the ground beneath it seconds before an explosion rang out through the room. Smoke and fire and light filled the space instantly, disorienting me. I barely heard Loki shouting my name as he appeared on top of me, looking unharmed but alert as he pulled me to my feet and shoved me into the closest dark doorway after doing a quick scan to check me for any obvious injuries. Bullets peppered the wall across from me, forcing me to move away from the door until I could get my bearings.

“Found ‘em!” Natasha shouted into the comms, and I heard her grunting as she did her best to handle whoever had thrown that grenade. She was more than likely responsible for some of the gunshots that echoed loudly throughout the enclosed space. Loki’s sounds of struggle sounded in my ear, and I couldn’t ignore the urge I had to help them.

I made to get up and leave the dark room--heck if I was going to cower in the corner while they fought--when I felt a hand around my mouth and my waist, effectively trapping my arms to my sides and silencing me. I bit down on the hand covering my mouth, tasting copper and sweat. Out of nowhere, a fist collided with my jaw, making me groan from the explosive force behind it. My fingers twisted by my side, and one of my daggers went into my waiting hand. The man holding me grunted in pain as I stabbed down into his thigh. Just because they had me restrained didn’t mean that I was helpless. I left it there when he fell, twisting around to strain to see in the darkness for any more attackers coming my way.

“We’ve got some big black bad-guy looking cars rolling in!” Sam shouted.

“Kid, get out of there!” Tony screamed desperately.

“I’m a little busy!” I cursed, another set of arms yanking me back and restraining me against a large body. There was a pinch in my neck that spread ice through my veins, and I felt my limbs instantly get heavy. Not good.

I struggled, swinging at them the best I could with my remaining blade, but one man handily took it from my hand and tossed it to the floor. Fingers dug into my ear and ripped out the earpiece, which was instantly lost in the darkness. Another punch landed in my stomach and I doubled over, coughing and spitting up a mouth full of blood that I’d earned from the earlier punch to my jaw. My feet were kicked out from beneath me, and I told myself to get up from where I was sprawled heavily on the floor. Just gotta put one foot beneath me, then the other.But my arms and legs were so heavy. And I was so tired. I tried to push through the haze fogging over my mind, but my fingers only twitched uselessly in response to my commands.

“Loki!” I cried weakly, using my last bit of strength to call out to him as desperation and reality sank in. It was an ambush, these men were taking me, and I needed him to fulfill the promise he refused to make just three days earlier. I lost the battle against my heavy eyelids just as I felt someone grab my hands and drag me across the floor.

~~~

White-hot electricity surged through my body and ripped me out of blissful unconsciousness. A scream tried to force its way out of my mouth, but it couldn’t get around my clenched teeth and something rubber wedged between my jaws. When I tried to thrash my head around to escape the agony coursing through me I was stopped by something metal covering the left side of my face and wrapping around my skull, holding my head absolutely still. My hands clenched the armrests beneath me as I did everything I could to just ride out the pain that battered my body. It was the only choice I had.

After the torment stopped I slumped forward, my head fully supported by the restraint around my neck and the metal around my head. I pried my eyes open to look around at my surroundings, trying to get my bearings. An older man in a white lab coat with stark-white thinning hair and hard eyes pulled the weird contraption off my face. Behind him were five men holding rifles pointed in my direction. We were stuck in a concrete, windowless room with iron bars over the only visible doorway. Underground, maybe? Either way, they didn’t want to be found. Wouldn’t blame them. Torturing a woman isn’t a good look for anybody and tends to raise alarm.

Either I was too exhausted or there wasn’t anything around for me to manipulate, because when I tried to reach out with my powers I could barely feel them humming beneath my skin, let alone find something to use as a weapon against them. It was a foolish thought. I was still strapped to the chair even if I could move my head around now. Needed to get my arms and legs free before I tried to think of any heroic escape plans.

Still, I trained my glare on the middle-aged man who strolled into the room flanked by an extra four guards, looking far too pleased with himself with his cheap suit and ugly thin black cane. As he got closer I could make out a design etched onto the cane of a skull with tentacles coming out of it. Hydra.

“Jennifer, I heard you were awake. We’re so happy that you could join us today,” he sneered, voice sickly sweet as he stopped an arm’s length in front of me.

I tried to lunge out at him, feeling my sweaty, grimy skin peel away from the cold metal chair beneath me as my back bowed against the restraints. Looking down quickly, I could just see my bare knees at the edge of my vision. A quick wiggle check confirmed that I was just in my sports bra and boy short underwear, so at least they had only taken my suit, boots, and watch--ruining any hopes I had of Tony using it to track me. Oh well. I could kick their asses in my undies, no problem.

“We here at Hydra are so excited to get you going on the right path. Tony Stark and his Avengers were not good for you. They held you back. They coddled you,” he droned, circling my chair slowly. “But we want you to be the very best version of yourself. To reach your full potential. We need your help to make the world as it should be. Isn’t that what you want, too?” he asked, stopping in front of me.

Get me out of these restraints and I’ll show you what I want, asshole.

He shook his head and walked away, waving his hand dismissively at the man in the lab coat. “Give her the serum, Wood. They’re looking for her and we need to have her camera ready.”

Serum? I followed the maybe-doctor--Wood, I guess--with my eyes, watching him warily as he took a syringe full of green liquid from a metal table next to me. He looked nervous as he approached me, and I growled deep in my throat when his hand came towards my arm; I couldn’t do much more with the rubber bite guard still in my mouth. The cold metal tip of a gun pressed against my temple, digging into my skin threateningly. I froze against the threat of death, silently seething as I felt the bite of the needle into my upper arm.

My blood boiled inside of me starting from the injection site. I’ve never felt my heart beat so fast in my life, and I would’ve sworn that all the oxygen had been sucked out of the room. I knew my eyes were open, but I could only see blackness as I screamed around the bite guard. Whatever they had stuck me with felt like it was dissolving all of my muscles in acid, and it was too much for my body to handle after being hooked up to what felt like an entire power grid earlier. My rigid body went limp as I gave in to the sweet relief of oblivion.

~~~

I was unceremoniously dropped onto a hard concrete floor, the force of it knocking my head into the ground and rousing me. Someone hauled me up until I was kneeling and held in that position by a collar wrapped around my throat attached to the wall, if the chains clinking behind me were any indication of my current restraint situation.

I kept my eyes closed as I knelt on the cold floor, doing my best to get as much information as I could from my surroundings without letting Hydra know that I was paying attention. It seemed like something Nat would do, and she would know how to get out of this situation. Why hadn’t I listened to her more? I could feel warm air blowing against my exposed skin, so I was still in my underwear. My hands were tied up behind my back with very thick handcuffs, and I felt cold metal around my ankles as I sat on them. So all of that needed to be handled before I could do anything else.

Try as I might, I couldn’t access my powers. I felt them, barely pulsing inside of me. It was like there was a sheet covering them; I could feel them stirring and working within me, but when I tried to pull them to the surface something was in the way. Which meant if I did manage to get out of these chains I was going to have to fistfight my way out. Not the best option, considering all the guns I'd seen, but it was all I had to work with.

That wasn’t going to go so well, judging by the aches and pains riddling me. Maybe adrenaline would kick in and keep the worst of it at bay until I could get out of here. But I didn’t even know where here was, or how many people there were between me and the exit, or how to get to that exit. I just had to wait. Wait for more information to present itself to me or for my team to come in and get me out of here. Hopefully either one would happen sooner rather than later.

“Get her up.” It was the voice of the man in the suit from earlier. Great, Malfoy was back.

A fist slammed into my nose and hot blood gushed from it into my mouth and down my chin. I coughed, opening my eyes in shock and pain as I tried to lean forward to keep from choking. The cuff around my neck stopped me, forcing me to lean back and tilt my head to the side instead, ignoring the sting in my jaw as the metal collar dug into the bone.

“Morning, princess. We’re going to make a movie for your friends, and you’re going to sit there and be a good girl. Or else we’ll make life exceptionally hard for you,” I looked up at the suited man to see him gesturing to a large muscled man next to him, “and you don’t want your Avengers to see that.”

I spat out the blood that had pooled into my mouth on the floor at his feet, shoving back every ounce of pain wracking my body as I glared daggers at him. He looked like a cheesy movie villain, with his three-piece suit and tacky cane that was just for show. He only smirked at my attitude, moving to stand beside me and revealing the video camera and men set up behind him. I kept my eyes on it, breathing heavily as I tried to ignore the extreme discomfort working against me. One man went up and turned the camera on. After some fiddling and adjusting of the equipment, the cameraman gave Malfoy next to me the thumbs up to begin.

“Tony Stark. We know that you and your team are out looking for this young woman. As you can see, she is in our care-”

I spat more blood at his feet, earning me a hard smack on my exposed back with his cane that was definitely not just for show. I did my best not to reveal how much it hurt, especially if this video was going to be sent to Tony and the gang, but I couldn’t help the hiss of pain that slipped out between my clenched teeth.

“As I was saying, she is in our care. If you do not stop now, we will have to take it out on her. Each man that you take,” another blow slammed down on my back, “each man that you kill,” another into my ribs, “will cause her more pain.”

“Fuck them up!” I burst out, permitting them to do what they needed to do. I knew that they weren’t going to stop trying to find me. Tony and Loki would not let them just keep me. Especially not after this cinematic masterpiece, showcasing just how much care they had put into keeping me prisoner. I probably looked like death warmed over, kneeling in my dirty underwear, covered in grime, bruises, and blood, my hair tangled and disgusting. But I would rather be brutally tortured with the hope of rescue than face the idea that they may choose not to come for me ‘for my own good’ or some heroic bullshit like saving me a couple of bruises. I could take it. And if I couldn’t, I needed to fake it, pretend that I was okay and still fighting, or they wouldn’t be able to focus enough to get me out of this hell hole.

Brawny man hit me like a freight train, and I swear I heard something crack as my eye exploded in my skull. My cry echoed throughout the barren room, ringing in my ears along with my heartbeat. It was immediately too painful for me to open that eye, so I just stared in a pained daze into the pitch-black lens in front of me with the good one, trying to force down nausea that roiled in my stomach and still look unfazed. Judging from the sorry sight I made in the flipped viewfinder, it wasn’t working so well.

“By the time you get to her, she won’t be yours any longer. She’ll be Hydra’s,” Malfoy-that nickname was growing on me-said gleefully and with promise.

“Oh, shu-”

My snark was cut off with Brawny’s boot in my ribs. It sent me coughing again. I writhed around on my knees as I tried to lean forward to breathe but the collar around my neck stopped me from seeking that relief. I lost count of how many times Malfoy whipped the cane against my back, again and again, the pain radiating through my body until it became all I was. Just waves and explosions of pain storming through me, setting my nerve endings on fire and stealing my breath away. Hot tears streamed down my face, mixing with dirt and drying blood in a sticky mess, but I was powerless to stop them.

I wasn’t going to break. I wasn’t going to break. I wasn’t going to break.

I’m stronger than this.

I clenched my eyes shut against it and, unable to take any more after an untold number of hits on my now bleeding and raw flesh, let out a pained scream that felt like it was tearing my throat in two.

“Good girl,” the man whispered, and the beating mercifully stopped.

I slumped as much as I could with the various chains holding me in a kneeling position, panting and crying silently through the pain. The telltale bite of a needle registered in my upper arm and I passed out seconds later.

~~~

“Tony Stark is your enemy. Wanda Maximoff is your enemy. Vision is your enemy. Steve Rogers is your enemy. Samuel Wilson is your enemy. Natasha Romanoff is your enemy. Thor of Asgard is your enemy. Bruce Banner is your enemy. Tony Stark is your enemy-”

It kept repeating nonstop. I sat there, half-naked in a pitch-black room with what felt like concrete floors and walls and an iron door, listening to it. I could repeat every change of inflection and pitch in the recorded voice after having listened to it for who knows how long. I wasn’t sure how much time had gone by; I hadn’t seen the sun or a clock since they kidnapped me, but I had fitfully slept in this dingy room twice without them stabbing me full of knock-out drugs. Did two sleeps equal two days? Hell if I knew.

They were trying to break me. Between this insane mantra, no food or water, the beatings when I would get lippy on my way to the electrocution sessions, and the electrocution sessions themselves, I was already so worn down. My mind and body were spent. It was harder and harder to listen to the voice in my head denying everything I heard when I was just struggling to keep the pain and hunger and sleep-deprivation at bay. My mouth was dry, my head was constantly pounding to the steady drum of my heartbeat, and I couldn’t stop shaking as I sat there curled up around myself. To say I wasn’t in the best shape would be an understatement.

I didn’t even have the dignity of clothing to comfort me. Keeping me in my disgusting underwear and taking away my necklace, Michael’s necklace, must have been another way to try to tear me down. I would lie and say it wasn’t bothering me, but I kept reaching for it, the desire to smooth my thumb over the worn whorls ingrained in me over the years. Instead, when I reached for it, I felt the cold metal of the collar they used to restrain me when I left my cell. It rubbed against my shoulders and jaw with each movement I made, and I could add that layer of raw skin to my list of injuries.

But the one person they didn’t manipulate me against was Loki. His name wasn’t on repeat from the speakers above me. His face wasn’t in the videos I was forced to watch, listing all of the negative deeds the Avengers had done. I guess Tony was right, after all, when he said that they didn’t know that he had been on our side. With me. He wouldn’t hurt me. He wasn’t my enemy. I just needed to hold onto that and the tiny sliver of hope that he was working tirelessly to find me, rip these assholes to pieces, and take what was his. He had promised that he wasn’t going to leave me. He’d broken that promise, too…

“Up and at ‘em, sunshine. Boss wants ya,” a gruff voice broke through my thoughts as blinding light filled my cell from the door yanking open.

I blinked against the sudden brightness, stumbling to my bare feet when I was yanked up by a meaty hand wrapped around my upper arm. My ribs, which were at least dislocated if not broken, protested and forced me into taking shallow breaths as I was dragged through the gray stone walls of my new hell. My eye--one was still much too swollen to open--darted around as I tried to find a way out or a weapon I could use or anything that would help me as I walked the almost familiar route to the room where the scientist, Wood, seemed to always be lurking. Dude needed a new hobby other than waiting around to inject me with mystery concoctions.

This time Malfoy was waiting for me with Wood and his typical entourage of armed guards. I kept my gaze on cane-man as I was slammed into the chair, the restraints instantly sliding around my throat, ankles, and wrists. It wasn’t worth it to fight against them anymore. I needed to save my strength and not reopen the wounds rubbed into my ankles and wrists so that I could beat this man senseless once I figured out how to get out of here.

“We have a new test for you, Jennifer. It won’t take long, and then we’ll be back to our regularly scheduled programming, so to speak. Wood, if you please,” cane-man smiled menacingly, waving the scientist over to me.

I clenched my teeth as he plunged yet another needle into my arm, pumping a cool liquid into my veins that instantly settled over my mind and body like a fog. Damn it, everything was so heavy.

My body relaxed into the steel chair beneath me despite the twinge of pain the action brought to the open cuts and bruises on my back. I lazily looked up to the man with the cane, head lolling in my restraints, watching him thoughtlessly as he grinned down at me.

“There, that’s better. All nice and relaxed.” He patted my cheek harshly, forcing pain to shoot through my system as it jostled my swollen eye socket. “Now, Jennifer, will you try something for me? I want you to take that chair,” he pointed to a metal folding chair in an iron cage in the corner that I hadn’t noticed when I walked in, “and crush it for me. That’s all. And then you can get some food and water and some sleep. Doesn’t that sound nice?”

It did sound nice. My stomach gnawed at my backbone painfully at the mere thought of food, which I hadn’t had since I’d gotten here. And my parched mouth couldn’t even salivate at the thought of water. Probably a bad sign. But I couldn’t bend metal. There were some natural bits in there, but not nearly enough for me to manipulate.

“I can’t,” I whispered in defeat, leaning my head back against the headrest with a sigh. I was just so tired…

“You can. Just try,” he urged, patting my hand.

I groaned, lifting my heavy head and looked at the chair. I reached for my abilities beneath my skin, and I was shocked when they responded more strongly than they ever have. It was like a barely controlled inferno raged within me, aching to be let out. It felt like power. My bloodshot eye focused on the box, and I felt its presence in my mind just as I did a stone or a fallen log. I could feel it taking up space in the world even with my eyes closed. My right hand clenched into a fist, and with a loud bang and screech of metal, the cage twisted into itself until there only a gnarled mess of iron in its place.

I shouldn’t have been able to do that. Is this what they had been doing to me with the injections?

“How?” I asked wearily, looking up to the triumphant man next to me.

He smiled--not even an evil smile this time--and nodded to Wood, who busied himself behind me. “I told you that we would unlock your full potential, Jennifer. Now lie back, and we’ll get you the help you need.”

My good eye was obscured as the electro-shock mask slipped back onto my head, but I didn’t have the energy to struggle even as the rubber bite-guard was shoved into my mouth and thousands of volts were surging through my system.

It’d end soon enough.

[e1ana]

THA updates/character sheets

omg two posts in a day what is this shit

i just feel like i should give a heads up about THA and whats going on and shit. i wont be posting anything for it on A03 for a hooooot minute. like i said in the last post, i’ve been really dry when it comes to THA content. sorry if that bums you out or whatever, but i really need to take it easy with that book for a bit. 

h o w e v e r

my brain just will not let me friggin rest. so, i decided to just do something that’s not really creative but also lets me feel some kind of relief. im gonna make character templates in the style of the BNHA fandom website (with a few exceptions/different thing). I wont make one for every single person, but ill make them for most of class 1-A and some villains. 

there may also be a few introduced characters, so ig you'll get to meet them first!

the first one is my fave sparky queen, Emiko Kaminari!

(fair warning. its suuuuper long.)

BIOGRAPHICAL INFORMATION:

Name: Emiko Kaminari (Meaning: Emiko - blessing/kindness. Kaminari - thunder) Birthday: August 3rd Age: 15 Gender: Female (She/Her) Height: 4’11” or 149 cm Hair color: Blonde  Eye Color: Yellow Zodiac Sign: Leo Quirk: Technokinesis

STATUS:

Status: Alive Occupation: Student Affiliation: UA High School

OVERVIEW

Emiko Kaminari is a Class 1-A student at UA High School.

Appearance: 

Emiko has bright yellow hair cut in a short bob (a bit like if you smoothed out Denki’s hair). She has distinct bangs that have two long side pieces and several short pieces across her forehead, Her eyes are yellow and flatter on top and rounder at the bottom with distinctly long and straight lashes. She has a tiny birthmark (just larger than a freckle) under her left eye. She inherited her mother’s ear shape, but she can’t use them like her mom can (they can’t extend/plug into anything).  She is incredibly short despite her relatively tall dad, and hopes to grow one day. She has a relatively small chest and thin waist, giving her a lanky but athletic body. Her legs are just slightly too long for her body, adding to her sinewy appearance.

She isn’t a fan of uniform at all, so she only wears it to classes. She alternates between wearing the pants and skirts. When she wears the pants, she wears them high waisted and tucked in. She also takes off her overcoat often (in both outfits), just carrying around and putting it on when she gets yelled at.

Her prototype hero costume pays homage to her dad and mom, but is mostly her own. She wears a black windbreaker jacket with deceptively deep pockets. This also doubles as a shock resistant sheet. Under this, she wears a black sports bra and tight-ish pants with like a MILLION pockets. She’s a slut for functional fashion! She wears black platform sneakers (think FILAs, but not brand name hfjwfkfbwb). They lace up a bit like hiking boots, but the hooks are removable devices.

Personality:

Emiko is super spunky! She’s cheerful and goofy, but not sugary sweet. She has some edge to her, but she’s a very talkative and open person. She’s absolutely obsessed with edgy memes/vines/ ANYTHING internet. She likes to make jokes often, which can sometimes get her into a bit of trouble. She’s very witty and has a sharp tongue, but that’s often just used for humor. She likes to make friends with as many people as possible, but she has no problem getting downright mean with people who mess with her. Her BIGGEST hate is being looked down on. If you underestimate her… look out. Generally, she’s a very friendly person though.

People often see Emiko for exactly what she is because she’s such an open book. Even quiet and broody people like to hang around and socialize with her. If anything, people see her as far more bubbly, since she doesn't like to bust out the mean Emiko. 

ABILITIES:

Overall abilities: 

She doesn’t have a designated fighting style, but she loves to dart and jump around. She’s able to move pretty fast and often jumps around her opponents to confuse them. She also has damn near perfect aim, so this can be used for striking different pressure points.

Since her quirk can’t really be deployed well without technology, she uses several support items to help her. With her Buttons, she can send massive shock waves of electricity wherever they land (including people). She can also communicate with people even if she’s the only one with a communications device.  She uses the electricity from her devices to immobilize her targets or generally just fuck them up. She can also manipulate electricity as long as its expelled from a device.

Emiko has SO many support items:

‘Buttons’ - basically tiny robots with no function. It’s basically just a button with an electric current. She can use them as a distraction or something of course. But Emiko can use her quirk to stick them to people or herself and deploy insane amounts of electricity. Combine that with her precise aim and you’ve got a stun gun that can target specific areas of the body AND control the output of electricity.

TeleCom - This device works kind of like an AirPod but it doesn’t need bluetooth. Its attached just under her ear. It allows her to use her quirk to send messages to her allied (or foes!)

FingerGuns - Just like her dad, Emiko is one funny motherfucker. With these gloves, she can expel the electricity from the devices in whichever direction she points her fingers.

Goggles - These high tech goggles and quickly give and receive information about her allies and opponents. She can use them if she doesn’t know anything about her team/enemy and gather info. Like GoogleGlass but WAY better.

Quirk:

 Emiko’s quirk Technokinesis pretty much gives her the ability to do nearly anything with an electronic device. She can use it to hack whatever device it is, move things around, explode them, or simply use the interface hands free. She can control many devices at once (probably like up to 30 as of right now). As far as explosion goes, it's mostly just electric sparks with a little heat, but obviously there’s damage from any debris (especially if its come in contact with the sparks). Her quirk has a pretty severe drawback though. Emiko suffers drowsiness and decreased cognitive functions with extended regular use of her quirk (like Denki but like 10x less stupid). She also suffers from random severe seizures, but that doesn’t happen too often. 

Super Moves: 

ButtonBlast: Emiko throws a hand full of buttons in a random direction and sticks them to whatever they land on. She then sends them into a massive electrical explosion, ranging from 100 volts to 100,000 volts (will get stronger with training/time!). This is pretty much enough to fry the brain of any unlucky person to get tackled by one of these. It also blows out any device in range, leaving only the ones she controls in use.

BrainFry: Emiko throws a single button with pinpoint accuracy, landing it at her target’s weak points or exposed areas, even while they move. She delivers a quick but hearty shock, rendering her opponent immobile and unable to function.

TeleCom Confusion: Emiko uses her power of music and stupid puns and her quirk together. She confuses her opponents with rambling on and on about someone. She can also blast music directly into their ears and confuse them.

TechnoScream: Emiko + Madosha use their powers together. While Emiko has on noise canceling headphones, Screaming Shadow yells directly into her TeleCom. Emiko then sends this pitch directly into the heads of her opponents and lets it take effect.

STATS

Power: 4/5 Speed: 4/5 Technique: 3/5 Intelligence: 3/5 Cooperativeness: 4/5 Edgy Meme Knowledge: 6/6

Equipment:

Buttons: These bad boys are tiny, but they pack a punch! She has two sizes - one about the size of a dime and some smaller than that. They’re basically constantly short circuiting devices. Emiko can deploy these at any time, releasing high voltage bursts of electricity or explode them. They’re made of a high grade copper and aluminum alloy. They’re thick but hollow with a simple incomplete circuit on the inside.

TeleCom: ...literally just google how AirPods work, and take away the bad parts. Its essentially an AirPod, but it's a flat disk with a strong adhesive on one side.

FingerGuns: The same general workings as the Buttons, but they don't detach. They’re nestled in the fingers of her gloves and activated when she makes a finger gun symbol.

Battles/Events:

Lunchroom Attack

STUDENTS vs villains

Canon ‘Fun’ Facts:

She frequently bugs her friends phones and plants memes in their important documents.

She has pretty damn bad ADHD.

She once dropped her meds in front of Aizawa and asked if he wanted to ‘pop a dirty blue pillie.’ She had two days of detention for that one.

Definitely has a crush on someone in her class.

Her best friend is a class 1-B student named Hansuke Amaiko. She’s known him since they were basically babies

[wesleyv21-blog]

One Week Down!

¡Hola, todos! Sending out good vibes from Quito!

Damn has a lot happened this weekend! Perhaps both the most exciting and nerve-wracking part of the experience so far has finally come: I moved in with my homestay family! But there’s quite a story leading up to this point so I’ll start from the beginning.

Friday was taken up by one-on-one interviews with our program director, Faba, during which we just checked in about our medical information and how we’re doing so far. Since there are 24 of us, and each interview took about 10 minutes, and somehow we fell behind at some point, this took almost half the day. When it was finally done around 1:30, a big group of us went out for tapas and had quite the time. It will be our last meal together for some time, because at around 4:00 on Friday, our host families came to pick us up from our hotel!

I was quite the ball of nerves and excitement while waiting for my family to arrive. Hell, we all were! All I had to go on was a letter they wrote me describing how excited they were to welcome me into their home, as well as a photo of the family and some info about them that the program provided. Well, the funny thing was that my family did not show up on Friday. The whole family had taken a weeklong vacation to the beaches of Esmeraldas, a province to the northwest of Quito that is a looooooong car ride from the city lol probably 6-8 hours with traffic. So, one of their good friends who is hosting another student and who lives close by picked me up. She was so nice and hospitable, feeding us cake, tea, and a scrumptious dinner. She is quite experienced in hosting foreign scholars, and in fact I ended up meeting two additional students from other universities and doing other stuff in the country that were wrapping up their time in Ecuador. My temporary host mom has a daughter and a son around our age, so all 6 of us ended up going out to a house party after dinner. Oh, one cool thing about my temporary host family is that the father’s brother is an ex-president of Ecuador who is also a famous economist. In addition to his famous books he’s written, my temporary host mom showed us a picture album with the whole family which was amazing and cute.

Now, this house party was something else. Getting there took around 40 minutes, as we had to drive out of Quito to Tumbaco, a little town out to the west. Let’s just say that the young Quiteño upper-class plays hard. First of all the estate was enormous, surrounded by this huge wall that enclosed probably three or four buildings on this large piece of land. Behind the mansion was this patio that was replete with a huge grill, a hammock, access to the kitchen, comfortable furniture, and even security cameras lol. There were many young men and only four young women including my temporary host sister. The men were going hard, forcing each other to drink, smoking cigarettes, forcing each other to drink more, running around all over the place, fighting over control of the music, grabbing the women as if they owned them. I had heard from one of the program assistants during our safety lecture that in Ecuadorian society, men are under such pressures from patriarchy that they vent all their pent-up emotions by drinking excessively. I don’t know enough to claim that this is what I witnessed, but it is a tempting conclusion to draw. Of course what I saw at the party is also heavily influenced by class, since these kids (my age) have the leisure and money to drink hard on a Friday night. It should also be said that this entire weekend is a dry weekend; bars are closed and you can’t buy alcohol anywhere. The reason? There was a national referendum today, and I take it that for all elections, since voting is mandated by law, alcohol disappears so as to ensure people’s faithful compliance. Nonetheless these individuals had procured alcohol from somewhere and were indulging. The most fun I had was swapping party stories with this one guy who ended up getting so drunk he couldn’t stand by the end of the night, and talking with this truly intercultural young man who spoke English, Spanish, and German, had studied abroad almost as much as he had in Ecuador, and who has plans to continue his education in Europe. One other thing I learned was that marijuana is super taboo here, way different from the states lol.

Saturday morning, my friend’s host family dropped me off at my real host family, and I finally got to meet them! Their house is also enormous. Just like every other house I’ve seen in Pichincha province (which includes Quito and the surrounding towns I’ve visited, like Pifo and Tababela), their house is enclosed in a tall wall covered in spikes. It has three stories, including a large patio and a home office for the parents’ travel agency they’ve owned for over 20 years. The sitting rooms are spacious and filled with cool art, the kitchen is small but intimate, and the house is super well located: just a few minutes’ walk to Parque La Carolina, El Jardín Mall, and our class building. Two parents, a daughter, two sons, and their grandmother all live in this incredible house. There’s even room for a visiting aunt who lives in London who is also very charming. In addition, a lovely Japanese woman named Ayumi rents office space and works as a travel agent for Japanese tourists. Her office is right next to my room; she’s also super friendly! Everyone is so welcoming and nice! We talked, watched Black Mirror in Spanish lol, ate delish traditional Ecuadorian food, compared the Spanish and English in different countries across the world, and went out the shopping mall. More on the food. It’s all soo yummy. There’s like a mini corn-on-the-cob that’s called choclo, and it���s usually served with a slice of cheese. They brought out a cacao fruit, which looks really cool, and when you cut it open you expose the brown seeds that are covered in a white slime. You can suck on the seeds and ingest the white slime, which sounds kinda gross but is actually a good mixture of sweetness and tartness. Oritos are mini bananas that are super sweet. Habas reminded me of edamame, as they’re kinda a bean-looking food whose shell you bust open to reveal a kinda bland inside that you can scoop out and eat. It’s really good with just a pinch of salt added to it! The main course of lunch featured a sardine flank that was served cold in a red sauce with tiny round potatoes. At breakfast there was thick papaya juice which was really good, and with lunch there was this sparkling apple juice that somehow had no sugar whatsoever in it. Tonight for dinner I had pastel de plátano, which is exactly what is sounds like: a little pan-seared cake made of smooshed sweet plantains called maduros. Oh I guess should I explain how meals work lol. Lunch is the main course of the day, usually consisting of 3-4 dishes served around 1-2 pm. Breakfast and dinner are both very light. Coffee or tea is usually served at both, and I’ve had grilled cheese sandwiches served at both as well lol. At breakfast, they bring out the rich fruits, whether in slices or juiced. Dinner, if served at all, tends to be pretty late, like around 8 pm. Needless to say everything I’ve eaten so far is delish(;

But I have to say that moving in with the host family has been one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. Saturday was one of the longest days of my life. I’m overwhelmed still from being here and being so far away from what’s comfortable; add to that the awkwardness of getting to know an established family unit so intimately and the mindfuck of re-socializing your brain to speak only another language. There was a lot of time to myself Saturday, which was hard. But, it was also very fun and I can’t say I regret it. I knew going in that this weekend would be the hardest, but once I get over this hump then it should be relatively smooth sailing. On the positive side, they treat me very well and I can hold my own in conversations with three generations of native speakers. Think about the differences in pronunciation that accompany age in English-speaking lands; well, I’m slowly building the satisfaction of mastering that in Spanish as well. I also get along very well with both sons, which is cool to think that I’m making international friends! It’s a long journey I’ve just begun, but I wouldn’t go back for anything.

Another cool thing was a conversation I had with the youngest son about voting today. This won’t be his first time voting (that came in Lenín Moreno’s election last year), but he nonetheless had some cool perspectives on the referendum. Voting is mandated by law for all those above age 18 and is optional for those aged 16 and 17. If you do not vote, you incur a steep fine. In addition, upon voting, one receives a certificate that one needs to do official citizen business like procure a passport or visa. The referendum consists of 7 questions that will amend the Constitution. These questions are:

1.       Would prohibit those accused of corruption from ever serving in public office (Ecuador has a long history of political corruption, yet the last straw in adding this question to the referendum was the recent imprisonment of former vice president Jorge Glas on corruption charges)

2.       Would limit all elected officials to only 2 terms in the same office (brought about by the last president, Rafael Correa, who changed the constitution to allow himself to run indefinitely)

3.       Would replace all current members of the Citizens’ Participation and Social Control Council (the 5th branch of government here) and replace them all with new appointees (to flush out the last remaining allies of president Correa)

4.       Would remove statute of limitation for sex crimes against minors (due to over 1,000 cases of sex crimes against minors brought to court over the last 2 years)

5.       Would prohibit mining in protected areas, untouchable zones, and urban centers (mining is on the rise in Ecuador, yet this question might prove decisive for the young industry’s future)

6.       Would get rid of the law of plusvalía, which essentially treats the sale of property of any kind as speculation, meaning that the seller must pay like 70% of the revenue from the sale to the state as tax

7.       Would expand the protected areas of the Yasuní National Park, the single most biodiverse place on earth that also sadly houses much of Ecuador’s oil reserves (this question would thus prohibit future oil drilling in Yasuní)

The general populace was expected to vote to pass all of them in what many see as a middle finger to the last president, Rafael Correa, and a vote of confidence for Moreno’s young regime. Yet that’s not how my host brother necessarily sees it. He doesn’t support the current regime, and he certainly didn’t support the last. According to him, both presidents have raised taxes, especially on imports, which has raised the cost of living significantly. In addition, neither president supports/ed policies that are favorable toward foreigners, something he doesn’t like. His perspective is quite interesting and will need to be investigated further. Another interesting thing about the referendum came when Sebastián told me that many voters don’t understand the wording of the questions, not to mention all the annexes that are on the flipside of the ballot page. Very interesting. Also last night I watched a government news channel ahead of the vote today. After going into detail about each of the questions, the focus turned to the actual process itself. Even though this is the 11th national referendum since the return to democracy in 1979, there are some new and exciting steps being implemented in this referendum. For example, there is a new electronic rapid-response exit-poll-type technology designed to report trustworthy results ahead of the official tally. Lots of domestic and international observers were invited to oversee the polls. Something that I guess isn’t new is that all ballots are translated into indigenous languages, and for the many hard-to-access communities scattered across Ecuador, the government helicopters ballots in so people can still vote. Another highly promoted feature on this program was the accessibility of all voting stations so that people with different abilities can still vote. The temptation at looking at this at first was to dismiss it as government propaganda, which it no doubt is. After all, in the U.S., elections are a piece of cake and no one ever has reason to question the outcome (except Trump lol). But, I had to catch myself. This is a country whose democracy is relatively young. Building up these institutions is key for achieving long-lasting social justice. Who am I to come in and laugh at things that Ecuadorians take pride in? Nonviolent, inclusive elections aren’t a given. So, I learned a lot more than I thought I would watching that program last night.

Today I accompanied my host brother, Matías, as he went and voted. It was quite the process to get to his assigned voting place. We had to take a bus probably a mile or so (which, in Quito traffic, took about 30 minutes) and walk to the destination. Although we didn’t know at first which street the school was on, so we were walking around asking people where it was. Finally, we found it, and I watched as Matías showed his I.D., was handed the piece of paper with each question labeled and color-coded, walked over to a schooldesk on which stood a cardboard trifold to act as a privacy shield, and deposited the ballot in the cardboard box in which was cut a slit to slip in the ballot. And home we went. At night, nos reunimos para cenar y mirar los comentarios a cerca de la votación. As expected, all measures passed. Now the country awaits the implementation of each question.

After lunch I had the opportunity to talk to the ones I love most. I cannot overstate how happy I was to reconnect with them and catch up, even just to see their faces and hear their voices. No matter where I am on this earth, I know where home is (:

Classes finally begin tomorrow. I’m actually looking forward both to their content and the sense of routine they’ll bring. 

¡Hasta luego!

[reinasescape]

Something Borrowed, Something Blue (Takao Maruyama)

Summary: You were happy together, or so you had thought. One day, out of the blue, Takao drops you off at home and tells you it’s over. Just like that, no explanation, no answers, it was just over. He avoided you like the plague: no phone calls, texts, or emails. Only radio silence. Not even the guys could get through to him. A person could only take so much though. Dumped by two fiances in less than 2 years had to be a record of some kind. Having sworn off men, you poured yourself into your craft.Another two years go by in the blink of an eye, and you find yourself back in Tokyo again. Back in your old stomping grounds, things have changed, and so have you. Will old flames rekindle even when they’re not meant to?

Part 5: Hopelessly Caught in You

For other parts: Fanfiction Masterpost

Adrenaline pumped as your feet hit the pavement. You tried to concentrate on the feel of the concrete under your feet, the burn in your muscles, and the wind in your face. You were out earlier than normal, but sleep had given up on you hours ago. This beat tossing and turning in your bed, wallowing in guilt. You had done nothing wrong. The two of you were both willing and grown adults. You were single, he was single, or so you told yourself. But you knew that in your mind, you were still tied to Takao. Regardless of his new engagement, he was…. No you couldn’t think like that. Refusing to even entertain the thought, you sped up, not even caring that you were hitting the pavement harder than your ankles appreciated.

AHHH why couldn’t you forget about last night?! The music blaring through your headphones couldn’t make the image of Tatsuki disappear. It was like the sight of him was etched permanently into your corneas.

Last night only the wind and crickets in the distance told you the world had not froze. Looking at him with eyes the size of saucers, your brain struggled to catch up. Did you hear him right?

When your mind finally thawed, words spewed forward without thought. "Go out with you? Are you insane?!" "It's not such a shock is it?” He faked a wince. “We already--" "Stop!" you interrupted with a hand. "There's no need for a post-mortem." "It happened. Not talking about it won't change that. Give it a try. What do you have to lose?" 'Everything.' But you couldn't confess that to him.

It didn’t help that his offer was so tempting, but you refused to show vulnerability. You weren’t the same person you were just a few weeks ago. You didn’t do one night stands and not with Takao’s little brother of all people! One of you had to be insane, perhaps both of you!

"I just want to forget about that night. It was a mistake,” you said sharply. "Ouch. It wasn't that bad was it?" 'Of course not.' But that was exactly why you had to forget about it. You couldn’t tell if the hurt was real or not. Since when did Tatsuki become so smooth? He was Takao's little brother for goodness' sake! You wanted to slap yourself awake.

Could you still look yourself in the mirror if things got complicated? Oh who were you kidding? Things were already complicated. They were irreversibly tangled from the moment you fell into bed together. And without the cloud of alcohol, the memories of that night were clearer.

The combustible passion when his lips met yours. The way the air had cracked and sizzled like live lightning when he touched you. Not even Takao inspired that all consuming blaze inside you, so how much worse could the fall out be this time around.

"I'm not looking for a relationship," you said flatly. "That's fine,” he refused to be deterred. "Really?" you raised an eyebrow. With a family unit like Takao’s, you would expect the boys to be looking for soulmates not flings. "No, but if I said that, you'd run as fast as your legs could carry you." That was your cue to start walking.

"Hey, hey, it was a joke,” he grabbed your hand, pulling you to a halt. "You're not very funny." "Tough audience,” he shrugged and laughed. Somewhere along the two years, Tatsuki had shed the boy who would blush and stammer. There was no denying the man he had become.

You ran faster, sweat dripping from your brow, as you tried to escape your inner demons. Why did he have to show up now? You only had a few more weeks until Takao’s wedding, and then you could finally put it all behind you. It was like the universe was conspiring against you. The tightness in your chest gripped and twisted your heart. He’d get married, and you’ll move on even if you had to rip out your own heart in the process. Did he ever really love you? If he did, why were you the only one suffering still?

The breath in your chest burned, but you continued on. It didn’t matter that you could barely see through the tears you refused to cry. If your whole body hurt, perhaps you could ignore the pain in your chest. Only when your lungs were about to give up on you, did you come to a halt, hands on your knees. Right on the path, regardless of who could see you, you sank into a crouch.

“Are you alright?!” a voice shouted in panic behind you. Through your turmoil, you could barely register it was male.

“Hey, do you want me to call an ambulance?” This time the voice came closer and the owner’s hand turned you around. Your vision went in and out of focus as you squinted at the person in front of you.

  “Takao?” It was the first name on your lips. “Is there something wrong with your heart?” It was only then that you realized one of your hands had fisted your t-shirt over your heart. “I’m fine.” You unclenched your hand, finally lifting your face only to find that your eyes were blurry with unshed tears. “But you’re crying.” The warmest brown eyes were filled with worry as they gazed at you. You took his proffered hand, letting him pull you to your feet. “It’s nothing.” You pulled your hand from his. It wasn’t Takao.

“You shouldn’t run like that if there’s something wrong with your heart.” Your rubbed the tears away with the back of your hand. “I said I’m fine. What are you doing here? Stalking me?” The harsh words left your lips. What was wrong with you? You were never this rude. 

Tatsuki looks absolutely at ease though. His hair barely damp with perspiration, his t-shirt molded to his shoulder and sculpted chest. You stopped there as you caught yourself staring. You must be exhausted. That would be the only excuse you allowed yourself for being so rude as to ogle him in plain daylight. It didn’t escape his notice though. He raised an eyebrow at you, as the corners of his lips lifted. He was so sure of yourself, you just wanted to slap the grin off his face.

“It’s a public park, but if you must know, I took an educated guess,” he shrugged.  “Huh?” you said like a half-wit, trying not to acknowledge you had been caught staring. “This is the same trail you and Takao used to run.”  “What?” Your mind was busy catching up while your eyes were wide as saucers. “I said-” “I know what you said.” You didn’t even notice. You had simply left the house not even thinking twice about it. Old habits die hard, and you couldn’t seem to escape yours.

---

“Here.” 

You caught the sports drink that arced through the air. The two of you sat on a bench, watching others run past you, not saying a word. The wind felt so good on your heated skin.

“Wanna talk about it?” In a corner of your mind, you noted the familiarity of his speech but said nothing. Why bother? It was undeniable that things were different between you and Tatsuki.

“No.” you shook your head. Silence fell again, and you were thankful he didn’t press. You couldn’t bare it if others knew exactly how much of a mess you were. Without the fragile illusion of strength, you wouldn’t be able to get up in the morning to face the world. The days were ticking down. You had to get it together. Otherwise it would be hopeless after Takao married to someone else.

“I haven’t given up yet.” He said, still looking out into the distance. Neither of you looked at each other, both choosing the trees that hide the busy city. A slice of quiet carved into the morning before millions rushed off to work and you back to reality.

You took another swig. Swallowing, for the first time since you got back to Tokyo, you blanked out the million thoughts in your head. “Yes.” “What?” He whipped around so quickly to face you, he knocked over his drink. Not that he noticed as the drink quickly soaked the ground. You could feel his gaze fixed on you. “I said ‘yes.’

Author’s Note: Sorry for the delay. I know I said I would post monthly, but I haven’t really had the motivation for writing. Many of the writers that here when I started have left tumblr, and others have stopped writing. It’s definitely quieter on my dash than it was before. I think most of my followers are more here for screenshots which makes it doubly easy to procrastinate. But here it is. I finally got my but in gear to finish the last part. Enough of my rambling. 

Which Maruyama Brother are you rooting for? Takao or Tatsuki now that he’s all grown up?

If you liked what you read & would like to support me: my [ko-fi]

Commission Info

[vohskyfire]

Top Ten 2017 Games

That time of the year again, the end of the year is upon us. And as such, this will be my last post for this year on this website.

2017 has been a year of a LOT of good games. In fact, it’s argubly been the year of some of the best games ever made being released. Nintendo dominated this year with the Switch, several games have been said to be the best games of all time, and Microsoft shot themselves in the foot, again, with the Xbox One X.  So odds are there’s a lot of great games out there that people love.

Keep in mind, these are just my personal picks for the top ten. If your favorites aren’t here, don’t worry, they’re still great too! Just one rule though.

No ports. Aka no Skyrim, no Doom, no Mario Kart 8 Deluxe, Pokken Tournament, etc. Let’s get this started!

10: CupHead (Xbox One)

I’ll be honest, the first time I saw CupHead I wasn’t exactly sure what to think of it. It looked like it was a tribute to the old cartoons from the 50s and that gave it a bit of a nice feel to it. But I didn’t expect the game to be anything fantastic. Especially given Microsoft’s recent track records with exclusives (Looking at YOU, Halo Wars 2). However, come to my surprise, CupHead is a great game! In fact, it’s so good it’s the only Microsoft title to be on this list. So what exactly keeps it from being in the top 5? Well....

It’s hard. Like, brutally hard. Make no mistake people, this game will kick you in the teeth if you try to go into it acting like you aren’t going to die. In CupHead, expect to die. A LOT. And yes, just because it’s difficult doesn’t mean the game sucks. No one ever says that unless it’s someone who absolutely hates challenges. But sometimes, you gotta give the player a chance to BREATHE. And while boss fights are doable once you learn the patterns, people who AREN’T patient are going to break their controllers. A lot.

Overall, Cuphead is a good game. But goddamn does it make you fight to survive.

9: Crash Bandicoot: Insane Trilogy (PS4)

Crash is back baby. Crash is back. Okay, he’s SORTA back, but hey, it’s nice to see that Sony wanted to have their mascot back! Last year when they showed this off at E3, I went “Welp. There goes Microsoft’s chances to getting back into first place.” (At the time of this post, there is no Xbone Port yet) Seriously I was hyped, if Crash was coming back, then there was a huge chance that Spyro could come back as well. Now Insane Trilogy is an HD remake of the original 3 games, updated to modern times. And damn. Just DAMN. These games looks absolutely stunning. Gameplay wise they are just like they should have been from the past as well. That’s a good thing....aaaaaaaaaaaaaand a bad thing.

Crash 1 is still the hardest of the trilogy, mostly because the game was not MEANT for speed run purposes, and some of the hitboxes in Crash 1 are still as bad as they were back in the day. And while having Coco being playable is a nice touch, she doesn’t really change that much in the games. She’s basically just an alt skin for Crash, and most of the death animations that Crash goes through she’s spared. It’s still a wonderful remake of the original three games, and I am very happy to see that it sold incredibly well. Maybe Activision and Sony might work together from now on to do MORE Crash games? Or at least, you know...give us a Spyro trilogy remake too? That’d be nice. Anyone? Please? ...No? Skylanders still? O-Okay.

8: ARMS (Nintendo)

Oh yes. Now we’re getting into some Nintendo titles. (Be prepared, there’s a LOT of them here.) ARMS is basically what I would like to call the ‘Splatoon of fighting games.’ When they did the full presentation of ARMS back in January this year, I was one of the view that didn’t seem to out right hate the concept of ARMS. I thought it looked like a blast to play, plus fighting games are awesome. ARMS thankfully to me, did not disappoint. In the months of waiting for Splatoon 2 and other Switch titles to come out, ARMS was there. And for what it’s worth? The game is a blast to play. Simple controls that one can get use to, wonderfully designed characters, beautiful music, intense hype as hell battles, and being able to combine different arms with one another based on your fighting style is a great thing. Many hours were put into ARMS trying to get more unique ARMS to use in battle.

That’s...kinda where some of the good stops. The game’s great, don’t get me wrong, but there were some things I feel ARMS needed to be more active on launch. For one, a better story mode. Arcade mode is basically what you get. Info on your fighter, what they’re fighting style is like, and that’s pretty much it. There’s no story building, no interactions between characters, and that can KINDA hurt a fighting game this year when you have Injustice 2 showing how to do a story in a fighting game. Mind you, this is just a MINOR flaw to me.

Overall, ARMS is a lovable experience. And I’m glad to see that it got all the support they said they were going to give it. Maybe the comics will be just as good, or at least have more stuff for ARMS 2. (If they make it.)

7: Mario + Rabbids: Kingdom Battle (Nintendo)

If you would have told me that this game, this game, would be on this list this year or that I would find it to be one of my favorite games this year at the start of January? I would have smacked you in the mouth. I should make this clear to everyone.

I. Hate. The Rabbids.

When I first heard about this game from that huge leak from Ubisoft, I first thought “What? Are you shitting me? Mario and Rabbids crossover? And they have GUNS? What the hell is this? Is this gonna be MARIO OF WAR 4 where it’s a third person shooter? Come on Nintendo.”

Then E3 happened. Oh boy, did I get proved wrong by Ubisoft.

Kingdom Battle isn’t ANYWHERE close to the over done third person shooter area. It’s bright, colorful, charming, actually kinda funny in moments (that’s saying something given the Rabbids’ history) and believe it or not...

Actually...a LOT of fun.

No, seriously. This is one of the most fun games I’ve played this year. Bar none. It’s hard to believe I’m saying that about a Rabbids game that’s crossed over with Mario of all franchises, but it’s true. The game is the first huge strategic game on the Switch and I’m happy to report that the game plays damn well. Think of it like Xcom. Where you actually have to think out your strategies and make certain you know the map well enough.

The only kind of flaws I could give the game is that well...it’s kinda short. Four worlds, each with large maps to do battle, and the story is just kinda...there. Like they explain how the two series meet and everything, but it’s just...there. Not like I expected a huge story from a Mario + Rabbids game, but it would have been interesting to see them go a BIT more into it. Ah well, the DLC will probably cover that.

6: Fire Emblem Echoes: Shadows of Valentia (Nintendo)

And here we have the first Fire Emblem game on this list (Someone’s gonna get upset somewhere). Shadows of Valentia is the first game that uses the classic gameplay the series has been known for that I’ve played since Fire Emblem: Radiant Dawn (Which we’ll get into why THAT game sucks another time...) and to be honest? This game really really contends with Awakening as my favorite FE title.

I love a lot of things about Shadows of Valentia. The storyline is enjoyable, the art style is absolutely beautiful, the music is GODLY, the battles are intense and force you to be on your toes, the character models look absolutely gorgeous for a 3DS game, and the characters are wonderfully written. No joke, Alm and Celica, as ‘bland’ as they can be, are some of my favorite FE characters now.

The only thing I can really say that is sort of a draw back to this game is that...well, how it will test your patience. No joke, the maps are fantastic and the gameplay is a joy to go through, but GOD in heaven above, do some maps want to test your will to continue. Especially maps that have the annoying spell known as UPHEAVAL which damages everyone in your army on sight AND...ahem, let’s save that rant for another time.

Over all, Shadows of Valentia is a great remake of the second game in the series. If you have a 3DS, which is going to be put to rest soon, I would recommend getting this game. It’s fantastic.

5: Fire Emblem Warriors (Nintendo)

Annnnnnnnnnd there goes some of the older FE fans booing at me liking this game. Yes, the game is only Shadow Dragon, Awakening, and Fates. Yes, some of the other characters (Celica and Lyn) are the only representatives of their games, yes some characters have the same moves as others. But you know what? I don’t care.

I. LOVE. THIS. GAME.

It’s fun, it’s stupid mindless fun, and enjoyable. I know most fans may not like the fact that it’s three games over the many others, but to me? I am happy with the choices they’ve made.

Combat is smooth and stylish, like Warriors games tend to be, the animations are wonderful, the controls respond perfectly, and just seeing the way that characters interact with one another is fantastic. I love hearing them call each other’s names when they do a dual strike together. I love how over the top some attacks can get, and I love the ability to switch between units on the fly.

Yes the story’s a lil stupid, and yes they should have included other games in the franchise too, but I like it. If you want to turn your brain off, this is the game for you. It got into my list because I’m a fan who doesn’t hold favoritism over others. Just don’t be rude to people who don’t like the game, and vice versa and you might find a gem.

4: Metroid: Samus Returns (Nintendo)

Yeaaaaah, there’s a lot of Nintendo games.

If you would have told me that Nintendo was going to show off not only Metroid Prime 4 and a new classic Metriod game this year at E3, I would have called you a liar. And to my surprise, they did it. They actually did it. Prime 4 during the new stuff for Nintendo Switch, AND during the after presentation, a new Metroid title to be released this year.

Samus Returns is what I would like to call one of the best looking, and best playable, games on the 3DS. This game I could even consider it to be a swan song. Everything from classic Metroid is here. Charge shots, wall jumps, bombs, beam upgrades, etc. It’s all there. As an official remake of Metroid 2, people were happy to see that Nintendo not only DID care for Metroid, but it shed some light as to why AM2R was taken down. There’s really not much to complain about when it comes to this game. It plays well, responds well, and really teases at more future Metroid games down the line. To which I say...please give us more.

I wanna see Metroid Dread. Do it Nintendo.

TOP THREE.

Oh boy...these three were hard to decide their order. I’ll give short paragraphs for them as I feel I’ve dragged this list out long enough. That and really, I don’t have complaints for these three. These three are the best of the best. Hands down. The best games this year easily.

3: Persona 5 (PS4)

This. Game. Holy shit this game. RPGs live. And Persona 5 has shown the world, and more importantly Square Enix, that turn based RPGS still live. And goddamn, is this game amazing. Fantastic story, fantastic characters, fantastic music, spot on battle system, wonderful dialogue, wonderful artstyle, wonderful EVERYTHING. GET THIS GAME.

2: Super Mario Odyssey (Nintendo)

Easily the best 3D Mario game ever made. No seriously, it’s fantastic. If you own a Switch, you need to get this game. It’s beautiful and is just a charm to play through. Also god DAMN does it play so smooth.

1: Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild (Nintendo)

I know. Predictable. But you know what? I don’t care. This game, this game is my favorite game this year. From exploring Hyrule, fighting enemies, discovering what meals to cook, the wonderful story, and just how much of a riveting experience it has been, I can NOT put this game at number 1. It was the first huge game this year, and I feel it deserves the praise that it’s been getting. I spent many hours playing this game, and I am glad to say that it’s my number one game this year.

And that’s how we send off 2017. Let’s hope 2018 is a good year for games as well!

PS: Also Splatoon 2 is a huge honorary mention.

[thebitterlemon-tbl]

Post 1- The Ketchup (catch up, obviously)

If I had to describe myself as a person, I would not be that kind about it. That’s not to say that I’m a bad person. I think I can make bad decisions, every one can. I just think I'm really harsh on myself. I like it that way. If you don't keep yourself in check, who will? My personality has been called abrasive and reserved. It depends on my anxiety.

ANXIETY

what a word. The word itself is stressful. It’s hard to type. You really have to go grab that Z from the bottom on the keyboard. It’s just not natural for your fingers to stroke there gracefully. Which is ironic that it’s not natural, because the whole thing about having social anxiety is that you're trying to ACT NATURAL. I love to try and explain anxiety in analogies. Imagine if you're swimming and a shark comes along.... that’s anxiety. Imagine if you’re cooking and the water starts to boil over at the same time that the smoke alarm goes off..... that’s anxiety. Sometimes I don’t even need coffee, I just need social anxiety. I don’t know if I really even have overall anxiety, or just social. It’s all something I'm learning. I am constantly looking for the triggers. 

Here are the triggers that I've discovered so far:

Messy apartment

Me, disheveled and not put together

running late

moving slow- no sense of urgency

spending more than $100 somewhere, any where

blushing

people chewing loudly or any mouth sounds at all

confrontation

being caught off guard

I really wanted to round that off to an even 10 but I started to lose steam. It’s actually become quite fun for me to try and find out why I’m anxious. What the fuck made me this way? A couple of things have. Ive had some memories come back to me. I thought for a long time that I had a good childhood, but I was wrong. I blocked out a lot of what I was feeling. Mostly because I am not good at processing my feelings. I do the opposite and I shut down or immediately tell myself it’s not happening. It’s like if your parents fast forward through a sexy scene in a movie. You catch bits of flesh but it’s all so fast... you don't know really what’s happening. You just know it’s not something you’re allowed to see. It’s so weird how you revert back to the way you were feeling from a moment in time and then your body just unconsciously starts invoking those dark fight or flight responses involuntarily. Anytime I walk into a public building, like a coffee shop, theatre, anything where there’s a group of people i don't know- I look for the exits first. I have to know where my clear path is to run (walk quickly probably) out of. I need to find a sure shot, B-line pathway and plan exactly how I would get out. It’s the only way I can relax and really be present. I don’t think I’m ever really present though. My brain is never off. That’s why I like movies and tv. My brain can turn off. I said CAN not WILL. That’s the tricky part. 

The one thing I was blessed with is a sense of humor. I can be really funny. I’ve always wanted to act or do stand up. Maybe one day. Theres a new acting class that just opened up. The guy is from CA and seems nice. It’s $380 for 8 weeks... that's a steep price for me to sign up for without even knowing if my anxiety will let me do it. That’s what’ll always hold me back! Maybe starting this blog will help. 

So let me just quick fire tell you some more info about myself:

my 2 cats are named Doug and Noodle. Doug is 8 years old and Noodle is only 8 Months old. 

I thought my favorite color was purple and maybe it still is but lately I've really been thinking it’s green. Which is odd, I used to say I hated green.

I love poetry. I’m not a super pretentious nerd who's going to quote poets and know about all of them. I just appreciate beautifully crafted sentences that eloquently flow with silky words and smooth imagery. 

I love vegetables but I am not a vegetarian.

I used to smoke cigarettes for a long time and now I smoke the Juul. Been a year on the Juul and I haven’t gotten strep since I quit cigarettes.

I’m a workaholic. Greedy money grubber. But I work hard. 

I can sing very well but don’t know how to put together a melody and play no instruments so it’s just a useless talent. 

Im the youngest of 5!!! That's a wild ride. Maybe its own post.

I am a closet romantic. can’t let anyone see that side of me though.

I think astrology is fun! I like to know about people’s birth charts. I am a Capricorn Sun, Capricorn Rising, Moon in Virgo, and Venus in Pisces. 

I used to be really religious until around age 13 or so. I even went to a cult church. 

I am Type A. Clean freak. Perfectionist. 

I was an Adderal kid. Yikes.

That's a good head start for now! Don't know why I thought that would be easier. It was not rapid fire in the slightest. I guess that's what I feel like you need to know about me before I really start to get into it. Should I end every post with a deep thought like Carrie Bradshaw? Here goes...

Maybe I'm learning more about me too. Hope I like her!

[donaldresslerfanfic]

That night....

Rating: M

Warnings: Strong Language, Sexual Content. 

Word Count: 2578

Donald Ressler X OC Maggie Waters.

Chapter: Twenty Two.

Chapter Index

Story on Wattpad

Ressler.

All the drive to Maggie’s place after our dinner I was fidgety.

I wanted her, I had been struggling with what I felt for enough time and my mind was set on one thing. I wanted to be with her everyday, every second. I wanted her to be the first person I called to tell her good and bad news, I wanted her to be the person to be behind a door when I opened it, I wanted her to be the first and last thing I saw when I woke up and went to bed. I wanted all of her smiles, her laughs, her hugs… I wanted all of her.

“You OK?” She asked, I just nodded and continued to look ahead.

I knew she wanted me too, she’s been wanting for us to be a thing ever since before Audrey, but even then I felt so tense when I parked in front of her place and got out of the car to walk her to the door of her apartment complex.

It was now or never.

When she turned after she got her keys from her purse to say goodbye to me I downed my lips to her sweet ones, an event that was a long time coming.

I held her by the waist and pulled her body to mine, my hands going up her back, I caressed it as I wanted from the very moment I saw her wearing this dress. Her arms held her from both my shoulders and I moved to kiss and taste her lips from a different angle.

She sighed in content and maybe of a little pleasure, moving one of her hands to my cheek and neck.

Reluctantly I pulled back, her eyes fluttered before opening and looking up at me, my hands still held her from the waist. What I had been thinking to say, my confession to her had vanished from my mind, I could only look down at her hypnotizing green eyes. I leaned forward to press my forehead to hers, letting out a breath.

“I need you” I said, this time she pulled back and looked up at me, a little confused “I need you in my life. You’re the only thing that’s keeping me sane and I want to be selfish and have you all for myself. I want to be there to make you laugh, and to hold your hand through rough times. I want it all and I want it with you Maggie.”

She expression changed to one I couldn’t pinpoint, she held herself by the sole of my shirt and knitted her eyebrows together.

“Really?” She asked letting a sigh out, I just nodded, moving my hands up and down her exposed back.

She let out a smile that calmed my nerves as she held herself closer to me

“Really?” She asked again, happier, her voice high.

I’m not going to flatter myself but this was maybe the happiest moment of her whole life, the person who she loved was proclaiming his love back to her. I smiled to her, full blown smile as big as hers and before I could say it she said it.

“I love you Don” those words made me hold her closer and kiss her lips again, both her arms rounded my neck and pulled her up to my chest.

“I love you too Maggie” I said against her lips, she let out a laugh and gave me several short kisses before holding me by the hand

“We need to go upstairs” she whispered against my lips, I instantly nodded and followed her as she opened the door and we got to her apartment.

Her hand was holding mine, she turned to look at me with a smile on her face.

“Please tell me I’m not dreaming”

I chuckled and pulled her to me, kissing her lips one more time.

“You’re not” she let out another sigh and continued to smile, the elevator doors finally opened and we walked to her apartment door.

She opened the door, letting me in and I closed behind me. All bets were off.

Her lips were on mine again as she pulled my suit jacket off, I tossed it near the door and quickly unclasped my gun and badge from my belt, trowing my phone aside too as Maggie began to undo the buttons on my shirt, our lips still sealed together.

Agent Ressler was MIA for tonight.

My hands found her back again and this time I moved them further down to cup one of round buttcheeks, something I had also wanted to do ever since I noticed how good she looked in shorts.

She let out a moan against my lips as I began to walk to her bedroom, my hands going further down to the rim of her dress and pulling up, I only got it to lay on her waist when she began to pull down my dress shirt. I had to stop and unclasp the cuffs as she moved her hands to my pants giving me a little dirty and playful look.

“I’m forewarning you, my leg is messed up” she tsked her tongue and rolled her eyes as she finished.

“Do you think that after all the time I’ve waited to have you like this I’m going to back down because you got shot in the leg?” She dismissed and unzipped my pants as I took off my dress shirt. “We’re not perfect, no one is”

“You are” my hands retuned to where they had left her dress, she smiled sweetly at me and I pulled up her dress the rest of the way, she lifted her arms to let it through, her breast lifting up as well. I’ve been wanting to witness that movement again ever since I caught a glimpse of it when we were having dinner one hot evening in her apartment.

“You’ve exceeded everything I ever dreamed and hoped for” I caressed her back, I loved her back, the curves it made before it curved to her backside, her defined spine line. Her hands had found my chest and were running up and down on it.

“Don” she looked up at me, I cupped her cheek and moved her face to kiss her lips freely after she finished speaking. “Make love to me, then fuck me, and then make love to me again” she whispered. I downed my lips to hers again and bit down to her lower lip.

My pants and boxers followed, Maggie laid on the bed with me on top of her, and I had her.

I had her body against mine, the friction making us both crazy, her whimpers, her moans, my name escaping from her lips. Her nails raking down my back.

Then she had me, and it was the best sex I had had yet. I was sure she’ll always deliver on a good time. She sat up on top of me and moved as she pleased, up and down, back and forth. Hypnotized, I followed her hip movement with my hands and they traveled up and down her stomach, teased her nipples. Her long blonde hair fell to the side and she tried to control it, but I was loving it, loving the way it fell on top of her breast like a curtain.

She finished laying on top of me, I could feel her clench around me deliciously, her breaths ragged.

I laid her back on the bed and turned her face down, kissing down her back and the line of her spine. She moaned as I rubbed my hands on her asscheek. Then lifted up her ass and slowly entered her from behind. She sighed and then moaned in content and I closed my eyes, letting myself enjoy the feeling of this new position.

I began to pound into her, eliciting louder moans as I sped up, then she inhaled sharply and moaned louder. I guess I must’ve hit her somewhere where it felt good, so I continued. Faster, deeper, my hands kept her down my pushing her back info the mattress, my other hand holding her by the waist and restraining her movement, as if she’s thinking to go anywhere.

She came again, this time I was right behind her, her body trembled slowly and I had to stop while inside her. I was dizzy from the lack of blood in my brain and the pleasure I was feeling.

I plumeted down on the bed next to her, both our breaths heavy.

∆

Donald. I want you to know that I understand how you feel. There’s nothing that can take the pain away. But eventually you’ll find a way to live with it. There will be nightmares. And everyday when you wake up will be the first thing you think about. Until one day, it will be the second thing…

I was awaken by the sound of an alarm beeping away, only a few times before a thud and a sigh.

Maggie.

I looked to my side to see her rubbing her eyes to awaken herself.

I lean forward to her and caged her between my arms, her hands came up as she startled herself, but them smiled when she focused in me. She moved her lips away from mine as she smiled

“I have morning breath” she complained, I searched my mouth with hers and kissed her

“And I don’t care” I kissed her again, she turned on her side and made me hold her by the waist, spooning her. “What time if your flight today?” She still had to go to her sister’s place.

“At whatever time, I can use the jet” she purred and leaned to look at her phone, it was dead. While she plugged it and turned it on I smoothed down my hand on her back, marveling at the soft skin and the splotches of ink. She received a few text and I could see from over her shoulder what they were, Gina was asking her about our date.

“It’ll be funny if you sent Gina a picture of us when you reply”

She gave me a mischievous smile and pulsed the camera.

“I’ll pretend to be asleep” she giggled and I snugged her close.

A few seconds later I heard the snap and then the clicks on the phone as she typed, I opened my eyes and saw the text “I’m trapped, don’t know if I’ll make it to my nephew’s birth” then she sent it.

We watched the screen for a few seconds until she chuckled

“She’s recording an audio, this will be interesting” after a few seconds we received a response, and Maggie pushed play.

*Oh my goooooooooood!!!* she screamed into the phone

*the fuck is your problem?* we heard Marcus question of the phone, Mags and I laughed

*oh my god I can’t believe it!!! I’m so happy for you, oh god, for the both of you! Can I be the maid of honor in your wedding? Just…. Enjoy this Maggie you deserve it*

The message ended and she replied quickly.

She turned back to me and looked up, remaining quiet for a while, my fingers still caressed her back. She was looking up at me as if she didn’t believe it, still curious and thoughtful. “What’s on your mind?” She shrugged and smiled

“I’m… I don’t know, surprised and happy and… Weary, and scared, all at the same time”

“I’ll make sure it’s only happy from now on” I lifted my hand to her cheek and smiled down at her, then kissed her lips.

It was silent around us, only because of that I could hear my phone ringing from the door. I sighed annoyed and reluctantly moved away.

“If you have to work it’s fine”

“No, it’s not.” I found my boxer and slipped it one, I gave one last look to Maggie as she smiled sweetly at me and I walked to the living room.

I picked up the phone from the floor as the call cut off. I took the phone back to bed while I check the ID caller when it sparked up again in a call. I handed the phone to Maggie when I saw her sitting at the bed

“Humor me”

She smiled and took it, it was Liz, otherwise I would have answered.

Mags picked up and put it on speaker.

“Hello?” She answered. I head Liz stutter.

“Is this Donald Ressler’s phone?”

“Yeah. It’s me, Maggie, Don is sleeping. I’ll wake him up”

“Oh, uh… Thanks Maggie”

“We fucked last night” she clarified while I found my pants and gave her a smile “just so you know if he’s… You know, like extra happy today”

“I’m sure he will, I’m happy for you both” Liz replied a little taken a back.

“OK, I’ll wake him up for real now, and I’ll have him call you as soon as he can”

“Thank you Maggie”

She hung up and gave me a little sad look and a pout.

“I guess you have to leave” she stood up and pulled the sheet to her chest. “How about you take a shower and I’ll iron your clothes?” She offered.

I nodded thankful at her and gave her a quick kiss before entering the shower.

I got out and Maggie was letting down my clothes in the bed, she had slipped a night gown on her body and moved to smooth the bed while I changed.

“I hope whatever this is doesn’t take long.” I commented.

“It’s OK. I’ll try to hold off until you finish, but u really do have to be at my sister’s place by the end of the day”

“I’ll try to make it before lunch” I was buttoning up my shirt while looking at her, she was rummaging through her clothes. She gave me a little nod and a smile.

I finished getting myself ready and walked to the door, Maggie following me. I picked up my jacket, gun and badge from where I had thrown it last night.

“Don” she called, I looked up at her and waited for her to continue “are we like… Like dating? Or just like a one night thing?” She trailed.

I took a short step to her and held her by the waist to my chest.

“What, do you want me to ask you?”

“To ask me what?”

“If you want to be my girlfriend?”

She inhaled and her breath caught up in her throat, I saw her eyes look up at me pleading.

“Would you be my girlfriend?”

She was nodding halfway through the question, which made all sign on nervousness drip from me. She weakly whispered a yes before a tear fell from her eyes and onto her cheek, I leaned and kissed her lips slowly.

Her hands clung to the flaps of my suit jacket and I hugged her as I kissed her. Then moved back and wiped her cheeks.

She smiled at me fully, happy, glowing. I hated myself for leaving right now.

She opened the door for me and leaned on it as I gave her one last look.

“Boy, I’m going to be so mad if I close this door and wake up in my bed” I gave her a smile and she returned it.

“I love you Maggie”

She sighed content and nodded

“I love you more Don”

[ninetytwotechnology-blog]

ESTIMATES IN SOFTWARE DEVELOPMENT. NEW FRONTIERS.

There’s more and more buzz around estimates and #noestimates in software program development. People like to write bold statements and pass severe about things in blogs. Generally, private dialogues are an awful lot greater balanced. A few hate estimates and consider it’s a useless interest. Some shield it with arguments of controversial fact.

I need to dig into intrinsic estimates headaches, what humans imply through “estimate” and what future directions we may additionally assault.

ESTIMATE IS A DISTRIBUTION

It’s impossible to provide a hundred% precise estimate to nearly some thing. Using is a totally, very commonplace interest without innovative (i am hoping) decisions. Appears like we can estimate how long it'll take to get from factor a to factor z with a superb accuracy.

I used to pick up my buddy recently each day. I called him before the pressure to reconcile the advent time and choose him up without delays. The distance and the route are exactly the equal and certainly i discovered to estimate timing nearly perfectly — thirteen mins. Still someday it became 12 mins and someday it was 15 mins. Once it took simply 10 minutes (sorry, i drove too rapid and all lights had been inexperienced).

The factor is trivial, you can’t give specific estimate to simplest responsibilities. Estimate is a distribution. Perhaps ordinary, maybe slender, however nevertheless it’s not a single wide variety.

 If we communicate about software program development, you don't have any luxurious to have a slender distribution. Hell no. You've got a wide positively skewed distribution with pretty full-size chance to be 50% off the expected estimate. Why is that?

 SOFTWARE PROGRAM IMPROVEMENT IS COMPLICATED

You've got a function to estimate. There are numerous situations from there. You may have treated a similar characteristic previously, and you’re quite confident now. Or, perhaps, you don’t have a clue how to assault this selection in any respect. In any case, you don’t know a hundred% of information about this feature. It's miles almost impossible.

Permit’s take a completely simple feature like “as a user i need to login into the gadget”. Most of you already remember some photos inner your brain with login and password fields, check in button and recollect me checkbox. That is pleasant. Now we’re ready to check some info. What we want to provide the precise estimate? We need to recognize the scope. Here is the checklist:

 FINALIZED GRAPHICAL LAYOUT

·         Fields specification (max period, allowed characters, and many others).

·         Error coping with (with all feasible mistakes copyrighted)

·         Listing of supported web browsers (opera cell perhaps?)

·         List of supported locales (jap?)

·         Password electricity requirements

·         Keep in mind me spec (for how long should we hold this info?)

·         Transitions (what takes place once i click check in?)

·         Protection protections (brute pressure, various injections)

This list is related to practical specification best. Sadly, different matters affect scope as properly:

·         Need to we write purposeful automated assessments?

·         Have to us replace consumer manual or another documentation?

·         Must we test different features that can be affected?

Are there extra questions to ask? Oh, yes! Forestall there. It’s a very exciting moment. We described the scope and we ought to estimate scope. Very, very often humans do precisely that. However, there are many, many things (sorry for repetitions) that have an effect on length. Funny sufficient, managers ask for “scope estimate”, but then update them with “length estimate” of their heads in some way. I don’t know what type of mind trick is that, but it’s so commonplace.

If you hear that an assignment will take four hours to finish and developer begins running on it right now, you count on it'll be completed in five-6 hours (you are clever enough to assume interruptions and got used to developers’ optimism). But, you may be pretty amazed if it’ll take 2 days to get the mission executed. You (and that i) unconsciously deliver this marvel feeling via all lifestyles. But need to we? Perhaps 2 days is a traditional duration for tasks predicted with four hours. You have to accumulate the records to differentiate standard and uncommon activities, to recognize the duration distribution as nicely.

PROPERLY, WHAT AFFECTS DURATION?

·         Who will implement this selection?

·         Will developer work on his productive or unproductive hours?

·         Are there any refactoring’s developer makes a decision to do before the challenge simply starts?

·         What's a chance that dressmaker will exchange his mind and ask for giant re-work?

·         How many funny pictures developer’s friends will put up on Fb these days?

You can preserve the list. Anyway, there’re many factors that make duration predictions not possible difficult.

SOFTWARE IMPROVEMENT IS A DISCOVERY

With each characteristic we analyze. We learn how to code, how to design, how to test. We make bigger the gadget and find out new opportunities, new improvements and new usage styles.

 What if we start implementation and suppose that login thru twitter might be tremendous? What if you acquire additional statistics and discover that your target audience definitely doesn’t use twitter, however nearly absolutely everyone has google account? Nicely, this could sound like a brand new consumer tale and it's miles new certainly. However remember how commonly did you perform a little little tweaks right here and there? Re-wrote error message right here, brought some extra assessments right here, changed design of that area, and so on. There are many small adjustments you can’t expect from the beginning.

YOU FIND OUT IMPROVEMENTS ON THE PASS.

These discoveries change scope. We’re very awful at predicting scope adjustments. We are particularly horrific at predicting accumulation of many small modifications. Ironically, those changes are right! Believe you usually observe the original layout and authentic choices. It may enhance estimates and forecasts, but it's going to kill creativity and race to perfection. Every body will stick to spec all of the time, and in maximum contexts this will result in mediocre solutions at nice.

You ought to encourage re-paintings to make matters higher, however it’s quite hard to discover a accurate balance between re-paintings inside the context of present day user story and creation of a brand new person story that will be implemented later.

There's a threat you'll find out new dimensions for the product. Perhaps, human beings begin using it in a completely unexpected way. This opens even extra possibilities. Good enough, that is another story.

A WAY TO STAY WITH THAT?

One option is to stop estimating. Assume carefully. How are you going to use those estimates? To impose sprint dedication? To speak about group’s velocity versions on the subsequent retrospective? To degree development? To reduce scope creep? Those are fake dreams.

Estimate is just one extra metric that enables us make choices, forecast and version the destiny.

You can collect this metric and use it wisely (each things aren’t smooth even though).

One idea i've is that we are able to look for similar patterns in functions and responsibilities. We can also gather numerous attributes like generation, builders and their skills, area information, teams, development practices, method practices, and many others. To set a context.

It could take place that we can apply statistic and gadget studying to locate those styles. Or we are able to go difficult way and invent a respectable model that describes a majority of these styles. Consequently we’ll be able to examine a brand new function with a library of current patterns and have the estimate distribution for this new, estimated characteristic. Humans suck at estimating, perhaps machines will no longer ultimately.

 Together with estimate distribution, we can have “some other thrilling statistics” like anticipated bugs, predicted period, anticipated liquidity (something david anderson is digging into), predicted re-paintings, etc. This may assist us to offer aggregated probabilistic forecasts for entire groups and initiatives.

Yes, it sounds complex, however i suppose it’s practicable in the long run. Maximum possibly this will be relevant inside the context of strong teams running on similar tasks, however who is aware of, perhaps we’ll locate a few general legal guidelines and models.

We can accumulate data approximately many initiatives in various industries and contexts (hot subject matter, large records, ). This initiative is large, but useful to all. I know noam chomsky doesn’t like this approach, but nonetheless probabilistic statistical models can offer sensible effects. And our younger industry wishes as a minimum a few practical matters to depend on.

The most complex factor is a way to define those patterns to compare functions. It seems it will be required to split paintings into quite small chunks (responsibilities with less than an afternoon anticipated estimate), offer numerous statistics about those tasks and use hierarchical systems to find similarities. I’m curious to listen any recommendations.

Every other trivial concept is to narrow down the estimate distribution. This idea looks tempting. We can try and lessen or control all viable factors that affect estimate distribution, for that reason increasing estimates accuracy.

 Permit’s suppose how we are able to acquire that. We need to have 100% specific specifications up-the front, ban re-work, lessen context variant (change improvement technique hardly ever)… forestall. Wtf? This rings a bell in my memory of a terrific vintage waterfall! I hope this concept isn’t attractive to you now.

I assume we should embody estimate distribution and invent new approaches to version and use it. We shouldn’t combat it. This will be a conflict against our allies. This will be a struggle towards creativity, perfectionism, mastering and team spirit. I’d higher surrender.

[jeninthebooks]

I was having trouble thinking of a way to start this post. The thing is, that last weekend was so, so special to me, and I didn’t want to sell it as less than it was. I guess I will start by saying that prior to going to Portland, I thought that my weekend would consist of me barely seeing my host family & taking a lot of Lifts.

That was not the case AT ALL. I began to realize that my trip was going to be different, when I was at the gate for my Southwest Airlines flight. I don’t know how familiar you are with Southwest, but I had never been on a flight with them before. The only reason I was this time, is because Emily had arranged my flight for me. Let me just say that it was life-changing.

From the minute I got to my gate, I was inspired. There was free WiFi & a stand for you to charge your phone (this helped me with my Thirteen Reasons Why binge). There were also these interesting columns, that I would come to learn were for organizing yourselves in a queue to board the plane. WHAT?? YOU DON’T HAVE TO STRUGGLE THROUGH A MASS OF PEOPLE TO BOARD?? CRAZINESS. I will say that I started to worry when I heard the announcer say that there were no assigned seats… I freaked looking at my boarding pass like something was wrong. I found articles, that basically told me that my seat, was a terrible one to have (end of the B group).

My fears were set aside, when I was able to find a seat at the front of the plane, between two women. I didn’t have to sit by a creepy dude (sorry to all the non-creepy dudes out there, but this is an actual fear I have. I am also sure there are many creepy ladies as well.), and was near the font, so I could get off the plane quickly. Also, let me just go back to the airline hosts for a second- outside of the plane (while you are waiting to board) and on the plane itself. They are amazing human beings! They are funny and put you at ease, real quick! They don’t seem to hate their jobs, and genuinely seem to like people. Even if they don’t, they are incredible actors.

I was also able to find a spot for my carry-on easily. THEN, when it came to the end of the C-group, there was a gentleman, who found a spot at the very front for his body, but didn’t see a place for his carry-on AT FIRST. Amazingly, he was able to switch some other’s bags into different containers (which nobody seemed to mind) and was able to fit his in, in three moves. No joke, EVERYBODY cheered for him. When the plane landed, he helped everyone in the vicinity, locate and hand them their bags. Way to go, stranger! Needless to say, this was an amazing experience. I really didn’t mean to write 4 paragraphs, on Southwest, and maybeeee this should have been a YELP review, but it was such a great opening to my weekend and needed to be shared. Everyone worked together and although, it was a bit of organized chaos, it was so so great to see such kind people willing to help each other out. It was like being on that plane created an instant bond-comparable to what Emily Arrow does, every time she brings people together. 

Smooth transition, am I right?? :) Emily surrounds herself with the best people. I always knew that, but somehow, it wasn’t really ingrained in my brain, as it was when I entered Zoey Abbott’s home. Let me start by saying that the only Lift I took the entire weekend was to get to Zoey’s home. For those of you who don’t know Zoey, she is a soon to be published illustrator, who also worked with Emily on Little Red Sled!

The minute I stepped into Zoey’s home, she was in host-mode. I also want to say, that i had LATE flight. I didn’t get to her house until a little after midnight. I was expecting to be shown to wherever I was sleeping and maybe see her in the morning? NO. Zoey wanted to know how my trip was, if I wanted wine (which she doesn’t even drink), water, if I wanted to look at picture books…it went on and on. She was incredibly funny and so lovely to talk to. I also probably bored her to death with my Kevin Henkes story. I am not trying to diss on LA hosts, but it was so enlightening to see how pumped Zoey was to host and how she didn’t seem to care what time it was. I don’t think that would have happened where I live and I was so grateful.

The next morning, after sleeping in my OWN ROOM, I was treated to a homemade breakfast! I got to meet her adorable and intelligent kids and their awesome dog Carrots. After, Zoey drove her daughter, illustrator Alison Farrell (look for her book, Cycle City in 2018!), her son and I to an amazing little restaurant called, Por Que No? If you need a recommendation on what to eat there, I had their fresh jamaica, and a Bryan’s Bowl with carne asada and chips. It was so delicious! I also loved that they had equality and “welcoming of all” signs posted everywhere. Furthermore, the thing that I keep telling everyone, when they ask me about my trip is that, they had an umbrella stand that said something to the beat of, “borrow an umbrella while you wait in line”. That still blows my mind. In LA, those umbrellas definitely would have been stolen. It’s a sad fact, but it’s the truth. We have a Little Free Library outside of Vroman’s and within the first couple months of it’s existence, someone had vandalized it. The umbrella stand was just something that showed me a huge contrast between Portland and home.

After getting to see Emily & her life mate, Alex (for the first time in months) and meeting all these wonderful new friends (Kate Berube, Karyn Lewis, Diane Adams & her sister, Danielle Davis & Deborah Hocking), we headed to Green Bean Books, which is a treasure in itself. Here is a photo of most of us, outside the store!

& here is a photo of some of us inside the store, with bookseller extraordinaire, Earl & author, Ashlyn Anstee!

We were tasked with the job of finding a book that best represented ourselves. I wish I could remember what everyone picked…the ones that I do remember, included: Hug Machine, The Lost House, Happy Dreamer, I Don’t Like Koala, This is Sadie, Love Is, Lyle Lyle Crocodile, and Chester’s Way.

Then we got a chance to discuss them all, in Green Bean Books’ wonderful patio. Here are some of the wonders I encountered while out there:

I just loved that everywhere you looked, there was something beautiful to behold. Also, Earl is an amazing bookseller. There were times, I felt like I was being put to shame because of all the new books he has managed to read! He definitely knows what he is talking about. If you are ever in Portland, I hope you get a chance to talk books with him!

I would also like to take a moment to mention that all of the awesome authors that joined in this weekend, all have super cool books out, or will be out shortly. Please see the following works of genius:

Kate Berube (inspired the Hannah & Sugar song)-My Little Half-Moon, out May 2nd! She also has the books, Hannah & Sugar & The Summer Nick Taught His Cats to Read

Danielle Davis-Zinnia and Bees, a middle grade novel, out August 1st!

Alison Farrell-Cycle City in 2018. It’s too early for info/art for it yet, but follow her on insta to *hopefully* see some in the future!

Ashlyn Anstee (inspired the No, No, Gnome! & Are We There, Yeti? songs)-Are We There, Yeti? and No, No, Gnome!, are available for purchase now!

Deborah Hocking-The Great Henry Hopendower, out June 6th! She also has the non fiction book, Build, Beaver, Build! available for purchase now!

Diane Adams (inspired the Two Hands to Love You, and Love Is, songs!)-Two Hands to Love You, Love Is and many more!

Zoey Abbott Wagner (inspired the Little Red Sled song)-Twindergarten, out June 20th & Oregon Reads Aloud, available now!

We also got to go to a lot of other cool food places during the weekend, including Pip’s Original Doughnuts (I would recommend their “The Dirty Wu”), Random Order Coffeehouse & Bakery (where I had the best chocolate cream pie) and Fire on the Mountain (in which I tried their El Jefe Challenge and failed miserably).

Do you see my little book and pencil, that I got from Green Bean Books in the photo above??

& NOW, ON TO THE REASON WE ALL CAME TO PORTLAND:

Emily’s Manager Oahn & Karin put together an incredible launch for her 2nd album, Storytime Singalong Vol. 2! Here they are below:

If their faces look sad, it’s because Emily is saying the most wonderful things about them on the other side of this photo!! #TeamArrow is a force to be reckoned with.

The launch was held at the Freemont Theatre and was just a perfect venue! Karin did so well with her choice! I’m going to try my best to explain, why this event meant so much to so many, including myself. Personally, I am so proud of Emily. She is only a little older than myself, and yet has created her own genre of music, her own business, is following her dreams and recently bought her own house. Seeing her perform her second album at the Freemont, was just the icing on the cake. I think everyone was a little teary at some point during the day. A lot of the authors present, had worked with Emily at some point and were hearing their songs live in front of a crazy big crowd. You can see it for yourself here:

It was so crazy, that at one point there didn’t seem to be a clear pathway. If you haven’t checked out Emily’s second album, it has some wonderful songs on it. They are:

Anything Can Be A Song

Explorers of the Wild Song

Hannah and Sugar Song

Be A Friend Song

Nana in the City Song

We Are Enough Song

No, No Gnome Song

I Love You Already Song

Don’t Hide Your Magic Song

Two Hands to Love You Song

And you can buy it now!

I know this post is incredibly LONG and that it seems like all I am saying is that PORTLAND IS AWESOME, EMILY IS AWESOME and ALL THESE AUTHORS AND PEOPLE ARE AWESOME. Let me tell you, THAT IS EXACTLY what I was trying to say. I just had so many words that I wanted to get out, in order to say exactly that. Could this have been edited? Probably. But hey, this is my blog. I want to thank you so much for reading and I hope that you get to hear these songs, read these books and visit this amazing city. I loved every second that I was there and with these people and won’t forget it or them. <3

Love,

Jen in the Bookstore

**A special shout out again to Zoey for hosting me, Oahn and Karin for arranging this whole thing, Emily for getting me there, and Zoey and Deborah for making sure I only had to take 1 Lift the entire weekend. **

Jen in the Bookstore Goes to Portland; How Southwest Airlines, an Emily Arrow Album Launch & a Bunch of Kind Portlanders Made My Weekend  I was having trouble thinking of a way to start this post. The thing is, that last weekend was so, so special to me, and I didn't want to sell it as less than it was.